The subterranean chapel of the castle of Griefenhaus. It seems deserted, and in decay. There are four entrances, each defended by an iron portal. At each door stands a warder clothed in black, and masked, armed with a naked sword. During the whole scene they remain motionless on their posts. In the centre of the chapel is the ruinous altar, half sunk in the ground, on which lie a large book, a dagger, and a coil of ropes, beside two lighted tapers. Antique stone benches of different heights around the chapel. In the back scene is seen a dilapidated entrance into the sacristy, which is quile dark. Various Members of the Invisible Tribunal enter by the four different doors of the chapel. Each whispers something as he passes the Warder, which is answered by an inclination of the head. The costume of the Members is a long black robe, capable of muffling the face some wear it in this manner; others have their faces uncovered, unless on the entrance of a stranger: they place themselves in profound silence upon the stone benches. Enter COUNT RODERIC, dressed in a scarlet cloak of the same form with those of the other Members. He takes his place on the most elevated bench. Rod. Warders, secure the doors! (The doors are barred with great care.) Herald, do thy duty! [Members all rise-Herald stands by the altar. Her. Members of the Invisible Tribunal, who judge in secret, and avenge in secret, like the Deity, are your hearts free from malice, and your hands from blood-guiltiness? [All the Members incline their heads. Rod. God pardon our sins of ignorance, and preserve us from those of presumption. [Again the members solemnly incline their heads. Her. To the east, and to the west, and to the north, and to the south, I raise my voice; wherever there is treason, wherever there is blood-guiltiness, wherever there is sacrilege, sorcery, robbery, or perjury, there let this curse alight, and pierce the marrow and the bone. Raise, then, your voices, and say with me, wo! wo, unto offenders! All. Wo! wo! [Members sit down. Her. He who knoweth of an unpunished crime, let him stand forth as bound by his oath when his hand was laid upon the dagger and upon the cord, and call to the assembly for vengeance! Member (rises, his face covered) Vengeance! vengeance! vengeance! Rod. Upon whom dost thou invoke vengeance! Accuser. Upon a brother of this order, who is forsworn and perjured to its laws. Rod. Relate his crime. Accuser. This perjured brother was sworn, upon the steel and upon the cord, to denounce malefactors to the judgment-seat, from the four quarters of heaven, though it were the spouse of his heart, or the son whom he loved as the apple of his eye: yet did he conceal the guilt of one who was dear unto him; he folded up the crime from the knowledge of the tribunal; he removed the evidence of guilt, and withdrew the criminal from justice. What does his perjury deserve ? Rod. Accuser, come before the altar; lay thy hand upon the dagger and the cord, and swear to the truth of thy accusation. Accuser (his hand on the altar). I swear! Rod. Wilt thou take upon thyself the penalty of perjury, should it be found false? Accuser. I will. Rod. Brethren, what is your sentence? [The Members confer a moment in whispers—a silence. Eldest Mem. Our voice is, that the perjured brother merits death. Rod. Accuser, thou hast heard the voice of the assembly; name the criminal. Accuser. George, Baron of Aspen. [A murmur in the assembly. A Member (suddenly rising). I am ready, according to our holy laws, to swear, by the steel and the cord, that George of Aspen merits not this accusation, and that it is a foul calumny. Accuser. Rash man! gagest thou an oath so lightly? Member. I gage it not lightly. I proffer it in the cause of innocence and virtue. Accuser. What if George of Aspen should not himself deny the charge? Member. Then would I never trust man again. Accuser. Hear him, then, bear witness against himself (throws back his manile). Rod. Baron George of Aspen! Geo. The same-prepared to do penance for the crime of which he stands self-accused. Rod. Still canst thou disclose the name of the criminal whom thou hast rescued from justice, on that condition alone, thy brethren may save thy life. Geo. Thinkest thou I would betray for the safety of my life, a secret I have preserved at the breach of my word? No! I have weighed the value of my obligation-I will not discharge it—but most willingly will I pay the penalty! Rod. Retire, George of Aspen, till the assembly pronounce judgment. Geo. Welcome be your sentence-I am weary of your yoke of iron. A light beams on my soul. Wo to those who seek justice in the dark haunts of mystery and of cruelty! She dwells in the broad blaze of the sun, and Mercy is ever by her side. Wo to those who would advance the general weal by trampling upon the social affections! they aspire to be more than men-they shall become worse than tigers. I go: better for me your altars should be stained with my blood, than my soul blackened with your crimes. [Exit GEORGE, by the ruinous door in the back scene, into the sacristy. Rod. Brethren, sworn upon the steel and upon the cord, to judge and to avenge in secret, without favour and without pity, what is your judgment upon George of Aspen, self-accused of perjury, and resistance to the laws of our fraternity. [Long and earnest murmurs in the assembly. Rod. Speak your doom. Eldest Mem. George of Aspen has declared himself perjured the penalty of perjury is death! Rod. Father of the secret judges-Eldest among those who avenge in secret-take to thee the steel and the cord;-let the guilty no longer cumber the land. Eldest Mem. I am fourscore and eight years old. My eyes are dim, and my hand is feeble; soon shall I be called before the throne of my Creator;-How shall I stand there, stained with the blood of such a man? Rod. Speak, accuser. Ber. I impeach thee, Isabella of Aspen, before this awful assembly, of having murdered, privily and by poison, Arnolf of Ebersdorf, thy first husband. Rod. Canst thou swear to the accusation? Ber. (his hand on the altar.) I lay my hand on the steel and the cord, and swear. Rod. Isabella of Aspen, thou hast heard thy accu Rod. How wilt thou stand before that throne, load-sation. What canst thou answer? ed with the guilt of a broken oath? The blood of the criminal be upon us and ours! Eldest Mem. So be it, in the name of God! [He takes the dagger from the altar, goes slowly Geo. (behind.) I do! (He is heard to fall heavily!) [He is assisted off the stage. During this four Ber. I raise my voice in this assembly, and cry, Vengeance! vengeance! vengeance! Rod. Enough has this night been done-(he rises and brings Bertram forward). Think what thou doest -George has fallen-it were murder to slay both mother and son. Ber. George of Aspen was thy victim-a sacrifice to thy hatred and envy. I claim mine, sacred to justice and to my murdered brother. Resume thy place!— thou canst not stop the rock thou hast put in motion. Isa. That the oath of an accuser is no proof of guilt! Rod. Have you finished? Isa. A moment. Years after years have elapsed without a whisper of this foul suspicion. Arnolf left a brother! though common fame had been silent, natural affection would have been heard against me— why spoke he not my accusation? Or has my conduct justified this horrible charge? No! awful judges, I may answer, I have founded cloisters, I have endowed hospitals. The goods that Heaven bestowed on me I have not held back from the needy. I appeal to you, judges of evil, can these proofs of innocence be down-weighed by the assertion of an unknown and disguised, perchance a malignant accuser? Ber. No longer will I wear that disguise (throws back his mantle). Dost thou know me now? Isa. Yes; I know thee for a wandering minstrel, relieved by the charity of my husband. Ber. No, traitress! know me for Bertram of Ebers- | midnight murderers, he was innocent (raising his dorf, brother to him thou didst murder. Call her ac- voice)-upright as the truth itself. Let the man complice, Martin. Ha! turn'st thou pale? who dares gainsay me lift that gage. If the Al Isa.. May I have some water ?-(Apart.) Sacred mighty does not strengthen these frail limbs, to Heaven! his vindictive look is so like [Water is brought. A Member. Martin died in the hands of our brethren. Rod. Dost thou know the accuser, lady? Isa. (reassuming fortitude.) Let not the sinking of nature under this dreadful trial be imputed to the consciousness of guilt. I do know the accuser-know him to be outlawed for homicide, and under the ban of the empire: his testimony cannot be received. Eldest Judge. She says truly. Ber. (to RODERIC.) Then I call upon thee and William of Wolfstein to bear witness to what you know. Rod. Wolfstein is not in the assembly, and my place prevents me from being a witness. make good a father's quarrel, I have a son left, who will vindicate the honour of Aspen, or lay his bloody body beside his brother's. Rod. Rash and insensate! Hear first the cause. Hear the dishonour of thy house. Isa. (from the sacristy.) Never shall he hear it till the author is no more! (RUDIGER attempts to rush towards the sacristy, but is prevented. ISABELLA enters wounded, and throws herself on GEORGE's body.) Isa. Murdered for me-for me! my dear, dear son! Rud. (still held.) Cowardly villains, let me loose! Maltingen, this is thy doing! Thy face thou wouldst disguise, thy deeds thou canst not! I defy thee to Ber. Then I will call another: meanwhile let the instant and mortal combat! accused be removed. Rod. Retire, lady. [ISABELLA is led to the sacristy. Isa. (in going off.) The ground is slippery-Heavens! it is floated with blood! [Exit into the sacristy. Rod. (apart to BERTRAM.) Whom dost thou mean to call? [BERTRAM whispers. Rod. This goes beyond me. (After a moment's thought.) But be it so. Maltingen shall behold Aspen humbled in the dust. (Aloud.) Brethren, the accuser calls for a witness who remains without: admit him. [All muffle their faces. Enter RUDIGER, his eyes bound or covered, leaning upon two members; they place a stool for him, and unbind his eyes. Isa. (looking up.) No! no! endanger not thy life! Myself! myself! I could not bear thou shouldst know -Oh! (Dies.) Rud. Oh! let me go-let me but try to stop her blood, and I will forgive all. Rod. Drag him off and detain him. The voice of lamentation must not disturb the stern deliberation of justice. Rud. Bloodhound of Maltingen! Well beseems thee thy base revenge! The marks of my son's lance are still on thy craven crest! Vengeance on the band of ye! [RUDIGER is dragged off to the sacristy. Rod. Brethren, we stand discovered! What is to be done to him who shall descry our mystery? Eldest Judge. He must become a brother of our order, or die! Rod. This man will never join us! He cannot put his hand into ours, which are stained with the Rod. Knowest thou where thou art, and before | blood of his wife and son: he must therefore die! whom? Rud. I know not, and I care not. Two strangers summoned me from my castle to assist, they said, at a great act of justice. I ascended the litter they brought, and I am here. Rod. It regards the punishment of perjury and the discovery of murder. Art thou willing to assist us? Rud. Most willing, as is my duty. Rod. What if the crime regard thy friend? Rod. Then canst thou not blame us for this deed of justice. Remove the pall. (The pall is lifted, beneath which is discovered the body of GEORGE pale and bloody. RUDIGER staggers towards it.) Rud. My George! my George! Not slain manly in battle, but murdered by legal assassins. Much, much may I mourn thee, my beloved boy; but not now-not now never will I shed a tear for thy death till I have cleared thy fame.-Hear me, ye (Murmurs in the assembly.) Brethren! I wonder not at your reluctance; but the man is powerful, has friends and allies to buckler his cause. It is over with us, and with our order, unless the laws are obeyed. (Fainter murmurs.) Besides, have we not sworn a deadly oath to execute these statutes? (A dead silence.) Take to thee the steel and the cord (to the eldest judge). Eldest Judge. He has done no evil-he was the companion of my battle-I will not! Rod. (to another.) Do thou-and succeed to the rank of him who has disobeyed. Remember your oath! (Member takes the dagger, and goes irresolutely forward; looks into the sacristy, and comes back.) Member. He has fainted-fainted in anguish for his wife and his son; the bloody ground is strewed with his white hairs, torn by those hands that have fought for Christendom. I will not be your butcher. (Throws down the dagger.) Ber. Irresolute and perjured! the robber of my inheritance, the author of my exile, shall die! Rod. Thanks, Bertram. Execute the doom-se- degrade thee from thy sacred office (spreads his cure the safety of the holy tribunal! [BERTRAM seizes the dagger, and is about to rush All. Hold! Hold! [The Duke of BAVARIA, attended by many mem hands, as pushing RODERIC from him). If after two days thou darest to pollute Bavarian ground by thy footsteps, be it at the peril of the steel and the cord. (RODERIC rises.) I dissolve this meeting (all rise). Judges and condemners of others, God teach you bers of the Invisible Tribunal, enters, dressed knowledge of yourselves! (All bend their headsDuke breaks his rod, and comes forward.) in a scarlet mantle trimmed with ermine, and Rod. Lord Duke, thou hast charged me with trea his hand-All rise.—▲ murmur among the chery-thou art my liege lord-but who else dares maintain the accusation, lies in his throat. members, who whisper to each other, "The Duke," " The Chief," etc. Rod. The Duke of Bavaria! I am lost. Duke (sees the bodies). I am too late-the victims have fallen. Hen. (who enters with the Duke.) Gracious Heaven! O George! Hen. (rushing from the sacristy.) Villain! I accept thy challenge! Rod. Vain boy! my lance shall chastise thee in the lists-there lies my gage. Duke. Henry, on thy allegiance, touch it not. (To RODERIC.) Lists shalt thou never more enter; lance Rud. (from the sacristy.) Henry-it is thy voice- shalt thou never more wield (draws his sword). With save me! [HENRY rushes into the sacristy. Duke. Roderic of Maltingen, descend from the seat which thou hast dishonoured.-(RODERIC leaves his place, which the Duke occupies.)-Thou standest accused of having perverted the laws of our order; for that, being a mortal enemy to the House of Aspen, thou hast abused thy sacred authority to pander to thy private revenge; and to this Wolfstein has been witness. Rod. Chief among our circles, I have but acted according to our laws. Duke. Thou hast indeed observed the letter of our statutes, and wo am I that they do warrant this night's bloody work! I cannot do unto thee as 1 would, but what I can I will. Thou hast not indeed transgressed our law, but thou hast wrested and abused it kneel down, therefore, and place thy hands betwixt mine. (RODERIC kneels as directed.) I this sword wast thou dubbed a knight; with this GOETZ OF BERLICHINGEN; A TRAGEDY.' PREFACE. Goetz of Berlichingen, the hero of the following drama, flourished in the 15th century, during the reign of Maximilian the First, Emperor of Germany. Previous to this period every German Noble holding a fief immediately from the Emperor, exercised on his estate a species of sovereignty subordinate to the Imperial authority alone. Thus, from the princes and prelates possessed of extensive territories, down to the free knights and barons, whose domains consisted of a castle and a few acres of mountain and forest ground, each was a petty monarch upon his own property, independent of all control but the remote supremacy of the Emperor. Among the extensive rights conferred by such a constitution, that of waging war against each other by their own private authority, was most precious to a race of proud and military barons. These private wars were called feuds, and the privilege of carrying them on was named Faustrecht (club-law). As the empire advanced in civilisation, the evils attending feuds became dreadfully conspicuous: each petty knight was by law entitled to make war upon his neighbours without any further ceremony than three days previous defiance by a written form called Fehdbrief. Even * Goetz of Berlichingen, with the Iron land, a Tragedy, from the German of Goethe. By Walter Scott, Esq. Advocate, Edinburgh. London: Printed for J. Bell, No, 148, Oxford Street, opposite New Bond Street, 1799. the Golden Bull, which remedied so many evils in the Germanic body, left this dangerous privilege in full vigour. In time the residence of every free baron became a fortress, from which, as his passions or avarice dictated, sallied a band of marauders, to back his quarrel, or to collect an extorted revenue from the merchants who presumed to pass through his domain. At length whole bands of these freebooting nobles used to league together for the purpose of mutual defence against their more powerful neighbours, as likewise for that of predatory incursions against the princes, free towns, and ecclesiastic states of the empire, whose wealth tempted the needy barons to exercise against them their privilege of waging private war. These confederacies were distinguished by various titles expressive of their object: we find among them the Brotherhood of the Mace, the Knights of the Bloody Sleeve, etc., etc. If one of the brotherhood was attacked, the rest marched without delay to his assistance; and thus, though individually weak, the petty feudatories maintained their ground against the more powerful members of the empire. Their independence and privileges were recognised and secured to them by many edicts; and though hated and occasionally oppressed by the princes and ecclesiastic authorities, to whom in return they were a scourge and a pest, they continued to maintain tenaciously the good old privilege (as they termed it) of Faustrecht, which they had inherited from their fathers. Amid the obvious mischiefs attending such a state of society, it must be allowed that it was frequently the means of calling into exercise the highest heroic virtues. Men daily exposed to danger, and living by the constant exertion of their courage, acquired the virtues as well as the vices of a savage state; and among many instances of cruelty and rapine, occur not a few of the most exalted valour and generosity. If the fortress of a German knight was the dread of the wealthy merchant and abbot, it was often the ready and hospitable refuge of the weary pilgrim and oppressed peasant. Although the owner subsisted by the plunder of the rich, yet he was frequently beneficent to the poor, and beloved by his own family dependents and allies. The spirit of chivalry doubtless contributed much to soften the character of these marauding nobles. A respect for themselves taught them generosity towards their prisoners, and certain acknowledged rules prevented many of the atrocities which it might have been expected would have marked these feuds. No German noble, for example, if made captive, was confined in fetters or in a dungeon, but remained a prisoner at large upon his parole, (which was called knightly ward,) either in the castle of his conqueror, or in some other place assigned to him. The same species of honourable captivity was often indulged by the Emperor to offenders of a noble rank, of which some-instances will be found in the following pages. Such was the state of the German nobles, when, on the 7th of August, 1495, was published the memorable edict of Maximilian for the establishment of the public peace of the empire. By this ordinance the right of private war was totally abrogated, under the penalty of the ban of the empire, to be enforced by the Imperial Chamber then instituted. This was at once a sentence of anathema secular and spiritual, containing the dooms of outlawry and excommunication. This ordinance was highly acceptable to the princes, bishops, and free towns, who had little to gain and much to lose in these perpetual feuds: and they combined to enforce it with no small severity against the petty feudatories :-these, on the other hand, sensible that the very root of their importance consisted in their privilege of declaring private war, without which they foresaw they would not long be able to maintain their independence, struggled hard against the execution of this edict; by which their confederacies were declared unlawful, and all means taken from them of resisting their richer neighbours. Upon the jarring interests of the princes and clergy on the one hand, and of the free knights and petty Imperial feudatories on the other, arise the incidents of the following drama. The hero, Goetz of Berlichingen, was in reality a zealous champion for the privileges of the free knights, and was repeatedly laid under the ban of the empire for the feuds in which he was engaged, from which he was only released in consequence of high reputation for gallantry and generosity. His life was published at Nuremberg, 1731; and some account of his exploits, with a declaration of feud (Fehdbrief) issued by him against that city, will be found in Meusel's Enquiry into History, vol. iv. While the princes and free knights were thus banded against each other, the peasants and bondsmen remained in the most abject state of ignorance and oppression. This occasioned at different times the most desperate insurrections, resembling in their nature, and in the atrocities committed by the furious insurgents, the rebellions of Tyler and Cade in England, or that of the Jacquerie in France. Such an event occurs in the following Tragedy. There is also a scene founded upon the noted institution called the Secret or Invisible Tribunal. With this extraordinary judicatory, the members and executioners of which were unknown, and met in secret to doom to death those criminals whom others courts of justice could not reach, the English reader has been made acquainted by several translations from the German, particularly the excellent romances called Herman of Unna, and Alf von Duilman. The following drama was written by the elegant Author of the Sorrows of Werter, in imitation, it is said, of the manner of Shakspeare. This resemblance is not to be looked for in the style or expression, but in the outline of the characters, and mode of conducting the incidents of the piece. In Germany it is the object of enthusiastic admiration; partly owing, doubtless, to the force of national partiality towards a performance in which the ancient manners of the country are faithfully and forcibly painted. Losing, however, this advantage, and under all the defects of a translation, the Translator ventures to hope that in the following pages there will still be found something to excite interest. Some liberties have been taken with the original, in omitting two occasional disquisitions upon the Civil Law as practised in Germany. Literal accuracy has been less studied in the translation, than an attempt to convey the spirit and general effect of the piece. Upon the whole, it is hoped the version will be found faithful; of which the Translator is less distrustful, owing to the friendship of a Gentleman of high literary eminence, who has obligingly taken the trouble of superintending the publication. EDINBURGH, 3d February, 1799. |