 | The Piccolomini : or, The First Part of Wallenstein |  |
ACT II
Scene I
Scene—A small Chamber.Illo and Tertsky.
Tertsky.
Now for this evening's business! How intend you
To manage with the generals at the banquet?
Illo.
Attend! We frame a formal declaration,
Wherein we to the Duke consign ourselves
Collectively, to be and to remain
His both with life and limb, and not to spare
The last drop of our blood for him, provided
So doing we infringe no oath nor duty,
We may be under to the Emperor.—Mark!
This reservation we expressly make
In a particular clause, and save the conscience.
Now hear! This formula so framed and worded
Will be presented to them for perusal
Before the banquet. No one will find in it
Cause of offence or scruple. Hear now further!
After the feast, when now the vap'ring wine
Opens the heart, and shuts the eyes, we let
A counterfeited paper, in the which
This one particular clause has been left out,
Go round for signatures.
Tertsky.
How? think you then
That they'll believe themselves bound by an oath,
Which we had tricked them into by a juggle?
Illo.
We shall have caught and caged them! Let them then
Beat their wings bare against the wires, and rave
Loud as they may against our treachery,
At court their signatures will be believed
Far more than their most holy affirmations.
Traitors they are, and must be; therefore wisely
Will make a virtue of necessity.
Tertsky.
Well, well, it shall content me; let but something
Be done, let only some decisive blow
Set us in motion.
Illo.
Besides, 'tis of subordinate importance
The generals. 'Tis enough that we persuade
The Duke, that they are his—Let him but act
In his determined mood, as if he had them,
And he will have them. Where he plunges in,
He makes a whirlpool, and all stream down to it.
Tertsky.
His policy is such a labyrinth,
That many a time when I have thought myself
Close at his side, he's gone at once, and left me
Ignorant of the ground where I was standing.
He lends the enemy his ear, permits me
To write to them, to Arnheim; to Sesina
Himself comes forward blank and undisguised;
Talks with us by the hour about his plans,
And when I think I have him—off at once—
He has slipped from me, and appears as if
He had no scheme, but to retain his place.
Illo.
He give up his old plans! I'll tell you, friend!
His soul is occupied with nothing else,
Even in his sleep—They are his thoughts, his dreams,
That day by day he questions for this purpose
The motions of the planets—
Tertsky.
Ay! you know
This night, that is now coming, he with Seni
Shuts himself up in the astrological tower
To make joint observations—for I hear,
It is to be a night of weight and crisis;
And something great, and of long expectation,
Is to make its procession in the heaven.
Illo.
Come! be we bold and make dispatch. The work
In this next day or two must thrive and grow
More than it has for years. And let but only
Things first turn up auspicious here below—
Mark what I say—the right stars too will shew themselves.
Come, to the generals. All is in the glow,
And must be beaten while 'tis malleable.
Tertsky.
Do you go thither, Illo. I must stay
And wait here for the Countess Tertsky. Know
That we too are not idle. Break one string,
A second is in readiness.
Illo.
Yes! Yes!
What's in the wind?
Tertsky.
A secret. Hush! she comes.
[Exit Illo.
Scene II
The Countess steps out from a Closet. Count and Countess Tertsky.Tertsky.
Well—is she coming?—I can keep him back
No longer.
Countess.
She will be there instantly.
You only send him.
Tertsky.
I am not quite certain,
I must confess it, Countess, whether or not
We are earning the Duke's thanks hereby. You know,
No ray has broken from him on this point.
You have o'er-ruled me, and yourself know best
How far you dare proceed.
Countess.
I take it on me.
[Talking to herself, while she is advancing.
Here's no need of full powers and commissions—
My cloudy Duke! we understand each other—
And without words. What, could I not unriddle,
Wherefore the daughter should be sent for hither,
Why first he, and no other, should be chosen
To fetch her hither! This sham of betrothing her
To a bridegroom, whom no one knows—No! no!—
This may blind others! I see through thee, Brother!
But it beseems thee not, to draw a card
At such a game. Not yet!—It all remains
Mutely delivered up to my finessing—
Well—thou shalt not have been deceived, Duke Friedland!
In her who is thy sister.—
Servant
(enters).
The commanders!
Tertsky
(to the Countess).
Take care you heat his fancy and affections—
Possess him with a reverie, and send him,
Absent and dreaming, to the banquet; that
He may not boggle at the signature.
Take you care of your guests!—Go, send him hither.
Tertsky.
All rests upon his undersigning.
Countess.
Go to your guests! Go—
Illo
(comes back).
Where art staying, Tertsky?
The house is full, and all expecting you.
Tertsky.
Instantly! Instantly!
[To the Countess.
And let him not
Stay here too long. It might awake suspicion
In the old man—
Countess.
A truce with your precautions!
[Exeunt Tertsky and Illo.
Scene III
Countess, Max Piccolomini.Max.
Aunt Tertsky? may I venture?
[Advances to the middle of the stage, and looks around him with uneasiness.
She's not here!
Where is she?
Countess.
Look but somewhat narrowly
In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie
Conceal'd behind that screen.
Max.
There lie her gloves!
[Snatches at them, but the Countess takes them herself.
You unkind Lady! You refuse me this—
You make it an amusement to torment me.
Countess.
And this the thanks you give me for my trouble?
Max.
O, if you felt the oppression at my heart!
Since we've been here, so to constrain myself—
With such poor stealth to hazard words and glances—
These, these are not my habits!
Countess.
You have still
Many new habits to acquire, young friend!
I must continue to insist; and only
On this condition can I play the agent
For your concerns.
Max.
But wherefore comes she not?
Where is she?
Countess.
Into my hands you must place it
Whole and entire. Whom could you find, indeed,
More zealously affected to your interest?
No soul on earth must know it—not your father.
He must not above all.
Max.
Alas! what danger?
Here is no face on which I might concentre
All the enraptured soul stirs up within me.
O Lady! tell me. Is all changed around me?
Or is it only I?
I find myself,
As among strangers! Not a trace is left
Of all my former wishes, former joys.
Where has it vanished to? There was a time
When even, methought, with such a world as this
I was not discontented. Now how flat!
How stale! No life, no bloom, no flavour in it!
My comrades are intolerable to me.
My father—Even to him I can say nothing.
My arms, my military duties—O!
They are such wearying toys!
Countess.
But, gentle friend!
I must entreat it of your condescension,
You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favour
With one short glance or two this poor stale world,
Where even now much, and of much moment,
Is on the eve of its completion.
Max.
Something,
I can't but know, is going forward round me.
I see it gathering, crowding, driving on,
In wild uncustomary movements. Well,
In due time, doubtless, it will reach even me.
Where think you I have been, dear lady? Nay,
No raillery. The turmoil of the camp,
The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in,
The pointless jest, the empty conversation,
I could not breathe—I was constrain'd to fly,
To seek a silence out for my full heart;
And a pure spot wherein to feel my happiness.
No smiling, Countess! In the church was I.
There is a cloister here to the heaven's gate,
Thither I went, there found myself alone.
Over the altar hung a holy mother;
A wretched painting 'twas, yet 'twas the friend
That I was seeking in this moment. Ah,
How oft have I beheld that glorious form
In splendour, mid ecstatic worshippers;
Yet, still it moved me not! and now at once
Was my devotion cloudless as my love.
Countess.
Enjoy your fortune and felicity!
Forget the world around you. Meantime, friendship
Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active.
Only be manageable when that friendship
Points you the road to full accomplishment.
How long may it be since you declared your passion?
Max.
This morning did I hazard the first word.
Countess.
This morning the first time in twenty days?
Max.
'Twas at that hunting-castle, betwixt here
And Nepomuck, where you had joined us, and—
That was the last relay of the whole journey!
In a balcony we were standing mute,
And gazing out upon the dreary field:
Before us the dragoons were riding onward,
The safe-guard which the Duke had sent us—heavy
The inquietude of parting lay upon me,
And trembling ventured I at length these words:
This all reminds me, noble maiden, that
To-day I must take leave of my good fortune.
A few hours more, and you will find a father,
Will see yourself surrounded by new friends,
And I henceforth shall be but as a stranger,
Lost in the many—‘Speak with my aunt Tertsky!’
With hurrying voice she interrupted me.
Possess her beautiful cheeks, and from the ground
Raised slowly up her eye met mine—no longer
Did I control myself.
[The Princess Thekla appears at the door, and remains standing, observed by the Countess, but not by Piccolomini.
With instant boldness
I caught her in my arms, my mouth touched hers;
There was a rustling in the room close by;
It parted us—'Twas you. What since has happened,
You know.
Countess.
And is it your excess of modesty;
Or are you so incurious, that you do not
Ask me too of my secret?
Max.
Of your secret?
Countess.
Why, yes! When in the instant after you
I stepped into the room, and found my niece there,
What she in this first moment of the heart
Ta'en with surprise—
Max.
Well?
Scene IV
Thekla (hurries forward), Countess, Max Piccolomini.Thekla
(to the Countess).
Spare yourself the trouble:
That hears he better from myself.
Max.
My Princess!
What have you let her hear me say, aunt Tertsky?
Thekla
(to the Countess).
Has he been here long?
Countess.
Yes; and soon must go.
Where have you stayed so long?
Thekla.
Alas! my mother
Wept so again! and I—I see her suffer,
Yet cannot keep myself from being happy.
Max.
Now once again I have courage to look on you.
To-day at noon I could not.
The dazzle of the jewels that play'd round you
Hid the beloved from me.
Thekla.
Then you saw me
Max.
This morning, when I found you in the circle
Of all your kindred, in your father's arms,
Beheld myself an alien in this circle,
O! what an impulse felt I in that moment
To fall upon his neck, to call him father!
But his stern eye o'erpowered the swelling passion—
It dared not but be silent. And those brilliants,
That like a crown of stars enwreathed your brows,
They scared me too! O wherefore, wherefore should he
At the first meeting spread as 'twere the ban
Of excommunication round you, wherefore
Dress up the angel as for sacrifice,
And cast upon the light and joyous heart
The mournful burthen of his station? Fitly
May love dare woo for love; but such a splendour
Might none but monarchs venture to approach.
Thekla.
Hush! not a word more of this mummery.
You see how soon the burthen is thrown off.
[To the Countess.
He is not in spirits. Wherefore is he not?
'Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy!
He had quite another nature on the journey—
So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent.
[To Max.
It was my wish to see you always so,
And never otherwise!
Max.
You find yourself
In your great father's arms, belovéd lady!
All in a new world, which does homage to you,
And which, wer't only by its novelty,
Delights your eye.
Thekla.
Yes; I confess to you
That many things delight me here: this camp,
This motley stage of warriors, which renews
So manifold the image of my fancy,
And binds to life, binds to reality,
What hitherto had but been present to me
As a sweet dream!
Max.
Alas! not so to me.
It makes a dream of my reality.
Upon some island in the ethereal heights
I've lived for these last days. This mass of men
That, reconducting to my former life,
Divides me and my heaven.
Thekla.
The game of life
Looks cheerful, when one carries in one's heart
The inalienable treasure. 'Tis a game,
Which having once reviewed, I turn more joyous
Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss.
In this short time that I've been present here,
What new unheard-of things have I not seen!
And yet they all must give place to the wonder
Which this mysterious castle guards.
Countess.
And what
Can this be then? Methought I was acquainted
With all the dusky corners of this house.
Thekla.
Ay, but the road thereto is watched by spirits,
Two griffins still stand sentry at the door.
Countess
(laughs).
The astrological tower!—How happens it
That this same sanctuary, whose access
Is to all others so impracticable,
Opens before you even at your approach?
Thekla.
A dwarfish old man with a friendly face
And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services
Were mine at first sight, opened me the doors.
Max.
That is the Duke's astrologer, old Seni.
Thekla.
He questioned me on many points; for instance,
When I was born, what month, and on what day,
Whether by day or in the night.
Countess.
He wished
To erect a figure for your horoscope.
Thekla.
My hand too he examined, shook his head
With much sad meaning, and the lines methought,
Did not square over truly with his wishes.
Countess.
Well, Princess, and what found you in this tower?
My highest privilege has been to snatch
A side-glance, and away!
Thekla.
It was a strange
From the broad sunshine I stepped in; and now
The narrowing line of day-light, that ran after
The closing door, was gone; and all about me
'Twas pale and dusky night, with many shadows
Fantastically cast. Here six or seven
Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me
In a half-circle. Each one in his hand
A sceptre bore, and on his head a star;
And in the tower no other light was there
But from these stars: all seemed to come from them.
‘These are the planets,’ said that low old man,
‘They govern worldly fates, and for that cause
Are imaged here as kings. He farthest from you,
Spiteful, and cold, an old man melancholy,
With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn.
He opposite, the king with the red light,
An arm'd man for the battle, that is Mars:
And both these bring but little luck to man.’
But at his side a lovely lady stood,
The star upon her head was soft and bright,
And that was Venus, the bright star of joy.
On the left hand, lo! Mercury, with wings.
Quite in the middle glittered silver-bright
A cheerful man, and with a monarch's mien;
And this was Jupiter, my father's star:
And at his side I saw the Sun and Moon.
Max.
O never rudely will I blame his faith
In the might of stars and angels! 'Tis not merely
The human being's Pride that peoples space
With life and mystical predominance;
Since likewise for the stricken heart of Love
This visible nature, and this common world,
Is all too narrow: yea, a deeper import
Lurks in the legend told my infant years
Than lies upon that truth, we live to learn.
For fable is Love's world, his home, his birth-place;
Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans,
And spirits; and delightedly believes
Divinities, being himself divine.
The fair humanities of old religion,
The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty,
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
Or chasms and wat'ry depths; all these have vanished.
They live no longer in the faith of reason!
But still the heart doth need a language, still
Doth the old instinct bring back the old names,
And to yon starry world they now are gone,
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
With man as with their friend; and to the lover
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
Shoot influence down: and even at this day
'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
And Venus who brings every thing that's fair!
Thekla.
And if this be the science of the stars,
I too, with glad and zealous industry,
Will learn acquaintance with this cheerful faith.
It is a gentle and affectionate thought,
That in immeasurable heights above us,
At our first birth, the wreath of love was woven,
With sparkling stars for flowers.
Countess.
Not only roses,
But thorns too hath the heaven; and well for you
Leave they your wreath of love inviolate;
What Venus twined, the bearer of glad fortune,
The sullen orb of Mars soon tears to pieces.
Max.
Soon will his gloomy empire reach its close.
Blest be the General's zeal: into the laurel
Will he inweave the olive-branch, presenting
Peace to the shouting nations. Then no wish
Will have remained for his great heart! Enough
Has he performed for glory, and can now
Live for himself and his. To his domains
Will he retire; he has a stately seat
Of fairest view at Gitschin; Reichenberg,
And Friedland Castle, both lie pleasantly—
Stretches the chase and covers of his forests:
His ruling passion, to create the splendid,
He can indulge without restraint; can give
A princely patronage to every art,
And to all worth a Sovereign's protection.
Can build, can plant, can watch the starry courses—
Countess.
Yet I would have you look, and look again,
Before you lay aside your arms, young friend!
A gentle bride, as she is, is well worth it,
That you should woo and win her with the sword.
Max.
O, that the sword could win her!
Countess.
What was that?
Did you hear nothing? Seem'd, as if I heard
Tumult and larum in the banquet-room.
[Exit Countess.
Scene V
Thekla and Max Piccolomini.Thekla
(as soon as the Countess is out of sight, in a quick low voice to Piccolomini).
Don't trust them! They are false!
Max.
Impossible!
Thekla.
Trust no one here but me. I saw at once,
They had a purpose.
Max.
Purpose! but what purpose?
And how can we be instrumental to it?
Thekla.
I know no more than you; but yet believe me:
There's some design in this! to make us happy,
To realize our union—trust me, love!
They but pretend to wish it.
Max.
But these Tertskys—
Why use we them at all? Why not your mother?
Excellent creature! she deserves from us
A full and filial confidence.
Thekla.
She doth love you,
Doth rate you high before all others—but—
But such a secret—she would never have
The courage to conceal it from my father.
For her own peace of mind we must preserve it
A secret from her too.
Max.
Why any secret?
I love not secrets. Mark, what I will do.
Decide upon my fortunes!—He is true,
He wears no mask—he hates all crooked ways—
He is so good, so noble!
Thekla
(falls on his neck).
That are you!
Max.
You knew him only since this morn; but I
Have liv'd ten years already in his presence,
And who knows whether in this very moment
He is not merely waiting for us both
To own our loves, in order to unite us.
You are silent!—
You look at me with such a hopelessness!
What have you to object against your father?
Thekla.
I? Nothing. Only he's so occupied—
He has no leisure time to think about
The happiness of us two.
[Taking his hand tenderly.
Follow me!
Let us not place too great a faith in men.
These Tertskys—we will still be grateful to them
For every kindness, but not trust them further
Than they deserve;—and in all else rely—
On our own hearts!
Max.
O! shall we e'er be happy?
Thekla.
Are we not happy now? Art thou not mine?
Am I not thine? There lives within my soul
A lofty courage—'tis love gives it me!
I ought to be less open—ought to hide
My heart more from thee—so decorum dictates:
But where in this place could'st thou seek for truth,
If in my mouth thou did'st not find it?
Scene VI
To them enters the Countess Tertsky.Countess.
Come!
My husband sends me for you—It is now
Part you!
Thekla.
O, not yet!
It has been scarce a moment.
Countess.
Aye! Then time
Flies swiftly with your Highness, Princess niece!
Max.
There is no hurry, aunt.
Countess.
Away! Away!
The folks begin to miss you. Twice already
His father has asked for him.
Thekla.
Ha! his father?
Countess.
You understand that, niece!
Thekla.
Why needs he
To go at all to that society?
'Tis not his proper company. They may
Be worthy men, but he's too young for them.
In brief, he suits not such society.
Countess.
You mean, you'd rather keep him wholly here?
Thekla.
Yes! you have hit it, aunt! That is my meaning.
Leave him here wholly! Tell the company—
Countess.
What? have you lost your senses, niece?—
Count, you remember the conditions. Come!
Max
(to Thekla).
Lady, I must obey. Farewell, dear lady!
[Thekla turns away from him with a quick motion.
What say you then, dear lady?
Thekla
(without looking at him).
Nothing. Go!
Max.
Can I, when you are angry—
[He draws up to her, their eyes meet, she stands silent a moment, then throws herself into his arms; he presses her fast to his heart.
Countess.
Off! Heavens! if any one should come!
Hark! What's that noise? It comes this way.—Off!
[Max tears himself away out of her arms, and goes. The Countess accompanies him. Thekla follows him with her eyes at first, walks restlessly across the room, then stops, and remains standing, lost in thought. A guitar lies on the table, she seizes it as by a sudden emotion, and after she has played a while an irregular and melancholy symphony, she falls gradually into the music and sings.
(plays and sings).
The damsel paces along the shore;
The billows they tumble with might, with might;
And she flings out her voice to the darksome night;
Her bosom is swelling with sorrow;
There's nothing to wish for beneath the sky:
Thou Holy One, call thy child away!
I've lived and loved, and that was to-day—
Make ready my grave-clothes to-morrow.
Scene VII
Countess (returns), Thekla.Countess.
Fie, lady niece! to throw yourself upon him,
Like a poor gift to one who cares not for it,
And so must be flung after him! For you,
Duke Friedland's only child, I should have thought
It had been more beseeming to have shewn yourself
More chary of your person.
Thekla.
And what mean you?
Countess.
I mean, niece, that you should not have forgotten
Who you are, and who he is. But perchance
That never once occurred to you.
Thekla.
What then?
Countess.
That you're the daughter of the Prince-Duke Friedland.
Thekla.
Well—and what farther?
Countess.
What? a pretty question!
Thekla.
He was born that which we have but become.
He's of an ancient Lombard family,
Son of a reigning princess.
Countess.
Are you dreaming?
Talking in sleep? An excellent jest, forsooth!
We shall no doubt right courteously entreat him
To honour with his hand the richest heiress
In Europe.
Thekla.
That will not be necessary.
Countess.
Methinks 'twere well though not to run the hazard.
His father loves him, Count Octavio
Will interpose no difficulty—
Countess.
His!
His father! his! But yours, niece, what of yours?
Thekla.
Why I begin to think you fear his father,
So anxiously you hide it from the man!
His father, his, I mean.
Countess
(looks at her).
Niece, you are false.
Thekla.
Are you then wounded? O, be friends with me!
Countess.
You hold your game for won already. Do not
Triumph too soon!—
Thekla.
Nay now, be friends with me.
Countess.
It is not yet so far gone.
Thekla.
I believe you.
Countess.
Did you suppose your father had laid out
His most important life in toils of war,
Denied himself each quiet earthly bliss,
Had banished slumber from his tent, devoted
His noble head to care, and for this only,
To make a happy pair of you? At length
To draw you from your convent, and conduct
In easy triumph to your arms the man
That chanc'd to please your eyes! All this, methinks,
He might have purchased at a cheaper rate.
Thekla.
That which he did not plant for me might yet
Bear me fair fruitage of its own accord.
And if my friendly and affectionate fate,
Out of his fearful and enormous being,
Will but prepare the joys of life for me—
Countess.
Thou seest it with a love-lorn maiden's eyes.
Cast thine eye round, bethink thee who thou art.
Into no house of joyance hast thou stepped,
For no espousals dost thou find the walls
Deck'd out, no guests the nuptial garland wearing.
Here is no splendour but of arms. Or think'st thou
That all these thousands are here congregated
To lead up the long dances at thy wedding?
Thou see'st thy father's forehead full of thought,
Lies the great destiny of all our house.
Leave now the puny wish, the girlish feeling,
O thrust it far behind thee! Give thou proof,
Thou'rt the daughter of the Mighty—his
Who where he moves creates the wonderful.
Not to herself the woman must belong,
Annexed and bound to alien destinies.
But she performs the best part, she the wisest,
Who can transmute the alien into self,
Meet and disarm necessity by choice;
And what must be, take freely to her heart,
And bear and foster it with mother's love.
Thekla.
Such ever was my lesson in the convent.
I had no loves, no wishes, knew myself
Only as his—his daughter—his, the Mighty!
His fame, the echo of whose blast drove to me
From the far distance, wakened in my soul
No other thought than this—I am appointed
To offer up myself in passiveness to him.
Countess.
That is thy fate. Mould thou thy wishes to it.
I and thy mother gave thee the example.
Thekla.
My fate hath shewn me him, to whom behoves it
That I should offer up myself. In gladness
Him will I follow.
Countess.
Not thy fate hath shewn him!
Thy heart, say rather—'twas thy heart, my child!
Thekla.
Fate hath no voice but the heart's impulses.
I am all his! His Present—his alone,
Is this new life, which lives in me. He hath
A right to his own creature. What was I
Ere his fair love infused a soul into me?
Countess.
Thou would'st oppose thy father then, should he
Have otherwise determined with thy person?
[Thekla remains silent. The Countess continues.
Thou mean'st to force him to thy liking?—Child,
His name is Friedland.
Thekla.
My name too is Friedland.
He shall have found a genuine daughter in me.
Countess.
What? he has vanquished all impediment,
And in the wilful mood of his own daughter
As yet thou hast seen thy father's smiles alone;
The eye of his rage thou hast not seen. Dear child,
I will not frighten thee. To that extreme,
I trust, it ne'er shall come. His will is yet
Unknown to me: 'tis possible his aims
May have the same direction as thy wish.
But this can never, never be his will,
That thou, the daughter of his haughty fortunes,
Should'st e'er demean thee as a love-sick maiden;
And like some poor cost-nothing, fling thyself
Toward the man, who, if that high prize ever
Be destined to await him, yet, with sacrifices
The highest love can bring, must pay for it.
[Exit Countess.
Thekla.
I thank thee for the hint. It turns
My sad presentiment to certainty.
And it is so!—Not one friend have we here,
Not one true heart! we've nothing but ourselves!
O she said rightly—no auspicious signs
Beam on this covenant of our affections.
This is no theatre, where hope abides.
The dull thick noise of war alone stirs here.
And love himself, as he were armed in steel,
Steps forth, and girds him for the strife of death.
[Music from the banquet-room is heard.
There's a dark spirit walking in our house,
And swiftly will the Destiny close on us.
It drove me hither from my calm asylum,
It mocks my soul with charming witchery,
It lures me forward in a seraph's shape,
I see it near, I see it nearer floating,
It draws, it pulls me with a god-like power—
And lo! the abyss—and thither am I moving—
I have no power within me not to move!
[The music from the banquet-room becomes louder.
O when a house is doomed in fire to perish,
Many a dark heaven drives his clouds together,
Yea, shoots his lightnings down from sunny heights,
Flames burst from out the subterraneous chasms,
Sling fire-brands at the burning edifice.
[Exit Thekla.
Scene VIII
A large Saloon lighted up with festal Splendour; in the midst of it, and in the Centre of the Stage, a Table richly set out, at which eight Generals are sitting, among whom are Octavio Piccolomini, Tertsky, and Maradas. Right and left of this, but farther back, two other Tables, at each of which six Persons are placed. The Middle Door, which is standing open, gives to the Prospect a Fourth Table, with the same Number of Persons. More forward stands the sideboard. The whole front of the Stage is kept open for the Pages and Servants in waiting. All is in Motion. The Band of Music belonging to Tertsky's Regiment march across the Stage, and draw up round the Tables. Before they are quite off from the Front of the Stage, Max Piccolomini appears, Tertsky advances towards him with a Paper, Isolani comes up to meet him with a Beaker or Service-cup.Tertsky, Isolani, Max Piccolomini.
Isolani.
Here brother, what we love! Why, where hast been?
Off to thy place—quick! Tertsky here has given
The mother's holiday wine up to free booty.
Here it goes on as at the Heidelberg castle.
Already hast thou lost the best. They're giving
At yonder table ducal crowns in shares;
There's Sternberg's lands and chattels are put up,
With Egenberg's, Stawata's, Lichtenstein's,
And all the great Bohemian feodalities.
Be nimble, lad! and something may turn up
Tiefenbach and Goetz
(call out from the second and third tables).
Count Piccolomini!
Tertsky.
Stop, ye shall have him in an instant.—Read
This oath here, whether as 'tis here set forth,
The wording satisfies you. They've all read it,
Each in his turn, and each one will subscribe
His individual signature.
Max
(reads).
‘Ingratis servire nefas.’
Isolani.
That sounds to my ears very much like Latin,
And being interpreted, pray what may't mean?
Tertsky.
No honest man will serve a thankless master.
Max.
‘Inasmuch as our supreme Commander, the illustrious
Duke of Friedland, in consequence of the manifold affronts and
grievances which he has received, had expressed his determination
to quit the Emperor, but on our unanimous entreaty has
graciously consented to remain still with the army, and not to
part from us without our approbation thereof, so we, collectively
and each in particular, in the stead of an oath personally taken,
do hereby oblige ourselves—likewise by him honourably and
faithfully to hold, and in nowise whatsoever from him to
part, and to be ready to shed for his interests the last drop of
our blood, so far, namely, as our oath to the Emperor will permit
it. (These last words are repeated by Isolani.) In testimony of
which we subscribe our names.’
Tertsky.
Now!—are you willing to subscribe this paper?
Isolani.
Why should he not? All officers of honour
Can do it, aye, must do it.—Pen and ink here!
Tertsky.
Nay, let it rest till after meal.
Isolani
(drawing Max along).
Come, Max.
[Both seat themselves at their table.
Scene IX
Tertsky, Neumann.Tertsky
(beckons to Neumann who is waiting at the side-table, and steps forward with him to the edge of the stage).
Have you the copy with you, Neumann? Give it.
It may be changed for the other?
Neumann.
I have copied it.
Letter by letter, line by line; no eye
Would e'er discover other difference,
Save only the omission of that clause,
Tertsky.
Right! lay it yonder, and away with this—
It has performed its business—to the fire with it—
Neumann lays the copy on the table and steps back again to the side-table.
Scene X
Illo (comes out from the second chamber), Tertsky.Illo.
How goes it with young Piccolomini?
Tertsky.
All right, I think. He has started no objection.
Illo.
He is the only one I fear about—
He and his father. Have an eye on both!
Tertsky.
How looks it at your table: you forget not
To keep them warm and stirring?
Illo.
O, quite cordial,
They are quite cordial in the scheme. We have them.
And 'tis as I predicted too. Already
It is the talk, not merely to maintain
The Duke in station. ‘Since we're once for all
Together and unanimous, why not,’
Says Montecuculi, ‘aye, why not onward,
And make conditions with the Emperor
There in his own Vienna?’ Trust me, Count,
Were it not for these said Piccolomini,
We might have spared ourselves the cheat.
Tertsky.
And Butler?
How goes it there? Hush!
Scene XI
To them enter Butler from the second table.Butler.
Don't disturb yourselves.
Field Marshal, I have understood you perfectly.
Good luck be to the scheme; and as to me,
You may depend upon me.
Illo.
May we, Butler?
Butler.
With or without the clause, all one to me!
You understand me? My fidelity
The Duke may put to any proof—I'm with him!
Tell him so! I'm the Emperor's officer,
As long as 'tis his pleasure to remain
As soon as it shall please him to become
His own lord.
Tertsky.
You would make a good exchange.
No stern economist, no Ferdinand,
Is he to whom you plight your services.
Butler.
I do not put up my fidelity
To sale, Count Tertsky! Half a year ago
I would not have advised you to have made me
An overture to that, to which I now
Offer myself of my own free accord.—
But that is past! and to the Duke, Field Marshal,
I bring myself together with my regiment.
And mark you, 'tis my humour to believe,
The example which I give will not remain
Without an influence.
Illo.
Who is ignorant,
That the whole army look to Colonel Butler,
As to a light that moves before them?
Butler.
Ey?
Then I repent me not of that fidelity
Which for the length of forty years I held,
If in my sixtieth year my old good name
Can purchase for me a revenge so full.
Start not at what I say, sir Generals!
My real motives—they concern not you.
And you yourselves, I trust, could not expect
That this your game had crooked my judgment—or
That fickleness, quick blood, or such light cause,
Had driven the old man from the track of honour,
Which he so long had trodden.—Come, my friends!
I'm not thereto determined with less firmness,
Because I know and have looked steadily
At that on which I have determined.
Illo.
Say,
And speak roundly, what are we to deem you?
Butler.
A friend! I give you here my hand! I'm yours
With all I have. Not only men, but money
Will the Duke want.—Go, tell him, sirs!
I've earned and laid up somewhat in his service,
It has been already long ago bequeathed him.
He is my heir. For me, I stand alone,
Here in the world; nought know I of the feeling
That binds the husband to a wife and children.
My name dies with me, my existence ends.
Illo.
'Tis not your money that he needs—a heart
Like yours weighs tons of gold down, weighs down millions!
Butler.
I came a simple soldier's boy from Ireland
To Prague—and with a master, whom I buried.
From lowest stable-duty I climbed up,
Such was the fate of war, to this high rank,
The plaything of a whimsical good fortune.
And Wallenstein too is a child of luck,
I love a fortune that is like my own.
Illo.
All powerful souls have kindred with each other.
Butler.
This is an awful moment! to the brave,
To the determined, an auspicious moment.
The Prince of Weimar arms, upon the Maine
To found a mighty dukedom. He of Halberstadt,
That Mansfeld, wanted but a longer life
To have marked out with his good sword a lordship
That should reward his courage. Who of these
Equals our Friedland? there is nothing, nothing
So high, but he may set the ladder to it!
Tertsky.
That's spoken like a man!
Butler.
Do you secure the Spaniard and Italian—
I'll be your warrant for the Scotchman Lesly.
Come! to the company!
Tertsky.
Where is the master of the cellar? Ho!
Let the best wines come up. Ho! cheerly, boy!
Luck comes to-day, so give her hearty welcome.
[Exeunt, each to his table.
Scene XII
The Master of the Cellar advancing with Neumann, Servants passing backwards and forwards.Master of the Cellar.
The best wine! O! if my old mistress,
his lady mother, could but see these wild goings on, she
would turn herself round in her grave. Yes, yes, sir officer!
'tis all down the hill with this noble house! no end, no
connection, a very splendid connection! but I tell you,
sir officer, it bodes no good.
Neumann.
Heaven forbid! Why, at this very moment the
whole prospect is in bud and blossom!
Master of the Cellar.
You think so?—Well, well! much
may be said on that head.
First Servant
(comes).
Burgundy for the fourth table.
Master of the Cellar.
Now, sir lieutenant, if this isn't the
seventieth flask—
First Servant.
Why, the reason is, that German lord, Tiefenbach,
sits at that table.
Master of the Cellar
(continuing his discourse to Neumann).
They are soaring too high. They would rival kings and
electors in their pomp and splendour; and wherever the
Duke leaps, not a minute does my gracious master, the
Count, loiter on the brink—(To the Servants)
—What do
you stand there listening for? I will let you know you have
legs presently. Off! see to the tables, see to the flasks!
Look there! Count Palfi has an empty glass before him!
Runner
(comes).
The great service-cup is wanted, sir; that
rich gold cup with the Bohemian arms on it. The Count
says you know which it is.
Master of the Cellar.
Ay! that was made for Frederick's
coronation by the artist William—there was not such
another prize in the whole booty at Prague.
Runner.
The same!—a health is to go round in him.
Master of the Cellar.
This will be something for the talebearers
—this goes to Vienna.
Neumann.
Permit me to look at it.—Well, this is a cup
indeed! How heavy! as well it may be, being all gold.—
And what neat things are embossed on it! how natural
and elegant they look! There, on that first quarter, let me
see. That proud Amazon there on horseback, she that is
taking a leap over the crosier and mitres, and carries on a
wand a hat together with a banner, on which there's
a goblet represented. Can you tell me what all this signifies?
Master of the Cellar.
The woman whom you see there on
horseback, is the Free Election of the Bohemian Crown.
That is signified by the round hat, and by that fiery steed
on which she is riding. The hat is the pride of man; for
is no free man.
Neumann.
But what is the cup there on the banner?
Master of the Cellar.
The cup signifies the freedom of the
Bohemian Church, as it was in our forefathers' times. Our
forefathers in the wars of the Hussites forced from the Pope
this noble privilege: for the Pope, you know, will not grant
the cup to any layman. Your true Moravian values nothing
beyond the cup; it is his costly jewel, and has cost the
Bohemians their precious blood in many and many a battle.
Neumann.
And what says that chart that hangs in the air
there, over it all?
Master of the Cellar.
That signifies the Bohemian letter
royal, which we forced from the Emperor Rudolph—
a precious, never to be enough valued parchment that secures
to the new Church the old privileges of free ringing and
open psalmody. But since he of Steiermärk has ruled over
us, that is at an end; and after the battle of Prague, in
which Count Palatine Frederick lost crown and empire, our
faith hangs upon the pulpit and the altar—and our brethren
look at their homes over their shoulders; but the letter
royal the Emperor himself cut to pieces with his scissors.
Neumann.
Why, my good Master of the Cellar! you are
deep read in the chronicles of your country!
Master of the Cellar.
So were my forefathers, and for that
reason were they minstrels, and served under Procopius and
Ziska. Peace be with their ashes! Well, well! they fought
for a good cause though—There! carry it up!
Neumann.
Stay! let me but look at this second quarter.
Look there! That is, when at Prague Castle the Imperial
Counsellors, Martinitz and Stawata were hurled down head
over heels. 'Tis even so! there stands Count Thur who
commands it.
Master of the Cellar.
O let me never more hear of that day.
It was the three and twentieth of May, in the year of our
Lord one thousand, six hundred, and eighteen. It seems to me
as it were but yesterday—from that unlucky day it all began,
all the heart-aches of the country. Since that day it is now
sixteen years, and there has never once been peace on the earth.
The Prince of Weimar! Hurra!
Long live Prince William! Long live Duke Bernard!
Hurra!
First Servant.
Hear'em! Hear'em! What an uproar!
Second Servant
(comes in running).
Did you hear? They have
drunk the Prince of Weimar's health.
Third Servant.
The Swedish Chief Commander!
First Servant
(speaking at the same time).
The Lutheran!
Second Servant.
Just before, when Count Deodate gave out
the Emperor's health, they were all as mum as a nibbling
mouse.
Master of the Cellar.
Po, po! When the wine goes in,
strange things come out. A good servant hears, and hears
not!—You should be nothing but eyes and feet, except when
you are called.
Second Servant
(to the Runner, to whom he gives secretly a flask of wine, keeping his eye on the Master of the Cellar, standing between him and the Runner).
Quick, Thomas! before the
Master of the Cellar runs this way—'tis a flask of Frontignac!—Snapped
it up at the third table.—Canst go off
with it?
Runner
(hides it in his pocket).
All right!
[Exit the Second Servant.
Third Servant
(aside to the First).
Be on the hark, Jack! that
we may have right plenty to tell to father Quivoga—He will
give us right plenty of absolution in return for it.
First Servant.
For that very purpose I am always having
something to do behind Illo's chair.—He is the man for speeches
to make you stare with!
Master of the Cellar
(to Neumann).
Who, pray, may that
swarthy man be, he with the cross, that is chatting so confidentially
with Esterhats?
Neumann.
Ay! he too is one of those to whom they confide
too much. He calls himself Maradas, a Spaniard is he.
Master of the Cellar
(impatiently).
Spaniard! Spaniard!—I
tell you, friend; nothing good comes of those Spaniards. All
these out-landish fellows are little better than rogues.
Fy, fy! you should not say so, friend. There are
among them our very best generals, and those on whom the
Duke at this moment relies the most.
Master of the Cellar
(taking the flask out of the Runner's pocket).
My son, it will be broken to pieces in your pocket.
[Tertsky hurries in, fetches away the paper, and calls to a Servant for pen and ink, and goes to the back of the stage.
Master of the Cellar
(to the Servants).
The Lieutenant-General
stands up.—Be on the watch.—Now! They break up.—Off,
and move back the forms.
[They rise at all the tables, the Servants hurry off the front of the stage to the tables; part of the guests come forward.
Scene XIII
Octavio Piccolomini enters in conversation with Maradas, and both place themselves quite on the edge of the stage on one side of the proscenium. On the side directly opposite, Max Piccolomini, by himself, lost in thought, and taking no part in any thing that is going forward. The middle space between both, but rather more distant from the edge of the stage, is filled up by Butler, Isolani, Goetz, Tiefenbach, and Kolatto.Isolani
(while the company is coming forward).
Good night,
good night, Kolatto! Good night, Lieutenant-General!—I should
rather say, good morning.
Goetz
(to Tiefenbach).
Noble brother!
Tiefenbach.
Ay! 'twas a royal feast indeed.
Goetz.
Yes, my Lady Countess understands these matters.
Her mother-in-law, heaven rest her soul, taught her!—Ah!
that was a housewife for you!
Tiefenbach.
There was not her like in all Bohemia for setting
out a table.
Octavio
(aside to Maradas).
Do me the favour to talk to me—
talk of what you will—or of nothing. Only preserve the
appearance at least of talking. I would not wish to stand by
myself, and yet I conjecture that there will be goings on here
worthy of our attentive observation.
Isolani
(on the point of going).
Lights! lights!
Tertsky
(advances with the paper to Isolani).
Noble brother!
two minutes longer!—Here is something to subscribe.
Subscribe as much as you like—but you must excuse
me from reading it.
Tertsky.
There is no need. It is the oath which you have
already read.—Only a few marks of your pen!
[Isolani hands over the paper to Octavio respectfully.
Tertsky.
Nay, nay, first come first served. There is no precedence
here.
[Octavio runs over the paper with apparent indifference. Tertsky watches him at some distance.
Goetz
(to Tertsky).
Noble Count! with your permission—
Good night.
Tertsky.
Where's the hurry? Come, one other composing
draught.
(To the Servants)
—Ho!
Goetz.
Excuse me—an't able.
Tertsky.
A thimble-full!
Goetz.
Excuse me.
Tiefenbach
(sits down).
Pardon me, nobles!—This standing
does not agree with me.
Tertsky.
Consult only your own convenience, General!
Tiefenbach.
Clear at head, sound in stomach—only my legs
won't carry me any longer.
Isolani.
Poor legs! how should they? Such an unmerciful
load!
[Octavio subscribes his name, and reaches over the paper to Tertsky, who gives it to Isolani; and he goes to the table to sign his name.
Tiefenbach.
'Twas that war in Pomerania that first brought
it on. Out in all weathers—ice and snow—no help for it.—I
shall never get the better of it all the days of my life.
Goetz.
Why, in simple verity, your Swede makes no nice
enquiries about the season.
Tertsky
(observing Isolani, whose hand trembles excessively, so that he can scarce direct his pen).
Have you had that ugly complaint
long, noble brother?—Dispatch it.
Isolani.
The sins of youth! I have already tried the Chalybeate
waters. Well—I must bear it.
[Tertsky gives the paper to Maradas; he steps to the table to subscribe.
Octavio
(advancing to Butler).
You are not over fond of the
orgies of Bacchus, Colonel! I have observed it. You would, I
think, find yourself more to your liking in the uproar of a battle,
than of a feast.
I must confess, 'tis not in my way.
Octavio.
Nor in mine either, I can assure you; and I am not
a little glad, my much honoured Colonel Butler, that we agree
so well in our opinions. A half dozen good friends at most,
at a small round table, a glass of genuine Tokay, open hearts,
and a rational conversation—that's my taste!
Butler.
And mine too, when it can be had.
[The paper comes to Tiefenbach, who glances over it at the same time with Goetz and Kolatto. Maradas in the mean time returns to Octavio, all this takes place, the conversation with Butler proceeding uninterrupted.
Octavio
(introducing Maradas to Butler).
Don Balthasar Maradas!
likewise a man of our stamp, and long ago your admirer.
[Butler bows.
Octavio
(continuing).
You are a stranger here—'twas but
yesterday you arrived—you are ignorant of the ways and means
here. 'Tis a wretched place—I know, at our age, one loves to
be snug and quiet—What if you moved your lodgings?—Come,
be my visitor.
(Butler makes a low bow.)
Nay, without compliment!
—For a friend like you, I have still a corner
remaining.
Butler.
Your obliged humble servant, my Lord Lieutenant-
General!
[The paper comes to Butler, who goes to the table to subscribe it. The front of the stage is vacant, so that both the Piccolominis, each on the side where he had been from the commencement of the scene, remain alone.
Octavio
(after having some time watched his son in silence, advances somewhat nearer to him).
You were long absent from us,
friend!
Max.
I—urgent business detained me.
Octavio.
And, I observe, you are still absent!
Max.
You know this crowd and bustle always makes me
silent.
Octavio.
May I be permitted to ask what business 'twas that
detained you? Tertsky knows it without asking!
Max.
What does Tertsky know?
Octavio.
He was the only one who did not miss you.
Well done, father! Rout out his baggage! Beat
up his quarters! there is something there that should not be.
Tertsky
(with the paper).
Is there none wanting? Have the
whole subscribed?
Octavio.
All.
Tertsky
(calling aloud).
Ho! Who subscribes?
Butler
(to Tertsky).
Count the names. There ought to be
just thirty.
Tertsky.
Here is a cross.
Tiefenbach.
That's my mark.
Isolani.
He cannot write; but his cross is a good cross, and
is honoured by Jews as well as Christians.
Octavio
(presses on to Max).
Come, general! let us go. It is late.
Tertsky.
One Piccolomini only has signed.
Isolani
(pointing to Max).
Look! that is your man, that statue
there, who has had neither eye, ear, nor tongue for us the
whole evening.
[Max receives the paper from Tertsky, which he looks upon vacantly.
Scene XIV
To these enter Illo from the inner room. He has in his hand the golden service-cup, and is extremely distempered with drinking: Goetz and Butler follow him, endeavouring to keep him back.Illo.
What do you want? Let me go.
Goetz and Butler.
Drink no more, Illo! For heaven's sake,
drink no more.
Illo
(goes up to Octavio, and shakes him cordially by the hand, and then drinks).
Octavio! I bring this to you! Let all grudge
be drowned in this friendly bowl! I know well enough, ye
never loved me—Devil take me!—and I never loved you!—I am
always even with people in that way!—Let what's past be past
—that is, you understand—forgotten! I esteem you infinitely.
(Embracing him repeatedly.)
You have not a dearer friend on
earth than I—but that you know. The fellow that cries rogue
to you calls me villain—and I'll strangle him!—my dear friend!
Tertsky
(whispering to him).
Art in thy senses? For heaven's
sake, Illo! think where you are!
Illo
(aloud).
What do you mean?—There are none but friends
here, are there? Not a sneaker among us, thank heaven!
(to Butler).
Take him off with you, force him off,
I entreat you, Butler!
Butler
(to Illo).
Field Marshal! a word with you.
[Leads him to the sideboard.
Illo.
A thousand for one! Fill—Fill it once more up to the
brim.—To this gallant man's health!
Isolani
(to Max, who all the while has been staring on the paper with fixed but vacant eyes).
Slow and sure, my noble brother!—
Hast parsed it all yet?—Some words yet to go through?—Ha?
Max.
What am I to do?
Tertsky
(and at the same time Isolani).
Sign your name.
Max
(returns the paper).
Let it stay till to-morrow. It is
business—to-day I am not sufficiently collected. Send it to me
to-morrow.
Tertsky.
Nay, collect yourself a little.
Isolani.
Awake, man! awake!—Come, thy signature, and
have done with it! What? Thou art the youngest in the
whole company, and wouldest be wiser than all of us together?
Look there! thy father has signed—we have all signed.
Tertsky
(to Octavio).
Use your influence. Instruct him.
Octavio.
My son is at the age of discretion.
Illo
(leaves the service-cup on the sideboard).
What's the
dispute?
Tertsky.
He declines subscribing the paper.
Max.
I say, it may as well stay till to-morrow.
Illo.
It cannot stay. We have all subscribed to it—and so
must you.—You must subscribe.
Max.
Illo, good night!
Illo.
No! You come not off so! The Duke shall learn
who are his friends.
Max.
What my sentiments are towards the Duke, the Duke
knows, every one knows—what need of this wild stuff?
Illo.
This is the thanks the Duke gets for his partiality to
Italians and foreigners.—Us Bohemians he holds for little better
than dullards—nothing pleases him but what's outlandish.
Tertsky
(to the commanders, who at Illo's words give a sudden start, as preparing to resent them).
It is the wine that speaks,
and not his reason. Attend not to him, I entreat you.
Wine invents nothing: it only tattles.
Illo.
He who is not with me is against me. Your tender
consciences! Unless they can slip out by a back-door, by a
puny proviso—
Tertsky.
He is stark mad—don't listen to him!
Illo.
—Unless they can slip out by a proviso.—What of the
proviso? The devil take this proviso!
Max.
What is there here then of such perilous import?
You make me curious—I must look closer at it.
Tertsky
(in a low voice to Illo).
What are you doing, Illo?
You are ruining us.
Tiefenbach
(to Kolatto).
Ay, ay! I observed, that before we
sat down to supper, it was read differently.
Goetz.
Why, I seemed to think so too.
Isolani.
What do I care for that? Where there stand other
names, mine can stand too.
Tiefenbach.
Before supper there was a certain proviso therein,
or short clause concerning our duties to the Emperor.
Butler
(to one of the commanders).
For shame, for shame!
Bethink you. What is the main business here? The question
now is, whether we shall keep our General, or let him retire.
One must not take these things too nicely and
over-scrupulously.
Isolani
(to one of the Generals).
Did the Duke make any of
these provisos when he gave you your regiment?
Tertsky
(to Goetz).
Or when he gave you the office of armypurveyancer,
which brings you in yearly a thousand pistoles!
Illo.
He is a rascal who makes us out to be rogues. If
there be any one that wants satisfaction, let him say so,—I am
his man.
Tiefenbach.
Softly, softly! 'Twas but a word or two.
Max
(having read the paper gives it back).
Till to-morrow,
therefore!
Illo
(stammering with rage and fury, loses all command over himself, and presents the paper to Max with one hand, and his sword in the other).
Subscribe—Judas!
Isolani.
Out upon you, Illo!
Octavio, Tertsky, Butler
(all together).
Down with the sword!
(rushes on him suddenly and disarms him, then to Count Tertsky).
Take him off to bed.
[Max leaves the stage. Illo cursing and raving is held back by some of the Officers, and amidst a universal confusion the curtain drops.
| The Piccolomini : or, The First Part of Wallenstein | |