Loe raamatut: «The Death of Wallenstein», lehekülg 9

SCENE II

BUTLER, CAPTAIN DEVEREUX, and MACDONALD.

MACDONALD

 
  Here we are, general.
 

DEVEREUX

 
              What's to be the watchword?
 

BUTLER

 
  Long live the emperor!
 

BOTH (recoiling)

 
              How?
 

BUTLER

 
                 Live the house of Austria.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Have we not sworn fidelity to Friedland?
 

MACDONALD

 
  Have we not marched to this place to protect him?
 

BUTLER

 
  Protect a traitor and his country's enemy?
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Why, yes! in his name you administered
  Our oath.
 

MACDONALD

 
        And followed him yourself to Egra.
 

BUTLER

 
  I did it the more surely to destroy him.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  So then!
 

MACDONALD

 
       An altered case!
 

BUTLER (to DEVEREUX)

 
                Thou wretched man
  So easily leavest thou thy oath and colors?
 

DEVEREUX

 
  The devil! I but followed your example;
  If you could prove a villain, why not we?
 

MACDONALD

 
  We've naught to do with thinking – that's your business.
  You are our general, and give out the orders;
  We follow you, though the track lead to hell.
 

BUTLER (appeased)

 
  Good, then! we know each other.
 

MACDONALD

 
                   I should hope so.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Soldiers of fortune are we – who bids most
  He has us.
 

MACDONALD

 
        'Tis e'en so!
 

BUTLER

 
                Well, for the present
  You must remain honest and faithful soldiers.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  We wish no other.
 

BUTLER

 
            Ay, and make your fortunes.
 

MACDONALD

 
  That is still better.
 

BUTLER

 
              Listen!
 

BOTH

 
                  We attend.
 

BUTLER

 
  It is the emperor's will and ordinance
  To seize the person of the Prince-Duke Friedland
  Alive or dead.
 

DEVEREUX

 
          It runs so in the letter.
 

MACDONALD

 
  Alive or dead – these were the very words.
 

BUTLER

 
  And he shall be rewarded from the state
  In land and gold who proffers aid thereto.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Ay! that sounds well. The words sound always well
  That travel hither from the court. Yes! yes!
  We know already what court-words import.
  A golden chain perhaps in sign of favor,
  Or an old charger, or a parchment-patent,
  And such like. The prince-duke pays better.
 

MACDONALD

 
                         Yes,
  The duke's a splendid paymaster.
 

BUTLER

 
                   All over
  With that, my friends. His lucky stars are set.
 

MACDONALD

 
  And is that certain?
 

BUTLER

 
             You have my word for it.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  His lucky fortune's all passed by?
 

BUTLER

 
                    Forever.
  He is as poor as we.
 

MACDONALD

 
             As poor as we?
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Macdonald, we'll desert him.
 

BUTLER

 
                 We'll desert him?
  Full twenty thousand have done that already;
  We must do more, my countrymen! In short —
  We – we must kill him.
 

BOTH (starting back)

 
              Kill him!
 

BUTLER

 
                   Yes, must kill him;
  And for that purpose have I chosen you.
 

BOTH

 
                       Us!
 

BUTLER

 
  You, Captain Devereux, and thee, Macdonald.
 

DEVEREUX (after a pause)

 
  Choose you some other.
 

BUTLER

 
              What! art dastardly?
  Thou, with full thirty lives to answer for —
  Thou conscientious of a sudden?
 

DEVEREUX

 
                   Nay
  To assassinate our lord and general —
 

MACDONALD

 
  To whom we swore a soldier's oath —
 

BUTLER

 
                     The oath
  Is null, for Friedland is a traitor.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  No, no! it is too bad!
 

MACDONALD

 
              Yes, by my soul!
  It is too bad. One has a conscience too —
 

DEVEREUX

 
  If it were not our chieftain, who so long
  Has issued the commands, and claimed our duty —
 

BUTLER

 
  Is that the objection?
 

DEVEREUX

 
              Were it my own father,
  And the emperor's service should demand it of me,
  It might be done perhaps – but we are soldiers,
  And to assassinate our chief commander,
  That is a sin, a foul abomination,
  From which no monk or confessor absolves us.
 

BUTLER

 
  I am your pope, and give you absolution.
  Determine quickly!
 

DEVEREUX

 
            'Twill not do.
 

MACDONALD

 
                    'Twont do!
 

BUTLER

 
  Well, off then! and – send Pestalutz to me.
 

DEVEREUX (hesitates)

 
  The Pestalutz —
 

MACDONALD

 
           What may you want with him?
 

BUTLER

 
  If you reject it, we can find enough —
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Nay, if he must fall, we may earn the bounty
  As well as any other. What think you,
  Brother Macdonald?
 

MACDONALD

 
            Why, if he must fall,
  And will fall, and it can't be otherwise,
  One would not give place to this Pestalutz.
 

DEVEREUX (after some reflection)

 
  When do you purpose he should fall?
 

BUTLER

 
                     This night.
  To-morrow will the Swedes be at our gates.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  You take upon you all the consequences?
 

BUTLER

 
  I take the whole upon me.
 

DEVEREUX

 
                And it is
  The emperor's will, his express absolute will?
  For we have instances that folks may like
  The murder, and yet hang the murderer.
 

BUTLER

 
  The manifesto says – "alive or dead."
  Alive – 'tis not possible – you see it is not.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Well, dead then! dead! But how can we come at him.
  The town is filled with Terzky's soldiery.
 

MACDONALD

 
  Ay! and then Terzky still remains, and Illo —
 

BUTLER

 
  With these you shall begin – you understand me?
 

DEVEREUX

 
  How! And must they too perish?
 

BUTLER

 
                   They the first.
 

MACDONALD

 
  Hear, Devereux! A bloody evening this.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Have you a man for that? Commission me —
 

BUTLER

 
  'Tis given in trust to Major Geraldin;
  This is a carnival night, and there's a feast
  Given at the castle – there we shall surprise them,
  And hew them down. The Pestalutz and Lesley
  Have that commission. Soon as that is finished —
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Hear, general! It will be all one to you —
  Hark ye, let me exchange with Geraldin.
 

BUTLER

 
  'Twill be the lesser danger with the duke.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Danger! The devil! What do you think me, general,
  'Tis the duke's eye, and not his sword, I fear.
 

BUTLER

 
  What can his eye do to thee?
 

DEVEREUX

 
                 Death and hell!
  Thou knowest that I'm no milksop, general!
  But 'tis not eight days since the duke did send me
  Twenty gold pieces for this good warm coat
  Which I have on! and then for him to see me
  Standing before him with the pike, his murderer.
  That eye of his looking upon this coat —
  Why – why – the devil fetch me! I'm no milksop!
 

BUTLER

 
  The duke presented thee this good warm coat,
  And thou, a needy wight, hast pangs of conscience
  To run him through the body in return,
  A coat that is far better and far warmer
  Did the emperor give to him, the prince's mantle.
  How doth he thank the emperor? With revolt
  And treason.
 

DEVEREUX

 
         That is true. The devil take
  Such thankers! I'll despatch him.
 

BUTLER

 
                    And would'st quiet
  Thy conscience, thou hast naught to do but simply
  Pull off the coat; so canst thou do the deed
  With light heart and good spirits.
 

DEVEREUX

 
                    You are right,
  That did not strike me. I'll pull off the coat —
  So there's an end of it.
 

MACDONALD

 
               Yes, but there's another
  Point to be thought of.
 

BUTLER

 
               And what's that, Macdonald?
 

MACDONALD

 
  What avails sword or dagger against him?
  He is not to be wounded – he is —
 

BUTLER (starting up)

 
                   What!
 

MACDONALD

 
  Safe against shot, and stab, and flash! Hard frozen.
  Secured and warranted by the black art
  His body is impenetrable, I tell you.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  In Ingolstadt there was just such another:
  His whole skin was the same as steel; at last
  We were obliged to beat him down with gunstocks.
 

MACDONALD

 
  Hear what I'll do.
 

DEVEREUX

 
            Well.
 

MACDONALD

 
                In the cloister here
  There's a Dominican, my countryman.
  I'll make him dip my sword and pike for me
  In holy water, and say over them
  One of his strongest blessings. That's probatum!
  Nothing can stand 'gainst that.
 

BUTLER

 
                   So do, Macdonald!
  But now go and select from out the regiment
  Twenty or thirty able-bodied fellows,
  And let them take the oaths to the emperor.
  Then when it strikes eleven, when the first rounds
  Are passed, conduct them silently as may be
  To the house. I will myself be not far off.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  But how do we get through Hartschier and Gordon,
  That stand on guard there in the inner chamber?
 

BUTLER

 
  I have made myself acquainted with the place,
  I lead you through a back door that's defended
  By one man only. Me my rank and office
  Give access to the duke at every hour.
  I'll go before you – with one poinard-stroke
  Cut Hartschier's windpipe, and make way for you.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  And when we are there, by what means shall we gain
  The duke's bed-chamber, without his alarming
  The servants of the court? for he has here
  A numerous company of followers.
 

BUTLER

 
  The attendants fill the right wing: he hates bustle,
  And lodges in the left wing quite alone.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Were it well over – hey, Macdonald! I
  Feel queerly on the occasion, devil knows.
 

MACDONALD

 
  And I, too. 'Tis too great a personage.
  People will hold us for a brace of villains.
 

BUTLER

 
  In plenty, honor, splendor – you may safely
  Laugh at the people's babble.
 

DEVEREUX

 
                  If the business
  Squares with one's honor – if that be quite certain.
 

BUTLER

 
  Set your hearts quite at ease. Ye save for Ferdinand
  His crown and empire. The reward can be
  No small one.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  And 'tis his purpose to dethrone the emperor?
 

BUTLER

 
  Yes! Yes! to rob him of his crown and life.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  And must he fall by the executioner's hands,
  Should we deliver him up to the emperor
  Alive?
 

BUTLER

 
      It were his certain destiny.
 

DEVEREUX

 
  Well! Well! Come then, Macdonald, he shall not
  Lie long in pain.
 

[Exeunt BUTLER through one door, MACDONALD and DEVEREUX through the other.

SCENE III

A saloon, terminated by a gallery, which extends far into the background.

WALLENSTIN sitting at a table. The SWEDISH CAPTAIN standing before him.

WALLENSTEIN

 
  Commend me to your lord. I sympathize
  In his good fortune; and if you have seen me
  Deficient in the expressions of that joy,
  Which such a victory might well demand,
  Attribute it to no lack of good-will,
  For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell,
  And for your trouble take my thanks. To-morrow
  The citadel shall be surrendered to you
  On your arrival.
 

[The SWEDISH CAPTAIN retires. WALLENSTEIN sits lost in thought, his eyes fixed vacantly, and his head sustained by his hand. The COUNTESS TERZKY enters, stands before him for awhile, unobserved by him; at length he starts, sees her and recollects himself.

WALLENSTEIN

 
  Comest thou from her? Is she restored? How is she?
 

COUNTESS

 
  My sister tells me she was more collected
  After her conversation with the Swede.
  She has now retired to rest.
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
                 The pang will soften
  She will shed tears.
 

COUNTESS

 
             I find thee altered, too,
  My brother! After such a victory
  I had expected to have found in thee
  A cheerful spirit. Oh, remain thou firm!
  Sustain, uphold us! For our light thou art,
  Our sun.
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
       Be quiet. I ail nothing. Where's
  Thy husband?
 

COUNTESS

 
         At a banquet – he and Illo.
 

WALLENSTEIN (rises and strides across the saloon)

 
  The night's far spent. Betake thee to thy chamber.
 

COUNTESS

 
  Bid me not go, oh, let me stay with thee!
 

WALLENSTEIN (moves to the window)

 
  There is a busy motion in the heaven,
  The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower,
  Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle¹¹ of the moon,
  Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light.
  No form of star is visible! That one
  White stain of light, that single glimmering yonder,
  Is from Cassiopeia, and therein
  Is Jupiter. (A pause.) But now
  The blackness of the troubled element hides him!
 

[He sinks into profound melancholy, and looks vacantly into the distance.

COUNTESS (looks on him mournfully, then grasps his hand)

 
  What art thou brooding on?
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
                Methinks
  If I but saw him, 'twould be well with me.
  He is the star of my nativity,
  And often marvellously hath his aspect
  Shot strength into my heart.
 

COUNTESS

 
  Thou'lt see him again.
 

WALLENSTEIN (remains for awhile with absent mind, then assumes a livelier manner, and turning suddenly to the COUNTESS)

 
  See him again? Oh, never, never again!
 

COUNTESS

 
  How?
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
     He is gone – is dust.
 

COUNTESS

 
                Whom meanest thou, then?
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
  He, the more fortunate! yea, he hath finished!
  For him there is no longer any future,
  His life is bright – bright without spot it was,
  And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour
  Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap,
  Far off is he, above desire and fear;
  No more submitted to the change and chance
  Of the unsteady planets. Oh, 'tis well
  With him! but who knows what the coming hour
  Veiled in thick darkness brings us?
 

COUNTESS

 
  Thou speakest of Piccolomini. What was his death?
  The courier had just left thee as I came.
 

[WALLENSTEIN by a motion of his hand makes signs to her to be silent.

 
  Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view,
  Let us look forward into sunny days,
  Welcome with joyous heart the victory,
  Forget what it has cost thee. Not to-day,
  For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead;
  To thee he died when first he parted from thee.
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
  This anguish will be wearied down¹² , I know;
  What pang is permanent with man? From the highest,
  As from the vilest thing of every day,
  He learns to wean himself: for the strong hours
  Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost
  In him. The bloom is vanished from my life,
  For oh, he stood beside me, like my youth,
  Transformed for me the real to a dream,
  Clothing the palpable and the familiar
  With golden exhalations of the dawn,
  Whatever fortunes wait my future toils,
  The beautiful is vanished – and returns not.
 

COUNTESS

 
  Oh, be not treacherous to thy own power.
  Thy heart is rich enough to vivify
  Itself. Thou lovest and prizest virtues in him,
  The which thyself didst plant, thyself unfold.
 

WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the door)

 
  Who interrupts us now at this late hour?
  It is the governor. He brings the keys
  Of the citadel. 'Tis midnight. Leave me, sister!
 

COUNTESS

 
  Oh, 'tis so hard to me this night to leave thee;
  A boding fear possesses me!
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
                 Fear! Wherefore?
 

COUNTESS

 
  Shouldst thou depart this night, and we at waking
  Never more find thee!
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
              Fancies!
 

COUNTESS

 
                   Oh, my soul
  Has long been weighed down by these dark forebodings,
  And if I combat and repel them waking,
  They still crush down upon my heart in dreams,
  I saw thee, yesternight with thy first wife
  Sit at a banquet, gorgeously attired.
 

WALLENSTHIN

 
  This was a dream of favorable omen,
  That marriage being the founder of my fortunes.
 

COUNTESS

 
  To-day I dreamed that I was seeking thee
  In thy own chamber. As I entered, lo!
  It was no more a chamber: the Chartreuse
  At Gitschin 'twas, which thou thyself hast founded,
  And where it is thy will that thou shouldst be
  Interred.
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
        Thy soul is busy with these thoughts.
 

COUNTESS

 
  What! dost thou not believe that oft in dreams
  A voice of warning speaks prophetic to us?
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
  There is no doubt that there exist such voices,
  Yet I would not call them
  Voices of warning that announce to us
  Only the inevitable. As the sun,
  Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image
  In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits
  Of great events stride on before the events,
  And in to-day already walks to-morrow.
  That which we read of the fourth Henry's death
  Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale
  Of my own future destiny. The king
  Felt in his breast the phantom of the knife
  Long ere Ravaillac armed himself therewith.
  His quiet mind forsook him; the phantasma
  Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth
  Into the open air; like funeral knells
  Sounded that coronation festival;
  And still with boding sense he heard the tread
  Of those feet that even then were seeking him
  Throughout the streets of Paris.
 

COUNTESS

 
                   And to thee
  The voice within thy soul bodes nothing?
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
                       Nothing.
  Be wholly tranquil.
 

COUNTESS

 
             And another time
  I hastened after thee, and thou rann'st from me
  Through a long suite, through many a spacious hall.
  There seemed no end of it; doors creaked and clapped;
  I followed panting, but could not overtake thee;
  When on a sudden did I feel myself
  Grasped from behind, – the hand was cold that grasped me;
  'Twas thou, and thou didst kiss me, and there seemed
  A crimson covering to envelop us.
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
  That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber.
 

COUNTESS (gazing on him)

 
  If it should come to that – if I should see thee,
  Who standest now before me in the fulness
  Of life —
 

[She falls on his breast and weeps.

WALLENSTEIN

 
  The emperor's proclamation weighs upon thee —
  Alphabets wound not – and he finds no hands.
 

COUNTESS

 
  If he should find them, my resolve is taken —
  I bear about me my support and refuge.
 

[Exit COUNTESS.

SCENE IV

WALLENSTEIN, GORDON.

WALLENSTEIN

 
  All quiet in the town?
 

GORDON

 
              The town is quiet.
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
  I hear a boisterous music! and the castle
  Is lighted up. Who are the revellers?
 

GORDON

 
  There is a banquet given at the castle
  To the Count Terzky and Field-Marshal Illo.
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
  In honor of the victory – this tribe
  Can show their joy in nothing else but feasting.
 

[Rings. The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER enters.

 
  Unrobe me. I will lay me down to sleep.
 

[WALLENSTEIN takes the keys from GORDON.

 
  So we are guarded from all enemies,
  And shut in with sure friends.
  For all must cheat me, or a face like this
 

[Fixing his eyes on GORDON.

 
  Was ne'er a hypocrite's mask.
 

[The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER takes off his mantle, collar, and scarf.

WALLENSTEIN

 
  Take care – what is that?
 

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER

 
               The golden chain is snapped in two.
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
  Well, it has lasted long enough. Here – give it.
     [He takes and looks at the chain.
  'Twas the first present of the emperor.
  He hung it round me in the war of Friule,
  He being then archduke; and I have worn it
  Till now from habit —
  From superstition, if you will. Belike,
  It was to be a talisman to me;
  And while I wore it on my neck in faith,
  It was to chain to me all my life-long
  The volatile fortune, whose first pledge it was.
  Well, be it so! Henceforward a new fortune
  Must spring up for me; for the potency
  Of this charm is dissolved.
 

[GROOM OF THE CHAMBER retires with the vestments. WALLENSTEIN rises, takes a stride across the room, and stands at last before GORDON in a posture of meditation.

 
  How the old time returns upon me! I
  Behold myself once more at Burgau, where
  We two were pages of the court together.
  We oftentimes disputed: thy intention
  Was ever good; but thou were wont to play
  The moralist and preacher, and wouldst rail at me —
  That I strove after things too high for me,
  Giving my faith to bold, unlawful dreams,
  And still extol to me the golden mean.
  Thy wisdom hath been proved a thriftless friend
  To thy own self. See, it has made thee early
  A superannuated man, and (but
  That my munificent stars will intervene)
  Would let thee in some miserable corner
  Go out like an untended lamp.
 

GORDON

 
                  My prince
  With light heart the poor fisher moors his boat,
  And watches from the shore the lofty ship
  Stranded amid the storm.
 

WALLENSTEIN

 
               Art thou already
  In harbor, then, old man? Well! I am not.
  The unconquered spirit drives me o'er life's billows;
  My planks still firm, my canvas swelling proudly.
  Hope is my goddess still, and youth my inmate;
  And while we stand thus front to front almost,
  I might presume to say, that the swift years
  Have passed by powerless o'er my unblanched hair.
 

[He moves with long strides across the saloon, and remains on the opposite side over against GORDON.

 
  Who now persists in calling fortune false?
  To me she has proved faithful; with fond love
  Took me from out the common ranks of men,
  And like a mother goddess, with strong arm
  Carried me swiftly up the steps of life.
  Nothing is common in my destiny,
  Nor in the furrows of my hand. Who dares
  Interpret then my life for me as 'twere
  One of the undistinguishable many?
  True, in this present moment I appear
  Fallen low indeed; but I shall rise again.
  The high flood will soon follow on this ebb;
  The fountain of my fortune, which now stops,
  Repressed and bound by some malicious star,
  Will soon in joy play forth from all its pipes.
 

GORDON

 
  And yet remember I the good old proverb,
  "Let the night come before we praise the day."
  I would be slow from long-continued fortune
  To gather hope: for hope is the companion
  Given to the unfortunate by pitying heaven.
  Fear hovers round the head of prosperous men,
  For still unsteady are the scales of fate.
 

WALLENSTEIN (smiling)

 
  I hear the very Gordon that of old
  Was wont to preach, now once more preaching;
  I know well, that all sublunary things
  Are still the vassals of vicissitude.
  The unpropitious gods demand their tribute.
  This long ago the ancient pagans knew
  And therefore of their own accord they offered
  To themselves injuries, so to atone
  The jealousy of their divinities
  And human sacrifices bled to Typhon.
 

[After a pause, serious, and in a more subdued manner.

 
  I too have sacrificed to him – for me
  There fell the dearest friend, and through my fault
  He fell! No joy from favorable fortune
  Can overweigh the anguish of this stroke.
  The envy of my destiny is glutted:
  Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightning
  Was drawn off which would else have shattered me.