Коллектив авторов - The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 03

Throw thyself up into the chariot-seat,

Seize with firm hand the reins, ere thy opponent

Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest

Of the now empty seat. The moment comes;

It is already here, when thou must write

The absolute total of thy life's vast sum.

The constellations stand victorious o'er thee,

The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions,

And tell thee, "Now's the time!" The starry courses

Hast thou thy life long measured to no purpose?

The quadrant and the circle, were they play-things?

[ Pointing to the different objects in the room .]

The zodiacs, the rolling orbs of heaven,

Hast pictured on these walls, and all around thee

In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed

These seven presiding Lords of Destiny—

For toys? Is all this preparation nothing?

Is there no marrow in this hollow art,

That even to thyself it doth avail

Nothing, and has no influence over thee

In the great moment of decision?—

WALLENSTEIN. ( during this last speech walks up and down with inward struggles, laboring with passion; stops suddenly, stands still, then interrupting the COUNTESS).

Send Wrangel to me—I will instantly

Dispatch three couriers—

ILLO ( hurrying out ).

God in heaven be praised!

WALLENST.

It is his evil genius and mine .

Our evil genius! It chastises him

Through me, the instrument of his ambition;

And I expect no less than that Revenge

E'en now is whetting for my breast the poinard.

Who sows the serpent's teeth, let him not hope

To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime

Has, in the moment of its perpetration,

Its own avenging angel—dark misgiving,

An ominous sinking at the inmost heart.

He can no longer trust me. Then no longer

Can I retreat—so come that which must come.

Still destiny preserves its due relations,

The heart within us is its absolute

Vicegerent.

[ To TERZKY .]

To my state-cabinet.—Myself will speak to

The couriers.—And dispatch immediately

A servant for Octavio Piccolomini.

[_To the _COUNTESS, who cannot conceal her triumph .]

No exultation! woman, triumph not!

For jealous are the Powers of Destiny.

Joy premature, and shouts ere victory,

Encroach upon their rights and privileges.

We sow the seed, and they the growth determine.

[ While he is making his exit the curtain drops .]

Scene, as in the preceding Act

WALLENSTEIN, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI

WALLENSTEIN ( coming forward in conversation ).

He sends me word from Linz that he lies sick;

But I have sure intelligence that he

Secretes himself at Frauenberg with Gallas.

Secure them both, and send them to me hither.

Remember, thou takest on thee the command

Of those same Spanish regiments,—constantly

Make preparation, and be never ready;

And if they urge thee to draw out against me,

Still answer YES, and stand as thou wert fetter'd;

I know that it is doing thee a service

To keep thee out of action in this business.

Thou lovest to linger on in fair appearances;

Steps of extremity are not thy province;

Therefore have I sought out this part for thee.

Thou wilt this time be of most service to me

By thy inertness. The mean time, if fortune

Declare itself on my side, thou wilt know

What is to do.

Enter MAX PICCOLOMINI

This night must thou be off, take my own horses

Him here I keep with me—make short farewell—

Trust me, I think, we all shall meet again

In joy and thriving fortunes.

OCTAVIO ( to his son ).

Yet ere I go.

WALLENSTEIN, MAX PICCOLOMINI

MAX. ( advances to him ).

My General?

WALLENSTEIN.

Thou stylest thyself the Emperor's officer.

MAX.

Then thou wilt leave the army, General?

WALLENST.

I have renounced the service of the Emperor.

MAX.

And thou wilt leave the army?

WALLENSTEIN.

To bind it nearer still and faster to me.

[ He seats himself .]

Yes, Max, I have delay'd to open it to thee,

Even till the hour of acting 'gins to strike.

Youth's fortunate feeling doth seize easily

The absolute right, yea, and a joy it is

To exercise the single apprehension

Where the sums square in proof;

But where it happens that of two sure evils

One must be taken, where the heart not wholly

Brings itself back from out the strife of duties,

There 'tis a blessing to have no election,

And blank necessity is grace and favor.

–This is now present: do not look behind thee,—

It can no more avail thee. Look thou forwards!

Think not! judge not! prepare thyself to act!

The Court—it hath determined on my ruin,

Therefore I will be beforehand with them.

We'll join the Swedes—right gallant fellows are they,

And our good friends.

[ He stops himself, expecting PICCOLOMINI's answer .]

I have ta'en thee by surprise. Answer me not.

I grant thee time to recollect thyself.

[ He rises, retires at the back of the stage . MAX remains for a long time motionless, in a trance of excessive anguish. At his first motion WALLENSTEIN returns, and places himself before him .]

MAX.

My General, this day thou makest me

Of age to speak in my own right and person,

For till this day I have been spared the trouble

To find out my own road. Thee have I follow'd

With most implicit unconditional faith,

Sure of the right path if I follow'd thee.

Today, for the first time, dost thou refer

Me to myself, and forcest me to make

Election between thee and my own heart.

WALLENST.

Soft cradled thee thy Fortune till today;

Thy duties thou couldst exercise in sport,

Indulge all lovely instincts, act forever

With undivided heart. It can remain

No longer thus. Like enemies, the roads

Start from each other. Duties strive with duties.

Thou must needs choose thy party in the war

Which is now kindling 'twixt thy friend and him

Who is thy Emperor.

MAX.

War is as frightful as heaven's pestilence,

Yet it is good. Is it heaven's will as that is?

Is that a good war, which against the Emperor

Thou wagest with the Emperor's own army?

O God of heaven! what a change is this!

Beseems it me to offer such persuasion

To thee, who like the fix'd star of the pole

Wert all I gazed at on life's trackless ocean?

O! what a rent thou makest in my heart!

The ingrain'd instinct of old reverence,

The holy habit of obediency,

Must I pluck live asunder from thy name?

Nay, do not turn thy countenance upon me—

It always was as a god looking upon me!

Duke Wallenstein, its power has not departed.

The senses still are in thy bonds, although,