ACT II
SCENE I.—Minna's Room. MINNA, FRANZISKA
MIN. (in morning dress, looking at her watch). Franziska, we have risen very early. The time will hang heavy on our hands.
FRAN. Who can sleep in these abominable large towns? The carriages, the watchmen, the drums, the cats, the soldiers, never cease to rattle, to call, to roll, to mew, and to swear; just as if the last thing the night is intended for was for sleep. Have a cup of tea, my lady!
MIN. I don't care for tea.
FRAN. I will have some chocolate made.
MIN. For yourself, if you like.
FRAN. For myself! I would as soon talk to myself as drink by myself. Then the time will indeed hang heavy. For very weariness we shall have to make our toilets, and try on the dress in which we intend to make the first attack!
MIN. Why do you talk of attacks, when I have only come to require that the capitulation be ratified?
FRAN. But the officer whom we have dislodged, and to whom we have apologized, cannot be the best bred man in the world, or he might at least have begged the honour of being allowed to wait upon you.
MIN. All officers are not Tellheims. To tell you the truth, I only sent him the message in order to have an opportunity of inquiring from him about Tellheim. Franziska, my heart tells me my journey will be a successful one and that I shall find him.
FRAN. The heart, my lady! One must not trust to that too much. The heart echoes to us the words of our tongues. If the tongue was as much inclined to speak the thoughts of the heart, the fashion of keeping mouths under lock and key would have come in long ago.
MIN. Ha! ha! mouths under lock and key. That fashion would just suit me.
FRAN. Rather not show the most beautiful set of teeth, than let the heart be seen through them every moment.
MIN. What, are you so reserved?
FRAN. No, my lady; but I would willingly be more so. People seldom talk of the virtue they possess, and all the more often of that which they do not possess.
MIN. Franziska, you made a very just remark there.
FRAN. Made! Does one make it, if it occurs to one?
MIN. And do you know why I consider it so good? It applies to my Tellheim.
FRAN. What would not, in your opinion, apply to him?
MIN. Friend and foe say he is the bravest man in the world. But who ever heard him talk of bravery? He has the most upright mind; but uprightness and nobleness of mind are words never on his tongue.
FRAN. Of what virtues does he talk then?
MIN. He talks of none, for he is wanting in none.
FRAN. That is just what I wished to hear.
MIN. Wait, Franziska; I am wrong. He often talks of economy. Between ourselves, I believe he is extravagant.
FRAN. One thing more, my lady. I have often heard him mention truth and constancy toward you. What, if he be inconstant?
MIN. Miserable girl! But do you mean that seriously?
FRAN. How long is it since he wrote to you?
MIN. Alas! he has only written to me once since the peace.
FRAN. What!—A sigh on account of the peace? Surprising? Peace ought only to make good the ill which war causes; but it seems to disturb the good which the latter, its opposite, may have occasioned. Peace should not be so capricious!. . . How long have we had peace? The time seems wonderfully long, when there is so little news. It is no use the post going regularly again; nobody writes, for nobody has anything to write about.
MIN. “Peace has been made,” he wrote to me, “and I am approaching the fulfillment of my wishes.” But since he only wrote that to me once, only once—
FRAN. And since he compels us to run after this fulfillment of his wishes ourselves. . . If we can but find him, he shall pay for this! Suppose, in the meantime, he may have accomplished his wishes, and we should learn here that—
MIN. (anxiously). That he is dead?
FRAN. To you, my lady; and married to another.
MIN. You teaze, you! Wait, Franziska, I will pay you out for this! But talk to me, or I shall fall asleep. His regiment was disbanded after the peace. Who knows into what a confusion of bills and papers he may thereby have been brought? Who knows into what other regiment, or to what distant station, he may have been sent? Who knows what circumstances—There's a knock at the door.
FRAN. Come in!
SCENE II.—LANDLORD, MINNA, FRANZISKA
LAND. (putting his head in at the door). Am I permitted, your ladyship?
FRAN. Our landlord?—Come in!
LAND. (A pen behind his ear, a sheet of paper and an inkstand in his hand). I am come, your ladyship, to wish you a most humble good-morning; (to FRANZISKA) and the same to you, my pretty maid.
FRAN. A polite man!
MIN. We are obliged to you.
FRAN. And wish you also a good-morning.
LAND. May I venture to ask how your ladyship has passed the first night under my poor roof?
FRAN. The roof is not so bad, sir; but the beds might have been better.
LAND. What do I hear! Not slept well! Perhaps the over-fatigue of the journey—
MIN. Perhaps.
LAND. Certainly, certainly, for otherwise. . . . Yet, should there be anything not perfectly comfortable, my lady, I hope you will not fail to command me.
FRAN. Very well, Mr. Landlord, very well! We are not bashful; and least of all should one be bashful at an inn. We shall not fail to say what we may wish.
LAND. I next come to . . . (taking the pen from behind his ear).
FRAN. Well?
LAND. Without doubt, my lady, you are already acquainted with the wise regulations of our police.
MIN. Not in the least, sir.
LAND. We landlords are instructed not to take in any stranger, of whatever rank or sex he may be, for four-and-twenty hours, without delivering, in writing, his name, place of abode, occupation, object of his journey, probable stay, and so on, to the proper authorities.
MIN. Very well.
LAND. Will your ladyship then be so good. . . (going to the table, and making ready to write).
MIN. Willingly. My name is—
LAND. One minute! (He writes.) “Date, 22nd August, A. D., &c.; arrived at the King of Spain hotel.” Now your name, my lady.
MIN. Fräulein von Barnhelm.
LAND. (writes). “Von Barnhelm.” Coming from . . . . where, your ladyship?
MIN. From my estate in Saxony.
LAND. (writes). “Estate in Saxony.” Saxony! Indeed, indeed! In Saxony, your ladyship? Saxony?
FRAN. Well, why not? I hope it is no sin in this country to come from Saxony!
LAND. A sin? Heaven forbid! That would be quite a new sin! From Saxony then? Yes, yes, from Saxony, a delightful country, Saxony! But if I am right, your ladyship, Saxony is not small, and has several—how shall I call them?—districts, provinces. Our police are very particular, your ladyship.
MIN. I understand. From my estate in Thuringia, then.
LAND. From Thuringia! Yes, that is better, your ladyship; that is more exact. (Writes and reads.) “Fräulein von Barnhelm, coming from her estate in Thuringia, together with her lady in waiting and two men servants.”
FRAN. Lady in waiting! That means me, I suppose!
LAND. Yes, my pretty maid.
FRAN. Well, Mr. Landlord, instead of “lady in waiting,” write “maid in waiting.” You say, the police are very exact; it might cause a misunderstanding, which might give me trouble some day when my banns are read out. For I really am still unmarried, and my name is Franziska, with the family name of Willig: Franziska Willig. I also come from Thuringia. My father was a miller, on one of my lady's estates. It is called Little Rammsdorf. My brother has the mill now. I was taken very early to the manor, and educated with my lady. We are of the same age—one-and-twenty next Candlemas. I learnt everything my lady learnt. I should like the police to have a full account of me.
LAND. Quite right, my pretty maid; I will bear that in mind, in case of future inquiries. But now, your ladyship, your business here?
MIN. My business here?
LAND. Have you any business with His Majesty the King?
MIN. Oh! no.
LAND. Or at our courts of justice?
MIN. No.
LAND. Or—
MIN. No, no. I have come here solely on account of my own private affairs.
LAND. Quite right, your ladyship; but what are those private affairs?
MIN. They are . . . Franziska, I think we are undergoing an examination.
FRAN. Mr. Landlord, the police surely do not ask to know a young lady's secrets!
LAND. Certainly, my pretty maid; the police wish to know everything, and especially secrets.
FRAN. What is to be done, my lady?. . . Well, listen, Mr. Landlord—but take care that it does not go beyond ourselves and the police.
MIN. What is the simpleton going to tell him?
FRAN. We come to carry off an officer from the king.
LAND. How? What? My dear girl!
FRAN. Or to let ourselves be carried off by the officer. It is all one.
MIN. Franziska, are you mad? The saucy girl is laughing at you.
LAND. I hope not! With your humble servant indeed she may jest as much as she pleases; but with the police—
MIN. I tell you what; I do not understand how to act in this matter. Suppose you postpone the whole affair till my uncle's arrival. I told you yesterday why he did not come with me. He had an accident with his carriage ten miles from here, and did not wish that I should remain a night longer on the road, so I had to come on. I am sure he will not be more than four-and-twenty hours after us.
LAND. Very well, madam, we will wait for him.
MIN. He will be able to answer your questions better. He will know to whom, and to what extent, he must give an account of himself—what he must relate respecting his affairs, and what he may withhold.
LAND. So much the better! Indeed one cannot expect a young girl (looking at FRANZISKA in a marked manner) to treat a serious matter with serious people in a serious manner.
MIN. And his rooms are in readiness, I hope?
LAND. Quite, your ladyship, quite; except the one—
FRAN. Out of which, I suppose, you will have to turn some other honourable gentleman!
LAND. The waiting maids of Saxony, your ladyship, seem to be very compassionate.
MIN. In truth, sir, that was not well done. You ought rather to have refused us.
LAND. Why so, your ladyship, why so?
MIN. I understand that the officer who was driven out on our account—
LAND. Is only a discharged officer, your ladyship.
MIN. Well, what then?
LAND. Who is almost done for.
MIN. So much the worse! He is said to be a very deserving man.
LAND. But I tell you he is discharged.
MIN. The king cannot be acquainted with every deserving man.
LAND. Oh! doubtless he knows them; he knows them all.
MIN. But he cannot reward them all.
LAND. They would have been rewarded if they had lived so as to deserve it. But they lived during the war as if it would last for ever; as if the words “yours” and “mine” were done away with altogether. Now all the hotels and inns are full of them, and a landlord has to be on his guard with them. I have come off pretty well with this one. If he had no more money, he had at any rate money's worth; and I might indeed have let him remain quiet two or three months longer. However, it is better as it is. By-the-by, your ladyship, you understand about jewels, I suppose?
MIN. Not particularly.
LAND. Of course your ladyship must. I must show you a ring, a valuable ring. I see you have a very beautiful one on your finger; and the more I look at it, the more I am astonished at the resemblance it bears to mine. There! just look, just look! (taking the ring from its case, and handing it to her.) What brilliancy! The diamond in the middle alone weighs more than five carats.
MIN. (looking at it). Good heavens! What do I see? This ring—
LAND. Is honestly worth fifteen hundred thalers.
MIN. Franziska! look!
LAND. I did not hesitate for a moment to advance eighty pistoles on it.
MIN. Do not you recognize it, Franziska?
FRAN. The same! Where did you get that ring, Mr. Landlord?
LAND. Come, my girl! you surely have no claim to it?
FRAN. We have no claim to this ring! My mistress' monogram must be on it, on the inner side of the setting. Look at it, my lady.
MIN. It is! it is! How did you get this ring?
LAND. I! In the most honourable way in the world. You do not wish to bring me into disgrace and trouble, your ladyship! How do I know where the ring properly belongs? During the war many a thing often changed masters, both with and without the knowledge of its owner. War was war. Other rings will have crossed the borders of Saxony. Give it me again, your ladyship; give it me again!
FRAN. When you have said from whom you got it.
LAND. From a man whom I cannot think capable of such things; in other respects a good man.
MIN. From the best man under the sun, if you have it from its owner. Bring him here directly! It is himself, or at any rate he must know him.
LAND. Who? who, your ladyship?
FRAN. Are you deaf? Our Major!
LAND. Major! Right! he is a Major, who had this room before you, and from whom I received it.
MIN. Major von Tellheim!
LAND. Yes, Tellheim. Do you know him?
MIN. Do I know him! He is here! Tellheim here! He had this room! He! he pledged this ring with you! What has brought him into this embarrassment? Where is he? Does he owe you anything? Franziska, my desk here! Open it! (FRANZISKA puts it on the table and opens it.) What does he owe you? To whom else does he owe anything? Bring me all his creditors! Here is gold: here are notes. It is all his!
LAND. What is this?
MIN. Where is he? Where is he?
LAND. An hour ago he was here.
MIN. Detested man! how could you act so rudely, so hardly, so cruelly towards him?
LAND. Your ladyship must pardon—
MIN. Quick! Bring him to me.
LAND. His servant is perhaps still here. Does your ladyship wish that he should look for him?
MIN. Do I wish it? Begone, run. For this service alone I will forget how badly you have behaved to him.
FRAN. Now then, quick, Mr. Landlord! Be off! fly! fly! (Pushes him out.)
SCENE III.—MINNA, FRANZISKA
MIN. Now I have found him again, Franziska! Do you hear? Now I have found him again! I scarcely know where I am for joy! Rejoice with me, Franziska. But why should you? And yet you shall; you must rejoice with me. Come, I will make you a present, that you may be able to rejoice with me. Say, Franziska, what shall I give you? Which of my things would please you? What would you like? Take what you will; only rejoice with me. I see you will take nothing. Stop! (Thrusts her hand into the desk.) There, Franziska (gives her money), buy yourself what you like. Ask for more, if it be not sufficient; but rejoice with me you must. It is so melancholy to be happy alone. There, take it, then.
FRAN. It is stealing it from you, my lady. You are intoxicated, quite intoxicated with joy.
MIN. Girl, my intoxication is of a quarrelsome kind. Take it, or (forcing money into her hand) . . . and if you thank me . . . Stay, it is well that I think of it. (Takes more money from the desk.) Put that aside, Franziska, for the first poor wounded soldier who accosts us.
SCENE IV.—LANDLORD, MINNA, AND FRANZISKA
MIN. Well, is he coming?
LAND. The cross, unmannered fellow!
MIN. Who?
LAND. His servant. He refuses to go for him.
FRAN. Bring the rascal here, then. I know all the Major's servants. Which one of them was it?
MIN. Bring him here directly. When he sees us he will go fast enough. (Exit LANDLORD.)
SCENE V.—MINNA, FRANZISKA
MIN. I cannot bear this delay. But, Franziska, how cold you are still! Why will you not share my joy with me?
FRAN. I would from my heart, if only—
MIN. If only what?
FRAN. We have found him again. But how have we found him? From all we hear, it must go badly with him. He must be unfortunate. That distresses me.
MIN. Distresses you! Let me embrace you for that, my dear playmate! I shall never forget this of you. I am only in love, you are good.
SCENE VI.—LANDLORD, JUST, and the above
LAND. With great difficulty I have brought him.
FRAN. A strange face! I do not know him.
MIN. Friend, do you live with Major von Tellheim?
JUST. Yes.
MIN. Where is your master?
JUST. Not here.
MIN. But you could find him?
JUST. Yes.
MIN. Will you fetch him quickly?
JUST. No.
MIN. You will be doing me a favour.
JUST. Indeed!
MIN. And your master a service.
JUST. Perhaps not.
MIN. Why do you suppose that?
JUST. You are the strange lady who sent your compliments to him this morning, I think?
MIN. Yes.
JUST. Then I am right.
MIN. Does your master know my name?
JUST. No; but he likes over-civil ladies as little as over-uncivil landlords.
LAND. That is meant for me, I suppose?
JUST. Yes.
LAND. Well, do not let the lady suffer for it then; but bring him here directly.
MIN. (to FRANZISKA). Franziska, give him something—
FRAN. (trying to put some money into JUST'S hand). We do not require your services for nothing.
JUST. Nor I your money without services.
FRAN. One in return for the other.
JUST. I cannot. My master has ordered me to pack up. That I am now about, and I beg you not to hinder me further. When I have finished, I will take care to tell him that he may come here. He is close by, at the coffee-house; and if he finds nothing better to do there, I suppose he will come. (Going.)
FRAN. Wait a moment! My lady is the Major's . . . sister.
MIN. Yes, yes, his sister.
JUST. I know better; the Major has not a sister. He has sent me twice in six months to his family to Courland. It is true there are different sorts of sisters—
FRAN. Insolent!
JUST. One must be so to get the people to let one alone. (Exit.)
FRAN. That is a rascal.
LAND. So I said. But let him go! I know now where his master is. I will fetch him instantly myself. I only beg your ladyship, most humbly, that you will make an excuse for me to the Major, that I have been so unfortunate as to offend a man of his merit against my will.
MIN. Pray go quickly. I will set all that right again. (Exit the LANDLORD.) Franziska, run after him, and tell him not to mention my name! (Exit FRANZISKA.)
SCENE VII.—MINNA, and afterwards FRANZISKA
MIN. I have found him again!—Am I alone?—I will not be alone to no purpose.—(Clasping her hands.) Yet I am not alone! (Looking upwards.) One single grateful thought towards heaven, is the most perfect prayer! I have found him! I have found him! (With outstretched arms.) I am joyful and happy! What can please the Creator more than a joyful creature! (FRANZISKA returns.) Have you returned, Franziska? You pity him! I do not pity him. Misfortune too is useful. Perhaps heaven deprived him of everything—to give him all again, through me!
FRAN. He may be here at any moment.—You are still in your morning dress, my lady. Ought you not to dress yourself quickly?
MIN. Not at all. He will now see me more frequently so, than dressed out.
FRAN. Oh! you know, my lady, how you look best.
MIN. (after a pause). Truly, girl, you have hit it again.
FRAN. I think women who are beautiful, are most so when unadorned.
MIN. Must we then be beautiful? Perhaps it was necessary that we should think ourselves so. Enough for me, if only I am beautiful in his eyes. Franziska, if all women feel as I now feel, we are—strange things. Tender-hearted, yet proud; virtuous, yet vain; passionate, yet innocent. I dare say you do not understand me. I do not rightly understand myself. Joy turns my head.
FRAN. Compose yourself, my lady, I hear footsteps.
MIN. Compose myself! What! receive him composedly?
SCENE VIII.—MAJOR VON TELLHEIM, LANDLORD, and the above
MAJ. T. (walks in, and the moment he sees MINNA rushes towards her). Ah! my Minna!
MIN. (springing towards him). Ah! my Tellheim!
MAJ. T. (starts suddenly, and draws back). I beg your pardon, Fräulein von Barnhelm; but to meet you here—
MIN. Cannot surely be so unexpected! (Approaching him, whilst he draws back still more.) Am I to pardon you because I am still your Minna? Heaven pardon you, that I am still Fräulein von Barnhelm!
MAJ. T. Fräulein . . . (Looks fixedly at the LANDLORD, and shrugs his shoulders.)
MIN. (sees the LANDLORD, and makes a sign to FRANZISKA). Sir—
MAJ. T. If we are not both mistaken—
FRAN. Why, Landlord, whom have you brought us here? Come, quick! let us go and look for the right man.
LAND. Is he not the right one? Surely!
FRAN. Surely not! Come, quick! I have not yet wished your daughter good morning.
LAND. Oh! you are very good (still does not stir).
FRAN. (takes hold of him). Come, and we will make the bill of fare. Let us see what we shall have.
LAND. You shall have first of all—
FRAN. Stop, I say, stop! If my mistress knows now what she is to have for dinner, it will be all over with her appetite. Come, we must talk that over in private. (Drags him off.)
SCENE IX.—MINNA, MAJOR VON TELLHEIM
MIN. Well, are we still both mistaken?
MAJ. T. Would to heaven it were so!—But there is only one Minna, and you are that one.
MIN. What ceremony! The world might hear what we have to say to one another.
MAJ. T. You here? What do you want here, Madam?
MIN. Nothing now (going to him with open arms). I have found all that I wanted.
MAJ. T. (drawing back). You seek a prosperous man, and one worthy of your love; and you find—a wretched one.
MIN. Then do you love me no longer? Do you love another?
MAJ. T. Ah! he never loved you, who could love another afterwards.
MIN. You draw but one dagger from my breast; for if I have lost your heart, what matters whether indifference or more powerful charms than mine have robbed me of it? You love me no longer; neither do you love another? Wretched man indeed, if you love nothing!
MAJ. T. Right; the wretched must love nothing. He merits his misfortunes, if he cannot achieve this victory over himself—if he can allow the woman he loves to take part in his misfortune. . . Oh! how difficult is this victory! . . . Since reason and necessity have commanded me to forget Minna von Barnhelm, what pains have I taken! I was just beginning to hope that my trouble would not for ever be in vain—and you appear.
MIN. Do I understand you right? Stop, sir; let us see what we mean before we make further mistakes. Will you answer me one question?
MAJ. T. Any one.
MIN. But will you answer me without shift or subterfuge? With nothing but a plain “Yes,” or “No?”
MAJ. T. I will—if I can.
MIN. You can. Well, notwithstanding the pains which you have taken to forget me, do you love me still, Tellheim?
MAJ. T. Madam, that question—
MIN. You have promised to answer Yes, or No.
MAJ. T. And added, If I can.
MIN. You can. You must know what passes in your heart. Do you love me still, Tellheim? Yes, or No?
MAJ. T. If my heart—
MIN. Yes, or No?
MAJ. T. Well, Yes!
MIN. Yes?
MAJ. T. Yes, yes! Yet—
MIN. Patience! You love me still; that is enough for me. Into what a mood have we fallen! an unpleasant, melancholy, infectious mood! I assume my own again. Now, my dear unfortunate, you love me still, and have your Minna still, and are unhappy? Hear what a conceited, foolish thing your Minna was—is. She allowed—allows herself, to imagine that she makes your whole happiness. Declare all your misery at once. She would like to try how far she can outweigh it.—Well?
MAJ. T. Madam, I am not accustomed to complain.
MIN. Very well. I know nothing in a soldier, after boasting, that pleases me less than complaining. But there is a certain cold, careless way of speaking of bravery and misfortune—
MAJ. T. Which at the bottom is still boasting and complaining.
MIN. You disputant! You should not have called yourself unhappy at all then. You should have told the whole, or kept quiet. Reason and necessity commanded you to forget me? I am a great stickler for reason; I have a great respect for necessity. But let me hear how reasonable this reason, and how necessary this necessity may be.
MAJ. T. Listen then, Madam. You call me Tellheim; the name is correct. But suppose I am not that Tellheim whom you knew at home; the prosperous man, full of just pretensions, with a thirst for glory; the master of all his faculties, both of body and mind; before whom the lists of honour and prosperity stood open; who, if he was not then worthy of your heart and your hand, dared to hope that he might daily become more nearly so. This Tellheim I am now, as little as I am my own father. They both have been. Now I am Tellheim the discharged, the suspected, the cripple, the beggar. To the former, Madam, you promised your hand; do you wish to keep your word?
MIN. That sounds very tragic. . . Yet, Major Tellheim, until I find the former one again—I am quite foolish about the Tellheims—the latter will have to help me in my dilemma. Your hand, dear beggar! (taking his hand).
MAJ. T. (holding his hat before his face with the other hand, and turning away from her). This is too much!. . . What am I?. . . Let me go, Madam. Your kindness tortures me! Let me go.
MIN. What is the matter? Where would you go?
MAJ. T. From you!
MIN. From me (drawing his hand to her heart)? Dreamer!
MAJ. T. Despair will lay me dead at your feet.
MIN. From me?
MAJ. T. From you. Never, never to see you again. Or at least determined, fully determined, never to be guilty of a mean action; never to cause you to commit an imprudent one. Let me go, Minna! (Tears himself away, and Exit.)
MIN. (calling after him). Let you go, Minna? Minna, let you go? Tellheim! Tellheim!