University of Virginia Library

ACT IV

Scene I

Scene—A Room fitted up for astrological Labours, and provided with celestial Charts, with Globes, Telescopes, Quadrants, and other mathematical Instruments.—Seven Colossal Figures, representing the Planets, each with a transparent Star of a different Colour on its Head, stand in a Semi-circle in the Back-ground, so that Mars and Saturn are nearest the Eye.— The remainder of the Scene, and its Disposition, is given in the Fourth Scene of the Second Act.—There must be a Curtain over the Figures, which may be dropped, and conceal them on Occasions.
[In the Fifth Scene of this Act it must be dropped; but in the Seventh Scene, it must be again drawn up wholly or in part.]
Wallenstein at a black Table, on which a Speculum Astrologicum is described with Chalk. Seni is taking Observations through a window.
Wallenstein.
All well—and now let it be ended, Seni.—Come,
The dawn commences, and Mars rules the hour.
We must give o'er the operation. Come,
We know enough.

Seni.
Your Highness must permit me
Just to contemplate Venus. She's now rising:
Like as a sun, so shines she in the east.

Wallenstein.
She is at present in her perigee,
And shoots down now her strongest influences.
[Contemplating the figure on the table.
Auspicious aspect! fateful in conjunction,
At length the mighty three corradiate;
And the two stars of blessing, Jupiter
And Venus, take between them the malignant
Slily-malicious Mars, and thus compel
Into my service that old mischief-founder;
For long he viewed me hostilely, and ever
With beam oblique, or perpendicular,
Now in the Quartile, now in the Secundan,
Shot his red lightnings at my stars, disturbing
Their blessed influences and sweet aspects.
Now they have conquered the old enemy,
And bring him in the heavens a prisoner to me.

Seni
(who has come down from the window).
And in a corner house, your Highness—think of that!
That makes each influence of double strength.

Wallenstein.
And sun and moon, too, in the Sextile aspect,
The soft light with the vehement—so I love it.
Sol is the heart, Luna the head of heaven,
Bold be the plan, fiery the execution.

Seni.
And both the mighty Lumina by no
Maleficus affronted. Lo! Saturnus,
Innocuous, powerless, in cadente Domo.

Wallenstein.
The empire of Saturnus is gone by;
Lord of the secret birth of things is he;
Within the lap of earth, and in the depths
Of the imagination dominates;
And his are all things that eschew the light.
The time is o'er of brooding and contrivance;
For Jupiter, the lustrous, lordeth now,
And the dark work, complete of preparation,
He draws by force into the realm of light.
Now must we hasten on to action, ere
The scheme, and most auspicious positure
Parts o'er my head, and takes once more its flight;
For the heavens journey still, and sojourn not.
[There are knocks at the door.
There's some one knocking there. See who it is.

Tertsky
(from without).
Open, and let me in.

Wallenstein.
Aye—'tis Tertsky.
What is there of such urgence? We are busy.

Tertsky
(from without).
Lay all aside at present, I entreat you.
It suffers no delaying.

Wallenstein.
Open, Seni!

[While Seni opens the doors for Tertsky, Wallenstein draws the curtain over the figures.
Tertsky
(enters).
Hast thou already heard it? He is taken.
Galas has given him up to the Emperor.

[Seni draws off the black table, and exit.

Scene II

Wallenstein, Count Tertsky.
Wallenstein
(to Tertsky).
Who has been taken?—Who is given up?

Tertsky.
The man who knows our secrets, who knows every
Negotiation with the Swede and Saxon,
Through whose hands all and every thing has passed—

Wallenstein
(drawing back).
Nay, not Sesina?—Say, No! I entreat thee.

Tertsky.
All on his road for Regenspurg to the Swede
He was plunged down upon by Galas' agent,
Who had been long in ambush, lurking for him.
There must have been found on him my whole packet
To Thur, to Kinsky, to Oxenstirn, to Arnheim:
All this is in their hands; they have now an insight
Into the whole—our measures, and our motives.

Scene III

To them enters Illo.
Illo
(to Tertsky).
Has he heard it?

Tertsky.
He has heard it.

Illo
(to Wallenstein).
Thinkest thou still
To make thy peace with the Emperor, to regain
His confidence?—E'en were it now thy wish
To abandon all thy plans, yet still they know
What thou hast wished; then forwards thou must press;
Retreat is now no longer in thy power.

Tertsky.
They have documents against us, and in hands,
Which shew beyond all power of contradiction—

Wallenstein.
Of my hand-writing—no iota. Thee
I punish for thy lies.

Illo.
And thou believest,
That what this man, that what thy sister's husband,
Did in thy name, will not stand on thy reck'ning?
His word must pass for thy word with the Swede,
And not with those that hate thee at Vienna.

Tertsky.
In writing thou gav'st nothing—But bethink thee,
How far thou ventured'st by word of mouth
With this Sesina? And will he be silent?
If he can save himself by yielding up
Thy secret purposes, will he retain them?

Illo.
Thyself dost not conceive it possible;
And since they now have evidence authentic
How far thou hast already gone, speak!—tell us,
What art thou waiting for? thou canst no longer
Keep thy command; and beyond hope of rescue
Thou'rt lost, if thou resign'st it.

Wallenstein.
In the army
Lies my security. The army will not
Abandon me. Whatever they may know,
The power is mine, and they must gulp it down—
And substitute I caution for my fealty,
They must be satisfied, at least appear so.

Illo.
The army, Duke, is thine now—for this moment—
'Tis thine: but think with terror on the slow,
The quiet power of time. From open violence
The attachment of thy soldiery secures thee
To-day—to-morrow; but grant'st thou them a respite,
Unheard, unseen, they'll undermine that love
On which thou now dost feel so firm a footing,
With wily theft will draw away from thee
One after the other—

Wallenstein.
'Tis a curséd accident!

Illo.
O, I will call it a most blessed one,
If it work on thee as it ought to do,
Hurry thee on to action—to decision.
The Swedish General—

Wallenstein.
He's arrived! Know'st thou
What his commission is—

Illo.
To thee alone
Will he entrust the purpose of his coming.

Wallenstein.
A curséd, curséd accident! Yes, yes,
Sesina knows too much, and won't be silent.

Tertsky.
He's a Bohemian fugitive and rebel,
His neck is forfeit. Can he save himself
At thy cost, think you he will scruple it?
And if they put him to the torture, will he,
Will he, that dastardling, have strength enough—

Wallenstein.
Their confidence is lost—irreparably!
And I may act what way I will, I shall
Be and remain for ever in their thought
A traitor to my country. How sincerely
Soever I return back to my duty,
It will no longer help me—

Illo.
Ruin thee,
That it will do! Not thy fidelity,
Thy weakness will be deemed the sole occasion—

Wallenstein.
What! I must realize it now in earnest,
Because I toy'd too freely with the thought?
Accurséd he who dallies with a devil!
And must I—I must realize it now—
Now, while I have the power, it must take place?

Illo.
Now—now—ere they can ward and parry it!

Wallenstein
(looking at the paper of signatures).
I have the Generals' word—a written promise!
Max Piccolomini stands not here—how's that?

Tertsky.
It was—he fancied—

Illo.
Mere self-willedness.
There needed no such thing 'twixt him and you.

Wallenstein.
He is quite right—there needeth no such thing.
The regiments, too, deny to march for Flanders—
Have sent me in a paper of remonstrance,
And openly resist the Imperial orders.
The first step to revolt's already taken.

Illo.
Believe me, thou wilt find it far more easy
To lead them over to the enemy
Than to the Spaniard.

Wallenstein.
I will hear, however,
What the Swede has to say to me.

Illo
(to Tertsky).
Go, call him!
He stands without the door in waiting.

Wallenstein.
Stay!
Stay yet a little. It hath taken me
All by surprise,—it came too quick upon me;
'Tis wholly novel, that an accident,
With its dark lordship, and blind agency,
Should force me on with it.

Illo.
First hear him only,
And after weigh it.

[Exeunt Tertsky and Illo.

Scene IV

Wallenstein.
Is it possible?
Is't so? I can no longer what I would?
No longer draw back at my liking? I
Must do the deed, because I thought of it,
And fed this heart here with a dream? Because
I did not scowl temptation from my presence,
Dallied with thoughts of possible fulfilment,
Commenced no movement, left all time uncertain,
And only kept the road, the access open?
By the great God of Heaven! it was not
My serious meaning, it was ne'er resolve.
I but amused myself with thinking of it.
The free-will tempted me, the power to do
Or not to do it.—Was it criminal
To make the fancy minister to hope,
To fill the air with pretty toys of air,
And clutch fantastic sceptres moving t'ward me?
Was not the will kept free? Beheld I not
The road of duty close beside me—but
One little step, and once more I was in it!
Where am I? Whither have I been transported?
No road, no track behind me, but a wall,
Impenetrable, insurmountable,
Rises obedient to the spells I muttered
And meant not—my own doings tower behind me.
A punishable man I seem, the guilt,
Try what I will, I cannot roll off from me;
The equivocal demeanour of my life
Bears witness on my prosecutor's party;
And even my purest acts from purest motives
Suspicion poisons with malicious gloss.
Were I that thing, for which I pass, that traitor,
A goodly outside I had sure reserved,
Had drawn the coverings thick and double round me,
Been calm and chary of my utterance.
But being conscious of the innocence
Of my intent, my uncorrupted will,
I gave way to my humours, to my passion:
Bold were my words, because my deeds were not.
Now every planless measure, chance event,
The threat of rage, the vaunt of joy and triumph,
And all the May-games of a heart o'erflowing,
Will they connect, and weave them all together
Into one web of treason; all will be plan,
My eye ne'er absent from the far-off mark,
Step tracing step, each step a politic progress;
And out of all they'll fabricate a charge
So specious, that I must myself stand dumb.
I am caught in my own net, and only force,
Naught but a sudden rent can liberate me.
How else! since that the heart's unbiass'd instinct
Impelled me to the daring deed, which now
Necessity, self-preservation, orders.
Stern is the On-look of Necessity,
Not without shudder many a human hand
Grasps the mysterious urn of destiny.
My deed was mine, remaining in my bosom,
Once suffered to escape from its safe corner
Within the heart, its nursery and birthplace,
Sent forth into the Foreign, it belongs
For ever to those sly malicious powers
Whom never art of man conciliated.
What is thy enterprize? thy aim? thy object?
Hast honestly confessed it to thyself?
Power seated on a quiet throne thou'dst shake,
Power on an ancient consecrated throne,
Strong in possession, founded in old custom;
Power by a thousand tough and stringy roots
Fixed to the people's pious nursery-faith.
This, this will be no strife of strength with strength.
That feared I not. I brave each combatant,
Whom I can look on, fixing eye to eye,
Who full himself of courage kindles courage
In me too. 'Tis a foe invisible,
The which I fear—a fearful enemy,
Which in the human heart opposes me,
By its coward fear alone made fearful to me.
Not that, which full of life, instinct with power,
Makes known its present being, that is not
The true, the perilously formidable.
O no! it is the common, the quite common,
The thing of an eternal yesterday,
What ever was, and evermore returns,
Sterling to-morrow, for to-day 'twas sterling!
For of the wholly common is man made,
And custom is his nurse! Woe then to them,
Who lay irreverent hands upon his old
House furniture, the dear inheritance
From his forefathers. For time consecrates;
And what is grey with age becomes religion.
Be in possession, and thou hast the right,
And sacred will the many guard it for thee!
[To the Page, who here enters.
The Swedish officer?—Well, let him enter.
[The Page exit, Wallenstein fixes his eye in deep thought on the door.
Yet is it pure—as yet!—the crime has come
Not o'er this threshold yet—so slender is
The boundary that divideth life's two paths.

Scene V

Wallenstein and Wrangel.
Wallenstein.
Your name is Wrangel?

Wrangel.
Gustave Wrangel, General
Of the Sudermanian Blues.

Wallenstein.
It was a Wrangel
Who injured me materially at Stralsund,
And by his brave resistance was the cause
Of the opposition which that sea-port made.

Wrangel.
It was the doing of the element
With which you fought, my Lord! and not my merit.
The Baltic Neptune did assert his freedom,
The sea and land, it seemed, were not to serve
One and the same.

Wallenstein
(makes a motion for him to take a seat, and seats himself).
And where are your credentials?
Come you provided with full powers, Sir General?

Wrangel.
There are so many scruples yet to solve—

Wallenstein
(having read the credentials).
An able letter!—Ay—he is a prudent,
Intelligent master, whom you serve, Sir General!
The Chancellor writes me, that he but fulfils
His late departed Sovereign's own idea
In helping me to the Bohemian crown.

Wrangel.
He says the truth. Our great King, now in heaven,
Did ever deem most highly of your Grace's
Pre-eminent sense and military genius;
And always the commanding Intellect,
He said, should have command, and be the King.

Wallenstein.
Yes, he might say it safely.—General Wrangel,
[Taking his hand.
Come, fair and open—Trust me, I was always
A Swede at heart. Ey! that did you experience
Both in Silesia and at Nuremburg;
I had you often in my power, and let you
Always slip out by some back door or other.
'Tis this for which the Court can ne'er forgive me,
Which drives me to this present step: and since
Our interests so run in one direction,
E'en let us have a thorough confidence
Each in the other.

Wrangel.
Confidence will come
Has each but only first security.

Wallenstein.
The Chancellor still, I see, does not quite trust me;
And, I confess—the gain does not wholly lie
To my advantage—Without doubt he thinks
If I can play false with the Emperor,
Who is my Sov'reign, I can do the like
With the enemy, and that the one too were
Sooner to be forgiven me than the other.
Is not this your opinion too, Sir General?

Wrangel.
I have here an office merely, no opinion.

Wallenstein.
The Emperor hath urged me to the uttermost.
I can no longer honourably serve him.
For my security, in self-defence,
I take this hard step, which my conscience blames.

Wrangel.
That I believe. So far would no one go
Who was not forced to it.
[After a pause.
What may have impelled
Your princely Highness in this wise to act
Toward your Sovereign Lord and Emperor,
Beseems not us to expound or criticize.
The Swede is fighting for his good old cause,
With his good sword and conscience. This concurrence,
This opportunity, is in our favour,
And all advantages in war are lawful.
We take what offers without questioning;
And if all have its due and just proportions—

Wallenstein.
Of what then are ye doubting? Of my will?
Or of my power? I pledged me to the Chancellor,
Would he trust me with sixteen thousand men,
That I would instantly go over to them
With eighteen thousand of the Emperor's troops.

Wrangel.
Your Grace is known to be a mighty war-chief,
To be a second Attila and Pyrrhus.
'Tis talked of still with fresh astonishment,
How some years past, beyond all human faith,
You called an army forth, like a creation:
But yet—

Wallenstein.
But yet?

Wrangel.
But still the Chancellor thinks,
It might yet be an easier thing from nothing
To call forth sixty thousand men of battle,
Than to persuade one sixtieth part of them—

Wallenstein.
What now? Out with it, friend!

Wrangel.
To break their oaths.

Wallenstein.
And he thinks so?—He judges like a Swede,
And like a Protestant. You Lutherans
Fight for your Bible. You are interested
About the cause; and with your hearts you follow
Your banners.—Among you, whoe'er deserts
To the enemy, hath broken covenant
With two Lords at one time.—We've no such fancies.

Wrangel.
Great God in Heaven! Have then the people here
No house and home, no fire-side, no altar?

Wallenstein.
I will explain that to you, how it stands—
The Austrian has a country, ay, and loves it,
And has good cause to love it—but this army,
That calls itself the Imperial, this that houses
Here in Bohemia, this has none—no country;
This is an outcast of all foreign lands,
Unclaimed by town or tribe, to whom belongs
Nothing, except the universal sun.

Wrangel.
But then the Nobles and the Officers?
Such a desertion, such a felony,
It is without example, my Lord Duke,
In the world's history.

Wallenstein.
They are all mine—
Mine unconditionally—mine on all terms.
Not me, your own eyes you must trust.
[He gives him the paper containing the written oath. Wrangel reads it through, and, having read it, lays it on the table, remaining silent.
So then?
Now comprehend you?

Wrangel.
Comprehend who can!
My Lord Duke; I will let the mask drop—yes!
I've full powers for a final settlement.
The Rhinegrave stands but four days' march from here
With fifteen thousand men, and only waits
For orders to proceed and join your army.
Those orders I give out, immediately
We're compromised.

Wallenstein.
What asks the Chancellor?

Wrangel.
Twelve Regiments, every man a Swede—my head
The warranty—and all might prove at last
Only false play—

Wallenstein
(starting).
Sir Swede!

Wrangel.
Am therefore forced
T'insist thereon, that he do formally,
Irrevocably break with the Emperor,
Else not a Swede is trusted to Duke Friedland.

Wallenstein.
Come, brief and open! What is the demand?

Wrangel.
That he forthwith disarm the Spanish regiments
Attached to the Emperor, that he seize Prague,
And to the Swedes give up that city, with
The strong pass Egra.

Wallenstein.
That is much indeed!
Prague!—Egra's granted— But—but Prague!— 'Twon't do.
I give you every security
Which you may ask of me in common reason—
But Prague—Bohemia—these, Sir General,
I can myself protect.

Wrangel.
We doubt it not.
But 'tis not the protection that is now
Our sole concern. We want security,
That we shall not expend our men and money
All to no purpose.

Wallenstein.
'Tis but reasonable.

Wrangel.
And till we are indemnified, so long
Stays Prague in pledge.

Wallenstein.
Then trust you us so little?

Wrangel
(rising).
The Swede, if he would treat well with the German,
Must keep a sharp look-out. We have been called
Over the Baltic, we have saved the empire
From ruin—with our best blood have we seal'd
The liberty of faith, and gospel truth.
But now already is the benefaction
No longer felt, the load alone is felt.—
Ye look askance with evil eye upon us,
As foreigners, intruders in the empire,
And would fain send us, with some paltry sum
Of money, home again to our old forests.
No, no! my Lord Duke! no!—it never was
For Judas' pay, for chinking gold and silver,
That we did leave our King by the Great Stone.
No, not for gold and silver have there bled
So many of our Swedish Nobles—neither
Will we, with empty laurels for our payment,
Hoist sail for our own country. Citizens
Will we remain upon the soil, the which
Our Monarch conquered for himself, and died.

Wallenstein.
Help to keep down the common enemy,
And the fair border land must needs be yours.

Wrangel.
But when the common enemy lies vanquished,
Who knits together our new friendship then?
We know, Duke Friedland! though perhaps the Swede
Ought not t'have known it, that you carry on
Secret negotiations with the Saxons.
Who is our warranty, that we are not
The sacrifices in those articles
Which 'tis thought needful to conceal from us?

Wallenstein
(rises).
Think you of something better, Gustave Wrangel!
Of Prague no more.

Wrangel.
Here my commission ends.

Wallenstein.
Surrender up to you my capital!
Far liever would I face about, and step
Back to my Emperor.

Wrangel.
If time yet permits—

Wallenstein.
That lies with me, even now, at any hour.

Wrangel.
Some days ago, perhaps. To-day, no longer,
No longer since Sesina is a prisoner.
My Lord Duke, hear me—We believe that you
At present do mean honourably by us.
Since yesterday we're sure of that—and now
This paper warrants for the troops, there's nothing
Stands in the way of our full confidence.
Prague shall not part us. Hear! The Chancellor
Contents himself with Albstadt, to your Grace
He gives up Ratschin and the narrow side,
But Egra above all must open to us,
Ere we can think of any junction.

Wallenstein.
You,
You therefore must I trust, and you not me?
I will consider of your proposition.

Wrangel.
I must entreat, that your consideration
Occupy not too long a time. Already
Has this negotiation, my Lord Duke!
Crept on into the second year. If nothing
Is settled this time, will the Chancellor
Consider it as broken off for ever.

Wallenstein.
Ye press me hard. A measure, such as this,
Ought to be thought of.

Wrangel.
Ay! but think of this too,
That sudden action only can procure it
Success—think first of this, your Highness.

[Exit Wrangel.

Scene VI

Wallenstein, Tertsky, and Illo (re-enter).
Illo.
Is't all right?

Tertsky.
Are you compromised?

Illo.
This Swede
Went smiling from you. Yes! you're compromised.

Wallenstein.
As yet is nothing settled: and (well weighed)
I feel myself inclined to leave it so.

Tertsky.
How? What is that?

Wallenstein.
Come on me what will come,
The doing evil to avoid an evil
Cannot be good!

Tertsky.
Nay, but bethink you, Duke?

Wallenstein.
To live upon the mercy of these Swedes!
Of these proud-hearted Swedes! I could not bear it.

Illo.
Goest thou as fugitive, as mendicant?
Bringest thou not more to them than thou receivest?

Scene VII

To these enter the Countess Tertsky.
Wallenstein.
Who sent for you? There is no business here
For women.

Countess.
I am come to bid you joy.

Wallenstein.
Use thy authority, Tertsky, bid her go.

Countess.
Come I perhaps too early? I hope not.

Wallenstein.
Set not this tongue upon me, I entreat you.
You know it is the weapon that destroys me.
I am routed, if a woman but attack me.
I cannot traffic in the trade of words
With that unreasoning sex.

Countess.
I had already
Given the Bohemians a king.

Wallenstein.
They have one,
In consequence, no doubt.

Countess.
Ha! what new scruple?

Tertsky.
The Duke will not.

Countess.
He will not what he must!

Illo.
It lies with you now. Try. For I am silenced,
When folks begin to talk to me of conscience,
And of fidelity.

Countess.
How? then, when all
Lay in the far-off distance, when the road
Stretched out before thine eyes interminably,
Then hadst thou courage and resolve; and now,
Now that the dream is being realized,
The purpose ripe, the issue ascertained,
Dost thou begin to play the dastard now?
Planned merely, 'tis a common felony;
Accomplished, an immortal undertaking:
And with success comes pardon hand in hand;
For all event is God's arbitrement.

Servant
(enters).
The Colonel Piccolomini.

Countess.
—Must wait.

Wallenstein.
I cannot see him now. Another time.

Servant.
But for two minutes he entreats an audience.
Of the most urgent nature is his business.

Wallenstein.
Who knows what he may bring us? I will hear him.

Countess.
Urgent for him, no doubt; but thou mayest wait.

Wallenstein.
What is it?

Countess.
Thou shalt be informed hereafter.
First let the Swede and thee be compromised.

[Exit Servant.
Wallenstein.
If there were yet a choice! if yet some milder
Way of escape were possible—I still
Will choose it, and avoid the last extreme.

Countess.
Desir'st thou nothing further? Such a way
Lies still before thee. Send this Wrangel off.
Forget thou thy old hopes, cast far away
All thy past life; determine to commence
A new one. Virtue hath her heroes too,
As well as Fame and Fortune.—To Vienna—
Hence—to the Emperor—kneel before the throne;
Take a full coffer with thee—say aloud,
Thou did'st but wish to prove thy fealty;
Thy whole intention but to dupe the Swede.

Illo.
For that too 'tis too late. They know too much.
He would but bear his own head to the block.

Countess.
I fear not that. They have not evidence
To attaint him legally, and they avoid
The avowal of an arbitrary power.
They'll let the Duke resign without disturbance.
I see how all will end. The King of Hungary
Makes his appearance, and 'twill of itself
Be understood, that then the Duke retires.
There will not want a formal declaration.
The young King will administer the oath
To the whole army; and so all returns
To the old position. On some morrow morning
The Duke departs; and now 'tis stir and bustle
Within his castles. He will hunt, and build,
Superintend his horses' pedigrees;
Creates himself a court, gives golden keys,
And introduceth strictest ceremony
In fine proportions, and nice etiquette;
Keeps open table with high cheer; in brief,
Commenceth mighty King—in miniature.
And while he prudently demeans himself,
And gives himself no actual importance,
He will be let appear whate'er he likes;
And who dares doubt, that Friedland will appear
A mighty Prince to his last dying hour?
Well now, what then? Duke Friedland is as others,
A fire-new Noble, whom the war hath raised
To price and currency, a Jonah's Gourd,
An over-night creation of court-favour,
Which with an undistinguishable ease
Makes Baron or makes Prince.

Wallenstein.
Take her away.
Let in the young Count Piccolomini.

Countess.
Art thou in earnest? I entreat thee! Canst thou
Consent to bear thyself to thy own grave,
So ignominiously to be dried up?
Thy life, that arrogated such a height
To end in such a nothing! To be nothing,
When one was always nothing, is an evil
That asks no stretch of patience, a light evil,
But to become a nothing, having been—

Wallenstein
(starts up).
Shew me a way out of this stifling crowd,
Ye Powers of Aidance! Shew me such a way
As I am capable of going.—I
Am no tongue-hero, no fine virtue-prattler;
I cannot warm by thinking; cannot say
To the good luck that turns her back upon me,
Magnanimously: ‘Go! I need thee not.’
Cease I to work, I am annihilated.
Dangers nor sacrifices will I shun,
If so I may avoid the last extreme;
But ere I sink down into nothingness,
Leave off so little, who began so great,
Ere that the world confuses me with those
Poor wretches, whom a day creates and crumbles,
This age and after-ages speak my name
With hate and dread; and Friedland be redemption
For each accurséd deed!

Countess.
What is there here, then,
So against nature? Help me to perceive it!
O let not Superstition's nightly goblins
Subdue thy clear bright spirit! Art thou bid
To murder?—with abhorr'd accurséd poniard,
To violate the breasts that nourished thee?
That were against our nature, that might aptly
Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart sicken.
Yet not a few, and for a meaner object,
Have ventured even this, ay, and performed it.
What is there in thy case so black and monstrous?
Thou art accused of treason—whether with
Or without justice is not now the question—
Thou art lost if thou dost not avail thee quickly
Of the power which thou possessest—Friedland! Duke!
Tell me, where lives that thing so meek and tame,
That doth not all his living faculties
Put forth in preservation of his life?
What deed so daring, which necessity
And desperation will not sanctify?

Wallenstein.
Once was this Ferdinand so gracious to me:
He loved me; he esteemed me; I was placed
The nearest to his heart. Full many a time
We like familiar friends, both at one table,
Have banquetted together. He and I—
And the young kings themselves held me the bason
Wherewith to wash me—and is't come to this?

Countess.
So faithfully preserv'st thou each small favour,
And hast no memory for contumelies?
Must I remind thee, how at Regenspurg
This man repaid thy faithful services?
All ranks and all conditions in the Empire
Thou hadst wronged, to make him great,—hadst loaded on thee,
On thee, the hate, the curse of the whole world.
No friend existed for thee in all Germany,
And why? because thou hadst existed only
For the Emperor. To the Emperor alone
Clung Friedland in that storm which gathered round him
At Regenspurg in the Diet—and he dropped thee!
He let thee fall! He let thee fall a victim
To the Bavarian, to that insolent!
Deposed, stript bare of all thy dignity
And power, amid the taunting of thy foes,
Thou wert let drop into obscurity.—
Say not, the restoration of thy honour
Hath made atonement for that first injustice.
No honest good-will was it that replaced thee,
The law of hard necessity replaced thee,
Which they had fain opposed, but that they could not.

Wallenstein.
Not to their good wishes, that is certain,
Nor yet to his affection I'm indebted
For this high office; and if I abuse it,
I shall therein abuse no confidence.

Countess.
Affection! confidence!—They needed thee.
Necessity, impetuous remonstrant!
Who not with empty names, or shews of proxy,
Is served, who'll have the thing and not the symbol,
Ever seeks out the greatest and the best,
And at the rudder places him, e'en though
She had been forced to take him from the rabble—
She, this Necessity, it was that placed thee
In this high office, it was she that gave thee
Thy letters patent of inauguration.
For, to the uttermost moment that they can,
This race still help themselves at cheapest rate
With slavish souls, with puppets! At the approach
Of extreme peril, when a hollow image
Is found a hollow image and no more,
Then falls the power into the mighty hands
Of Nature, of the spirit giant-born,
Who listens only to himself, knows nothing
Of stipulations, duties, reverences
And, like the emancipated force of fire,
Unmastered scorches, ere it reaches them,
Their fine-spun webs, their artificial policy.

Wallenstein.
'Tis true! they saw me always as I am—
Always! I did not cheat them in the bargain.
I never held it worth my pains to hide
The bold all-grasping habit of my soul.

Countess.
Nay rather—thou hast ever shewn thyself
A formidable man, without restraint;
Hast exercised the full prerogatives
Of thy impetuous nature, which had been
Once granted to thee. Therefore, Duke, not thou,
Who hast still remained consistent with thyself,
But they are in the wrong, who fearing thee,
Entrusted such a power in hands they feared.
For, by the laws of Spirit, in the right
Is every individual character
That acts in strict consistence with itself.
Self-contradiction is the only wrong.
Wert thou another being, then, when thou
Eight years ago pursuedst thy march with fire
And sword, and desolation, through the Circles
Of Germany, the universal scourge,
Didst mock all ordinances of the empire,
The fearful rights of strength alone exertedst,
Trampledst to earth each rank, each magistracy,
All to extend thy Sultan's domination?
Then was the time to break thee in, to curb
Thy haughty will, to teach thee ordinance.
But no! the Emperor felt no touch of conscience,
What served him pleased him, and without a murmur
He stamped his broad seal on these lawless deeds.
What at that time was right, because thou didst it
For him, to-day is all at once become
Opprobrious, foul, because it is directed
Against him.—O most flimsy superstition!

Wallenstein
(rising).
I never saw it in this light before.
'Tis even so. The Emperor perpetrated
Deeds through my arm, deeds most unorderly.
And even this prince's mantle, which I wear,
I owe to what were services to him,
But most high misdemeanours 'gainst the empire.

Countess.
Then betwixt thee and him (confess it, Friedland!)
The point can be no more of right and duty,
Only of power and opportunity.
That opportunity, lo! it comes yonder,
Approaching with swift steeds; then with a swing
Throw thyself up into the chariot-seat,
Seize with firm hand the reins, ere thy opponent
Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest
Of the now empty seat. The moment comes—
It is already here, when thou must write
The absolute total of thy life's vast sum.
The constellations stand victorious o'er thee,
The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions,
And tell thee, ‘Now's the time!’ The starry courses
Hast thou thy life long measured to no purpose?
The quadrant and the circle, were they playthings?
[Pointing to the different objects in the room.
The zodiacs, the rolling orbs of heaven,
Hast pictured on these walls, and all around thee
In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed
These seven presiding Lords of Destiny—
For toys? Is all this preparation nothing?
Is there no marrow in this hollow art,
That even to thyself it doth avail
Nothing, and has no influence over thee
In the great moment of decision?—

Wallenstein
(interrupting the Countess).
Send Wrangel to me—I will instantly
Dispatch three couriers—

Illo
(hurrying out).
God in heaven be praised!

Wallenstein.
It is his evil genius and mine.
Our evil genius! It chastises him
Through me, the instrument of his ambition;
And I expect no less, than that Revenge
E'en now is whetting for my breast the poniard.
Who sows the serpent's teeth, let him not hope
To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime
Has, in the moment of its perpetration,
Its own avenging angel—dark misgiving,
An ominous sinking at the inmost heart.
He can no longer trust me—Then no longer
Can I retreat—so come that which must come.—
Still destiny preserves its due relations,
The heart within us is its absolute
Vicegerent.
[To Tertsky.
Go, conduct you Gustave Wrangel
To my state-cabinet.—Myself will speak to
The couriers.—And dispatch immediately
A servant for Octavio Piccolomini.
[To the Countess.
No exultation—woman, triumph not!
For jealous are the Powers of Destiny.
Joy premature, and shouts ere victory,
Incroach upon their rights and privileges.
We sow the seed, and they the growth determine.

[While he is making his exit the curtain drops.