_To these enter_ WALLENSTEIN, _accompanied by_ ILLO _and_
BUTLER
WALLENSTEIN (_as he enters_).
Terzky!
TERZKY.
My General!
WALLENSTEIN.
Let our regiments hold themselves
In readiness to march; for we shall leave
Pilsen ere evening.
[_Exit_ TERZKY.]
Butler!
BUTLER.
Yes, my General.
WALLENST.
The Governor of Egra is your friend
And countryman. Write to him instantly
By a post-courier. He must be advised,
That we are with him early on the morrow.
You follow us yourself, your regiment with you.
BUTLER.
It shall be done, my General!
WALLENSTEIN (_steps between_ MAX _and_ THEKLA, _who have
remained during this time in each other's arms_).
Part!
MAX.
O God!
[Cuirassiers _enter with drawn swords, and assemble in the
background. At the same time there are heard from below some
spirited passages out of the Pappenheim March, which seem to
address_ MAX.]
WALLENSTEIN (_to the Cuirassiers_).
Here he is, he is at liberty: I keep him
No longer.
[_He turns away, and stands so that_ MAX _cannot pass by him
nor approach the_ PRINCESS.]
MAX.
Thou know'st that I have not yet learnt to live
Without thee! I go forth into a desert,
Leaving my all behind me. O do not turn
Thine eyes away from me! O once more show me
Thy ever dear and honor'd countenance!
[MAX _attempts to take his hand, but is repelled; he turns
to the_ COUNTESS.]
Is there no eye that has a look of pity for me?
[_The_ COUNTESS _turns away from him; he turns to the_
DUCHESS.]
My mother!
DUCHESS.
Go where duty calls you. Haply
The time may come, when you may prove to us
A true friend, a good angel at the throne
Of the Emperor.
MAX.
You give me hope; you would not
Suffer me wholly to despair. No! no!
Mine is a certain misery. Thanks to Heaven!
That offers me a means of ending it.
[_The military music begins again. The stage fills more and
more with armed men_. MAX _sees_ BUTLER _and addresses
him_.]
And you here, Colonel Butler--and will you
Not follow me? Well, then! remain more faithful
To your new lord than you have proved yourself
To the Emperor. Come, Butler! promise me,
Give me your hand upon it, that you'll be
The guardian of his life, its shield, its watchman.
He is attainted, and his princely head
Fair booty for each slave that trades in murder.
Now he doth need the faithful eye of friendship,
And those whom here I see--
[_Casting suspicious looks on_ ILLO _and_ BUTLER.]
ILLO.
Go--seek for traitors
In Gallas', in your father's quarters. Here
Is only one. Away! away! and free us
From his detested sight! Away!
[MAX _attempts once more to approach_ THEKLA. WALLENSTEIN
_prevents him_. MAX _stands irresolute, and in apparent
anguish. In the mean time the stage fills more and more; and
the horns sound from below louder and louder, and each time
after a shorter interval_.]
MAX.
Blow! blow! O were it but the Swedish trumpets,
And all the naked swords, which I see here,
Were plunged into my breast! What purpose you?
You come to tear me from this place! Beware,
Ye drive me not to desperation. Do it not!
Ye may repent it!
[_The stage is entirely filled with armed men_.]
Yet more! weight upon weight to drag me down!
Think what ye're doing. It is not well done
To choose a man despairing for your leader;
You tear me from my happiness. Well, then,
I dedicate your souls to vengeance. Mark!
For your own ruin you have chosen me:
Who goes with me, must be prepared to perish.
[_He turns to the background, there ensues a sudden and
violent movement among the Cuirassiers; they surround him,
and carry him off in wild tumult_. WALLENSTEIN_ remains
immovable_. THEKLA _sinks into her mother's arms. The
curtain falls. The music becomes loud and overpowering, and
passes into a complete war march--the orchestra joins it and
continues during the interval between the second and third
Act_.]
ACT IV
SCENE I
_The Burgomaster's House at Egra_
BUTLER (_just arrived_).
Here then he is, by his destiny conducted.
Here, Friedland! and no farther! From Bohemia
Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile,
And here upon the borders of Bohemia
Must sink.
Thou hast foresworn the ancient colors,
Blind man! yet trustest to thy ancient fortunes.
Profaner of the altar and the hearth,
Against thy Emperor and fellow citizens
Thou mean'st to wage the war. Friedland, beware--
The evil spirit of revenge impels thee--
Beware thou, that revenge destroy thee not!
SCENE II
BUTLER _and_ GORDON
GORDON.
Is it you?
How my heart sinks! The Duke a fugitive traitor!
His princely head attainted! O my God!
[Tell me, General, I implore thee, tell me
In full, of all these sad events at Pilsen.]
BUTLER.
You have received the letter which I sent you
By a post-courier?
GORDON.
Yes: and in obedience to it
Open'd the stronghold to him without scruple,
For an imperial letter orders me
To follow your commands implicitly.
But yet forgive me! when even now I saw
The Duke himself my scruples recommenced;
For truly, not like an attainted man,
Into this town did Friedland make his entrance;
His wonted majesty beam'd from his brow,
And calm, as in the days when all was right,
Did he receive from me the accounts of office.
'Tis said that fallen pride learns condescension;
But sparing and with dignity the Duke
Weigh'd every syllable of approbation,
As masters praise a servant who has done
His duty and no more.
BUTLER.
'Tis all precisely
As I related in my letter. Friedland
Has sold the army to the enemy,
And pledged himself to give up Prague and Egra.
On this report the regiments all forsook him,
The five excepted that belong to Terzky,
And which have follow'd him, as thou hast seen
The sentence of attainder is pass'd on him,
And every loyal subject is required
To give him in to justice, dead or living.
GORDON.
A traitor to the Emperor! Such a noble!
Of such high talents! What is human greatness!
I often said, this can't end happily.
His might, his greatness, and his obscure power
Are but a cover'd pit-fall. The human being
May not be trusted to self-government.
The clear and written law, the deep trod foot-marks
Of ancient custom, are all necessary
To keep him in the road of faith and duty.
The authority intrusted to this man
Was unexampled and unnatural,
It placed him on a level with his Emperor,
Till the proud soul unlearn'd submission. Woe is me!
I mourn for him! for where he fell, I deem
Might none stand firm. Alas! dear General,
We in our lucky mediocrity
Have ne'er experienced, cannot calculate,
What dangerous wishes such a height may breed
In the heart of such a man.
BUTLER.
Spare your laments
Till he need sympathy; for at this present
He is still mighty, and still formidable.
The Swedes advance to Egra by forced marches,
And quickly will the junction be accomplish'd.
This must not be! The Duke must never leave
This stronghold on free footing; for I have
Pledged life and honor here to hold him prisoner,
And your assistance 'tis on which I calculate.
GORDON.
O that I had not lived to see this day!
From his hand I received this dignity;
He did himself intrust this stronghold to me,
Which I am now required to make his dungeon.
We subalterns have no will of our own:
The free, the mighty man alone may listen
To the fair impulse of his human nature.
Ah! we are but the poor tools of the law,
Obedience the sole virtue we dare aim at!
BUTLER.
Nay! let it not afflict you, that your power
Is circumscribed. Much liberty, much error!
The narrow path of duty is securest.
GORDON.
And all then have deserted him you say?
He has built up the luck of many thousands;
For kingly was his spirit: his full hand
Was ever open! Many a one from dust
[_With a sly glance on_ BUTLER.]
Hath he selected, from the very dust
Hath raised him into dignity and honor,
And yet no friend, not one friend hath he purchased,
Whose heart beats true to him in the evil hour.
BUTLER.
Here's one, I see.
GORDON.
I have enjoy'd from him
No grace or favor. I could almost doubt
If ever in his greatness he once thought on
An old friend of his youth. For still my office
Kept me at a distance from him; and when first
He to this citadel appointed me,
He was sincere and serious in his duty.
I do not then abuse his confidence,
If I preserve my fealty in that
Which to my fealty was first delivered.
BUTLER.
Say, then, will you fulfil th' attainder on him,
[And lend your aid to take him in arrest?]
GORDON (_pauses, reflecting--then as in deep dejection_).
If it be so--if all be as you say--
If he've betray'd the Emperor, his master,
Have sold the troops, have purposed to deliver
The strongholds of the country to the enemy--
Yea, truly!--there is no redemption for him
Yet it is hard that me the lot should destine
To be the instrument of his perdition;
For we were pages at the court of Bergau
At the same period; but I was the senior.
BUTLER.
I have heard so--
GORDON.
'Tis full thirty years since then,
A youth who scarce had seen his twentieth year
Was Wallenstein, when he and I were friends.
Yet even then he had a daring soul:
His frame of mind was serious and severe
Beyond his years: his dreams were of great objects,
He walk'd amidst us of a silent spirit,
Communing with himself; yet I have known him
Transported on a sudden into utterance
Of strange conceptions; kindling into splendor,
His soul reveal'd itself, and he spake so
That we look'd round perplex 'd upon each other,
Not knowing whether it were craziness,
Or whether it were a god that spoke in him.
BUTLER.
But was it where he fell two-story-high
From a window-ledge, on which he had fallen asleep
And rose up free from injury? From this day
(It is reported) he betrayed clear marks
Of a distemper'd fancy.
GORDON.
He became
Doubtless more self-enwrapt and melancholy;
He made himself a Catholic.[30] Marvelously
His marvelous preservation had transform'd him.
Thenceforth he held himself for an exempted
And privileged being, and, as if he were
Incapable of dizziness or fall,
He ran along the unsteady rope of life.
But now our destinies drove us asunder,
He paced with rapid step the way of greatness,
Was Count, and Prince, Duke-regent, and Dictator--
And now is all, all this too little for him;
He stretches forth his hands for a king's crown,
And plunges in unfathomable ruin.
BUTLER.
No more, he comes.
SCENE III
_To these enter_ WALLENSTEIN, _in conversation with the_
BURGOMASTER _of Egra_.
WALLENST.
You were at one time a free town. I see,
Ye bear the half eagle in your city arms.
Why the _half_ eagle only?
BURGOMASTER.
We were free,
But for these last two hundred years has Egra
Remain'd in pledge to the Bohemian crown;
Therefore we bear the half eagle, the other half
Being cancell'd till the empire ransom us,
If ever that should be.
WALLENSTEIN.
Ye merit freedom.
Only be firm and dauntless. Lend your ears
To no designing whispering court-minions.
What may your imposts be?
BURGOMASTER.
So heavy that
We totter under them. The garrison
Lives at our costs.
WALLENSTEIN.
I will relieve you. Tell me,
There are some Protestants among you still
[_The_ BURGOMASTER _hesitates_.]
Yes, yes; I know it. Many lie conceal'd
Within these walls--confess now--you your self--
[_Fixes his eye on him. The_ BURGOMASTER
_alarmed_.]
Be not alarm'd. I hate the Jesuits.
Could my will have determined it, they had
Been long ago expell'd the empire. Trust me--
Mass-book or bible, 'tis all one to me.
Of that the world has had sufficient proof.
I built a church for the Reform'd in Glogau
At my own instance. Harkye, Burgomaster!
What is your name?
BURGOMASTER.
Pachhalbel, may it please you.
WALLENST.
Harkye!--
But let it go no further, what I now
Disclose to you in confidence.
[_Laying his hand on the_ BURGOMASTER'S _shoulder with a
certain solemnity_.]
The times
Draw near to their fulfilment, Burgomaster!
The high will fall, the low will be exalted.
Harkye! But keep it to yourself! The end
Approaches of the Spanish double monarchy--
A new arrangement is at hand. You saw
The three moons that appear'd at once in the Heaven.
BURGOM.
With wonder and affright!
WALLENSTEIN.
Whereof did two
Strangely transform themselves to bloody daggers,
And only one, the middle moon, remained
Steady and clear.
BURGOMASTER.
We applied it to the Turks.
WALLENST.
The Turks! That all?--I tell you, that two empires
Will set in blood, in the East and in the West,
And Luth'ranism alone remain.
[_Observing_ GORDON _and_ BUTLER.]
I' faith,
'Twas a smart cannonading that we heard
This evening, as we journey'd hitherward;
'Twas on our left hand. Did you hear it here?
GORDON.
Distinctly. The wind brought it from the south.
BUTLER.
It seem'd to came from Weiden or from Neustadt.
WALLENST.
'Tis likely. That's the route the Swedes are taking.
How strong is the garrison?
GORDON.
Not quite two hundred
Competent men, the rest are invalids.
WALLENST.
Good! And how many in the vale of Jochim?
GORDON.
Two hundred harquebusiers have I sent thither
To fortify the posts against the Swedes.
WALLENST.
Good! I commend your foresight. At the works too
You have done somewhat?
GORDON.
Two additional batteries
I caused to be run up. They were needless.
The Rhinegrave presses hard upon us, General!
WALLENST.
You have been watchful in your Emperor's service.
I am content with you, Lieutenant-Colonel.
[_To_ BUTLER.]
Release the outposts in the vale of Jochim
With all the stations in the enemy's route.
[_To_ GORDON.]
Governor, in your faithful hands I leave
My wife, my daughter, and my sister. I
Shall make no stay here, and wait but the arrival
Of letters to take leave of you, together
With all the regiments.
SCENE IV
_To these enter_ COUNT TERZKY
TERZKY.
Joy, General; joy! I bring you welcome tidings.
WALLENST.
And what may they be?
TERZKY.
There has been an engagement
At Neustadt; the Swedes gain'd the victory.
WALLENST.
From whence did you receive the intelligence?
TERZKY.
A countryman from Tirschenreut convey'd it.
Soon after sunrise did the fight begin!
A troop of the Imperialists from Tachau
Had forced their way into the Swedish camp;
The cannonade continued full two hours;
There were left dead upon the field a thousand
Imperialists, together with their Colonel;
Further than this he did not know.
WALLENSTEIN.
How came
Imperial troops at Neustadt? Altringer,
But yesterday, stood sixty miles from there.
Count Gallas' force collects at Frauenberg,
And have not the full complement. Is it possible
That Suys perchance had ventured so far onward?
It cannot be.
TERZKY.
We shall soon know the whole,
For here comes Illo, full of haste, and joyous.
SCENE V
_To these enter_ ILLO
ILLO (_to_ WALLENSTEIN).
A courier, Duke! he wishes to speak with thee.
TERZKY (_eagerly_).
Does he bring confirmation of the victory?
WALLENSTEIN (_at the same time_).
What does he bring? Whence comes he?
ILLO.
From the Rhinegrave
And what he brings I can announce to you
Beforehand. Seven leagues distant are the Swedes;
At Neustadt did Max Piccolomini
Throw himself on them with the cavalry;
A murderous fight took place! o'erpower'd by numbers
The Pappenheimers all, with Max their leader,
[WALLENSTEIN _shudders and turns pale_.]
Were left dead on the field.
WALLENSTEIN (_after a pause, in a low voice_).
Where is the messenger? Conduct me to him.
[WALLENSTEIN _is going, when_ LADY NEUBRUNN _rushes into the
room. Some servants follow her and run across the stage_.]
NEUBR.
Help! Help!
ILLO _and_ TERZKY (_at the same time_).
What now?
NEUBRUNN.
The Princess!
WALTENSTEIN _and_ TERZKY.
Does she know it?
NEUBRUNN _(at the same time with them_).
She is dying!
[_Hurries off the stage, when_ WALLENSTEIN _and_ TERZKY
_follow her_.]
SCENE VI
BUTLER _and_ GORDON
GORDON.
What's this?
BUTLER.
She has lost the man she loved--
Young Piccolomini who fell in the battle.
GORDON.
Unfortunate Lady!
BUTLER.
You have heard what Illo
Reporteth, that the Swedes are conquerors,
And marching hitherward.
GORDON.
Too well I heard it.
BUTLER.
They are twelve regiments strong, and there are five
Close by us to protect the Duke. We have
Only my single regiment; and the garrison
Is not two hundred strong.
GORDON.
'Tis even so.
BUTLER.
It is not possible with such small force
To hold in custody a man like him.
GORDON.
I grant it.
BUTLER.
Soon the numbers would disarm us,
And liberate him.
GORDON.
It were to be fear 'd.
BUTLER (_after a pause_).
Know, I am warranty for the event;
With my head have I pledged myself for his,
Must make my word good, cost it what it will,
And if alive we cannot hold him prisoner,
Why--death makes all things certain!
GORDON.
Butler! What?
Do I understand you? Gracious God! _You_ could--
BUTLER.
He must not live.
GORDON.
And _you_ can do the deed!
BUTLER.
Either you or I. This morning was his last.
GORDON.
You would assassinate him!
BUTLER.
'Tis my purpose.
GORDON.
Who leans with his whole confidence upon you!
BUTLER.
Such is his evil destiny!
GORDON.
Your General!
The sacred person of your General!
BUTLER.
My General he _has been_.
GORDON.
That 'tis only
A "_has been_" washes out no villiany.
And without judgment pass'd?
BUTLER.
The execution
Is here instead of judgment.
GORDON.
This were murder,
Not justice. The most guilty should be heard.
BUTLER.
His guilt is clear, the Emperor has pass'd judgment,
And we but execute his will.
GORDON.
We should not
Hurry to realize a bloody sentence;
A word may be recall'd, a life can never be.
BUTLER.
Dispatch in service pleases sovereigns.
GORDON.
No honest man's ambitious to press forward
To the hangman's service.
BUTLER.
And no brave man loses
His color at a daring enterprise.
GORDON.
A brave man hazards life, but not his conscience.
BUTLER.
What then? Shall he go forth anew to kindle
The unextinguishable flame of war?
GORDON.
Seize him, and hold him prisoner--do not kill him.
BUTLER.
Had not the Emperor's army been defeated,
I might have done so.--But 'tis now past by.
GORDON.
O, wherefore open'd I the stronghold to him?
BUTLER.
His destiny and not the place destroys him.
GORDON.
Upon these ramparts, as beseem'd a soldier,
I had fallen, defending the Emperor's citadel!
BUTLER.
Yes, and a thousand gallant men have perish'd.
GORDON.
Doing their duty--that adorns the man!
But murder's a black deed, and nature curses it.
BUTLER (_brings out a paper_).
Here is the manifesto which commands us
To gain possession of his person. See--
It is addressed to you as well as me.
Are you content to take the consequences,
If through our fault he escape to the enemy?
GORDON.
I?--Gracious God!
BUTLER.
Take it on yourself
Come of it what may; on you I lay it.
GORDON.
O God in heaven!
BUTLER.
Can you advise aught else
Wherewith to execute the Emperor's purpose?
Say if you can. For I desire his fall,
Not his destruction.
GORDON.
Merciful heaven! what must be
I see as clear as you. Yet still the heart
Within my bosom beats with other feelings!
BUTLER.
Mine is of harder stuff! Necessity
In her rough school hath steel'd me. And this Illo,
And Terzky likewise, they must not survive him.
GORDON.
I feel no pang for these. Their own bad hearts
Impell'd them, not the influence of the stars.
'Twas they who strew'd the seeds of evil passions
In his calm breast, and with officious villiany
Water'd and nursed the pois'nous plants. May they
Receive their earnests to the uttermost mite!
BUTLER.
And their death shall precede his!
We meant to have taken them alive this evening
Amid the merry-making of a feast,
And keep them prisoners in the citadel.
But this makes shorter work. I go this instant
To give the necessary orders.
SCENE VII
_To these enter_ ILLO _and_ TERZKY
TERZKY.
Our luck is on the turn. Tomorrow come
The Swedes--twelve thousand gallant warriors, Illo,
Then straightwise for Vienna. Cheerily, friend!
What! meet such news with such a moody face?
ILLO.
It lies with us at present to prescribe
Laws, and take vengeance on those worthless traitors,
Those skulking cowards that deserted us;
One has already done his bitter penance,
The Piccolomini: be his the fate
Of all who wish us evil! This flies sure
To the old man's heart; he has his whole life long
Fretted and toil'd to raise his ancient house
From a Count's title to the name of prince;
And now must seek a grave for his only son.
BUTLER.
'Twas pity, though! A youth of such heroic
And gentle temperament! The Duke himself,
'Twas easily seen, how near it went to his heart.
ILLO.
Hark ye, old friend! That is the very point
That never pleased me in our General--
He ever gave the preference to the Italians.
Yea, at this very moment, by my soul!
He'd gladly see us all dead ten times over,
Could he thereby recall his friend to life.
TERZKY.
Hush, hush! Let the dead rest! This evening's business
Is, who can fairly drink the other down--
Your regiment, Illo! gives the entertainment.
Come! we will keep a merry carnival--
The night for once be day, and 'mid full glasses
Will we expect the Swedish avant-garde.
ILLO.
Yes, let us be of good cheer for today,
For there's hot work before us, friends! This sword
Shall have no rest, till it be bathed to the hilt
In Austrian blood.
GORDON.
Shame, shame! what talk is this
My Lord Field-Marshal? Wherefore foam you so
Against your Emperor?
BUTLER.
Hope not too much
From this first victory. Bethink you, sirs!
How rapidly the wheel of Fortune turns;
The Emperor still is formidably strong.
ILLO.
The Emperor has soldiers, no commander,
For this King Ferdinand of Hungary
Is but a tyro. Gallas? He's no luck,
And was of old the ruiner of armies.
And then this viper, this Octavio,
Is excellent at stabbing in the back,
But ne'er meets Friedland in the open field.
TERZKY.
Trust me, my friends, it cannot but succeed;
Fortune, we know, can ne'er forsake the Duke!
And only under Wallenstein can Austria
Be conqueror.
ILLO.
The Duke will soon assemble
A mighty army: all comes crowding, streaming
To banners, dedicate by destiny
To fame and prosperous fortune. I behold
Old times come back again! he will become
Once more the mighty Lord which he has been.
How will the fools, who've now deserted him,
Look then? I can't but laugh to think of them,
For lands will he present to all his friends,
And like a King and Emperor reward
True services; but we've the nearest claims.
[_To_ GORDON.]
You will not be forgotten, Governor!
He'll take you from this nest, and bid you shine
In higher station: your fidelity
Well merits it.
GORDON.
I am content already
And wish to climb no higher; where great height is,
The fall must needs be great. "Great height, great depth."
ILLO.
Here you have no more business, for tomorrow
The Swedes will take possession of the citadel.
Come, Terzky, it is supper-time. What think you?
Nay, shall we have the town illuminated
In honor of the Swede? And who refuses
To do it is a Spaniard and a traitor.
TERZKY.
Nay! nay! not that, it will not please the Duke--
ILLO.
What! we are masters here; no soul shall dare
Avow himself Imperial where we've the rule.
Gordon! good night, and for the last time, take
A fair leave of the place. Send out patroles
To make secure, the watch-word may be alter'd
At the stroke of ten; deliver in the keys
To the Duke himself, and then you've quit for ever
Your wardship of the gates, for on tomorrow
The Swedes will take possession of the citadel.
TERZKY (_as he is going, to_ BUTLER).
You come, though, to the castle?
BUTLER.
At the right time.
[_Exeunt_ TERZKY _and_ ILLO.]
SCENE VIII
GORDON _and_ BUTLER
GORDON (_looking after them_).
Unhappy men! How free from all foreboding!
They rush into the outspread net of murder
In the blind drunkenness of victory;
I have no pity for their fate. This Illo,
This overflowing and foolhardy villain,
That would fain bathe himself in his Emperor's blood.--
BUTLER.
Do as he order'd you. Send round patroles,
Take measures for the citadel's security;
When they are within I close the castle-gate
That nothing may transpire.
GORDON (_with earnest anxiety_).
Oh! haste not so!
Nay, stop; first tell me--
BUTLER.
You have heard already,
Tomorrow to the Swedes belongs. This night
Alone is ours. They make good expedition,
But we will make still greater. Fare you well.
GORDON.
Ah! your looks tell me nothing good. Nay, Butler,
I pray you, promise me!
BUTLER.
The sun has set;
A fateful evening doth descend upon us,
And brings on their long night! Their evil stars
Deliver them unarm'd into our hands,
And from their drunken dream of golden fortunes
The dagger at their heart shall rouse them. Well,
The Duke was ever a great calculator;
His fellow-men were figures on his chess-board,
To move and station, as his game required.
Other men's honor, dignity, good name,
Did he shift like pawns, and make no conscience of;
Still calculating, calculating still;
And yet at last his calculation proves
Erroneous; the whole game is lost; and lo!
His own life will be found among the forfeits.
GORDON.
O think not of his errors now! remember
His greatness, his munificence; think on all
The lovely features of his character,
On all the noble exploits of his life,
And let them, like an angel's arm, unseen,
Arrest the lifted sword.
BUTLER.
It is too late.
I suffer not myself to feel compassion;
Dark thoughts and bloody are my _duty_ now:
[_Grasping_ GORDON's _hand_.]
Gordon! 'tis not my hatred (I pretend not
To love the Duke, and have no cause to love him),
Yet 'tis not now my hatred that impels me
To be his murderer. 'Tis his evil fate.
Hostile concurrences of many events
Control and subjugate me to the office.
In vain the human being meditates
Free action. He is but the wire-work'd[31] puppet
Of the blind Power, which out of its own choice
Creates for him a dread necessity.
What too would it avail him, if there were
A something pleading for him in my heart--
Still I must kill him.
GORDON.
If your heart speak to you,
Follow its impulse. 'Tis the voice of God.
Think you your fortunes will grow prosperous
Bedew'd with blood--his blood? Believe it not!
BUTLER.
You know not. Ask not! Wherefore should it happen
That the Swedes gain'd the victory, and hasten
With such forced marches hitherward? Fain would I
Have given him to the Emperor's mercy. Gordon!
I do not wish his blood--But I must ransom
The honor of my word--it lies in pledge--
And he must die, or--
[_Passionately grasping_ GORDON's _hand_.]
Listen then, and know,
I am _dishonor'd_ if the Duke escape us.
GORDON.
O! to save such a man--
BUTLER.
What!
GORDON.
It is worth
A sacrifice. Come, friend! Be noble-minded!
Our own heart, and not other men's opinions,
Forms our true honor.
BUTLER (_with a cold and haughty air_).
He is a great Lord,
This Duke--and I am but of mean importance.
This is what you would say! Wherein concerns it
The world at large, you mean to hint to me,
Whether the man of low extraction keeps
Or blemishes his honor--
So that the man of princely rank be saved?
We all do stamp our value on ourselves:
The price we challenge for ourselves is given us.
There does not live on earth the man so station'd
That I despise myself, compared with him.
Man is made great or little by his own will;
Because I am true to mine, therefore he dies.
GORDON.
I am endeavoring to move a rock.
Thou hadst a mother, yet no human feelings.
I cannot hinder you, but may some God
Rescue him from you!
[_Exit_ GORDON.]
BUTLER[32] (_alone_).
I treasured my good name all my life long;
The Duke has cheated me of life's best jewel,
So that I blush before this poor weak Gordon!
He prizes above all his fealty;
His conscious soul accuses him of nothing;
In opposition to his own soft heart
He subjugates himself to an iron duty.
Me in a weaker moment passion warp'd;
I stand beside him, and must feel myself
The worse man of the two. What, though the world
Is ignorant of my purposed treason, yet
_One_ man does know it, and can prove it too--
High-minded Piccolomini!
There lives the man who can dishonor me!
This ignominy blood alone can cleanse!
Duke Friedland, thou or I--Into my own hands
Fortune delivers me--The dearest thing a man has is himself.
SCENE IX
_A Gothic and gloomy Apartment at the_ DUCHESS FRIEDLAND'S.
THEKLA _on a seat, pale, her eyes closed. The_ DUCHESS _and_
LADY NEUBRUNN _busied about her_. WALLENSTEIN _and the_
COUNTESS _in conversation_.
WALLENST.
How knew she it so soon?
COUNTESS.
She seems to have
Foreboded some misfortune. The report
Of an engagement, in the which had fallen
A colonel of the Imperial army, frighten'd her.
I saw it instantly. She flew to meet
The Swedish courier, and with sudden questioning
Soon wrested from him the disastrous secret.
Too late we missed her, hasten'd after her,
We found her lying in his arms, all pale
And in a swoon.
WALLENSTEIN.
A heavy, heavy blow!
And she so unprepared! Poor child! how is it?
[_Turning to the_ DUCHESS.]
Is she coming to herself?
DUCHESS.
Her eyes are opening.
COUNTESS.
She lives!
THEKLA (_looking around her_).
Where am I?
WALLENSTEIN (_steps to her, raising her up in his arms_).
Come, cheer'ly, Thekla! be my own brave girl!
See, there's thy loving mother. Thou art in
Thy father's arms.
THEKLA (_standing up_).
Where is he? Is he gone?
DUCHESS.
Who gone, my daughter?
THEKLA.
He--the man who utter'd
That word of misery.
DUCHESS.
O! think not of it,
My Thekla!
WALLENSTEIN.
Give her sorrow leave to talk!
Let her complain--mingle your tears with hers,
For she hath suffer'd a deep anguish; but
She'll rise superior to it, for my Thekla
Hath all her father's unsubdued heart.
THEKLA.
I am not ill. See, I have power to stand.
Why does my mother weep? Have I alarm'd her?
It is gone by--I recollect myself--
[_She casts her eyes round the room, as seeking some one._]
Where is he? Please you, do not hide him from me.
You see I have strength enough: now I will hear him.
DUCHESS.
No; never shall this messenger of evil
Enter again into thy presence, Thekla!
THEKLA.
My father--
WALLENSTEIN.
Dearest daughter!
THEKLA.
I'm not weak--
Shortly I shall be quite myself again.
You'll grant me one request?
WALLENSTEIN.
Name it, my daughter.
THEKLA.
Permit the stranger to be called to me,
And grant me leave that by myself I may
Hear his report and question him.
DUCHESS.
No, never!
COUNTESS.
'Tis not advisable--assent not to it.
WALLENST.
Hush! Wherefore wouldst thou speak with him, my daughter?
THEKLA.
Knowing the whole, I shall be more collected;
I will not be deceived. My mother wishes
Only to spare me. I will not be spared--
The worst is said already: I can hear
Nothing of deeper anguish!
COUNTESS _and_ DUCHESS.
Do it not.
THEKLA.
The horror overpower'd me by surprise.
My heart betray'd me in the stranger's presence:
He was a witness of my weakness, yea,
I sank into his arms; and that has shamed me.
I must replace myself in his esteem,
And I must speak with him, perforce, that he,
The stranger, may not think ungently of me.
WALLENST.
I see she is in the right, and am inclined
To grant her this request of hers. Go, call him.
[LADY NEUBRUNN _goes to call him_.]
DUCHESS.
But I, thy mother, will be present--
THEKLA.
'Twere
More pleasing to me, if alone I saw him;
Trust me, I shall behave myself the more
Collectedly.
WALLENSTEIN.
Permit her own will.
Leave her alone with him: for there are sorrows
Where of necessity the soul must be
Its own support. A strong heart will rely
On its own strength alone. In her own bosom,
Not in her mother's arms, must she collect
The strength to rise superior to this blow.
It is mine own brave girl. I'll have her treated
Not as a woman, but the heroine. [_Going_.]
COUNTESS (_detaining him_).
Where art thou going? I heard Terzky say
That 'tis _thy_ purpose to depart from hence
Tomorrow early, but to leave us here.
WALLENST.
Yes, ye stay here, placed under the protection
Of gallant men.
COUNTESS.
O take us with you, brother.
Leave us not in this gloomy solitude
To brood o'er anxious thoughts. The mists of doubt
Magnify evils to a shape of horror.
WALLENST.
Who speaks of evil? I entreat you, sister,
Use words of better omen.
COUNTESS.
Then take us with you.
O leave us not behind you in a place
That forces us to such sad omens. Heavy
And sick within me is my heart--
These walls breathe on me, like a church-yard vault.
I cannot tell you, brother, how this place
Doth go against my nature. Take us with you.
Come, sister, join you your entreaty! Niece,
Yours too. We all entreat you, take us with you!
WALLENST.
The place's evil omens will I change,
Making it that which shields and shelters for me
My best beloved.
LADY NEUBRUNN (_returning_).
The Swedish officer.
WALLENST.
Leave her alone with him.
DUCHESS (_to_ THEKLA, _who starts and shivers_).
There--pale as death! Child, 'tis impossible
That thou shouldst speak with him. Follow thy mother.
THEKLA.
The Lady Neubrunn then may stay with me.
[_Exeunt_ DUCHESS _and_ COUNTESS.]
SCENE X
THEKLA, _the_ SWEDISH CAPTAIN, LADY NEUBRUNN
CAPTAIN (_respectfully approaching her_).
Princess--I must entreat your gentle pardon--
My inconsiderate rash speech. How could I--
THEKLA (_with dignity_).
You have beheld me in my agony.
A most distressful accident occasion'd
You from a stranger to become at once
My confidant.
CAPTAIN.
I fear you hate my presence,
For my tongue spake a melancholy word.
THEKLA.
The fault is mine. Myself did wrest it from you.
The horror which came o'er me interrupted
Your tale at its commencement. May it please you,
Continue it to the end.
CAPTAIN.
Princess, 'twill
Renew your anguish.
THEKLA.
I am firm--
I _will_ be firm. Well--how began the engagement?
CAPTAIN.
We lay, expecting no attack, at Neustadt,
Intrench'd but insecurely in our camp,
When toward evening rose a cloud of dust
From the wood thitherward; our vanguard fled
Into the camp, and sounded the alarm.
Scarce had we mounted ere the Pappenheimers,
Their horses at full speed, broke through the lines,
And leapt the trenches; but their heedless courage
Had borne them onward far before the others--
The infantry were still at distance, only
The Pappenheimers follow'd daringly
Their daring leader--
[THEKLA _betrays agitation in her gestures. The officer
pauses till she makes a sign to him to proceed_.]
CAPTAIN.
Both in van and flanks
With our whole cavalry we now received them;
Back to the trenches drove them, where the foot
Stretch'd out a solid ridge of pikes to meet them.
They neither could advance, nor yet retreat;
And as they stood on every side wedged in,
The Rhinegrave to their leader call'd aloud,
Inviting a surrender; but their leader,
Young Piccolomini--
[THEKLA, _as giddy, grasps a chair_.]
Known by his plume,
And his long hair, gave signal for the trenches;
Himself leapt first: the regiment all plunged after.
His charger, by a halbert gored, rear'd up,
Flung him with violence off, and over him
The horses, now no longer to be curbed--
[THEKLA, _who has accompanied the last speech_ _with all the
marks of increasing agony_, _trembles through her whole
frame, and is_ _falling. The_ LADY NEUBRUNN _runs to her_,
_and receives her in her arms.]_
NEUBR.
My dearest lady--
CAPTAIN.
I retire.
THEKLA.
'Tis over.
Proceed to the conclusion.
CAPTAIN.
Wild despair
Inspired the troops with frenzy when they saw
Their leader perish; every thought of rescue
Was spurned; they fought like wounded tigers; their
Frantic resistance roused our soldiery;
A murderous fight took place, nor was the contest
Finish'd before their last man fell.
THEKLA (_faltering_).
And where--
Where is--You have not told me all.
CAPTAIN _(after a pause_).
This morning
We buried him. Twelve youths of noblest birth
Did bear him to interment; the whole army
Follow'd the bier. A laurel deck'd his coffin;
The sword of the deceased was placed upon it,
In mark of honor, by the Rhinegrave's self.
Nor tears were wanting; for there are among us
Many, who had themselves experienced
The greatness of his mind and gentle manners;
All were affected at his fate. The Rhinegrave
Would willingly have saved him; but himself
Made vain the attempt--'tis said he wish'd to
die.
NEUBRUNN _(to_ THEKLA, _who has hidden her countenance_).
Look up, my dearest lady--
THEKLA.
Where is his grave?
CAPTAIN.
At Neustadt, lady; in a cloister church
Are his remains deposited, until
We can receive directions from his father.
THEKLA.
What is the cloister's name?
CAPTAIN.
Saint Catherine's.
THEKLA.
And how far is it thither?
CAPTAIN.
Near twelve leagues.
THEKLA.
And which the way?
CAPTAIN.
You go by Tirschenreut
And Falkenberg through our advanced posts.
THEKLA.
Who
Is their commander?
CAPTAIN.
Colonel Seckendorf.
[THEKLA _steps to the table, and takes a ring from a
casket.]_
THEKLA.
You have beheld me in my agony,
And shown a feeling heart. Please you, accept
_[Giving him the ring_.]
A small memorial of this hour. Now go!
CAPTAIN _(confusedly)._
Princess--
[THEKLA _silently makes signs to him to go, and turns from
him. The_ CAPTAIN _lingers, and is about to speak_. LADY
NEUBRUNN _repeats the signal, and he retires.]_
SCENE XI
THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN
THEKLA _(falls on_ LADY NEUBRUNN's _neck_).
Now, gentle Neubrunn, show me the affection
Which thou hast ever promised--prove thyself
My own true friend and faithful fellow-pilgrim.
This night we must away!
NEUBRUNN.
Away! and whither?
THEKLA.
Whither! There is but one place in the world.
Thither, where he lies buried! To his coffin!
NEUBR.
What would you do there?
THEKLA.
What do there?
That wouldst thou not have ask'd, hadst thou e'er loved.
There, there is all that still remains of him!
That single spot is the whole earth to me.
NEUBR.
That place of death--
THEKLA.
Is now the only place
Where life yet dwells for me: detain me not!
Come and make preparations; let us think
Of means to fly from hence.
NEUBRUNN.
Your father's rage--
THEKLA.
That time is past--
And now I fear no human being's rage.
NEUBR.
The sentence of the world! The tongue of
calumny!
THEKLA.
Whom am I seeking? Him who is no more?
Am I then hastening to the arms--O God!
I haste but to the grave of the beloved.
NEUBR.
And we alone, two helpless feeble women?
THEKLA.
We will take weapons: my arm shall protect
thee.
NEUBR.
In the dark night-time?
THEKLA.
Darkness will conceal us.
NEUBR.
This rough tempestuous night--
THEKLA.
Had he a soft bed
Under the hoofs of his war-horses?
NEUBRUNN.
Heaven!
And then the many posts of the enemy.
THEKLA.
They are human beings. Misery travels free
Through the whole earth.
NEUBRUNN.
The journey's weary length--
THEKLA.
The pilgrim, traveling to a distant shrine
Of hope and healing, doth not count the leagues.
NEUBR.
How can we pass the gates?
THEKLA.
Gold opens them.
Go, do but go.
NEUBRUNN.
Should we be recognized--
THEKLA.
In a despairing woman, a poor fugitive,
Will no one seek the daughter of Duke Friedland.
NEUBR.
And where procure we horses for our flight?
THEKLA.
My equerry procures them. Go and fetch him.
NEUBR.
Dares he, without the knowledge of his lord?
THEKLA.
He will. Go, only go. Delay no longer.
NEUBR.
Dear lady! and your mother?
THEKLA.
Oh! my mother!
NEUBR.
So much as she has suffer'd too already;
Your tender mother--Ah! how ill prepared
For this last anguish!
THEKLA.
Woe is me! my mother!
_[Pauses.]_
Go instantly.
NEUBRUNN.
But think what you are doing!
THEKLA.
What _can_ be thought, already has been thought.
NEUBR.
And being there, what purpose you to do?
THEKLA.
There a Divinity will prompt my soul.
NEUBR.
Your heart, dear lady, is disquieted!
And this is not the way that leads to quiet.
THEKLA.
To a deep quiet, such as he has found.
It draws me on, I know not what to name it,
Resistless does it draw me to his grave.
There will my heart be eased, my tears will flow.
O hasten, make no further questioning!
There is no rest for me till I have left
These walls--they fall in on me--a dim power
Drives me from hence--Oh mercy! What a feeling!
What pale and hollow forms are those! They fill,
They crowd the place! I have no longer room here!
Mercy! Still more! More still! The hideous swarm,
They press on me; they chase me from these walls--
Those hollow, bodiless forms of living men!
NEUBR.
You frighten me so, lady, that no longer
I dare stay here myself. I go and call
Rosenberg instantly. [Exit LADY NEUBRUNN.]
SCENE XII
THEKLA.
His spirit 'tis that calls me: 'tis the troop
Of his true followers, who offer'd up
Themselves to avenge his death: and they accuse me
Of an ignoble loitering--_they_ would not
Forsake their leader even in his death--_they_ died for him,
And shall I live?--
For me too was that laurel-garland twined
That decks his bier. Life is an empty casket.
I throw it from me. O! my only hope
To die beneath the hoofs of trampling steeds--
That is the lot of heroes upon earth!
[_Exit_ THEKLA.[33]]
[_The Curtain drops._]
SCENE XIII
THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN, _and_ ROSENBERG
NEUBR.
He is here lady, and he will procure them.
THEKLA.
Wilt thou provide us horses, Rosenberg?
ROSENB.
I will, my lady.
THEKLA.
And go with us as well?
ROSENB.
To the world's end, my lady.
THEKLA.
But consider,
Thou never canst return unto the Duke.
ROSENB.
I will remain with thee.
THEKLA.
I will reward thee,
And will commend thee to another master,
Canst thou unseen conduct us from the castle?
ROSENB.
I can.
THEKLA.
When can I go?
ROSENBERG.
This very hour.
But wither would you, Lady?
THEKLA.
To--Tell him, Neubrunn.
NEUBR.
To Neustadt.
ROSENBERG.
So;--I leave you to get ready.
[_Exit._]
NEUBR.
O see, your mother comes.
THEKLA.
Indeed! O Heav'n!
SCENE XIV
THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN, _the_ DUCHESS
DUCHESS.
He's gone! I find thee more composed, my child.
THEKLA.
I am so, mother; let me only now
Retire to rest, and Neubrunn here be with me.
I want repose.
DUCHESS.
My Thekla, thou shalt have it.
I leave thee now consoled, since I can calm
Thy father's heart.
THEKLA.
Good night, beloved mother!
_(Falling on her neck and embracing her with deep emotion_).
DUCHESS.
Thou scarcely art composed e'en now, my daughter.
Thou tremblest strongly, and I feel thy heart
Beat audibly on mine.
THEKLA. Sleep will appease
Its beating: now good night, good night, dear mother.
_(As she withdraws from her mother's arms the curtain
falls_).
ACT V
SCENE I
_Butler's Chamber_.
BUTLER _and_ MAJOR GERALDIN
BUTLER.
Find me twelve strong dragoons, arm them with pikes,
For there must be no firing--
Conceal them somewhere near the banquet-room,
And soon as the dessert is served up, rush all in
And cry--"Who is loyal to the Emperor!"
I will overturn the table--while you attack
Illo and Terzky and dispatch them both.
The castle-palace is well barr'd and guarded,
That no intelligence of this proceeding
May make its way to the Duke. Go instantly;
Have you yet sent for Captain Devereux
And the Macdonald?--
GERALDIN.
They'll be here anon.
[_Exit_ GERALDIN.]
BUTLER.
Here's no room for delay. The citizens
Declare for him, a dizzy drunken spirit
Possesses the whole town. They see in the Duke
A Prince of peace, a founder of new ages
And golden times. Arms too have been given out
By the town-council, and a hundred citizens
Have volunteered themselves to stand on guard.
Dispatch! then, be the word; for enemies
Threaten us from without and from within.
SCENE II
BUTLER, CAPTAIN DEVEREUX, _and_ MACDONALD
MACDON.
Here we are, General.
DEVEREUX.
What's to be the watchword?
BUTLER.
Long live the Emperor!
BOTH _(recoiling)._
How?
BUTLER.
Live the House of Austria.
DEVEREUX.
Have we not sworn fidelity to Friedland?
MACDON.
Have we not march'd to this place to protect him?
BUTLER.
Protect a traitor, and his country's enemy?
DEVEREUX.
Why, yes! in his name you administer'd
Our oath.
MACDONALD.
And follow'd him yourself to Egra.
BUTLER.
I did it the more surely to destroy him.
DEVEREUX.
So then!
MACDONALD.
An alter'd case!
BUTLER (_to_ DEVEREUX).
Thou wretched man,
So easily leavest thou thy oath and colors?
DEVEREUX.
The devil!--I but follow'd your example,
If you could prove a villain, why not we?
MACDON.
We've nought to do with _thinking_--that's your business.
You are our General, and give out the orders;
We follow you, though the track lead to hell.
BUTLER _(appeased)_.
Good then! we know each other.
MACDONALD.
I should hope so.
DEVEREUX.
Soldiers of fortune are we--who bids most,
He has us.
MACDONALD.
'Tis e'en so!
BUTLER.
Well, for the present
Ye must remain honest and faithful soldiers.
DEVEREUX.
We wish no other.
BUTLER.
Ay, and make your fortunes.
MACRON.
That is still better.
Listen!
BOTH.
We attend.
BUTLER.
It is the Emperor's will and ordinance
To seize the person of the Prince-Duke Friedland,
Alive or dead.
DEVEREUX.
It runs so in the letter.
MACRON.
Alive or dead-these were the very words.
BUTLER.
And he shall be rewarded from the State
In land and gold, who proffers aid thereto.
DEVEREUX.
Ay! that sounds well. The _words_ sound always well
That travel hither from the Court. Yes! yes!
We know already what Court-words import.
A golden chain perhaps in sign of favor,
Or an old charger, or a parchment patent,
And such like--The Prince-Duke pays better.
MACDONALD.
Yes
The Duke's a splendid paymaster.
BUTLER.
All over
With that, my friends! His lucky stars are set.
MACDON.
And is that certain?
BUTLER.
You have my word for it.
DEVEREUX.
His lucky fortunes all past by?
BUTLER.
Forever
He is as poor as we.
MACDONALD.
As poor as we?
DEVEREUX.
Macdonald, we'll desert him.
BUTLER.
We'll desert him?
Full twenty thousand have done that already;
We must do more, my countrymen! In short--
We--we must kill him.
BOTH _(starting back_).
Kill him!
BUTLER.
Yes, must kill him;
And for that purpose have I chosen you.
BOTH.
Us!
BUTLER.
You, Captain Devereux, and thee, Macdonald.
DEVEREUX _(after a pause)_.
Choose you some other.
BUTLER.
What! art dastardly?
Thou, with full thirty lives to answer for--
Thou conscientious of a sudden?
DEVEREUX.
Nay
To assassinate our Lord and General--
MACDON.
To whom we've sworn a soldier's oath
BUTLER.
The oath
Is null, for Friedland is a traitor.
DEVEREUX.
No, no! it is too bad!
MACDONALD.
Yes, by my soul!
It is too bad. One has a conscience too--
DEVEREUX.
If it were not our Chieftain, who so long
Has issued the commands, and claim'd our duty--
BUTLER.
Is that the objection?
DEVEREUX.
Were it my own father,
And the Emperor's service should demand it of me,
It might be done perhaps--But we are soldiers,
And to assassinate our Chief Commander--
That is a sin, a foul abomination,
From which no monk or confessor absolves us.
BUTLER.
I am your Pope, and give you absolution.
Determine quickly!
DEVEREUX.
'Twill not do.
MACDONALD.
'Twont do!
BUTLER.
Well, off then! and--send Pestalutz to me.
DEVEREUX _(hesitates)._
The Pestalutz--
MACDONALD.
What may you want with him?
BUTLER.
If you reject it, we can find enough--
DEVEREUX.
Nay, if he must fall, we may earn the bounty
As well as any other. What think you,
Brother Macdonald?
MACDONALD.
Why, if he must fall,
And will fall, and it can't be otherwise,
One would not give place to this Pestalutz.
DEVEREUX _(after some reflection)_.
When do you purpose he should fall?
BUTLER.
This night.
Tomorrow will the Swedes be at our gates.
DEVEREUX.
You take upon you all the consequences
BUTLER.
I take the whole upon me.
DEVEREUX.
And it is
The Emperor's will, his express absolute will?
For we have instances, that folks may like
The murder, and yet hang the murderer.
BUTLER.
The manifesto says--"alive or dead."
Alive--'tis not possible--you see it is not.
DEVEREUX.
Well, dead then! dead! But how can we come at him?
The town is filled with Terzky's soldiery.
MACDON.
Ay! and then Terzky still remains, and Illo--
BUTLER.
With these you shall begin--you understand me?
DEVEREUX.
How! And must they too perish?
BUTLER.
They the first.
MACDON.
Hear, Devereux! A bloody evening this.
DEVEREUX.
Have you a man for that? Commission me--
BUTLER.
'Tis given in trust to Major Geraldin;
This is a carnival night, and there's a feast
Given at the castle--there we shall surprise them,
And hew them down. The Pestalutz and Lesley
Have that commission. Soon as that is finish'd--
DEVEREUX.
Hear, General! It will be all one to you--
Hark ye, let me exchange with Geraldin.
BUTLER.
'Twill be the lesser danger with the Duke.
DEVEREUX.
Danger! The Devil! What do you think me, General?
'Tis the Duke's eye, and not his sword, I fear.
BUTLER.
What can his eye do to thee?
DEVEREUX.
Death and hell!
Thou know'st that I'm no milksop, General!
But 'tis not eight days since the Duke did send me
Twenty gold pieces for this good warm coat
Which I have on! and then for him to see me
Standing before him with the pike, his murderer,
That eye of his looking upon this coat--
Why--why--the devil fetch me! I'm no milksop!
BUTLER.
The Duke presented thee this good warm coat,
And thou, a needy wight, hast pangs of conscience
To run him through the body in return?
A coat that is far better and far warmer
Did the Emperor give to him, the Prince's mantle.
How doth he thank the Emperor? With revolt,
And treason.
DEVEREUX.
That is true. The devil take
Such thinkers! I'll dispatch him.
BUTLER.
And would'st quiet
Thy conscience, thou hast nought to do but simply
Pull off the coat; so canst thou do the deed
With light heart and good spirits.
DEVEREUX.
You are right,
That did not strike me. I'll pull off the coat--
So there's an end of it.
MACDONALD.
Yes, but there's another
Point to be thought of.
BUTLER.
And what's that, Macdonald?
MACDON.
What avails sword or dagger against _him?_
He is not to be wounded--he is--
BUTLER (_starting up_).
What?
MACDON.
Safe against shot, and stab, and flesh! Hard frozen,
Secured and warranted by the black art!
His body is impenetrable, I tell you.
DEVEREUX.
In Ingolstadt there was just such another:
His whole skin was the same as steel; at last
We were obliged to beat him down with gun-stocks.
MACDON.
Hear what I'll do.
DEVEREUX.
Well.
MACDONALD.
In the cloister here
There's a Dominican, my countryman.
I'll make him dip my sword and pike for me
In holy water, and say over them
One of his strongest blessings. That's probatum!
Nothing can stand 'gainst that.
BUTLER.
So do, Macdonald!
But now go and select from out the regiment
Twenty or thirty able-bodied fellows,
And let them take the oaths to the Emperor.
Then when it strikes eleven, when the first rounds
Are pass'd, conduct them silently as may be
To the house--I will myself be not far off.
DEVEREUX.
But how do we get through Hartschier and Gordon,
That stand on guard there in the inner chamber?
BUTLER.
I have made myself acquainted with the place,
I lead you through a back door that's defended
By one man only. Me my rank and office
Give access to the Duke at every hour.
I'll go before you--with one poniard-stroke
Cut Hartschier's windpipe, and make way for you.
DEVEREUX.
And when we are there, by what means shall we gain
The Duke's bed-chamber, without his alarming
The servants of the Court? For he has here
A numerous company of followers.
BUTLER.
The attendants fill the right wing: he hates bustle,
And lodges in the left wing quite alone.
DEVEREUX.
Were it well over--hey, Macdonald? I
Feel queerly on the occasion, devil knows!
MACDON.
And I too. 'Tis too great a personage.
People will hold us for a brace of villains.
BUTLER.
In plenty, honor, splendor--you may safely
Laugh at the people's babble.
DEVEREUX.
If the business
Squares with one's honor--if that be quite certain--
BUTLER.
Set your hearts quite at ease. Ye save for Ferdinand
His crown and empire. The reward can be
No small one.
DEVEREUX.
And 'tis his purpose to dethrone the Emperor?
BUTLER.
Yes!--Yes!--to rob him of his crown and life.
DEVEREUX.
And he must fall by the executioner's hands,
Should we deliver him up to the Emperor
Alive?
BUTLER.
It were his certain destiny.
DEVEREUX.
Well! Well! Come then, Macdonald, he shall not
Lie long in pain.
[_Exeunt_ BUTLER _through one door_, MACDONALD _and_
DEVEREUX _through the other_.]
SCENE III
_A Saloon, terminated by a Gallery which extends far into
the background_.
WALLENSTEIN _Sitting at a table. The_ SWEDISH CAPTAIN
_standing before him_.
WALLENST.
Commend me to your lord. I sympathize
In his good fortune; and if you have seen me
Deficient in the expressions; of that joy,
Which such a victory might well demand,
Attribute it to no lack of good will,
For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell,
And for your trouble take my thanks. Tomorrow
The citadel shall be surrendered to you
On your arrival.
[_The_ SWEDISH CAPTAIN _retires_. WALLENSTEIN _sits lost in
thought, his eyes fixed vacantly, and his head sustained by
his hand. The_ COUNTESS TERZKY _enters, stands before him
for awhile, unobserved by him; at length he starts, sees her
and recollects himself_.]
WALLENST.
Comest thou from her? Is she restored? How
is she?
COUNTESS.
My sister tells me, she was more collected
After her conversation with the Swede.
She has now retired to rest.
WALLENSTEIN.
The pang will soften;
She will shed tears.
COUNTESS.
I find thee alter'd too,
My brother! After such a victory
I had expected to have found in thee
A cheerful spirit. O remain _thou_ firm!
Sustain, uphold us! For our light thou art,
Our sun.
WALLENSTEIN.
Be quiet. I ail nothing. Where's
Thy husband?
COUNTESS.
At a banquet--he and Illo.
WALLENSTEIN _(rises and strides across the saloon)_.
The night's far spent. Betake thee to thy
chamber.
COUNTESS.
Bid me not go, O let me stay with thee!
WALLENSTEIN _(moves to the window)_.
There is a busy motion in the Heaven,
The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower,
Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle[34] of the moon,
Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light;
No form of star is visible! That one
White stain of light, that single glimmering yonder,
Is from Cassiopeia, and therein
Is Jupiter.
(_A pause_).
But now
The blackness of the troubled element hides him!
[_He sinks into profound melancholy, and looks
vacantly into the distance_.]
COUNTESS (_looks on him mournfully, then grasps his hand_).
What art thou brooding on?
WALLENSTEIN.
Methinks,
If I but saw him, 'twould be well with me.
He is the star of my nativity,
And often marvelously hath his aspect
Shot strength into my heart.
COUNTESS.
Thou'lt see him again.
WALLENSTEIN _(remains for a while, with, absent mind, then
assumes a livelier manner, and turning suddenly to the_
COUNTESS).
See him again? O never, never again!
COUNTESS.
How?
WALLENSTEIN.
He is gone--is dust.
COUNTESS.
Whom meanest thou, then?
WALLENST.
He, the more fortunate! yea, he hath finish'd!
For him there is no longer any future,
His life is bright--bright without spot it _was_,
And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour
Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap;
Far off is he, above desire and fear;
No more submitted to the change and chance
Of the unsteady planets. O 'tis well
With him! but who knows what the coming hour
Veil'd in thick darkness brings for us?
COUNTESS.
Thou speakest
Of Piccolomini. What was his death?
The courier had just left thee as I came.
[WALLENSTEIN _by a motion of his hand makes signs to her to
be silent._]
Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view,
Let us look forward into sunny days,
Welcome with joyous heart the victory,
Forget what it has cost thee. Not today,
For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead;
To thee he died, when first he parted from thee.
WALLENST.
This anguish will be wearied down,[35] I know;
What pang is permanent with man? From the highest,
As from the vilest thing of every day,
He learns to wean himself: for the strong hours
Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost
In him. The bloom is vanish'd from my life;
For O! he stood beside me, like my youth,
Transform'd for me the real to a dream,
Clothing the palpable and the familiar
With golden exhalations of the dawn.
Whatever fortunes wait my future toils,
The _beautiful_ is vanish'd--and returns not.
COUNTESS.
O be not treacherous to thy own power.
Thy heart is rich enough to vivify
Itself. Thou lovest and prizest virtues in him,
The which thyself didst plant, thyself unfold.
WALLENSTEIN _(stepping to the door_).
Who interrupts us now at this late hour?
It is the Governor. He brings the keys
Of the Citadel. 'Tis midnight. Leave me, sister!
COUNTESS.
O 'tis so hard to me this night to leave thee--
A boding fear possesses me!
WALLENSTEIN.
Fear! Wherefore?
COUNTESS.
Shouldst thou depart this night, and we at waking
Never more find thee!
WALLENSTEIN.
Fancies!
COUNTESS.
O my soul
Has long been weigh'd down by these dark fore-bodings,
And if I combat and repel them waking,
They will crush down upon my heart in dreams.
I saw thee yesternight with thy first wife
Sit at a banquet, gorgeously attired.
WALLENST.
This was a dream of favorable omen,
That marriage being the founder of my fortunes.
COUNTESS.
Today I dreamt that I was seeking thee
In thy own chamber. As I enter'd, lo!
It was no more a chamber: the Chartreuse
At Gitschin 'twas, which thou thyself hast founded,
And where it is thy will that thou should'st be
Interr'd.
WALLENSTEIN.
Thy soul is busy with these thoughts.
COUNTESS.
What! dost thou not believe that oft in dreams
A voice of warning speaks prophetic to us?
WALTENST.
There is no doubt that there exist such voices;
Yet I would not call _them_
Voices of warning that announce to us
Only the inevitable. As the sun,
Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image
In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits
Of great events stride on before the events,
And in today already walks tomorrow.
That which we read of the fourth Henry's death
Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale
Of my own future destiny. The king
Felt in his breast the phantom of the knife,
Long ere Ravaillac arm'd himself therewith.
His quiet mind forsook him: the phantasma
Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth
Into the open air: like funeral knells
Sounded that coronation festival;
And still with boding sense he heard the tread
Of those feet that even then were seeking him
Throughout the streets of Paris.
COUNTESS.
And to _thee_
The voice within thy soul bodes nothing?
WALLENSTEIN.
Nothing.
Be wholly tranquil.
COUNTESS.
And another time
I hasten'd after thee, and thou ran'st from me
Through a long suite, through many a spacious hall.
There seem'd no end of it: doors creak'd and clapp'd;
I follow'd panting, but could not o'ertake thee;
When on a sudden did I feel myself
Grasp'd from behind--the hand was cold that grasped me--
'Twas thou, and thou didst kiss me, and there seem'd
A crimson covering to envelop us.
WALLENST. That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber.
COUNTESS _(gazing on him)._
If it should come to that--if I should see thee,
Who standest now before me in the fulness
Of life--
_[She falls on his breast and weeps_.]
WALLENST.
The Emperor's proclamation weighs upon thee--
Alphabets wound not--and he finds no hands.
COUNTESS.
If he _should_ find them, my resolve is taken--
I bear about me my support and refuge.
[_Exit_ COUNTESS.]
SCENE IV
WALLENSTEIN, GORDON
WALLENST.
All quiet in the town?
GORDON.
The town is quiet.
WALLENST.
I hear a boisterous music! and the Castle
Is lighted up. Who are the revellers?
GORDON.
There is a banquet given at the Castle
To the Count Terzky and Field Marshal Illo.
WALLENST.
In honor of the victory--This tribe
Can show their joy in nothing else but feasting.
[_Rings. The_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _enters_.]
Unrobe me. I will lay me down to sleep.
[WALLENSTEIN _takes the keys from_ GORDON.]
So we are guarded from all enemies,
And shut in with sure friends;
For all must cheat me, or a face like this
[_Fixing his eye on_ GORDON.]
Was ne'er a hypocrite's mask.
[_The_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _takes off his mantle, collar,
and scarf._]
WALLENSTEIN.
Take care--what is that?
GROOM OF THE CHAMBER.
The golden chain is snapped in two.
WALLENST.
Well, it has lasted long enough. Here--give it.
[_He takes and looks at the chain_.]
'Twas the first present of the Emperor.
He hung it round me in the war of Friule,
He being then Archduke; and I have worn it
Till now from habit--
From superstition, if you will. Belike,
It was to be a talisman to me;
And while I wore it on my neck in faith,
It was to chain to me all my life long
The volatile fortune, whose first pledge it was--
Well, be it so! Henceforward a new fortune
Must spring up for me; for the potency
Of this charm is dissolved.
[GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _retires with the vestments._
WALLENSTEIN _rises, takes a stride across the room, and
stands at last before_ GORDON _in a posture of meditation_.]
How the old time returns upon me! I
Behold myself once more at Burgau, where
We two were Pages of the Court together.
We oftentimes disputed: thy intention
Was ever good; but thou wert wont to play
The Moralist and Preacher, and wouldst rail at me--
That I strove after things too high for me,
Giving my faith to bold unlawful dreams,
And still extol to me the golden mean--
Thy wisdom hath been proved a thriftless friend
To thy own self. See, it has made thee early
A superannuated man, and (but
That my munificent stars will intervene)
Would let thee in some miserable corner
Go out like an untended lamp.
GORDON.
My Prince!
With light heart the poor fisher moors his boat,
And watches from the shore the lofty ship
Stranded amid the storm.
WALLENSTEIN.
Art thou already
In harbor then, old man? Well! I am not.
The unconquer'd spirit drives me o'er life's billows;
My planks still firm, my canvas swelling proudly.
Hope is my goddess still, and Youth my inmate;
And while we stand thus front to front almost
I might presume to say that the swift years
Have passed by powerless o'er my unblanched
hair.
_[He moves with long strides across the Saloon,
and remains on the opposite side over
against_ GORDON.]
Who now persists in calling Fortune false?
To me she has proved faithful; with fond love
Took me from out the common ranks of men,
And like a mother goddess, with strong arm
Carried me swiftly up the steps of life.
Nothing is common in my destiny,
Nor in the furrows of my hand. Who dares
Interpret then my life for me as 'twere
One of the undistinguishable many?
True, in this present moment I appear
Fallen low indeed; but I shall rise again.
The high flood will soon follow on this ebb;
The fountain of my fortune, which now stops
Repress'd and bound by some malicious star,
Will soon in joy play forth from all its pipes.
GORDON.
And yet remember I the good old proverb,
"Let the night come before we praise the day."
I would be slow from long-continued fortune
To gather hope: for Hope is the companion
Given to the unfortunate by pitying Heaven.
Fear hovers round the head of prosperous men;
For still unsteady are the scales of fate.
WALLENSTEIN _(smiling_).
I hear the very Gordon that of old
Was wont to preach, now once more preaching;
I know well that all sublunary things
Are still the vassals of vicissitude.
The unpropitious gods demand their tribute;
This long ago the ancient Pagans knew:
And therefore of their own accord they offer'd
To themselves injuries, so to atone
The jealousy of their divinities:
And human sacrifices bled to Typhon.
[_After a pause, serious, and in a more subdued manner._]
I too have sacrificed to him--For me
There fell the dearest friend, and through my fault
He fell! No joy from favorable fortune
Can overweight the anguish of this stroke.
The envy of my destiny is glutted
Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightning
Was drawn off which would else have shatter'd _me_.
SCENE V
_To these enter_ SENI
WALLENST.
Is not that Seni! and beside himself,
If one may trust his looks? What brings thee hither
At this late hour, Baptista?
SENI.
Terror, Duke!
On thy account.
WALLENSTEIN.
What now?
SENI.
Flee ere the day break!
Trust not thy person to the Swedes!
WALLENSTEIN.
What now
Is in thy thoughts?
SENI (_with louder voice_).
Trust not thy person to the Swedes.
WALLENSTEIN.
What is it, then?
SENI (_still more urgently_).
O wait not the arrival of these Swedes!
An evil near at hand is threatening thee
From false friends. All the signs stand full of horror!
Near, near at hand the net-work of perdition--
Yea, even now 'tis being cast around thee!
WALLENST.
Baptista, thou art dreaming!--Fear befools thee.
SENI.
Believe not that an empty fear deludes me.
Come, read it in the planetary aspects;
Read it thyself that ruin threatens thee
From false friends.
WALLENSTEIN.
From the falseness of my friends
Has risen the whole of my unprosperous fortunes.
The warning should have come before! At present
I need no revelation from the stars
To know that.
SENI.
Come and see! trust thine own eyes!
A fearful sign stands in the house of life--
An enemy; a fiend lurks close behind
The radiance of thy planet.--O be warn'd!
Deliver not up thyself to these heathens,
To wage a war against our holy church.
WALLENSTEIN (_laughing gently_).
The oracle rails that way! Yes, yes! Now
I recollect. This junction with the Swedes
Did never please thee--lay thyself to sleep,
Baptista! Signs like these I do not fear.
GORDON (_who during the whole of this dialogue has shown
marks of extreme agitation, and now turns to_ WALLENSTEIN).
My Duke and General! May I dare presume?
WALLENST.
Speak freely.
[Illustration: WALLENSTEIN WARNED BY HIS FRIENDS
As performed at the Municipal Theatre, Hamburg, 1906]
GORDON.
What if 'twere no mere creation
Of fear, if God's high providence vouchsafed
To interpose its aid for your deliverance,
And made that mouth its organ?
WALLENSTEIN.
Ye're both feverish!
How can mishap come to me from the Swedes!
They sought this junction with me--'tis their
interest.
GORDON _(with difficulty suppressing his emotion)_.
But what if the arrival of these Swedes--
What if this were the very thing that wing'd
The ruin that is flying to your temples?
[_Flings himself at his feet_.]
There is yet time, my Prince.
SENI.
O hear him! hear him!
GORDON _(rises)_.
The Rhinegrave's still far off. Give but the orders,
This citadel shall close its gates upon him.
If then he will besiege us, let him try it.
But this I say; he'll find his own destruction
With his whole force before these ramparts, sooner
Than weary down the valor of our spirit.
He shall experience what a band of heroes,
Inspirited by an heroic leader,
Is able to perform. And if indeed
It be thy serious wish to make amend
For that which thou hast done amiss--this, this
Will touch and reconcile the Emperor,
Who gladly turns his heart to thoughts of mercy
And Friedland, who returns repentant to him,
Will stand yet higher in his Emperor's favor
Than e'er he stood when he had never fallen.
WALLENSTEIN (_contemplates him with surprise, remains
awhile, betraying strong emotion_).
Gordon--your zeal and fervor lead you far.
Well, well--an old friend has a privilege.
Blood, Gordon, has been flowing. Never, never
Can the Emperor pardon me; and if he could,
Yet I--I never could let myself be pardon'd.
Had I foreknown what now has taken place,
That he, my dearest friend, would fall for me
My first death-offering; and had the heart
Spoken to me, as now it has done--Gordon,
It may be, I might have bethought myself;
It may be too, I might not. Might or might not
Is now an idle question. All too seriously
Has it begun to end in nothing, Gordon!
Let it then have its course.
[_Stepping to the window._]
All dark and silent-at the castle too
All is now hush'd--Light me, Chamberlain!
[_The_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER, _who had entered during the
last dialogue, and had been standing at a distance and
listening to it with visible expressions of the deepest
interest, advances in extreme agitation, and throws himself
at the_ DUKE'S _feet._]
And thou too! But I know why thou dost wish
My reconcilement with the Emperor.
Poor man! he hath a small estate in Carinthia,
And fears it will be forfeited because
He's in my service. Am I then so poor
That I no longer can indemnify
My servants? Well! to no one I employ
Means of compulsion. If 'tis thy belief
That fortune has fled from me, go! forsake me.
This night for the last time mayst thou unrobe me,
And then go over to thy Emperor.
Gordon, good night! I think to make a long
Sleep of it: for the struggle and the turmoil
Of this last day or two was great. May't please you!
Take care that they awake me not too early.
[_Exit_ WALLENSTEIN, _the_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _lighting
him_.SENI _follows_, GORDON _remains on the darkened stage,
following the_ DUKE _with his eye, till he disappears at the
farther end of the gallery: then by his gestures the old man
expresses the depth of his anguish and stands leaning
against a pillar._]
SCENE VI
GORDON, BUTLER (_at first behind the scenes_)
BUTLER (_not yet come into view of the stage_).
Here stand in silence till I give the signal.
GORDON (_starts up_).
'Tis he! he has already brought the murderers.
BUTLER.
The lights are out. All lies in profound sleep.
GORDON. What shall I do? Shall I attempt to save him?
Shall I call up the house? alarm the guards?
BUTLER (_appears, but scarcely on the stage_).
A light gleams hither from the corridor.
It leads directly to the Duke's bed-chamber.
GORDON.
But then I break my oath to the Emperor;
If he escape and strengthen the enemy,
Do I not hereby call down on my head
All the dread consequences?
BUTLER (_stepping forward_).
Hark! Who speaks there?
GORDON.
'Tis better, I resign it to the hands
Of Providence. For what am I, that I
Should take upon myself so great a deed?
I have not murdered him, if he be murder'd;
But all his rescue were _my_ act and deed;
_Mine_--and whatever be the consequences,
I must sustain them.
BUTLER (_advances_).
I should know that voice.
GORDON.
Butler!
BUTLER.
'Tis Gordon. What do _you_ want here?
Was it so late then, when the Duke dismiss'd you?
GORDON.
Your hand bound up and in a scarf?
BUTLER.
'Tis wounded.
That Illo fought as he were frantic, till
At last we threw him on the ground.
GORDON (_shuddering_). Both dead?
BUTLER.
Is he in bed?
GORDON.
Ah, Butler!
BUTLER.
Is he? speak.
GORDON.
He shall _not_ perish! Not through you! The Heaven
Refuses _your_ arm. See--'tis wounded!--
BUTLER.
There is no need of my arm.
GORDON.
The most guilty
Have perish'd, and enough is given to justice.
[_The_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _advances from the Gallery with
his finger on his mouth commanding silence_.]
GORDON.
He sleeps! O murder not the holy sleep!
BUTLER.
No! he shall die awake.
[_Is going_.]
GORDON.