Yes, he _might_ say it safely.–General Wrangel,
[_Taking his hand affectionately._]
Come, fair and open. Trust me, I was always A Swede at heart. Eh! that did you experience Both in Silesia and at Nuremberg;
I had you often in my power, and let you Always slip out by some back door or other. ‘Tis this for which the Court can ne’er forgive me, Which drives me to this present step: and since Our interests so run in one direction,
E’en let us have a thorough confidence Each in the other.
WRANGEL.
Confidence will come
Has each but only first security.
WALLENST.
The Chancellor still, I see, does not quite trust me; And, I confess–the game does not lie wholly To my advantage. Without doubt he thinks, If I can play false with the Emperor,
Who is my sovereign, I can do the like With the enemy, and that _the one_ too were Sooner to be forgiven me than the _other_. Is not this your opinion, too, Sir General?
WRANGEL.
I have here a duty merely, no opinion.
WALLENST.
The Emperor hath urged me to the uttermost: I can no longer honorably serve him;
For my security, in self-defence,
I take this hard step, which my conscience blames.
WRANGEL.
That I believe. So far would no one go Who was not forced to it.
[_After a pause_.]
What may have impell’d
Your princely Highness in this wise to act Toward your Sovereign Lord and Emperor,
Beseems not us to expound or criticise. The Swede is fighting for his good old cause, With his good sword and conscience. This concurrence, This opportunity, is in our favor,
And all advantages in war are lawful. We take what offers without questioning; And if all have its due and just proportions–
WALLENST.
Of what then are ye doubting? Of my will? Or of my power? I pledged me to the Chancellor, Would he trust _me_ with sixteen thousand men, That I would instantly go over to them
With eighteen thousand of the Emperor’s troops.
WRANGEL.
Your Grace is known to be a mighty war-chief, To be a second Attila and Pyrrhus.
‘Tis talked of still with fresh astonishment, How some years past, beyond all human faith, You call’d an army forth, like a creation: But yet–
WALLENSTEIN.
But yet?
WRANGEL.
But still the Chancellor thinks
It might yet be an easier thing from nothing To call forth sixty thousand men of battle, Than to persuade one sixtieth part of them–
WALLENST.
What now? Out with it, friend!
WRANGEL.
To break their oaths.
WALLENST.
And he thinks _so_? He judges like a Swede, And like a Protestant. You Lutherans
Fight for your Bible. You are interested About the cause; and with your _hearts_ you follow Your banners. Among _you_, whoe’er deserts To the enemy hath broken covenant
With two Lords at one time. We’ve no such fancies.
WRANGEL.
Great God in Heaven! Have then the people here No house and home, no fireside, no altar?
WALLENST.
I will explain that to you, how it stands:– The Austrian _has_ a country, ay, and loves it, And has good cause to love it–but this army, That calls itself the Imperial, this that houses Here in Bohemia, this has none–no country; This is an outcast of all foreign lands, Unclaim’d by town or tribe, to whom belongs Nothing except the universal sun.
And this Bohemian land for which we fight– [Loves not the master whom the chance of war, Not its own choice or will, hath given to it. Men murmur at the oppression of their conscience, And power hath only awed but not appeased them; A glowing and avenging mem’ry lives
Of cruel deeds committed on these plains; How can the son forget that here his father Was hunted by the blood-hound to the mass? A people thus oppress’d must still be feared, Whether they suffer or avenge their wrongs.]
WRANGEL.
But then the Nobles and the Officers? Such a desertion, such a felony,
It is without example, my Lord Duke, In the world’s history.
WALLENSTEIN.
They are all mine–
Mine unconditionally–mine on all terms. Not me, your own eyes you must trust.
[_He gives him the paper containing the written oath._ WRANGEL _reads it through, and, having read it, lays it on the table, remaining silent_.]
So then?
Now comprehend you?
WRANGEL.
Comprehend who can!
My Lord Duke, I will let the mask drop–yes! I’ve full powers for a final settlement. The Rhinegrave stands but four days’ march from here With fifteen thousand men, and only waits For orders to proceed and join your army. Those orders _I_ give out, immediately
We’re compromised.
WALLENSTEIN.
What asks the Chancellor?
WRANGEL (_considerately_).
Twelve regiments, every man a Swede–my head The warranty–and all might prove at last Only false play–
WALLENSTEIN (_starting_).
Sir Swede!
WRANGEL (_calmly proceeding_).
Am therefore forced
T’ insist thereon, that he do formally, Irrevocably break with the Emperor,
Else not a Swede is trusted to Duke Friedland.
WALLENST.
Come, brief, and open! What is the demand?
WRANGEL.
That he forthwith disarm the Spanish regiments Attached to the Emp’ror, that he seize on Prague, And to the Swedes give up that city, with The strong pass Egra.
WALLENSTEIN.
That is much indeed!
Prague!–Egra’s granted–but–but Prague!–‘T won’t do. I give you every security
Which you may ask of me in common reason– But Prague–Bohemia–these, Sir General, I can myself protect.
WRANGEL.
We doubt it not.
But ’tis not the protection that is now Our sole concern. We want security
That we shall not expend our men and money All to no purpose.
WALLENSTEIN.
‘Tis but reasonable.
WRANGEL.
And till we are indemnified, so long
Stays Prague in pledge.
WALLENSTEIN.
Then trust you us so little?
WRANGEL (_rising_).
The Swede, if he would treat well with the German, Must keep a sharp look-out. We have been call’d Over the Baltic, we have saved the empire From ruin–with our best blood have we sealed The liberty of faith and gospel truth.
But now already is the benefaction
No longer felt, the load alone is felt. Ye look askance with evil eye upon us,
As foreigners, intruders in the empire, And would fain send us, with some paltry sum Of money, home again to our old forests. No, no! my Lord Duke! no!–it never was
For Judas’ pay, for chinking gold and silver, That we did leave our King by the Great Stone[24] No, not for gold and silver have there bled So many of our Swedish Nobles–neither
Will we, with empty laurels for our payment, Hoist sail for our own country. _Citizens_ Will we remain upon the soil, the which
Our Monarch conquer’d for himself, and died.
WALLENST.
Help to keep down the common enemy,
And the fair border land must needs be yours.
WRANGEL.
But when the common enemy lies vanquish’d, Who knits together our new friendship then? We know, Duke Friedland! though perhaps the Swede Ought not to have known it, that you carry on Secret negotiations with the Saxons.
Who is our warranty, that _we_ are not The sacrifices in those articles
Which ’tis thought needful to conceal from us?
WALLENSTEIN (_rises_).
Think you of something better, Gustave Wrangel! Of Prague no more.
WRANGEL.
Here my commission ends.
WALLENST.
Surrender up to you my capital!
Far liever would I face about, and step Back to my Emperor.
WRANGEL.
If time yet permits–
WALLENST.
That lies with me, even now, at any hour.
WRANGEL.
Some days ago, perhaps. Today, no longer; No longer since Sesina’s been a prisoner.
[WALLENSTEIN _is struck, and silenced_.]
My Lord Duke, hear me–We believe that you At present do mean honorably by us.
Since _yesterday_ we’re sure of that–and now This paper warrants for the troops, there’s nothing Stands in the way of our full confidence. Prague shall not part us. Hear! The Chancellor Contents himself with Altstadt; to your Grace He gives up Ratschin and the narrow side. But Egra above all must open to us,
Ere we can think of any junction.
WALLENSTEIN.
You,
You therefore must I trust, and not you me? I will consider of your proposition.
WRANGEL.
I must entreat that your consideration Occupy not too long a time. Already
Has this negotiation, my Lord Duke, Crept on into the second year! If nothing Is settled this time, will the Chancellor Consider it as broken off for ever.
WALLENST.
Ye press me hard. A measure such as this, Ought to be _thought_ of.
WRANGEL.
Ay! but think of this too,
That sudden action only can procure it Success–think first of this, your Highness.
[_Exit_ WRANGEL.]
SCENE VI
WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, _and_ ILLO (_re-enter_)
ILLO.
It’s all right?
TERZKY.
Are you compromised?
ILLO.
This Swede
Went smiling from you. Yes! you’re compromised.
WALLENST.
As yet is nothing settled: and (well weighed) I feel myself inclined to leave it so.
TERZKY.
How? What is that?
WALLENSTEIN.
Come on me what will come,
The doing evil to avoid an evil
Cannot be good!
TERZKY.
Nay, but bethink you, Duke.
WALLENST.
To live upon the mercy of these Swedes! Of these proud-hearted Swedes!–I could not bear it.
ILLO.
Goest thou as fugitive, as mendicant? Bringest thou not more to them than thou receivest?
WALLENST.
How fared it with the brave and royal Bourbon Who sold himself unto his country’s foes, And pierced the bosom of his father-land? Curses were his reward, and men’s abhorrence Avenged th’ unnatural and revolting deed.
ILLO.
Is that thy case?
WALLENSTEIN.
True faith, I tell thee,
Must ever be the dearest friend of man: His nature prompts him to assert its rights. The enmity of sects, the rage of parties, Long cherish’d envy, jealousy, unite;
And all the struggling elements of evil Suspend their conflict, and together league In one alliance ‘gainst their common foe– The savage beast that breaks into the fold, Where men repose in confidence and peace. For vain were man’s own prudence to protect him. ‘Tis only in the forehead nature plants
The watchful eye–the back, without defence, Must find its shield in man’s fidelity.
TERZKY.
Think not more meanly of thyself than do Thy foes, who stretch their hands with joy to greet thee; Less scrupulous far was the Imperial Charles, The powerful head of this illustrious house; With open arms he gave the Bourbon welcome; For still by policy the world is ruled.
SCENE VII
_To these enter the_ COUNTESS TERZKY
WALLENST.
Who sent for you? There is no business here For women.
COUNTESS.
I am come to bid you joy.
WALLENST.
Use thy authority, Terzky; bid her go.
COUNTESS.
Come I perhaps too early? I hope not.
WALLENST.
Set not this tongue upon me, I entreat you: You know it is the weapon that destroys me. I am routed, if a woman but attack me:
I cannot traffic in the trade of words With that unreasoning sex.
COUNTESS.
I had already
Given the Bohemians a king.
WALLENSTEIN (_sarcastically_).
They have one,
In consequence, no doubt.
COUNTESS (_to the others_).
Ha! what new scruple?
TERZKY.
The Duke will not.
COUNTESS.
He _will not_ what he _must_!
ILLO.
It lies with you now. Try. For I am silenced When folks begin to talk to me of conscience And of fidelity.
COUNTESS.
How? then, when all
Lay in the far-off distance, when the road Stretch’d out before thine eyes interminably, Then hadst thou courage and resolve; and now, Now that the dream is being realized,
The purpose ripe, the issue ascertain’d, Dost thou begin to play the dastard now? Plann’d merely, ’tis a common felony;
Accomplish’d, an immortal undertaking: And with success comes pardon hand in hand, For all event is God’s arbitrament.
SERVANT (_enters_).
The Colonel Piccolomini.
COUNTESS (_hastily_).
Must wait.
WALLENST.
I cannot see him now. Another time.
SERVANT.
But for two minutes he entreats an audience: Of the most urgent nature is his business.
WALLENST.
Who knows what he may bring us! I will hear him.
COUNTESS (_laughs_).
Urgent for him, no doubt? but thou may’st wait.
WALLENST.
What is it?
COUNTESS.
Thou shalt be inform’d hereafter. First let the Swede and thee be compromised.
[_Exit_ SERVANT.]
WALLENST.
If there were yet a choice! if yet some milder Way of escape were possible–I still
Will choose it, and avoid the last extreme.
COUNTESS.
Desirest thou nothing further? Such a way Lies still before thee. Send this Wrangel off. Forget thou thy old hopes, cast far away All thy past life; determine to commence A new one. Virtue hath her heroes too,
As well as fame and fortune.–To Vienna Hence–to the Emperor–kneel before the throne Take a full coffer with thee–say aloud, Thou didst but wish to prove thy fealty; Thy whole intention but to dupe the Swede.
ILLO.
For that too ’tis too late. They know too much; He would but bear his own head to the block.
COUNTESS.
I fear not that. They have not evidence To attaint him legally, and they avoid
The avowal of an arbitrary power.
They’ll let the Duke resign without disturbance. I see how all will end. The King of Hungary Makes his appearance, and ’twill of itself Be understood that then the Duke retires. There will not want a formal declaration; The young King will administer the oath
To the whole army; and so all returns To the old position. On some morrow morning The Duke departs; and now ’tis stir and bustle Within his castles. He will hunt, and build, And superintend his horses’ pedigrees;
Creates himself a court, gives golden keys, And introduces strictest ceremony
In fine proportions, and nice etiquette; Keeps open table with high cheer: in brief, Commences mighty King–in miniature.
And while he prudently demeans himself, And gives himself no actual importance,
He will be let appear whate’er he likes; And who dares doubt that Friedland will appear A mighty Prince to his last dying hour?
Well now, what then? Duke Friedland is as others, A fire-new Noble, whom the war hath raised To price and currency, a Jonah’s gourd,
An over-night creation of court-favor, Which with an undistinguishable ease
Makes Baron or makes Prince.
WALLENSTEIN (_in extreme agitation_).
Take her away.
Let in the young Count Piccolomini.
COUNTESS.
Art thou in earnest? I entreat thee! Canst thou Consent to bear thyself to thy own grave, So ignominiously to be dried up?
Thy life, that arrogated such an height To end in such a nothing! To be nothing, When one was always nothing, is an evil
That asks no stretch of patience, a light evil; But to become a nothing, having been–
WALLENSTEIN (_starts up in violent agitation_).
Show me a way out of this stifling crowd, Ye powers of Aidance! Show me such a way As _I_ am capable of going. I
Am no tongue-hero, no fine virtue-prattler; I cannot warm by thinking; cannot say
To the good luck that turns her back upon me, Magnanimously: “Go; I need thee not.”
Cease I to work, I am annihilated.
Dangers nor sacrifices will I shun, If so I may avoid the last extreme;
But ere I sink down into nothingness, Leave off so little, who began so great, Ere that the world confuses me with those Poor wretches whom a day creates and crumbles, This age and after ages[25] speak my name With hate and dread; and Friedland be redemption For each accursed deed.
COUNTESS.
What is there here, then,
So against nature? Help me to perceive it! O let not Superstition’s nightly goblins Subdue thy clear bright spirit! Art thou bid To murder?–with abhorr’d, accursed poinard, To violate the breasts that nourish’d thee? That _were_ against our nature, that might aptly Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart sicken,[26] Yet not a few, and for a meaner object,
Have ventured even this, ay, and perform’d it. What is there in thy case so black and monstrous? Thou art accused of treason–whether with Or without justice is not now the question– Thou art lost if thou dost not avail thee quickly Of the power which thou possessest–Friedland! _Duke!_ Tell me where lives that thing so meek and tame, That doth not all his living faculties
Put forth in preservation of his life? What deed so daring, which necessity
And desperation will not sanctify?
WALLENST.
Once was this Ferdinand so gracious to me; He loved me; he esteem’d me; I was placed The nearest to his heart. Full many a time We like familiar friends, both at one table, Have banqueted together. He and I–
And the young kings themselves held me the basin Wherewith to wash me–and is’t come to this?
COUNTESS.
So faithfully preserves thou each small favor, And hast no memory for contumelies?
Must I remind thee, how at Regensburg This man repaid thy faithful services?
All ranks and all conditions in the empire Thou hadst wronged, to make him great,–hadst loaded on thee, On _thee_, the hate, the curse of the whole world. No friend existed for thee in all Germany, And why? because thou hadst existed only For the Emperor. To the Emperor alone
Clung Friedland in that storm which gather’d round him At Regensburg in the Diet–and he dropp’d thee! He let thee fall! he let thee fall a victim To the Bavarian, to that insolent!
Deposed, stript bare of all thy dignity And power, amid the taunting of thy foes, Thou wert let drop into obscurity.–
Say not the restoration of thy honor Has made atonement for that first injustice. No honest good-will was it that replaced thee; The law of hard necessity replaced thee, Which they had fain opposed, but that they could not.
WALLENST.
Not to their good wishes, that is certain, Nor yet to his affection I’m indebted
For this high office: and if I abuse it, I shall therein abuse no confidence.
COUNTESS.
Affection! confidence!–they _needed_ thee. Necessity, impetuous remonstrant!
Who not with empty names, or shows of proxy, Is served, who’ll have the thing and not the symbol, Ever seeks out the greatest and the best, And at the rudder places _him_, e’en though She had been forced to take him from the rabble– She, this Necessity, it was that placed thee In this high office; it was she that gave thee Thy letters patent of inauguration.
For, to the uttermost moment that they can, This race still help themselves at cheapest rate With slavish souls, with puppets! At the approach Of extreme peril, when a hollow image
Is found a hollow image and no more, Then falls the power into the mighty hands Of Nature, of the spirit giant-born,
Who listens only to himself, knows nothing Of stipulations, duties, reverences,
And, like the emancipated force of fire, Unmaster’d scorches, ere it reaches them, Their fine-spun webs, their artificial policy.
WALLENST.
‘Tis true! they saw me always as I am– Always! I did not cheat them in the bargain. I never held it worth my pains to hide
The bold all-grasping habit of my soul.
COUNTESS.
Nay rather–thou hast ever shown thyself A formidable man, without restraint;
Hast exercised the full prerogatives Of thy impetuous nature, which had been
Once granted to thee. Therefore, Duke, not _thou_ Who hast still remained consistent with thyself; But _they_ are in the wrong, who fearing thee, Intrusted such a power in hand they fear’d. For, by the laws of Spirit, in the right Is every individual character
That acts in strict consistence with itself. Self-contradiction is the only wrong.
Wert thou another being, then, when thou Eight years ago pursuedst thy march with fire, And sword, and desolation, through the Circles Of Germany, the universal scourge,
Didst mock all ordinances of the empire, The fearful rights of strength alone exertedst, Trampledst to earth each rank, each magistracy, All to extend thy Sultan’s domination?
Then was the time to break thee in, to curb Thy haughty will, to teach thee ordinance. But no, the Emperor felt no touch of conscience; What served him pleased him, and without a murmur He stamp’d his broad seal on these lawless deeds. What at that time was right, because thou didst it _For him_, today is all at once become
Opprobrious, foul, because it is directed _Against him_.–O most flimsy superstition!
WALLENSTEIN (_rising_).
I never saw it in this light before;
‘Tis even so. The Emperor perpetrated Deeds through my arm, deeds most unorderly. And even this prince’s mantle, which I wear, I owe to what were services to him,
But most high misdemeanors ‘gainst the empire.
COUNTESS.
Then betwixt thee and him (confess it Friedland!) The point can be no more of right and duty, Only of power and the opportunity.
That opportunity, lo! it comes yonder Approaching with swift steeds; then with a swing Throw thyself up into the chariot-seat,
Seize with firm hand the reins, ere thy opponent Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest Of the now empty seat. The moment comes; It is already here, when thou must write The absolute total of thy life’s vast sum. The constellations stand victorious o’er thee, The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions, And tell thee, “Now’s the time!” The starry courses Hast thou thy life long measured to no purpose? The quadrant and the circle, were they play-things?
[_Pointing to the different objects in the room_.]
The zodiacs, the rolling orbs of heaven, Hast pictured on these walls, and all around thee In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed These seven presiding Lords of Destiny– For toys? Is all this preparation nothing? Is there no marrow in this hollow art,
That even to thyself it doth avail
Nothing, and has no influence over thee In the great moment of decision?–
WALLENSTEIN. (_during this last speech walks up and down with inward struggles, laboring with passion; stops suddenly, stands still, then interrupting the_ COUNTESS).
Send Wrangel to me–I will instantly
Dispatch three couriers–
ILLO (_hurrying out_).
God in heaven be praised!
WALLENST.
It is _his_ evil genius and _mine_.
Our evil genius! It chastises _him_ Through me, the instrument of his ambition; And I expect no less than that Revenge
E’en now is whetting for _my_ breast the poinard. Who sows the serpent’s teeth, let him not hope To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime
Has, in the moment of its perpetration, Its own avenging angel–dark misgiving,
An ominous sinking at the inmost heart. He can no longer trust me. Then no longer Can I retreat–so come that which must come. Still destiny preserves its due relations, The heart within us is its absolute
Vicegerent.
[_To TERZKY_.]
Go, conduct you Gustave Wrangel To my state-cabinet.–Myself will speak to The couriers.–And dispatch immediately
A servant for Octavio Piccolomini.
[_To the _COUNTESS, _who cannot conceal her triumph_.]
No exultation! woman, triumph not!
For jealous are the Powers of Destiny. Joy premature, and shouts ere victory,
Encroach upon their rights and privileges. We sow the seed, and they the growth determine.
[_While he is making his exit the curtain drops_.]
* * * * *
ACT II
SCENE I
_Scene, as in the preceding Act_
WALLENSTEIN, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI
WALLENSTEIN (_coming forward in conversation_).
He sends me word from Linz that he lies sick; But I have sure intelligence that he
Secretes himself at Frauenberg with Gallas. Secure them both, and send them to me hither. Remember, thou takest on thee the command Of those same Spanish regiments,–constantly Make preparation, and be never ready;
And if they urge thee to draw out against me, Still answer YES, and stand as thou wert fetter’d; I know that it is doing thee a service
To keep thee out of action in this business. Thou lovest to linger on in fair appearances; Steps of extremity are not thy province; Therefore have I sought out this part for thee. Thou wilt this time be of most service to me By thy inertness. The mean time, if fortune Declare itself on my side, thou wilt know What is to do.
_Enter_ MAX PICCOLOMINI
Now go, Octavio.
This night must thou be off, take my own horses Him here I keep with me–make short farewell– Trust me, I think, we all shall meet again In joy and thriving fortunes.
OCTAVIO (_to his son_).
I shall see you
Yet ere I go.
SCENE II
WALLENSTEIN, MAX PICCOLOMINI
MAX. (_advances to him_).
My General?
WALLENSTEIN.
That I am no longer, if
Thou stylest thyself the Emperor’s officer.
MAX.
Then thou wilt leave the army, General?
WALLENST.
I have renounced the service of the Emperor.
MAX.
And thou wilt leave the army?
WALLENSTEIN.
Rather hope I
To bind it nearer still and faster to me.
[_He seats himself_.]
Yes, Max, I have delay’d to open it to thee, Even till the hour of acting ‘gins to strike. Youth’s fortunate feeling doth seize easily The absolute right, yea, and a joy it is To exercise the single apprehension
Where the sums square in proof;
But where it happens that of two sure evils One must be taken, where the heart not wholly Brings itself back from out the strife of duties, There ’tis a blessing to have no election, And blank necessity is grace and favor.
–This is now present: do not look behind thee,– It can no more avail thee. Look thou forwards! Think not! judge not! prepare thyself to act! The Court–it hath determined on my ruin, Therefore I will be beforehand with them. We’ll join the Swedes–right gallant fellows are they, And our good friends.
[_He stops himself, expecting_ PICCOLOMINI’s _answer_.]
I have ta’en thee by surprise. Answer me not. I grant thee time to recollect thyself.
[_He rises, retires at the back of the stage_. MAX _remains for a long time motionless, in a trance of excessive anguish. At his first motion_ WALLENSTEIN _returns, and places himself before him_.]
MAX.
My General, this day thou makest me
Of age to speak in my own right and person, For till this day I have been spared the trouble To find out my own road. Thee have I follow’d With most implicit unconditional faith,
Sure of the right path if I follow’d thee. Today, for the first time, dost thou refer Me to myself, and forcest me to make
Election between thee and my own heart.
WALLENST.
Soft cradled thee thy Fortune till today; Thy duties thou couldst exercise in sport, Indulge all lovely instincts, act forever With undivided heart. It can remain
No longer thus. Like enemies, the roads Start from each other. Duties strive with duties. Thou must needs choose thy party in the war Which is now kindling ‘twixt thy friend and him Who is thy Emperor.
MAX.
War! is that the name?
War is as frightful as heaven’s pestilence, Yet it is good. Is it heaven’s will as that is? Is that a good war, which against the Emperor Thou wagest with the Emperor’s own army? O God of heaven! what a change is this!
Beseems it me to offer such persuasion To thee, who like the fix’d star of the pole Wert all I gazed at on life’s trackless ocean? O! what a rent thou makest in my heart!
The ingrain’d instinct of old reverence, The holy habit of obediency,
Must I pluck live asunder from thy name? Nay, do not turn thy countenance upon me– It always was as a god looking upon me!
Duke Wallenstein, its power has not departed. The senses still are in thy bonds, although, Bleeding, the soul hath freed itself.
WALLENSTEIN.
Max, hear me.
MAX.
O! do it not, I pray thee, do it not! There is a pure and noble soul within thee Knows not of this unblest, unlucky doing. Thy will is chaste, it is thy fancy only Which hath polluted thee; and innocence– It will not let itself be driven away
From that world-awing aspect. Thou wilt not, Thou canst not, end in this. It would reduce All human creatures to disloyalty
Against the nobleness of their own nature. ‘Twill justify the vulgar misbelief
Which holdeth nothing noble in free will And trusts itself to impotence alone
Made powerful only in an unknown power.
WALLENST.
The world will judge me sternly, I expect it. Already have I said to my own self
All thou canst say to me. Who but avoids The extreme, can he by going round avoid it? But here there is no choice. Yes–I must use Or suffer violence–so stands the case;
There remains nothing possible but that.
MAX.
O that is never possible for thee!
‘Tis the last desperate resource of those Cheap souls to whom their honor, their good name Is their poor _saving_, their last worthless _keep_, Which, having staked and lost, they stake themselves In the mad rage of gaming. Thou art rich And glorious; with an unpolluted heart
Thou canst make conquest of whate’er seems highest! But he, who once hath acted infamy,
Does nothing more in this world.
WALLENSTEIN (_grasps his hand_).
Calmly, Max!
Much that is great and excellent will we Perform together yet. And if we only
Stand on the height with dignity, ’tis soon Forgotten, Max, by what road we ascended. Believe me, many a crown shines spotless now That yet was deeply sullied in the winning. To the evil spirit doth the earth belong, Not to the good. All that the powers divine Send from above are universal blessings, Their light rejoices us, their air refreshes, But never yet was man enrich’d by them
In their eternal realm no _property_ Is to be struggled for–all there is general The jewel, the all-valued gold we win
From the deceiving Powers, depraved in nature, That dwell beneath the day and blessed sun-light. Not without sacrifices are they render’d Propitious, and there lives no soul on earth That e’er retired unsullied from their service.
MAX.
Whate’er is human, to the human being Do I allow–and to the vehement
And striving spirit readily I pardon The excess of action; but to thee, my General, Above _all_ others make I large concession. For thou must move a world, and be the master– He kills thee who condemns thee to inaction. So be it then! maintain thee in thy post By violence. Resist the Emperor,
And, if it must be, force with force repel: I will not praise it, yet I can forgive it. But not–not to the _traitor_–yes!–the word Is spoken out–
Not to the traitor can I yield a pardon. That is no mere excess! that is no error Of human nature–that is wholly different; O that is black, black as the pit of hell!
[WALLENSTEIN _betrays a sudden agitation_.]
Thou canst not hear it _named_, and wilt thou _do_ it? O, turn back to thy duty! That thou canst I hold it certain. Send me to Vienna:
I’ll make thy peace for thee with the Emperor. He knows thee not. But I do know thee. He Shall see thee, Duke, with my unclouded eye, And I bring back his confidence to thee.
WALLENST.
It is too late! Thou knowest not what has happen’d.
MAX.
Were it too late, and were things gone so far, That a crime only could prevent thy fall, Then–fall! fall honorably, even as thou stood’st! Lose the command. Go from the stage of war, Thou canst with splendor do it–do it too With innocence. Thou hast lived much for others, At length live thou for thy own self. I follow thee; My destiny I never part from thine.
WALLENST.
It is too late! Even now, while thou art losing Thy words, one after the other are the milestones Left fast behind by my post couriers
Who bear the order on to Prague and Egra.
[MAX _stands as convulsed, with a gesture and_ _countenance expressing the most intense_ _anguish_.]
Yield thyself to it. We act as we are forced. _I_ cannot give assent to my own shame
And ruin. _Thou_–no–thou canst not forsake me! So let us do what must be done, with dignity, With a firm step. What am I doing worse
Than did famed Caesar at the Rubicon, When he the legions led against his country, The which his country had delivered to him? Had he thrown down the sword he had been lost, As I were if I but disarm’d myself.
I trace out something in me of this spirit; Give me his luck, _that other thing_ I’ll bear.
[MAX _quits him abruptly_. WALLENSTEIN _startled and overpowered, continues looking after him and is still in this posture when_ TERZKY _enters_.]
SCENE III
WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY
TERZKY.
Max Piccolomini just left you?
WALLENSTEIN.
Where is Wrangel?
TERZKY.
He is already gone.
WALLENSTEIN.
In such a hurry?
TERZKY.
It is as if the earth had swallow’d him. He had scarce left thee when I went to seek him. I wish’d some words with him–but he was gone. How, when, and where, could no one tell me. Nay, I half believe it was the devil himself; A human creature could not so at once
Have vanish’d.
ILLO (_enters_).
Is it true that thou wilt send Octavio?
TERZKY.
How, Octavio! Whither send him?
WALLENST.
He goes to Frauenburg, and will lead hither The Spanish and Italian regiments.
ILLO.
No!
Nay, Heaven forbid!
WALLENSTEIN.
And why should Heaven forbid?
ILLO.
Him!–that deceiver! Wouldst thou trust to him The soldiery? Him wilt thou let slip from thee, Now in the very instant that decides us–
TERZKY.
Thou wilt not do this–No! I pray thee, no!
WALLENST.
Ye are whimsical.
ILLO.
O but for this time, Duke,
Yield to our warning! Let him not depart.
WALLENST.
And why should I not trust him only this time, Who have always trusted him? What, then, has happen’d That I should lose my good opinion of him? In complaisance to your whims, not my own, I must, forsooth, give up a rooted judgment. Think not I am a woman. Having trusted him E’en till today, today too will I trust him.
TERZKY.
Must it be he–he only? Send another.
WALLENST.
It must be he whom I myself have chosen; He is well fitted for the business. Therefore I gave it him.
ILLO.
Because he’s an Italian– Therefore is he well fitted for the business!
WALLENST.
I know you love them not–nor sire nor son– Because that I esteem them, love them–visibly Esteem them, love them more than you and others. E’en as they merit. Therefore are they eye-blights, Thorns in your foot-path. But your jealousies, In what affect they me or my concerns?
Are they the worse to _me_ because you hate them? Love or hate one another as you will,
I leave to each man his own moods and likings; Yet know the worth of each of you to me.
ILLO.
Von Questenberg, while he was here, was always Lurking about with this Octavio.
WALLENST.
It happen’d with my knowledge and permission.
ILLO.
I know that secret messengers came to him From Gallas–
WALLENSTEIN.
That’s not true.
ILLO.
O thou art blind,
With thy deep-seeing eyes!
WALLENSTEIN.
Thou wilt not shake
My faith for me–my faith, which founds itself On the profoundest science. If ’tis false, Then the whole science of the stars is false; For know, I have a pledge from Fate itself, That he is the most faithful of my friends.
ILLO.
Hast thou a pledge, that this pledge is not false?
WALLENST.
There exist moments in the life of man, When he is nearer the great Soul of the world Than is man’s custom, and possesses freely The power of questioning his destiny:
And such a moment ’twas, when in the night Before the action in the plains of Luetzen, Leaning against a tree, thoughts crowding thoughts, I look’d out far upon the ominous plain. My whole life, past and future, in this moment Before my mind’s eye glided in procession, And to the destiny of the next morning
The spirit, fill’d with anxious presentiment, Did knit the most removed futurity.
Then said I also to myself: “So many Dost thou command. They follow all thy stars And as on some great number set their All Upon thy single head, and only man
The vessel of thy fortune. Yet a day Will come when Destiny shall once more scatter All these in many a several direction:
Few be they who will stand out faithful to thee.” I yearn’d to know which one was faithfullest Of all, this camp included. Great Destiny, Give me a sign! And he shall be the man, Who, on the approaching morning, comes the first To meet me with a token of his love.
And thinking this, I fell into a slumber. Then midmost in the battle was I led
In spirit. Great the pressure and the tumult! Then was my horse kil’d under me; I sank; And over me away, all unconcernedly,
Drove horse and rider–and thus trod to pieces I lay, and panted like a dying man;
Then seized me suddenly a savior arm; It was Octavio’s–I awoke at once;
‘Twas broad day, and _Octavio_ stood before me. “My brother,” said he, “do not ride today The dapple, as you’re wont; but mount the horse Which I have chosen for thee. Do it, brother! In love to me. A strong dream warn’d me so.” It was the swiftness of his horse that snatch’d me From the hot pursuit of Bannier’s dragoons. My cousin rode the dapple on that day,
And never more saw I of horse or rider.
ILLO.
That was a chance.
WALLENSTEIN (_significantly_).
There’s no such thing as chance. [And what to us seems merest accident
Springs from the deepest source of destiny.] In brief, ’tis sign’d and seal’d that this Octavio Is my good angel–and now no word more.
[_He is retiring_.]
TERZKY.
This is my comfort–Max remains our hostage.
ILLO.
And he shall never stir from here alive.
WALLENSTEIN (_stops and turns himself round_).
Are ye not like the women who forever Only recur to their first word, although One had been talking reason by the hour! Know that the human being’s thoughts and needs Are not like ocean billows, blindly moved. The inner world, his microcosmus, is
The deep shaft out of which they spring eternally. They grow by certain laws, like the tree’s fruit– No juggling chance can metamorphose them. Have I the human _kernel_ first examined? Then I know, too, the future will and action.
[_Exeunt_.]
SCENE IV
_Chamber in the residence of Piccolomini_
OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI (_attired for traveling_), AN ADJUTANT
OCTAVIO.
Is the detachment here?
ADJUT.
It awaits below.
OCTAVIO.
And are the soldiers trusty, Adjutant? Say, from what regiment hast thou chosen them?
ADJUT. From Tiefenbach’s.
OCTAVIO.
That regiment is loyal;
Keep them in silence in the inner court, Unseen by all, and when the signal peals Then close the doors; keep watch upon the house, And all ye meet be instantly arrested.
[_Exit Adjutant_.]
I hope indeed I shall not need their service, So certain feel I of my well laid plans; But when an empire’s safety is at stake
‘Twere better too much caution than too little.
SCENE V
_A Chamber in PICCOLOMINI’s Dwelling-House_.
OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, ISOLANI, _entering_
ISOLANI.
Here am I–Well! who comes yet of the others?
OCTAVIO (_with an air of mystery_).
But, first, a word with you, Count Isolani.
ISOLANI (_assuming the same air of mystery_).
Will it explode, ha?–Is the Duke about To make the attempt? In me, friend, you may place Full confidence–Nay, put me to the proof.
OCTAVIO.
That may happen.
ISOLANI.
Noble brother, I am
Not one of those men who in words are valiant, And when it comes to action skulk away.
The Duke has acted toward me as a friend. God knows it is so; and I owe him all–
He may rely on my fidelity.
OCTAVIO.
That will be seen hereafter.
ISOLANI.
Be on your guard,
All think not as I think; and there are many Who still hold with the Court–yes, and they say That those stolen signatures bind them to nothing.
[OCTAVIO.
Indeed! Pray name to me the chiefs that think so.
ISOLANI.
Plague upon them! all the Germans think so; Esterhazy, Kaunitz, Deodati, too,
Insist upon obedience to the Court.]
OCTAVIO.
I am rejoiced to hear it.
ISOLANI.
You rejoice
OCTAVIO.
That the Emperor has yet such gallant servants, And loving friends!
ISOLANI.
Nay, jeer not, I entreat you. They are no such worthless fellows, I assure you.
OCTAVIO.
I am assured already. God forbid
That I should jest!–In very serious earnest, I am rejoiced to see an honest cause
So strong.
ISOLANI.
The Devil!–what!–Why, what means this? Are you not, then–For what, then, am I here?
OCTAVIO.
That you may make full declaration, whether You will be call’d the friend or enemy
Of the Emperor.
ISOLANI (_with an air of defiance_).
That declaration, friend,
I’ll make to him in whom a right is placed To put that question to me.
OCTAVIO.
Whether, Count,
That right is mine, this paper may, instruct you.
ISOLANI (_stammering_).
Why,–why–what! this is the Emperor’s hand and seal! [_Reads_.] “Whereas, the officers collectively
Throughout our army will obey the orders Of the Lieutenant-General Piccolomini.
As from ourselves.”–_Hem_–Yes! so I– Yes! yes!–
I–I give you joy, Lieutenant-General!
OCTAVIO.
And you submit you to the order?
ISOLANI.
I–
But you have taken me so by surprise– Time for reflection one _must_ have–
OCTAVIO.
Two minutes.
ISOLANI.
My God! But then the case is–
OCTAVIO.
Plain and simple
You must declare you, whether you determine To act a treason ‘gainst your Lord and Sovereign, Or whether you will serve him faithfully.
ISOLANI.
Treason!–My God!–But who talks then of treason?
OCTAVIO.
That is the case. The Prince-duke is a traitor– Means to lead over to the enemy
The Emperor’s army.–Now, Count!–brief and full–
Say, will you break your oath to the Emperor? Sell yourself to the enemy?–Say, will you?
ISOLANI.
What mean you? I–I break my oath, d’ye say, To his Imperial Majesty?
Did I say so!–When, when have I said that?
OCTAVIO.
You have not said it yet–not yet. This instant I wait to hear, Count, whether you _will_ say it.
ISOLANI.
Ay! that delights me now, that you yourself Bear witness for me that I never said so.
OCTAVIO.
And you renounce the Duke then?
ISOLANI.
If he’s planning
Treason–why, treason breaks all bonds asunder.
OCTAVIO.
And are determined, too, to fight against him?
ISOLANI.
He has done me service–but if he’s a villain, Perdition seize him!–All scores are rubb’d off.
OCTAVIO.
I am rejoiced that you are so well disposed. This night, break off in the utmost secrecy With all the light-arm’d troops–it must appear As came the order from the Duke himself. At Frauenburg’s the place of rendezvous; There will Count Gallas give you further orders.
ISOLANI.
It shall be done.-But you’ll remember me With the Emperor–how well-disposed you
found me.
OCTAVIO.
I will not fail to mention it honorably.
[_Exit_ ISOLANI. _A Servant enters_.]
What, Colonel Butler!–Show him up.
ISOLANI (_returning_).
Forgive me too my bearish ways, old father! Lord God! how should I know, then, what a great Person I had before me.
OCTAVIO.
No excuses!
ISOLANI.
I am a merry lad, and if at time
A rash word might escape me ‘gainst the Court Amidst my wine–You know no harm was
meant.
[_Exit_.]
OCTAVIO.
You need not be uneasy on that score
That has succeeded. Fortune favor us With all the others only but as much!
SCENE VI
OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, BUTLER
BUTLER.
At your command, Lieutenant-General.
OCTAVIO.
Welcome, as honor’d friend and visitor.
BUTLER.
You do me too much honor.
OCTAVIO (_after both have seated themselves_).
You have not
Return’d the advances which I made you yesterday– Misunderstood them as mere empty forms.
That wish proceeded from my heart–I was In earnest with you–for ’tis now a time In which the honest should unite most closely.
BUTLER.
‘Tis only the like-minded can unite.
OCTAVIO.
True! and I name all honest men like-minded. I never charge a man but with those acts To which his character deliberately
Impels him; for alas! the violence
Of blind misunderstandings often thrusts The very best of us from the right track. You came through Frauenburg. Did the Count Gallas Say nothing to you? Tell me. He’s my friend.
BUTLER.
His words were lost on _me_.
OCTAVIO.
It grieves me sorely,
To hear it: for his counsel was most wise. I had myself the like to offer.
BUTLER.
Spare
Yourself the trouble–me th’ embarrassment, To have deserved so ill your good opinion.
OCTAVIO.
The time is precious–let us talk openly. You know how matters stand here. Wallenstein Meditates treason–I can tell you further, He has committed treason; but few hours
Have past since he a covenant concluded With the enemy. The messengers are now
Full on their way to Egra and to Prague. Tomorrow he intends to lead us over
To the enemy. But he deceives himself; For Prudence wakes–The Emperor has still Many and faithful friends here, and they stand In closest union, mighty though unseen.
This manifesto sentences the Duke– Recalls the obedience of the army from him, And summons all the loyal, all the honest, To join and recognize in me their leader. Choose–will you share with us an honest cause? Or with the evil share an evil lot?
BUTLER (_rises_).
His lot is mine.
OCTAVIO.
Is that your last resolve?
BUTLER.
It is.
OCTAVIO.
Nay, but bethink you, Colonel Butler! As yet you have time. Within my faithful breast That rashly utter’d word remains interr’d. Recall it, Butler! choose a better party; You have not chosen the right one.
BUTLER (_going_).
Any other
Commands for me, Lieutenant-General?
OCTAVIO.
See your white hairs: recall that word!
BUTLER.
Farewell!
OCTAVIO.
What! Would you draw this good and gallant sword In such a cause? Into a curse would you
Transform the gratitude which you have earn’d By forty years’ fidelity from Austria?
BUTLER (_laughing with bitterness_).
Gratitude from the House of Austria!
[He is going.]
OCTAVIO (_permits him to go as far as the door, then calls after him_).
Butler!
BUTLER.
What wish you?
OCTAVIO.
How was’t with the Count?
BUTLER.
Count? what?
OCTAVIO (_coldly_).
The title that you wish’d, I mean.
BUTLER (_starts in sudden passion_).
Hell and damnation!
OCTAVIO (_coldly_).
You petition’d for it–
And your petition was repelled–Was it so?
BUTLER.
Your insolent scoff shall not go by unpunish’d. Draw!
OCTAVIO.
Nay! your sword to ‘ts sheath! and tell me calmly, How all that happen’d. I will not refuse you Your satisfaction afterward. Calmly, Butler!
BUTLER.
Be the whole world acquainted with the weakness For which I never can forgive myself.
Lieutenant-General! Yes; I have ambition. Ne’er was I able to endure contempt.
It stung me to the quick, that birth and title Should have more weight than merit has in the army. I would fain not be meaner than my equal, So in an evil hour I let myself
Be tempted to that measure. It was folly! But yet so hard a penance it deserved not. It might have been refused; but wherefore barb And venom the refusal with contempt?
Why dash to earth and crush with heaviest scorn The gray-hair’d man, the faithful veteran? Why to the baseness of his parentage
Refer him with such cruel roughness, only Because he had a weak hour and forgot himself? But nature gives a sting e’en to the worm Which wanton Power treads on in sport and insult.
OCTAVIO.
You must have been calumniated. Guess you The enemy who did you this ill service?
BUTLER.
Be’t who it will–a most low-hearted scoundrel! Some vile court-minion must it be, some Spaniard, Some young squire of some ancient family, In whose light I may stand; some envious knave, Stung to his soul by my fair self-earn’d honors!
OCTAVIO.
But tell me, did the Duke approve that measure?
BUTLER.
Himself impell’d me to it, used his interest In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship.
OCTAVIO.
Ay? are you sure of that?
BUTLER.
I read the letter.
OCTAVIO.
And so did I–but the contents were different. [BUTLER _is suddenly struck_.]
By chance I’m in possession of that letter– Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you.
[_He gives him the letter_.]
BUTLER.
Ha! what is this?
OCTAVIO.
I fear me, Colonel Butler, An infamous game have they been playing with you. The Duke, you say, impell’d you to this measure? Now, in this letter, talks he in contempt Concerning you; counsels the minister
To give sound chastisement to your conceit, For so he calls it.
[BUTLER _reads through the letter; his knees tremble, he seizes a chair, and sinks down in it_.]
You have no enemy, no persecutor;
There’s no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe The insult you received to the Duke only. His aim is clear and palpable. He wish’d To tear you from your Emperor: he hoped
To gain from your revenge what he well knew (What your long-tried fidelity convinced him) He ne’er could dare expect from your calm reason. A blind tool would he make you, in contempt Use you, as means of most abandoned ends. He has gained his point. Too well has he succeeded In luring you away from that good path
On which you had been journeying forty years!
BUTLER _(his voice trembling)_.
Can e’er the Emperor’s Majesty forgive me?
OCTAVIO.
More than forgive you. He would fain compensate For that affront, and most unmerited grievance Sustain’d by a deserving gallant veteran. From his free impulse he confirms the present, Which the Duke made you for a wicked purpose. The regiment, which you now command, is yours.
[BUTLER attempts to rise, sinks down again. He labors inwardly with violent emotions; tries to speak, and cannot. At length he takes his sword from the belt, and offers it to PICCOLOMINI.]
OCTAVIO.
What wish you? Recollect yourself, friend.
BUTLER.
Take it.
OCTAVIO.
But to what purpose? Calm yourself.
BUTLER.
O take it!
I am no longer worthy of this sword.
OCTAVIO.
Receive it then anew, from my hands–and Wear it with honor for the right cause ever.
BUTLER.
Perjure myself to such a gracious Sovereign!
OCTAVIO.
You’ll make amends. Quick! break off from the Duke!
BUTLER.
Break off from him!
OCTAVIO.
What now? Bethink thyself.
BUTLER (_no longer governing his emotion_).
Only break off from him? He dies! he dies!
OCTAVIO.
Come after me to Frauenburg, where now All who are loyal are assembling under
Counts Altringer and Gallas. Many others I’ve brought to a remembrance of their duty: This night be sure that you escape from Pilsen.
BUTLER (_strides up and down in excessive agitation, then steps up to_ OCTAVIO _with resolved countenance_).
Count Piccolomini! dare that man speak Of honor to you, who once broke his troth.
OCTAVIO.
He, who repents so deeply of it, dares.
BUTLER.
Then leave me here upon my word of honor!
OCTAVIO.
What’s your design?
BUTLER.
Leave me and my regiment.
OCTAVIO.
I have full confidence in you. But tell me What are you brooding?
BUTLER.
That the deed will tell you.
Ask me no more at present. Trust to me. Ye may trust safely. By the living God
Ye give him over, not to his good angel! Farewell.
[_Exit_ BUTLER.]
SERVANT (_enters with a billet_).
A stranger left it, and is gone.