Читать книгу The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 03 - Коллектив авторов, Ю. Д. Земенков, Koostaja: Ajakiri New Scientist - Страница 43

By WILLIAM H. CARRUTH, PH.D.

Professor of Comparative Literature, Leland Stanford University

Schiller wrote in rapid succession, during his Storm and Stress period, The Robbers, Fiesco, Cabal and Love, and the beginning of Don Carlos (finished in 1787). Between this time and his last period, which opens with Wallenstein, he devoted himself assiduously to the study of philosophy, history, and esthetic theory. Even in writing Don Carlos he had felt that he needed to give more care to artistic form and to the deeper questions of dramatic unity. His own dissatisfaction with the results achieved was one of several reasons why for nearly ten years he dropped dramatic composition. He felt, too, that he needed more experience of life. He himself said of the greatest of his Storm and Stress dramas that he had attempted to portray humanity before he really knew humanity.

In 1788 he published the first part of his History of the Rebellion of the Netherlands, which brought him the appointment to the chair of history in the University of Jena. The occupation with his next historical work, the History of the Thirty Years' War, suggested to him the thought of dramatizing the career of Wallenstein. But he was not yet clear with himself on questions of artistic method. He was studying Homer and dramatizing Euripides, lecturing and writing on dramatic theory. Further delays were due to marriage and to serious illness. It was not until 1796 that Schiller felt ready to begin work on the long planned drama of Wallenstein.

The first scenes were written in prose, but soon the poet realized that only the dignified heroic verse was suited to his theme. Then "all went better." Constant discussions with Goethe and Christian Gottfried Koerner helped him to clear up his doubts and overcome the difficulties of his subject. He found that history left too little room for sympathy with Wallenstein, for he conceived him as really guilty of treason. He decided early to lighten the gloom of his theme by introducing the love episode of Max and Thekla. He modified also his view of the nature of Wallenstein's guilt. Gradually the material grew upon him. What he had planned as a Prologue became the one-act play, Wallenstein's Camp, which, when it was produced in October, 1798, at the reopening of the Weimar Theatre, was preceded by 138 lines of Dedication, since printed as the Prologue. Already Schiller had foreseen the development into more than five acts, and accordingly The Piccolomini appeared separately, January 30, 1799, and the whole series in order about the middle of April, upon the completion of Wallenstein's Death.

Wallenstein is a trilogy, but in name rather than in real connection and relation of parts. Wallenstein's Camp is a picture of masses, introducing only common soldiers and none of the chief personages of the other parts of the composition. Its purpose is to present something of the tremendous background of the action proper and to give a realizing sense of the influence upon Wallenstein's career of the soldiery with which he operated—as Schiller expressed it in a line of his Prologue: "His camp alone explains to us his crime." By this he meant that, on the one hand, the blind confidence of the troops in the luck and the destiny of their leader made him arrogant and reckless, and, on the other hand, perhaps, that the mercenary character of these soldiers of fortune forced Wallenstein to steps which his calm judgment would have condemned.

In a succession of eleven scenes of very unequal length the various arms of the service are introduced, together with camp followers and a Capuchin preacher; in reminiscences the earlier features of the great war and some feats of the general are recalled; in discussions the character of Wallenstein and of his leading officers is sketched; finally the report of the recent demand of the Emperor, that Wallenstein detach 8,000 men to escort the Cardinal Infant to the Netherlands, reveals the opposition of the army to such an order and its unconditional loyalty to Wallenstein.

The second and third parts of the trilogy, The Piccolomini and Wallenstein's Death, constitute, in fact, one ten-act play, which requires two evenings for presentation. So slight is the organic division between the two plays that, as first presented, in the fall of 1798 and the spring of 1799, The Piccolomini included the first two acts of Wallenstein's Death as later printed and here given, while the last three acts were so divided as to constitute five.

The Piccolomini, which could not be reprinted in this anthology, presents essentially what is called the "exposition" of the entire drama, together with a part of the complication of the plot. Questenberg, the imperial commissioner, visits Wallenstein's headquarters in Pilsen to present the order of the Emperor for the detachment of eight regiments of Wallenstein's best cavalry to serve as escort to the Cardinal Infant on his way to the Netherlands. He meets distrust and almost incredible defiance from Wallenstein's officers, excepting Octavio Piccolomini, one of the oldest and most trusted, to whom he brings secret dispatches directing him to supersede Wallenstein in case of the latter's open rebellion, which the court believes he has already determined upon. Wallenstein himself meets the demands with a reproachful reference to the violation of the plenary powers intrusted to him by the Emperor as the condition of his assuming the command, but announces that he will relieve him from embarrassment by resigning. This announcement is received with a storm of protests from his officers. Questenberg and Octavio are deeply concerned to make sure of the adherence to their cause of Octavio's son, Max, a child of the camp and an especial favorite with Wallenstein. Max has just arrived at Pilsen as escort of Wallenstein's wife and of his daughter Thekla, to whom he has lost his heart. Wallenstein and his masterful sister, Countess Terzky, are also eager to secure Max to their side in the coming conflict, and the Countess tries to persuade Thekla to govern her actions accordingly. Thekla, however, is nobly frank with Max and warns him to trust only his own heart; for she realizes that the threads of a dark plot are drawing close about herself and Max, though she does not clearly understand what it is. Meanwhile Terzky and Illo have planned a meeting of Wallenstein's officers to protest against his withdrawal. In a splendid banquet scene they present a written agreement (Revers) to stand by the general so far as loyalty to the Emperor will permit, and then, when all are heated with wine, secure signatures to a substituted document from which this reservation of loyalty to the Emperor is omitted. It is the hope of Illo and Terzky, through the sight of this document, to persuade Wallenstein to open rebellion. Max Piccolomini, coming late to the banquet from the interview with Thekla, refuses to sign the pledge, not because he sees through the deception, but because he is in no mood for business. Before morning his father summons him, thinking Max has refused to sign because he scented the intended treason, and reveals to him the whole situation—the plots of the officers, Wallenstein's dangerous negotiations with enemies of the Emperor, and his own commission to take command and save whatever he can of loyal troops. Max is thunder-truck. He can believe neither Wallenstein's purpose of treason nor his father's duplicity in dealing behind the back of his great commander. He refuses to follow his father's orders and leaves him with the avowed intention of going to Wallenstein and calling upon him to clear himself of the calumnious charges of the court. At this point begins the action of Wallenstein's Death.

In all of his later dramas excepting William Tell, Schiller endeavored to introduce a factor which is called "the dramatic guilt," a circumstance, usually in the character of the hero but sometimes in his environment, which makes the tragic outcome inevitable and yet leaves room in the breast of the reader or spectator for sympathy with the hero in his fate. In the case of Wallenstein this "guilt" is the dalliance with the love of power and the possibility of rebellion, not a deliberate intention to commit treason. In the close of his treatment of Wallenstein in The Thirty Years' War Schiller says: "No one of his actions justifies us in considering him convicted of treason. * * * Thus Wallenstein fell, not because he was a rebel, but he rebelled because he fell."

The circumstances are urged that Wallenstein was a prince of the Empire, and had as such the right to negotiate with foreign powers; that his delegated authority from the Emperor gave him the right to do so in the Emperor's name; that the Emperor had not kept faith with Wallenstein, and had thus justified him in at least frightening the court; that self preservation seemed to indicate rebellion as the only recourse; that Wallenstein's belief in his destiny and the fatuous devotion of his army led him to reckless action; and finally that he did not originally intend to commit actual treason.

Thus prepared, the reader can easily sympathize with Wallenstein in his downfall; this sympathy is entirely won by the admirable courage with which Wallenstein bears the successive blows of fate, and it is strengthened by consideration of the mean motives of the men who serve as the tools of his execution, and by the remembrance that the fate of Max and Thekla is bound up in his. Schiller was concerned lest the love episode should detract from the interest due the chief persons of the tragedy; his art has effected the exact opposite.

The influence of Shakespeare is more or less obvious in all of Schiller's later dramas. Aside from the splendid rhetoric of the monologues, the character of Countess Terzky, so similar to that of Lady Macheth, suggests this. But such influence is not so controlling as to be in any respect a reproach to Schiller. Goethe in his generous admiration considered Wallenstein "so great that nothing could be compared with it." "In the imaginative power whereby history is made into drama, in the triumph of artistic genius over a vast and refractory mass of material, and in the skill with which the character of the hero is conceived and denoted, Wallenstein is unrivaled. Its chief figure is by far the stateliest and most impressive of German tragic heroes." [22]

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