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The Piccolomini (play)

Page 7

by Friedrich Schiller

ILLO.

  He give up his old plans! I'll tell you, friend!

  His soul is occupied with nothing else,

  Even in his sleep-they are his thoughts, his dreams,

  That day by day he questions for this purpose

  The motions of the planets--

  TERZKY.

  Ah! you know

  This night, that is now coming, he with Seni,

  Shuts himself up in the astrological tower

  To make joint observations-for I hear

  It is to be a night of weight and crisis;

  And something great, and of long expectation,

  Takes place in heaven.

  ILLO.

  O that it might take place

  On earth! The generals are full of zeal,

  And would with ease be led to anything

  Rather than lose their chief. Observe, too, that

  We have at last a fair excuse before us

  To form a close alliance 'gainst the court,

  Yet innocent its title, bearing simply

  That we support him only in command.

  But in the ardor of pursuit thou knowest

  Men soon forget the goal from which they started.

  The object I've in view is that the prince

  Shall either find them, or believe them ready

  For every hazard. Opportunity

  Will tempt him on. Be the great step once taken,

  Which at Vienna's court can ne'er be pardoned,

  The force of circumstances will lead him onward

  The farther still and farther. 'Tis the choice

  That makes him undecisive-come but need,

  And all his powers and wisdom will come with it.

  TERZKY.

  'Tis this alone the enemy awaits

  To change their chief and join their force with ours.

  ILLO.

  Come! be we bold and make despatch. The work

  In this next day or two must thrive and grow

  More than it has for years. And let but only

  Things first turn up auspicious here below-

  Mark what I say-the right stars, too, will show themselves.

  Come to the generals. All is in the glow,

  And must be beaten while 'tis malleable.

  TERZKY.

  Do you go thither, Illo? I must stay

  And wait here for the Countess Terzky. Know

  That we, too, are not idle. Break one string,

  A second is in readiness.

  ILLO.

  Yes! yes!

  I saw your lady smile with such sly meaning.

  What's in the wind?

  TERZKY.

  A secret. Hush! she comes.

  [Exit ILLO.

  SCENE II.

  The COUNTESS steps out from a closet.

  COUNT and COUNTESS TERZKY.

  TERZKY.

  Well-is she coming? I can keep him back

  No longer.

  COUNTESS.

  She will be here instantly,

  You only send him.

  TERZKY.

  I am not quite certain,

  I must confess it, countess, whether or not

  We are earning the duke's thanks hereby. You know

  No ray has broke out from him on this point.

  You have o'erruled me, and yourself know best

  How far you dare proceed.

  COUNTESS.

  I take it on me.

  [Talking to herself while she is advancing.

  Here's no heed of full powers and commissions;

  My cloudy duke! we understand each other-

  And without words. What could I not unriddle,

  Wherefore the daughter should be sent for hither,

  Why first he, and no other should be chosen

  To fetch her hither? This sham of betrothing her

  To a bridegroom [9], whom no one knows-No! no!

  This may blind others! I see through thee, brother!

  But it beseems thee not to draw a card

  At such a game. Not yet! It all remains

  Mutely delivered up to my finessing.

  Well-thou shalt not have been deceived, Duke Friedland,

  In her who is thy sister.

  SERVANT (enters).

  The commanders!

  [Exit.

  TERZKY (to the COUNTESS).

  Take care you heat his fancy and affections-

  Possess him with a reverie, and send him,

  Absent and dreaming to the banquet; that

  He may not boggle at the signature.

  COUNTESS.

  Take care of your guests! Go, send him hither.

  TERZKY.

  All rests upon his undersigning.

  COUNTESS (interrupting him).

  Go to your guests! Go--

  ILLO (comes back).

  Where art staying, Terzky?

  The house is full, and all expecting you.

  TERZKY.

  Instantly! instantly!

  [To the COUNTESS.

  And let him not

  Stay here too long. It might awake suspicion

  In the old man--

  COUNTESS.

  A truce with your precautions!

  [Exeunt TERZKY and ILLO.

  SCENE III.

  COUNTESS, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

  MAX. (peeping in on the stage slyly).

  Aunt Terzky! may I venture?

  [Advances to the middle of the stage, and looks around

  him with uneasiness.

  She's not here!

  Where is she?

  COUNTESS.

  Look but somewhat narrowly

  In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie

  Concealed behind that screen.

  MAX.

  There lie her gloves!

  [Snatches at them, but the COUNTESS takes them herself.

  You unkind lady! You refuse me this,

  You make it an amusement to torment me.

  COUNTESS.

  And this the thanks you give me for my trouble?

  MAX.

  O, if you felt the oppression at my heart!

  Since we've been here, so to constrain myself

  With such poor stealth to hazard words and glances.

  These, these are not my habits!

  COUNTESS.

  You have still

  Many new habits to acquire, young friend!

  But on this proof of your obedient temper

  I must continue to insist; and only

  On this condition can I play the agent

  For your concerns.

  MAX.

  But wherefore comes she not?

  Where is she?

  COUNTESS.

  Into my hands you must place it

  Whole and entire. Whom could you find, indeed,

  More zealously affected to your interest?

  No soul on earth must know it-not your father;

  He must not, above all.

  MAX.

  Alas! what danger?

  Here is no face on which I might concentre

  All the enraptured soul stirs up within me.

  O lady! tell me, is all changed around me?

  Or is it only I?

  I find myself,

  As among strangers! Not a trace is left

  Of all my former wishes, former joys.

  Where has it vanished to? There was a time

  When even, methought, with such a world as this,

  I was not discontented. Now how flat!

  How stale! No life, no bloom, no flavor in it!

  My comrades are intolerable to me.

  My father-even to him I can say nothing.

  My arms, my military duties-O!

  They are such wearying toys!

  COUNTESS.

  But gentle friend!

  I must entreat it of your condescension,

  You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favor

  With one short glance or two this poor stale
world,

  Where even now much, and of much moment,

  Is on the eve of its completion.

  MAX.

  Something,

  I can't but know is going forward round me.

  I see it gathering, crowding, driving on,

  In wild uncustomary movements. Well,

  In due time, doubtless, it will reach even me.

  Where think you I have been, dear lady? Nay,

  No raillery. The turmoil of the camp,

  The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in,

  The pointless jest, the empty conversation,

  Oppressed and stifled me. I gasped for air-

  I could not breathe-I was constrained to fly,

  To seek a silence out for my full heart;

  And a pure spot wherein to feel my happiness.

  No smiling, countess! In the church was I.

  There is a cloister here "To the heaven's gate," [10]

  Thither I went, there found myself alone.

  Over the altar hung a holy mother;

  A wretched painting 'twas, yet 'twas the friend

  That I was seeking in this moment. Ah,

  How oft have I beheld that glorious form

  In splendor, 'mid ecstatic worshippers;

  Yet, still it moved me not! and now at once

  Was my devotion cloudless as my love.

  COUNTESS.

  Enjoy your fortune and felicity!

  Forget the world around you. Meantime, friendship

  Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active.

  Only be manageable when that friendship

  Points you the road to full accomplishment.

  MAX.

  But where abides she then? Oh, golden time

  Of travel, when each morning sun united

  And but the coming night divided us;

  Then ran no sand, then struck no hour for us,

  And time, in our excess of happiness,

  Seemed on its course eternal to stand still.

  Oh, he hath fallen from out his heaven of bliss

  Who can descend to count the changing hours,

  No clock strikes ever for the happy!

  COUNTESS.

  How long is it since you declared your passion?

  MAX.

  This morning did I hazard the first word.

  COUNTESS.

  This morning the first time in twenty days?

  MAX.

  'Twas at that hunting-castle, betwixt here

  And Nepomuck, where you had joined us, and

  That was the last relay of the whole journey;

  In a balcony we were standing mute,

  And gazing out upon the dreary field

  Before us the dragoons were riding onward,

  The safeguard which the duke had sent us-heavy;

  The inquietude of parting lay upon me,

  And trembling ventured at length these words:

  This all reminds me, noble maiden, that

  To-day I must take leave of my good fortune.

  A few hours more, and you will find a father,

  Will see yourself surrounded by new friends,

  And I henceforth shall be but as a stranger,

  Lost in the many-"Speak with my Aunt Terzky!"

  With hurrying voice she interrupted me.

  She faltered. I beheld a glowing red

  Possess her beautiful cheeks, and from the ground

  Raised slowly up her eye met mine-no longer

  Did I control myself.

  [The Princess THEKLA appears at the door, and remains standing,

  observed by the COUNTESS, but not by PICCOLOMINI.

  With instant boldness

  I caught her in my arms, my lips touched hers;

  There was a rustling in the room close by;

  It parted us-'Twas you. What since has happened

  You know.

  COUNTESS (after a pause, with a stolen glance at THEKLA).

  And is it your excess of modesty

  Or are you so incurious, that you do not

  Ask me too of my secret?

  MAX.

  Of your secret?

  COUNTESS.

  Why, yes! When in the instant after you

  I stepped into the room, and found my niece there;

  What she in this first moment of the heart

  Taken with surprise--

  MAX. (with eagerness).

  Well?

  SCENE IV.

  THEKLA (hurries forward), COUNTESS, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

  THEKLA (to the COUNTESS).

  Spare yourself the trouble:

  That hears he better from myself.

  MAX. (stepping backward).

  My princess!

  What have you let her hear me say, Aunt Terzky?

  THEKLA (to the COUNTESS).

  Has he been here long?

  COUNTESS.

  Yes; and soon must go,

  Where have you stayed so long?

  THEKLA.

  Alas! my mother,

  Wept so again! and I-I see her suffer,

  Yet cannot keep myself from being happy.

  MAX.

  Now once again I have courage to look on you.

  To-day at noon I could not.

  The dazzle of the jewels that played round you

  Hid the beloved from me.

  THEKLA.

  Then you saw me

  With your eye only-and not with your heart?

  MAX.

  This morning, when I found you in the circle

  Of all your kindred, in your father's arms,

  Beheld myself an alien in this circle,

  O! what an impulse felt I in that moment

  To fall upon his neck, to call him father!

  But his stern eye o'erpowered the swelling passion,

  It dared not but be silent. And those brilliants,

  That like a crown of stars enwreathed your brows,

  They scared me too! O wherefore, wherefore should he

  At the first meeting spread as 'twere the ban

  Of excommunication round you,-wherefore

  Dress up the angel as for sacrifice.

  And cast upon the light and joyous heart

  The mournful burden of his station? Fitly

  May love dare woo for love; but such a splendor

  Might none but monarchs venture to approach.

  THEKLA.

  Hush! not a word more of this mummery;

  You see how soon the burden is thrown off.

  [To the COUNTESS.

  He is not in spirits. Wherefore is he not?

  'Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy!

  He had quite another nature on the journey-

  So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent.

  [To MAX.

  It was my wish to see you always so,

  And never otherwise!

  MAX.

  You find yourself

  In your great father's arms, beloved lady!

  All in a new world, which does homage to you,

  And which, were't only by its novelty,

  Delights your eye.

  THEKLA.

  Yes; I confess to you

  That many things delight me here: this camp,

  This motley stage of warriors, which renews

  So manifold the image of my fancy,

  And binds to life, binds to reality,

  What hitherto had but been present to me

  As a sweet dream!

  MAX.

  Alas! not so to me.

  It makes a dream of my reality.

  Upon some island in the ethereal heights

  I've lived for these last days. This mass of men

  Forces me down to earth. It is a bridge

  That, reconducting to my former life,

  Divides me and my heaven.

  THEKLA.

  The game of life

  Looks cheerful, when one carries in one's heart

  Th
e unalienable treasure. 'Tis a game,

  Which, having once reviewed, I turn more joyous

  Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss.

  [Breaking off, and in a sportive tone.

  In this short time that I've been present here.

  What new unheard-of things have I not seen;

  And yet they all must give place to the wond

  Which this mysterious castle guards.

  COUNTESS (recollecting).

  And what

  Can this be then? Methought I was acquainted

  With all the dusky corners of this house.

  THEKLA (smiling).

  Ay, but the road thereto is watched by spirits,

  Two griffins still stand sentry at the door.

  COUNTESS (laughs).

  The astrological tower! How happens it

  That this same sanctuary, whose access

  Is to all others so impracticable,

  Opens before you even at your approach?

  THEKLA.

  A dwarfish old man with a friendly face

  And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services

  Were mine at first sight, opened me the doors.

 

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