Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  IPHIGENIA.

  But my own heart is still unsatisfied.

  PYLADES.

  Scruples too rigid are a cloak for pride.

  IPHIGENIA.

  I cannot argue, I can only feel.

  PYLADES.

  Conscious of right, thou shouldst respect thyself.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Then only doth the heart know perfect ease, When not a stain pollutes it.

  PYLADES.

  In this fane

  Pure hast thou kept thy heart. Life teaches us

  To be less strict with others and ourselves;

  Thou’lt learn the lesson too. So wonderful

  Is human nature, and its varied ties

  Are so involv’d and complicate, that none

  May hope to keep his inmost spirit pure, And walk without perplexity through life. Nor are we call’d upon to judge ourselves; With circumspection to pursue his path, Is the immediate duty of a man. For seldom can he rightly estimate, Or his past conduct or his present deeds.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Almost thou dost persuade me to consent.

  PYLADES.

  Needs there persuasion when no choice is granted? To save thyself, thy brother, and a friend, One path presents itself, and canst thou ask If we shall follow it?

  IPHIGENIA.

  Still let me pause, For such injustice thou couldst not thyself Calmly return for benefits receiv’d.

  PYLADES.

  If we should perish, bitter self-reproach, Forerunner of despair, will be thy portion. It seems thou art not used to suffer much, When, to escape so great calamity, Thou canst refuse to utter one false word.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Oh, that I bore within a manly heart! Which, when it hath conceiv’d a bold resolve, ‘Gainst every other voice doth close itself.

  PYLADES.

  In vain thou dost refuse; with iron hand Necessity commands; her stern decree Is law supreme, to which the gods themselves Must yield submission. In dread silence rules The uncounsell’d sister of eternal fate. What she appoints thee to endure, — endure; What to perform, — perform. The rest thou know’st. Ere long I will return, and then receive The seal of safety from thy sacred hand.

  SCENE V.

  IPHIGENIA, alone.

  I must obey him, for I see my friends Beset with peril. Yet my own sad fate Doth with increasing anguish move my heart. May I no longer feed the silent hope Which in my solitude I fondly cherish’d? Shall the dire curse eternally endure? And shall our fated race ne’er rise again With blessings crown’d? — All mortal things decay! The noblest powers, the purest joys of life At length subside: then wherefore not the curse? And have I vainly hop’d that, guarded here, Secluded from the fortunes of my race, I, with pure heart and hands, some future day Might cleanse the deep defilement of our house? Scarce was my brother in my circling arms From raging madness suddenly restor’d, Scarce had the ship, long pray’d for, near’d the strand, Once more to waft me to my native shores, When unrelenting fate, with iron hand, A double crime enjoins; commanding me To steal the image, sacred and rever’d, Confided to my care, and him deceive To whom I owe my life and destiny. Let not abhorrence spring within my heart! Nor the old Titan’s hate, toward you, ye gods, Infix its vulture talons in my breast! Save me, and save your image in my soul! An ancient song comes back upon mine ear — I had forgotten it, and willingly — The Parcæ’s song, which horribly they sang, What time, hurl’d headlong from his golden seat, Fell Tantalus. They with their noble friend Keen anguish suffer’d; savage was their breast And horrible their song. In days gone by, When we were children, oft our ancient nurse Would sing it to us, and I mark’d it well.

  Oh, fear the immortals, Ye children of men! Eternal dominion They hold in their hands. And o’er their wide empire Wield absolute sway. Whom they have exalted Let him fear them most! Around golden tables, On cliffs and clouds resting The seats are prepar’d. If contest ariseth; The guests are hurl’d headlong, Disgrac’d and dishonour’d, And fetter’d in darkness, Await with vain longing, A juster decree. But in feasts everlasting, Around the gold tables Still dwell the immortals. From mountain to mountain They stride; while ascending From fathomless chasms, The breath of the Titans, Half stifl’d with anguish, Like volumes of incense Fumes up to the skies. From races ill-fated, Their aspect joy-bringing, Oft turn the celestials, And shun in the children To gaze on the features Once lov’d and still speaking Of their mighty sire. Thus sternly the Fates sang Immur’d in his dungeon. The banish’d one listens, The song of the Parcæ, His children’s doom ponders, And boweth his head.

  ACT THE FIFTH.

  SCENE I.

  THOAS. ARKAS.

  ARKAS.

  I own I am perplex’d, and scarcely know ‘Gainst whom to point the shaft of my suspicion, Whether the priestess aids the captives’ flight, Or they themselves clandestinely contrive it. ’Tis rumour’d that the ship which brought them here Is lurking somewhere in a bay conceal’d. This stranger’s madness, these new lustral rites, The specious pretext for delay, excite Mistrust, and call aloud for vigilance.

  THOAS.

  Summon the priestess to attend me here! Then go with speed, and strictly search the shore, From yon projecting land to Dian’s grove: Forbear to violate its sacred depths; A watchful ambush set, attack and seize, According to your wont, whome’er ye find.

  [Arkas retires.

  SCENE II.

  THOAS, alone.

  Fierce anger rages in my riven breast,

  First against her, whom I esteem’d so pure;

  Then ‘gainst myself, whose foolish lenity

  Hath fashion’d her for treason. Man is soon

  Inur’d to slavery, and quickly learns

  Submission, when of freedom quite depriv’d.

  If she had fallen in the savage hands

  Of my rude sires, and had their holy rage

  Forborne to slay her, grateful for her life,

  She would have recogniz’d her destiny.

  Have shed before the shrine the stranger’s blood,

  And duty nam’d what was necessity.

  Now my forbearance in her breast allures

  Audacious wishes. Vainly I had hop’d

  To bind her to me; rather she contrives To shape an independent destiny. She won my heart through flattery; and now That I oppose her, seeks to gain her ends By fraud and cunning, and my kindness deems A worthless and prescriptive property.

  SCENE III.

  IPHIGENIA. THOAS.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Me hast thou summon’d? wherefore art thou here?

  THOAS.

  Wherefore delay the sacrifice? inform me.

  IPHIGENIA.

  I have acquainted Arkas with the reasons.

  THOAS.

  From thee I wish to hear them more at large.

  IPHIGENIA.

  The goddess for reflection grants thee time.

  THOAS.

  To thee this time seems also opportune.

  IPHIGENIA.

  If to this cruel deed thy heart is steel’d, Thou shouldst not come! A king who meditates A deed inhuman, may find slaves enow, Willing for hire to bear one half the curse, And leave the monarch’s presence undefil’d. Enwrapt in gloomy clouds he forges death, Whose flaming arrow on his victim’s head His hirelings hurl; while he above the storm Remains untroubl’d, an impassive god.

  THOAS.

  A wild song, priestess, issued from thy lips.

  IPHIGENIA.

  No priestess, king! but Agamemnon’s daughter;

  While yet unknown, thou didst respect my words:

  A princess now, — and think’st thou to command me

  From youth I have been tutor’d to obey,

  My parents first, and then the deity;

  And thus obeying, ever hath my soul Known sweetest freedom. But nor then nor now Have I been taught compliance with the voice And savage mandates of a man.

  THOAS.

  Not I, An ancient law doth claim obedien
ce from thee.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Our passions eagerly catch hold of laws Which they can wield as weapons. But to me Another law, one far more ancient, speaks, And doth command me to withstand thee, king! That law declaring sacred every stranger.

  THOAS.

  These men, methinks, lie very near thy heart. When sympathy with them can lead thee thus To violate discretion’s primal law, That those in power should never be provok’d.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Speaking or silent, thou canst always know What is, and ever must be, in my heart. Doth not remembrance of a common doom, To soft compassion melt the hardest heart? How much more mine! in them I see myself. I trembling kneel’d before the altar once. And solemnly the shade of early death Environ’d me. Aloft the knife was rais’d To pierce my bosom, throbbing with warm life; A dizzy horror overwhelm’d my soul; My eyes grew dim; — I found myself in safety. Are we not bound to render the distress’d The gracious kindness from the gods receiv’d? Thou know’st we are, and yet wilt thou compel me?

  THOAS.

  Obey thine office, priestess, not the king.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Cease! nor thus seek to cloak the savage force

  Which triumphs o’er a woman’s feebleness.

  Though woman, I am born as free as man.

  Did Agamemnon’s son before thee stand,

  And thou requiredst what became him not,

  His arm and trusty weapon would defend His bosom’s freedom. I have only words But it becomes a noble-minded man To treat with due respect the words of woman.

  THOAS.

  I more respect them than a brother’s sword.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Uncertain ever is the chance of arms, No prudent warrior doth despise his foe; Nor yet defenceless ‘gainst severity Hath nature left the weak; she gives him craft And wily cunning: artful he delays, Evades, eludes, and finally escapes. Such arms are justified by violence.

  THOAS.

  But circumspection countervails deceit.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Which a pure spirit doth abhor to use.

  THOAS.

  Do not incautiously condemn thyself.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Oh, couldst thou see the struggle of my soul, Courageously to ward the first attack Of an unhappy doom, which threatens me! Do I then stand before thee weaponless? Prayer, lovely prayer, fair branch in woman’s hand, More potent far than instruments of war, Thou dost thrust back. What now remains for me Wherewith my inborn freedom to defend? Must I implore a miracle from heaven? Is there no power within my spirit’s depths?

  THOAS.

  Extravagant thy interest in the fate Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are, For whom thy heart is thus so deeply mov’d.

  IPHIGENIA.

  They are — they seem at least — I think them Greeks.

  THOAS.

  Thy countrymen; no doubt they have renew’d The pleasing picture of return.

  IPHIGENIA, after a pause.

  Doth man

  Lay undisputed claim to noble deeds?

  Doth he alone to his heroic breast

  Clasp the impossible? What call we great?

  What deeds, though oft narrated, still uplift

  With shudd’ring horror the narrator’s soul,

  But those which, with improbable success,

  The valiant have attempted? Shall the man

  Who all alone steals on his foes by night,

  And raging like an unexpected fire,

  Destroys the slumbering host, and press’d at length

  By rous’d opponents or his foemen’s steeds,

  Retreats with booty — be alone extoll’d?

  Or he who, scorning safety, boldly roams

  Through woods and dreary wilds, to scour the land

  Of thieves and robbers? Is nought left for us?

  Must gentle woman quite forego her nature, —

  Force against force employ, — like Amazons,

  Usurp the sword from man, and bloodily

  Revenge oppression? In my heart I feel

  The stirrings of a noble enterprize;

  But if I fail — severe reproach, alas!

  And bitter misery will be my doom.

  Thus on my knees I supplicate the gods.

  Oh, are ye truthful, as men say ye are,

  Now prove it by your countenance and aid;

  Honour the truth in me! Attend, O king!

  A secret plot is laid; ’tis vain to ask

  Touching the captives; they are gone, and seek

  Their comrades who await them on the shore.

  The eldest, — he whom madness lately seiz’d,

  And who is now recover’d, — is Orestes,

  My brother, and the other Pylades,

  His early friend and faithful confidant.

  From Delphi, Phœbus sent them to this shore

  With a divine command to steal away

  The image of Diana, and to him

  Bear back the sister, promising for this

  Redemption to the blood-stain’d matricide.

  I have deliver’d now into thy hands

  The remnants of the house of Tantalus. Destroy us — if thou canst.

  THOAS.

  And dost thou think The savage Scythian will attend the voice Of truth and of humanity, unheard By the Greek Atreus?

  IPHIGENIA.

  ’Tis heard by all, Whate’er may be their clime, within whose breast Flows pure and free the gushing stream of life. — What silent purpose broods within thy soul? Is it destruction? Let me perish first! For now, deliv’rance hopeless, I perceive The dreadful peril into which I have With rash precipitancy plung’d my friends. Alas! I soon shall see them bound before me! How to my brother shall I say farewell? I, the unhappy author of his death. Ne’er can I gaze again in his dear eyes!

  THOAS.

  The traitors have contriv’d a cunning web, And cast it round thee, who, secluded long, Giv’st willing credence to thine own desires.

  IPHIGENIA.

  No, no! I’d pledge my life these men are true.

  And shouldst thou find them otherwise, O king,

  Then let them perish both, and cast me forth,

  That on some rock-girt island’s dreary shore

  I may atone my folly. Are they true,

  And is this man indeed my dear Orestes,

  My brother, long implor’d, — release us both,

  And o’er us stretch the kind protecting arm,

  Which long hath shelter’d me. My noble sire

  Fell through his consort’s guilt, — she by her son;

  On him alone the hope of Atreus’ race

  Doth now repose. Oh, with pure heart and hands

  Let me depart to expiate our house.

  Yes, thou wilt keep thy promise; thou didst swear,

  That were a safe return provided me,

  I should be free to go. The hour is come.

  A king doth never grant like common men, Merely to gain a respite from petition; Nor promise what he hopes will ne’er be claim’d. Then first he feels his dignity complete When he can make the long-expecting happy.

  THOAS.

  As fire opposes water, and doth seek With hissing rage to overcome its foe, So doth my anger strive against thy words.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Let mercy, like the consecrated flame Of silent sacrifice, encircl’d round With songs of gratitude, and joy, and praise, Above the tumult gently rise to heaven.

  THOAS.

  How often hath this voice assuag’d my soul!

  IPHIGENIA.

  Extend thy hand to me in sign of peace.

  THOAS.

  Large thy demand within so short a time.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Beneficence doth no reflection need.

  THOAS.

  ’Tis needed oft, for evil springs from good.

  IPHIGENIA.

  ’Tis doubt which good doth oft to evil turn. Consider not: act as thy feelings prompt thee.<
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  SCENE IV.

  ORESTES (armed). IPHIGENIA. THOAS.

  ORESTES, addressing his followers.

  Redouble your exertions! hold them back! Few moments will suffice; retain your ground, And keep a passage open to the ship For me and for my sister.

  To IPHIGENIA, without perceiving THOAS.

  Come with speed! We are betray’d, — brief time remains for flight.

  THOAS.

  None in my presence with impunity His naked weapon wears.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Do not profane Diana’s sanctuary with rage and blood. Command your people to forbear awhile, And listen to the priestess, to the sister.

  ORESTES.

  Say, who is he that threatens us?

  IPHIGENIA.

  In him Revere the king, who was my second father. Forgive me, brother, that my childlike heart Hath plac’d our fate thus wholly in his hands. I have betray’d your meditated flight, And thus from treachery redeem’d my soul.

  ORESTES.

  Will he permit our peaceable return?

  IPHIGENIA.

  Thy gleaming sword forbids me to reply.

  ORESTES, sheathing his sword.

  Then speak! thou seest I listen to thy words.

  SCENE V.

  ORESTES. IPHIGENIA. THOAS.

  Enter PYLADES, soon after him ARKAS, both with drawn swords.

  PYLADES.

  Do not delay! our friends are putting forth Their final strength, and yielding step by step, Are slowly driven backward to the sea. — A conference of princes find I here? Is this the sacred person of the king?

  ARKAS.

  Calmly, as doth become thee, thou dost stand, O king, surrounded by thine enemies. Soon their temerity shall be chastis’d; Their yielding followers fly. — their ship is ours. Speak but the word, and it is wrapt in flames.

  THOAS.

  Go, and command my people to forbear! Let none annoy the foe while we confer. (Arkas retires.)

  ORESTES.

  I willingly consent. Go, Pylades! Collect the remnant of our friends, and wait The appointed issue of our enterprize.

  (Pylades retires.)

  SCENE VI.

  IPHIGENIA. THOAS. ORESTES.

  IPHIGENIA.

  Believe my cares ere ye begin to speak. I fear contention, if thou wilt not hear The voice of equity, O king, — if thou Wilt not, my brother, curb thy headstrong youth.

  THOAS.

  I, as becomes the elder, check my rage. Now answer me: how dost thou prove thyself The priestess’ brother, Agamemnon’s son?