Wallenstein/The Piccolomini/A5S2
SCENE II.
Wallenstein, Max. Piccolomini.
MAX.. (advances to him.) My General!
WALLENSTEIN. That am I no longer, if Thou styl'st thyself the Emperor's officer.
MAX..Then thou wilt leave the army, General?
WALLENSTEIN. I have renounc'd the service of the Emperor.
MAX..And thou wilt leave the army?
WALLENSTEIN. Rather hope I 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 easilyThe absolute right, yea, and a joy it isTo exercise the single apprehensionWhere the sums square in proof;But where it happens, that of two sure evilsOne must be taken, where the heart not whollyBrings itself back from out the strife of duties,There 'tis a blessing to have no election,And blank necessity is grace and favour.—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 determin'd on my ruin,Therefore I will to 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, and retires at the back of the stage. Max. remains for a long time motionlees, 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.To day, for the first time, dost thou referMe to myself, and forced me to makeElection between thee and my own heart.
WALLENSTEIN. Soft cradled thee thy Fortune till to day;Thy duties thou couldst exercise in sport,Indulge all lovely instincts, act for everWith undivided heart. It can remainNo longer thus. Like enemies, the roadsStart from each other. Duties strive with duties.Thou must needs chuse thy party in the warWhich is now kindling 'twixt thy friend and himWho 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 EmperorThou wagest with the Emperor's own army?O God of heaven! what a change is this.Beseems it me to offer such persuasionTo thee, who like the fix'd star of the poleWert all, I gaz'd at, on life's trackless ocean?O! what a rent thou makest in my heart!The ingrained 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 a god looking at me!Duke Wallenstein, its power is 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 noble soul within thee,Knows not of this unblest, unlucky doing.Thy will is chaste, it is thy fancy onlyWhich hath polluted thee—and innocence,It will not let itself be driv'n awayFrom that world-awing aspect. Thou wilt not,Thou canst not, end in this. It would reduceAll human creatures to disloyaltyAgainst the nobleness of their own nature.'Twill justify the vulgar misbelief,Which holdeth nothing noble in free will,And trusts itself to impotence aloneMade powerful only in an unknown power.
WALLENSTEIN. The world will judge me sternly, I expect it.Already have I said to my own selfAll thou canst say to me. Who but avoidsTh' extreme,—can he by going round avoid it?But here there is no choice. Yes—I must useOr 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 thoseCheap souls, to whom their honor, their good nameIs their poor saving, their last worthless Keep,Which having stak'd and lost, they stake themselvesIn the mad rage of gaming. Thou art rich,And glorious; with an unpolluted heartThou 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 wePerform together yet. And if we onlyStand on the height with dignity, 'tis soonForgotten, 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 divineSend 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 propertyIs to be struggled for—all there is general.The jewel, the all-valued gold we winFrom the deceiving Powers, deprav'd 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 earthThat e'er retir'd unsullied from their service.
MAX.Whate'er is human, to the human beingDo I allow—and to the vehementAnd striving spirit readily I pardonTh' 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 postBy 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 wordIs spoken out———Not to the traitor can I yield a pardon.That is no mere excess! that is no errorOf human nature—that is wholly diff'rent,O that is black, black as the pit of hell!(Wallenstein betrays a sudden agitation.)Thou canst not hear it nam'd, 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 th' Emperor.He knows thee not. But I do know thee. HeShall see thee, Duke! with my unclouded eye,And I bring back his confidence to thee.
WALLENSTEIN.It is too late. Thou know'st not what has happen'd.
MAX.Were it too late, and were gone so far,That a crime only could prevent thy fall,Then—fall! fall honourably, even as thou stood'st.Lose the command. Go from the stage of war.Thou canst with splendour do it—do it tooWith innocence. Thou hast liv'd much for others.At length live thou for thy own self. I follow thee.My destiny I never part from thine.
WALLENSTEIN.It is too late! Even now, while thou art losingThy words, one after the other are the mile-stonesLeft fast behind by my post couriers,Who bear the order on to Prague and Egra. (Max. stands as convuls'd, with a gesture and countenance expressing the most intense anguish.)Yield thyself to it. We act as we are forc'd.I cannot give assent to my own shameAnd 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 worseThan did fam'd Cæsar at the Rubicon,When he the legions led against his country,The which his country had deliver'd 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 his 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 Tertsky enters.)