The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries is a Webnovel created by Various.
This lightnovel is currently completed.
[_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 that the name?
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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d looking upon me!
Duke Wallenstein, its power has not departed.
The senses still are in thy bonds, although, Bleeding, the soul hath freed itself.
WALLENSTEIN.
Max, hear me.
MAX.
O! do it not, I pray thee, do it not!
There is a pure and n.o.ble soul within thee Knows not of this unblest, unlucky doing.
Thy will is chaste, it is thy fancy only Which hath polluted thee; and innocence– It will not let itself be driven away From that world-awing aspect. Thou wilt not, Thou canst not, end in this. It would reduce All human creatures to disloyalty Against the n.o.bleness of their own nature.
‘Twill justify the vulgar misbelief Which holdeth nothing n.o.ble in free will And trusts itself to impotence alone Made powerful only in an unknown power.
WALLENST.
The world will judge me sternly, I expect it.
Already have I said to my own self All thou canst say to me. Who but avoids The extreme, can he by going round avoid it?
But here there is no choice. Yes–I must use Or suffer violence–so stands the case; There remains nothing possible but that.
MAX.
O that is never possible for thee!
‘Tis the last desperate resource of those Cheap souls to whom their honor, their good name Is their poor _saving_, their last worthless _keep_, Which, having staked and lost, they stake themselves In the mad rage of gaming. Thou art rich And glorious; with an unpolluted heart Thou canst make conquest of whate’er seems highest!
But he, who once hath acted infamy, Does nothing more in this world.
WALLENSTEIN (_grasps his hand_).
Calmly, Max!
Much that is great and excellent will we Perform together yet. And if we only Stand on the height with dignity, ’tis soon Forgotten, Max, by what road we ascended.
Believe me, many a crown shines spotless now That yet was deeply sullied in the winning.
To the evil spirit doth the earth belong, Not to the good. All that the powers divine Send from above are universal blessings, Their light rejoices us, their air refreshes, But never yet was man enrich’d by them In their eternal realm no _property_ Is to be struggled for–all there is general The jewel, the all-valued gold we win From the deceiving Powers, depraved in nature, That dwell beneath the day and blessed sun-light.
Not without sacrifices are they render’d Propitious, and there lives no soul on earth That e’er retired unsullied from their service.
MAX.
Whate’er is human, to the human being Do I allow–and to the vehement And striving spirit readily I pardon The excess of action; but to thee, my General, Above _all_ others make I large concession.
For thou must move a world, and be the master– He kills thee who condemns thee to inaction.
So be it then! maintain thee in thy post By violence. Resist the Emperor, And, if it must be, force with force repel: I will not praise it, yet I can forgive it.
But not–not to the _traitor_–yes!–the word Is spoken out– Not to the traitor can I yield a pardon.
That is no mere excess! that is no error Of human nature–that is wholly different; O that is black, black as the pit of h.e.l.l!
[WALLENSTEIN _betrays a sudden agitation_.]
Thou canst not hear it _named_, and wilt thou _do_ it?
O, turn back to thy duty! That thou canst I hold it certain. Send me to Vienna: I’ll make thy peace for thee with the Emperor.
He knows thee not. But I do know thee. He Shall see thee, Duke, with my unclouded eye, And I bring back his confidence to thee.
WALLENST.
It is too late! Thou knowest not what has happen’d.
MAX.
Were it too late, and were things gone so far, That a crime only could prevent thy fall, Then–fall! fall honorably, even as thou stood’st!
Lose the command. Go from the stage of war, Thou canst with splendor do it–do it too With innocence. Thou hast lived much for others, At length live thou for thy own self. I follow thee; My destiny I never part from thine.
WALLENST.
It is too late! Even now, while thou art losing Thy words, one after the other are the milestones Left fast behind by my post couriers Who bear the order on to Prague and Egra.
[MAX _stands as convulsed, with a gesture and_ _countenance expressing the most intense_ _anguish_.]
Yield thyself to it. We act as we are forced.
_I_ cannot give a.s.sent to my own shame And ruin. _Thou_–no–thou canst not forsake me!
So let us do what must be done, with dignity, With a firm step. What am I doing worse Than did famed Caesar at the Rubicon, When he the legions led against his country, The which his country had delivered to him?
Had he thrown down the sword he had been lost, As I were if I but disarm’d myself.
I trace out something in me of this spirit; Give me his luck, _that other thing_ I’ll bear.
[MAX _quits him abruptly_. WALLENSTEIN _startled and overpowered, continues looking after him and is still in this posture when_ TERZKY _enters_.]
SCENE III