OCTAVIO.

You must have been calumniated. Guess you The enemy who did you this ill service?

BUTLER.

Be't who it will—a most low-hearted scoundrel! Some vile court-minion must it be, some Spaniard, Some young squire of some ancient family, In whose light I may stand; some envious knave, Stung to his soul by my fair self-earn'd honors!

OCTAVIO.

But tell me, did the Duke approve that measure?

BUTLER.

Himself impell'd me to it, used his interest In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship.

OCTAVIO.

Ay? are you sure of that?

BUTLER.

I read the letter.

OCTAVIO.

And so did I—but the contents were different. [BUTLER is suddenly struck.]

By chance I'm in possession of that letter— Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you.

[He gives him the letter.]

BUTLER.

Ha! what is this?

OCTAVIO.

I fear me, Colonel Butler, An infamous game have they been playing with you. The Duke, you say, impell'd you to this measure? Now, in this letter, talks he in contempt Concerning you; counsels the minister To give sound chastisement to your conceit, For so he calls it.

[BUTLER reads through the letter; his knees tremble, he seizes a chair, and sinks down in it.]

You have no enemy, no persecutor; There's no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe The insult you received to the Duke only. His aim is clear and palpable. He wish'd To tear you from your Emperor: he hoped To gain from your revenge what he well knew (What your long-tried fidelity convinced him) He ne'er could dare expect from your calm reason. A blind tool would he make you, in contempt Use you, as means of most abandoned ends. He has gained his point. Too well has he succeeded In luring you away from that good path On which you had been journeying forty years!

BUTLER (his voice trembling).

Can e'er the Emperor's Majesty forgive me?

OCTAVIO.

More than forgive you. He would fain compensate For that affront, and most unmerited grievance Sustain'd by a deserving gallant veteran. From his free impulse he confirms the present, Which the Duke made you for a wicked purpose. The regiment, which you now command, is yours.

[BUTLER attempts to rise, sinks down again. He labors inwardly with violent emotions; tries to speak, and cannot. At length he takes his sword from the belt, and offers it to PICCOLOMINI.]

OCTAVIO.

What wish you? Recollect yourself, friend.

BUTLER.

Take it.

OCTAVIO.

But to what purpose? Calm yourself.

BUTLER.

O take it! I am no longer worthy of this sword.

OCTAVIO.

Receive it then anew, from my hands—and Wear it with honor for the right cause ever.

BUTLER.

Perjure myself to such a gracious Sovereign!

OCTAVIO.

You'll make amends. Quick! break off from the Duke!

BUTLER.

Break off from him!

OCTAVIO.

What now? Bethink thyself.

BUTLER (no longer governing his emotion).

Only break off from him? He dies! he dies!

OCTAVIO.

Come after me to Frauenburg, where now All who are loyal are assembling under Counts Altringer and Gallas. Many others I've brought to a remembrance of their duty: This night be sure that you escape from Pilsen.

BUTLER (strides up and down in excessive agitation, then steps up to OCTAVIO with resolved countenance).

Count Piccolomini! dare that man speak Of honor to you, who once broke his troth.

OCTAVIO.

He, who repents so deeply of it, dares.

BUTLER.

Then leave me here upon my word of honor!

OCTAVIO.

What's your design?

BUTLER.

Leave me and my regiment.

OCTAVIO.

I have full confidence in you. But tell me What are you brooding?

BUTLER.

That the deed will tell you. Ask me no more at present. Trust to me. Ye may trust safely. By the living God Ye give him over, not to his good angel! Farewell.

[Exit BUTLER.]

SERVANT (enters with a billet).

A stranger left it, and is gone. The Prince Duke's horses wait for you below.

[Exit SERVANT.]

OCTAVIO (reads).

"Be sure make haste! Your faithful Isolan." —O that I had but left this town behind me. To split upon a rock so near the haven!—Away! This is no longer a safe place For me! Where can my son be tarrying!

SCENE VII

OCTAVIO and MAX PICCOLOWINI

[MAX enters almost in a state of derangement, from extreme agitation; his eyes roll wildly, his walk is unsteady, and he appears not to observe his father, who stands at a distance, and gazes at him with a countenance expressive of compassion. He paces with long strides through the chamber, then stands still again, and at last throws himself into a chair, staring vacantly at the object directly before him.]

OCTAVIO (advances to him).

I am going off, my son.

[Receiving no answer, he takes his hand.]

My son, farewell.

MAX.

Farewell.

OCTAVIO.

Thou wilt soon follow me?

MAX.

I follow thee? Thy way is crooked—it is not my way.

[OCTAVIO drops his hand, and starts back.]

O, hadst thou been but simple and sincere, Ne'er had it come to this—all had stood otherwise. He had not done that foul and horrible deed, The virtuous had retain'd their influence o'er him: He had not fallen into the snares of villains. Wherefore so like a thief, and thief's accomplice Didst creep behind him, lurking for thy prey! O, unblest falsehood! Mother of all evil! Thou misery-making demon, it is thou That sink'st us in perdition. Simple truth, Sustainer of the world, have saved us all! Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee! Wallenstein has deceived me—O, most foully! But thou hast acted not much better.

OCTAVIO.

Son! My son, ah! I forgive thy agony!

MAX. (rises and contemplates his father with looks of suspicion).

Was't possible? hadst thou the heart, my father, Hadst thou the heart to drive it to such lengths, With cold premeditated purpose? Thou— Hadst thou the heart to wish to see him guilty Rather than saved? Thou risest by his fall. Octavio, 'twill not please me.

OCTAVIO.

God in heaven!

MAX.

O, woe is me! sure I have changed my nature. How comes suspicion here—in the free soul? Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all Lied to me, all that I e'er loved or honored. No, no! not all! She—she yet lives for me, And she is true, and open as the heavens! Deceit is everywhere, hypocrisy, Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury: The single holy spot is our love, The only unprofaned in human nature.

OCTAVIO.

Max!—we will go together. 'Twill be better.

MAX.

What? ere I've taken a last parting leave, The very last—no, never!

OCTAVIO.

Spare thyself The pang of necessary separation. Come with me! Come, my son!

[Attempts to take him with him.]

MAX.

No! as sure as God lives, no!

OCTAVIO (more urgently).

Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.

MAX.

Command me what is human. I stay here.

OCTAVIO.

Max! in the Emperor's name I bid thee come.

MAX.

No Emperor has power to prescribe Laws to the heart; and wouldst thou wish to rob me Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me, Her sympathy? Must then a cruel deed Be done with cruelty? The unalterable Shall I perform ignobly—steal away, With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No! She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish, Hear the complaints of the disparted soul, And weep tears o'er me. Oh! the human race Have steely souls—but she is as an angel. From the black deadly madness of despair Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!

OCTAVIO.

Thou wilt not tear thyself away; thou canst not. O, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.

MAX.

Squander not thou thy words in vain. The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it.

OCTAVIO (trembling, and losing all self command).

Max! Max! if that most damned thing could be, If thou—my son—my own blood—dare I think it? Do sell thyself to him, the infamous, Do stamp this brand upon our noble house, Then shall the world behold the horrible deed And in unnatural combat shall the steel Of the son trickle with the father's blood.

MAX.

O hadst thou always better thought of men Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion, Unholy, miserable doubt! To him Nothing on earth remains unwrench'd and firm, Who has no faith.

OCTAVIO.

And if I trust thy heart, Will it be always in thy power to follow it?

MAX.

The heart's voice thou hast not o'erpowered—as little Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it.

OCTAVIO.

O, Max! I see thee never more again!

MAX.

Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.

OCTAVIO.

I go to Frauenburg—the Pappenheimers I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Tsokans And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee. They love thee, and are faithful to their oath, And will far rather fall in gallant contest Than leave their rightful leader, and their honor.

MAX.

Rely on this, I either leave my life In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen.

OCTAVIO.

Farewell, my son!

MAX.

Farewell!

OCTAVIO.

How! not one look Of filial love? No grasp of the hand at parting? It is a bloody war to which we are going, And the event uncertain and in darkness. So used we not to part—it was not so! Is it then true? I have a son no longer?

[MAX falls into his arms, they hold each other for a long time in a speechless embrace, then go away at different sides.]

[The Curtain drops.]

* * * * *



ACT III

SCENE I

A Chamber in the House of the Duchess of Friedland

COUNTESS TERZKY, THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN (the two latter sit at the same table at work)

COUNTESS (watching them from the opposite side).

So you have nothing to ask me—nothing? I have been waiting for a word from you. And could you then endure in all this time Not once to speak his name?

[THEKLA remaining silent, the COUNTESS rises and advances to her.]

Why, how comes this! Perhaps I am already grown superfluous, And other ways exist, besides through me? Confess it to me, Thekla: have you seen him?

THEKLA.

Today and yesterday I have not seen him.

COUNTESS.

And not heard from him, either? Come, be open.

THEKLA.

No syllable.

COUNTESS.

And still you are so calm?

THEKLA.

I am.

COUNTESS.

May 't please you, leave us, Lady Neubrunn. [Exit LADY NEUBRUNN.]

SCENE II

The COUNTESS, THEKLA

COUNTESS.

It does not please me, Princess, that he holds Himself so still, exactly at this time.

THEKLA.

Exactly at this time?

COUNTESS.

He now knows all: 'Twere now the moment to declare himself.

THEKLA.

If I'm to understand you, speak less darkly.

COUNTESS.

'Twas for that purpose that I bade her leave us. Thekla, you are no more a child. Your heart Is now no more in nonage: for you love, And boldness dwells with love—that you have proved Your nature molds itself upon your father's More than your mother's spirit. Therefore may you Hear, what were too much for her fortitude.

THEKLA.

Enough: no further preface, I entreat you. At once, out with it! Be it what it may, It is not possible that it should torture me More than this introduction. What have you To say to me? Tell me the whole, and briefly!

COUNTESS.

You'll not be frighten'd—

THEKLA.

Name it, I entreat you.

COUNTESS.

It lies within your power to do your father A weighty service—

THEKLA.

Lies within my power?

COUNTESS.

Max Piccolomini loves you. You can link him Indissolubly to your father.

THEKLA.

I? What need of me for that? And is he not Already link'd to him?

COUNTESS.

He was.

THEKLA.

And wherefore Should he not be so now—not be so always?

COUNTESS.

He cleaves to the Emperor too.

THEKLA.

Not more than duty And honor may demand of him.

COUNTESS.

We ask Proofs of his love, and not proofs of his honor. Duty and honor! Those are ambiguous words with many meanings. You should interpret them for him: his love Should be the sole definer of his honor.

THEKLA.

How?

COUNTESS.

The Emperor or you must he renounce.

THEKLA.

He will accompany my father gladly In his retirement. From himself you heard, How much he wish'd to lay aside the sword.

COUNTESS.

He must not lay the sword aside, we mean; He must unsheath it in your father's cause.

THEKLA.

He'll spend with gladness and alacrity His life, his heart's blood in my father's cause, If shame or injury be intended him.

COUNTESS.

You will not understand me. Well, hear then:— Your father has fallen off from the Emperor, And is about to join the enemy With the whole soldiery—

THEKLA.

Alas, my mother!

COUNTESS.

There needs a great example to draw on The army after him. The Piccolomini Possess the love and reverence of the troops; They govern all opinions, and wherever They lead the way none hesitate to follow. The son secures the father to our interests— You've much in your hands at this moment.

THEKLA.

Ah! My miserable mother! what a death-stroke Awaits thee!—No! she never will survive it.

COUNTESS.

She will accommodate her soul to that Which is and must be. I do know your mother; The far-off future weighs upon her heart With torture of anxiety; but is it Unalterably, actually present, She soon resigns herself, and bears it calmly.

THEKLA.

O my foreboding bosom! Even now, E'en now 'tis here, that icy hand of horror! And my young hope lies shuddering in its grasp; I knew it well—no sooner had I enter'd, An heavy ominous presentiment Reveal'd to me that spirits of death were hovering Over my happy fortune. But why think I First of myself? My mother! O my mother!

COUNTESS.

Calm yourself! Break not out in vain lamenting! Preserve you for your father the firm friend, And for yourself the lover, all will yet Prove good and fortunate.

THEKLA.

Prove good! What good? Must we not part?—part ne'er to meet again?

COUNTESS.

He parts not from you! He cannot part from you.

THEKLA.

Alas for his sore anguish! It will rend His heart asunder.

COUNTESS.

If indeed he loves you, His resolution will be speedily taken.

THEKLA.

His resolution will be speedily taken— O do not doubt of that! A resolution! Does there remain one to be taken?

COUNTESS.

Hush, Collect yourself! I hear your mother coming.

THEKLA.

How shall I bear to see her?

COUNTESS.

Collect yourself.

SCENE III

To them enter the DUCHESS

DUCHESS (to the COUNTESS).

Who was here, sister? I heard someone talking, And passionately too.

COUNTESS.

Nay! there was no one.

DUCHESS.

I am grown so timorous, every trifling noise Scatters my spirits, and announces to me The footstep of some messenger of evil. And you can tell me, sister, what the event is? Will he agree to do the Emperor's pleasure, And send the horse-regiments to the Cardinal? Tell me, has he dismiss'd Von Questenberg With a favorable answer?

COUNTESS.

No, he has not.

DUCHESS.

Alas! then all is lost! I see it coming, The worst that can come! Yes, they will depose him; The accursed business of the Regensburg diet Will all be acted o'er again!

COUNTESS.

No! never! Make your heart easy, sister, as to that.

[THEKLA, in extreme agitation, throws herself upon her mother, and enfolds her in her arms, weeping.]

DUCHESS.

Yes, my poor child! Thou too hast lost a most affectionate godmother In the Empress. O that stern unbending man! In this unhappy marriage what have I Not suffer'd, not endured? For even as if I had been link'd on to some wheel of fire That restless, ceaseless, whirls impetuous onward, I have pass'd a life of frights and horrors with him, And ever to the brink of some abyss With dizzy headlong violence he bears me. Nay, do not weep, my child. Let not my sufferings Presignify unhappiness to thee, Nor blacken with their shade the fate that waits thee. There lives no second Friedland: thou, my child, Hast not to fear thy mother's destiny.

THEKLA.

O let us supplicate him, dearest mother! Quick! quick! here's no abiding place for us. Here every coming hour broods into life Some new affrightful monster.

DUCHESS.

Thou wilt share An easier, calmer lot, my child! We too, I and thy father, witnessed happy days. Still think I with delight of those first years, When he was making progress with glad effort, When his ambition was a genial fire, Not that consuming flame which now it is. The Emperor loved him, trusted him: and all He undertook could not but be successful. But since that ill-starr'd day at Regensburg, Which plunged him headlong from his dignity, A gloomy uncompanionable spirit, Unsteady and suspicious, has possess'd him. His quiet mind forsook him, and no longer Did he yield up himself in joy and faith To his old luck and individual power; But thenceforth turn'd his heart and best affections All to those cloudy sciences, which never Have yet made happy him who follow'd them.

COUNTESS.

You see it, sister, as your eyes permit you, But surely this is not the conversation To pass the time in which we are waiting for him. You know he will be soon here. Would you have him Find her in this condition?

DUCHESS.

Come, my child! Come wipe away thy tears, and show thy father A cheerful countenance. See, the tie-knot here Is off—this hair must not hang so dishevell'd. Come, dearest! dry thy tears up. They deform Thy gentle eye.—Well now—what was I saying? Yes, in good truth, this Piccolomini Is a most noble and deserving gentleman.

COUNTESS.

That is he, sister!

THEKLA (to the COUNTESS, with marks of great oppression of spirits).

Aunt, you will excuse me?

[Is going.]

COUNTESS.

But whither? See, your father comes.

THEKLA.

I cannot see him now.

COUNTESS.

Nay, but bethink you.

THEKLA.

Believe me, I cannot sustain his presence.

COUNTESS.

But he will miss you, will ask after you.

DUCHESS.

What now? Why is she going?

COUNTESS.

She's not well.

DUCHESS (anxiously).

What ails then my beloved child?

[Both follow the PRINCESS, and endeavor to detain her. During this WALLENSTEIN appears, engaged in conversation with ILLO.]

SCENE IV

WALLENSTEIN, ILLO, COUNTESS, DUCHESS, THEKLA

WALLENST.

All quiet in the camp?

ILLO.

It is all quiet.

WALLENST.

In a few hours may couriers come from Prague With tidings that this capital is ours. Then we may drop the mask, and to the troops Assembled in this town make known the measure And its result together. In such cases Example does the whole. Whoever is foremost Still leads the herd. An imitative creature Is man. The troops at Prague conceive no other Than that the Pilsen army has gone through The forms of homage to us; and in Pilsen They shall swear fealty to us, because The example has been given them by Prague. Butler, you tell me, has declared himself?

ILLO.

At his own bidding, unsolicited, He came to offer you himself and regiment.

WALLENST.

I find we must not give implicit credence To every warning voice that makes itself Be listen'd to in the heart. To hold us back, Oft does the lying Spirit counterfeit The voice of Truth and inward Revelation, Scattering false oracles. And thus have I To entreat forgiveness, for that secretly I've wrong'd this honorable, gallant man, This Butler: for a feeling, of the which I am not master (fear I would not call it), Creeps o'er me instantly, with sense of shuddering At his approach, and stops love's joyous motion. And this same man, against whom I am warn'd, This honest man is he, who reaches to me The first pledge of my fortune.

ILLO.

And doubt not That his example will win over to you The best men in the army.

WALLENSTEIN.

Go and send Isolani hither. Send him immediately; He is under recent obligations to me: With him will I commence the trial. Go.

[Exit ILLO.]

WALLENSTEIN (turns himself round to the females).

Lo, there the mother with the darling daughter For once we'll have an interval of rest—Come! my heart yearns to live a cloudless hour In the beloved circle of my family.

COUNTESS.

'Tis long since we've been thus together, brother.

WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS aside).

Can she sustain the news? Is she prepared?

COUNTESS.

Not yet.

WALLENST.

Come here, my sweet girl! Seat thee by me. For there is a good spirit on thy lips. Thy mother praised to me thy ready skill; She says a voice of melody dwells in thee, Which doth enchant the soul. Now such a voice Will drive away from me the evil demon That beats his black wings close above my head.

DUCHESS.

Where is thy lute, my daughter? Let thy father Hear some small trial of thy skill.

THEKLA.

My mother! I—

DUCHESS.

Trembling? Come, collect thyself. Go, cheer father.

THEKLA.

O my mother! I—I cannot.

COUNTESS.

How, what is that, niece?

THEKLA (to the COUNTESS).

O spare me—sing—now—in this sore anxiety, Of the o'erburthen'd soul—to sing to him, Who is thrusting, even now, my mother headlong Into her grave.

DUCHESS.

How, Thekla! Humorsome! What! shall thy father have express'd a wish In vain?

COUNTESS.

Here is the lute.

THEKLA.

My God! how can I—

[The orchestra plays. During the ritornello THEKLA expresses in her gestures and countenance the struggle of her feelings; and at the moment that she should begin to sing, contracts herself together, as one shuddering, throws the instrument down, and retires abruptly.]

DUCHESS. My child! O she is ill—

WALLENSTEIN.

What ails the maiden? Say, is she often so?

COUNTESS.

Since then herself Has now betray'd it, I too must no longer Conceal it.

WALLENSTEIN.

What?

COUNTESS.

She loves him!

WALLENSTEIN.

Loves him! Whom?

COUNTESS.

Max does she love! Max Piccolomini. Hast thou ne'er noticed it? Nor yet my sister?

DUCHESS.

Was it this that lay so heavy on her heart? God's blessing on thee, my sweet child! Thou need'st Never take shame upon thee for thy choice.

COUNTESS.

This journey, if 'twere not thy aim, ascribe it To thine own self. Thou shouldst have chosen another To have attended her.

WALLENSTEIN.

And does he know it?

COUNTESS.

Yes, and he hopes to win her!

WALLENSTEIN. Hopes to win her! Is the boy mad?

COUNTESS.

Well—hear it from themselves.

WALLENST.

He thinks to carry off Duke Friedland's daughter! Ay?—The thought pleases me. The young man has no groveling spirit.

COUNTESS.

Since Such and such constant favor you have shown him—

WALLENST.

He chooses finally to be my heir. And true it is, I love the youth; yea, honor him. But must he therefore be my daughter's husband? Is it daughters only? Is it only children That we must show our favor by?

DUCHESS.

His noble disposition and his manners—

WALLENST.

Win him my heart, but not my daughter.

DUCHESS.

Then His rank, his ancestors—

WALLENSTETN.

Ancestors! What? He is a subject, and my son-in-law I will seek out upon the thrones of Europe.

DUCHESS.

O dearest Albrecht! Climb we not too high Lest we should fall too low.

WALLENSTEIN.

What! have I paid A price so heavy to ascend this eminence, And jut out high above the common herd, Only to close the mighty part I play In Life's great drama, with a common kinsman? Have I for this—

[Stops suddenly, repressing himself.]

She is the only thing That will remain behind of me on earth; And I will see a crown around her head, Or die in the attempt to place it there. I hazard all—all! and for this alone, To lift her into greatness—Yea, in this moment, in the which we are speaking—

[He recollects himself.]

And I must now, like a soft-hearted father, Couple together in good peasant-fashion The pair, that chance to suit each other's liking— And I must do it now, even now, when I Am stretching out the wreath that is to twine My full accomplish'd work—no! she is the jewel, Which I have treasured long, my last, my noblest, And 'tis my purpose not to let her from me For less than a king's sceptre.

DUCHESS.

O my husband! You're ever building, building to the clouds, Still building higher, and still higher building, And ne'er reflect that the poor narrow basis Cannot sustain the giddy tottering column.

WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS).

Have you announced the place of residence Which I have destined for her?

COUNTESS.

No! not yet. 'Twere better you yourself disclosed it to her.

DUCHESS.

How? Do we not return to Carinthia then?

WALLENSTEIN.

No.

DUCHESS.

And to no other of your lands or seats?

WALLENST.

You would not be secure there.

DUCHESS.

Not secure In the Emperor's realms, beneath the Emperor's Protection?

WALLENSTEIN.

Friedland's wife may be permitted No longer to hope that.

DUCHESS.

O God in heaven! And have you brought it even to this!

WALLENSTEIN.

In Holland You'll find protection.

DUCHESS.

In a Lutheran country? What? And you send us into Lutheran countries?

WALLENST.

Duke Franz of Lauenburg conducts you thither.

DUCHESS.

Duke Franz of Lauenburg? The ally of Sweden, the Emperor's enemy.

WALLENST.

The Emperor's enemies are mine no longer.

DUCHESS (casting a look of terror on the DUKE and the COUNTESS).

Is it then true? It is. You are degraded— Deposed from the command! O God in heaven!

COUNTESS (aside to the DUKE).

Leave her in this belief. Thou seest she cannot Support the real truth.

SCENE V

To them enter COUNT TERZKY.

COUNTESS.

—Terzky! What ails him? What an image of affright! He looks as he had seen a ghost.

TERZKY (leading WALLENSTEIN aside).

Is it thy command that all the Croats—

WALLENSTEIN.

Mine.

TERZKY.

We are betray'd.

WALLENSTEIN.

What?

TERZKY.

They are off! This night The Jaegers likewise—all the villages In the whole round are empty.

WALLENSTEIN.

Isolani!

TERZKY.

Him thou hast sent away. Yes, surely.

WALLENSTEIN.

I?

TERZKY.

No! Hast thou not sent him off? Nor Deodati? They are vanish'd both of them.

SCENE VI

To them enter ILLO.

ILLO.

Has Terzky told thee?

TERZKY.

He knows all.

ILLO.

And likewise That Esterhatzy, Goetz, Maradas, Kaunitz, Kolalto, Palfi, have forsaken thee.

TERZKY.

Damnation!

WALLENSTEIN (winks at them).

Hush!

COUNTESS (who has been watching them anxiously from the distance and now advances to them).

Terzky! Heaven! What is it? What has happen'd?

WALLENSTEIN (scarcely suppressing his emotions).

Nothing! let us be gone!

TERZKY (following him).

Theresa, it is nothing.

COUNTESS (holding him back).

Nothing? Do I not see that all the life-blood Has left your cheeks—look you not like a ghost? That even my brother but affects a calmness?

PAGE (enters).

An Aide-de-camp inquires for the Count Terzky.

[TERZKY follows the PAGE.]

WALLENST. Go, hear his business.

[To ILLO.]

This could not have happen'd So unsuspected without mutiny. Who was on guard at the gates?

ILLO.

'Twas Tiefenbach.

WALLENST.

Let Tiefenbach leave guard without delay, And Terzky's grenadiers relieve him.

[ILLO is going.]

Stop! Hast thou heard aught of Butler?

ILLO.

Him I met;

He will be here himself immediately. Butler remains unshaken.

[ILLO exit. WALLENSTEIN is following him.]

COUNTESS.

Let him not leave thee, sister! go, detain him! There's some misfortune.

DUCHESS (clinging to him).

Gracious Heaven! What is it?

WALLENST.

Be tranquil! leave me, sister! dearest wife! We are in camp, and this is nought unusual; Here storm and sunshine follow one another With rapid interchanges. These fierce spirits Champ the curb angrily, and never yet Did quiet bless the temples of the leader. If I am to stay, go you. The plaints of women Ill suit the scene where men must act.

[He is going. TERZHY returns.]

TERZHY.

Remain here. From this window must we see it.

WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS).

Sister, retire!

COUNTESS.

No—never.

WALLENSTEIN.

'Tis my will.

TERZKY (leads the COUNTESS aside, and drawing her attention to the DUCHESS).

Theresa?

DUCHESS.

Sister, come! since he commands it.

SCENE VII

WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY

WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the window).

What now, then?

TERZKY.

There are strange movements among all the troops, And no one knows the cause. Mysteriously, With gloomy silentness, the several corps Marshal themselves, each under its own banners. Tiefenbach's corps make threat'ning movements; only The Pappenheimers still remain aloof In their own quarters, and let no one enter.

WALLENST.

Does Piccolomini appear among them?

TERZKY.

We are seeking him: he is nowhere to be met with.

WALLENST.

What did the Aide-de-camp deliver to you?

TERZKY.

My regiments had dispatch'd him; yet once more They swear fidelity to thee, and wait The shout for onset, all prepared, and eager.

WALLENST.

But whence arose this larum in the camp? It should have been kept secret from the army, Till fortune had decided for us at Prague.

TERZKY.

O that thou hadst believed me! Yester evening Did we conjure thee not to let that skulker, That fox, Octavio, pass the gates of Pilsen. Thou gavest him thy own horses to flee from thee.

WALLENST.

The old tune still! Now, once for all, no more Of this suspicion—it is doting folly.

TERZKY.

Thou didst confide in Isolani too; And lo! he was the first that did desert thee.

WALLENST.

It was but yesterday I rescued him From abject wretchedness. Let that go by; I never reckon'd yet on gratitude. And wherein doth he wrong in going from me? He follows still the god whom all his life He has worship'd at the gaming-table. With My fortune, and my seeming destiny, He made the bond, and broke it not with me. I am but the ship in which his hopes were stow'd And with the which, well-pleased and confident, He traversed the open sea; now he beholds it In eminent jeopardy among the coast-rocks, And hurries to preserve his wares. As light As the free bird from the hospitable twig Where it had nested, he flies off from me: No human tie is snapp'd betwixt us two. Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived Who seeks a heart in the unthinking man. Like shadows on a stream, the forms of life Impress their characters on the smooth forehead, Nought sinks into the bosom's silent depth; Quick sensibility of pain and pleasure Moves the light fluids lightly; but no soul Warmeth the inner frame.

TERZKY.

Yet, would I rather Trust the smooth brow than that deep furrow'd one.

SCENE VIII

WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, ILLO

ILLO (who enters agitated with rage).

Treason and mutiny!

TERZKY.

And what further now?

ILLO.

Tiefenbach's soldiers, when I gave the orders, To go off guard—Mutinous villains!

TERZKY.

Well!

WALLENST.

What followed?

ILLO.

They refused obedience to them.

TERZKY.

Fire on them instantly! Give out the order.

WALLENST.

Gently! what cause did they assign?

ILLO.

No other, They said, had right to issue orders but Lieutenant-General Piccolomini.

WALLENSTEIN (in a convulsion of agony).

What? How is that?

ILLO.

He takes that office on him by commission, Under sign-manual of the Emperor.

TERZKY.

From the Emperor—hear'st thou, Duke?

ILLO.

At his incitement The Generals made that stealthy flight—

TERZKY.

Duke! hear'st thou?

ILLO.

Caraffa too, and Montecuculi, Are missing, with six other generals, All whom he had induced to follow him. This plot he has long had in writing by him From the Emperor; but 'twas finally concluded, With all the detail of the operation, Some days ago with the Envoy Questenberg.

[WALLENSTEIN sinks down into a chair and covers his face.]

TERZKY.

O hadst thou but believed me!

SCENE IX

To them enter the COUNTESS

COUNTESS.

This suspense, This horrid fear—I can no longer bear it. For heaven's sake tell me what has taken place?

ILLO.

The regiments are all falling off from us.

TERZKY.

Octavio Piccolomini is a traitor.

COUNTESS.

O my foreboding! [Rushes out of the room.]

TERZKY.

Hadst thou but believed me! Now seest thou how the stars have lied to thee.



WALLENST.

The stars lie not; but we have here a work Wrought counter to the stars and destiny. The science is still honest: this false heart Forces a lie on the truth-telling heaven. On a divine law divination rests; Where nature deviates from that law, and stumbles Out of her limits, there all science errs. True I did not suspect! Were it superstition Never by such suspicion t' have affronted The human form, O may that time ne'er come In which I shame me of the infirmity. The wildest savage drinks not with the victim, Into whose breast he means to plunge the sword. This, this, Octavio, was no hero's deed: 'Twas not thy prudence that did conquer mine; A bad heart triumph'd o'er an honest one. No shield received the assassin stroke; thou plungest Thy weapon on an unprotected breast— Against such weapons I am but a child.



SCENE X

To these enter BUTLER

TERZKY (meeting him).

O look there! Butler! Here we've still a friend!

WALLENSTEIN (meets him with outspread arms, and embraces him with warmth).

Come to my heart, old comrade! Not the sun Looks out upon us more revivingly In the earliest month of spring, Than a friend's countenance in such an hour.

BUTLER.

My General: I come—

WALLENSTEIN (leaning on BUTLER's shoulder).

Know'st thou already? That old man has betray'd me to the Emperor. What say'st thou? Thirty years have we together Lived out, and held out, sharing joy and hardship. We have slept in one camp-bed, drunk from one glass, One morsel shared! I lean'd myself on him, As now I lean me on thy faithful shoulder. And now in the very moment, when, all love, All confidence, my bosom beat to his, He sees and takes the advantage, stabs the knife Slowly into my heart.

[He hides his face on BUTLER'S breast.]

BUTLER.

Forget the false one. What is your present purpose?

WALLENSTEIN.

Well remember'd! Courage, my soul! I am still rich in friends, Still loved by Destiny; for in the moment That it unmasks the plotting hypocrite, It sends and proves to me one faithful heart. Of the hypocrite no more! Think not his loss Was that which struck the pang: O no! his treason Is that which strikes this pang! No more of him! Dear to my heart and honor'd were they both, And the young man—yes—he did truly love me, He—he—has not deceived me. But enough, Enough of this—swift counsel now beseems us. The Courier, whom Count Kinsky sent from Prague, I expect him every moment: and whatever He may bring with him, we must take good care To keep it from the mutineers. Quick then! Dispatch some messenger you can rely on To meet him and conduct him to me.

[ILLO is going.]

BUTLER (detaining him).

My General, whom expect you then?

WALLENSTEIN.

The Courier Who brings me word of the event at Prague.

BUTLER (hesitating).

Hem!

WALLENST.

And what now?

BUTLER.

You do not know it?

WALLENSTEIN.

Well?

BUTLER.

From what that larum in the camp arose?

WALLENST.

From what?

BUTLER.

That Courier—

WALLENSTEIN (with eager expectation).

Well?

BUTLER.

Is already here.

TERZKY and ILLO (at the same time).

Already here?

WALLENSTEIN.

My Courier?

BUTLER.

For some hours.

WALLENST.

And I not know it?

BUTLER.

The sentinels detained him In custody.

ILLO (stamping with his foot). Damnation!

BUTLER.

And his letter Was broken open, and is circulated Through the whole camp.

WALLENSTEIN.

You know what it contains?

BUTLER.

Question me not!

TERZKY.

Illo, alas for us!

WALLENST.

Hide nothing from me—I can hear the worst. Prague then is lost? It is! Confess it freely.

BUTLER.

Yes! Prague is lost. And all the several regiments At Budweiss, Tabor, Braunau, Koenigingratz, At Brunn and Zanaym, have forsaken you, And ta'en oaths of fealty anew To the Emperor. Yourself, with Kinsky, Terzky, And Illo have been sentenced.

[TERZKY and ILLO express alarm and fury. WALLENSTEIN remains firm and collected.]

WALLENSTEIN.

'Tis decided! 'Tis well! I have received a sudden cure From all the pangs of doubt: with steady stream Once more my life-blood flows! My soul's secure! In the night only Friedland's stars can beam. Lingering irresolute, with fitful fears I drew the sword—'twas with an inward strife, While yet the choice was mine. The murderous knife Is lifted for my heart! Doubt disappears! I fight now for my head and for my life.

[Exit WALLENSTEIN; the others follow him.]

SCENE XI

COUNTESS TERZKY (enters from a side room).

I can endure no longer. No!

[Looks around her.]

Where are they! No one is here. They leave me all alone, Alone in this sore anguish of suspense. And I must wear the outward show of calmness Before my sister, and shut in within me The pangs and agonies of my crowded bosom. It is not to be borne. If all should fail; If—if he must go over to the Swedes, An empty-handed fugitive, and not As an ally, a covenanted equal, A proud commander with his army following, If we must wander on from land to land, Like the Count Palatine, of fallen greatness An ignominious monument! But no! That day I will not see! And could himself Endure to sink so low, I would not bear To see him so low sunken.

SCENE XII

COUNTESS, DUCHESS, THEKLA

THEKLA (endeavoring to hold back the DUCHESS).

Dear mother, do stay here!

DUCHESS.

No! Here is yet Some frightful mystery that is hidden from me. Why does my sister shun me? Don't I see her Full of suspense and anguish roam about From room to room? Art thou not full of terror? And what import these silent nods and gestures Which stealthwise thou exchangest with her?

THEKLA.

Nothing: Nothing, dear mother!

DUCHESS (to the COUNTESS).

Sister, I will know.

COUNTESS.

What boots it now to hide it from her? Sooner Or later she must learn to hear and bear it. 'Tis not the time now to indulge infirmity; Courage beseems us now, a heart collect, And exercise and previous discipline Of fortitude. One word, and over with it! Sister, you are deluded. You believe The Duke has been deposed—the Duke is not Deposed—he is—

THEKLA (going to the COUNTESS).

What? do you wish to kill her?

COUNTESS.

The Duke is—

THEKLA (throwing her arms round her mother).

O stand firm; stand firm, my mother!

COUNTESS.

Revolted is the Duke; he is preparing To join the enemy; the army leave him, And all has fail'd.

SCENE XIII

A spacious Room in the Duke of Friedland's Palace.

WALLENSTEIN (in armor).

Thou hast gain'd thy point, Octavio! Once more am I Almost as friendless as at Regensburg. There I had nothing left me, but myself; But what one man can do, you have now experience. The twigs have you hew'd off, and here I stand A leafless trunk. But in the sap within Lives the creating power, and a new world May sprout forth from it. Once already have I Proved myself worth an army to you—I alone! Before the Swedish strength your troops had melted; Beside the Lech sank Tilly your last hope; Into Bavaria like a winter torrent, Did that Gustavus pour, and at Vienna In his own palace did the Emperor tremble. Soldiers were scarce, for still the multitude Follow the luck: all eyes were turn'd on me, Their helper in distress: the Emperor's pride Bow'd itself down before the man he had injured. 'Twas I must rise, and with creative word Assemble forces in the desolate camps. I did it. Like a god of war, my name Went through the world. The drum was beat; and, lo, The plough, the workshop is forsaken, all Swarm to the old familiar long-loved banners; And as the wood-choir rich in melody Assemble quick around the bird of wonder, When first his throat swells with his magic song, So did the warlike youth of Germany Crowd in around the image of my eagle. I feel myself the being that I was. It is the soul that builds itself a body, And Friedland's camp will not remain unfill'd. Lead then your thousands out to meet me—true! They are accustom'd under me to conquer, But not against me. If the head and limbs Separate from each other, 'twill be soon Made manifest in which the soul abode.

(ILLO and TERZKY enter)

Courage, friends! courage! we are still unvanquish'd! I feel my footing firm; five regiments, Terzky, Are still our own, and Butler's gallant troops; And an host of sixteen thousand Swedes to-morrow. I was not stronger when, nine years ago, I marched forth, with glad heart and high of hope, To conquer Germany for the Emperor.

SCENE XIV

WALLENSTEIN, ILLO, TERZKY

(To them enter NEUMANN, who leads TERZKY aside and talks with him.)

TERZKY.

What do they want?

WALLENSTEIN.

What now!

TERZKY.

Ten Cuirassiers From Pappenheim request leave to address you In the name of the regiment.

WALLENSTEIN (hastily to NEUMANN).

Let them enter.

[Exit NEUMANN.]

This May end in something. Mark you. They are still Doubtful, and may be won.

SCENE XV

WALLENSTEIN, TERZBY, ILLO, ten Cuirassiers (led by an ANSPESSADE,[27] march up and arrange themselves, after the word of command, in one front before the Duke, and make their obeisance. He takes his hat off and immediately covers himself again).

ANSPESS.

Halt! Front! Present!

WALLENSTEIN (after he has run through them with his eye, to the ANSPESSADE).

I know thee well. Thou art out of Brueggen in Flanders. Thy name is Mercy.

ANSPESS.

Henry Mercy.

WALLENST.

Thou wert cut off on the march, surrounded by the Hessians, and didst fight thy way with an hundred and eighty men through their thousand.

ANSPESS.

'Twas even so, General!

WALLENST.

What reward hadst thou for this gallant exploit?

ANSPESS.

That which I asked for: the honor to serve in this corps.

WALLENSTEIN (turning to a second).

Thou wert among the volunteers that seized and made booty of the Swedish battery at Altenburg.

2D CUIRAS.

Yes, General.

WALLENST.

I forget no one with whom I have exchanged words.

(A pause.)

Who sends you?

ANSPESS.

Your noble regiment, the Cuirassiers of Piccolomini.

WALLENST.

Why does not your colonel deliver in your request, according to the custom of service?

ANSPESS.

Because we would first know whom we serve.

WALLENST.

Begin your address.

ANSPESSADE (giving the word of command).

Shoulder your arms!

WALLENSTEIN (turning to a third).

Thy name is Risbeck; Cologne is thy birth-place.

3D CUIRAS.

Risbeck of Cologne.

WALLENST.

It was thou that broughtest in the Swedish colonel, Duebald, prisoner, in the camp at Nuremberg.

3D CUIRAS.

It was not I, General.

WALLENST.

Perfectly right! It was thy elder brother: thou hadst a younger brother too: Where did he stay?

3D CUIRAS.

He is stationed at Olmuetz, with the Imperial army.

WALLENSTEIN (to the ANSPESSADE).

Now then—begin.

ANSPESS.

There came to hand a letter from the Emperor Commanding us—

WALLENSTEIN (interrupting him).

Who chose you?

ANSPESSADE.

Every company Drew its own man by lot.

WALLENSTEIN.

Now to the business.

ANSPESS.

There came to hand a letter from the Emperor Commanding us collectively, from thee All duties of obedience to withdraw, Because thou wert an enemy and traitor.

WALLENST.

And what did you determine?

ANSPESSADE.

All our comrades At Braunau, Budweiss, Prague and Olmuetz, have Obey'd already; and the regiments here, Tiefenbach and Toscano, instantly Did follow their example. But—but we Do not believe that thou art an enemy And traitor to thy country, hold it merely For lie and trick and a trumped-up Spanish story!

[With warmth.]

Thyself shalt tell us what thy purpose is, For we have found thee still sincere and true: No mouth shall interpose itself betwixt The gallant General and the gallant troops.

WALLENST.

Therein I recognize my Pappenheimers.

ANSPESS.

And this proposal makes thy regiment to thee. Is it thy purpose merely to preserve In thine own hands this military sceptre, Which so becomes thee, which the Emperor Made over to thee by a covenant? Is it thy purpose merely to remain Supreme commander of the Austrian armies?— We will stand by thee, General! and guarantee Thy honest rights against all opposition. And should it chance that all the other regiments Turn from thee, by ourselves will we stand forth Thy faithful soldiers, and, as is our duty, Far rather let ourselves be cut to pieces Than suffer thee to fall. But if it be As the Emperor's letter says, if it be true, That thou in traitorous wise wilt lead us over To the enemy, which God in heaven forbid! Then we too will forsake thee, and obey That letter—

WALLENSTEIN.

Hear me, children!

ANSPESSADE.

Yes, or no! There needs no other answer.

WALLENSTEIN.

Yield attention. You're men of sense, examine for yourselves; Ye think, and do not follow with the herd And therefore have I always shown you honor Above all others, suffer'd you to reason; Have treated you as free men, and my orders Were but the echoes of your prior suffrage.—

ANSPESS.

Most fair and noble has thy conduct been To us, my General! With thy confidence Thou hast honor'd us, and shown us grace and favor Beyond all other regiments; and thou seest We follow not the common herd. We will Standby thee faithfully. Speak but one word— Thy word shall satisfy us, that it is not A treason which thou meditatest—that Thou meanest not to lead the army over To the enemy, nor e'er betray the country.

WALLENST.

Me, me are they betraying. The Emperor Hath sacrificed me to my enemies, And I must fall, unless my gallant troops Will rescue me. See! I confide in you. And be your hearts my stronghold! At this breast The aim is taken, at this hoary head. This is your Spanish gratitude, this is our Requital for that murderous fight at Luetzen! For this we threw the naked breast against The halbert, made for this the frozen earth Our bed, and the hard stone our pillow! never stream Too rapid for us, nor wood too impervious; With cheerful spirit we pursued that Mansfeldt Through all the turns and windings of his flight: Yea, our whole life was but one restless march: And homeless, as the stirring wind, we travel'd O'er the war-wasted earth. And now, even now, That we have well-nigh finish'd the hard toil, The unthankful, the curse-laden toil of weapons, With faithful indefatigable arm Have roll'd the heavy war-load up the hill, Behold! this boy of the Emperor's bears away The honors of the peace, an easy prize! He'll weave, forsooth, into his flaxen locks The olive branch, the hard-earn'd ornament Of this gray head, grown gray beneath the helmet.

ANSPESS.

That shall he not, while we can hinder it! No one, but thou, who hast conducted it With fame, shall end this war, this frightful war. Thou leddest us out to the bloody field Of death; thou and no other shalt conduct us home, Rejoicing, to the lovely plains of peace— Shalt share with us the fruits of the long toil—

WALLENST.

What! Think you then at length in late old age To enjoy the fruits of toil? Believe it not. Never, no never, will you see the end Of the contest! you and me, and all of us, This war will swallow up! War, war, not peace, Is Austria's wish; and therefore, because I Endeavor'd after peace, therefore I fall, For what cares Austria how long the war Wears out the armies and lays waste the world! She will but wax and grow amid the ruin And still win new domains.

[The Cuirassiers express agitation by their gestures.]

Ye're moved—I see A noble rage flash from your eyes, ye warriors! Oh that my spirit might possess you now Daring as once it led you to the battle! Ye would stand by me with your veteran arms, Protect me in my rights; and this is noble! But think not that you can accomplish it, Your scanty number! to no purpose will you Have sacrificed you for your General.

[Confidentially.]

No! let us tread securely, seek for friends; The Swedes have proffer'd us assistance, let us Wear for a while the appearance of good will, And use them for your profit, till we both Carry the fate of Europe in our hands, And from our camp to the glad jubilant world Lead Peace forth with the garland on her head!

ANSPESS.

'Tis then but mere appearances which thou Dost put on with the Swede! Thou'lt not betray The Emperor? Wilt not turn us into Swedes? This is the only thing which we desire To learn from thee.

WALLENSTEIN.

What care I for the Swedes? I hate them as I hate the pit of hell, And under Providence I trust right soon To chase them to their homes across their Baltic. My cares are only for the whole: I have A heart—it bleeds within me for the miseries And piteous groaning of my fellow Germans. Ye are but common men, but yet ye think With minds not common; ye appear to me Worthy before all others that I whisper ye A little word or two in confidence! See now! already for full fifteen years, The war-torch has continued burning, yet No rest, no pause of conflict. Swede and German, Papist and Lutheran! neither will give way To the other, every hand's against the other. Each one is party and no one a judge. Where shall this end? Where's he that will unravel This tangle, ever tangling more and more; It must be cut asunder; I feel that I am the man of destiny, And trust, with your assistance, to accomplish it.

SCENE XVI

To these enter BUTLER

BUTLER (passionately).

General! This is not right!

WALLENSTEIN.

What is not right?

BUTLER.

It must needs injure us with all honest men.

WALLENST.

But What?

BUTLER.

It is an open proclamation Of insurrection.

WALLENSTEIN.

Well, well—but what is it?

BUTLER.

Count Terzky's regiments tear the Imperial Eagle From off the banners, and instead of it Have rear'd aloft their arms.

ANSPESSADE (abruptly to the Cuirassiers).

Right about! March!

WALLENST.

Cursed be this counsel, and accursed who gave it!

[To the Cuirassiers, who are retiring.]

Halt, children, halt! There's some mistake in this; Hark!—I will punish it severely. Stop! They do not hear. (To ILLO.) Go after them, assure them, And bring them back to me, cost what it may.

[ILLO hurries out.]

This hurls us headlong. Butler! Butler! You are my evil genius! Wherefore must you Announce it in their presence? It was all In a fair way. They were half won! those madmen With their improvident over-readiness— cruel game is Fortune playing with me. The zeal of friends it is that razes me, And not the hate of enemies.

SCENE XVII

To these enter the DUCHESS, who rushes into the Chamber THEKLA and the COUNTESS follow her.

DUCHESS.

O Albrecht! What hast thou done?

WALLENSTEIN.

And now comes this beside.

COUNTESS.

Forgive me, brother! It was not in my power— They know all.

DUCHESS.

What hast thou done?

COUNTESS (to TERZKY).

Is there no hope? Is all lost utterly?

TERZKY.

All lost. No hope. Prague in the Emperor's hands, The soldiery have ta'en their oaths anew.

COUNTESS.

That lurking hypocrite, Octavio! Count Max is off too.

TERZKY.

Where can he be? He's Gone over to the Emperor with his father.

[THEKLA rushes out into the arms of her mother, hiding her face in her bosom.]

DUCHESS (enfolding her in her arms).

Unhappy child! and more unhappy mother!

WALLENSTEIN (aside to TERZKY).

Quick! Let a carriage stand in readiness In the court behind the palace. Scherfenberg Be their attendant; he is faithful to us; To Egra he'll conduct them, and we follow.

[To ILLO, who returns.]

Thou hast not brought them back?

ILLO.

Hear'st thou the uproar? The whole corps of the Pappenheimers is Drawn out: the younger Piccolomini, Their colonel, they require: for they affirm That he is in the palace here, a prisoner; And if thou dost not instantly deliver him, They will find means to free him with the sword.

[All stand amazed.]

TERZKY.

What shall we make of this?

WALLENSTEIN.

Said I not so? O my prophetic heart! he is still here. He has not betray'd me—he could not betray me. I never doubted of it.

COUNTESS.

If he be Still here, then all goes well; for I know what

[Embracing THEKLA]

Will keep him here forever.

TERZKY.

It can't be. His father has betray'd us, is gone over To the Emperor—the son could not have ventured To stay behind.

THEKLA (her eyes fixed on the door).

There he is!

SCENE XVIII

To these enter MAX PICCOLOMINI

MAX.

Yes! here he is! I can endure no longer To creep on tiptoe round this house, and lurk In ambush for a favorable moment: This loitering, this suspense exceeds my powers.

[Advancing to THEKLA, who has thrown herself into her mother's arms.]

Turn not thine eyes away. O look upon me! Confess it freely before all. Fear no one. Let who will hear that we both love each other; Wherefore continue to conceal it? Secrecy Is for the happy—misery, hopeless misery, Needeth no veil! Beneath a thousand suns It dares act openly.

[He observes the COUNTESS looking on THEKLA with expressions of triumph.]

No, Lady! No! Expect not, hope it not. I am not come To stay: to bid farewell, farewell forever. For this I come! 'Tis over! I must leave thee! Thekla, I must—must leave thee! Yet thy hatred Let me not take with me. I pray thee, grant me One look of sympathy, only one look. Say that thou dost not hate me. Say it to me, Thekla!

[Grasps her hand.]

O God! I cannot leave this spot—I cannot! Cannot let go this hand. O tell me, Thekla! That thou dost suffer with me, art convinced That I cannot act otherwise.

[THEKLA, avoiding his look, points with her hand to her father. MAX turns round to the Duke, whom he had not till then perceived.]

Thou here? It was not thou whom here I sought. I trusted never more to have beheld thee. My business is with her alone. Here will I Receive a full acquittal from this heart— For any other I am no more concern'd.

WALLENST.

Think'st thou that, fool-like, I shall let thee go, And act the mock-magnanimous with thee? Thy father is become a villain to me; I hold thee for his son, and nothing more: Nor to no purpose shalt thou have been given Into my power. Think not that I will honor That ancient love, which so remorselessly He mangled. They are now past by, those hours Of friendship and forgiveness. Hate and vengeance Succeed—'tis now their turn—I too can throw All feelings of the man aside—can prove Myself as much a monster as thy father!

MAX. (calmly).

Thou wilt proceed with me, as thou hast power. Thou know'st, I neither brave nor fear thy rage. What has detain'd me here, that too thou know'st.

[Taking THEKLA by the hand.]

See, Duke! All—all would I have owed to thee, Would have received from thy paternal hand The lot of blessed spirits. This hast thou Laid waste forever—that concerns not thee; Indifferent thou tramplest in the dust Their happiness who most are thine. The god Whom thou dost serve is no benignant deity Like as the blind, irreconcilable, Fierce element, incapable of compact, Thy heart's wild impulse only dost thou follow.[28]

WALLENST.

Thou art describing thy own father's heart. The adder! O, the charms of hell o'erpowered me; He dwelt within me, to my inmost soul Still to and fro he pass'd, suspected never On the wide ocean, in the starry heaven Did mine eyes seek the enemy, whom I In my heart's heart had folded! Had I been To Ferdinand what Octavio was to me, War had I ne'er denounced against him. No, I never could have done it. The Emperor was My austere master only, not my friend. There was already war 'twixt him and me When he deliver'd the Commander's Staff Into my hands; for there's a natural, Unceasing war 'twixt cunning and suspicion; Peace exists only betwixt confidence And faith. Who poisons confidence, he murders The future generations.

MAX.

I will not Defend my father. Woe is me, I cannot! Hard deeds and luckless have ta'en place; one crime Drags after it the other in close link. But we are innocent: how have we fallen Into this circle of mishap and guilt? To whom have we been faithless? Wherefore must The evil deeds and guilt reciprocal Of our two fathers twine like serpents round us? Why must our fathers' Unconquerable hate rend us asunder, Who love each other?

WALLENSTEIN.

Max, remain with me. Go you not from me, Max! Hark! I will tell thee— How when at Prague, our winter quarters, thou Wert brought into my tent a tender boy, Not yet accustom'd to the German winters; Thy hand was frozen to the heavy colors; Thou wouldst not let them go.— At that time did I take thee in my arms, And with my mantle did I cover thee; I was thy nurse, no woman could have been A kinder to thee; I was not ashamed To do for thee all little offices, However strange to me; I tended thee Till life return'd; and when thine eyes first open'd, I had thee in my arms. Since then, when have Alter'd my feelings toward thee? Many thousands Have I made rich, presented them with lands; Rewarded them with dignities and honors; Thee have I loved: my heart, my self, I gave To thee! They all were aliens: THOU went Our child and inmate.[29] Max! Thou cans't not leave me; It cannot be; I may not, will not think That Max can leave me.

MAX.

O my God!

WALLENSTEIN.

I have Held and sustain'd thee from thy tottering childhood; What holy bond is there of natural love, What human tie, that does not knit thee to me? I love thee, Max! What did thy father for thee, Which I too have not done, to the height of duty? Go hence, forsake me, serve thy Emperor; He will reward thee with a pretty chain Of gold; with his ram's fleece will he reward thee; For that the friend, the father of thy youth, For that the holiest feeling of humanity, Was nothing worth to thee.

MAX.

O God! how can I Do otherwise? Am I not forced to do it? My oath—my duty—my honor—

WALLENSTEIN.

How? Thy duty? Duty to whom? Who art thou? Max! bethink thee What duties mayst thou have? If I am acting A criminal part toward the Emperor, It is my crime, not thine. Dost thou belong To thine own self? Art thou thine own commander? Stand'st thou, like me, a freeman in the world, That in thy actions thou shouldst plead free agency? On me thou'rt planted, I am thy Emperor; To obey me, to belong to me, this is Thy honor, this a law of nature to thee! And if the planet, on the which thou livest And hast thy dwelling, from its orbit starts, It is not in thy choice whether or no Thou'lt follow it. Unfelt it whirls thee onward Together with his ring, and all his moons. With little guilt stepp'st thou into this contest, Thee will the world not censure, it will praise thee, For that thou held'st thy friend more worth to thee Than names and influences more removed; For justice is the virtue of the ruler, Affection and fidelity the subject's. Not every one doth it beseem to question The far-off high Arcturus. Most securely Wilt thou pursue the nearest duty: let The pilot fix his eye upon the pole-star.

SCENE XIX

To these enter NEUMANN

WALLENST.

What now?

NEUMANN.

The Pappenheimers are dismounted, And are advancing now on foot, determined With sword in hand to storm the house, and free The Count, their colonel.

WALLENSTEIN (to TERZKY).

Have the cannon planted. I will receive them with chain-shot.

[Exit TERZKY

Prescribe to me with sword in hand! Go, Neumann, 'Tis my command that they retreat this moment, And in their ranks in silence wait my pleasure.

[NEUMANN exit. ILLO steps to the window.]

COUNTESS. Let him go, I entreat thee, let him go.

ILLO (at the window).

Hell and perdition!

WALLENSTEIN.

What is it?

ILLO. They scale the council-house, the roof's uncovered, They level at this house the cannon—

MAX.

Madmen!

ILLO.

They are making preparations now to fire on us.

DUCHESS and COUNTESS. Merciful heaven!

MAX (to WALLENSTEIN).

Let me go to them!

WALLENSTEIN.

Not a step!

MAX (pointing to THEKLA and the DUCHESS).

But their life! Thine!

WALLENSTEIN.

What tidings bring'st thou, Terzky?

SCENE XX

To these TERZKY returning

TERZKY.

Message and greeting from our faithful regiments. Their ardor may no longer be curb'd in. They entreat permission to commence the attack; And if thou wouldst but give the word of onset, They could now charge the enemy in rear, Into the city wedge them, and with ease O'erpower them in the narrow streets.

ILLO.

O come! Let not their ardor cool. The soldiery Of Butler's corps stand by us faithfully; We are the greater number. Let us charge them, And finish here in Pilsen the revolt.

WALLENST.

What? shall this town become a field of slaughter, And brother-killing Discord, fire-eyed, Be let loose through its streets to roam and rage? Shall the decision be deliver'd over To deaf remorseless Rage, that hears no leader? Here is not room for battle, only for butchery. Well, let it be! I have long thought of it, So let it burst them!

[Turns to MAX.]

Well, how is it with thee? Wilt thou attempt a heat with me? Away! Thou art free to go. Oppose thyself to me, Front against front, and lead them to the battle; Thou'rt skill'd in war, thou hast learn'd somewhat under me, I need not be ashamed of my opponent, And never hadst thou fairer opportunity To pay me for thy schooling.

COUNTESS.

Is it then, Can it have come to this?—What! Cousin, cousin! Have you the heart?

MAX.

The regiments that are trusted to my care I have pledged my troth to bring away from Pilsen True to the Emperor; and this promise will I Make good, or perish. More than this no duty Requires of me. I will not fight against thee, Unless compell'd; for though an enemy, Thy head is holy to me still.

[Two reports of cannon. ILLO and TERZKY hurry to the window.]

WALLENST.

What's that?

TERZKY.

He falls.

WALLENSTEIN.

Falls! Who?

ILLO.

Tiefenbach's corps Discharged the ordnance.

WALLENSTEIN.

Upon whom?

ILLO.

On Neumann, Your messenger.

WALLENSTEIN (starting up).

Ha! Death and hell! I will—

TERZKY.

Expose thyself to their blind frenzy?

DUCHESS and COUNTESS.

No! For God's sake, no!

ILLO.

Not yet, my General O hold him! hold him!

WALLENSTEIN.

Leave me.

MAX.

Do it not; Not yet! This rash and bloody deed has thrown them Into a frenzy-fit—allow them time—

WALLENST.

Away! too long already have I loiter'd. They are emboldened to these outrages, Beholding not my face. They shall behold My countenance, shall hear my voice— Are they not my troops? Am I not their General, And their long-fear'd commander? Let me see Whether indeed they do no longer know That countenance, which was their sun in battle! From the balcony (mark!) I show myself To these rebellious forces, and at once Revolt is mounded, and the high-swoln current Shrinks back into the old bed of obedience.

[Exit WALLENSTEIN; ILLO, TERZKY, and BUTLER follow.]

SCENE XXI

COUNTESS, DUCHESS, MAX and THEKLA

COUNTESS (to the DUCHESS).

Let them but see him—there is hope still, sister.

DUCHESS.

Hope! I have none!

MAX (who during the last scene has been standing at a distance, in a visible struggle of feelings, advances).

This can I not endure. With most determined soul did I come hither; My purposed action seem'd unblamable To my own conscience—and I must stand here Like one abhorr'd, a hard inhuman being: Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love! Must see all whom I love in this sore anguish, Whom I with one word can make happy—O! My heart revolts within me, and two voices Make themselves audible within my bosom. My soul's benighted; I no longer can Distinguish the right track. O, well and truly Didst thou say, father, I relied too much On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro— know not what to do.

COUNTESS.

What! you know not? Does not your own heart tell you? O! then I Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor, A frightful traitor to us—he has plotted Against our General's life, has plunged us all In misery—and you're his son! 'Tis yours To make the amends—Make you the son's fidelity Outweigh the father's treason, that the name Of Piccolomini be not a proverb Of infamy, a common form of cursing To the posterity of Wallenstein.

MAX.

Where is that voice of truth which I dare follow! It speaks no longer in my heart. We all But utter what our passionate wishes dictate: O that an angel would descend from heaven, And scoop for me the right, the uncorrupted, With a pure hand from the pure fount of Light!

[His eyes glance on THEKLA.]

What other angel seek I? To this heart, To this unerring heart, will I submit it; Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless The happy man alone, averted ever From the disquieted and guilty—canst thou Still love me, if I stay? Say that thou canst, And I am the Duke's—

COUNTESS.

Think, niece—

MAX.

Think, nothing, Thekla! Speak what thou feelest.

COUNTESS.

Think upon your father.

MAX.

I did not question thee, as Friedland's daughter. Thee, the beloved and the unerring god Within thy heart, I question. What's at stake? Not whether diadem of royalty Be to be won or not—that mightst thou think on. Thy friend, and his soul's quiet, are at stake: The fortune of a thousand gallant men, Who will all follow me; shall I forswear My oath and duty to the Emperor? Say, shall I send into Octavio's camp The parricidal ball? For when the ball Has left its cannon, and is on its flight, It is no longer a dead instrument! It lives, a spirit passes into it, The avenging furies seize possession of it, And with sure malice guide it the worst way.

THEIKLA.

O! Max—

MAX (interrupting her).

Nay, not precipitately either, Thekla, I understand thee. To thy noble heart The hardest duty might appear the highest. The human, not the great part, would I act Even from my childhood to this present hour. Think what the Duke has done—for me, how loved me And think, too, how my father has repaid him. O likewise the free lovely impulses Of hospitality, the pious friend's Faithful attachment, these, too, are a holy Religion to the heart; and heavily The shudderings of nature do avenge Themselves on the barbarian that insults them. Lay all upon the balance, all—then speak, And let thy heart decide it.

THEKLA.

O, thy own Hath long ago decided. Follow thou Thy heart's first feeling—

COUNTESS.

Oh! ill-fated woman.

THEKLA.

Is it possible that that can be the right, The which thy tender heart did not at first Detect and seize with instant impulse? Go, Fulfil thy duty! I should ever love thee What'er thou hadst chosen, thou wouldst still have acted Nobly and worthy of thee—but repentance Shall ne'er disturb thy soul's fair peace.

MAX.

Then I Must leave thee, must part from thee!

THEKLA.

Being faithful To thine own self, thou art faithful, too, to me; If our fates part, our hearts remain united. A bloody hatred will divide forever The houses Piccolomini and Friedland; But we belong not to our houses. Go! Quick! quick! and separate thy righteous cause From our unholy and unblessed one! The curse of Heaven lies upon our head: 'Tis dedicate to ruin. Even me My father's guilt drags with it to perdition. Mourn not for me: My destiny will quickly be decided.

[MAX clasps her in his arms in extreme emotion. There is heard from behind the scenes a loud, wild, long continued cry, Vivat Ferdinandus! accompanied by warlike instruments. MAX and THEKLA remain without motion in each other's embraces.]

SCENE XXII

To the above enter TERZKY

COUNTESS (meeting him).

What meant that cry? What was it?

TERZKY.

All is lost!

COUNTESS.

What! they regarded not his countenance?

TERZKY.

'Twas all in vain.

DUCHESS.

They shouted Vivat!—

TERZKY.

To the Emperor.

COUNTESS.

The traitors!

TERZIBY.

Nay! he was not permitted Even to address them. Soon as he began, With deafening noise of warlike instruments They drown'd his words. But here he comes.

SCENE XXIII

To these enter WALLENSTEIN, accompanied by ILLO and BUTLER

WALLENSTEIN (as he enters).

Terzky!

TERZKY.

My General!

WALLENSTEIN.

Let our regiments hold themselves In readiness to march; for we shall leave Pilsen ere evening.

[Exit TERZKY.]

Butler!

BUTLER.

Yes, my General.

WALLENST.

The Governor of Egra is your friend And countryman. Write to him instantly By a post-courier. He must be advised, That we are with him early on the morrow. You follow us yourself, your regiment with you.

BUTLER.

It shall be done, my General!

WALLENSTEIN (steps between MAX and THEKLA, who have remained during this time in each other's arms).

Part!

MAX.

O God!

[Cuirassiers enter with drawn swords, and assemble in the background. At the same time there are heard from below some spirited passages out of the Pappenheim March, which seem to address MAX.]

WALLENSTEIN (to the Cuirassiers).

Here he is, he is at liberty: I keep him No longer.

[He turns away, and stands so that MAX cannot pass by him nor approach the PRINCESS.]

MAX.

Thou know'st that I have not yet learnt to live Without thee! I go forth into a desert, Leaving my all behind me. O do not turn Thine eyes away from me! O once more show me Thy ever dear and honor'd countenance!

[MAX attempts to take his hand, but is repelled; he turns to the COUNTESS.]

Is there no eye that has a look of pity for me?

[The COUNTESS turns away from him; he turns to the DUCHESS.]

My mother!

DUCHESS.

Go where duty calls you. Haply The time may come, when you may prove to us A true friend, a good angel at the throne Of the Emperor.

MAX.

You give me hope; you would not Suffer me wholly to despair. No! no! Mine is a certain misery. Thanks to Heaven! That offers me a means of ending it.

[The military music begins again. The stage fills more and more with armed men. MAX sees BUTLER and addresses him.]

And you here, Colonel Butler—and will you Not follow me? Well, then! remain more faithful To your new lord than you have proved yourself To the Emperor. Come, Butler! promise me, Give me your hand upon it, that you'll be The guardian of his life, its shield, its watchman. He is attainted, and his princely head Fair booty for each slave that trades in murder. Now he doth need the faithful eye of friendship, And those whom here I see—

[Casting suspicious looks on ILLO and BUTLER.]

ILLO.

Go—seek for traitors In Gallas', in your father's quarters. Here Is only one. Away! away! and free us From his detested sight! Away!

[MAX attempts once more to approach THEKLA. WALLENSTEIN prevents him. MAX stands irresolute, and in apparent anguish. In the mean time the stage fills more and more; and the horns sound from below louder and louder, and each time after a shorter interval.]

MAX.

Blow! blow! O were it but the Swedish trumpets, And all the naked swords, which I see here, Were plunged into my breast! What purpose you? You come to tear me from this place! Beware, Ye drive me not to desperation. Do it not! Ye may repent it!

[The stage is entirely filled with armed men.]

Yet more! weight upon weight to drag me down! Think what ye're doing. It is not well done To choose a man despairing for your leader; You tear me from my happiness. Well, then, I dedicate your souls to vengeance. Mark! For your own ruin you have chosen me: Who goes with me, must be prepared to perish.

[He turns to the background, there ensues a sudden and violent movement among the Cuirassiers; they surround him, and carry him off in wild tumult. WALLENSTEIN remains immovable. THEKLA sinks into her mother's arms. The curtain falls. The music becomes loud and overpowering, and passes into a complete war march—the orchestra joins it and continues during the interval between the second and third Act.]

ACT IV

SCENE I

The Burgomaster's House at Egra

BUTLER (just arrived).

Here then he is, by his destiny conducted. Here, Friedland! and no farther! From Bohemia Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile, And here upon the borders of Bohemia Must sink.

Thou hast foresworn the ancient colors, Blind man! yet trustest to thy ancient fortunes. Profaner of the altar and the hearth, Against thy Emperor and fellow citizens Thou mean'st to wage the war. Friedland, beware— The evil spirit of revenge impels thee— Beware thou, that revenge destroy thee not!

SCENE II

BUTLER and GORDON

GORDON.

Is it you? How my heart sinks! The Duke a fugitive traitor! His princely head attainted! O my God! [Tell me, General, I implore thee, tell me In full, of all these sad events at Pilsen.]

BUTLER.

You have received the letter which I sent you By a post-courier?

GORDON.

Yes: and in obedience to it Open'd the stronghold to him without scruple, For an imperial letter orders me To follow your commands implicitly. But yet forgive me! when even now I saw The Duke himself my scruples recommenced; For truly, not like an attainted man, Into this town did Friedland make his entrance; His wonted majesty beam'd from his brow, And calm, as in the days when all was right, Did he receive from me the accounts of office. 'Tis said that fallen pride learns condescension; But sparing and with dignity the Duke Weigh'd every syllable of approbation, As masters praise a servant who has done His duty and no more.

BUTLER.

'Tis all precisely As I related in my letter. Friedland Has sold the army to the enemy, And pledged himself to give up Prague and Egra. On this report the regiments all forsook him, The five excepted that belong to Terzky, And which have follow'd him, as thou hast seen The sentence of attainder is pass'd on him, And every loyal subject is required To give him in to justice, dead or living.

GORDON.

A traitor to the Emperor! Such a noble! Of such high talents! What is human greatness! I often said, this can't end happily. His might, his greatness, and his obscure power Are but a cover'd pit-fall. The human being May not be trusted to self-government. The clear and written law, the deep trod foot-marks Of ancient custom, are all necessary To keep him in the road of faith and duty. The authority intrusted to this man Was unexampled and unnatural, It placed him on a level with his Emperor, Till the proud soul unlearn'd submission. Woe is me! I mourn for him! for where he fell, I deem Might none stand firm. Alas! dear General, We in our lucky mediocrity Have ne'er experienced, cannot calculate, What dangerous wishes such a height may breed In the heart of such a man.

BUTLER.

Spare your laments Till he need sympathy; for at this present He is still mighty, and still formidable. The Swedes advance to Egra by forced marches, And quickly will the junction be accomplish'd. This must not be! The Duke must never leave This stronghold on free footing; for I have Pledged life and honor here to hold him prisoner, And your assistance 'tis on which I calculate.

GORDON.

O that I had not lived to see this day! From his hand I received this dignity; He did himself intrust this stronghold to me, Which I am now required to make his dungeon. We subalterns have no will of our own: The free, the mighty man alone may listen To the fair impulse of his human nature. Ah! we are but the poor tools of the law, Obedience the sole virtue we dare aim at!

BUTLER.

Nay! let it not afflict you, that your power Is circumscribed. Much liberty, much error! The narrow path of duty is securest.

GORDON.

And all then have deserted him you say? He has built up the luck of many thousands; For kingly was his spirit: his full hand Was ever open! Many a one from dust

[With a sly glance on BUTLER.]

Hath he selected, from the very dust Hath raised him into dignity and honor, And yet no friend, not one friend hath he purchased, Whose heart beats true to him in the evil hour.

BUTLER.

Here's one, I see.

GORDON.

I have enjoy'd from him No grace or favor. I could almost doubt If ever in his greatness he once thought on An old friend of his youth. For still my office Kept me at a distance from him; and when first He to this citadel appointed me, He was sincere and serious in his duty. I do not then abuse his confidence, If I preserve my fealty in that Which to my fealty was first delivered.

BUTLER.

Say, then, will you fulfil th' attainder on him, [And lend your aid to take him in arrest?]

GORDON (pauses, reflecting—then as in deep dejection).

If it be so—if all be as you say— If he've betray'd the Emperor, his master, Have sold the troops, have purposed to deliver The strongholds of the country to the enemy— Yea, truly!—there is no redemption for him Yet it is hard that me the lot should destine To be the instrument of his perdition; For we were pages at the court of Bergau At the same period; but I was the senior.

BUTLER.

I have heard so—

GORDON.

'Tis full thirty years since then, A youth who scarce had seen his twentieth year Was Wallenstein, when he and I were friends. Yet even then he had a daring soul: His frame of mind was serious and severe Beyond his years: his dreams were of great objects, He walk'd amidst us of a silent spirit, Communing with himself; yet I have known him Transported on a sudden into utterance Of strange conceptions; kindling into splendor, His soul reveal'd itself, and he spake so That we look'd round perplex 'd upon each other, Not knowing whether it were craziness, Or whether it were a god that spoke in him.

BUTLER.

But was it where he fell two-story-high From a window-ledge, on which he had fallen asleep And rose up free from injury? From this day (It is reported) he betrayed clear marks Of a distemper'd fancy.

GORDON.

He became Doubtless more self-enwrapt and melancholy; He made himself a Catholic.[30] Marvelously His marvelous preservation had transform'd him. Thenceforth he held himself for an exempted And privileged being, and, as if he were Incapable of dizziness or fall, He ran along the unsteady rope of life. But now our destinies drove us asunder, He paced with rapid step the way of greatness, Was Count, and Prince, Duke-regent, and Dictator— And now is all, all this too little for him; He stretches forth his hands for a king's crown, And plunges in unfathomable ruin.

BUTLER.

No more, he comes.

SCENE III

To these enter WALLENSTEIN, in conversation with the BURGOMASTER of Egra.

WALLENST.

You were at one time a free town. I see, Ye bear the half eagle in your city arms. Why the half eagle only?

BURGOMASTER.

We were free, But for these last two hundred years has Egra Remain'd in pledge to the Bohemian crown; Therefore we bear the half eagle, the other half Being cancell'd till the empire ransom us, If ever that should be.

WALLENSTEIN.

Ye merit freedom. Only be firm and dauntless. Lend your ears To no designing whispering court-minions. What may your imposts be?

BURGOMASTER.

So heavy that We totter under them. The garrison Lives at our costs.

WALLENSTEIN.

I will relieve you. Tell me, There are some Protestants among you still

[The BURGOMASTER hesitates.]

Yes, yes; I know it. Many lie conceal'd Within these walls—confess now—you your self—

[Fixes his eye on him. The BURGOMASTER alarmed.]

Be not alarm'd. I hate the Jesuits. Could my will have determined it, they had Been long ago expell'd the empire. Trust me— Mass-book or bible, 'tis all one to me. Of that the world has had sufficient proof. I built a church for the Reform'd in Glogau At my own instance. Harkye, Burgomaster! What is your name?

BURGOMASTER.

Pachhalbel, may it please you.

WALLENST.

Harkye!— But let it go no further, what I now Disclose to you in confidence.

[Laying his hand on the BURGOMASTER'S shoulder with a certain solemnity.]

The times Draw near to their fulfilment, Burgomaster! The high will fall, the low will be exalted. Harkye! But keep it to yourself! The end Approaches of the Spanish double monarchy— A new arrangement is at hand. You saw The three moons that appear'd at once in the Heaven.

BURGOM.

With wonder and affright!

WALLENSTEIN.

Whereof did two Strangely transform themselves to bloody daggers, And only one, the middle moon, remained Steady and clear.

BURGOMASTER.

We applied it to the Turks.

WALLENST.

The Turks! That all?—I tell you, that two empires Will set in blood, in the East and in the West, And Luth'ranism alone remain.

[Observing GORDON and BUTLER.]

I' faith, 'Twas a smart cannonading that we heard This evening, as we journey'd hitherward; 'Twas on our left hand. Did you hear it here?

GORDON.

Distinctly. The wind brought it from the south.

BUTLER.

It seem'd to came from Weiden or from Neustadt.

WALLENST.

'Tis likely. That's the route the Swedes are taking. How strong is the garrison?

GORDON.

Not quite two hundred Competent men, the rest are invalids.

WALLENST.

Good! And how many in the vale of Jochim?

GORDON.

Two hundred harquebusiers have I sent thither To fortify the posts against the Swedes.

WALLENST.

Good! I commend your foresight. At the works too You have done somewhat?

GORDON.

Two additional batteries I caused to be run up. They were needless. The Rhinegrave presses hard upon us, General!

WALLENST.

You have been watchful in your Emperor's service. I am content with you, Lieutenant-Colonel.

[To BUTLER.]

Release the outposts in the vale of Jochim With all the stations in the enemy's route.

[To GORDON.]

Governor, in your faithful hands I leave My wife, my daughter, and my sister. I Shall make no stay here, and wait but the arrival Of letters to take leave of you, together With all the regiments.

SCENE IV

To these enter COUNT TERZKY

TERZKY.

Joy, General; joy! I bring you welcome tidings.

WALLENST.

And what may they be?

TERZKY.

There has been an engagement At Neustadt; the Swedes gain'd the victory.

WALLENST.

From whence did you receive the intelligence?

TERZKY.

A countryman from Tirschenreut convey'd it. Soon after sunrise did the fight begin! A troop of the Imperialists from Tachau Had forced their way into the Swedish camp; The cannonade continued full two hours; There were left dead upon the field a thousand Imperialists, together with their Colonel; Further than this he did not know.

WALLENSTEIN.

How came Imperial troops at Neustadt? Altringer, But yesterday, stood sixty miles from there. Count Gallas' force collects at Frauenberg, And have not the full complement. Is it possible That Suys perchance had ventured so far onward? It cannot be.

TERZKY.

We shall soon know the whole, For here comes Illo, full of haste, and joyous.

SCENE V

To these enter ILLO

ILLO (to WALLENSTEIN).

A courier, Duke! he wishes to speak with thee.

TERZKY (eagerly).

Does he bring confirmation of the victory?

WALLENSTEIN (at the same time).

What does he bring? Whence comes he?

ILLO.

From the Rhinegrave And what he brings I can announce to you Beforehand. Seven leagues distant are the Swedes; At Neustadt did Max Piccolomini Throw himself on them with the cavalry; A murderous fight took place! o'erpower'd by numbers The Pappenheimers all, with Max their leader,

[WALLENSTEIN shudders and turns pale.]

Were left dead on the field.

WALLENSTEIN (after a pause, in a low voice).

Where is the messenger? Conduct me to him.

[WALLENSTEIN is going, when LADY NEUBRUNN rushes into the room. Some servants follow her and run across the stage.]

NEUBR.

Help! Help!

ILLO and TERZKY (at the same time).

What now?

NEUBRUNN.

The Princess!

WALTENSTEIN and TERZKY.

Does she know it?

NEUBRUNN (at the same time with them).

She is dying!

[Hurries off the stage, when WALLENSTEIN and TERZKY follow her.]

SCENE VI

BUTLER and GORDON

GORDON.

What's this?

BUTLER.

She has lost the man she loved— Young Piccolomini who fell in the battle.

GORDON.

Unfortunate Lady!

BUTLER.

You have heard what Illo Reporteth, that the Swedes are conquerors, And marching hitherward.

GORDON.

Too well I heard it.

BUTLER.

They are twelve regiments strong, and there are five Close by us to protect the Duke. We have Only my single regiment; and the garrison Is not two hundred strong.

GORDON.

'Tis even so.

BUTLER.

It is not possible with such small force To hold in custody a man like him.

GORDON.

I grant it.

BUTLER.

Soon the numbers would disarm us, And liberate him.

GORDON.

It were to be fear 'd.

BUTLER (after a pause).

Know, I am warranty for the event; With my head have I pledged myself for his, Must make my word good, cost it what it will, And if alive we cannot hold him prisoner, Why—death makes all things certain!

GORDON.

Butler! What? Do I understand you? Gracious God! You could—

BUTLER.

He must not live.

GORDON.

And you can do the deed!

BUTLER.

Either you or I. This morning was his last.

GORDON.

You would assassinate him!

BUTLER.

'Tis my purpose.

GORDON.

Who leans with his whole confidence upon you!

BUTLER.

Such is his evil destiny!

GORDON.

Your General! The sacred person of your General!

BUTLER.

My General he has been.

GORDON.

That 'tis only A "has been" washes out no villiany. And without judgment pass'd?

BUTLER.

The execution Is here instead of judgment.

GORDON.

This were murder, Not justice. The most guilty should be heard.

BUTLER.

His guilt is clear, the Emperor has pass'd judgment, And we but execute his will.

GORDON.

We should not Hurry to realize a bloody sentence; A word may be recall'd, a life can never be.

BUTLER.

Dispatch in service pleases sovereigns.

GORDON.

No honest man's ambitious to press forward To the hangman's service.

BUTLER.

And no brave man loses His color at a daring enterprise.

GORDON.

A brave man hazards life, but not his conscience.

BUTLER.

What then? Shall he go forth anew to kindle The unextinguishable flame of war?

GORDON.

Seize him, and hold him prisoner—do not kill him.

BUTLER.

Had not the Emperor's army been defeated, I might have done so.—But 'tis now past by.

GORDON.

O, wherefore open'd I the stronghold to him?

BUTLER.

His destiny and not the place destroys him.

GORDON.

Upon these ramparts, as beseem'd a soldier, I had fallen, defending the Emperor's citadel!

BUTLER.

Yes, and a thousand gallant men have perish'd.

GORDON.

Doing their duty—that adorns the man! But murder's a black deed, and nature curses it.

BUTLER (brings out a paper).

Here is the manifesto which commands us To gain possession of his person. See— It is addressed to you as well as me. Are you content to take the consequences, If through our fault he escape to the enemy?

GORDON.

I?—Gracious God!

BUTLER.

Take it on yourself Come of it what may; on you I lay it.

GORDON.

O God in heaven!

BUTLER.

Can you advise aught else Wherewith to execute the Emperor's purpose? Say if you can. For I desire his fall, Not his destruction.

GORDON.

Merciful heaven! what must be I see as clear as you. Yet still the heart Within my bosom beats with other feelings!

BUTLER.

Mine is of harder stuff! Necessity In her rough school hath steel'd me. And this Illo, And Terzky likewise, they must not survive him.

GORDON.

I feel no pang for these. Their own bad hearts Impell'd them, not the influence of the stars. 'Twas they who strew'd the seeds of evil passions In his calm breast, and with officious villiany Water'd and nursed the pois'nous plants. May they Receive their earnests to the uttermost mite!

BUTLER.

And their death shall precede his! We meant to have taken them alive this evening Amid the merry-making of a feast, And keep them prisoners in the citadel. But this makes shorter work. I go this instant To give the necessary orders.

SCENE VII

To these enter ILLO and TERZKY

TERZKY.

Our luck is on the turn. Tomorrow come The Swedes—twelve thousand gallant warriors, Illo, Then straightwise for Vienna. Cheerily, friend! What! meet such news with such a moody face?

ILLO.

It lies with us at present to prescribe Laws, and take vengeance on those worthless traitors, Those skulking cowards that deserted us; One has already done his bitter penance, The Piccolomini: be his the fate Of all who wish us evil! This flies sure To the old man's heart; he has his whole life long Fretted and toil'd to raise his ancient house From a Count's title to the name of prince; And now must seek a grave for his only son.

BUTLER.

'Twas pity, though! A youth of such heroic And gentle temperament! The Duke himself, 'Twas easily seen, how near it went to his heart.

ILLO.

Hark ye, old friend! That is the very point That never pleased me in our General— He ever gave the preference to the Italians. Yea, at this very moment, by my soul! He'd gladly see us all dead ten times over, Could he thereby recall his friend to life.

TERZKY.

Hush, hush! Let the dead rest! This evening's business Is, who can fairly drink the other down— Your regiment, Illo! gives the entertainment. Come! we will keep a merry carnival— The night for once be day, and 'mid full glasses Will we expect the Swedish avant-garde.

ILLO.

Yes, let us be of good cheer for today, For there's hot work before us, friends! This sword Shall have no rest, till it be bathed to the hilt In Austrian blood.

GORDON.

Shame, shame! what talk is this My Lord Field-Marshal? Wherefore foam you so Against your Emperor?

BUTLER.

Hope not too much From this first victory. Bethink you, sirs! How rapidly the wheel of Fortune turns; The Emperor still is formidably strong.

ILLO.

The Emperor has soldiers, no commander, For this King Ferdinand of Hungary Is but a tyro. Gallas? He's no luck, And was of old the ruiner of armies. And then this viper, this Octavio, Is excellent at stabbing in the back, But ne'er meets Friedland in the open field.

TERZKY.

Trust me, my friends, it cannot but succeed; Fortune, we know, can ne'er forsake the Duke! And only under Wallenstein can Austria Be conqueror.

ILLO.

The Duke will soon assemble A mighty army: all comes crowding, streaming To banners, dedicate by destiny To fame and prosperous fortune. I behold Old times come back again! he will become Once more the mighty Lord which he has been. How will the fools, who've now deserted him, Look then? I can't but laugh to think of them, For lands will he present to all his friends, And like a King and Emperor reward True services; but we've the nearest claims.

[To GORDON.]

You will not be forgotten, Governor! He'll take you from this nest, and bid you shine In higher station: your fidelity Well merits it.

GORDON.

I am content already And wish to climb no higher; where great height is, The fall must needs be great. "Great height, great depth."

ILLO.

Here you have no more business, for tomorrow The Swedes will take possession of the citadel. Come, Terzky, it is supper-time. What think you? Nay, shall we have the town illuminated In honor of the Swede? And who refuses To do it is a Spaniard and a traitor.

TERZKY.

Nay! nay! not that, it will not please the Duke—

ILLO.

What! we are masters here; no soul shall dare Avow himself Imperial where we've the rule. Gordon! good night, and for the last time, take A fair leave of the place. Send out patroles To make secure, the watch-word may be alter'd At the stroke of ten; deliver in the keys To the Duke himself, and then you've quit for ever Your wardship of the gates, for on tomorrow The Swedes will take possession of the citadel.

TERZKY (as he is going, to BUTLER).

You come, though, to the castle?

BUTLER.

At the right time.

[Exeunt TERZKY and ILLO.]

SCENE VIII

GORDON and BUTLER

GORDON (looking after them).

Unhappy men! How free from all foreboding! They rush into the outspread net of murder In the blind drunkenness of victory; I have no pity for their fate. This Illo, This overflowing and foolhardy villain, That would fain bathe himself in his Emperor's blood.—

BUTLER.

Do as he order'd you. Send round patroles, Take measures for the citadel's security; When they are within I close the castle-gate That nothing may transpire.

GORDON (with earnest anxiety).

Oh! haste not so! Nay, stop; first tell me—

BUTLER.

You have heard already, Tomorrow to the Swedes belongs. This night Alone is ours. They make good expedition, But we will make still greater. Fare you well.

GORDON.

Ah! your looks tell me nothing good. Nay, Butler, I pray you, promise me!

BUTLER.

The sun has set; A fateful evening doth descend upon us, And brings on their long night! Their evil stars Deliver them unarm'd into our hands, And from their drunken dream of golden fortunes The dagger at their heart shall rouse them. Well, The Duke was ever a great calculator; His fellow-men were figures on his chess-board, To move and station, as his game required. Other men's honor, dignity, good name, Did he shift like pawns, and make no conscience of; Still calculating, calculating still; And yet at last his calculation proves Erroneous; the whole game is lost; and lo! His own life will be found among the forfeits.

GORDON.

O think not of his errors now! remember His greatness, his munificence; think on all The lovely features of his character, On all the noble exploits of his life, And let them, like an angel's arm, unseen, Arrest the lifted sword.

BUTLER.

It is too late. I suffer not myself to feel compassion; Dark thoughts and bloody are my duty now:

[Grasping GORDON's hand.]

Gordon! 'tis not my hatred (I pretend not To love the Duke, and have no cause to love him), Yet 'tis not now my hatred that impels me To be his murderer. 'Tis his evil fate. Hostile concurrences of many events Control and subjugate me to the office. In vain the human being meditates Free action. He is but the wire-work'd[31] puppet Of the blind Power, which out of its own choice Creates for him a dread necessity. What too would it avail him, if there were A something pleading for him in my heart— Still I must kill him.

GORDON.

If your heart speak to you, Follow its impulse. 'Tis the voice of God. Think you your fortunes will grow prosperous Bedew'd with blood—his blood? Believe it not!

BUTLER.

You know not. Ask not! Wherefore should it happen That the Swedes gain'd the victory, and hasten With such forced marches hitherward? Fain would I Have given him to the Emperor's mercy. Gordon! I do not wish his blood—But I must ransom The honor of my word—it lies in pledge— And he must die, or—

[Passionately grasping GORDON's hand.]

Listen then, and know, I am dishonor'd if the Duke escape us.

GORDON.

O! to save such a man—

BUTLER.

What!

GORDON.

It is worth A sacrifice. Come, friend! Be noble-minded! Our own heart, and not other men's opinions, Forms our true honor.

BUTLER (with a cold and haughty air).

He is a great Lord, This Duke—and I am but of mean importance. This is what you would say! Wherein concerns it The world at large, you mean to hint to me, Whether the man of low extraction keeps Or blemishes his honor— So that the man of princely rank be saved? We all do stamp our value on ourselves: The price we challenge for ourselves is given us. There does not live on earth the man so station'd That I despise myself, compared with him. Man is made great or little by his own will; Because I am true to mine, therefore he dies.

GORDON.

I am endeavoring to move a rock. Thou hadst a mother, yet no human feelings. I cannot hinder you, but may some God Rescue him from you!

[Exit GORDON.]

BUTLER[32] (alone).

I treasured my good name all my life long; The Duke has cheated me of life's best jewel, So that I blush before this poor weak Gordon! He prizes above all his fealty; His conscious soul accuses him of nothing; In opposition to his own soft heart He subjugates himself to an iron duty. Me in a weaker moment passion warp'd; I stand beside him, and must feel myself The worse man of the two. What, though the world Is ignorant of my purposed treason, yet One man does know it, and can prove it too— High-minded Piccolomini! There lives the man who can dishonor me! This ignominy blood alone can cleanse! Duke Friedland, thou or I—Into my own hands Fortune delivers me—The dearest thing a man has is himself.



SCENE IX

A Gothic and gloomy Apartment at the DUCHESS FRIEDLAND'S. THEKLA on a seat, pale, her eyes closed. The DUCHESS and LADY NEUBRUNN busied about her. WALLENSTEIN and the COUNTESS in conversation.

WALLENST.

How knew she it so soon?

COUNTESS.

She seems to have Foreboded some misfortune. The report Of an engagement, in the which had fallen A colonel of the Imperial army, frighten'd her. I saw it instantly. She flew to meet The Swedish courier, and with sudden questioning Soon wrested from him the disastrous secret. Too late we missed her, hasten'd after her, We found her lying in his arms, all pale And in a swoon.

WALLENSTEIN.

A heavy, heavy blow! And she so unprepared! Poor child! how is it?

[Turning to the DUCHESS.]

Is she coming to herself?

DUCHESS.

Her eyes are opening.

COUNTESS.

She lives!

THEKLA (looking around her).

Where am I?

WALLENSTEIN (steps to her, raising her up in his arms).