[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 went fettered. 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 meantime, 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?

WALLENSTEIN. 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 delayed 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 taken thee by surprise. Answer me not: I grant thee time to recollect thyself.

[He rises, retires to 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 followed With most implicit, unconditional faith, Sure of the right path if I followed thee. To-day, for the first time, dost thou refer Me to myself, and forcest me to make Election between thee and my own heart.

WALLENSTEIN. Soft cradled thee thy fortune till to-day; 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 fixed star of the pole Wert all I gazed at on life's trackless ocean? O! what a rent thou makest in my heart! The ingrained instinct of old reverence, The holy habit of obediency, Must I pluck life 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. Oh, 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.

WALLENSTEIN. The world will judge me harshly, 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. Oh, 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 staked 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 enriched 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 sunlight. Not without sacrifices are they rendered 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, Oh, 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.

WALLENSTEIN. It is too late! Thou knowest not what has happened.

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 stoodest, 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.

WALLENSTEIN. It is too late! Even now, while thou art losing Thy words, one after another, are the mile-stones 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 disarmed 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 swallowed him. He had scarce left thee, when I went to seek him. I wished 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 vanished.

ILLO (enters). Is it true that thou wilt send Octavio?

TERZKY. How, Octavio! Whither send him?

WALLENSTEIN. He goes to Frauenberg, 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!

WALLENSTEIN. Ye are whimsical.

ILLO. O but for this time, duke, Yield to our warning! Let him not depart.

WALLENSTEIN. And why should I not trust him only this time, Who have always trusted him? What, then, has happened 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 to-day, to-day too will I trust him.

TERZKY. Must it be he—he only? Send another.

WALLENSTEIN. 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!

WALLENSTEIN. 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 footpath. 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.

WALLENSTEIN. It happened 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?

WALLENSTEIN. 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 looked 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, filled 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 yearned to know which one was faithfulest Of all, my 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 killed 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 woke at once, 'Twas broad day, and Octavio stood before me. "My brother," said he, "do not ride to-day 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 warned me so." It was the swiftness of this horse that snatched me From the hot pursuit of Bannier's dragoons. My cousin rode the dapple on that day, And never more saw I or 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 signed and sealed 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 deeds 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 travelling), an ADJUTANT.

OCTAVIO. Is the detachment here?

ADJUTANT. It waits below.

OCTAVIO. And are the soldiers trusty, adjutant? Say, from what regiment hast thou chosen them?

ADJUTANT. 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 towards 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 these 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 called 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!—Yes! yes! I—I give you joy, lieutenant-general!

OCTAVIO. And you submit 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 rubbed off.

OCTAVIO. I am rejoiced that you are so well disposed. This night break off in the utmost secrecy With all the light-armed troops—it must appear As came the order from the duke himself. At Frauenberg'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.

OCTAVIO. You need not be uneasy on that score. That has succeeded. Fortune favor us With all the others only but as much.

[Exit.



SCENE VI.

OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, BUTLER.

BUTLER. At your command, lieutenant-general.

OCTAVIO. Welcome, as honored friend and visitor.

BUTLER. You do me too much honor.

OCTAVIO (after both have seated themselves) You have not Returned 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 Frauenberg. 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 the 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. To-morrow 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 uttered word remains interred. 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 earned 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 wished, I mean.

BUTLER (starts in sudden passion). Hell and damnation!

OCTAVIO (coldly). You petitioned for it— And your petition was repelled—was it so?

BUTLER. Your insolent scoff shall not go by unpunished. Draw!

OCTAVIO. Nay! your sword to its sheath! and tell me calmly How all that happened. I will not refuse you Your satisfaction afterwards. 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-haired 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-earned honors!

OCTAVIO. But tell me, did the duke approve that measure?

BUTLER. Himself impelled 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, impelled 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 clown 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 wished 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 Sustained 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 Frauenberg, 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 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. The prince-duke's horses wait for you below.

[Exit SERVANT.

OCTAVIO (reads). "Be sure, make haste! Your faithful Isolani." —O that I had but left this town behind me. To split upon a rock so near the haven! Away! This is no longer a safe place For me! Where can my son be tarrying!



SCENE VII.

OCTAVIO and MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

MAX. enters almost in a state of derangement, from extreme agitation; his eyes roll wildly, his walk is unsteady, and he appears not to observe his father, who stands at a distance, and gazes at him with a countenance expressive of compassion. He paces with long strides through the chamber, then stands still again, and at last throws himself into a chair, staring vacantly at the object directly before him.

OCTAVIO (advances to him). I am going off, my son. [Receiving no answer, he takes his hands My son, farewell.

MAX. Farewell.

OCTAVIO. Thou wilt soon follow me?

MAX. I follow thee? Thy way is crooked—it is not my way. [OCTAVIO drops his hand and starts back. Oh, hadst thou been but simple and sincere, Ne'er had it come to this—all had stood otherwise. He had not done that foul and horrible deed, The virtuous had retained their influence over him He had not fallen into the snares of villains. Wherefore so like a thief, and thief's accomplice Didst creep behind him lurking for thy prey! Oh, unblest falsehood! Mother of all evil! Thou misery-making demon, it is thou That sinkest us in perdition. Simple truth, Sustainer of the world, had saved us all! Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee! Wallenstein has deceived me—oh, most foully! But thou has acted not much better.

OCTAVIO. Son My son, ah! I forgive thy agony!

MAX. (rises and contemplates his father with looks of suspicion). Was't possible? hadst thou the heart, my father, Hadst thou the heart to drive it to such lengths, With cold premeditated purpose? Thou— Hadst thou the heart to wish to see him guilty Rather than saved? Thou risest by his fall. Octavio, 'twill not please me.

OCTAVIO. God in heaven!

MAX. Oh, woe is me! sure I have changed my nature. How comes suspicion here—in the free soul? Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all Lied to me, all that I e'er loved or honored. No, no! not all! She—she yet lives for me, And she is true, and open as the heavens Deceit is everywhere, hypocrisy, Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury: The single holy spot is our love, The only unprofaned in human nature.

OCTAVIO. Max.!—we will go together. 'Twill be better.

MAX. What? ere I've taken a last parting leave, The very last—no, never!

OCTAVIO. Spare thyself The pang of necessary separation. Come with me! Come, my son!

[Attempts to take him with him.

MAX. No! as sure as God lives, no!

OCTAVIO (more urgently). Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.

MAX. Command me what is human. I stay here.

OCTAVIO. Max.! in the emperor's name I bid thee come.

MAX. No emperor has power to prescribe Laws to the heart; and wouldst thou wish to rob me Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me, Her sympathy? Must then a cruel deed Be done with cruelty? The unalterable Shall I perform ignobly—steal away, With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No! She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish, Hear the complaints of the disparted soul, And weep tears o'er me. Oh! the human race Have steely souls—but she is as an angel. From the black deadly madness of despair Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!

OCTAVIO. Thou wilt not tear thyself away; thou canst not. Oh, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.

MAX. Squander not thou thy words in vain. The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it.

OCTAVIO (trembling, and losing all self-command). Max.! Max.! if that most damned thing could be, If thou—my son—my own blood—(dare I think it?) Do sell thyself to him, the infamous, Do stamp this brand upon our noble house, Then shall the world behold the horrible deed, And in unnatural combat shall the steel Of the son trickle with the father's blood.

MAX. Oh, hadst thou always better thought of men, Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion, Unholy, miserable doubt! To him Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm Who has no faith.

OCTAVIO. And if I trust thy heart, Will it be always in thy power to follow it?

MAX. The heart's voice thou hast not o'erpowered—as little Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it.

OCTAVIO. O, Max.! I see thee never more again!

MAX. Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.

OCTAVIO. I go to Frauenberg—the Pappenheimers I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Tsokana And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee. They love thee, and are faithful to their oath, And will far rather fall in gallant contest Than leave their rightful leader and their honor.

MAX. Rely on this, I either leave my life In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen.

OCTAVIO. Farewell, my son!

MAX. Farewell!

OCTAVIO. How! not one look Of filial love? No grasp of the hand at parting? It is a bloody war to which we are going, And the event uncertain and in darkness. So used we not to part—it was not so! Is it then true? I have a son no longer?

[MAX. falls into his arms, they hold each other for a long time in a speechless embrace, then go away at different sides.

(The curtain drops.)



ACT III.

SCENE I.

A chamber in the house of the Duchess of Friedland.

COUNTESS TERZKY, THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN (the two latter sit at the same table at work).

COUNTESS (watching them from the opposite side). So you have nothing to ask me—nothing? I have been waiting for a word from you. And could you then endure in all this time Not once to speak his name?

[THEKLA remaining silent, the COUNTESS rises and advances to her.

Why, how comes this? Perhaps I am already grown superfluous, And other ways exist, besides through me Confess it to me, Thekla: have you seen him?

THEKLA. To-day and yesterday I have not seen him.

COUNTESS. And not heard from him, either? Come, be open.

THEKLA. No Syllable.

COUNTESS. And still you are so calm?

THEKLA. I am.

COUNTESS. May it please you, leave us, Lady Neubrunn.

[Exit LADY NEUBRUNN.



SCENE II.

The COUNTESS, THEKLA.

COUNTESS. It does not please me, princess, that he holds Himself so still, exactly at this time.

THEKLA. Exactly at this time?

COUNTESS. He now knows all 'Twere now the moment to declare himself.

THEKLA. If I'm to understand you, speak less darkly.

COUNTESS. 'Twas for that purpose that I bade her leave us. Thekla, you are no more a child. Your heart Is no more in nonage: for you love, And boldness dwells with love—that you have proved Your nature moulds itself upon your father's More than your mother's spirit. Therefore may you Hear what were too much for her fortitude.

THEKLA. Enough: no further preface, I entreat you. At once, out with it! Be it what it may, It is not possible that it should torture me More than this introduction. What have you To say to me? Tell me the whole, and briefly!

COUNTESS. You'll not be frightened——

THEKLA. Name it, I entreat you.

COUNTESS. Lies within my power to do your father A weighty service——

THEKLA. Lies within my power.

COUNTESS. Max. Piccolomini loves you. You can link him Indissolubly to your father.

THEKLA. I? What need of me for that? And is he not Already linked to him?

COUNTESS. He was.

THEKLA. And wherefore Should he not be so now—not be so always?

COUNTESS. He cleaves to the emperor too.

THEKLA. Not more than duty And honor may demand of him.

COUNTESS. We ask Proofs of his love, and not proofs of his honor. Duty and honor! Those are ambiguous words with many meanings. You should interpret them for him: his love Should be the sole definer of his honor.

THEKLA. How?

COUNTESS. The emperor or you must he renounce.

THEKLA. He will accompany my father gladly In his retirement. From himself you heard, How much he wished to lay aside the sword.

COUNTESS. He must not lay the sword aside, we mean; He must unsheath it in your father's cause.

THEKLA. He'll spend with gladness and alacrity His life, his heart's blood in my father's cause, If shame or injury be intended him.

COUNTESS. You will not understand me. Well, hear then: Your father has fallen off from the emperor, And is about to join the enemy With the whole soldiery——

THEKLA. Alas, my mother!

COUNTESS. There needs a great example to draw on The army after him. The Piccolomini Possess the love and reverence of the troops; They govern all opinions, and wherever They lead the way, none hesitate to follow. The son secures the father to our interests— You've much in your hands at this moment.

THEKLA. Ah, My miserable mother! what a death-stroke Awaits thee! No! she never will survive it.

COUNTESS. She will accommodate her soul to that Which is and must be. I do know your mother: The far-off future weighs upon her heart With torture of anxiety; but is it Unalterably, actually present, She soon resigns herself, and bears it calmly.

THEKLA. O my foreboding bosom! Even now, E'en now 'tis here, that icy hand of horror! And my young hope lies shuddering in its grasp; I knew it well—no sooner had I entered, An heavy ominous presentiment Revealed to me that spirits of death were hovering Over my happy fortune. But why, think I First of myself? My mother! O my mother!

COUNTESS.

Calm yourself! Break not out in vain lamenting! Preserve you for your father the firm friend, And for yourself the lover, all will yet Prove good and fortunate.

THEKLA. Prove good! What good? Must we not part; part ne'er to meet again?

COUNTESS. He parts not from you! He cannot part from you.

THEKLA. Alas, for his sore anguish! It will rend His heart asunder.

COUNTESS. If indeed he loves you. His resolution will be speedily taken.

THEKLA. His resolution will be speedily taken— Oh, do not doubt of that! A resolution! Does there remain one to be taken?

COUNTESS. Hush! Collect yourself! I hear your mother coming.

THERLA. How shall I bear to see her?

COUNTESS. Collect yourself.



SCENE III.

To them enter the DUCHESS.

DUCHESS (to the COUNTESS). Who was here, sister? I heard some one talking, And passionately, too.

COUNTESS. Nay! there was no one.

DUCHESS. I am growing so timorous, every trifling noise Scatters my spirits, and announces to me The footstep of some messenger of evil. And you can tell me, sister, what the event is? Will he agree to do the emperor's pleasure, And send the horse regiments to the cardinal? Tell me, has he dismissed von Questenberg With a favorable answer?

COUNTESS. No, he has not.

DUCHESS. Alas! then all is lost! I see it coming, The worst that can come! Yes, they will depose him; The accursed business of the Regensburg diet Will all be acted o'er again!

COUNTESS. No! never! Make your heart easy, sister, as to that.

[THEKLA, in extreme agitation, throws herself upon her mother, and enfolds her in her arms, weeping.

DUCHESS. Yes, my poor child! Thou too hast lost a most affectionate godmother In the empress. Oh, that stern, unbending man! In this unhappy marriage what have I Not suffered, not endured? For even as if I had been linked on to some wheel of fire That restless, ceaseless, whirls impetuous onward, I have passed a life of frights and horrors with him, And ever to the brink of some abyss With dizzy headlong violence he bears me. Nay, do not weep, my child. Let not my sufferings Presignify unhappiness to thee, Nor blacken with their shade the fate that waits thee. There lives no second Friedland; thou, my child, Hast not to fear thy mother's destiny.

THEELA. Oh, let us supplicate him, dearest mother! Quick! quick! here's no abiding-place for us. Here every coming hour broods into life Some new affrightful monster.

DUCHESS. Thou wilt share An easier, calmer lot, my child! We, too, I and thy father, witnessed happy days. Still think I with delight of those first years, When he was making progress with glad effort, When his ambition was a genial fire, Not that consuming flame which now it is. The emperor loved him, trusted him; and all He undertook could not but be successful. But since that ill-starred day at Regensburg, Which plunged him headlong from his dignity, A gloomy, uncompanionable spirit, Unsteady and suspicious, has possessed him. His quiet mind forsook him, and no longer Did he yield up himself in joy and faith To his old luck and individual power; But thenceforth turned his heart and best affections All to those cloudy sciences which never Have yet made happy him who followed them.

COUNTESS. You see it, sister! as your eyes permit you, But surely this is not the conversation To pass the time in which we are waiting for him. You know he will be soon here. Would you have him Find her in this condition?

DUCHESS. Come, my child! Come, wipe away thy tears, and show thy father A cheerful countenance. See, the tie-knot here Is off; this hair must not hang so dishevelled. Come, dearest! dry thy tears up. They deform Thy gentle eye. Well, now—what was I saying? Yes, in good truth, this Piccolomini Is a most noble and deserving gentleman.

COUNTESS. That is he, sister!

THEKLA (to the COUNTESS, with narks of great oppression of spirits). Aunt, you will excuse me?

(Is going).

COUNTESS. But, whither? See, your father comes!

THEKLA. I cannot see him now.

COUNTESS. Nay, but bethink you.

THEKLA. Believe me, I cannot sustain his presence.

COUNTESS. But he will miss you, will ask after you.

DUCHESS. What, now? Why is she going?

COUNTESS. She's not well.

DUCHESS (anxiously). What ails, then, my beloved child?

[Both follow the PRINCESS, and endeavor to detain her. During this WALLENSTEIN appears, engaged in conversation with ILLO.



SCENE IV.

WALLENSTEIN, ILLO, COUNTESS, DUCHESS, THEKLA.

WALLENSTEIN. All quiet in the camp?

ILLO. It is all quiet.

WALLENSTEIN. In a few hours may couriers come from Prague With tidings that this capital is ours. Then we may drop the mask, and to the troops Assembled in this town make known the measure And its result together. In such cases Example does the whole. Whoever is foremost Still leads the herd. An imitative creature Is man. The troops at Prague conceive no other, Than that the Pilsen army has gone through The forms of homage to us; and in Pilsen They shall swear fealty to us, because The example has been given them by Prague. Butler, you tell me, has declared himself?

ILLO. At his own bidding, unsolicited, He came to offer you himself and regiment.

WALLENSTEIN, I find we must not give implicit credence To every warning voice that makes itself Be listened to in the heart. To hold us back, Oft does the lying spirit counterfeit The voice of truth and inward revelation, Scattering false oracles. And thus have I To entreat forgiveness for that secretly. I've wronged this honorable gallant man, This Butler: for a feeling of the which I am not master (fear I would not call it), Creeps o'er me instantly, with sense of shuddering, At his approach, and stops love's joyous motion. And this same man, against whom I am warned, This honest man is he who reaches to me The first pledge of my fortune.

ILLO. And doubt not That his example will win over to you The best men in the army.

WALLENSTEIN. Go and send Isolani hither. Send him immediately. He is under recent obligations to me: With him will I commence the trial. Go.

[Exit ILLO.

WALLENSTEIN (turns himself round to the females). Lo, there's the mother with the darling daughter. For once we'll have an interval of rest— Come! my heart yearns to live a cloudless hour In the beloved circle of my family.

COUNTESS. 'Tis long since we've been thus together, brother.

WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS, aside). Can she sustain the news? Is she prepared?

COUNTESS. Not yet.

WALLENSTEIN. Come here, my sweet girl! Seat thee by me, For there is a good spirit on thy lips. Thy mother praised to me thy ready skill; She says a voice of melody dwells in thee, Which doth enchant the soul. Now such a voice Will drive away from me the evil demon That beats his black wings close above my head.

DUCHESS. Where is thy lute, my daughter? Let thy father Hear some small trial of thy skill.

THEKLA. My mother I——

DUCHESS. Trembling? Come, collect thyself. Go, cheer Thy father.

THEKLA. O my mother! I—I cannot.

COUNTESS. How, what is that, niece?

THEKLA (to the COUNTESS). O spare me—sing—now—in this sore anxiety, Of the overburdened soul—to sing to him Who is thrusting, even now, my mother headlong Into her grave.

DUCHESS. How, Thekla! Humorsome! What! shall thy father have expressed a wish In vain?

COUNTESS. Here is the lute.

THEKLA. My God! how can I——

[The orchestra plays. During the ritornello THEKLA expresses in her gestures and countenance the struggle of her feelings; and at the moment that she should begin to sing, contracts herself together, as one shuddering, throws the instrument down, and retires abruptly.

DUCHESS. My child! Oh, she is ill——

WALLENSTEIN. What ails the maiden? Say, is she often so?

COUNTESS. Since then herself Has now betrayed it, I too must no longer Conceal it.

WALLENSTEIN. What?

COUNTESS. She loves him!

WALLENSTEIN. Loves him? Whom?

COUNTESS. Max. does she love! Max. Piccolomini! Hast thou never noticed it? Nor yet my sister?

DUCHESS. Was it this that lay so heavy on her heart? God's blessing on thee,—my sweet child! Thou needest Never take shame upon thee for thy choice.

COUNTESS. This journey, if 'twere not thy aim, ascribe it To thine own self. Thou shouldst have chosen another To have attended her.

WALLENSTEIN. And does he know it?

COUNTESS. Yes, and he hopes to win her.

WALLENSTEIN. Hopes to win her! Is the boy mad?

COUNTESS. Well—hear it from themselves.

WALLENSTEIN. He thinks to carry off Duke Friedland's daughter! Ay? The thought pleases me. The young man has no groveling spirit.

COUNTESS. Since Such and such constant favor you have shown him——

WALLENSTEIN. He chooses finally to be my heir. And true it is, I love the youth; yea, honor him. But must he therefore be my daughter's husband? Is it daughters only? Is it only children That we must show our favor by?

DUCHESS. His noble disposition and his manners——

WALLENSTEIN. Win him my heart, but not my daughter.

DUCHESS. Then His rank, his ancestors——

WALLENSTEIN. Ancestors! What? He is a subject, and my son-in-law I will seek out upon the thrones of Europe.

DUCHESS O dearest Albrecht! Climb we not too high Lest we should fall too low.

WALLENSTEIN. What! have I paid A price so heavy to ascend this eminence, And jut out high above the common herd, Only to close the mighty part I play In life's great drama with a common kinsman? Have I for this—— [Stops suddenly, repressing himself. She is the only thing That will remain behind of me on earth; And I will see a crown around her head, Or die in the attempt to place it there. I hazard all—all! and for this alone, To lift her into greatness. Yea, in this moment, in the which we are speaking [He recollects himself. And I must now, like a soft-hearted father, Couple together in good peasant fashion The pair that chance to suit each other's liking— And I must do it now, even now, when I Am stretching out the wreath that is to twine My full accomplished work—no! she is the jewel, Which I have treasured long, my last, my noblest, And 'tis my purpose not to let her from me For less than a king's sceptre.

DUCHESS. O my husband! You're ever building, building to the clouds, Still building higher, and still higher building, And ne'er reflect, that the poor narrow basis Cannot sustain the giddy tottering column.

WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS). Have you announced the place of residence Which I have destined for her?

COUNTESS. No! not yet, 'Twere better you yourself disclosed it to her.

DUCHESS. How? Do we not return to Carinthia then?

WALLENSTEIN. No.

DUCHESS. And to no other of your lands or seats?

WALLENSTEIN. You would not be secure there.

DUCHESS. Not secure. In the emperor's realms, beneath the emperor's Protection?

WALLENSTEIN. Friedland's wife may be permitted No longer to hope that.

DUCHESS. O God in heaven! And have you brought it even to this!

WALLENSTEIN. In Holland You'll find protection.

DUCHESS In a Lutheran country? What? And you send us into Lutheran countries?

WALLENSTEIN. Duke Franz of Lauenburg conducts you thither.

DUCHESS. Duke Franz of Lauenburg? The ally of Sweden, the emperor's enemy.

WALLENSTEIN. The emperor's enemies are mine no longer.

DUCHESS (casting a look of terror on the DUKE and the COUNTESS). Is it then true? It is. You are degraded Deposed from the command? O God in heaven!

COUNTESS (aside to the DUKE). Leave her in this belief. Thou seest she cannot Support the real truth.



SCENE V.

To them enter COUNT TERZKY.

COUNTESS. Terzky! What ails him? What an image of affright! He looks as he had seen a ghost.

TERZKY (leading WALLENSTEIN aside). Is it thy command that all the Croats——

WALLENSTEIN. Mine!

TERZKY. We are betrayed.

WALLENSTEIN. What?

TERZKY. They are off! This night The Jaegers likewise—all the villages In the whole round are empty.

WALLENSTEIN. Isolani!

TERZKY. Him thou hast sent away. Yes, surely.

WALLENSTEIN. I?

TERZKY. No? Hast thou not sent him off? Nor Deodati? They are vanished, both of them.



SCENE VI.

To them enter ILLO.

ILLO. Has Terzky told thee?

TERZKY. He knows all.

ILLO. And likewise That Esterhatzy, Goetz, Maradas, Kaunitz, Kolatto, Palfi, have forsaken thee.

TERZKY. Damnation!

WALLENSTEIN (winks at them). Hush!

COUNTESS (who has been watching them anxiously from the distance and now advances to them). Terzky! Heaven! What is it? What has happened?

WALLENSTEIN (scarcely suppressing his emotions). Nothing! let us be gone!

TERZKY (following him). Theresa, it is nothing.

COUNTESS (holding him back). Nothing? Do I not see that all the life-blood Has left your cheeks—look you not like a ghost? That even my brother but affects a calmness?

PAGE (enters). An aide-de-camp inquires for the Count Terzky.

[TERZKY follows the PAGE.

WALLENSTEIN. Go, hear his business. [To ILLO. This could not have happened So unsuspected without mutiny. Who was on guard at the gates?

ILLO. 'Twas Tiefenbach.

WALLENSTEIN. Let Tiefenbach leave guard without delay, And Terzky's grenadiers relieve him. [ILLO is going. Stop! Hast thou heard aught of Butler?

ILLO. Him I met He will be here himself immediately. Butler remains unshaken,

[ILLO exit. WALLENSTEIN is following him.

COUNTESS. Let him not leave thee, sister! go, detain him! There's some misfortune.

DUCHESS (clinging to him). Gracious Heaven! What is it?

WALLENSTEIN. Be tranquil! leave me, sister! dearest wife! We are in camp, and this is naught unusual; Here storm and sunshine follow one another With rapid interchanges. These fierce spirits Champ the curb angrily, and never yet Did quiet bless the temples of the leader; If I am to stay go you. The plaints of women Ill suit the scene where men must act.

[He is going: TERZKY returns.

TERZKY. Remain here. From this window must we see it.

WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS). Sister, retire!

COUNTESS. No—never!

WALLENSTEIN. 'Tis my will.

TERZKY (leads the COUNTESS aside, and drawing her attention to the DUCHESS). Theresa!

DUCHESS. Sister, come! since he commands it.



SCENE VII.

WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY.

WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the window). What now, then?

TERZKY. There are strange movements among all the troops, And no one knows the cause. Mysteriously, With gloomy silentness, the several corps Marshal themselves, each under its own banners; Tiefenbach's corps make threatening movements; only The Pappenheimers still remain aloof In their own quarters and let no one enter.

WALLENSTEIN. Does Piccolomini appear among them?

TERZKY. We are seeking him: he is nowhere to be met with.

WALLENSTEIN. What did the aide-de-camp deliver to you?

TERZKY. My regiments had despatched him; yet once more They swear fidelity to thee, and wait The shout for onset, all prepared, and eager.

WALLENSTEIN. But whence arose this larum in the camp? It should have been kept secret from the army Till fortune had decided for us at Prague.

TERZKY. Oh, that thou hadst believed me! Yester-evening Did we conjure thee not to let that skulker, That fox, Octavio, pass the gates of Pilsen. Thou gavest him thy own horses to flee from thee.

WALLENSTEIN. The old tune still! Now, once for all, no more Of this suspicion—it is doting folly.

TERZKY. Thou didst confide in Isolani too; And lo! he was the first that did desert thee.

WALLENSTEIN. It was but yesterday I rescued him From abject wretchedness. Let that go by; I never reckoned yet on gratitude. And wherein doth he wrong in going from me? He follows still the god whom all his life He has worshipped at the gaming-table. With My fortune and my seeming destiny He made the bond and broke it, not with me. I am but the ship in which his hopes were stowed, And with the which, well-pleased and confident, He traversed the open sea; now he beholds it In eminent jeopardy among the coast-rocks, And hurries to preserve his wares. As light As the free bird from the hospitable twig Where it had nested he flies off from me: No human tie is snapped betwixt us two. Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived Who seeks a heart in the unthinking man. Like shadows on a stream, the forms of life Impress their characters on the smooth forehead, Naught sinks into the bosom's silent depth: Quick sensibility of pain and pleasure Moves the light fluids lightly; but no soul Warmeth the inner frame.

TERZKY. Yet, would I rather Trust the smooth brow than that deep furrowed one.



SCENE VIII.

WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, ILLO.

ILLO (who enters agitated with rage). Treason and mutiny!

TERZKY. And what further now?

ILLO. Tiefenbach's soldiers, when I gave the orders. To go off guard—mutinous villains!

TERZKY. Well!

WALLENSTEIN. What followed?

ILLO. They refused obedience to them.

TERZKY. Fire on them instantly! Give out the order.

WALLENSTEIN. Gently! what cause did they assign?

ILLO. No other, They said, had right to issue orders but Lieutenant-General Piccolomini.

WALLENSTEIN (in a convulsion of agony). What? How is that?

ILLO. He takes that office on him by commission, Under sign-manual from the emperor.

TERZKY. From the emperor—hearest thou, duke?

ILLO. At his incitement The generals made that stealthy flight——

TERZKY. Duke, hearest thou?

ILLO. Caraffa too, and Montecuculi, Are missing, with six other generals, All whom he had induced to follow him. This plot he has long had in writing by him From the emperor; but 'twas finally concluded, With all the detail of the operation, Some days ago with the Envoy Questenberg.

[WALLENSTEIN sinks down into a chair and covers his face.

TERZKY. Oh, hadst thou but believed me!

SCENE IX.

To them enter the COUNTESS.

COUNTESS. This suspense, This horrid fear—I can no longer bear it. For heaven's sake tell me what has taken place?

ILLO. The regiments are falling off from us.

TERZKY. Octavio Piccolomini is a traitor.

COUNTESS. O my foreboding!

[Rushes out of the room.

TERZKY. Hadst thou but believed me! Now seest thou how the stars have lied to thee.

WALLENSTEIN. The stars lie not; but we have here a work Wrought counter to the stars and destiny. The science is still honest: this false heart Forces a lie on the truth-telling heaven, On a divine law divination rests; Where nature deviates from that law, and stumbles Out of her limits, there all science errs. True I did not suspect! Were it superstition Never by such suspicion to have affronted The human form, oh, may the time ne'er come In which I shame me of the infirmity. The wildest savage drinks not with the victim, Into whose breast he means to plunge the sword. This, this, Octavio, was no hero's deed 'Twas not thy prudence that did conquer mine; A bad heart triumphed o'er an honest one. No shield received the assassin stroke; thou plungest Thy weapon on an unprotected breast— Against such weapons I am but a child.



SCENE X.

To these enter BUTLER.

TERZKY (meeting him). Oh, look there, Butler! Here we've still a friend!

WALLENSTEIN (meets him with outspread arms and embraces him with warmth). Come to my heart, old comrade! Not the sun Looks out upon us more revivingly, In the earliest month of spring, Than a friend's countenance in such an hour.

BUTLER. My general; I come——

WALLENSTEIN (leaning on BUTLER'S shoulder). Knowest thou already That old man has betrayed me to the emperor. What sayest thou? Thirty years have we together Lived out, and held out, sharing joy and hardship. We have slept in one camp-bed, drank from one glass, One morsel shared! I leaned myself on him, As now I lean me on thy faithful shoulder, And now in the very moment when, all love, All confidence, my bosom beat to his He sees and takes the advantage, stabs the knife Slowly into my heart.

[He hides his face on BUTLER's breast.

BUTLER. Forget the false one. What is your present purpose?

WALLENSTEIN. Well remembered! Courage, my soul! I am still rich in friends, Still loved by destiny; for in the moment That it unmasks the plotting hypocrite It sends and proves to me one faithful heart. Of the hypocrite no more! Think not his loss Was that which struck the pang: Oh, no! his treason Is that which strikes the pang! No more of him! Dear to my heart, and honored were they both, And the young man—yes—he did truly love me, He—he—has not deceived me. But enough, Enough of this—swift counsel now beseems us. The courier, whom Count Kinsky sent from Prague, I expect him every moment: and whatever He may bring with him we must take good care To keep it from the mutineers. Quick then! Despatch some messenger you can rely on To meet him, and conduct him to me.

[ILLO is going.

BUTLER (detaining him). My general, whom expect you then?

WALLENSTEIN. The courier Who brings me word of the event at Prague.

BUTLER (hesitating). Hem!

WALLENSTEIN. And what now?

BUTLER. You do not know it?

WALLENSTEIN. Well?

BUTLER. From what that larum in the camp arose?

WALLENSTEIN. From what?

BUTLER. That courier——

WALLENSTEIN (with eager expectation). Well?

BUTLER. Is already here.

TERZKY and ILLO (at the same time). Already here?

WALLENSTEIEN. My courier?

BUTLER. For some hours.

WALLENSTEIN. And I not know it?

BUTLER. The sentinels detain him In custody.

ILLO (stamping with his foot). Damnation!

BUTLER. And his letter Was broken open, and is circulated Through the whole camp.

WALLENSTEIN. You know what it contains?

BUTLER. Question me not.

TERZKY. Illo! Alas for us.

WALLENSTEIN. Hide nothing from me—I can bear the worst. Prague then is lost. It is. Confess it freely.

BUTLER. Yes! Prague is lost. And all the several regiments At Budweiss, Tabor, Braunau, Koenigingratz, At Brunn, and Znaym, have forsaken you, And taken the oaths of fealty anew To the emperor. Yourself, with Kinsky, Terzky, And Illo have been sentenced.

[TERZKY and ILLO express alarm and fury. WALLENSTEIN remains firm and collected.

WALLENSTEIN. 'Tis decided! 'Tis well! I have received a sudden cure From all the pangs of doubt: with steady stream Once more my life-blood flows! My soul's secure! In the night only Friedland stars can beam. Lingering irresolute, with fitful fears I drew the sword—'twas with an inward strife, While yet the choice was mine. The murderous knife Is lifted for my heart! Doubt disappears! I fight now for my head and for my life.

[Exit WALLENSTEIN; the others follow him.



SCENE XI.

COUNTESS TERZKY (enters from a side room). I can endure no longer. No! [Looks around her. Where are they! No one is here. They leave me all alone, Alone in this sore anguish of suspense. And I must wear the outward show of calmness Before my sister, and shut in within me The pangs and agonies of my crowded bosom. It is not to be borne. If all should fail; If—if he must go over to the Swedes, An empty-handed fugitive, and not As an ally, a covenanted equal, A proud commander with his army following, If we must wander on from land to land, Like the Count Palatine, of fallen greatness An ignominious monument. But no! That day I will not see! And could himself Endure to sink so low, I would not bear To see him so low sunken.



SCENE XII.

COUNTESS, DUCHESS, THEKLA.

THEKLA (endeavoring to hold back the DUCHESS) Dear mother, do stay here!

DUCHESS. No! Here is yet Some frightful mystery that is hidden from me. Why does my sister shun me? Don't I see her Full of suspense and anguish roam about From room to room? Art thou not full of terror? And what import these silent nods and gestures Which stealthwise thou exchangest with her?

THEKLA. Nothing Nothing, dear mother!

DUCHESS (to the COUNTESS). Sister, I will know.

COUNTESS. What boots it now to hide it from her? Sooner Or later she must learn to hear and bear it. 'Tis not the time now to indulge infirmity; Courage beseems us now, a heart collect, And exercise and previous discipline Of fortitude. One word, and over with it! Sister, you are deluded. You believe The duke has been deposed—the duke is not Deposed—he is——

THEKLA (going to the COUNTESS), What? do you wish to kill her?

COUNTESS. The duke is——

THEKLA (throwing her arms round her mother). Oh, stand firm! stand firm, my mother!

COUNTESS. Revolted is the duke; he is preparing To join the enemy; the army leave him, And all has failed.



SCENE XIII.

A spacious room in the Duke of Friedland's palace.

WALLENSTEIN (in armor). Thou hast gained thy point, Octavio! Once more am I Almost as friendless as at Regensburg. There I had nothing left me but myself; But what one man can do you have now experience. The twigs have you hewed off, and here I stand A leafless trunk. But in the sap within Lives the creating power, and a new world May sprout forth from it. Once already have I Proved myself worth an army to you—I alone! Before the Swedish strength your troops had melted; Beside the Lech sank Tilly, your last hope; Into Bavaria, like a winter torrent, Did that Gustavus pour, and at Vienna In his own palace did the emperor tremble. Soldiers were scarce, for still the multitude Follow the luck: all eyes were turned on me, Their helper in distress; the emperor's pride Bowed itself down before the man he had injured. 'Twas I must rise, and with creative word Assemble forces in the desolate camps. I did it. Like a god of war my name Went through the world. The drum was beat; and, to The plough, the workshop is forsaken, all Swarm to the old familiar long loved banners; And as the wood-choir rich in melody Assemble quick around the bird of wonder, When first his throat swells with his magic song, So did the warlike youth of Germany Crowd in around the image of my eagle. I feel myself the being that I was. It is the soul that builds itself a body, And Friedland's camp will not remain unfilled. Lead then your thousands out to meet me—true! They are accustomed under me to conquer, But not against me. If the head and limbs Separate from each other, 'twill be soon Made manifest in which the soul abode.

(ILLO and TERZKY enter.)

Courage, friends! courage! we are still unvanquished; I feel my footing firm; five regiments, Terzky, Are still our own, and Butler's gallant troops; And an host of sixteen thousand Swedes to-morrow. I was not stronger when, nine years ago, I marched forth, with glad heart and high of hope, To conquer Germany for the emperor.



SCENE XIV.

WALLENSTEIN, ILLO, TERZKY.

(To them enter NEUMANN, who leads TERZKY aside, and talks with him.)

TERZKY. What do they want?

WALLENSTEIN. What now?

TERZKY. Ten cuirassiers From Pappenheim request leave to address you In the name of the regiment.

WALLENSTEIN (hastily to NEUMANN). Let them enter. [Exit NEUMANN. This May end in something. Mark you. They are still Doubtful, and may be won.



SCENE XV.

WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, ILLO, ten CUIRASSIERS (led by an ANSPESSADE [4], march up and arrange themselves, after the word of command, in one front before the DUKE, and make their obeisance. He takes his hat off, and immediately covers himself again).

ANSPESSADE. Halt! Front! Present!

WALLENSTEIN (after he has run through them with his eye, to the NSPESSADE). I know thee well. Thou art out of Brueggen in Flanders: Thy name is Mercy.

ANSPESSADE. Henry Mercy.

WALLENSTEIN. Thou were cut off on the march, surrounded by the Hessians, and didst fight thy way with an hundred and eighty men through their thousand.

ANSPESSADE. 'Twas even so, general!

WALLENSTEIN. What reward hadst thou for this gallant exploit?

ANSPESSADE. That which I asked for: the honor to serve in this corps.

WALLENSTEIN (turning to a second). Thou wert among the volunteers that seized and made booty of the Swedish battery at Altenburg.

SECOND CUIRASSIER. Yes, general!

WALLENSTEIN. I forget no one with whom I have exchanged words. (A pause.) Who sends you?

ANSPESSADE. Your noble regiment, the cuirassiers of Piccolomini.

WALLENSTEIN. Why does not your colonel deliver in your request according to the custom of service?

ANSPESSADE. Because we would first know whom we serve.

WALLENSTEIN. Begin your address.

ANSPESSADE (giving the word of command). Shoulder your arms!

WALLENSTEIN (turning to a third). Thy name is Risbeck; Cologne is thy birthplace.

THIRD CUIRASSIER. Risbeck of Cologne.

WALLENSTEIN. It was thou that broughtest in the Swedish colonel Duebald, prisoner, in the camp at Nuremberg.

THIRD CUIRASSIER. It was not I, general.

WALLENSTRIN. Perfectly right! It was thy elder brother: thou hadst a younger brother, too: where did he stay?

THIRD CUIRASSIER. He is stationed at Olmutz, with the imperial army.

WALLENSTEIN (to the ANSPESSADE). Now then—begin.

ANSPESSADE. There came to hand a letter from the emperor Commanding us——

WALLENSTEIN (interrupting him). Who chose you?

ANSPESSADE. Every company Drew its own man by lot.

WALLENSTEIN. Now! to the business.

ANSPESSADE. There came to hand a letter from the emperor Commanding us, collectively, from thee All duties of obedience to withdraw, Because thou wert an enemy and traitor.

WALLENSTEIN. And what did you determine?

ANSPESSADE. All our comrades At Braunau, Budweiss, Prague, and Olmutz, have Obeyed already; and the regiments here, Tiefenbach and Toscano, instantly Did follow their example. But—but we Do not believe that thou art an enemy And traitor to thy country, hold it merely For lie and trick, and a trumped-up Spanish story! [With warmth. Thyself shall tell us what thy purpose is, For we have found thee still sincere and true No mouth shall interpose itself betwixt The gallant general and the gallant troops.

WALLENSTEIN. Therein I recognize my Pappenheimers.

ANSPESSADE. And this proposal makes thy regiment to thee: Is it thy purpose merely to preserve In thine own hands this military sceptre, Which so becomes thee, which the emperor Made over to thee by a covenant! Is it thy purpose merely to remain Supreme commander of the Austrian armies? We will stand by thee, general! and guarantee Thy honest rights against all opposition. And should it chance, that all the other regiments Turn from thee, by ourselves we will stand forth Thy faithful soldiers, and, as is our duty, Far rather let ourselves be cut to pieces Than suffer thee to fall. But if it be As the emperor's letter says, if it be true, That thou in traitorous wise wilt lead us over To the enemy, which God in heaven forbid! Then we too will forsake thee, and obey That letter——

WALLENSTEIN. Hear me, children!

ANSPESSADE. Yes, or no, There needs no other answer.

WALLENSTEIN. Yield attention. You're men of sense, examine for yourselves; Ye think, and do not follow with the herd: And therefore have I always shown you honor Above all others, suffered you to reason; Have treated you as free men, and my orders Were but the echoes of your prior suffrage.

ANSPESSADE. Most fair and noble has thy conduct been To us, my general! With thy confidence Thou has honored us, and shown us grace and favor Beyond all other regiments; and thou seest We follow not the common herd. We will Stand by thee faithfully. Speak but one word— Thy word shall satisfy us that it is not A treason which thou meditatest—that Thou meanest not to lead the army over To the enemy; nor e'er betray thy country.

WALLENSTEIN. Me, me are they betraying. The emperor Hath sacrificed me to my enemies, And I must fall, unless my gallant troops Will rescue me. See! I confide in you. And be your hearts my stronghold! At this breast The aim is taken, at this hoary head. This is your Spanish gratitude, this is our Requital for that murderous fight at Luetzen! For this we threw the naked breast against The halbert, made for this the frozen earth Our bed, and the hard stone our pillow! never stream Too rapid for us, nor wood too impervious; With cheerful spirit we pursued that Mansfeldt Through all the turns and windings of his flight: Yea, our whole life was but one restless march: And homeless, as the stirring wind, we travelled O'er the war-wasted earth. And now, even now, That we have well-nigh finished the hard toil, The unthankful, the curse-laden toil of weapons, With faithful indefatigable arm Have rolled the heavy war-load up the hill, Behold! this boy of the emperor's bears away The honors of the peace, an easy prize! He'll weave, forsooth, into his flaxen locks The olive branch, the hard-earned ornament Of this gray head, grown gray beneath the helmet.

ANSPESSADE. That shall he not, while we can hinder it! No one, but thou, who has conducted it With fame, shall end this war, this frightful war. Thou leadest us out to the bloody field Of death; thou and no other shalt conduct us home, Rejoicing, to the lovely plains of peace— Shalt share with us the fruits of the long toil.

WALLENSTEIN. What! Think you then at length in late old age To enjoy the fruits of toil? Believe it not. Never, no never, will you see the end Of the contest! you and me, and all of us, This war will swallow up! War, war, not peace, Is Austria's wish; and therefore, because I Endeavored after peace, therefore I fall. For what cares Austria how long the war Wears out the armies and lays waste the world! She will but wax and grow amid the ruin And still win new domains. [The CUIRASSIERS express agitation by their gestures. Ye're moved—I see A noble rage flash from your eyes, ye warriors! Oh, that my spirit might possess you now Daring as once it led you to the battle Ye would stand by me with your veteran arms, Protect me in my rights; and this is noble! But think not that you can accomplish it, Your scanty number! to no purpose will you Have sacrificed you for your general. [Confidentially. No! let us tread securely, seek for friends; The Swedes have proffered us assistance, let us Wear for a while the appearance of good-will, And use them for your profit, till we both Carry the fate of Europe in our hands, And from our camp to the glad jubilant world Lead peace forth with the garland on her head!

ANSPESSADE. 'Tis then but mere appearances which thou Dost put on with the Swede! Thou'lt not betray The emperor? Wilt not turn us into Swedes? This is the only thing which we desire To learn from thee.

WALLENSTEIN. What care I for the Swedes? I hate them as I hate the pit of hell, And under Providence I trust right soon To chase them to their homes across their Baltic. My cares are only for the whole: I have A heart—it bleeds within me for the miseries And piteous groanings of my fellow-Germans. Ye are but common men, but yet ye think With minds not common; ye appear to me Worthy before all others, that I whisper thee A little word or two in confidence! See now! already for full fifteen years, The war-torch has continued burning, yet No rest, no pause of conflict. Swede and German, Papist and Lutheran! neither will give way To the other; every hand's against the other. Each one is party and no one a judge. Where shall this end? Where's he that will unravel This tangle, ever tangling more and more It must be cut asunder. I feel that I am the man of destiny, And trust, with your assistance, to accomplish it.



SCENE XVI.

To these enter BUTLER.

BUTLER (passionately). General! this is not right!

WALLENSTEIN. What is not right?

BUTLER. It must needs injure us with all honest men.

WALLENSTEIN. But what?

BUTLER. It is an open proclamation Of insurrection.

WALLENSTEIN. Well, well—but what is it?

BUTLER. Count Terzky's regiments tear the imperial eagle From off his banners, and instead of it Have reared aloft their arms.

ANSPESSADE (abruptly to the CUIRASSIERS). Right about! March!

WALLENSTEIN. Cursed be this counsel, and accursed who gave it! [To the CUIRASSIERS, who are retiring. Halt, children, halt! There's some mistake in this; Hark! I will punish it severely. Stop They do not hear. (To ILLO). Go after them, assure them, And bring them back to me, cost what it may.

[ILLO hurries out.

This hurls us headlong. Butler! Butler! You are my evil genius, wherefore must you Announce it in their presence? It was all In a fair way. They were half won! those madmen With their improvident over-readiness— A cruel game is Fortune playing with me. The zeal of friends it is that razes me, And not the hate of enemies.



SCENE XVII.

To these enter the DUCHESS, who rushes into the chamber; THEKLA and the COUNTESS follow her.

DUCHESS. O Albrecht! What hast thou done?

WALLENSTEIN. And now comes this beside.

COUNTESS. Forgive me, brother! It was not in my power— They know all.

DUCHESS. What hast thou done?

COUNTESS (to TERZKY). Is there no hope? Is all lost utterly?

TERZKY. All lost. No hope. Prague in the emperor's hands, The soldiery have taken their oaths anew.

COUNTESS. That lurking hypocrite, Octavio! Count Max. is off too.

TERZKY. Where can he be? He's Gone over to the emperor with his father.

[THEKLA rushes out into the arms of her mother, hiding her face in her bosom.

DUCHESS (enfolding her in her arms). Unhappy child! and more unhappy mother!

WALLENSTEIN (aside to TERZKY). Quick! Let a carriage stand in readiness In the court behind the palace. Scherfenberg, Be their attendant; he is faithful to us. To Egra he'll conduct them, and we follow. [To ILLO, who returns. Thou hast not brought them back?

ILLO. Hear'st thou the uproar? The whole corps of the Pappenheimers is Drawn out: the younger Piccolomini, Their colonel, they require: for they affirm, That he is in the palace here, a prisoner; And if thou dost not instantly deliver him, They will find means to free him with the sword.

[All stand amazed.

TERZKY. What shall we make of this?

WALLENSTEIN. Said I not so? O my prophetic heart! he is still here. He has not betrayed me—he could not betray me. I never doubted of it.

COUNTESS. If he be Still here, then all goes well; for I know what [Embracing THEKLA. Will keep him here forever.

TERZKY. It can't be. His father has betrayed us, is gone over To the emperor—the son could not have ventured To stay behind.

THEKLA (her eye fixed on the door). There he is!



SCENE XVIII.

To these enter MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

MAX. Yes, here he is! I can endure no longer To creep on tiptoe round this house, and lurk In ambush for a favorable moment: This loitering, this suspense exceeds my powers.

[Advancing to THEKLA, who has thrown herself into her mother's arms.

Turn not thine eyes away. O look upon me! Confess it freely before all. Fear no one. Let who will hear that we both love each other. Wherefore continue to conceal it? Secrecy Is for the happy—misery, hopeless misery, Needeth no veil! Beneath a thousand suns It dares act openly.

[He observes the COUNTESS looking on THEKLA with expressions of triumph.

No, lady! No! Expect not, hope it not. I am not come To stay: to bid farewell, farewell forever. For this I come! 'Tis over! I must leave thee! Thekla, I must—must leave thee! Yet thy hatred Let me not take with me. I pray thee, grant me One look of sympathy, only one look. Say that thou dost not hate me. Say it to me, Thekla!

[Grasps her hand.

O God! I cannot leave this spot—I cannot! Cannot let go this hand. O tell me, Thekla! That thou dost suffer with me, art convinced That I cannot act otherwise.

[THEKLA, avoiding his look, points with her hand to her father. MAX. turns round to the DUKE, whom he had not till then perceived.

Thou here? It was not thou whom here I sought. I trusted never more to have beheld thee, My business is with her alone. Here will I Receive a full acquittal from this heart; For any other I am no more concerned.

WALLENSTEIN. Think'st thou that, fool-like, I shall let thee go, And act the mock-magnanimous with thee? Thy father is become a villain to me; I hold thee for his son, and nothing more Nor to no purpose shalt thou have been given Into my power. Think not, that I will honor That ancient love, which so remorselessly He mangled. They are now passed by, those hours Of friendship and forgiveness. Hate and vengeance Succeed—'tis now their turn—I too can throw All feelings of the man aside—can prove Myself as much a monster as thy father!

MAX (calmly). Thou wilt proceed with me as thou hast power. Thou knowest I neither brave nor fear thy rage. What has detained me here, that too thou knowest. [Taking THEKLA by the hand. See, duke! All—all would I have owed to thee, Would have received from thy paternal hand The lot of blessed spirits. That hast thou Laid waste forever—that concerns not thee. Indifferent thou tramplest in the dust Their happiness who most are thine. The god Whom thou dost serve is no benignant deity, Like as the blind, irreconcilable, Fierce element, incapable of compact. Thy heart's wild impulse only dost thou follow. [5]

WALLENSTEIN. Thou art describing thy own father's heart. The adder! Oh, the charms of hell o'erpowered me He dwelt within me, to my inmost soul Still to and fro he passed, suspected never. On the wide ocean, in the starry heaven Did mine eyes seek the enemy, whom I In my heart's heart had folded! Had I been To Ferdinand what Octavio was to me, War had I ne'er denounced against him. No, I never could have done it. The emperor was My austere master only, not my friend. There was already war 'twixt him and me When he delivered the commander's staff Into my hands; for there's a natural Unceasing war twixt cunning and suspicion; Peace exists only betwixt confidence And faith. Who poisons confidence, he murders The future generations.

MAX. I will not Defend my father. Woe is me, I cannot! Hard deeds and luckless have taken place; one crime Drags after it the other in close link. But we are innocent: how have we fallen Into this circle of mishap and guilt? To whom have we been faithless? Wherefore must The evil deeds and guilt reciprocal Of our two fathers twine like serpents round us? Why must our fathers' Unconquerable hate rend us asunder, Who love each other?

WALLENSTEIN. Max., remain with me. Go you not from me, Max.! Hark! I will tell thee—— How when at Prague, our winter quarters, thou Wert brought into my tent a tender boy, Not yet accustomed to the German winters; Thy hand was frozen to the heavy colors; Thou wouldst not let them go. At that time did I take thee in my arms, And with my mantle did I cover thee; I was thy nurse, no woman could have been A kinder to thee; I was not ashamed To do for thee all little offices, However strange to me; I tended thee Till life returned; and when thine eyes first opened, I had thee in my arms. Since then, when have Altered my feelings toward thee? Many thousands Have I made rich, presented them with lands; Rewarded them with dignities and honors; Thee have I loved: my heart, my self, I gave To thee; They all were aliens: thou wert Our child and inmate. [6] Max.! Thou canst not leave me; It cannot be; I may not, will not think That Max. can leave me.

MAX. Ob, my God!

WALLENSTEIN I have Held and sustained thee from thy tottering childhood. What holy bond is there of natural love, What human tie that does not knit thee to me? I love thee, Max.! What did thy father for thee, Which I too have not done, to the height of duty? Go hence, forsake me, serve thy emperor; He will reward thee with a pretty chain Of gold; with his ram's fleece will he reward thee; For that the friend, the father of thy youth, For that the holiest feeling of humanity, Was nothing worth to thee.

MAX. O God! how can I Do otherwise. Am I not forced to do it, My oath—my duty—my honor——

WALLENSTEIN. How? Thy duty? Duty to whom? Who art thou? Max.! bethink thee What duties may'st thou have? If I am acting A criminal part toward the emperor, It is my crime, not thine. Dost thou belong To thine own self? Art thou thine own commander? Stand'st thou, like me, a freeman in the world, That in thy actions thou shouldst plead free agency? On me thou art planted, I am thy emperor; To obey me, to belong to me, this is Thy honor, this a law of nature to thee! And if the planet on the which thou livest And hast thy dwelling, from its orbit starts. It is not in thy choice, whether or no Thou'lt follow it. Unfelt it whirls thee onward Together with his ring, and all his moons. With little guilt steppest thou into this contest; Thee will the world not censure, it will praise thee, For that thou held'st thy friend more worth to thee Than names and influences more removed For justice is the virtue of the ruler, Affection and fidelity the subject's. Not every one doth it beseem to question The far-off high Arcturus. Most securely Wilt thou pursue the nearest duty: let The pilot fix his eye upon the pole-star.



SCENE XIX.

To these enter NEUMANN.

WALLENSTEIN. What now?

NEUMANN. The Pappenheimers are dismounted, And are advancing now on foot, determined With sword in hand to storm the house, and free The count, their colonel.

WALLENSTEIN (to TERZKY). Have the cannon planted. I will receive them with chain-shot. [Exit TERZKY. Prescribe to me with sword in hand! Go, Neumann! 'Tis my command that they retreat this moment, And in their ranks in silence wait my pleasure.

[NEUMANN exit. ILLO steps to the window.

COUNTESS. Let him go, I entreat thee, let him go.

ILLO (at the window). Hell and perdition!

WALLENSTEIN. What is it?

ILLO. They scale the council-house, the roof's uncovered, They level at this house the cannon——

MAX. Madmen

ILLO. They are making preparations now to fire on us.

DUCHESS and COUNTESS. Merciful heaven!

MAX. (to WALLENSTEIN). Let me go to them!

WALLENSTEIN. Not a step!

MAX. (pointing to THEKLA and the DUCHESS). But their life! Thine!

WALLENSTEIN. What tidings bringest thou, Terzky?



SCENE XX.

To these TERZKY returning.

TERZKY. Message and greeting from our faithful regiments. Their ardor may no longer be curbed in. They entreat permission to commence the attack; And if thou wouldst but give the word of onset They could now charge the enemy in rear, Into the city wedge them, and with ease O'erpower them in the narrow streets.

ILLO. Oh come Let not their ardor cool. The soldiery Of Butler's corps stand by us faithfully; We are the greater number. Let us charge them And finish here in Pilsen the revolt.

WALLENSTEIN. 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 delivered 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 then! [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 skilled in war, thou hast learned 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 compelled; for though an enemy, Thy head is holy to me still,

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

WALLENSTEIN. What's that?

TERZBY. 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! Oh, 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——

WALLENSTEIN. Away! too long already have I loitered. 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-feared 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-swollen 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 seemed unblamable To my own conscience—and I must stand here Like one abhorred, 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. Oh, well and truly Didst thou say, father, I relied too much On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro— I know not what to do.

COUNTESS. What! you know not? Does not your own heart tell you? Oh! 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: Oh 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 mightest 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.

THEKLA. Oh! 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. Oh 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. Oh, 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. Whate'er thou hast 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 unblessed 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 scene 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?

TERZKY. Nay! he was not permitted Even to address them. Soon as he began, With deafening noise of warlike instruments They drowned 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.

WALLENSTEIN. The Governor of Egra is your friend And countryman. Write 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. Oh, do not turn Thine eyes away from me! Oh, once more show me Thy ever dear and honored 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 THERLA. WALLENSTEIN prevents him. MAX. stands irresolute, and in apparent anguish, In the meantime 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! Oh, 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. THERLA 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 acts.



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 further! From Bohemia Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile, And here upon the borders of Bohemia Must sink. Thou hast forsworn 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 meanest 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! Oh, 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 Opened 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 beamed 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 Weighed every syllable of approbation, As masters praise a servant who has done His duty and no more.