TERZKY. Right I lay it yonder and away with this— It has performed its business—to the fire with it.

[NEUMANN lays the copy on the table, and steps back again to the side-table.



SCENE III.

ILLO (comes out from the second chamber), TERZKY.

ILLO. How goes it with young Piccolomini!

TERZKY. All right, I think. He has started no object.

ILLO. He is the only one I fear about— He and his father. Have an eye on both!

TERZKY. How looks it at your table: you forget not To keep them warm and stirring?

ILLO. Oh, quite cordial, They are quite cordial in the scheme. We have them And 'tis as I predicted too. Already It is the talk, not merely to maintain The duke in station. "Since we're once for all Together and unanimous, why not," Says Montecuculi, "ay, why not onward, And make conditions with the emperor There in his own Venice?" Trust me, count, Were it not for these said Piccolomini, We might have spared ourselves the cheat.

TERZEY. And Butler? How goes it there? Hush!



SCENE IV.

To them enter BUTLER from a second table.

BUTLER. Don't disturb yourselves; Field-marshal, I have understood you perfectly. Good luck be to the scheme; and as to me, [With an air of mystery. You may depend upon me.

ILLO (with vivacity). May we, Butler?

BUTLER. With or without the clause, all one to me! You understand me! My fidelity The duke may put to any proof—I'm with him Tell him so! I'm the emperor's officer, As long as 'tis his pleasure to remain The emperor's general! and Friedland's servant, As soon as it shall please him to become His own lord.

TERZKY. You would make a good exchange. No stern economist, no Ferdinand, Is he to whom you plight your services.

BUTLER (with a haughty look). I do not put up my fidelity To sale, Count Terzky! Half a year ago I would not have advised you to have made me An overture to that, to which I now Offer myself of my own free accord. But that is past! and to the duke, field-marshal, I bring myself, together with my regiment. And mark you, 'tis my humor to believe, The example which I give will not remain Without an influence.

ILLO. Who is ignorant, That the whole army looks to Colonel Butler As to a light that moves before them?

BUTLER. Ay? Then I repent me not of that fidelity Which for the length of forty years I held, If in my sixtieth year my good old name Can purchase for me a revenge so full. Start not at what I say, sir generals! My real motives—they concern not you. And you yourselves, I trust, could not expect That this your game had crooked my judgment—or That fickleness, quick blood, or such like cause, Has driven the old man from the track of honor, Which he so long had trodden. Come, my friends! I'm not thereto determined with less firmness, Because I know and have looked steadily At that on which I have determined.

ILLO. Say, And speak roundly, what are we to deem you?

BUTLER. A friend! I give you here my hand! I'm yours With all I have. Not only men, but money Will the duke want. Go, tell him, sirs! I've earned and laid up somewhat in his service, I lend it him; and is he my survivor, It has been already long ago bequeathed to him; He is my heir. For me, I stand alone Here in the world; naught know I of the feeling That binds the husband to a wife and children. My name dies with me, my existence ends.

ILLO. 'Tis not your money that he needs—a heart Like yours weighs tons of gold down, weighs down millions!

BUTLER. I came a simple soldier's boy from Ireland To Prague—and with a master, whom I buried. From lowest stable duty I climbed up, Such was the fate of war, to this high rank, The plaything of a whimsical good fortune. And Wallenstein too is a child of luck: I love a fortune that is like my own.

ILLO. All powerful souls have kindred with each other.

BUTLER. This is an awful moment! to the brave, To the determined, an auspicious moment. The Prince of Weimar arms, upon the Maine, To found a mighty dukedom. He of Halberstadt, That Mansfeldt, wanted but a longer life To have marked out with his good sword a lordship That should reward his courage. Who of these Equals our Friedland? There is nothing, nothing So high, but he may set the ladder to it!

TERZKY. That's spoken like a man!

BUTLER. Do you secure the Spaniard and Italian— I'll be your warrant for the Scotchman Lesly. Come to the company!

TERZKY. Where is the master of the cellar? Ho! Let the best wines come up. Ho! cheerly, boy! Luck comes to-day, so give her hearty welcome.

[Exeunt, each to his table.



SCENE V.

The MASTER OF THE CELLAR, advancing with NEUMANN, SERVANTS passing backwards and forwards.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. The best wine! Oh, if my old mistress, his lady mother, could but see these wild goings on she would turn herself round in her grave. Yes, yes, sir officer! 'tis all down the hill with this noble house! no end, no moderation! And this marriage with the duke's sister, a splendid connection, a very splendid connection! but I will tell you, sir officer, it looks no good.

NEUMANN. Heaven forbid! Why, at this very moment the whole prospect is in bud and blossom!

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. You think so? Well, well! much may be said on that head.

FIRST SERVANT (comes). Burgundy for the fourth table.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Now, sir lieutenant, if this aint the seventieth flask——

FIRST SERVANT. Why, the reason is, that German lord, Tiefenbach, sits at that table.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR (continuing his discourse to NEUMANN). They are soaring too high. They would rival kings and electors in their pomp and splendor; and wherever the duke leaps, not a minute does my gracious master, the count, loiter on the brink—(to the SERVANTS). What do you stand there listening for? I will let you know you have legs presently. Off! see to the tables, see to the flasks! Look there! Count Palfi has an empty glass before him!

RUNNER (comes). The great service-cup is wanted, sir, that rich gold cup with the Bohemian arms on it. The count says you know which it is.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Ay! that was made for Frederick's coronation by the artist William—there was not such another prize in the whole booty at Prague.

RUNNER. The same!—a health is to go round in him.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR (shaking his head while he fetches and rinses the cups). This will be something for the tale-bearers—this goes to Vienna.

NEUMANN. Permit me to look at it. Well, this is a cup indeed! How heavy! as well it may be, being all gold. And what neat things are embossed on it! how natural and elegant they look! There, on the first quarter, let me see. That proud amazon there on horseback, she that is taking a leap over the crosier and mitres, and carries on a wand a hat together with a banner, on which there's a goblet represented. Can you tell me what all this signifies?

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. The woman you see there on horseback is the Free Election of the Bohemian Crown. That is signified by the round hat and by that fiery steed on which she is riding. The hat is the pride of man; for he who cannot keep his hat on before kings and emperors is no free man.

NEUMANN. But what is the cup there on the banner.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. The cup signifies the freedom of the Bohemian Church, as it was in our forefathers' times. Our forefathers in the wars of the Hussites forced from the pope this noble privilege; for the pope, you know, will not grant the cup to any layman. Your true Moravian values nothing beyond the cup; it is his costly jewel, and has cost the Bohemians their precious blood in many and many a battle.

NEUMANN. And what says that chart that hangs in the air there, over it all?

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. That signifies the Bohemian letter-royal which we forced from the Emperor Rudolph—a precious, never to be enough valued parchment, that secures to the new church the old privileges of free ringing and open psalmody. But since he of Steiermark has ruled over us that is at an end; and after the battle at Prague, in which Count Palatine Frederick lost crown and empire, our faith hangs upon the pulpit and the altar—and our brethren look at their homes over their shoulders; but the letter-royal the emperor himself cut to pieces with his scissors.

NEUMANN. Why, my good Master of the Cellar! you are deep read in the chronicles of your country.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. So were my forefathers, and for that reason were they minstrels, and served under Procopius and Ziska. Peace be with their ashes! Well, well! they fought for a good cause though. There! carry it up!

NEUMANN. Stay! let me but look at this second quarter. Look there! That is, when at Prague Castle, the imperial counsellors, Martinitz and Stawata, were hurled down head over heels. 'Tis even so! there stands Count Thur who commands it.

[RUNNER takes the service-cup and goes off with it.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Oh, let me never more hear of that day. It was the three-and-twentieth of May in the year of our Lord one thousand six hundred and eighteen. It seems to me as it were but yesterday—from that unlucky day it all began, all the heartaches of the country. Since that day it is now sixteen years, and there has never once been peace on the earth.

[Health drunk aloud at the second table.

The Prince of Weimar! Hurrah!

[At the third and fourth tables.

Long live Prince William! Long live Duke Bernard! Hurrah!

[Music strikes up.

FIRST SERVANT. Hear 'em! Hear 'em! What an uproar!

SECOND SERVANT (comes in running). Did you hear? They have drunk the Prince of Weimar's health.

THIRD SERVANT. The Swedish chief commander!

FIRST SERVANT (speaking at the same time). The Lutheran!

SECOND SERVANT. Just before, when Count Deodati gave out the emperor's health, they were all as mum as a nibbling mouse.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Po, po! When the wine goes in strange things come out. A good servant hears, and hears not! You should be nothing but eyes and feet, except when you are called to.

SECOND SERVANT. [To the RUNNER, to whom he gives secretly a flask of wine, keeping his eye on the MASTER OF THE CELLAR, standing between him and the RUNNER. Quick, Thomas! before the Master of the Cellar runs this way; 'tis a flask of Frontignac! Snapped it up at the third table. Canst go off with it?

RUNNER (hides it in his, pocket). All right!

[Exit the Second Servant.

THIRD SERVANT (aside to the FIRST). Be on the hark, Jack! that we may have right plenty to tell to Father Quivoga. He will give us right plenty of absolution in return for it.

FIRST SERVANT. For that very purpose I am always having something to do behind Illo's chair. He is the man for speeches to make you stare with.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR (to NEUMANN). Who, pray, may that swarthy man be, he with the cross, that is chatting so confidently with Esterhats?

NEUMANN. Ay, he too is one of those to whom they confide too much. He calls himself Maradas; a Spaniard is he.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR (impatiently). Spaniard! Spaniard! I tell you, friend, nothing good comes of those Spaniards. All these outlandish fellows are little better than rogues.

NEUMANN. Fy, fy! you should not say so, friend. There are among them our very best generals, and those on whom the duke at this moment relies the most.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. [Taking the flask out of RUNNER'S pocket. My son, it will be broken to pieces in your pocket.

[TERZKY hurries in, fetches away the paper, and calls to a servant for pen and ink, and goes to the back of the stage.

MASTER OF THE CELLAR (to the SERVANTS). The lieutenant-general stands up. Be on the watch. Now! They break up. Off, and move back the forms.

[They rise at all the tables, the SERVANTS hurry off the front of the stage to the tables; part of the guests come forward.



SCENE VI.

OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI enters, in conversation with MARADAS, and both place themselves quite on the edge of the stage on one side of the proscenium. On the side directly opposite, MAX. PICCOLOMINI, by himself, lost in thought, and taking no part in anything that is going forward. The middle space between both, but rather more distant from the edge of the stage, is filled up by BUTLER, ISOLANI, GOETZ, TIEFENBACH, and KOLATTO.

ISOLANI (while the company is coming forward). Good-night, good-night, Kolatto! Good-night, lieutenant-general! I should rather say good-morning.

GOETZ (to TIEFENBACH). Noble brother! (making the usual compliment after meals).

TIEFENBACH. Ay! 'twas a royal feast indeed.

GOETZ. Yes, my lady countess understands these matters. Her mother-in-law, heaven rest her soul, taught her! Ah! that was a housewife for you!

TIEFENBACH. There was not her like in all Bohemia for setting out a table.

OCTAVIO (aside to MARADAS). Do me the favor to talk to me—talk of what you will—or of nothing. Only preserve the appearance at least of talking. I would not wish to stand by myself, and yet I conjecture that there will be goings on here worthy of our attentive observation. (He continues to fix his eye on the whole following scene.)

ISOLANI (on the point of going). Lights! lights!

TERZKY (advances with the paper to ISOLANI). Noble brother; two minutes longer! Here is something to subscribe.

ISOLANI. Subscribe as much as you like—but you must excuse me from reading it.

TERZKY. There is no need. It is the oath which you have already read. Only a few marks of your pen!

[ISOLANI hands over the paper to OCTAVIO respectfully.

TERZKY. Nay, nay, first come, first served. There is no precedence here.

[OCTAVIO runs over the paper with apparent indifference. TERZKY watches him at some distance.

GOETZ (to TERZKY). Noble count! with your permission—good-night.

TERKZY. Where's the hurry? Come, one other composing draught. (To the SERVANTS). Ho!

GOETZ. Excuse me—aint able.

TERZKY. A thimble-full.

GOETZ. Excuse me.

TIEFENBACH (sits down). Pardon me, nobles! This standing does not agree with me.

TERZKY. Consult your own convenience, general.

TIEFENBACH. Clear at head, sound in stomach—only my legs won't carry me any longer.

ISOLANI (pointing at his corpulence). Poor legs! how should they! Such an unmerciful load!

[OCTAVIO subscribes his name, and reaches over the paper to TERZKY, who gives it to ISOLANI; and he goes to the table to sign his name.

TIEFENBACH. 'Twas that war in Pomerania that first brought it on. Out in all weathers—ice and snow—no help for it. I shall never get the better of it all the days of my life.

GOETZ. Why, in simple verity, your Swedes make no nice inquiries about the season.

TERZKY (observing ISOLANI, whose hand trembles excessively so that he can scarce direct his pen). Have you had that ugly complaint long, noble brother? Despatch it.

ISOLANI. The sins of youth! I have already tried the chalybeate waters. Well—I must bear it.

[TERZKY gives the paper to MARADAS; he steps to the table to subscribe.

OCTAVIO (advancing to BUTLER). You are not over-fond of the orgies of Bacchus, colonel! I have observed it. You would, I think, find yourself more to your liking in the uproar of a battle than of a feast.

BUTLER. I must confess 'tis not in my way.

OCTAVIO (stepping nearer to him friendlily). Nor in mine neither, I can assure you; and I am not a little glad, my much-honored Colonel Butler, that we agree so well in our opinions. A half-dozen good friends at most, at a small round table, a glass of genuine Tokay, open hearts, and a rational conversation—that's my taste.

BUTLER. And mine, too, when it can be had.

[The paper comes to TIEFENBACH, who glances over it at the same time with GOETZ and KOLATTO. MARADAS in the meantime returns to OCTAVIO. All this takes places, the conversation with BUTLER proceeding uninterrupted.

OCTAVIO (introducing MADARAS to BUTLER.) Don Balthasar Maradas! likewise a man of our stamp, and long ago your admirer.

[BUTLER bows.

OCTAVIO (continuing). You are a stranger here—'twas but yesterday you arrived—you are ignorant of the ways and means here. 'Tis a wretched place. I know at your age one loves to be snug and quiet. What if you move your lodgings? Come, be my visitor. (BUTLER makes a low bow.) Nay, without compliment! For a friend like you I have still a corner remaining.

BUTLER (coldly). Your obliged humble servant, my lord lieutenant-general.

[The paper comes to BUTLER, who goes to the table to subscribe it. The front of the stage is vacant, so that both the PICCOLOMINIS, each on the side where he had been from the commencement of the scene, remain alone.

OCTAVIO (after having some time watched his son in silence, advances somewhat nearer to him). You were long absent from us, friend!

MAX. I—urgent business detained me.

OCTAVIO. And, I observe, you are still absent!

MAX. You know this crowd and bustle always makes me silent.

OCTAVIO (advancing still nearer). May I be permitted to ask what the business was that detained you? Terzky knows it without asking.

MAX. What does Terzky know?

OCTAVIO. He was the only one who did not miss you.

ISOLANI (who has been attending to them for some distance steps up). Well done, father! Rout out his baggage! Beat up his quarters! there is something there that should not be.

TERZKY (with the paper). Is there none wanting? Have the whole subscribed?

OCTAVIO. All.

TERZKY (calling aloud). Ho! Who subscribes?

BUTLER (to TERZKY). Count the names. There ought to be just thirty.

TERZKY. Here is a cross.

TIEFENBACH. That's my mark!

ISOLANI. He cannot write; but his cross is a good cross, and is honored by Jews as well as Christians.

OCTAVIO (presses on to MAX.). Come, general! let us go. It is late.

TERZKY. One Piccolomini only has signed.

ISOLANI (pointing to MAX.). Look! that is your man, that statue there, who has had neither eye, ear, nor tongue for us the whole evening.

[MAX. receives the paper from TERZKY, which he looks upon vacantly.



SCENE VII.

To these enter ILLO from the inner room. He has in his hand a golden service-cup, and is extremely distempered with drinking; GOETZ and BUTLER follow him, endeavoring to keep him back.

ILLO. What do you want! Let me go.

GOETZ and BUTLER. Drink no more, Illo! For heaven's sake, drink no more.

ILLO (goes up to OCTAVIO, and shakes him cordially by the hand, and then drinks). Octavio! I bring this to you! Let all grudge be drowned in this friendly bowl! I know well enough you never loved me—devil take me! and I never loved you! I am always even with people in that way! Let what's past be past—that is, you understand—forgotten! I esteem you infinitely. (Embracing him repeatedly.) You have not a dearer friend on earth than I, but that you know. The fellow that cries rogue to you calls me villain, and I'll strangle him! my dear friend!

TERZKY (whispering to him). Art in thy senses? For heaven's sake, Illo, think where you are!

ILLO (aloud). What do you mean? There are none but friends here, are there? (Looks round the whole circle with a jolly and triumphant air.) Not a sneaker amongst us, thank heaven.

TERZKY (to BUTLER, eagerly). Take him off with you, force him off, I entreat you, Butler!

BUTLER (to ILLO). Field-marshal! a word with you. (Leads to the side-board.)

ILLO (cordially). A thousand for one. Fill; fill it once more up to the brim. To this gallant man's health!

ISOLANI (to MAX., who all the while has been staring on the paper with fixed but vacant eyes). Slow and sure, my noble brother! Hast parsed it all yet? Some words yet to go through? Ha?

MAX. (waking as from a dream). What am I to do?

TERZKY, and at the same time ISOLANI. Sign your name. (OCTAVIO directs his eyes on him with intense anxiety).

MAX. (returns the paper). Let it stay till to-morrow. It is business; to-day I am not sufficiently collected. Send it to me to-morrow.

TERZKY. Nay, collect yourself a little.

ISOLANI. Awake man, awake! Come, thy signature, and have done with it! What! Thou art the youngest in the whole company, and would be wiser than all of us together! Look there! thy father has signed; we have all signed.

TERZKY (to OCTAVIO). Use your influence. Instruct him.

OCTAVIO. My son is at the age of discretion.

ILLO (leaves the service-cup on the sideboard). What's the dispute?

TERZKY. He declines subscribing the paper.

MAX. I say it may as well stay till to-morrow.

ILLO. It cannot stay. We have all subscribed to it—and so must you. You must subscribe.

MAX. Illo, good-night!

ILLO. No! you come not off so! The duke shall learn who are his friends. (All collect round ILLO and MAX.)

MAX. What my sentiments are towards the duke, the duke knows, every one knows—what need of this wild stuff?

ILLO. This is the thanks the duke gets for his partiality to Italians and foreigners. Us Bohemians he holds for little better than dullards— nothing pleases him but what's outlandish.

TERZKY (in extreme embarrassment, to the Commanders, who at ILLO's words give a sudden start as preparing to resent them). It is the wine that speaks, and not his reason. Attend not to him, I entreat you.

ISOLANI (with a bitter laugh). Wine invents nothing: it only tattles.

ILLO. He who is not with me is against me. Your tender consciences! Unless they can slip out by a back-door, by a puny proviso——

TERZKY (interrupting him). He is stark mad—don't listen to him!

ILLO (raising his voice to the highest pitch). Unless they can slip out by a proviso. What of the proviso? The devil take this proviso!

MAX. (has his attention roused, and looks again into the paper). What is there here then of such perilous import? You make me curious—I must look closer at it.

TERZKY (in a low voice to ILLO). What are you doing, Illo? You are ruining us.

TIEFENBACH (to KOLATTO). Ay, ay! I observed, that before we sat down to supper, it was read differently.

GOETZ. Why, I seemed to think so too.

ISOLANI. What do I care for that? Where there stand other names mine can stand too.

TIEFENBACH. Before supper there was a certain proviso therein, or short clause, concerning our duties to the emperor.

BUTLER (to one of the Commanders). For shame, for shame! Bethink you. What is the main business here? The question now is, whether we shall keep our general, or let him retire. One must not take these things too nicely, and over-scrupulously.

ISOLANI (to one of the Generals). Did the duke make any of these provisos when he gave you your regiment?

TERZKY (to GOETZ). Or when he gave you the office of army-purveyancer, which brings you in yearly a thousand pistoles!

ILLO. He is a rascal who makes us out to be rogues. If there be any one that wants satisfaction, let him say so,—I am his man.

TIEFENBACH. Softly, softly? 'Twas but a word or two.

MAX. (having read the paper gives it back). Till to-morrow therefore!

ILLO (stammering with rage and fury, loses all command over himself and presents the paper to MAX. With one hand, and his sword in the other). Subscribe—Judas!

ISOLANI. Out upon you, Illo!

OCTAVIO, TERZKY, BUTLER (all together). Down with the sword!

MAX. (rushes on him suddenly and disarms him, then to COUNT TERZKY). Take him off to bed!

[MAX leaves the stage. ILLO cursing and raving is held back by some of the officers, and amidst a universal confusion the curtain drops.



ACT V.

SCENE I.

A Chamber in PICCOLOMINI's Mansion. It is Night.

OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI. A VALET DE CHAMBRE with Lights.

OCTAVIO. And when my son comes in, conduct him hither. What is the hour?

VALET. 'Tis on the point of morning.

OCTAVIO. Set down the light. We mean not to undress. You may retire to sleep.

[Exit VALET. OCTAVIO paces, musing, across the chamber; MAX. PICCOLOMINI enters unobserved, and looks at his father for some moments in silence.

MAX. Art thou offended with me? Heaven knows That odious business was no fault of mine. 'Tis true, indeed, I saw thy signature, What thou hast sanctioned, should not, it might seem, Have come amiss to me. But—'tis my nature— Thou know'st that in such matters I must follow My own light, not another's.

OCTAVIO (goes up to him and embraces him). Follow it, Oh, follow it still further, my best son! To-night, dear boy! it hath more faithfully Guided thee than the example of thy father.

MAX. Declare thyself less darkly.

OCTAVIO. I will do so; For after what has taken place this night, There must remain no secrets 'twixt us two. [Both seat themselves. Max. Piccolomini! what thinkest thou of The oath that was sent round for signatures?

MAX. I hold it for a thing of harmless import, Although I love not these set declarations.

OCTAVIO. And on no other ground hast thou refused The signature they fain had wrested from thee?

MAX. It was a serious business. I was absent— The affair itself seemed not so urgent to me.

OCTAVIO. Be open, Max. Thou hadst then no suspicion?

MAX. Suspicion! what suspicion? Not the least.

OCTAVIO. Thank thy good angel, Piccolomini; He drew thee back unconscious from the abyss.

MAX. I know not what thou meanest.

OCTAVIO. I will tell thee. Fain would they have extorted from thee, son, The sanction of thy name to villany; Yes, with a single flourish of thy pen, Made thee renounce thy duty and thy honor!

MAX. (rises). Octavio!

OCTAVIO. Patience! Seat Yourself. Much yet Hast thou to hear from me, friend! Hast for years Lived in incomprehensible illusion. Before thine eyes is treason drawing out As black a web as e'er was spun for venom: A power of hell o'erclouds thy understanding. I dare no longer stand in silence—dare No longer see thee wandering on in darkness, Nor pluck the bandage from thine eyes.

MAX. My father! Yet, ere thou speakest, a moment's pause of thought! If your disclosures should appear to be Conjectures only—and almost I fear They will be nothing further—spare them! I Am not in that collected mood at present, That I could listen to them quietly.

OCTAVIO. The deeper cause thou hast to hate this light, The more impatient cause have I, my son, To force it on thee. To the innocence And wisdom of thy heart I could have trusted thee With calm assurance—but I see the net Preparing—and it is thy heart itself Alarms me, for thine innocence—that secret, [Fixing his eyes steadfastly on his son's face. Which thou concealest, forces mine from me.

[MAX. attempts to answer, but hesitates, and casts his eyes to the ground embarrassed.

OCTAVIO (after a pause). Know, then, they are duping thee!—a most foul game With thee and with us all—nay, hear me calmly— The duke even now is playing. He assumes The mask, as if he would forsake the army; And in this moment makes he preparations That army from the emperor to steal, And carry it over to the enemy!

MAX. That low priest's legend I know well, but did not Expect to hear it from thy mouth.

OCTAVIO. That mouth, From which thou hearest it at this present moment, Doth warrant thee that it is no priest's legend.

MAX. How mere a maniac they supposed the duke; What, he can meditate?—the duke?—can dream That he can lure away full thirty thousand Tried troops and true, all honorable soldiers, More than a thousand noblemen among them, From oaths, from duty, from their honor lure them, And make them all unanimous to do A deed that brands them scoundrels?

OCTAVIO. Such a deed, With such a front of infamy, the duke No way desires—what he requires of us Bears a far gentler appellation. Nothing He wishes but to give the empire peace. And so, because the emperor hates this peace, Therefore the duke—the duke will force him to it. All parts of the empire will he pacify, And for his trouble will retain in payment (What he has already in his gripe)—Bohemia!

MAX. Has he, Octavio, merited of us, That we—that we should think so vilely of him?

OCTAVIO. What we would think is not the question here, The affair speaks for itself—and clearest proofs! Hear me, my son—'tis not unknown to thee, In what ill credit with the court we stand. But little dost thou know, or guess what tricks, What base intrigues, what lying artifices, Have been employed—for this sole end—to sow Mutiny in the camp! All bands are loosed— Loosed all the bands that link the officer To his liege emperor, all that bind the soldier Affectionately to the citizen. Lawless he stands, and threateningly beleaguers The state he's bound to guard. To such a height 'Tis swollen, that at this hour the emperor Before his armies—his own armies—trembles; Yea, in his capital, his palace, fears The traitor's poniard, and is meditating To hurry off and hide his tender offspring— Not from the Swedes, not from the Lutherans—no, From his own troops to hide and hurry them!

MAX. Cease, cease! thou torturest, shatterest me. I know That oft we tremble at an empty terror; But the false phantasm brings a real misery.

OCTAVIO. It is no phantasm. An intestine war, Of all the most unnatural and cruel, Will burst out into flames, if instantly We do not fly and stifle it. The generals Are many of them long ago won over; The subalterns are vacillating; whole Regiments and garrisons are vacillating. To foreigners our strongholds are intrusted; To that suspected Schafgotch is the whole Force of Silesia given up: to Terzky Five regiments, foot and horse; to Isolani, To Illo, Kinsky, Butler, the best troops.

MAX. Likewise to both of us.

OCTAVIO. Because the duke Believes he has secured us, means to lure us Still further on by splendid promises. To me he portions forth the princedoms, Glatz And Sagan; and too plain I see the bait With which he doubts not but to catch thee.

MAX. No! no! I tell thee, no!

OCTAVIO. Oh, open yet thine eyes! And to what purpose think'st thou he has called Hither to Pilsen? to avail himself Of our advice? Oh, when did Friedland ever Need our advice? Be calm, and listen to me. To sell ourselves are we called hither, and Decline we that, to be his hostages. Therefore doth noble Gallas stand aloof; Thy father, too, thou wouldst not have seen here, If higher duties had not held him fettered.

MAX. He makes no secret of it—needs make none— That we're called hither for his sake—he owns it. He needs our aidance to maintain himself— He did so much for us; and 'tis but fair That we, too, should do somewhat now for him.

OCTAVIO. And know'st thou what it is which we must do? That Illo's drunken mood betrayed it to thee. Bethink thyself, what hast thou heard, what seen? The counterfeited paper, the omission Of that particular clause, so full of meaning, Does it not prove that they would bind us down To nothing good?

MAX. That counterfeited paper Appears to me no other than a trick Of Illo's own device. These underhand Traders in great men's interests ever use To urge and hurry all things to the extreme. They see the duke at variance with the court, And fondly think to serve him, when they widen The breach irreparably. Trust me, father, The duke knows nothing of all this.

OCTAVIO. It grieves me That I must dash to earth, that I must shatter A faith so specious; but I may not spare thee! For this is not a time for tenderness. Thou must take measured, speedy ones, must act. I therefore will confess to thee that all Which I've intrusted to thee now, that all Which seems to thee so unbelievable, That—yes, I will tell thee, (a pause) Max.! I had it all From his own mouth, from the duke's mouth I had it.

MAX (in excessive agitation). No! no! never!

OCTAVIO. Himself confided to me What I, 'tis true, had long before discovered By other means; himself confided to me, That 'twas his settled plan to join the Swedes; And, at the head of the united armies, Compel the emperor——

MAX. He is passionate, The court has stung him; he is sore all over With injuries and affronts; and in a moment Of irritation, what if he, for once, Forgot himself? He's an impetuous man.

OCTAVIO. Nay, in cold blood he did confess this to me And having construed my astonishment Into a scruple of his power, he showed me His written evidences—showed me letters, Both from the Saxon and the Swede, that gave Promise of aidance, and defined the amount.

MAX. It cannot be!—cannot be! cannot be! Dost thou not see, it cannot! Thou wouldst of necessity have shown him Such horror, such deep loathing—that or he Had taken thee for his better genius, or Thou stood'st not now a living man before me.

OCTAVIO. I have laid open my objections to him, Dissuaded him with pressing earnestness; But my abhorrence, the full sentiment Of my whole heart—that I have still kept safe To my own consciousness.

MAX. And thou hast been So treacherous? That looks not like my father! I trusted not thy words, when thou didst tell me Evil of him; much less can I now do it, That thou calumniatest thy own self.

OCTAVIO. I did not thrust myself into his secrecy.

MAX. Uprightness merited his confidence.

OCTAVIO. He was no longer worthy of sincerity.

MAX. Dissimulation, sure, was still less worthy Of thee, Octavio!

OCTAVIO. Gave I him a cause To entertain a scruple of my honor?

MAX. That he did not evince his confidence.

OCTAVIO. Dear son, it is not always possible Still to preserve that infant purity Which the voice teaches in our inmost heart, Still in alarm, forever on the watch Against the wiles of wicked men: e'en virtue Will sometimes bear away her outward robes Soiled in the wrestle with iniquity. This is the curse of every evil deed That, propagating still, it brings forth evil. I do not cheat my better soul with sophisms; I but perform my orders; the emperor Prescribes my conduct to me. Dearest boy, Far better were it, doubtless, if we all Obeyed the heart at all times; but so doing, In this our present sojourn with bad men, We must abandon many an honest object. 'Tis now our call to serve the emperor; By what means he can best be served—the heart May whisper what it will—this is our call!

MAX. It seems a thing appointed, that to-day I should not comprehend, not understand thee. The duke, thou sayest, did honestly pour out His heart to thee, but for an evil purpose: And thou dishonestly hast cheated him For a good purpose! Silence, I entreat thee— My friend, thou stealest not from me— Let me not lose my father!

OCTAVIO (suppressing resentment). As yet thou knowest not all, my son. I have Yet somewhat to disclose to thee. [After a pause. Duke Friedland Hath made his preparations. He relies Upon the stars. He deems us unprovided, And thinks to fall upon us by surprise. Yea, in his dream of hope, he grasps already The golden circle in his hand. He errs, We, too, have been in action—he but grasps His evil fate, most evil, most mysterious!

MAX. Oh, nothing rash, my sire! By all that's good, Let me invoke thee—no precipitation!

OCTAVIO. With light tread stole he on his evil way, And light of tread hath vengeance stole on after him. Unseen she stands already, dark behind him But one step more—he shudders in her grasp! Thou hast seen Questenberg with me. As yet Thou knowest but his ostensible commission: He brought with him a private one, my son! And that was for me only.

MAX. May I know it?

OCTAVIO (seizes the patent). Max! In this disclosure place I in thy hands [A pause. The empire's welfare and thy father's life. Dear to thy inmost heart is Wallenstein A powerful tie of love, of veneration, Hath knit thee to him from thy earliest youth. Thou nourishest the wish,—O let me still Anticipate thy loitering confidence! The hope thou nourishest to knit thyself Yet closer to him——

MAX. Father——

OCTAVIO. Oh, my son! I trust thy heart undoubtingly. But am I Equally sure of thy collectedness? Wilt thou be able, with calm countenance, To enter this man's presence, when that I Have trusted to thee his whole fate?

MAX. According As thou dost trust me, father, with his crime.

[OCTAVIO takes a paper out of his escritoire and gives it to him.

MAX. What! how! a full imperial patent!

OCTAVIO. Read it.

MAX. (just glances on it). Duke Friedland sentenced and condemned!

OCTAVIO. Even so.

MAX. (throws down the paper). Oh, this is too much! O unhappy error!

OCTAVIO. Read on. Collect thyself.

MAX. (after he has read further, with a look of affright and astonishment on his father). How! what! Thou! thou!

OCTAVIO. But for the present moment, till the King Of Hungary may safely join the army, Is the command assigned to me.

MAX. And think'st thou, Dost thou believe, that thou wilt tear it from him? Oh, never hope it! Father! father! father! An inauspicious office is enjoined thee. This paper here!—this! and wilt thou enforce it? The mighty in the middle of his host, Surrounded by his thousands, him wouldst thou Disarm—degrade! Thou art lost, both thou and all of us.

OCTAVIO. What hazard I incur thereby, I know. In the great hand of God I stand. The Almighty Will cover with his shield the imperial house, And shatter, in his wrath, the work of darkness. The emperor hath true servants still; and even Here in the camp, there are enough brave men Who for the good cause will fight gallantly. The faithful have been warned—the dangerous Are closely watched. I wait but the first step, And then immediately——

Max. What? On suspicion? Immediately?

OCTAVIO. The emperor is no tyrant. The deed alone he'll punish, not the wish. The duke hath yet his destiny in his power. Let him but leave the treason uncompleted, He will be silently displaced from office, And make way to his emperor's royal son. An honorable exile to his castles Will be a benefaction to him rather Than punishment. But the first open step——

MAX. What callest thou such a step? A wicked step Ne'er will he take; but thou mightest easily, Yea, thou hast done it, misinterpret him.

OCTAVIO. Nay, howsoever punishable were Duke Friedland's purposes, yet still the steps Which he hath taken openly permit A mild construction. It is my intention To leave this paper wholly unenforced Till some act is committed which convicts him Of high treason, without doubt or plea, And that shall sentence him.

MAX. But who the judge

OCTAVIO. Thyself.

MAX. Forever, then, this paper will lie idle.

OCTAVIO. Too soon, I fear, its powers must all be proved. After the counter-promise of this evening, It cannot be but he must deem himself Secure of the majority with us; And of the army's general sentiment He hath a pleasing proof in that petition, Which thou delivered'st to him from the regiments. Add this too—I have letters that the Rhinegrave Hath changed his route, and travels by forced marches To the Bohemian forests. What this purports Remains unknown; and, to confirm suspicion, This night a Swedish nobleman arrived here.

MAX. I have thy word. Thou'lt not proceed to action Before thou hast convinced me—me myself.

OCTAVIO. Is it possible? Still, after all thou know'st, Canst thou believe still in his innocence?

MAX. (with enthusiasm). Thy judgment may mistake; my heart cannot. [Moderates his voice and manner. These reasons might expound thy spirit or mine; But they expound not Friedland—I have faith: For as he knits his fortunes to the stars, Even so doth he resemble them in secret, Wonderful, still inexplicable courses! Trust me, they do him wrong. All will be solved. These smokes at once will kindle into flame— The edges of this black and stormy cloud Will brighten suddenly, and we shall view The unapproachable glide out in splendor.

OCTAVIO. I will await it.



SCENE II.

OCTAVIO and MAX. as before. To then the VALET OF THE CHAMBER.

OCTAVIO. How now, then?

VALET. A despatch is at the door.

OCTAVIO. So early? From whom comes he then? Who is it?

VALET. That he refused to tell me.

OCTAVIO. Lead him in: And, hark you—let it not transpire.

[Exit VALET: the CORNET steps in.

OCTAVIO. Ha! cornet—is it you; and from Count Gallas? Give me your letters.

CORNET. The lieutenant-general Trusted it not to letters.

OCTAVIO. And what is it?

CORNET. He bade me tell you—Dare I speak openly here?

OCTAVIO. My son knows all.

CORNET. We have him.

OCTAVIO. Whom?

CORNET. Sesina, The old negotiator.

OCTAVIO (eagerly). And you have him?

CORNET. In the Bohemian Forest Captain Mohrbrand Found and secured him yester-morning early. He was proceeding then to Regensburg, And on him were despatches for the Swede.

OCTAVIO. And the despatches——

CORNET. The lieutenant-general Sent them that instant to Vienna, and The prisoner with them.

OCTAVIO. This is, indeed, a tiding! That fellow is a precious casket to us, Enclosing weighty things. Was much found on him?

CORNET. I think, six packets, with Count Terzky's arms.

OCTAVIO. None in the duke's own hand?

CORNET. Not that I know.

OCTAVIO. And old Sesina.

CORNET. He was sorely frightened. When it was told him he must to Vienna; But the Count Altringer bade him take heart, Would he but make a full and free confession.

OCTAVIO. Is Altringer then with your lord? I heard That he lay sick at Linz.

CORNET. These three days past He's with my master, the lieutenant-general, At Frauenburg. Already have they sixty Small companies together, chosen men; Respectfully they greet you with assurances, That they are only waiting your commands.

OCTAVIO. In a few days may great events take place. And when must you return?

CORNET. I wait your orders.

OCTAVIO. Remain till evening. [CORNET signifies his assent and obeisance, and is going. No one saw you—ha?

CORNET. No living creature. Through the cloister wicket The capuchins, as usual, let me in.

OCTAVIO. Go, rest your limbs, and keep yourself concealed. I hold it probable that yet ere evening I shall despatch you. The development Of this affair approaches: ere the day, That even now is dawning in the heaven, Ere this eventful day hath set, the lot That must decide our fortunes will be drawn.

[Exit CORNET.



SCENE III.

OCTAVIO and MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

OCTAVIO. Well—and what now, son? All will soon be clear; For all, I'm certain, went through that Sesina.

MAX. (who through the whole of the foregoing scene has been in a violent and visible struggle of feelings, at length starts as one resolved). I will procure me light a shorter way. Farewell.

OCTAVIO. Where now? Remain here.

MAX. To the Duke.

OCTAVIO (alarmed). What——

MAX. (returning). If thou hast believed that I shall act A part in this thy play, thou hast Miscalculated on me grievously. My way must be straight on. True with the tongue, False with the heart—I may not, cannot be Nor can I suffer that a man should trust me— As his friend trust me—and then lull my conscience With such low pleas as these: "I ask him not— He did it all at his own hazard—and My mouth has never lied to him." No, no! What a friend takes me for, that I must be. I'll to the duke; ere yet this day is ended Will I demand of him that he do save His good name from the world, and with one stride Break through and rend this fine-spun web of yours. He can, he will! I still am his believer, Yet I'll not pledge myself, but that those letters May furnish you, perchance, with proofs against him. How far may not this Terzky have proceeded— What may not he himself too have permitted Himself to do, to snare the enemy, The laws of war excusing? Nothing, save His own mouth shall convict him—nothing less! And face to face will I go question him.

OCTAVIO. Thou wilt.

MAX. I will, as sure as this heart beats.

OCTAVIO. I have, indeed, miscalculated on thee. I calculated on a prudent son, Who would have blessed the hand beneficent That plucked him back from the abyss—and lo! A fascinated being I discover, Whom his two eyes befool, whom passion wilders, Whom not the broadest light of noon can heal. Go, question him! Be mad enough, I pray thee. The purpose of thy father, of thy emperor, Go, give it up free booty! Force me, drive me To an open breach before the time. And now, Now that a miracle of heaven had guarded My secret purpose even to this hour, And laid to sleep suspicion's piercing eyes, Let me have lived to see that mine own son, With frantic enterprise, annihilates My toilsome labors and state policy.

MAX. Ay—this state policy! Oh, how I curse it! You will some time, with your state policy, Compel him to the measure: it may happen, Because ye are determined that he is guilty, Guilty ye'll make him. All retreat cut off, You close up every outlet, hem him in Narrower and narrower, till at length ye force him— Yes, ye, ye force him, in his desperation, To set fire to his prison. Father! father! That never can end well—it cannot—will not! And let it be decided as it may, I see with boding heart the near approach Of an ill-starred, unblest catastrophe. For this great monarch-spirit, if he fall, Will drag a world into the ruin with him. And as a ship that midway on the ocean Takes fire, at once, and with a thunder-burst Explodes, and with itself shoots out its crew In smoke and ruin betwixt sea and heaven! So will he, falling, draw down in his fall All us, who're fixed and mortised to his fortune, Deem of it what thou wilt; but pardon me, That I must bear me on in my own way. All must remain pure betwixt him and me; And, ere the daylight dawns, it must be known Which I must lose—my father or my friend.

[During his exit the curtain drops.



FOOTNOTES.

[1] A town about twelve German miles N.E. of Ulm.

[2] The Dukes in Germany being always reigning powers, their sons and daughters are entitled princes and princesses.

[3] Carinthia.

[4] A town not far from the Mine-mountains, on the high road from Vienna to Prague.

[5] In the original,—

"Den blut'gen Lorbeer geb' ich hin mit Freuden Fuers erste Veilchen, das der Maerz uns bringt, Das duerftige Pfand der neuverjuengten Erde."

[6] A reviewer in the Literary Gazette observes that, in these lines, Mr. Coleridge has misapprehended the meaning of the word "Zug," a team, translating it as "Anzug," a suit of clothes. The following version, as a substitute, I propose:—

When from your stables there is brought to me A team of four most richly harnessed horses.

The term, however, is "Jagd-zug" which may mean a "hunting equipage," or a "hunting stud;" although Hilpert gives only "a team of four horses."

[7] Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar, who succeeded Gustavus in command.

[8] The original is not translatable into English:—

—Und sein Sold Muss dem Soldaten werden, darnach heisst er.

It might perhaps have been thus rendered:—

And that for which he sold his services, The soldier must receive—

but a false or doubtful etymology is no more than a dull pun.

[9] In Germany, after honorable addresses have been paid and formally accepted, the lovers are called bride and bridegreoom, even though the marriage should not take place till years afterwards.

[10] I am doubtful whether this be the dedication of the cloister, or the name of one of the city gates, near which it stood. I have translated it in the former sense; but fearful of having made some blunder, I add the original,—

Es ist ein Kloster hier zur Himmelspforte.

[11] No more of talk, where god or angel guest With man, as with his friend familiar, used To sit indulgent. Paradise Lost, B. IX.

[12] I found it not in my power to translate this song with literal fidelity preserving at the same time the Alcaic movement, and have therefore added the original, with a prose translation. Some of my readers may be more fortunate.

THEKLA (spielt and singt).

Der Eichwald brauset, die Wolken ziehn, Das Maegdlein wandelt an Ufers Gruen; Es bricht sich die Welle mit Macht, mit Macht, Und sie singt hinaus in die finstre Nacht, Das Auge von Weinen getruebet: Das Herz is gestorben, die Welt ist leer, Und weiter giebt sie dem Wunsche nichts mehr. Du Heilige, rufe dein Kind zurueck, Ich babe genossen das irdische Glueck, Ich babe gelebt and geliebet.

LITERAL TRANSLATION.

THEKLA (plays and sings). The oak-forest bellows, the clouds gather, the damsel walks to and fro on the green of the shore; the wave breaks with might, with might, and she sings out into the dark night, her eye discolored with weeping: the heart is dead, the world is empty, and further gives it nothing more to the wish. Thou Holy One, call thy child home. I have enjoyed the happiness of this world, I have lived and have loved.

I cannot but add here an imitation of this song, with which my friend, Charles Lamb, has favored me, and which appears to me to have caught the happiest manner of our old ballads:—

The clouds are blackening, the storms are threatening, The cavern doth mutter, the greenwood moan! Billows are breaking, the damsel's heart aching, Thus in the dark night she singeth alone, He eye upward roving:

The world is empty, the heart is dead surely, In this world plainly all seemeth amiss; To thy heaven, Holy One, take home thy little one. I have partaken of all earth's bliss, Both living and loving.

[13] There are few who will not have taste enough to laugh at the two concluding lines of this soliloquy: and still fewer, I would fain hope, who would not have been more disposed to shudder, had I given a faithful translation. For the readers of German I have added the original:—

Blind-wuethend schleudert selbst der Gott der Freude Den Pechkranz in das brennende Gebaeude.



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN.

Translated by S. T. Coleridge.



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

WALLENSTEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the Imperial Forces in the Thirty Years' War. DUCHESS OF FREIDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein. THEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland. THE COUNTESS TERZKY, Sister of the Duchess. LADY NEUBRUNN. OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, Lieutenant-General. MAX. PICCOLOMINI, his Son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cuirassiers. COUNT TERZKY, the Commander of several Regiments, and Brother-in-law of Wallenstein. ILLO, Field-Marshal, Wallenstein's Confidant. ISOLANI, General of the Croats. BUTLER, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoons. GORDON, Governor of Egra. MAJOR GERALDIN. CAPTAIN DEVEREUX. CAPTAIN MACDONALD. AN ADJUTANT. NEUMANN, Captain of Cavalry, Aide-de-Camp to TERZKY. COLONEL WRANGEL, Envoy from the Swedes. ROSENBURG, Master of Horse. SWEDISH CAPTAIN. SENI. BURGOMASTER of Egra. ANSPESSADE of the Cuirassiers. GROOM OF THE CHAMBER. Belonging A PAGE. to the Duke. Cuirassiers, Dragoons, and Servants.



ACT I.

SCENE I.

A room fitted up for astrological labors, and provided with celestial charts, with globes, telescopes, quadrants, and other mathematical instruments. Seven colossal figures, representing the planets, each with a transparent star of different color on its head, stand in a semicircle in the background, so that Mars and Saturn are nearest the eye. The remainder of the scene and its disposition is given in the fourth scene of the second act. There must be a curtain over the figures, which may be dropped and conceal them on occasions.

[In the fifth scene of this act it must be dropped; but in the seventh scene it must be again drawn up wholly or in part.]

WALLENSTEIN at a black table, on which, a speculum astrologicum is described with chalk. SENI is taking observations through a window.

WALLENSTEIN. All well—and now let it be ended, Seni. Come, The dawn commences, and Mars rules the hour; We must give o'er the operation. Come, We know enough.

SENI. Your highness must permit me Just to contemplate Venus. She is now rising Like as a sun so shines she in the east.

WALLENSTEIN. She is at present in her perigee, And now shoots down her strongest influences. [Contemplating the figure on the table. Auspicious aspect! fateful in conjunction, At length the mighty three corradiate; And the two stars of blessing, Jupiter And Venus, take between them the malignant Slyly-malicious Mars, and thus compel Into my service that old mischief-founder: For long he viewed me hostilely, and ever With beam oblique, or perpendicular, Now in the Quartile, now in the Secundan, Shot his red lightnings at my stars, disturbing Their blessed influences and sweet aspects: Now they have conquered the old enemy, And bring him in the heavens a prisoner to me.

SENI (who has come down from the window). And in a corner-house, your highness—think of that! That makes each influence of double strength.

WALLENSTEIN. And sun and moon, too, in the Sextile aspect, The soft light with the vehement—so I love it. Sol is the heart, Luna the head of heaven, Bold be the plan, fiery the execution.

SENI. And both the mighty Lumina by no Maleficus affronted. Lo! Saturnus, Innocuous, powerless, in cadente Domo.

WALLENSTEIN. The empire of Saturnus is gone by; Lord of the secret birth of things is he; Within the lap of earth, and in the depths Of the imagination dominates; And his are all things that eschew the light. The time is o'er of brooding and contrivance, For Jupiter, the lustrous, lordeth now, And the dark work, complete of preparation, He draws by force into the realm of light. Now must we hasten on to action, ere The scheme, and most auspicious positure Parts o'er my head, and takes once more its flight, For the heaven's journey still, and adjourn not. [There are knocks at the door. There's some one knocking there. See who it is.

TERZKY (from without). Open, and let me in.

WALLENSTEIN. Ay—'tis Terzky. What is there of such urgence? We are busy.

TERZKY (from without). Lay all aside at present, I entreat you; It suffers no delaying.

WALLENSTEIN. Open, Seni!

[While SENI opens the door for TERZKY, WALLENSTEIN draws the curtain over the figures.



SCENE II.

WALLENSTEIN, COUNT TERZKY.

TERZKY (enters). Hast thou already heard it? He is taken. Gallas has given him up to the emperor.

[SENI draws off the black table, and exit.

WALLENSTEIN (to TERZKY). Who has been taken? Who is given up?

TERZKY. The man who knows our secrets, who knows every Negotiation with the Swede and Saxon, Through whose hands all and everything has passed——

WALLENSTEIN (drawing back). Nay, not Sesina? Say, no! I entreat thee.

TERZKY. All on his road for Regensburg to the Swede He was plunged down upon by Gallas' agent, Who had been long in ambush, lurking for him. There must have been found on him my whole packet To Thur, to Kinsky, to Oxenstiern, to Arnheim: All this is in their hands; they have now an insight Into the whole—our measures and our motives.



SCENE III.

To them enters ILLO.

ILLO (to TERZKY). Has he heard it?

TERZKY. He has heard it.

ILLO (to WALLENSTEIN). Thinkest thou still To make thy peace with the emperor, to regain His confidence? E'en were it now thy wish To abandon all thy plans, yet still they know What thou hast wished: then forwards thou must press; Retreat is now no longer in thy power.

TERZKY. They have documents against us, and in hands, Which show beyond all power of contradiction——

WALLENSTEIN. Of my handwriting—no iota. Thee I punish or thy lies.

ILLO. And thou believest, That what this man, and what thy sister's husband, Did in thy name, will not stand on thy reckoning? His word must pass for thy word with the Swede, And not with those that hate thee at Vienna?

TERZKY. In writing thou gavest nothing; but bethink thee, How far thou venturedst by word of mouth With this Sesina! And will he be silent? If he can save himself by yielding up Thy secret purposes, will he retain them?

ILLO. Thyself dost not conceive it possible; And since they now have evidence authentic How far thou hast already gone, speak! tell us, What art thou waiting for? Thou canst no longer Keep thy command; and beyond hope of rescue Thou'rt lost if thou resign'st it.

WALLENSTEIN. In the army Lies my security. The army will not Abandon me. Whatever they may know, The power is mine, and they must gulp it down And if I give them caution for my fealty, They must be satisfied, at least appear so.

ILLO. The army, duke, is thine now; for this moment 'Tis thine: but think with terror on the slow, The quiet power of time. From open violence The attachment of thy soldiery secures thee To-day, to-morrow: but grant'st thou them a respite, Unheard, unseen, they'll undermine that love On which thou now dost feel so firm a footing, With wily theft will draw away from thee One after the other——

WALLENSTEIN. 'Tis a cursed accident! Oh! I will call it a most blessed one, If it work on thee as it ought to do, Hurry thee on to action—to decision. The Swedish general?

WALLENSTEIN. He's arrived! Know'st What his commission is——

ILLO. To thee alone Will he intrust the purpose of his coming.

WALLENSTEIN. A cursed, cursed accident! Yes, yes, Sesina knows too much, and won't be silent.

TERZKY. He's a Bohemian fugitive and rebel, His neck is forfeit. Can he save himself At thy cost, think you he will scruple it? And if they put him to the torture, will he, Will he, that dastardling, have strength enough——

WALLENSTEIN (lost in thought). Their confidence is lost, irreparably! And I may act which way I will, I shall Be and remain forever in their thought A traitor to my country. How sincerely Soever I return back to my duty, It will no longer help me——

ILLO. Ruin thee, That it will do! Not thy fidelity, Thy weakness will be deemed the sole occasion——

WALLENSTEIN (pacing up and down in extreme agitation). What! I must realize it now in earnest, Because I toyed too freely with the thought! Accursed he who dallies with a devil! And must I—I must realize it now— Now, while I have the power, it must take place!

ILLO. Now—now—ere they can ward and parry it!

WALLENSTEIN (looking at the paper of Signatures). I have the generals' word—a written promise! Max. Piccolomini stands not here—how's that?

TERZRY. It was—be fancied——

ILLO. Mere self-willedness. There needed no such thing 'twixt him and you.

WALLENSTEIN. He is quite right; there needed no such thing. The regiments, too, deny to march for Flanders Have sent me in a paper of remonstrance, And openly resist the imperial orders. The first step to revolt's already taken.

ILLO. Believe me, thou wilt find it far more easy To lead them over to the enemy Than to the Spaniard.

WALLENSTEIN. I will hear, however, What the Swede has to say to me.

ILLO (eagerly to TERZKY). Go, call him, He stands without the door in waiting.

WALLENSTEIN. Stay! Stay but a little. It hath taken me All by surprise; it came too quick upon me; 'Tis wholly novel that an accident, With its dark lordship, and blind agency, Should force me on with it.

ILLO. First hear him only, And then weigh it.

[Exeunt TERZKY and ILLO.



SCENE IV.

WALLENSTEIN (in soliloquy). Is it possible? Is't so? I can no longer what I would? No longer draw back at my liking? I Must do the deed, because I thought of it? And fed this heart here with a dream? Because I did not scowl temptation from my presence, Dallied with thoughts of possible fulfilment, Commenced no movement, left all time uncertain, And only kept the road, the access open? By the great God of Heaven! it was not My serious meaning, it was ne'er resolved. I but amused myself with thinking of it. The free-will tempted me, the power to do Or not to do it. Was it criminal To make the fancy minister to hope, To fill the air with pretty toys of air, And clutch fantastic sceptres moving toward me? Was not the will kept free? Beheld I not The road of duty close beside me—but One little step, and once more I was in it! Where am I? Whither have I been transported? No road, no track behind me, but a wall, Impenetrable, insurmountable, Rises obedient to the spells I muttered And meant not—my own doings tower behind me. [Pauses and remains in deep thought. A punishable man I seem, the guilt, Try what I will, I cannot roll off from me; The equivocal demeanor of my life Bears witness on my prosecutor's party. And even my purest acts from purest motives Suspicion poisons with malicious gloss. Were I that thing for which I pass, that traitor, A goodly outside I had sure reserved, Had drawn the coverings thick and double round me, Been calm and chary of my utterance; But being conscious of the innocence Of my intent, my uncorrupted will, I gave way to my humors, to my passion: Bold were my words, because my deeds were not Now every planless measure, chance event, The threat of rage, the vaunt of joy and triumph, And all the May-games of a heart overflowing, Will they connect, and weave them all together Into one web of treason; all will be plan, My eye ne'er absent from the far-off mark, Step tracing step, each step a politic progress; And out of all they'll fabricate a charge So specious, that I must myself stand dumb. I am caught in my own net, and only force, Naught but a sudden rent can liberate me.

[Pauses again.

How else! since that the heart's unbiased instinct Impelled me to the daring deed, which now Necessity, self-preservation, orders. Stern is the on-look of necessity, Not without shudder may a human hand Grasp the mysterious urn of destiny. My deed was mine, remaining in my bosom; Once suffered to escape from its safe corner Within the heart, its nursery and birthplace, Sent forth into the foreign, it belongs Forever to those sly malicious powers Whom never art of man conciliated.

[Paces in agitation through the chamber, then pauses, and, after the pause, breaks out again into audible soliloquy.

What it thy enterprise? thy aim? thy object? Hast honestly confessed it to thyself? Power seated on a quiet throne thou'dst shake, Power on an ancient, consecrated throne, Strong in possession, founded in all custom; Power by a thousand tough and stringy roots Fixed to the people's pious nursery faith. This, this will be no strife of strength with strength. That feared I not. I brave each combatant, Whom I can look on, fixing eye to eye, Who, full himself of courage, kindles courage In me too. 'Tis a foe invisible The which I fear—a fearful enemy, Which in the human heart opposes me, By its coward fear alone made fearful to me. Not that, which full of life, instinct with power, Makes known its present being; that is not The true, the perilously formidable. O no! it is the common, the quite common, The thing of an eternal yesterday. Whatever was, and evermore returns, Sterling to-morrow, for to-day 'twas sterling! For of the wholly common is man made, And custom is his nurse! Woe then to them Who lay irreverent hands upon his old House furniture, the dear inheritance From his forefathers! For time consecrates; And what is gray with age becomes religion. Be in possession, and thou hast the right, And sacred will the many guard it for thee!

[To the PAGE,—who here enters.

The Swedish officer? Well, let him enter.

[The PAGE exit, WALLENSTEIN fixes his eye in deep thought on the door.

Yet, it is pure—as yet!—the crime has come Not o'er this threshold yet—so slender is The boundary that divideth life's two paths.



SCENE V.

WALLENSTEIN and WRANGEL.

WALLENSTEIN (after having fixed a searching look on him). Your name is Wrangel?

WRANGEL. Gustave Wrangel, General Of the Sudermanian Blues.

WALLENSTEIN. It was a Wrangel Who injured me materially at Stralsund, And by his brave resistance was the cause Of the opposition which that seaport made.

WRANGEL. It was the doing of the element With which you fought, my lord! and not my merit, The Baltic Neptune did assert his freedom: The sea and land, it seemed were not to serve One and the same.

WALLENSTEIN You plucked the admiral's hat from off my head.

WRANGEL. I come to place a diadem thereon.

WALLENSTEIN (makes the motion for him to take a seat, and seats himself). And where are your credentials Come you provided with full powers, sir general?

WRANGEL. There are so many scruples yet to solve——

WALLENSTEIN (having read the credentials). An able letter! Ay—he is a prudent, Intelligent master whom you serve, sir general! The chancellor writes me that he but fulfils His late departed sovereign's own idea In helping me to the Bohemian crown.

WRANGEL. He says the truth. Our great king, now in heaven, Did ever deem most highly of your grace's Pre-eminent sense and military genius; And always the commanding intellect, He said, should have command, and be the king.

WALLENSTEIN. Yes, he might say it safely. General Wrangel, [Taking his hand affectionately. Come, fair and open. Trust me, I was always A Swede at heart. Eh! that did you experience Both in Silesia and at Nuremberg; I had you often in my power, and let you Always slip out by some back door or other. 'Tis this for which the court can ne'er forgive me, Which drives me to this present step: and since Our interests so run in one direction, E'en let us have a thorough confidence Each in the other.

WRANGEL. Confidence will come Has each but only first security.

WALLENSTEIN. The chancellor still, I see, does not quite trust me; And, I confess—the game does not lie wholly To my advantage. Without doubt he thinks, If I can play false with the emperor, Who is my sovereign, I can do the like With the enemy, and that the one, too, were Sooner to be forgiven me than the other. Is not this your opinion, too, sir general?

WRANGEL. I have here a duty merely, no opinion.

WALLENSTEIN. The emperor hath urged me to the uttermost I can no longer honorably serve him. For my security, in self-defence, I take this hard step, which my conscience blames.

WRANGEL. That I believe. So far would no one go Who was not forced to it. [After a pause. What may have impelled Your princely highness in this wise to act Toward your sovereign lord and emperor, Beseems not us to expound or criticise. The Swede is fighting for his good old cause, With his good sword and conscience. This concurrence, This opportunity is in our favor, And all advantages in war are lawful. We take what offers without questioning; And if all have its due and just proportions——

WALLENSTEIN. Of what then are ye doubting? Of my will? Or of my power? I pledged me to the chancellor, Would he trust me with sixteen thousand men, That I would instantly go over to them With eighteen thousand of the emperor's troops.

WRANGEL. Your grace is known to be a mighty war-chief, To be a second Attila and Pyrrhus. 'Tis talked of still with fresh astonishment, How some years past, beyond all human faith, You called an army forth like a creation: But yet——

WALLENSTEIN. But yet?

WRANGEL. But still the chancellor thinks It might yet be an easier thing from nothing To call forth sixty thousand men of battle, Than to persuade one-sixtieth part of them——

WALLENSTEIN. What now? Out with it, friend?

WRANGEL. To break their oaths.

WALLENSTEIN. And he thinks so? He judges like a Swede, And like a Protestant. You Lutherans Fight for your Bible. You are interested About the cause; and with your hearts you follow Your banners. Among you whoe'er deserts To the enemy hath broken covenant With two lords at one time. We've no such fancies.

WRANGEL. Great God in heaven! Have then the people here No house and home, no fireside, no altar?

WALLENSTEIN. I will explain that to you, how it stands: The Austrian has a country, ay, and loves it, And has good cause to love it—but this army That calls itself the imperial, this that houses Here in Bohemia, this has none—no country; This is an outcast of all foreign lands, Unclaimed by town or tribe, to whom belongs Nothing except the universal sun. And this Bohemian land for which we fight Loves not the master whom the chance of war, Not its own choice or will, hath given to it. Men murmur at the oppression of their conscience, And power hath only awed but not appeased them. A glowing and avenging memory lives Of cruel deeds committed on these plains; How can the son forget that here his father Was hunted by the bloodhound to the mass? A people thus oppressed must still be feared, Whether they suffer or avenge their wrongs.

WRANGEL. But then the nobles and the officers? Such a desertion, such a felony, It is without example, my lord duke, In the world's history.

WALLENSTEIN. They are all mine— Mine unconditionally—mine on all terms. Not me, your own eyes you must trust.

[He gives him the paper containing the written oath. WRANGEL reads it through, and, having read it, lays it on the table,—remaining silent.

So then; Now comprehend you?

WRANGEL. Comprehend who can! My lord duke, I will let the mask drop—yes! I've full powers for a final settlement. The Rhinegrave stands but four days' march from here With fifteen thousand men, and only waits For orders to proceed and join your army. These orders I give out immediately We're compromised.

WALLENSTEIN. What asks the chancellor?

WRANGEL (considerately). Twelve regiments, every man a Swede—my head The warranty—and all might prove at last Only false play——

WALLENSTEIN (starting). Sir Swede!

WRANGEL (calmly proceeding). Am therefore forced To insist thereon, that he do formally, Irrevocably break with the emperor, Else not a Swede is trusted to Duke Friedland.

WALLENSTEIN. Come, brief and open! What is the demand?

WRANGEL. That he forthwith disarm the Spanish regiments Attached to the emperor, that he seize on Prague, And to the Swedes give up that city, with The strong pass Egra.

WALLENSTEIN. That is much indeed! Prague!—Egra's granted—but—but Prague! 'Twon't do. I give you every security Which you may ask of me in common reason— But Prague—Bohemia—these, sir general, I can myself protect.

WRANGEL. We doubt it not. But 'tis not the protection that is now Our sole concern. We want security, That we shall not expend our men and money All to no purpose.

WALLENSTEIN. 'Tis but reasonable.

WRANGEL. And till we are indemnified, so long Stays Prague in pledge.

WALLENSTEIN. Then trust you us so little?

WRANGEL (rising). The Swede, if he would treat well with the German, Must keep a sharp lookout. We have been called Over the Baltic, we have saved the empire From ruin—with our best blood have we sealed The liberty of faith and gospel truth. But now already is the benefaction No longer felt, the load alone is felt. Ye look askance with evil eye upon us, As foreigners, intruders in the empire, And would fain send us with some paltry sum Of money, home again to our old forests. No, no! my lord duke! it never was For Judas' pay, for chinking gold and silver, That we did leave our king by the Great Stone. [1] No, not for gold and silver have there bled So many of our Swedish nobles—neither Will we, with empty laurels for our payment, Hoist sail for our own country. Citizens Will we remain upon the soil, the which Our monarch conquered for himself and died.

WALLENSTEIN. Help to keep down the common enemy, And the fair border land must needs be yours.

WRANGEL. But when the common enemy lies vanquished, Who knits together our new friendship then? We know, Duke Friedland! though perhaps the Swede Ought not to have known it, that you carry on Secret negotiations with the Saxons. Who is our warranty that we are not The sacrifices in those articles Which 'tis thought needful to conceal from us?

WALLENSTEIN (rises). Think you of something better, Gustave Wrangel! Of Prague no more.

WRANGEL. Here my commission ends.

WALLENSTEIN. Surrender up to you my capital! Far liever would I force about, and step Back to my emperor.

WRANGEL. If time yet permits——

WALLENSTEIN. That lies with me, even now, at any hour.

WRANGEL. Some days ago, perhaps. To-day, no longer; No longer since Sesina's been a prisoner. [WALLENSTEIN is struck, and silenced. My lord duke, hear me—we believe that you At present do mean honorably by us. Since yesterday we're sure of that—and now This paper warrants for the troops, there's nothing Stands in the way of our full confidence. Prague shall not part us. Hear! The chancellor Contents himself with Alstadt; to your grace He gives up Ratschin and the narrow side. But Egra above all must open to us, Ere we can think of any junction.

WALLENSTEIN. You, You therefore must I trust, and not you me? I will consider of your proposition.

WRANGEL. I must entreat that your consideration Occupy not too long a time. Already Has this negotiation, my lord duke! Crept on into the second year. If nothing Is settled this time, will the chancellor Consider it as broken off forever?

WALLENSTEIN. Ye press me hard. A measure such as this Ought to be thought of.

WRANGEL. Ay! but think of this too, That sudden action only can procure it. Success—think first of this, your highness.

[Exit WRANGEL.



SCENE VI.

WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, and ILLO (re-enter).

ILLO. Is't all right?

TERZKY. Are you compromised?

ILLO. This Swede Went smiling from you. Yes! you're compromised.

WALLENSTEIN. As yet is nothing settled; and (well weighed) I feel myself inclined to leave it so.

TERZKY. How? What is that?

WALLENSTEIN. Come on me what will come, The doing evil to avoid an evil Cannot be good!

TERZKY. Nay, but bethink you, duke.

WALLENSTEIN. To live upon the mercy of these Swedes! Of these proud-hearted Swedes!—I could not bear it.

ILLO. Goest thou as fugitive, as mendicant? Bringest thou not more to them than thou receivest?

WALLENSTEIN. How fared it with the brave and royal Bourbon Who sold himself unto his country's foes, And pierced the bosom of his father-land? Curses were his reward, and men's abhorrence Avenged the unnatural and revolting deed.

ILLO. Is that thy case?

WALLENSTEIN. True faith, I tell thee, Must ever be the dearest friend of man His nature prompts him to assert its rights. The enmity of sects, the rage of parties, Long-cherished envy, jealousy, unite;' And all the struggling elements of evil Suspend their conflict, and together league In one alliance 'gainst their common foe— The savage beast that breaks into the fold, Where men repose in confidence and peace. For vain were man's own prudence to protect him. 'Tis only in the forehead nature plants The watchful eye; the back, without defence, Must find its shield in man's fidelity.

TERZKY. Think not more meanly off thyself than do Thy foes, who stretch their hands with joy to greet thee. Less scrupulous far was the imperial Charles, The powerful head of this illustrious house; With open arms he gave the Bourbon welcome; For still by policy the world is ruled.



SCENE VII.

To these enter the COUNTESS TERZKY.

WALLENSTEIN. Who sent for you? There is no business here For women.

COUNTESS I am come to bid you joy.

WALLENSTEIN. Use thy authority, Terzky; bid her go.

COUNTESS. Come I perhaps too early? I hope not.

WALLENSTEIN. Set not this tongue upon me, I entreat you: You know it is the weapon that destroys me. I am routed, if a woman but attack me: I cannot traffic in the trade of words With that unreasoning sex.

COUNTESS. I had already Given the Bohemians a king.

WALLENSTEIN (sarcastically). They have one, In consequence, no doubt.

COUNTESS (to the others). Ha! what new scruple?

TERZKY. The duke will not.

COUNTESS. He will not what he must!

ILLO. It lies with you now. Try. For I am silenced When folks begin to talk to me of conscience And of fidelity.

COUNTESS. How? then, when all Lay in the far-off distance, when the road Stretched out before thine eyes interminably, Then hadst thou courage and resolve; and now, Now that the dream is being realized, The purpose ripe, the issue ascertained, Dost thou begin to play the dastard now? Planned merely, 'tis a common felony; Accomplished, an immortal undertaking: And with success comes pardon hand in hand, For all event is God's arbitrament.

SERVANT (enters). The Colonel Piccolomini.

COUNTESS (hastily). —Must wait.

WALLENSTEIN. I cannot see him now. Another time.

SERVANT. But for two minutes he entreats an audience Of the most urgent nature is his business.

WALLENSTEIN. Who knows what he may bring us! I will hear him.

COUNTESS (laughs). Urgent for him, no doubt? but thou may'st wait.

WALLENSTEIN. What is it?

COUNTESS. Thou shalt be informed hereafter. First let the Swede and thee be compromised.

[Exit SERVANT.

WALLENSTEIN. If there were yet a choice! if yet some milder Way of escape were possible—I still Will choose it, and avoid the last extreme.

COUNTESS. Desirest thou nothing further? Such a way Lies still before thee. Send this Wrangel off. Forget thou thy old hopes, cast far away All thy past life; determine to commence A new one. Virtue hath her heroes too, As well as fame and fortune. To Vienna Hence—to the emperor—kneel before the throne; Take a full coffer with thee—say aloud, Thou didst but wish to prove thy fealty; Thy whole intention but to dupe the Swede.

ILLO. For that too 'tis too late. They know too much; He would but bear his own head to the block.

COUNTESS. I fear not that. They have not evidence To attaint him legally, and they avoid The avowal of an arbitrary power. They'll let the duke resign without disturbance. I see how all will end. The King of Hungary Makes his appearance, and 'twill of itself Be understood, and then the duke retires. There will not want a formal declaration. The young king will administer the oath To the whole army; and so all returns To the old position. On some morrow morning The duke departs; and now 'tis stir and bustle Within his castles. He will hunt and build; Superintend his horses' pedigrees, Creates himself a court, gives golden keys, And introduceth strictest ceremony In fine proportions, and nice etiquette; Keeps open table with high cheer: in brief, Commenceth mighty king—in miniature. And while he prudently demeans himself, And gives himself no actual importance, He will be let appear whate'er he likes: And who dares doubt, that Friedland will appear A mighty prince to his last dying hour? Well now, what then? Duke Friedland is as others, A fire-new noble, whom the war hath raised To price and currency, a Jonah's gourd, An over-night creation of court-favor, Which, with an undistinguishable ease, Makes baron or makes prince.

WALLENSTEIN (in extreme agitation). Take her away. Let in the young Count Piccolomini.

COUNTESS. Art thou in earnest? I entreat thee! Canst thou consent to bear thyself to thy own grave, So ignominiously to be dried up? Thy life, that arrogated such an height To end in such a nothing! To be nothing, When one was always nothing, is an evil That asks no stretch of patience, a light evil; But to become a nothing, having been——

WALLENSTEIN (starts up in violent agitation). Show me a way out of this stifling crowd, Ye powers of aidance! Show me such a way As I am capable of going. I Am no tongue-hero, no fine virtue-prattler; I cannot warm by thinking; cannot say To the good luck that turns her back upon me Magnanimously: "Go; I need thee not." Cease I to work, I am annihilated. Dangers nor sacrifices will I shun, If so I may avoid the last extreme; But ere I sink down into nothingness, Leave off so little, who began so great, Ere that the world confuses me with those Poor wretches, whom a day creates and crumbles, This age and after ages [2] speak my name With hate and dread; and Friedland be redemption For each accursed deed.

COUNTESS. What is there here, then, So against nature? Help me to perceive it! Oh, let not superstition's nightly goblins Subdue thy clear, bright spirit! Art thou bid To murder? with abhorred, accursed poniard, To violate the breasts that nourished thee? That were against our nature, that might aptly Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart sicken. [3] Yet not a few, and for a meaner object, Have ventured even this, ay, and performed it. What is there in thy case so black and monstrous? Thou art accused of treason—whether with Or without justice is not now the question— Thou art lost if thou dost not avail thee quickly Of the power which thou possessest—Friedland! Duke! Tell me where lives that thing so meek and tame, That doth not all his living faculties Put forth in preservation of his life? What deed so daring, which necessity And desperation will not sanctify?

WALLENSTEIN. Once was this Ferdinand so gracious to me; He loved me; he esteemed me; I was placed The nearest to his heart. Full many a time We like familiar friends, both at one table, Have banqueted together—he and I; And the young kings themselves held me the basin Wherewith to wash me—and is't come to this?

COUNTESS. So faithfully preservest thou each small favor, And hast no memory for contumelies? Must I remind thee, how at Regensburg This man repaid thy faithful services? All ranks and all conditions in the empire Thou hadst wronged to make him great,—hadst loaded on thee, On thee, the hate, the curse of the whole world. No friend existed for thee in all Germany, And why? because thou hadst existed only For the emperor. To the emperor alone Clung Friedland in that storm which gathered round him At Regensburg in the Diet—and he dropped thee! He let thee fall! he let thee fall a victim To the Bavarian, to that insolent! Deposed, stripped bare of all thy dignity And power, amid the taunting of thy foe Thou wert let drop into obscurity. Say not, the restoration of thy honor Has made atonement for that first injustice. No honest good-will was it that replaced thee; The law of hard necessity replaced thee, Which they had fain opposed, but that they could not.

WALLENSTEIN. Not to their good wishes, that is certain, Nor yet to his affection I'm indebted For this high office; and if I abuse it, I shall therein abuse no confidence.

COUNTESS. Affection! confidence!—they needed thee. Necessity, impetuous remonstrant! Who not with empty names, or shows of proxy, Is served, who'll have the thing and not the symbol, Ever seeks out the greatest and the best, And at the rudder places him, e'en though She had been forced to take him from the rabble— She, this necessity, it was that placed thee In this high office; it was she that gave thee Thy letters-patent of inauguration. For, to the uttermost moment that they can, This race still help themselves at cheapest rate With slavish souls, with puppets! At the approach Of extreme peril, when a hollow image Is found a hollow image and no more, Then falls the power into the mighty hands Of nature, of the spirit-giant born, Who listens only to himself, knows nothing Of stipulations, duties, reverences, And, like the emancipated force of fire, Unmastered scorches, ere it reaches them, Their fine-spun webs, their artificial policy.

WALLENSTEIN. 'Tis true! they saw me always as I am— Always! I did not cheat them in the bargain. I never held it worth my pains to hide The bold all-grasping habit of my soul.

COUNTESS. Nay rather—thou hast ever shown thyself A formidable man, without restraint; Hast exercised the full prerogatives Of thy impetuous nature, which had been Once granted to thee. Therefore, duke, not thou, Who hast still remained consistent with thyself, But they are in the wrong, who, fearing thee, Intrusted such a power in hands they feared. For, by the laws of spirit, in the right Is every individual character That acts in strict consistence with itself: Self-contradiction is the only wrong. Wert thou another being, then, when thou Eight years ago pursuedst thy march with fire, And sword, and desolation, through the circles Of Germany, the universal scourge, Didst mock all ordinances of the empire, The fearful rights of strength alone exertedst, Trampledst to earth each rank, each magistracy, All to extend thy Sultan's domination? Then was the time to break thee in, to curb Thy haughty will, to teach thee ordinance. But no, the emperor felt no touch of conscience; What served him pleased him, and without a murmur He stamped his broad seal on these lawless deeds. What at that time was right, because thou didst it For him, to-day is all at once become Opprobrious, foul, because it is directed Against him. O most flimsy superstition!

WALLENSTEIN (rising). I never saw it in this light before, 'Tis even so. The emperor perpetrated Deeds through my arm, deeds most unorderly. And even this prince's mantle, which I wear, I owe to what were services to him, But most high misdemeanors 'gainst the empire.

COUNTESS. Then betwixt thee and him (confess it, Friedland!) The point can be no more of right and duty, Only of power and the opportunity. That opportunity, lo! it comes yonder Approaching with swift steeds; then with a swing Throw thyself up into the chariot-seat, Seize with firm hand the reins ere thy opponent Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest Of the now empty seat. The moment comes; It is already here, when thou must write The absolute total of thy life's vast sum. The constellations stand victorious o'er thee, The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions, And tell thee, "Now's the time!" The starry courses Hast thou thy life-long measured to no purpose? The quadrant and the circle, were they playthings?

[Pointing to the different objects in the room.

The zodiacs, the rolling orbs of heaven, Hast pictured on these walls and all around thee. In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed These seven presiding lords of destiny— For toys? Is all this preparation nothing? Is there no marrow in this hollow art, That even to thyself it doth avail Nothing, and has no influence over thee In the great moment of decision?

WALLENSTEIN (during this last speech walks up and down with inward struggles, laboring with passion; stops suddenly, stands still, then interrupting the COUNTESS). Send Wrangel to me—I will instantly Despatch three couriers——

ILLO (hurrying out). God in heaven be praised!

WALLENSTEIN. It is his evil genius and mine. Our evil genius! It chastises him Through me, the instrument of his ambition; And I expect no less, than that revenge E'en now is whetting for my breast the poinard. Who sows the serpent's teeth let him not hope To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime Has, in the moment of its perpetration, Its own avenging angel—dark misgiving, An ominous sinking at the inmost heart. He can no longer trust me. Then no longer Can I retreat—so come that which must come. Still destiny preserves its due relations, The heart within us is its absolute Vicegerent. [To TERZKY. Go, conduct you Gustave Wrangel To my state cabinet. Myself will speak to The couriers. And despatch immediately A servant for Octavio Piccolomini.