Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 231
Governess.
I doubt not thou thyself hast solv’d the riddle.
It signifies a coming elevation.
The finery of a princess is allow’d thee
Because the King will soon declare thy rank.
Eugenie.
What makes thee think so?
Governess.
Oh, I know it well!
The secrets of the great are never kept.
Eugenie.
Well, if thou knowest, why should I dissemble?
Shall I restrain before thee without reason
My curiosity to see this gift? The key
Is here! I know my father did forbid it.
Yet what did he forbid? To tell the secret
Before the time. Yet thou already knowest
The weighty news: what more is there to tell
Than thou hast heard, and through thy love for me
Hast kept in guard beneath the seal of silence?
Why then delay? Come, let us open! come!
So that the glory of the gifts may charm us!
Governess.
Nay! touch it not! Remember his forbiddance.
Who knows the reason of the Duke’s command?
Eugenie.
He had a purpose for his prohibition,
That purpose now is render’d nugatory;
Thou knowest all. Thou lovest me, thou art
A faithful friend that can preserve a secret.
So let us push the bolt and close the chamber,
And let us quick together solve the mystery.
[She shuts the chamber door and runs to the casket.
Governess.
(Restraining her.) The gold, the colors of the splendid fabrics,
The soft light of the pearls, the gleam of jewels,
Ah! let them all remain unseen! They tempt thee
Beyond control to seek the fatal goal!
artist: otto seitz.
THE NATURAL DAUGHTER. ACT II, SCENE IV.
eugenia placing the parchment in the press.
Eugenie.
Not they, but what they signify, attract me.
[She opens the box; mirrors adorn the cover.
What costly raiment, lying folded there
E’en as I touch it, shows before my eyes!
And do these mirrors not make swift demand
To image forth the maiden in her jewels?
Governess.
Medea’s fiery garment seems to me
To lie unfolded in my nerveless hand!
Eugenie.
What Melancholy weaves its mist around thee?
Think rather of delightful bridal feasts!
Come! reach the treasures to me one by one!
That underdress! how richly, sweetly gleam
The silver gauze, the sparkle of its hues.
Governess.
(Throwing the garment over Eugenie’s shoulders.) If e’er the rays of Favor’s sun should darken,
The cause would be such glory’s bright reflection.
Eugenie.
A faithful heart deserves the rays of favor,
And if they fail it draws them back again. —
Now bring the gold-embroider’d overskirt,
And spread the train with all its wealth of lace.
The brilliancy of flowers has ting’d the gold
Spread in metallic hues with tasteful choice.
Am I not beautiful in this array?
Governess.
Yet beauty unadorn’d is honor’d more
For its own splendor by the truly wise.
Eugenie.
The truly wise may treasure simple beauty,
But most prefer the beauty that’s adorn’d. —
Now bring the tender twilight of the pearls,
The flashing glory of the splendid jewels.
Governess.
Yet not the appearance but the genuine worth
Can satisfy the cravings of thy heart!
Eugenie.
What is appearance having naught of substance,
And what would substance be without appearance?
Governess.
And hast thou not enjoy’d within these walls
The long untroubled days of sunny youth,
Nor felt the secret bliss of holy rapture
When cradled with the hearts of those that love thee?
Eugenie.
The tender bud rejoices in its calyx
So long as Winter’s frost besieges it;
But now the breath of Spring inspires its life,
It bursts in blossoms, full of light and fragrance!
Governess.
But moderation gives a joy serene!
Eugenie.
Provided that a moderate aim is set.
Governess.
He who enjoys submits to limitations.
Eugenie.
Thy arguments persuade me not, thus rob’d.
Oh, would that this apartment might expand
Until it reach’d the glory of the King’s.
That splendid carpets deck’d the polish’d floors,
That golden groins might overarch the vault!
And thus before the throne of royalty
With humble pride, among the haughty nobles
Reflecting back the smiling beams of grace,
I ‘mid the circle of distinguish’d ones
Should stand the most distinguish’d at the pageant.
Oh, let me have the foretaste of this joy
When all the world shall wonder at my fortune.
Governess.
Thou’lt be an object not of wonder only:
Envy will mark thee, hate will seek thy ruin.
Eugenie.
Success must ever raise the coils of envy.
We learn to keep our guard when haters prowl.
Governess.
Humiliation oft surprises pride.
Eugenie.
Presence of mind will guard against surprise!
[Turning to the dressing-case.
Not yet have we examin’d everything.
For self alone I do not ask this fortune;
With others would I all my treasures share.
Governess.
(Taking out a jewel box.)
Here written on this box the words: “For Gifts.”
Eugenie.
Then pray select the things that please thee most.
Among these watches, boxes, take thy choice.
Yet hold! Be wary! Who can tell? Perchance
Yet costlier things lie hid within the case!
Governess.
Would that a powerful talisman were here
To win thy cruel brother’s love to thee!
Eugenie.
The pure affections of the ingenuous heart
May gradually soften his ill will.
Governess.
Yet those who strive to make more black his grudge
Are pledg’d forever to oppose thy wishes.
Eugenie.
If they till now have sought to block my fortune,
Yet since the grand decision has been made
They will each one conform without a murmur.
Governess.
That which thou hopest is not yet accomplish’d.
Eugenie.
Yet ’tis so safe that I can call it done.
[Returning to the case again.
See what is lying in that long flat box!
Governess.
(Uncovering it.) The loveliest ribbons, fresh and newly chosen!
Ah, let not curious contemplation ruin
With dissipating tendency thy mind.
Oh, would it might be, that my earnest warning
Should make a moment’s impress on thy mind.
From the still circle thou wilt soon emerge
On wider fields where anxious cares will harass,
Where dangerous snares, where Death itself, perchance,
From murderous hands o
f enemies await thee.
Eugenie.
Thou art unwell! How can my sure success
Appear to thee as frightful as a spectre?
[Gazing into the box.
What do I see? This roll! ’tis verily
The ribbon of the noblest princely order!
This also I must wear then! Come! make haste!
I wish to see its whole effect! ’Tis part
Of this superb array. It must be tried!
[The order is attached.
Now prate to me of death! now prate of danger!
What nobler grace than when a man can stand
In all the bravery of heroic garb
Amid his peers in presence of his King?
What gives more satisfaction to the eye
Than robes that tell of splendid lines of knights?
This raiment and its colors are they not
A symbol of the danger ever near?
The sash, significant of war, wherewith
A man with dauntless courage girds himself?
My friend, my love! Whatever ornament
Is emblematical of peril, that
Must, of necessity, be dangerous!
So give me then the sentiment of courage
To meet the dangers menacing my path,
Array’d, as now, in splendid princely garb.
Henceforth, irrevocable is my fortune.
Governess.
(Aside.) The fate that calls thee is irrevocable.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The Antechamber of the Duke,furnished in magnificent modern style.
Secretary. Secular Priest.
Secretary.
Tread silently into this deathly silence!
The palace is as quiet as the tomb.
The Duke is sleeping, and the servants all,
Touch’d by his grief, are bent in sympathy.
He sleeps! I bless’d him as I saw him lie
Wrapp’d in unconsciousness upon his pillow
Peacefully breathing. The excess of woe
Has yielded to the healing balm of Nature.
The moment that shall wake him, that I fear —
A man of grief before you will appear!
Secular Priest.
I am prepar’d to see him, doubt it not.
Secretary.
An hour or two ago the tidings came
That fair Eugenie had been thrown and kill’d.
You must confirm it: say that she was brought
Unto your chapel as the nearest place
That they could take her from the treacherous ground,
Where, boldly courting death, she forc’d her steed.
Secular Priest.
And in the meantime she is far away?
Secretary.
With breathless haste the speeding coursers fly.
Secular Priest.
To whom entrust you such a weighty task?
Secretary.
The prudent goodwife who is wholly ours.
Secular Priest.
To what far region have you sent the maid?
Secretary.
The port that lies most distant in this realm.
Secular Priest.
And will a foreign shore receive her next?
Secretary.
The favoring wind will bear her quickly hence.
Secular Priest.
And will they here forever think her dead?
Secretary.
The purport of thy fiction shall decide.
Secular Priest.
And so this error from the very first
Will sway the fortune of all coming time.
Her very grave is feign’d, and for her body
A mask shall cheat the eye. Her lovely image
Shall shatter in a thousand pieces. Horror
Shall sear my wretched hearer’s loving heart,
As though with fire, because of this misfortune.
All think her dead, she disappears forever
Within the ashes, gray, of nothingness.
Then each of us will quickly turn to life,
And in the tumult of the busy world
Forget that she too, though so far away,
Still breathes the air of life among the living.
Secretary.
Dost thou with utter boldness face the deed?
Will not remorse remain with bitter sting?
Secular Priest.
Thou askest such a question? We are firm.
Secretary.
An inward dissatisfaction oftentimes
Against our will accompanies an action.
Secular Priest.
What do I hear? art thou become repentant,
Or wilt thou only test me if I be
A worthy pupil in the arts thou teachest?
Secretary.
Never sufficiently do men reflect!
Secular Priest.
They should reflect before the deed’s begun.
Secretary.
’Tis not too late before the deed is done.
Secular Priest.
For me the door of forethought is shut fast.
The time for that was when I still delay’d
Within the Paradise of simple joys:
When, bounded by the garden’s cosy hedge,
I grafted trees that I myself had planted,
And fed my table from the narrow beds,
When still contentment in the little house
Supplied a sense of having wealth unbounded,
And when, according to my light, I spoke
Unto the congregation from my heart,
A friend with friends, a father with his children,
And gave my hand to aid the worthy man,
And stopp’d the bad man and the sin he did.
Oh, would that some beneficent spirit had then
Turn’d from my door thy hesitating steps,
Whereto thou, weary, thirsty from the chase,
Didst come to knock and with thy flattering ways,
Thy wily words, didst lay a spell upon me!
That beauteous day on which our friendship hung
Peace spread her wings and fled forever from me!
Secretary.
We brought thee many pleasures, did we not?
Secular Priest.
And many anxious wants which weight me down.
I felt my poverty to see the rich.
Anxiety oppress’d me, for I lack’d;
And in my need I ask’d for help from others.
You brought me aid: dearly I pay for it.
You took me as the comrade of your fortune.
You took me as the complice of your deeds —
Nay, rather should I say the slave, for such
You made the once free now abandon’d man.
You gave him pay forsooth, but yet denied
The sole reward which he had dared to ask.
Secretary.
Have faith that we shall load thee down ere long
With honors, benefices and estates.
Secular Priest.
But those are not the things that I expect.
Secretary.
And now what new demand hast thou conceiv’d?
Secular Priest.
You use me as a tool devoid of feelings
Thus once again. This noble child ye thrust
Forth from the living circle of her friends.
’Tis I must palliate, must hide the deed,
Yet you determine and I have no voice.
Henceforth I ask to join your secret conclave
Where frightful deeds are plann’d, where every man
Proud of his strength and genius bends the course
Of monstrous actions unavoidable.
Secretary.
That thou so closely art with us allied
Gives thee a new and potent claim upon us.
With weighty secrets shalt thou soon be trusted.
And so be pat
ient and control thyself.
Secular Priest.
I am, and far more patient than you think.
Long since I saw the purport of your plans.
He only merits secret consecration
Who through presentiment anticipates.
Secretary.
What dost thou guess? What dost thou know?
Secular Priest.
Let that
Be spared until we meet at midnight’s hour.
Alas! this maiden’s melancholy fate
Has vanish’d like a brook in ocean’s tide,
When I consider how ye lift yourselves
In secret in a mighty party schism,
And hope, by treacherous wiles, to oust the King,
And foist yourselves as rulers on the land.
Not you alone, for others also strive
In rivalry with you to reach your goal.
And so ye undermine the throne and State.
Who shall be rescued from the impending fate?
Secretary.
Hush! Some one comes! Hide in this secret closet.
When it is time I’ll summon thee to enter.
SCENE II.
Duke. Secretary.
Duke.
O baleful light! thou call’st me back to life,
Thou bringest me to knowledge of the world
And of myself again. How barren, bare and hollow
Lies all before me now, and burn’d to ashes!
A heap of ruins is my happiness!
Secretary.
If each and every of thy faithful friends
Who suffer with thee at this hour could bear
A portion of thy sorrows, how would’st thou
Not feel thyself renew’d in strength and courage!
Duke.
The wound to love like love itself remains
Incurable, unending! Now I know
The terrible disaster which befalls
The man who misses his accustom’d weal.
Oh, why did you allow these well-known walls
To shine upon me with their bravery
Of gold and color, calling back the days —
The yesterdays — of my complete delight
With chilling sense of loss? Why did you not
Envelop halls and chambers with black crape,
So that the everlasting shades of night,
Without me as within, might cast their gloom?
Secretary.
Oh, would that still thy many blessings might
In spite of loss seem something in thy sight!
Duke.
A dream embodied, free from spirit bonds!
She was the living soul that fill’d this house.
Whene’er I wak’d how sweet before mine eyes
Hover’d the image of the lovely maiden!
Here oft I found a leaflet from her hand,
A soulful, heartfelt word for morning greeting!
Secretary.
How oft the wish to give her father joy
Express’d itself in fresh melodious verse!