THE TRIPLE WARNING –ARTHUR SCHNITZLER
IN the morning mist, shot through with the blue of the heavens, a
youth was making his way toward the beckoning mountains. His heart
thrilled to the rhythmical beat of all the world. Without a care or worry
he went on for hours over the level country when, on reaching the
edge of a forest, a voice rang out, sounding at once near at hand and
far-off, and very mysterious:
“Go not through this forest, youth, unless thou wouldst commit
murder.”
The youth stood still in astonishment, looked in every direction, and
seeing nowhere any sign of a living being, concluded that it was a spirit
that had addressed him. But his innate courage would not permit him
to heed the strange call, and reducing his gait only a little, he proceeded
on his way without misgiving, his senses keenly alert, in order that
he might be prepared for a meeting with the unknown enemy that had
warned him. But he met no one, nor heard any suspicious sound as, un-
challenged, he emerged out of the deep shadows of the trees into the
open. Under the last wide boughs he sank down for a short rest, allowing
his eyes to wander out across a wide meadow toward the mountains, from
among which one peak rose aloft, naked and sharply outlined. This was
his ultimate goal.
But scarcely had he arisen again when for the second time the myste-
rious voice was heard, sounding at once near at hand and far-off,
mysteriously, but more earnestly than before:
“Go not through this meadow, youth, unless thou wouldst bring ruin
to thy Fatherland.”
The youth’s pride this time forbade his taking heed; he even smiled
at the rigmarole, which was delivered with the air as of one concealing
something very important, and hurried on, not knowing whether im-
patience or unrest hastened his steps. The damp mist of evening descended
upon the plain as he at last stood facing the rocky wall below his goal.
Hardly had he set foot upon the bare surface of the stone, when the
voice rang out again, near at hand and far-off, mysteriously, but more
threateningly than before:
“No farther, youth, else wilt thou suffer death.”
The youth laughed loudly and, without haste or hesitation, went on
his way. And the less clear the ascending path became, the more did his
chest expand, and finally on the bravely conquered peak his head was
illumined by the last light of day.
“Here I am!” he called out in a tone of triumph. “If this was a
test, O good or evil spirit, then have I won! No murder weighs on
my conscience, unharmed slumbers my Fatherland below, and I still live.
Whosoever thou art, I am stronger than thou, for I did not believe thee,
and I did right.”
Whereupon came a great sound as of thunder from the mountain
sides, and at the same time exceeding close at hand:
“Youth, thou errest!” And the overpowering weight of the words
felled the wanderer.
He stretched himself out on the edge of rock as
though he intended to rest there, and with an ironical curl of the lips
he said half to himself:
“So it appears that I have committed murder without knowing it!”
“Thy careless foot has crushed a worm,” the answer thundered back.
And the youth answered with indifference:
“I see: neither a good nor an evil spirit spoke to me, but a spirit with
a sense of humor. I was not aware that such hovered about among us
mortals.” And again the voice resounded in the fading twilight of the heights:
“Art thou then no longer the same youth whose heart only this morn-
ing thrilled to the rhythmical beat of all the world? Is thy soul so dead
that thou art untouched by the happiness and sorrow of even a worm?”
“Is that thy meaning?” replied the youth, wrinkling his forehead.
“In that event am I a hundred a thousand times guilty, like other
mortals, whose careless steps have innocently destroyed tiny creatures
without number.”
“Against this particular thing wast thou warned. Dost thou know to
what purpose this worm was destined in the eternal scheme of things?”
With sunken head the youth made answer:
“Since I neither knew nor could know that, thou must humbly confess
that in my wandering through the forest I have committed precisely
the one of many possible murders that it was thy will to prevent. But
how I have contrived in my way over the fields to bring ruin to my
Fatherland, I am really most curious to learn.”
“Sawest thou, youth, the bright-colored butterfly,” came the whispered
answer, “that fluttered once to the right of thee?”
“Many butterflies did I see, as well as the one thou mentionest.”
“Many butterflies! Ah, many did the breath from thy lips drive far
from their way; but the one I speak of was driven off to the east, wing-
ing its way far and wide until it flew over the golden fence that encloses
the royal park. From that butterfly will be born the caterpillar
which next year, one hot summer afternoon, will crawl over the white
neck of the young queen, awakening her so suddenly from her sleep
that her heart will stand still in her breast, and the fruit of her womb
languish and die. Thus the king’s brother will inherit the kingdom in-
stead of the rightful heir, whom thou wilt have cheated of his life;
vicious, malicious, and cruel, he will so rule as to bring his people to
despair, madness, and finally, in a frantic effort to save himself, he will
plunge his country into a terrible war, and thus bring thy dear Fatherland
to ruin. And on no one but thou rests the blame for all this, thou whose
breath drove the colored butterfly eastwards across the meadow until
it flew over the golden fence of the king’s park.”
The youth shrugged his shoulders: “How, O invisible spirit, can I deny that all this that thou prophesiest will come to pass, since on earth one thing always follows from another, and often the most terrible events are caused by the most trivial things,
and the most trivial events by the most terrible things? And why should I
believe this particular prophecy, since the other, threatening me with
death should I mount these steps, has not come to pass?”
“He who mounts those steps,” rang out the terrible voice, “must turn
back and descend them, if he wishes to mix with mankind again. Hast
thou pondered that?”
The youth stopped suddenly and for a moment it seemed as though
he would take the safe path downwards, but fearing the impene-
trable night that encircled him, he clearly perceived that for so hazardous
an enterprise he would require the light of day, and in order to make
sure that he would have all his wits at his command on the morrow, he
lay down again on the narrow ledge, longing ardently for the sleep
that strengthens. As he lay there motionless, his thoughts keeping him
awake, he opened his tired eyelids, while anxious shudders ran through
his heart and veins. The dizzy precipice was ever before his eyes: that
way lay the only road back to life. He who until then had been always
sure of his path, now felt in his soul a doubt he had never before ex-
perienced, that deepened and caused him ever greater agony, until he
could no longer bear it. He therefore decided rather to attempt forthwith
what could not be avoided than to await the light in a torment of in-
certitude. Again he arose, ready for the venture without the blessed light
of day, to conquer with faltering steps the dangerous path. But hardly
had he set foot into the darkness when he realized as though condemned
by an irrevocable judgment, that his fate was to be fulfilled without
delay. He called out into the emptiness in anger and sorrow:
“O Invisible Spirit, who hast three times warned me and whom I
have thrice refused to believe, O Spirit to whom I now bow down as
to one stronger than I, tell me, ere thou destroyest me, who thou art?”
Again the voice rang out, stiflingly dose at hand and immeasurably
far away:
“No mortal hath yet known me. Many names have I: the superstitious
call me Destiny, fools call me Luck, and the pious call me God. To
those who deem themselves wise I am that Power which was in the Be-
ginning and continues without end through all Eternity.”
“Then I curse thee in this my last moment,” shouted the youth with
die bitterness of death in his heart. “If thou art indeed the Power that
was in the Beginning and continues without end through all Eternity,
then was it fated that all should happen as it did that I should go
through the forest and commit murder, that I should cross the meadow
and bring ruin upon my Fatherland, that I should climb this rock and
here find death all this despite thy warning. But why was I condemned
to hear thee speak to me thrice, if thy warning was not to help me? And
why, oh, irony of ironies! must I in this my last moment whimper my
feeble question to thee?”
An answer was made to the youth, stern and terrible, in a peal of
mysterious laughter that echoed to the utmost confines of the invisible
heavens. As he tried to catch the words the earth moved and sank from
under his feet. He fell, deeper than a million bottomless pits, amid all the
lurking nights of time, that have been and will be, from the Beginning
to the End of all things.
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