Scene XI…

Scene XI

The above.--Cuirassiers.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Peace! what's amiss with the boor, may I crave?

FIRST SHARPSHOOTER. He has cheated at play, the cozening knave!

FIRST CUIRASSIER. But say, has he cheated you, man, of aught?

FIRST SHARPHOOTER. Just cleaned me out--and not left me a groat.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. And can you, who've the rank of a Friedland man, So shamefully cast yourself away, As to try your luck with the boor at play? Let him run off, so that run he can.

[The peasant escapes, the others throng together.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. He makes short work--is of resolute mood-- And that with such fellows as these is good. Who is he? not of Bohemia, that's clear.

SUTLER-WOMAN. He's a Walloon--and respect, I trow, Is due to the Pappenheim cuirassier!

FIRST DRAGOON (joining). Young Piccolomini leads them now, Whom they chose as colonel, of their own free might, When Pappenheim fell in Luetzen's fight.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Durst they, indeed, presume so far?

FIRST DRAGOON. This regiment is something above the rest. It has ever been foremost through the war, And may manage its laws, as it pleases best; Besides, 'tis by Friedland himself caressed.

FIRST CUIRASSIER (to the Second.) Is't so in truth, man? Who averred it?

SECOND CUIRASSIER. From the lips of the colonel himself I heard it.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. The devil! we're not their dogs, I weep!

FIRST YAGER. How now, what's wrong? You're swollen with spleen!

SECOND YAGER. Is it anything, comrades, may us concern?

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 'Tis what none need be wondrous glad to learn.

The Soldiers press round him.

To the Netherlands they would lend us now-- Cuirassiers, Yagers, and Shooters away, Eight thousand in all must march, they say.

SUTLER-WOMAN. What! What! again the old wandering way-- I got back from Flanders but yesterday!

SECOND CUIRASSIER (to the Dragoons). You of Butler's corps must tramp with the rest.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. And we, the Walloons, must doubtless be gone.

SUTLER-WOMAN. Why, of all our squadrons these are the best.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. To march where that Milanese fellow leads on.

FIRST YAGER. The infant? that's queer enough in its way.

SECOND YAGER. The priest--then, egad! there's the devil to pay.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Shall we then leave the Friedlander's train, Who so nobly his soldiers doth entertain-- And drag to the field with this fellow from Spain! A niggard whom we in our souls disdain! That'll never go down--I'm off, I swear.

TRUMPETER. Why, what the devil should we do there? We sold our blood to the emperor--ne'er For this Spanish red hat a drop we'll spare!

SECOND YAGER. On the Friedlander's word and credit alone We ranged ourselves in the trooper line, And, but for our love to Wallenstein, Ferdinand ne'er had our service known.

FIRST DRAGOON. Was it not Friedland that formed our force? His fortune shall still be the star of our course.

SERGEANT. Silence, good comrades, to me give ear-- Talking does little to help us here. Much farther in this I can see than you all, And a trap has been laid in which we're to fall;

FIRST YAGER. List to the order-book! hush--be still!

SERGEANT. But first, Cousin Gustel, I pray thee fill A glass of Melneck, as my stomach's but weak When I've tossed it off, my mind I'll speak.

SUTLER-WOMAN. Take it, good sergeant. I quake for fear-- Think you that mischief is hidden here?

SERGEANT. Look ye, my friends, 'tis fit and clear That each should consider what's most near. But as the general says, say I, One should always the whole of a case descry. We call ourselves all the Friedlander's troops; The burgher, on whom we're billeted, stoops Our wants to supply, and cooks our soups. His ox, or his horse, the peasant must chain To our baggage-car, and may grumble in vain. Just let a lance-corp'ral, with seven good men, Tow'rd a village from far but come within ken, You're sure he'll be prince of the place, and may Cut what capers he will, with unquestioned sway. Why, zounds! lads, they heartily hate us all-- And would rather the devil should give them a call, Than our yellow collars. And why don't they fall On us fairly at once and get rid of our lumber? They're more than our match in point of number, And carry the cudgel as we do the sword. Why can we laugh them to scorn? By my word Because we make up here a terrible horde.

FIRST YAGER. Ay, ay, in the mass lies the spell of our might, And the Friedlander judged the matter aright, When, some eight or nine years ago, he brought The emperor's army together. They thought Twelve thousand enough for the general. In vain, Said he, such a force I can never maintain. Sixty thousand I'll bring ye into the plain, And they, I'll be sworn, won't of hunger die, And thus were we Wallenstein's men, say I.

SERGEANT. For example, cut one of my fingers off, This little one here from my right hand doff. Is the taking my finger then all you've done? No, no, to the devil my hand is gone! 'Tis a stump--no more--and use has none. The eight thousand horse they wish to disband May be but a finger of our army's hand. But when they're once gone may we understand We are but one-fifth the less? Oh, no-- By the Lord, the whole to the devil will go! All terror, respect, and awe will be over, And the peasant will swell his crest once more; And the Board of Vienna will order us where Our troops must be quartered and how we must fare, As of old in the days of their beggarly care. Yes, and how long it will be who can say Ere the general himself they may take away? For they don't much like him at court I learn? And then it's all up with the whole concern! For who, to our pay, will be left to aid us? And see that they keep the promise they made us? Who has the energy--who the mind-- The flashing thought--and the fearless hand-- Together to bring, and thus fastly bind The fragments that form our close-knit band. For example, dragoon--just answer us now, From which of the countries of earth art thou?

DRAGOON. From distant Erin came I here.

SERGEANT (to the two Cuirassiers). You're a Walloon, my friend, that's clear, And you, an Italian, as all may hear.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Who I may be, faith! I never could say; In my infant years they stole me away.

SERGEANT. And you, from what far land may you be?

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. I come from Buchau--on the Feder Sea.

SERGEANT. Neighbor, and you?

SECOND ARQUEBUSIER. I am a Swiss.

SERGEANT (to the second Yager). And Yager, let's hear where your country is?

SECOND YAGER. Up above Wismar my fathers dwell.

SERGEANT (pointing to the Trumpeter). And he's from Eger--and I as well: And now, my comrades, I ask you whether, Would any one think, when looking at us, That we, from the North and South, had thus Been hitherward drifted and blown together? Do we not seem as hewn from one mass? Stand we not close against the foe As though we were glued or moulded so? Like mill-work don't we move, d'ye think! 'Mong ourselves in the nick, at a word or wink. Who has thus cast us here all as one, Now to be severed again by none? Who? why, no other than Wallenstein!

FIRST YAGER. In my life it ne'er was a thought of mine Whether we suited each other or not, I let myself go with the rest of the lot.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. I quite agree in the sergeant's opinion-- They'd fain have an end of our camp dominion, And trample the soldier down, that they May govern alone in their own good way. 'Tis a conspiration--a plot, I say!

SUTLER-WOMAN. A conspiration--God help the day! Then my customers won't have cash to pay.

SERGEANT. Why, faith, we shall all be bankrupts made; The captains and generals, most of them, paid The costs of the regiments with private cash, And, wishing, 'bove all, to cut a dash, Went a little beyond their means--but thought, No doubt, that they thus had a bargain bought. Now they'll be cheated, sirs, one and all, Should our chief, our head, the general fall.

SUTLER-WOMAN. Oh, Heaven! this curse I never can brook Why, half of the army stand in my book. Two hundred dollars I've trusted madly That Count Isolani who pays so badly.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Well, comrades, let's fix on what's to be done-- Of the ways to save us, I see but one; If we hold together we need not fear; So let us stand out as one man here; And then they may order and send as they will, Fast planted we'll stick in Bohemia still. We'll never give in--no, nor march an inch, We stand on our honor, and must not flinch.

SECOND YAGER. We're not to be driven the country about, Let 'em come here, and they'll find it out.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Good sirs, 'twere well to bethink ye still, That such is the emperor's sovereign will.

TRUMPETER. Oh, as to the emperor, we needn't be nice.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Let me not hear you say so twice.

TRUMPETER. Why, 'tis even so--as I just have said.

FIRST YAGER. True, man--I've always heard 'em say, 'Tis Friedland, alone, you've here to obey.

SERGEANT. By our bargain with him it should be so, Absolute power is his, you must know, We've war, or peace, but as he may please, Or gold or goods he has power to seize, And hanging or pardon his will decrees. Captains and colonels he makes--and he, In short, by the imperial seal is free, To hold all the marks of sovereignty.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. The duke is high and of mighty will, But yet must remain, for good or for ill, Like us all, but the emperor's servant still.

SERGEANT. Not like us all--I there disagree-- Friedland is quite independent and free, The Bavarian is no more a prince than he For, was I not by myself to see, When on duty at Brandeis, how the emperor said, He wished him to cover his princely head.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. That was because of the Mecklenburgh land, Which he held in pawn from the emperor's hand.

FIRST YAGER (to the Sergeant). In the emperor's presence, man! say you so? That, beyond doubt, was a wonderful go!

SERGEANT (feels in his pocket). If you question my word in what I have told, I can give you something to grasp and hold. [Showing a coin. Whose image and stamp d'ye here behold?

SUTLER-WOMAN. Oh! that is a Wallenstein's, sure!

SERGEANT-MAJOR. Well, there, you have it--what doubt can rest Is he not prince, just as good as the best? Coins he not money like Ferdinand? Hath he not his own subjects and land? Is he not called your highness, I pray? And why should he not have his soldiers in?

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. That no one has ever meant to gainsay; But we're still at the emperor's beck and call, For his majesty 'tis who pays us all.

TRUMPETER. In your teeth I deny it--and will again-- His majesty 'tis who pays us not, For this forty weeks, say, what have we got But a promise to pay, believed in vain?

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. What then! 'tis kept in safe hands, I suppose.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Peace, good sirs, will you come to blows? Have you a quarrel and squabble to know If the emperor be our master or no? 'Tis because of our rank, as his soldiers brave, That we scorn the lot of the herded slave; And will not be driven from place to place, As priest or puppies our path may trace. And, tell me, is't not the sovereign's gain, If the soldiers their dignity will maintain? Who but his soldiers give him the state Of a mighty, wide-ruling potentate? Make and preserve for him, far and near, The voice which Christendom quakes to hear? Well enough they may his yoke-chain bear, Who feast on his favors, and daily share, In golden chambers, his sumptuous fare. We--we of his splendors have no part, Naught but hard wearying toil and care, And the pride that lives in a soldier's heart.

SECOND YAGER. All great tyrants and kings have shown Their wit, as I take it, in what they've done; They've trampled all others with stern command, But the soldier they've led with a gentle hand.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. The soldier his worth must understand; Whoe'er doesn't nobly drive the trade, 'Twere best from the business far he'd stayed. If I cheerily set my life on a throw, Something still better than life I'll know; Or I'll stand to be slain for the paltry pelf, As the Croat still does--and scorn myself.

BOTH PAGERS. Yes--honor is dearer than life itself.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. The sword is no plough, nor delving tool, He, who would till with it, is but a fool. For us, neither grass nor grain doth grow, Houseless the soldier is doomed to go, A changeful wanderer over the earth, Ne'er knowing the warmth of a home-lit hearth. The city glances--he halts--not there-- Nor in village meadows, so green and fair; The vintage and harvest wreath are twined He sees, but must leave them far behind. Then, tell me, what hath the soldier left, If he's once of his self-esteem bereft? Something he must have his own to call, Or on slaughter and burnings at once he'll fall.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. God knows, 'tis a wretched life to live!

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Yet one, which I, for no other would give, Look ye--far round in the world I've been, And all of its different service seen. The Venetian Republic--the Kings of Spain And Naples I've served, and served in vain. Fortune still frowned--and merchant and knight, Craftsmen and Jesuit, have met my sight; Yet, of all their jackets, not one have I known To please me like this steel coat of my own.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Well--that now is what I can scarcely say.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. In the world, a man who would make his way, Must plague and bestir himself night and day. To honor and place if he choose the road, He must bend his back to the golden load. And if home-delights should his fancy please, With children and grandchildren round his knees, Let him follow an honest trade in peace. I've no taste for this kind of life--not I! Free will I live, and as freely die. No man's spoiler nor heir will I be-- But, throned on my nag, I will smile to see The coil of the crowd that is under me.

FIRST YAGER. Bravo!--that's as I've always done.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. In truth, sirs, it may be far better fun To trample thus over your neighbor's crown.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Comrade, the times are bad of late-- The sword and the scales live separate. But do not then blame that I've preferred, Of the two, to lean, as I have, to the sword. For mercy in war I will yield to none, Though I never will stoop to be drummed upon.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Who but the soldier the blame should bear That the laboring poor so hardly fare? The war with its plagues, which all have blasted Now sixteen years in the land hath lasted.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Why, brother, the blessed God above Can't have from us all an equal love. One prays for the sun, at which t'other will fret One is for dry weather-t'other for wet. What you, now, regard as with misery rife, Is to me the unclouded sun of life. If 'tis at the cost of the burgher and boor, I really am sorry that they must endure; But how can I help it? Here, you must know, 'Tis just like a cavalry charge 'gainst the foe: The steeds loud snorting, and on they go! Whoever may lie in the mid-career-- Be it my brother or son so dear, Should his dying groan my heart divide, Yet over his body I needs must ride, Nor pitying stop to drag him aside.

FIRST YAGER. True--who ever asks how another may bide?

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Thus, my lads, 'tis my counsel, while On the soldier Dame Fortune deigns to smile, That we with both hands her bounty clasp, For it may not be much longer left to our grasp. Peace will be coming some over-night, And then there's an end of our martial might. The soldier unhorsed, and fresh mounted to boor, Ere you can think it 'twill be as before. As yet we're together firm bound in the land, The hilt is yet fast in the soldier's hand. But let 'em divide us, and soon we shall find, Short commons is all that remains behind.

FIRST YAGER. No, no, by the Lord! That won't do for me. Come, come, lads, let's all now, as one, agree.

SECOND YAGER. Yes, let us resolve on what 'tis to be.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (To the Sutler-woman, drawing out his leather purse). Hostess, tell us how high you've scored.

SUTLER-WOMAN. Oh, 'tis unworthy a single word.

[They settle.

TRUMPETER. You do well, sirs, to take a further walk, Your company only disturbs our talk.

[Exeunt Arquebusiers.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Plague take the fellows--they're brave, I know.

FIRST YAGER. They haven't a soul 'bove a soapboiler's, though.

SECOND YAGER. We're now alone, so teach us who can How best we may meet and mar their plan.

TRUMPETER. How? Why, let's tell them we will not go!

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Despising all discipline! No, my lads, no, Rather his corps let each of us seek, And quietly then with his comrades speak, That every soldier may clearly know, It were not for his good so far to go; For my Walloons to answer I'm free, Every man of 'em thinks and acts with me.

SERGEANT. The Terzky regiments, both horse and foot, Will thus resolve, and will keep them to't.

SECOND CUIRASSIER (joining the first). The Walloons and the Lombards one intent.

FIRST YAGER. Freedom is Yagers' own element.

SECOND YAGER. Freedom must ever with might entwine-- I live and will die by Wallenstein.

FIRST SHARPSHOOTER. The Lorrainers go on with the strongest tide, Where spirits are light and courage tried.

DRAGOON. An Irishman follows his fortune's star.

SECOND SHARPSHOOTER. The Tyrolese for their sovereign war.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Then, comrades, let each of our corps agree A pro memoria to sign--that we, In spite of all force or fraud, will be To the fortunes of Friedland firmly bound, For in him is the soldier's father found. This we will humbly present, when done, To Piccolomini--I mean the son-- Who understands these kind of affairs, And the Friedlander's highest favor shares; Besides, with the emperor's self, they say He holds a capital card to play.

SECOND YAGER. Well, then, in this, let us all agree, That the colonel shall our spokesman be!

ALL (going). Good! the colonel shall our spokesman be.

SERGEANT. Hold, sirs--just toss off a glass with me To the health of Piccolomini.

SUTLER-WOMAN (brings a flask). This shall not go to the list of scores, I gladly give it--success be yours!

CUIRASSIER. The soldier shall sway!

BOTH YAGERS. The peasant shall pay

DRAGOONS and SHARPSHOOTERS. The army shall flourishing stand!

TRUMPETER and SERGEANT. And the Friedlander keep the command!

SECOND CUIRASSIER (sings).

Arouse ye, my comrades, to horse! to horse! To the field and to freedom we guide! For there a man feels the pride of his force And there is the heart of him tried. No help to him there by another is shown, He stands for himself and himself alone.

[The soldiers from the background have come forward during the singing of this verse and form the chorus.

CHORUS.

No help to him by another is shown, He stands for himself and himself alone.

DRAGOON.

Now freedom hath fled from the world, we find But lords and their bondsmen vile And nothing holds sway in the breast of mankind Save falsehood and cowardly guile. Who looks in death's face with a fearless brow, The soldier, alone, is the freeman now.

CHORUS.

Who looks in death's face with a fearless brow, The soldier, alone, is the freeman now.

FIRST YAGER.

With the troubles of life he ne'er bothers his pate, And feels neither fear nor sorrow; But boldly rides onward to meet with his fate-- He may meet it to-day, or to-morrow! And, if to-morrow 'twill come, then, I say, Drain we the cup of life's joy to-day!

CHORUS.

And, if to-morrow 'twill come, then, I say, Drain we the cup of life's joy to-day!

[The glasses are here refilled, and all drink.

SERGEANT.

'Tis from heaven his jovial lot has birth; Nor needs he to strive or toil. The peasant may grope in the bowels of earth, And for treasure may greedily moil He digs and he delves through life for the pelf, And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself.

CHORUS.

He digs and he delves through life for the pelf, And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself.

FIRST YAGER.

The rider and lightning steed--a pair Of terrible guests, I ween! From the bridal-hall, as the torches glare, Unbidden they join the scene; Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove; By storm he carries the prize of love!

CHORUS.

Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove; By storm he carries the prize of love!

SECOND CUIRASSIER.

Why mourns the wench with so sorrowful face? Away, girl, the soldier must go! No spot on the earth is his resting-place; And your true love he never can know. Still onward driven by fate's rude wind, He nowhere may leave his peace behind.

CHORUS.

Still onward driven by fate's rude wind, He nowhere may leave his peace behind.

FIRST YAGER. He takes the two next to him by the hand--the others do the same--and form a large semi-circle.

Then rouse ye, my comrades--to horse! to horse! In battle the breast doth swell! Youth boils--the life-cup foams in its force-- Up! ere time can dew dispel! And deep be the stake, as the prize is high-- Who life would win, he must dare to die!

CHORUS.

And deep be the stake, as the prize is high-- Who life would win, he must dare to die!

[The curtain falls before the chorus has finished.

THE PICCOLOMINI,

Translated by S. T. Coleridge.

"Upon the whole there can be no doubt that this trilogy forms, in its original tongue, one of the most splendid specimens of tragic art the world has witnessed; and none at all, that the execution of the version from which we have quoted so largely, places Mr. Coleridge in the very first rank of poetical translators. He is, perhaps, the solitary example of a man of very great original genius submitting to all the labors, and reaping all the honors of this species of literary exertion."--Blackwood, 1823.

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Preface

The two dramas,--PICCOLOMINI, or the first part of WALLENSTEIN, and the DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN, are introduced in the original manuscript by a prelude in one act, entitled WALLENSTEIN'S CAMP. This is written in rhyme, and in nine-syllable verse, in the same lilting metre (if that expression may be permitted), with the second Eclogue of Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar.

This prelude possesses a sort of broad humor, and is not deficient in character: but to have translated it into prose, or into any other metre than that of the original, would have given a false idea both of its style and purport; to have translated it into the same metre would have been incompatible with a faithful adherence to the sense of the German from the comparative poverty of our language in rhymes; and it would have been unadvisable, from the incongruity of those lax verses with the present taste of the English public. Schiller's intention seems to have been merely to have prepared his reader for the tragedies by a lively picture of laxity of discipline and the mutinous dispositions of Wallenstein's soldiery. It is not necessary as a preliminary explanation. For these reasons it has been thought expedient not to translate it.

The admirers of Schiller, who have abstracted their idea of that author from the Robbers, and the Cabal and Love, plays in which the main interest is produced by the excitement of curiosity, and in which the curiosity is excited by terrible and extraordinary incident, will not have perused without some portion of disappointment the dramas, which it has been my employment to translate. They should, however, reflect that these are historical dramas taken from a popular German history; that we must, therefore, judge of them in some measure with the feelings of Germans; or, by analogy, with the interest excited in us by similar dramas in our own language. Few, I trust, would be rash or ignorant enough to compare Schiller with Shakspeare; yet, merely as illustration, I would say that we should proceed to the perusal of Wallenstein, not from Lear or Othello, but from Richard II., or the three parts of Henry VI. We scarcely expect rapidity in an historical drama; and many prolix speeches are pardoned from characters whose names and actions have formed the most amusing tales of our early life. On the other hand, there exist in these plays more individual beauties, more passages whose excellence will bear reflection than in the former productions of Schiller. The description of the Astrological Tower, and the reflections of the Young Lover, which follow it, form in the original a fine poem; and my translation must have been wretched indeed if it can have wholly overclouded the beauties of the scene in the first act of the first play between Questenberg, Max, and Octavio Piccolomini. If we except the scene of the setting sun in the Robbers, I know of no part in Schiller's plays which equals the first scene of the fifth act of the concluding plays. [In this edition, scene iii., act v.] It would be unbecoming in me to be more diffuse on this subject. A translator stands connected with the original author by a certain law of subordination which makes it more decorous to point out excellences than defects; indeed, he is not likely to be a fair judge of either. The pleasure or disgust from his own labor will mingle with the feelings that arise from an afterview of the original. Even in the first perusal of a work in any foreign language which we understand, we are apt to attribute to it more excellence than it really possesses from our own pleasurable sense of difficulty overcome without effort. Translation of poetry into poetry is difficult, because the translator must give a brilliancy to his language without that warmth of original conception from which such brilliancy would follow of its own accord. But the translator of a living author is incumbered with additional inconveniences. If he render his original faithfully as to the sense of each passage, he must necessarily destroy a considerable portion of the spirit; if he endeavor to give a work executed according to laws of compensation he subjects himself to imputations of vanity or misrepresentation. I have thought it my duty to remain bound by the sense of my original with as few exceptions as the nature of the languages rendered possible. S. T. C.

THE PICCOLOMINI.

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Dramatis Personae

WALLENSTEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the Imperial Forces in the Thirty Years' War. 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. TIEFENBACH, | DON MARADAS, | Generals under Wallenstein. GOETZ, | KOLATTO, | NEUMANN, Captain of Cavalry, Aide-de-Camp to Terzky. VON QUESTENBERG, the War Commissioner, Imperial Envoy. BAPTISTA SENI, an Astrologer. DUCHESS OF FRIEDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein. THEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland. THE COUNTESS TERZRY, Sister of the Duchess. A CORNET. COLONELS and GENERALS (several). PAGES and ATTENDANTS belonging to Wallenstein. ATTENDANTS and HOBOISTS belonging to Terzky. MASTER OF THE CELLAR to Count Terzky. VALET DE CHAMBRE of Count Piccolomini.

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Act I, Scene I

An old Gothic Chamber in the Council-House at Pilsen, decorated with Colors and other War Insignia.

ILLO, with BUTLER and ISOLANI.

ILLO. Ye have come too late-but ye are come! The distance, Count Isolani, excuses your delay.

ISOLANI. Add this too, that we come not empty-handed. At Donauwerth [1] it was reported to us, A Swedish caravan was on its way, Transporting a rich cargo of provision, Almost six hundreds wagons. This my Croats Plunged down upon and seized, this weighty prize!-- We bring it hither----

ILLO. Just in time to banquet The illustrious company assembled here.

BUTLER. 'Tis all alive! a stirring scene here!

ISOLANI. Ay! The very churches are full of soldiers. [Casts his eye round. And in the council-house, too, I observe, You're settled quite at home! Well, well! we soldiers Must shift and suit us in what way we can.

ILLO. We have the colonels here of thirty regiments. You'll find Count Terzky here, and Tiefenbach, Kolatto, Goetz, Maradas, Hinnersam, The Piccolomini, both son and father-- You'll meet with many an unexpected greeting From many an old friend and acquaintance. Only Gallas is wanting still, and Altringer.

BUTLER. Expect not Gallas.

ILLO (hesitating). How so? Do you know----

ISOLANI (interrupting him). Max. Piccolomini here? O bring me to him. I see him yet ('tis now ten years ago, We were engaged with Mansfeldt hard by Dessau), I see the youth, in my mind's eye I see him, Leap his black war-horse from the bridge adown, And t'ward his father, then in extreme peril, Beat up against the strong tide of the Elbe. The down was scarce upon his chin! I hear He has made good the promise of his youth, And the full hero now is finished in him.

ILLO. You'll see him yet ere evening. He conducts The Duchess Friedland hither, and the princess [2] From Caernthen [3]. We expect them here at noon.

BUTLER. Both wife and daughter does the duke call hither? He crowds in visitants from all sides.

ISOLANI. Hm! So much the better! I had framed my mind To hear of naught but warlike circumstance, Of marches and attacks, and batteries; And lo! the duke provides, and something too Of gentler sort and lovely, should be present To feast our eyes.

ILLO (who has been standing in the attitude of meditation, to BUTLER, whom he leads a little on one side). And how came you to know That the Count Gallas joins us not?

BUTLER. Because He importuned me to remain behind.

ILLO (with warmth). And you? You hold out firmly! [Grasping his hand with affection. Noble Butler!

BUTLER. After the obligation which the duke Had laid so newly on me----

ILLO. I had forgotten A pleasant duty--major-general, I wish you joy!

ISOLANI. What, you mean, of this regiment? I hear, too, that to make the gift still sweeter, The duke has given him the very same In which he first saw service, and since then Worked himself step by step, through each preferment, From the ranks upwards. And verily, it gives A precedent of hope, a spur of action To the whole corps, if once in their remembrance An old deserving soldier makes his way.

BUTLER. I am perplexed and doubtful whether or no I dare accept this your congratulation. The emperor has not yet confirmed the appointment.

ISOLANI. Seize it, friend, seize it! The hand which in that post Placed you is strong enough to keep you there, Spite of the emperor and his ministers!

ILLO. Ay, if we would but so consider it!-- If we would all of us consider it so! The emperor gives us nothing; from the duke Comes all--whate'er we hope, whate'er we have.

ISOLANI (to ILLO). My noble brother! did I tell you how The duke will satisfy my creditors? Will be himself my bankers for the future, Make me once more a creditable man! And this is now the third time, think of that! This kingly-minded man has rescued me From absolute ruin and restored my honor.

ILLO. Oh that his power but kept pace with his wishes! Why, friend! he'd give the whole world to his soldiers. But at Vienna, brother!--here's the grievance,-- What politic schemes do they not lay to shorten His arm, and where they can to clip his pinions. Then these new dainty requisitions! these Which this same Questenberg brings hither!

BUTLER. Ay! Those requisitions of the emperor-- I too have heard about them; but I hope The duke will not draw back a single inch!

ILLO. Not from his right most surely, unless first From office!

BUTLER (shocked and confused). Know you aught then? You alarm me.

ISOLANI (at the same time with BUTLER, and in a hurrying voice). We should be ruined, every one of us!

ILLO. Yonder I see our worthy friend [spoken with a sneer] approaching With the Lieutenant-General Piccolomini.

BUTLER (shaking his head significantly). I fear we shall not go hence as we came.

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Act I, Scene II

Enter OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI and QUESTENBERG.

OCTAVIO (still in the distance). Ay! ah! more still! Still more new visitors! Acknowledge, friend! that never was a camp, Which held at once so many heads of heroes.

QUESTENBERG. Let none approach a camp of Friedland's troops Who dares to think unworthily of war; E'en I myself had nigh forgot its evils When I surveyed that lofty soul of order, By which, while it destroys the world--itself Maintains the greatness which itself created.

OCTAVIO (approaching nearer). Welcome, Count Isolani!

ISOLANI. My noble brother! Even now am I arrived; it has been else my duty----

OCTAVIO. And Colonel Butler--trust me, I rejoice Thus to renew acquaintance with a man Whose worth and services I know and honor. See, see, my friend! There might we place at once before our eyes The sum of war's whole trade and mystery--

[To QUESTENBERG, presenting BUTLER and ISOLANI at the same time to him.

These two the total sum--strength and despatch.

QUESTENBERG (to OCTAVIO). And lo! betwixt them both, experienced prudence!

OCTAVIO (presenting QUESTENBERG to BUTLER and ISOLANI). The Chamberlain and War-Commissioner Questenberg. The bearer of the emperor's behests,-- The long-tried friend and patron of all soldiers, We honor in this noble visitor. [Universal silence.

ILLO (moving towards QUESTENBERG). 'Tis not the first time, noble minister, You've shown our camp this honor.

QUESTENBERG. Once before I stood beside these colors.

ILLO. Perchance too you remember where that was; It was at Znaeim [4] in Moravia, where You did present yourself upon the part Of the emperor to supplicate our duke That he would straight assume the chief command.

QUESTENBURG. To supplicate? Nay, bold general! So far extended neither my commission (At least to my own knowledge) nor my zeal.

ILLO. Well, well, then--to compel him, if you choose, I can remember me right well, Count Tilly Had suffered total rout upon the Lech. Bavaria lay all open to the enemy, Whom there was nothing to delay from pressing Onwards into the very heart of Austria. At that time you and Werdenberg appeared Before our general, storming him with prayers, And menacing the emperor's displeasure, Unless he took compassion on this wretchedness.

ISOLANI (steps up to them). Yes, yes, 'tis comprehensible enough, Wherefore with your commission of to-day, You were not all too willing to remember Your former one.

QUESTENBERG.

Why not, Count Isolani? No contradiction sure exists between them. It was the urgent business of that time To snatch Bavaria from her enemy's hand; And my commission of to-day instructs me To free her from her good friends and protectors.

ILLO. A worthy office! After with our blood We have wrested this Bohemia from the Saxon, To be swept out of it is all our thanks, The sole reward of all our hard-won victories.

QUESTENBERG. Unless that wretched land be doomed to suffer Only a change of evils, it must be Freed from the scourge alike of friend or foe.

ILLO. What? 'Twas a favorable year; the boors Can answer fresh demands already.

QUESTENBERG. Nay, If you discourse of herds and meadow-grounds----

ISOLANI. The war maintains the war. Are the boors ruined The emperor gains so many more new soldiers.

QUESTENBERG. And is the poorer by even so many subjects.

ISOLANI. Poh! we are all his subjects.

QUESTENBERG. Yet with a difference, general! The one fill With profitable industry the purse, The others are well skilled to empty it. The sword has made the emperor poor; the plough Must reinvigorate his resources.

ISOLANI. Sure! Times are not yet so bad. Methinks I see [Examining with his eye the dress and ornaments of QUESTENBERG. Good store of gold that still remains uncoined.

QUESTENBERG. Thank Heaven! that means have been found out to hide Some little from the fingers of the Croats.

ILLO. There! The Stawata and the Martinitz, On whom the emperor heaps his gifts and graces, To the heart-burning of all good Bohemians-- Those minions of court favor, those court harpies, Who fatten on the wrecks of citizens Driven from their house and home--who reap no harvests Save in the general calamity-- Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mock The desolation of their country--these, Let these, and such as these, support the war, The fatal war, which they alone enkindled!

BUTLER. And those state-parasites, who have their feet So constantly beneath the emperor's table, Who cannot let a benefice fall, but they Snap at it with dogs' hunger--they, forsooth, Would pare the soldiers bread and cross his reckoning!

ISOLANI. My life long will it anger me to think, How when I went to court seven years ago, To see about new horses for our regiment, How from one antechamber to another They dragged me on and left me by the hour To kick my heels among a crowd of simpering Feast-fattened slaves, as if I had come thither A mendicant suitor for the crumbs of favor That fell beneath their tables. And, at last, Whom should they send me but a Capuchin! Straight I began to muster up my sins For absolution--but no such luck for me! This was the man, this Capuchin, with whom I was to treat concerning the army horses! And I was forced at last to quit the field, The business unaccomplished. Afterwards The duke procured me in three days what I Could not obtain in thirty at Vienna.

QUESTENBERG. Yes, yes! your travelling bills soon found their way to us! Too well I know we have still accounts to settle.

ILLO. War is violent trade; one cannot always Finish one's work by soft means; every trifle Must not be blackened into sacrilege. If we should wait till you, in solemn council, With due deliberation had selected The smallest out of four-and-twenty evils, I' faith we should wait long-- "Dash! and through with it!" That's the better watchword. Then after come what may come. 'Tis man's nature To make the best of a bad thing once past. A bitter and perplexed "what shall I do?" Is worse to man than worst necessity.

QUESTENBERG. Ay, doubtless, it is true; the duke does spare us The troublesome task of choosing.

BUTLER. Yes, the duke Cares with a father's feelings for his troops; But how the emperor feels for us, we see.

QUESTENBERG. His cares and feelings all ranks share alike, Nor will he offer one up to another.

ISOLANI. And therefore thrusts he us into the deserts As beasts of prey, that so he may preserve His dear sheep fattening in his fields at home.

QUESTENBERG (with a sneer). Count! this comparison you make, not I.

ILLO. Why, were we all the court supposes us 'Twere dangerous, sure, to give us liberty.

QUESTENBERG (gravely). You have taken liberty--it was not given you, And therefore it becomes an urgent duty To rein it in with the curbs.

ILLO. Expect to find a restive steed in us.

QUESTENBERG. A better rider may be found to rule it.

ILLO. He only brooks the rider who has tamed him.

QUESTENBERG. Ay, tame him once, and then a child may lead him.

ILLO. The child, we know, is found for him already.

QUESTENBERG. Be duty, sir, your study, not a name.

BUTLER (who has stood aside with PICCOLOMINI, but with visible interest in the conversation, advances). Sir president, the emperor has in Germany A splendid host assembled; in this kingdom Full twenty thousand soldiers are cantoned, With sixteen thousand in Silesia; Ten regiments are posted on the Weser, The Rhine, and Maine; in Swabia there are six, And in Bavaria twelve, to face the Swedes; Without including in the account the garrisons Who on the frontiers hold the fortresses. This vast and mighty host is all obedient To Friedland's captains; and its brave commanders, Bred in one school, and nurtured with one milk, Are all excited by one heart and soul; They are as strangers on the soil they tread, The service is their only house and home. No zeal inspires then for their country's cause, For thousands like myself were born abroad; Nor care they for the emperor, for one half Deserting other service fled to ours, Indifferent what their banner, whether 'twere, The Double Eagle, Lily, or the Lion. Yet one sole man can rein this fiery host By equal rule, by equal love and fear; Blending the many-nationed whole in one; And like the lightning's fires securely led Down the conducting rod, e'en thus his power Rules all the mass, from guarded post to post, From where the sentry hears the Baltic roar, Or views the fertile vales of the Adige, E'en to the body-guard, who holds his watch Within the precincts of the imperial palace!

QUESTENBERG. What's the short meaning of this long harangue?

BUTLER. That the respect, the love, the confidence, Which makes us willing subjects of Duke Friedland, Are not to be transferred to the first comer That Austria's court may please to send to us. We have not yet so readily forgotten How the command came into Friedland's hands. Was it, forsooth, the emperor's majesty That gave the army ready to his hand, And only sought a leader for it? No. The army then had no existence. He, Friedland, it was who called it into being, And gave it to his sovereign--but receiving No army at his hand; nor did the emperor Give Wallenstein to us as general. No, It was from Wallenstein we first received The emperor as our master and our sovereign; And he, he only, binds us to our banners!

OCTAVIO (interposing and addressing QUESTENBERG). My noble friend, This is no more than a remembrancing That you are now in camp, and among warriors; The soldier's boldness constitutes his freedom. Could he act daringly, unless he dared Talk even so? One runs into the other. The boldness of this worthy officer, [Pointing to BUTLER. Which now is but mistaken in its mark, Preserved, when naught but boldness could preserve it, To the emperor, his capital city, Prague, In a most formidable mutiny Of the whole garrison. [Military music at a distance. Hah! here they come!

ILLO. The sentries are saluting them: this signal Announces the arrival of the duchess.

OCTAVIO (to QUESTENBERG). Then my son Max., too, has returned. 'Twas he Fetched and attended them from Caernthen hither.

ISOLANI (to ILLO). Shall we not go in company to greet them?

ILLO. Well, let us go--Ho! Colonel Butler, come. [To OCTAVIO. You'll not forget that yet ere noon we meet The noble envoy at the general's palace.

[Exeunt all but QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO.

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Act I, Scene III

QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO.

QUESTENBERG (with signs of aversion and astonishment). What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio! What sentiments! what fierce, uncurbed defiance! And were this spirit universal----

OCTAVIO. Hm! You're now acquainted with three-fourths of the army.

QUESTENBERG. Where must we seek, then, for a second host To have the custody of this? That Illo Thinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And then This Butler, too--he cannot even conceal The passionate workings of his ill intentions.

OCTAVIO. Quickness of temper--irritated pride; 'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler. I know a spell that will soon dispossess The evil spirit in him.

QUESTENBERG (walking up and down in evident disquiet). Friend, friend! O! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffered Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There We saw it only with a courtier's eyes, Eyes dazzled by the splendor of the throne. We had not seen the war-chief, the commander, The man all-powerful in his camp. Here, here, 'Tis quite another thing. Here is no emperor more--the duke is emperor. Alas, my friend! alas, my noble friend! This walk which you have ta'en me through the camp Strikes my hopes prostrate.

OCTAVIO. Now you see yourself Of what a perilous kind the office is, Which you deliver to me from the court. The least suspicion of the general Costs me my freedom and my life, and would But hasten his most desperate enterprise.

QUESTENBERG. Where was our reason sleeping when we trusted This madman with the sword, and placed such power In such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse, Flatly refuse to obey the imperial orders. Friend, he can do it, and what he can, he will. And then the impunity of his defiance-- Oh! what a proclamation of our weakness!

OCTAVIO. D'ye think, too, he has brought his wife and daughter Without a purpose hither? Here in camp! And at the very point of time in which We're arming for the war? That he has taken These, the last pledges of his loyalty, Away from out the emperor's dominions-- This is no doubtful token of the nearness Of some eruption.

QUESTENBERG. How shall we hold footing Beneath this tempest, which collects itself And threats us from all quarters? The enemy Of the empire on our borders, now already The master of the Danube, and still farther, And farther still, extending every hour! In our interior the alarum-bells Of insurrection--peasantry in arms-- All orders discontented--and the army, Just in the moment of our expectation Of aidance from it--lo! this very army Seduced, run wild, lost to all discipline, Loosened, and rent asunder from the state And from their sovereign, the blind instrument Of the most daring of mankind, a weapon Of fearful power, which at his will he wields.

OCTAVIO. Nay, nay, friend! let us not despair too soon Men's words are even bolder than their deeds; And many a resolute, who now appears Made up to all extremes, will, on a sudden, Find in his breast a heart he wot not of, Let but a single honest man speak out The true name of his crime! Remember, too, We stand not yet so wholly unprotected. Counts Altringer and Gallas have maintained Their little army faithful to its duty, And daily it becomes more numerous. Nor can he take us by surprise; you know I hold him all encompassed by my listeners. What'er he does, is mine, even while 'tis doing-- No step so small, but instantly I hear it; Yea, his own mouth discloses it.

QUESTENBERG. 'Tis quite Incomprehensible, that he detects not The foe so near!

OCTAVIO. Beware, you do not think, That I, by lying arts, and complaisant Hypocrisy, have sulked into his graces, Or with the substance of smooth professions Nourish his all-confiding friendship! No-- Compelled alike by prudence, and that duty Which we all owe our country and our sovereign, To hide my genuine feelings from him, yet Ne'er have I duped him with base counterfeits!

QUESTENBERG. It is the visible ordinance of heaven.

OCTAVIO. I know not what it is that so attracts And links him both to me and to my son. Comrades and friends we always were--long habit, Adventurous deeds performed in company, And all those many and various incidents Which stores a soldier's memory with affections, Had bound us long and early to each other-- Yet I can name the day, when all at once His heart rose on me, and his confidence Shot out into sudden growth. It was the morning Before the memorable fight at Luetzen. Urged by an ugly dream, I sought him out, To press him to accept another charger. At a distance from the tents, beneath a tree, I found him in a sleep. When I had waked him And had related all my bodings to him, Long time he stared upon me, like a man Astounded: thereon fell upon my neck, And manifested to me an emotion That far outstripped the worth of that small service. Since then his confidence has followed me With the same pace that mine has fled from him.

QUESTENBERG. You lead your son into the secret?

OCTAVIO. No!

QUESTENBERG. What! and not warn him either, what bad hands His lot has placed him in?

OCTAVIO. I must perforce Leave him in wardship to his innocence. His young and open soul--dissimulation Is foreign to its habits! Ignorance Alone can keep alive the cheerful air, The unembarrassed sense and light free spirit, That makes the duke secure.

QUESTENBERG (anxiously). My honored friend! most highly do I deem Of Colonel Piccolomini--yet--if-- Reflect a little----

OCTAVIO. I must venture it. Hush! There he comes!

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Act I, Scene IV

MAX. PICCOLOMINI, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, QUESTENBERG.

MAX. Ha! there he is himself. Welcome, my father!

[He embraces his father. As he turns round, he observes QUESTENBERG, and draws back with a cold and reserved air.

You are engaged, I see. I'll not disturb you.

OCTAVIO. How, Max.? Look closer at this visitor. Attention, Max., an old friend merits--reverence Belongs of right to the envoy of your sovereign.

MAX. (drily). Von Questenberg!--welcome--if you bring with you Aught good to our headquarters.

QUESTENBERG (seizing his hand). Nay, draw not Your hand away, Count Piccolimini! Not on my own account alone I seized it, And nothing common will I say therewith. [Taking the hands of both. Octavio--Max. Piccolomini! O savior names, and full of happy omen! Ne'er will her prosperous genius turn from Austria, While two such stars, with blessed influences Beaming protection, shine above her hosts.

MAX. Heh! Noble minister! You miss your part. You come not here to act a panegyric. You're sent, I know, to find fault and to scold us-- I must not be beforehand with my comrades.

OCTAVIO (to MAX.). He comes from court, where people are not quite So well contented with the duke as here.

MAX. What now have they contrived to find out in him? That he alone determines for himself What he himself alone doth understand! Well, therein he does right, and will persist in't Heaven never meant him for that passive thing That can be struck and hammered out to suit Another's taste and fancy. He'll not dance To every tune of every minister. It goes against his nature--he can't do it, He is possessed by a commanding spirit, And his, too, is the station of command. And well for us it is so! There exist Few fit to rule themselves, but few that use Their intellects intelligently. Then Well for the whole, if there be found a man Who makes himself what nature destined him, The pause, the central point, to thousand thousands Stands fixed and stately, like a firm-built column, Where all may press with joy and confidence-- Now such a man is Wallenstein; and if Another better suits the court--no other But such a one as he can serve the army.

QUESTENBERG. The army? Doubtless!

MAX. What delight to observe How he incites and strengthens all around him, Infusing life and vigor. Every power Seems as it were redoubled by his presence He draws forth every latent energy, Showing to each his own peculiar talent, Yet leaving all to be what nature made them, And watching only that they be naught else In the right place and time; and he has skill To mould the power's of all to his own end.

QUESTENBERG. But who denies his knowledge of mankind, And skill to use it? Our complaint is this: That in the master he forgets the servant, As if he claimed by birth his present honors.

MAX. And does he not so? Is he not endowed With every gift and power to carry out The high intents of nature, and to win A ruler's station by a ruler's talent?

QUESTENBERG. So then it seems to rest with him alone What is the worth of all mankind beside!

MAX. Uncommon men require no common trust; Give him but scope and he will set the bounds.

QUESTENBERG. The proof is yet to come.

MAX. Thus are ye ever. Ye shrink from every thing of depth, and think Yourselves are only safe while ye're in shallows.

OCTAVIO (to QUESTENBERG). 'Twere best to yield with a good grace, my friend; Of him there you'll make nothing.

MAX. (continuing). In their fear They call a spirit up, and when he comes, Straight their flesh creeps and quivers, and they dread him More than the ills for which they called him up. The uncommon, the sublime, must seem and be Like things of every day. But in the field, Ay, there the Present Being makes itself felt. The personal must command, the actual eye Examine. If to be the chieftain asks All that is great in nature, let it be Likewise his privilege to move and act In all the correspondences of greatness. The oracle within him, that which lives, He must invoke and question--not dead books, Not ordinances, not mould-rotted papers.

OCTAVIO. My son! of those old narrow ordinances Let us not hold too lightly. They are weights Of priceless value, which oppressed mankind, Tied to the volatile will of their oppressors. For always formidable was the League And partnership of free power with free will. The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds, Is yet no devious path. Straight forward goes The lightning's path, and straight the fearful path Of the cannon-ball. Direct it flies, and rapid; Shattering that it may reach, and shattering what it reaches, My son, the road the human being travels, That, on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow The river's course, the valley's playful windings, Curves round the cornfield and the hill of vines, Honoring the holy bounds of property! And thus secure, though late, leads to its end.

QUESTENBERG. Oh, hear your father, noble youth! hear him Who is at once the hero and the man.

OCTAVIO. My son, the nursling of the camp spoke in thee! A war of fifteen years Hath been thy education and thy school. Peace hast thou never witnessed! There exists An higher than the warrior's excellence. In war itself war is no ultimate purpose, The vast and sudden deeds of violence, Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment, These are not they, my son, that generate The calm, the blissful, and the enduring mighty! Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect! Builds his light town of canvas, and at once The whole scene moves and bustles momently. With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrel The motley market fills; the roads, the streams Are crowded with new freights; trade stirs and hurries, But on some morrow morn, all suddenly, The tents drop down, the horde renews its march. Dreary, and solitary as a churchyard; The meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie, And the year's harvest is gone utterly.

MAX. Oh, let the emperor make peace, my father! Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel For the first violet [5] of the leafless spring, Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed.

OCTAVIO. What ails thee? What so moves thee all at once?

MAX. Peace have I ne'er beheld? I have beheld it. From thence am I come hither: oh, that sight, It glimmers still before me, like some landscape Left in the distance,--some delicious landscape! My road conducted me through countries where The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my father-- My venerable father, life has charms Which we have never experienced. We have been But voyaging along its barren coasts, Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates, That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship, House on the wild sea with wild usages, Nor know aught of the mainland, but the bays Where safeliest they may venture a thieves' landing. Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals Of fair and exquisite, oh, nothing, nothing, Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.

OCTAVIO (attentive, with an appearance of uneasiness). And so your journey has revealed this to you?

MAX. 'Twas the first leisure of my life. O tell me, What is the meed and purpose of the toil, The painful toil which robbed me of my youth, Left me a heart unsouled and solitary, A spirit uninformed, unornamented! For the camp's stir, and crowd, and ceaseless larum, The neighing war-horse, the air-shattering trumpet, The unvaried, still returning hour of duty, Word of command, and exercise of arms-- There's nothing here, there's nothing in all this, To satisfy the heart, the gasping heart! Mere bustling nothingness, where the soul is not-- This cannot be the sole felicity, These cannot be man's best and only pleasures!

OCTAVIO. Much hast thou learnt, my son, in this short journey.

MAX. Oh day, thrice lovely! when at length the soldier Returns home into life; when he becomes A fellow-man among his fellow-men. The colors are unfurled, the cavalcade Mashals, and now the buzz is hushed, and hark! Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, home! The caps and helmet are all garlanded With green boughs, the last plundering of the fields. The city gates fly open of themselves, They need no longer the petard to tear them. The ramparts are all filled with men and women, With peaceful men and women, that send onwards. Kisses and welcomings upon the air, Which they make breezy with affectionate gestures. From all the towers rings out the merry peal, The joyous vespers of a bloody day. O happy man, O fortunate! for whom The well-known door, the faithful arms are open, The faithful tender arms with mute embracing.

QUESTENBERG (apparently much affected). O that you should speak Of such a distant, distant time, and not Of the to-morrow, not of this to-day.

MAX. (turning round to him quick and vehement). Where lies the fault but on you in Vienna! I will deal openly with you, Questenberg. Just now, as first I saw you standing here (I'll own it to you freely), indignation Crowded and pressed my inmost soul together. 'Tis ye that hinder peace, ye!--and the warrior, It is the warrior that must force it from you. Ye fret the general's life out, blacken him, Hold him up as a rebel, and heaven knows What else still worse, because he spares the Saxons, And tries to awaken confidence in the enemy; Which yet's the only way to peace: for if War intermit not during war, how then And whence can peace come? Your own plagues fall on you! Even as I love what's virtuous, hate I you. And here I make this vow, here pledge myself, My blood shall spurt out for this Wallenstein, And my heart drain off, drop by drop, ere ye Shall revel and dance jubilee o'er his ruin. [Exit.

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Act I, Scene V

QUESTENBERG, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI.

QUESTENBERG. Alas! alas! and stands it so? [Then in pressing and impatient tones. What friend! and do we let him go away In this delusion--let him go away? Not call him back immediately, not open His eyes, upon the spot?

OCTAVIO (recovering himself out of a deep study). He has now opened mine, And I see more than pleases me.

QUESTENBERG. What is it?

OCTAVIO. Curse on this journey!

QUESTENBERG. But why so? What is it?

OCTAVIO. Come, come along, friend! I must follow up The ominous track immediately. Mine eyes Are opened now, and I must use them. Come!

[Draws QUESTENBERG on with him.

QUESTENBERG. What now? Where go you then?

OCTAVIO. To her herself.

QUESTENBERG. To----

OCTAVIO (interrupting him and correcting himself). To the duke. Come, let us go 'Tis done, 'tis done, I see the net that is thrown over him. Oh! he returns not to me as he went.

QUESTENBERG. Nay, but explain yourself.

OCTAVIO. And that I should not Foresee it, not prevent this journey! Wherefore Did I keep it from him? You were in the right. I should have warned him. Now it is too late.

QUESTENBERG. But what's too late? Bethink yourself, my friend, That you are talking absolute riddles to me.

OCTAVIO (more collected). Come I to the duke's. 'Tis close upon the hour Which he appointed you for audience. Come! A curse, a threefold curse, upon this journey!

[He leads QUESTENBERG off.

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Act II, Scene I

Changes to a spacious chamber in the house of the Duke of Friedland. Servants employed in putting the tables and chairs in order. During this enters SENI, like an old Italian doctor, in black, and clothed somewhat fantastically. He carries a white staff, with which he marks out the quarters of the heavens.

FIRST SERVANT. Come--to it, lads, to it! Make an end of it. I hear the sentry call out, "Stand to your arms!" They will be here in a minute.

SECOND SERVANT. Why were we not told before that the audience would be held here? Nothing prepared--no orders--no instructions.

THIRD SERVANT. Ay, and why was the balcony chamber countermanded, that with the great worked carpet? There one can look about one.

FIRST SERVANT. Nay, that you must ask the mathematician there. He says it is an unlucky chamber.

SECOND SERVANT. Poh! stuff and nonsense! that's what I call a hum. A chamber is a chamber; what much can the place signify in the affair?

SENI (with gravity). My son, there's nothing insignificant, Nothing! But yet in every earthly thing, First and most principal is place and time.

FIRST SERVANT (to the second). Say nothing to him, Nat. The duke himself must let him have his own will.

SENI (counts the chairs, half in a loud, half in a low voice, till he comes to eleven, which he repeats). Eleven! an evil number! Set twelve chairs. Twelve! twelve signs hath the zodiac: five and seven, The holy numbers, include themselves in twelve.

SECOND SERVANT. And what may you have to object against eleven? I should like to know that now.

SENI. Eleven is transgression; eleven oversteps The ten commandments.

SECOND SERVANT. That's good? and why do you call five a holy number?

SENI. Five is the soul of man: for even as man Is mingled up of good and evil, so The five is the first number that's made up Of even and odd.

SECOND SERVANT. The foolish old coxcomb!

FIRST SERVANT. Ay! let him alone though. I like to hear him; there is more in his words than can be seen at first sight.

THIRD SERVANT. Off, they come.

SECOND SERVANT. There! Out at the side-door.

[They hurry off: SENI follows slowly. A page brings the staff of command on a red cushion, and places it on the table, near the duke's chair. They are announced from without, and the wings of the door fly open.

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Act II, Scene II

WALLENSTEIN, DUCHESS.

WALLENSTEIN. You went, then, through Vienna, were presented To the Queen of Hungary?

DUCHESS. Yes; and to the empress, too, And by both majesties were we admitted To kiss the hand.

WALLENSTEIN. And how was it received, That I had sent for wife and daughter hither To the camp, in winter-time?

DUCHESS. I did even that Which you commissioned me to do. I told them You had determined on our daughter's marriage, And wished, ere yet you went into the field, To show the elected husband his betrothed.

WALLENSTEIN. And did they guess the choice which I had made?

DUCHESS. They only hoped and wished it may have fallen Upon no foreign nor yet Lutheran noble.

WALLENSTEIN. And you--what do you wish, Elizabeth?

DUCHESS. Your will, you know, was always mine.

WALLENSTEIN (after a pause). Well, then,-- And in all else, of what kind and complexion Was your reception at the court? [The DUCHESS casts her eyes on the ground, and remains silent. Hide nothing from me. How were you received?

DUCHESS. O! my dear lord, all is not what it was. A canker-worm, my lord, a canker-worm Has stolen into the bud.

WALLENSTEIN. Ay! is it so? What, they were lax? they failed of the old respect?

DUCHESS. Not of respect. No honors were omitted, No outward courtesy; but in the place Of condescending, confidential kindness, Familiar and endearing, there were given me Only these honors and that solemn courtesy. Ah! and the tenderness which was put on, It was the guise of pity, not of favor. No! Albrecht's wife, Duke Albrecht's princely wife, Count Harrach's noble daughter, should not so-- Not wholly so should she have been received.

WALLENSTEIN. Yes, yes; they have taken offence. My latest conduct They railed at it, no doubt.

DUCHESS. O that they had! I have been long accustomed to defend you, To heal and pacify distempered spirits. No; no one railed at you. They wrapped them up, O Heaven! in such oppressive, solemn silence! Here is no every-day misunderstanding, No transient pique, no cloud that passes over; Something most luckless, most unhealable, Has taken place. The Queen of Hungary Used formerly to call me her dear aunt, And ever at departure to embrace me----

WALLENSTEIN. Now she omitted it?

DUCHESS (wiping away her tears after a pause). She did embrace me, But then first when I had already taken My formal leave, and when the door already Had closed upon me, then did she come out In haste, as she had suddenly bethought herself, And pressed me to her bosom, more with anguish Than tenderness.

WALLENSTEIN (seizes her hand soothingly). Nay, now collect yourself. And what of Eggenberg and Lichtenstein, And of our other friends there?

DUCHESS (shaking her head). I saw none.

WALLENSTEIN. The ambassador from Spain, who once was wont To plead so warmly for me?

DUCHESS. Silent, silent!

WALLENSTEIN. These suns then are eclipsed for us. Henceforward Must we roll on, our own fire, our own light.

DUCHESS. And were it--were it, my dear lord, in that Which moved about the court in buzz and whisper, But in the country let itself be heard Aloud--in that which Father Lanormain In sundry hints and----

WALLENSTEIN (eagerly). Lanormain! what said he?

DUCHESS. That you're accused of having daringly O'erstepped the powers intrusted to you, charged With traitorous contempt of the emperor And his supreme behests. The proud Bavarian, He and the Spaniards stand up your accusers-- That there's a storm collecting over you Of far more fearful menace than the former one Which whirled you headlong down at Regensburg. And people talk, said he, of----Ah! [Stifling extreme emotion.

WALLENSTEIN. Proceed!

DUCHESS. I cannot utter it!

WALLENSTEIN. Proceed!

DUCHESS. They talk----

WALLENSTEIN. Well!

DUCHESS. Of a second---- (catches her voice and hesitates.)

WALLENSTEIN. Second----

DUCHESS. Most disgraceful Dismission.

WALLENSTEIN. Talk they? [Strides across the chamber in vehement agitation. Oh! they force, they thrust me With violence, against my own will, onward!

DUCHESS (presses near him in entreaty). Oh! if there yet be time, my husband, if By giving way and by submission, this Can be averted--my dear Lord, give way! Win down your proud heart to it! Tell the heart, It is your sovereign lord, your emperor, Before whom you retreat. Oh! no longer Low trickling malice blacken your good meaning With abhorred venomous glosses. Stand you up Shielded and helmed and weaponed with the truth, And drive before you into uttermost shame These slanderous liars! Few firm friends have we-- You know it! The swift growth of our good fortune It hath but set us up a mark for hatred. What are we, if the sovereign's grace and favor Stand not before us!

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Act II, Scene III

Enter the Countess TERZKY, leading in her hand the Princess THEKLA, richly adorned with brilliants.

COUNTESS, TEKLA, WALLENSTEIN, DUCHESS.

COUNTESS. How sister? What, already upon business? [Observing the countenance of the DUCHESS. And business of no pleasing kind I see, Ere he has gladdened at his child. The first Moment belongs to joy. Here, Friedland! father! This is thy daughter.

[THEKLA approaches with a shy and timid air, and bends herself as about to kiss his hand. He receives her in his arms, and remains standing for some time lost in the feeling of her presence.

WALLENSTEIN. Yes! pure and lovely hath hope risen on me, I take her as the pledge of greater fortune.

DUCHESS. 'Twas but a little child when you departed To raise up that great army for the emperor And after, at the close of the campaign, When you returned home out of Pomerania, Your daughter was already in the convent, Wherein she has remained till now.

WALLENSTEIN. The while We in the field here gave our cares and toils To make her great, and fight her a free way To the loftiest earthly good; lo! mother Nature Within the peaceful, silent convent walls, Has done her part, and out of her free grace Hath she bestowed on the beloved child The god-like; and now leads her thus adorned To meet her splendid fortune, and my hope.

DUCHESS (to THEKLA). Thou wouldst not now have recognized thy father, Wouldst thou, my child? She counted scarce eight years When last she saw your face.

THEKLA. O yes, yes, mother! At the first glance! My father has not altered. The form that stands before me falsifies No feature of the image that hath lived So long within me!

WALLENSTEIN. The voice of my child! [Then after a pause. I was indignant at my destiny, That it denied me a man-child, to be Heir of my name and of my prosperous fortune, And re-illume my soon-extinguished being In a proud line of princes. I wronged my destiny. Here upon this head, So lovely in its maiden bloom, will I Let fall the garland of a life of war, Nor deem it lost, if only I can wreath it, Transmuted to a regal ornament, Around these beauteous brows.

[He clasps her in his arms as PICCOLOMINI enters.

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Act II, Scene IV

Enter MAX. PICCOLOMINI, and some time after COUNT TERZKY, the others remaining as before.

COUNTESS. There comes the Paladin who protected us.

WALLENSTEIN. Max.! Welcome, ever welcome! Always wert thou The morning star of my best joys!

MAX. My general----

WALLENSTEIN. Till now it was the emperor who rewarded thee, I but the instrument. This day thou hast bound The father to thee, Max.! the fortunate father, And this debt Friedland's self must pay.

MAX. My prince! You made no common hurry to transfer it. I come with shame: yea, not without a pang! For scarce have I arrived here, scarce delivered The mother and the daughter to your arms, But there is brought to me from your equerry [6] A splendid richly-plated hunting dress So to remunerate me for my troubles-- Yes, yes, remunerate me,--since a trouble It must be, a mere office, not a favor Which I leaped forward to receive, and which I came with grateful heart to thank you for. No! 'twas not so intended, that my business Should be my highest best good fortune!

[TERZKY enters; and delivers letters to the DUKE, which he breaks open hurriedly.

COUNTESS (to MAX.). Remunerate your trouble! For his joy, He makes you recompense. 'Tis not unfitting For you, Count Piccolomini, to feel So tenderly--my brother it beseems To show himself forever great and princely.

THEKLA. Then I too must have scruples of his love: For his munificent hands did ornament me Ere yet the father's heart had spoken to me.

MAX Yes; 'tis his nature ever to be giving And making happy. [He grasps the hand of the DUCHESS with still increasing warmth. How my heart pours out Its all of thanks to him! O! how I seem To utter all things in the dear name--Friedland. While I shall live, so long will I remain The captive of this name: in it shall bloom My every fortune, every lovely hope. Inextricably as in some magic ring In this name hath my destiny charm-bound me!

COUNTESS (who during this time has been anxiously watching the DUKE, and remarks that he is lost in thought over the letters). My brother wishes us to leave him. Come.

WALLENSTEIN (turns himself round quick, collects himself, and speaks with cheerfulness to the DUCHESS). Once more I bid thee welcome to the camp, Thou art the hostess of this court. You, Max., Will now again administer your old office, While we perform the sovereign's business here.

[MAX. PICCOLOMINI offers the DUCHESS his arm; the COUNTESS accompanies the PRINCESS.

TERZKY (calling after him). Max., we depend on seeing you at the meeting.

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Act II, Scene V

WALLENSTEIN, COUNT TERZKY.

WALLENSTEIN (in deep thought, to himself). She has seen all things as they are--it is so, And squares completely with my other notices, They have determined finally in Vienna, Have given me my successor already; It is the King of Hungary, Ferdinand, The emperor's delicate son! he's now their savior, He's the new star that's rising now! Of us They think themselves already fairly rid, And as we were deceased, the heir already Is entering on possession--Therefore--despatch!

[As he turns round he observes TERZKY, and gives him a letter.

Count Altringer will have himself excused, And Gallas too--I like not this!

TERZKY. And if Thou loiterest longer, all will fall away, One following the other.

WALLENSTEIN. Altringer Is master of the Tyrol passes. I must forthwith Send some one to him, that he let not in The Spaniards on me from the Milanese. --Well, and the old Sesin, that ancient trader In contraband negotiations, he Has shown himself again of late. What brings he From the Count Thur?

TERZKY. The count communicates He has found out the Swedish chancellor At Halberstadt, where the convention's held, Who says, you've tired him out, and that he'll have No further dealings with you.

WALLENSTEIN. And why so?

TERZKY. He says, you are never in earnest in your speeches; That you decoy the Swedes--to make fools of them; Will league yourself with Saxony against them, And at last make yourself a riddance of them With a paltry sum of money.

WALLENSTEIN. So then, doubtless, Yes, doubtless, this same modest Swede expects That I shall yield him some fair German tract For his prey and booty, that ourselves at last On our own soil and native territory May be no longer our own lords and masters! An excellent scheme! No, no! They must be off, Off, off! away! we want no such neighbors.

TERZKY. Nay, yield them up that dot, that speck of land-- It goes not from your portion. If you win The game, what matters it to you who pays it?

WALLENSTEIN. Off with them, off! Thou understand'st not this. Never shall it be said of me, I parcelled My native land away, dismembered Germany, Betrayed it to a foreigner, in order To come with stealthy tread, and filch away My own share of the plunder--Never! never! No foreign power shall strike root in the empire, And least of all these Goths! these hungry wolves! Who send such envious, hot, and greedy glances Toward the rich blessings of our German lands! I'll have their aid to cast and draw my nets, But not a single fish of all the draught Shall they come in for.

TERZKY. You will deal, however, More fairly with the Saxons? they lose patience While you shift round and make so many curves. Say, to what purpose all these masks? Your friends Are plunged in doubts, baffled, and led astray in you. There's Oxenstiern, there's Arnheim--neither knows What he should think of your procrastinations, And in the end I prove the liar; all Passes through me. I've not even your handwriting.

WALLENSTEIN. I never give handwriting; and thou knowest it.

TERZKY. But how can it be known that you are in earnest, If the act follows not upon the word? You must yourself acknowledge, that in all Your intercourses hitherto with the enemy, You might have done with safety all you have done. Had you meant nothing further than to gull him For the emperor's service.

WALLENSTEIN (after a pause, during which he looks narrowly on TERZKY). And from whence dost thou know That I'm not gulling him for the emperor's service? Whence knowest thou that I'm not gulling all of you? Dost thou know me so well? When made I thee The intendant of my secret purposes? I am not conscious that I ever opened My inmost thoughts to thee. The emperor, it is true, Hath dealt with me amiss; and if I would I could repay him with usurious interest For the evil he hath done me. It delights me To know my power; but whether I shall use it, Of that I should have thought that thou couldst speak No wiser than thy fellows.

TERZKY. So hast thou always played thy game with us.

[Enter ILLO.

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Act II, Scene VI

ILLO, WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY.

WALLENSTEIN. How stand affairs without? Are they prepared?

ILLO. You'll find them in the very mood you wish. They know about the emperor's requisition, And are tumultuous.

WALLENSTEIN. How hath Isolani declared himself?

ILLO. He's yours, both soul and body, Since you built up again his faro-bank.

WALLENSTEIN. And which way doth Kolatto bend? Hast thou Made sure of Tiefenbach and Deodati?

ILLO. What Piccolomini does that they do too.

WALLENSTEIN. You mean, then, I may venture somewhat with them?

ILLO. If you are assured of the Piccolomini.

WALLENSTEIN. Not more assured of mine own self.

TERZKY. And yet I would you trusted not so much to Octavio, The fox!

WALLENSTEIN. Thou teachest me to know my man? Sixteen campaigns I have made with that old warrior. Besides, I have his horoscope; We both are born beneath like stars--in short, [With an air of mystery. To this belongs its own peculiar aspect, If therefore thou canst warrant me the rest----

ILLO. There is among them all but this one voice, You must not lay down the command. I hear They mean to send a deputation to you.

WALLENSTEIN. If I'm in aught to bind myself to them They too must bind themselves to me.

ILLO. Of course.

WALLENSTEIN. Their words of honor they must give, their oaths, Give them in writing to me, promising Devotion to my service unconditional.

ILLO. Why not?

TERZKY. Devotion unconditional? The exception of their duties towards Austria They'll always place among the premises. With this reserve----

WALLENSTEIN (shaking his head). All unconditional; No premises, no reserves.

ILLO. A thought has struck me. Does not Count Terzky give us a set banquet This evening?

TERZKY. Yes; and all the generals Have been invited.

ILLO (to WALLENSTEIN). Say, will you here fully Commission me to use my own discretion? I'll gain for you the generals' word of honor, Even as you wish.

WALLENSTEIN. Gain me their signatures! How you come by them that is your concern.

ILLO. And if I bring it to you in black on white, That all the leaders who are present here Give themselves up to you, without condition; Say, will you then--then will you show yourself In earnest, and with some decisive action Try your fortune.

WALLENSTEIN. Get but the signatures!

ILLO. Think what thou dost, thou canst not execute The emperor's orders, nor reduce thine army, Nor send the regiments to the Spaniards' aid, Unless thou wouldst resign thy power forever. Think on the other hand--thou canst not spurn The emperor's high commands and solemn orders, Nor longer temporize, nor seek evasion, Wouldst thou avoid a rupture with the court. Resolve then! Wilt thou now by one bold act Anticipate their ends, or, doubting still, Await the extremity?

WALLENSTEIN. There's time before The extremity arrives.

ILLO. Seize, seize the hour, Ere it slips from you. Seldom comes the moment In life, which is indeed sublime and weighty. To make a great decision possible, O! many things, all transient and all rapid, Must meet at once: and, haply, they thus met May by that confluence be enforced to pause Time long-enough for wisdom, though too short, Far, far too short a time for doubt and scruple! This is that moment. See, our army chieftains, Our best, our noblest, are assembled round you, Their king-like leader! On your nod they wait. The single threads, which here your prosperous fortune Hath woven together in one potent web Instinct with destiny, O! let them not Unravel of themselves. If you permit These chiefs to separate, so unanimous Bring you them not a second time together. 'Tis the high tide that heaves the stranded ship, And every individual's spirit waxes In the great stream of multitudes. Behold They are still here, here still! But soon the war Bursts them once more asunder, and in small Particular anxieties and interests Scatters their spirit, and the sympathy Of each man with the whole. He who to-day Forgets himself, forced onward with the stream, Will become sober, seeing but himself. Feel only his own weakness, and with speed Will face about, and march on in the old High road of duty, the old broad-trodden road, And seek but to make shelter in good plight.

WALLENSTEIN. The time is not yet come.

TERZKY. So you say always. But when will it be time?

WALLENSTEIN. When I shall say it.

ILLO. You'll wait upon the stars, and on their hours, Till the earthly hour escapes you. Oh, believe me, In your own bosom are your destiny's stars. Confidence in yourself, prompt resolution, This is your Venus! and the sole malignant, The only one that harmeth you is doubt.

WALLENSTEIN. Thou speakest as thou understandest. How oft And many a time I've told thee Jupiter, That lustrous god, was setting at thy birth. Thy visual power subdues no mysteries; Mole-eyed thou mayest but burrow in the earth, Blind as the subterrestrial, who with wan Lead-colored shine lighted thee into life. The common, the terrestrial, thou mayest see, With serviceable cunning knit together, The nearest with the nearest; and therein I trust thee and believe thee! but whate'er Full of mysterious import Nature weaves, And fashions in the depths--the spirit's ladder, That from this gross and visible world of dust, Even to the starry world, with thousand rounds, Builds itself up; on which the unseen powers Move up and down on heavenly ministries-- The circles in the circles, that approach The central sun with ever-narrowing orbit-- These see the glance alone, the unsealed eye, Of Jupiter's glad children born in lustre.

[He walks across the chamber, then returns, and standing still, proceeds.

The heavenly constellations make not merely The day and nights, summer and spring, not merely Signify to the husbandman the seasons Of sowing and of harvest. Human action, That is the seed, too, of contingencies, Strewed on the dark land of futurity In hopes to reconcile the powers of fate Whence it behoves us to seek out the seed-time, To watch the stars, select their proper hours, And trace with searching eye the heavenly houses, Whether the enemy of growth and thriving Hide himself not, malignant, in his corner. Therefore permit me my own time. Meanwhile Do you your part. As yet I cannot say What I shall do--only, give way I will not, Depose me, too, they shall not. On these points You may rely.

PAGE (entering). My lords, the generals.

WALLENSTEIN. Let them come in.

TERZKY. Shall all the chiefs be present?

WALLENSTEIN. 'Twere needless. Both the Piccolomini Maradas, Butler, Forgoetsch, Deodati, Karaffa, Isolani--these may come.

[TERZKY goes out with the PAGE.

WALLENSTEIN (to ILLO). Hast thou taken heed that Questenberg was watched? Had he no means of secret intercourse?

ILLO. I have watched him closely--and he spoke with none But with Octavio.

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Act II, Scene VII

WALLENSTRIN, TERZKY, ILLO.--To them enter QUESTENBERG, OCTAVIO, and MAX. PICCOLOMINI, BUTLER, ISOLANI, MARADAS, and three other Generals. WALLENSTEIN Motions QUESTENBERG, who in consequence takes the chair directly opposite to him; the others follow, arranging themselves according to their rank. There reigns a momentary silence.

WALLENSTEIN. I have understood, 'Tis true, the sum and import, Questenberg, Of your instructions. I have weighed them well, And formed my final, absolute resolve; Yet it seems fitting that the generals Should hear the will of the emperor from your mouth. May it please you then to open your commission Before these noble chieftains?

QUESTENBERG. I am ready To obey you; but will first entreat your highness, And all these noble chieftains, to consider, The imperial dignity and sovereign right Speaks from my mouth, and not my own presumption.

WALLENSTEIN. We excuse all preface.

QUESTENBERG. When his majesty The emperor to his courageous armies Presented in the person of Duke Friedland A most experienced and renowned commander, He did it in glad hope and confidence To give thereby to the fortune of the war A rapid and auspicious change. The onset Was favorable to his royal wishes. Bohemia was delivered from the Saxons, The Swede's career of conquest checked! These lands Began to draw breath freely, as Duke Friedland From all the streams of Germany forced hither The scattered armies of the enemy; Hither invoked as round one magic circle The Rhinegrave, Bernhard, Banner, Oxenstiern, Yea, and the never-conquered king himself; Here finally, before the eye of Nuernberg, The fearful game of battle to decide.

WALLENSTEIN. To the point, so please you.

QUESTENBERG. A new spirit At once proclaimed to us the new commander. No longer strove blind rage with rage more blind; But in the enlightened field of skill was shown How fortitude can triumph over boldness, And scientific art outweary courage. In vain they tempt him to the fight. He only Entrenches him still deeper in his hold, As if to build an everlasting fortress. At length grown desperate, now, the king resolves To storm the camp and lead his wasted legions, Who daily fall by famine and by plague, To quicker deaths and hunger and disease. Through lines of barricades behind whose fence Death lurks within a thousand mouths of fire, He yet unconquered strives to storm his way. There was attack, and there resistance, such As mortal eye had never seen before; Repulsed at last, the king withdrew his troops From this so murderous field, and not a foot Of ground was gained by all that fearful slaughter.

WALLENSTEIN. Pray spare us these recitals from gazettes, Which we ourselves beheld with deepest horror.

QUESTENBERG. In Nuernberg's camp the Swedish monarch left His fame--in Luetzen's plains his life. But who Stood not astounded, when victorious Friedland After this day of triumph, this proud day, Marched toward Bohemia with the speed of flight, And vanished from the theatre of war? While the young Weimar hero [7] forced his way Into Franconia, to the Danube, like Some delving winter-stream, which, where it rushes, Makes its own channel; with such sudden speed He marched, and now at once 'fore Regensburg Stood to the affright of all good Catholic Christians. Then did Bavaria's well-deserving prince Entreat swift aidance in his extreme need; The emperor sends seven horsemen to Duke Friedland, Seven horsemen couriers sends he with the entreaty He superadds his own, and supplicates Where as the sovereign lord he can command. In vain his supplication! At this moment The duke hears only his old hate and grudge, Barters the general good to gratify Private revenge--and so falls Regensburg.

WALLENSTEIN. Max., to what period of the war alludes he? My recollection fails me here.

MAX. He means When we were in Silesia.

WALLENSTEIN. Ay! is it so! But what had we to do there?

MAX. To beat out The Swedes and Saxons from the province.

WALLENSTEIN. True; In that description which the minister gave, I seemed to have forgotten the whole war. [TO QUESTENBERG. Well, but proceed a little.

QUESTENBERG. We hoped upon the Oder to regain What on the Danube shamefully was lost. We looked for deeds of all-astounding grandeur Upon a theatre of war, on which A Friedland led in person to the field, And the famed rival of the great Gustavus Had but a Thurn and Arnheim to oppose him! Yet the encounter of their mighty hosts Served but to feast and entertain each other. Our country groaned beneath the woes of war, Yet naught but peace prevailed in Friedland's camp!

WALLENSTEIN. Full many a bloody strife is fought in vain, Because its youthful general needs a victory. But 'tis the privilege of the old commander To spare the costs of fighting useless battles Merely to show that he knows how to conquer. It would have little helped my fame to boast Of conquest o'er an Arnheim; but far more Would my forbearance have availed my country, Had I succeeded to dissolve the alliance Existing 'twixt the Saxon and the Swede.

QUESTENBERG. But you did not succeed, and so commenced The fearful strife anew. And here at length, Beside the river Oder did the duke Assert his ancient fame. Upon the fields Of Steinau did the Swedes lay down their arms, Subdued without a blow. And here, with others, The righteousness of heaven to his avenger Delivered that long-practised stirrer-up Of insurrection, that curse-laden torch And kindler of this war, Matthias Thurn. But he had fallen into magnanimous hands Instead of punishment he found reward, And with rich presents did the duke dismiss The arch-foe of his emperor.

WALLENSTEIN (laughs). I know, I know you had already in Vienna Your windows and your balconies forestalled To see him on the executioner's cart. I might have lost the battle, lost it too With infamy, and still retained your graces-- But, to have cheated them of a spectacle, Oh! that the good folks of Vienna never, No, never can forgive me!

QUESTENBERG. So Silesia Was freed, and all things loudly called the duke Into Bavaria, now pressed hard on all sides. And he did put his troops in motion: slowly, Quite at his ease, and by the longest road He traverses Bohemia; but ere ever He hath once seen the enemy, faces round, Breaks up the march, and takes to winter-quarters.

WALLENSTEIN. The troops were pitiably destitute Of every necessary, every comfort, The winter came. What thinks his majesty His troops are made of? Aren't we men; subjected Like other men to wet, and cold, and all The circumstances of necessity? Oh, miserable lot of the poor soldier! Wherever he comes in all flee before him, And when he goes away the general curse Follows him on his route. All must be seized. Nothing is given him. And compelled to seize From every man he's every man's abhorrence. Behold, here stand my generals. Karaffa! Count Deodati! Butler! Tell this man How long the soldier's pay is in arrears.

BUTLER. Already a full year.

WALLENSTEIN. And 'tis the hire That constitutes the hireling's name and duties, The soldier's pay is the soldier's covenant. [8]

QUESTENBERG. Ah! this is a far other tone from that In which the duke spoke eight, nine years ago.

WALLENSTEIN. Yes! 'tis my fault, I know it: I myself Have spoilt the emperor by indulging him. Nine years ago, during the Danish war, I raised him up a force, a mighty force, Forty or fifty thousand men, that cost him Of his own purse no doit. Through Saxony The fury goddess of the war marched on, E'en to the surf-rocks of the Baltic, bearing The terrors of his name. That was a time! In the whole imperial realm no name like mine Honored with festival and celebration-- And Albrecht Wallenstein, it was the title Of the third jewel in his crown! But at the Diet, when the princes met At Regensburg, there, there the whole broke out, There 'twas laid open, there it was made known Out of what money-bag I had paid the host, And what were now my thanks, what had I now That I, a faithful servant of the sovereign, Had loaded on myself the people's curses, And let the princes of the empire pay The expenses of this war that aggrandizes The emperor alone. What thanks had I? What? I was offered up to their complaint Dismissed, degraded!

QUESTENBERG. But your highness knows What little freedom he possessed of action In that disastrous Diet.

WALLENSTEIN. Death and hell! I had that which could have procured him freedom No! since 'twas proved so inauspicious to me To serve the emperor at the empire's cost, I have been taught far other trains of thinking Of the empire and the Diet of the empire. From the emperor, doubtless, I received this staff, But now I hold it as the empire's general,-- For the common weal, the universal interest, And no more for that one man's aggrandizement! But to the point. What is it that's desired of me?

QUESTENBERG. First, his imperial majesty hath willed That without pretexts of delay the army Evacuate Bohemia.

WALLENSTEIN. In this season? And to what quarter wills the emperor That we direct our course?

QUESTENBERG. To the enemy. His majesty resolves, that Regensburg Be purified from the enemy ere Easter, That Lutheranism may be no longer preached In that cathedral, nor heretical Defilement desecrate the celebration Of that pure festival.

WALLENSTEIN. My generals, Can this be realized?

ILLO. 'Tis not possible.

BUTLER. It can't be realized.

QUESTENBERG. The emperor Already hath commanded Colonel Suys To advance towards Bavaria.

WALLENSTEIN. What did Suys?

QUESTENBERG. That which his duty prompted. He advanced.

WALLENSTEIN. What! he advanced? And I, his general, Had given him orders, peremptory orders Not to desert his station! Stands it thus With my authority? Is this the obedience Due to my office, which being thrown aside, No war can be conducted? Chieftains, speak You be the judges, generals. What deserves That officer who, of his oath neglectful, Is guilty of contempt of orders?

ILLO. Death.

WALLENSTEIN (raising his voice, as all but ILLO had remained silent and seemingly scrupulous). Count Piccolomini! what has he deserved?

MAX. PICCOLOMINI (after a long pause). According to the letter of the law, Death.

ISOLANI. Death.

BUTLER. Death, by the laws of war.

[QUESTENBERG rises from his seat, WALLENSTEIN follows, all the rest rise.

WALLENSTEIN. To this the law condemns him, and not I. And if I show him favor, 'twill arise From the reverence that I owe my emperor.

QUESTENBERG. If so, I can say nothing further--here!

WALLENSTEIN. I accepted the command but on conditions! And this the first, that to the diminution Of my authority no human being, Not even the emperor's self, should be entitled To do aught, or to say aught, with the army. If I stand warranter of the event, Placing my honor and my head in pledge, Needs must I have full mastery in all The means thereto. What rendered this Gustavus Resistless, and unconquered upon earth? This--that he was the monarch in his army! A monarch, one who is indeed a monarch, Was never yet subdued but by his equal. But to the point! The best is yet to come, Attend now, generals!

QUESTENBERG. The Prince Cardinal Begins his route at the approach of spring From the Milanese; and leads a Spanish army Through Germany into the Netherlands. That he may march secure and unimpeded, 'Tis the emperor's will you grant him a detachment Of eight horse-regiments from the army here.

WALLENSTEIN. Yes, yes! I understand! Eight regiments! Well, Right well concerted, Father Lanormain! Eight thousand horse! Yes, yes! 'tis as it should be I see it coming.

QUESTENBERG. There is nothing coming. All stands in front: the counsel of state-prudence, The dictate of necessity!

WALLENSTEIN. What then? What, my lord envoy? May I not be suffered To understand that folks are tired of seeing The sword's hilt in my grasp, and that your court Snatch eagerly at this pretence, and use The Spanish title, and drain off my forces, To lead into the empire a new army Unsubjected to my control? To throw me Plumply aside,--I am still too powerful for you To venture that. My stipulation runs, That all the imperial forces shall obey me Where'er the German is the native language. Of Spanish troops and of prince cardinals, That take their route as visitors, through the empire, There stands no syllable in my stipulation. No syllable! And so the politic court Steals in on tiptoe, and creeps round behind it; First makes me weaker, then to be dispensed with, Till it dares strike at length a bolder blow, And make short work with me. What need of all these crooked ways, lord envoy? Straightforward, man! his compact with me pinches The emperor. He would that I moved off! Well! I will gratify him! [Here there commences an agitation among the generals, which increases continually. It grieves me for my noble officers' sakes; I see not yet by what means they will come at The moneys they have advanced, or how obtain The recompense their services demand. Still a new leader brings new claimants forward, And prior merit superannuates quickly. There serve here many foreigners in the army, And were the man in all else brave and gallant, I was not wont to make nice scrutiny After his pedigree or catechism. This will be otherwise i' the time to come. Well; me no longer it concerns. [He seats himself. Forbid it, Heaven, that it should come to this! Our troops will swell in dreadful fermentation-- The emperor is abused--it cannot be.

ISOLANI. It cannot be; all goes to instant wreck.

WALLENSTEIN. Thou hast said truly, faithful Isolani! What we with toil and foresight have built up Will go to wreck--all go to instant wreck. What then? Another chieftain is soon found, Another army likewise (who dares doubt it?) Will flock from all sides to the emperor, At the first beat of his recruiting drum.

[During this speech, ISOLANI, TERZKY, ILLO, and MARADAS talk confusedly with great agitation.

MAX. PICCOLOMINI (busily and passionately going from one to another, and soothing them). Hear, my commander' Hear me, generals! Let me conjure you, duke! Determine nothing, Till we have met and represented to you Our joint remonstrances! Nay, calmer! Friends! I hope all may yet be set right again.

TERZKY. Away! let us away! in the antechamber Find we the others. [They go.

BUTLER (to QUESTENBERG). If good counsel gain Due audience from your wisdom, my lord envoy, You will be cautious how you show yourself In public for some hours to come--or hardly Will that gold key protect you from maltreatment.

[Commotions heard from without.

WALLENSTEIN. A salutary counsel--Thou, Octavio! Wilt answer for the safety of our guest. Farewell, von Questenberg! [QUESTENBURG is about to speak. Nay, not a word. Not one word more of that detested subject! You have performed your duty. We know now To separate the office from the man.

[AS QUESTENBERG is going off with OCTAVIO, GOETZ, TIEFENBACH, KOLATTO, press in, several other generals following them.

GOETZ. Where's he who means to rob us of our general?

TIEFENBACH (at the same time). What are we forced to bear? That thou wilt leave us?

KOLATTO (at the same time). We will live with thee, we will die with thee.

WALLENSTEIN (with stateliness, and pointing to ILLO). There! the field-marshal knows our will. [Exit.

[While all are going off the stage, the curtain drops.

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Act III, Scene I

A Small Chamber.

ILLO and TERZKY.

TERZKY. Now for this evening's business! How intend you To manage with the generals at the banquet?

ILLO. Attend! We frame a formal declaration, Wherein we to the duke consign ourselves Collectively, to be and to remain His, both with life and limb, and not to spare The last drop of our blood for him, provided, So doing we infringe no oath or duty We may be under to the emperor. Mark! This reservation we expressly make In a particular clause, and save the conscience. Now hear! this formula so framed and worded Will be presented to them for perusal Before the banquet. No one will find in it Cause of offence or scruple. Hear now further! After the feast, when now the vapering wine Opens the heart, and shuts the eyes, we let A counterfeited paper, in the which This one particular clause has been left out, Go round for signatures.

TERZKY. How! think you then That they'll believe themselves bound by an oath, Which we have tricked them into by a juggle?

ILLO. We shall have caught and caged them! Let them then Beat their wings bare against the wires, and rave Loud as they may against our treachery; At court their signatures will be believed Far more than their most holy affirmations. Traitors they are, and must be; therefore wisely Will make a virtue of necessity.

TERZKY. Well, well, it shall content me: let but something Be done, let only some decisive blow Set us in motion.

ILLO. Besides, 'tis of subordinate importance How, or how far, we may thereby propel The generals. 'Tis enough that we persuade The duke that they are his. Let him but act In his determined mood, as if he had them, And he will have them. Where he plunges in, He makes a whirlpool, and all stream down to it.

TERZKY. His policy is such a labyrinth, That many a time when I have thought myself Close at his side, he's gone at once, and left me Ignorant of the ground where I was standing. He lends the enemy his ear, permits me To write to them, to Arnheim; to Sesina Himself comes forward blank and undisguised; Talks with us by the hour about his plans, And when I think I have him--off at once-- He has slipped from me, and appears as if He had no scheme, but to retain his place.

ILLO. He give up his old plans! I'll tell you, friend! His soul is occupied with nothing else, Even in his sleep--they are his thoughts, his dreams, That day by day he questions for this purpose The motions of the planets----

TERZKY. Ah! you know This night, that is now coming, he with Seni, Shuts himself up in the astrological tower To make joint observations--for I hear It is to be a night of weight and crisis; And something great, and of long expectation, Takes place in heaven.

ILLO. O that it might take place On earth! The generals are full of zeal, And would with ease be led to anything Rather than lose their chief. Observe, too, that We have at last a fair excuse before us To form a close alliance 'gainst the court, Yet innocent its title, bearing simply That we support him only in command. But in the ardor of pursuit thou knowest Men soon forget the goal from which they started. The object I've in view is that the prince Shall either find them, or believe them ready For every hazard. Opportunity Will tempt him on. Be the great step once taken, Which at Vienna's court can ne'er be pardoned, The force of circumstances will lead him onward The farther still and farther. 'Tis the choice That makes him undecisive--come but need, And all his powers and wisdom will come with it.

TERZKY. 'Tis this alone the enemy awaits To change their chief and join their force with ours.

ILLO. Come! be we bold and make despatch. The work In this next day or two must thrive and grow More than it has for years. And let but only Things first turn up auspicious here below-- Mark what I say--the right stars, too, will show themselves. Come to the generals. All is in the glow, And must be beaten while 'tis malleable.

TERZKY. Do you go thither, Illo? I must stay And wait here for the Countess Terzky. Know That we, too, are not idle. Break one string, A second is in readiness.

ILLO. Yes! yes! I saw your lady smile with such sly meaning. What's in the wind?

TERZKY. A secret. Hush! she comes.

[Exit ILLO.

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Act III, Scene II

The COUNTESS steps out from a closet.

COUNT and COUNTESS TERZKY.

TERZKY. Well--is she coming? I can keep him back No longer.

COUNTESS. She will be here instantly, You only send him.

TERZKY. I am not quite certain, I must confess it, countess, whether or not We are earning the duke's thanks hereby. You know No ray has broke out from him on this point. You have o'erruled me, and yourself know best How far you dare proceed.

COUNTESS. I take it on me. [Talking to herself while she is advancing. Here's no heed of full powers and commissions; My cloudy duke! we understand each other-- And without words. What could I not unriddle, Wherefore the daughter should be sent for hither, Why first he, and no other should be chosen To fetch her hither? This sham of betrothing her To a bridegroom [9], whom no one knows--No! no! This may blind others! I see through thee, brother! But it beseems thee not to draw a card At such a game. Not yet! It all remains Mutely delivered up to my finessing. Well--thou shalt not have been deceived, Duke Friedland, In her who is thy sister.

SERVANT (enters). The commanders! [Exit.

TERZKY (to the COUNTESS). Take care you heat his fancy and affections-- Possess him with a reverie, and send him, Absent and dreaming to the banquet; that He may not boggle at the signature.

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

TERZKY. All rests upon his undersigning.

COUNTESS (interrupting him). Go to your guests! Go----

ILLO (comes back). Where art staying, Terzky? The house is full, and all expecting you.

TERZKY. Instantly! instantly! [To the COUNTESS. And let him not Stay here too long. It might awake suspicion In the old man----

COUNTESS. A truce with your precautions!

[Exeunt TERZKY and ILLO.

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Act III, Scene III

COUNTESS, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

MAX. (peeping in on the stage slyly). Aunt Terzky! may I venture? [Advances to the middle of the stage, and looks around him with uneasiness. She's not here! Where is she?

COUNTESS. Look but somewhat narrowly In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie Concealed behind that screen.

MAX. There lie her gloves!

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

You unkind lady! You refuse me this, You make it an amusement to torment me.

COUNTESS. And this the thanks you give me for my trouble?

MAX. O, if you felt the oppression at my heart! Since we've been here, so to constrain myself With such poor stealth to hazard words and glances. These, these are not my habits!

COUNTESS. You have still Many new habits to acquire, young friend! But on this proof of your obedient temper I must continue to insist; and only On this condition can I play the agent For your concerns.

MAX. But wherefore comes she not? Where is she?

COUNTESS. Into my hands you must place it Whole and entire. Whom could you find, indeed, More zealously affected to your interest? No soul on earth must know it--not your father; He must not, above all.

MAX. Alas! what danger? Here is no face on which I might concentre All the enraptured soul stirs up within me. O lady! tell me, is all changed around me? Or is it only I? I find myself, As among strangers! Not a trace is left Of all my former wishes, former joys. Where has it vanished to? There was a time When even, methought, with such a world as this, I was not discontented. Now how flat! How stale! No life, no bloom, no flavor in it! My comrades are intolerable to me. My father--even to him I can say nothing. My arms, my military duties--O! They are such wearying toys!

COUNTESS. But gentle friend! I must entreat it of your condescension, You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favor With one short glance or two this poor stale world, Where even now much, and of much moment, Is on the eve of its completion.

MAX. Something, I can't but know is going forward round me. I see it gathering, crowding, driving on, In wild uncustomary movements. Well, In due time, doubtless, it will reach even me. Where think you I have been, dear lady? Nay, No raillery. The turmoil of the camp, The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in, The pointless jest, the empty conversation, Oppressed and stifled me. I gasped for air-- I could not breathe--I was constrained to fly, To seek a silence out for my full heart; And a pure spot wherein to feel my happiness. No smiling, countess! In the church was I. There is a cloister here "To the heaven's gate," [10] Thither I went, there found myself alone. Over the altar hung a holy mother; A wretched painting 'twas, yet 'twas the friend That I was seeking in this moment. Ah, How oft have I beheld that glorious form In splendor, 'mid ecstatic worshippers; Yet, still it moved me not! and now at once Was my devotion cloudless as my love.

COUNTESS. Enjoy your fortune and felicity! Forget the world around you. Meantime, friendship Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active. Only be manageable when that friendship Points you the road to full accomplishment.

MAX. But where abides she then? Oh, golden time Of travel, when each morning sun united And but the coming night divided us; Then ran no sand, then struck no hour for us, And time, in our excess of happiness, Seemed on its course eternal to stand still. Oh, he hath fallen from out his heaven of bliss Who can descend to count the changing hours, No clock strikes ever for the happy!

COUNTESS. How long is it since you declared your passion?

MAX. This morning did I hazard the first word.

COUNTESS. This morning the first time in twenty days?

MAX. 'Twas at that hunting-castle, betwixt here And Nepomuck, where you had joined us, and That was the last relay of the whole journey; In a balcony we were standing mute, And gazing out upon the dreary field Before us the dragoons were riding onward, The safeguard which the duke had sent us--heavy; The inquietude of parting lay upon me, And trembling ventured at length these words: This all reminds me, noble maiden, that To-day I must take leave of my good fortune. A few hours more, and you will find a father, Will see yourself surrounded by new friends, And I henceforth shall be but as a stranger, Lost in the many--"Speak with my Aunt Terzky!" With hurrying voice she interrupted me. She faltered. I beheld a glowing red Possess her beautiful cheeks, and from the ground Raised slowly up her eye met mine--no longer Did I control myself. [The Princess THEKLA appears at the door, and remains standing, observed by the COUNTESS, but not by PICCOLOMINI. With instant boldness I caught her in my arms, my lips touched hers; There was a rustling in the room close by; It parted us--'Twas you. What since has happened You know.

COUNTESS (after a pause, with a stolen glance at THEKLA). And is it your excess of modesty Or are you so incurious, that you do not Ask me too of my secret?

MAX. Of your secret?

COUNTESS. Why, yes! When in the instant after you I stepped into the room, and found my niece there; What she in this first moment of the heart Taken with surprise----

MAX. (with eagerness). Well?

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