The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 03

What? shall this town become a field of slaughter,

And brother-killing Discord, fire-eyed,

Be let loose through its streets to roam and rage?

Shall the decision be deliver'd over

To deaf remorseless Rage, that hears no leader?

Here is not room for battle, only for butchery.

Well, let it be! I have long thought of it,

So let it burst them!

[Turns to MAX.]

                      Well, how is it with thee?

Wilt thou attempt a heat with me? Away!

Thou art free to go. Oppose thyself to me,

Front against front, and lead them to the battle;

Thou'rt skill'd in war, thou hast learn'd somewhat under me,

I need not be ashamed of my opponent,

And never hadst thou fairer opportunity

To pay me for thy schooling.

COUNTESS.

                                Is it then,

Can it have come to this?—What! Cousin, cousin!

Have you the heart?

MAX.

The regiments that are trusted to my care

I have pledged my troth to bring away from Pilsen

True to the Emperor; and this promise will I

Make good, or perish. More than this no duty

Requires of me. I will not fight against thee,

Unless compell'd; for though an enemy,

Thy head is holy to me still.

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

WALLENST.

What's that?

TERZKY.

He falls.

WALLENSTEIN.

Falls! Who?

ILLO.

                             Tiefenbach's corps

Discharged the ordnance.

WALLENSTEIN.

Upon whom?

ILLO.

                           On Neumann,

Your messenger.

WALLENSTEIN (starting up).

Ha! Death and hell! I will—

TERZKY.

Expose thyself to their blind frenzy?

DUCHESS and COUNTESS.

                             No!

For God's sake, no!

ILLO.

             Not yet, my General

O hold him! hold him!

WALLENSTEIN.

Leave me.

MAX.

                     Do it not;

Not yet! This rash and bloody deed has thrown them

Into a frenzy-fit—allow them time—

WALLENST.

Away! too long already have I loiter'd.

They are emboldened to these outrages,

Beholding not my face. They shall behold

My countenance, shall hear my voice—

Are they not my troops? Am I not their General,

And their long-fear'd commander? Let me see

Whether indeed they do no longer know

That countenance, which was their sun in battle!

From the balcony (mark!) I show myself

To these rebellious forces, and at once

Revolt is mounded, and the high-swoln current

Shrinks back into the old bed of obedience.

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

SCENE XXI

COUNTESS, DUCHESS, MAX and THEKLA

COUNTESS (to the DUCHESS).

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

DUCHESS.

Hope! I have none!

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

                            This can I not endure.

With most determined soul did I come hither;

My purposed action seem'd unblamable

To my own conscience—and I must stand here

Like one abhorr'd, a hard inhuman being:

Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love!

Must see all whom I love in this sore anguish,

Whom I with one word can make happy—O!

My heart revolts within me, and two voices

Make themselves audible within my bosom.

My soul's benighted; I no longer can

Distinguish the right track. O, well and truly

Didst thou say, father, I relied too much

On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro—

know not what to do.

COUNTESS.

                       What! you know not?

Does not your own heart tell you? O! then I

Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor,

A frightful traitor to us—he has plotted

Against our General's life, has plunged us all

In misery—and you're his son! 'Tis yours

To make the amends—Make you the son's fidelity

Outweigh the father's treason, that the name

Of Piccolomini be not a proverb

Of infamy, a common form of cursing

To the posterity of Wallenstein.

MAX.

Where is that voice of truth which I dare follow!

It speaks no longer in my heart. We all

But utter what our passionate wishes dictate:

O that an angel would descend from heaven,

And scoop for me the right, the uncorrupted,

With a pure hand from the pure fount of Light!

[His eyes glance on THEKLA.]

What other angel seek I? To this heart,

To this unerring heart, will I submit it;

Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless

The happy man alone, averted ever

From the disquieted and guilty—canst thou

Still love me, if I stay? Say that thou canst,

And I am the Duke's—

COUNTESS.

Think, niece—

MAX.

                           Think, nothing, Thekla!

Speak what thou feelest.

COUNTESS.

Think upon your father.

MAX.

I did not question thee, as Friedland's daughter.

Thee, the beloved and the unerring god

Within thy heart, I question. What's at stake?

Not whether diadem of royalty

Be to be won or not—that mightst thou think on.

Thy friend, and his soul's quiet, are at stake:

The fortune of a thousand gallant men,

Who will all follow me; shall I forswear

My oath and duty to the Emperor?

Say, shall I send into Octavio's camp

The parricidal ball? For when the ball

Has left its cannon, and is on its flight,

It is no longer a dead instrument!

It lives, a spirit passes into it,

The avenging furies seize possession of it,

And with sure malice guide it the worst way.

THEIKLA.

O! Max—

MAX (interrupting her).

        Nay, not precipitately either, Thekla,

I understand thee. To thy noble heart

The hardest duty might appear the highest.

The human, not the great part, would I act

Even from my childhood to this present hour.

Think what the Duke has done—for me, how loved me

And think, too, how my father has repaid him.

O likewise the free lovely impulses

Of hospitality, the pious friend's

Faithful attachment, these, too, are a holy

Religion to the heart; and heavily

The shudderings of nature do avenge

Themselves on the barbarian that insults them.

Lay all upon the balance, all—then speak,

And let thy heart decide it.

THEKLA.

                         O, thy own

Hath long ago decided. Follow thou

Thy heart's first feeling—

COUNTESS.

Oh! ill-fated woman.

THEKLA.

Is it possible that that can be the right,

The which thy tender heart did not at first

Detect and seize with instant impulse? Go,

Fulfil thy duty! I should ever love thee

What'er thou hadst chosen, thou wouldst still have acted

Nobly and worthy of thee—but repentance

Shall ne'er disturb thy soul's fair peace.

MAX.

                             Then I

Must leave thee, must part from thee!

THEKLA.

                           Being faithful

To thine own self, thou art faithful, too, to me;

If our fates part, our hearts remain united.

A bloody hatred will divide forever

The houses Piccolomini and Friedland;

But we belong not to our houses. Go!

Quick! quick! and separate thy righteous cause

From our unholy and unblessèd one!

The curse of Heaven lies upon our head:

'Tis dedicate to ruin. Even me

My father's guilt drags with it to perdition.

Mourn not for me:

My destiny will quickly be decided.

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

SCENE XXII

To the above enter TERZKY

COUNTESS (meeting him).

What meant that cry? What was it?

TERZKY.

All is lost!

COUNTESS.

What! they regarded not his countenance?

TERZKY.

'Twas all in vain.

DUCHESS.

They shouted Vivat!—

TERZKY.

To the Emperor.

COUNTESS.

The traitors!

TERZIBY.

            Nay! he was not permitted

Even to address them. Soon as he began,

With deafening noise of warlike instruments

They drown'd his words. But here he comes.

SCENE XXIII

To these enter WALLENSTEIN, accompanied by ILLO and BUTLER

WALLENSTEIN (as he enters).

Terzky!

TERZKY.

My General!

WALLENSTEIN.

            Let our regiments hold themselves

In readiness to march; for we shall leave

Pilsen ere evening.

[Exit TERZKY.]

Butler!

BUTLER.

Yes, my General.

WALLENST.

The Governor of Egra is your friend

And countryman. Write to him instantly

By a post-courier. He must be advised,

That we are with him early on the morrow.

You follow us yourself, your regiment with you.

BUTLER.

It shall be done, my General!

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

Part!

MAX.

O God!

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

WALLENSTEIN (to the Cuirassiers).

Here he is, he is at liberty: I keep him

No longer.

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

MAX.

Thou know'st that I have not yet learnt to live

Without thee! I go forth into a desert,

Leaving my all behind me. O do not turn

Thine eyes away from me! O once more show me

Thy ever dear and honor'd countenance!

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

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

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

My mother!

DUCHESS.

        Go where duty calls you. Haply

The time may come, when you may prove to us

A true friend, a good angel at the throne

Of the Emperor.

MAX.

             You give me hope; you would not

Suffer me wholly to despair. No! no!

Mine is a certain misery. Thanks to Heaven!

That offers me a means of ending it.

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

And you here, Colonel Butler—and will you

Not follow me? Well, then! remain more faithful

To your new lord than you have proved yourself

To the Emperor. Come, Butler! promise me,

Give me your hand upon it, that you'll be

The guardian of his life, its shield, its watchman.

He is attainted, and his princely head

Fair booty for each slave that trades in murder.

Now he doth need the faithful eye of friendship,

And those whom here I see—

[Casting suspicious looks on ILLO and BUTLER.]

ILLO.

Go—seek for traitors

In Gallas', in your father's quarters. Here

Is only one. Away! away! and free us

From his detested sight! Away!

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

MAX.

Blow! blow! O were it but the Swedish trumpets,

And all the naked swords, which I see here,

Were plunged into my breast! What purpose you?

You come to tear me from this place! Beware,

Ye drive me not to desperation. Do it not!

Ye may repent it!

[The stage is entirely filled with armed men.]

Yet more! weight upon weight to drag me down!

Think what ye're doing. It is not well done

To choose a man despairing for your leader;

You tear me from my happiness. Well, then,

I dedicate your souls to vengeance. Mark!

For your own ruin you have chosen me:

Who goes with me, must be prepared to perish.

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

ACT IV

SCENE I

The Burgomaster's House at Egra

BUTLER (just arrived).

Here then he is, by his destiny conducted.

Here, Friedland! and no farther! From Bohemia

Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile,

And here upon the borders of Bohemia

Must sink.

           Thou hast foresworn the ancient colors,

Blind man! yet trustest to thy ancient fortunes.

Profaner of the altar and the hearth,

Against thy Emperor and fellow citizens

Thou mean'st to wage the war. Friedland, beware—

The evil spirit of revenge impels thee—

Beware thou, that revenge destroy thee not!

SCENE II

BUTLER and GORDON

GORDON.

                              Is it you?

How my heart sinks! The Duke a fugitive traitor!

His princely head attainted! O my God!

[Tell me, General, I implore thee, tell me

In full, of all these sad events at Pilsen.]

BUTLER.

You have received the letter which I sent you

By a post-courier?

GORDON.

             Yes: and in obedience to it

Open'd the stronghold to him without scruple,

For an imperial letter orders me

To follow your commands implicitly.

But yet forgive me! when even now I saw

The Duke himself my scruples recommenced;

For truly, not like an attainted man,

Into this town did Friedland make his entrance;

His wonted majesty beam'd from his brow,

And calm, as in the days when all was right,

Did he receive from me the accounts of office.

'Tis said that fallen pride learns condescension;

But sparing and with dignity the Duke

Weigh'd every syllable of approbation,

As masters praise a servant who has done

His duty and no more.

BUTLER.

                      'Tis all precisely

As I related in my letter. Friedland

Has sold the army to the enemy,

And pledged himself to give up Prague and Egra.

On this report the regiments all forsook him,

The five excepted that belong to Terzky,

And which have follow'd him, as thou hast seen

The sentence of attainder is pass'd on him,

And every loyal subject is required

To give him in to justice, dead or living.

GORDON.

A traitor to the Emperor! Such a noble!

Of such high talents! What is human greatness!

I often said, this can't end happily.

His might, his greatness, and his obscure power

Are but a cover'd pit-fall. The human being

May not be trusted to self-government.

The clear and written law, the deep trod foot-marks

Of ancient custom, are all necessary

To keep him in the road of faith and duty.

The authority intrusted to this man

Was unexampled and unnatural,

It placed him on a level with his Emperor,

Till the proud soul unlearn'd submission. Woe is me!

I mourn for him! for where he fell, I deem

Might none stand firm. Alas! dear General,

We in our lucky mediocrity

Have ne'er experienced, cannot calculate,

What dangerous wishes such a height may breed

In the heart of such a man.

BUTLER.

                  Spare your laments

Till he need sympathy; for at this present

He is still mighty, and still formidable.

The Swedes advance to Egra by forced marches,

And quickly will the junction be accomplish'd.

This must not be! The Duke must never leave

This stronghold on free footing; for I have

Pledged life and honor here to hold him prisoner,

And your assistance 'tis on which I calculate.

GORDON.

O that I had not lived to see this day!

From his hand I received this dignity;

He did himself intrust this stronghold to me,

Which I am now required to make his dungeon.

We subalterns have no will of our own:

The free, the mighty man alone may listen

To the fair impulse of his human nature.

Ah! we are but the poor tools of the law,

Obedience the sole virtue we dare aim at!

BUTLER.

Nay! let it not afflict you, that your power

Is circumscribed. Much liberty, much error!

The narrow path of duty is securest.

GORDON.

And all then have deserted him you say?

He has built up the luck of many thousands;

For kingly was his spirit: his full hand

Was ever open! Many a one from dust

[With a sly glance on BUTLER.]

Hath he selected, from the very dust

Hath raised him into dignity and honor,

And yet no friend, not one friend hath he purchased,

Whose heart beats true to him in the evil hour.

BUTLER.

Here's one, I see.

GORDON.

                 I have enjoy'd from him

No grace or favor. I could almost doubt

If ever in his greatness he once thought on

An old friend of his youth. For still my office

Kept me at a distance from him; and when first

He to this citadel appointed me,

He was sincere and serious in his duty.

I do not then abuse his confidence,

If I preserve my fealty in that

Which to my fealty was first delivered.

BUTLER.

Say, then, will you fulfil th' attainder on him,

[And lend your aid to take him in arrest?]

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

If it be so—if all be as you say—

If he've betray'd the Emperor, his master,

Have sold the troops, have purposed to deliver

The strongholds of the country to the enemy—

Yea, truly!—there is no redemption for him

Yet it is hard that me the lot should destine

To be the instrument of his perdition;

For we were pages at the court of Bergau

At the same period; but I was the senior.

BUTLER.

I have heard so—

GORDON.

'Tis full thirty years since then,

A youth who scarce had seen his twentieth year

Was Wallenstein, when he and I were friends.

Yet even then he had a daring soul:

His frame of mind was serious and severe

Beyond his years: his dreams were of great objects,

He walk'd amidst us of a silent spirit,

Communing with himself; yet I have known him

Transported on a sudden into utterance

Of strange conceptions; kindling into splendor,

His soul reveal'd itself, and he spake so

That we look'd round perplex 'd upon each other,

Not knowing whether it were craziness,

Or whether it were a god that spoke in him.

BUTLER.

But was it where he fell two-story-high

From a window-ledge, on which he had fallen asleep

And rose up free from injury? From this day

(It is reported) he betrayed clear marks

Of a distemper'd fancy.

GORDON.

                              He became

Doubtless more self-enwrapt and melancholy;

He made himself a Catholic.[30] Marvelously

His marvelous preservation had transform'd him.

Thenceforth he held himself for an exempted

And privileged being, and, as if he were

Incapable of dizziness or fall,

He ran along the unsteady rope of life.

But now our destinies drove us asunder,

He paced with rapid step the way of greatness,

Was Count, and Prince, Duke-regent, and Dictator—

And now is all, all this too little for him;

He stretches forth his hands for a king's crown,

And plunges in unfathomable ruin.

BUTLER.

No more, he comes.

SCENE III

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

WALLENST.

You were at one time a free town. I see,

Ye bear the half eagle in your city arms.

Why the half eagle only?

BURGOMASTER.

                      We were free,

But for these last two hundred years has Egra

Remain'd in pledge to the Bohemian crown;

Therefore we bear the half eagle, the other half

Being cancell'd till the empire ransom us,

If ever that should be.

WALLENSTEIN.

                     Ye merit freedom.

Only be firm and dauntless. Lend your ears

To no designing whispering court-minions.

What may your imposts be?

BURGOMASTER.

                       So heavy that

We totter under them. The garrison

Lives at our costs.

WALLENSTEIN.

I will relieve you. Tell me,

There are some Protestants among you still

[The BURGOMASTER hesitates.]

Yes, yes; I know it. Many lie conceal'd

Within these walls—confess now—you your self—

     [Fixes his eye on him. The BURGOMASTER

alarmed.]

Be not alarm'd. I hate the Jesuits.

Could my will have determined it, they had

Been long ago expell'd the empire. Trust me—

Mass-book or bible, 'tis all one to me.

Of that the world has had sufficient proof.

I built a church for the Reform'd in Glogau

At my own instance. Harkye, Burgomaster!

What is your name?

BURGOMASTER.

Pachhalbel, may it please you.

WALLENST.

Harkye!—

But let it go no further, what I now

Disclose to you in confidence.

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

                               The times

Draw near to their fulfilment, Burgomaster!

The high will fall, the low will be exalted.

Harkye! But keep it to yourself! The end

Approaches of the Spanish double monarchy—

A new arrangement is at hand. You saw

The three moons that appear'd at once in the Heaven.

BURGOM.

With wonder and affright!

WALLENSTEIN.

                             Whereof did two

Strangely transform themselves to bloody daggers,

And only one, the middle moon, remained

Steady and clear.

BURGOMASTER.

We applied it to the Turks.

WALLENST.

The Turks! That all?—I tell you, that two empires

Will set in blood, in the East and in the West,

And Luth'ranism alone remain.

[Observing GORDON and BUTLER.]

                              I' faith,

'Twas a smart cannonading that we heard