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

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 concern'd.

WALLENST.

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 past 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 know'st, I neither brave nor fear thy rage.

What has detain'd me here, that too thou know'st.

[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. This 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.[28]

WALLENST.

Thou art describing thy own father's heart.

The adder! O, the charms of hell o'erpowered me;

He dwelt within me, to my inmost soul

Still to and fro he pass'd, 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 deliver'd 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 ta'en 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 accustom'd 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 return'd; and when thine eyes first open'd,

I had thee in my arms. Since then, when have

Alter'd 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 went

Our child and inmate.[29] Max! Thou cans't not leave me;

It cannot be; I may not, will not think

That Max can leave me.

MAX.

O my God!

WALLENSTEIN.

 
                                      I have
 

Held and sustain'd 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 mayst 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'rt 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 stepp'st 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

WALLENST.

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 bring'st thou, Terzky?

SCENE XX

To these TERZKY returning

TERZKY

Message and greeting from our faithful regiments.

Their ardor may no longer be curb'd 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.

 
                            O 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.

WALLENST.

What? shall this town become a field of slaughter,

And brother-killing Discord, fire-eyed,

Be let loose through its streets to roam and rage?

Shall the decision be deliver'd over

To deaf remorseless Rage, that hears no leader?

Here is not room for battle, only for butchery.

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

So let it burst them!

[Turns to MAX.]

 
                      Well, how is it with thee?
 

Wilt thou attempt a heat with me? Away!

Thou art free to go. Oppose thyself to me,

Front against front, and lead them to the battle;

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

I need not be ashamed of my opponent,

And never hadst thou fairer opportunity

To pay me for thy schooling.

COUNTESS.

 
                                Is it then,
 

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

Have you the heart?

MAX.

The regiments that are trusted to my care

I have pledged my troth to bring away from Pilsen

True to the Emperor; and this promise will I

Make good, or perish. More than this no duty

Requires of me. I will not fight against thee,

Unless compell'd; for though an enemy,

Thy head is holy to me still.

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

WALLENST.

What's that?

TERZKY.

He falls.

WALLENSTEIN.

Falls! Who?

ILLO.

 
                             Tiefenbach's corps
 

Discharged the ordnance.

WALLENSTEIN.

Upon whom?

ILLO.

 
                           On Neumann,
 

Your messenger.

WALLENSTEIN (starting up).

Ha! Death and hell! I will—

TERZKY.

Expose thyself to their blind frenzy?

DUCHESS and COUNTESS.

 
                             No!
 

For God's sake, no!

ILLO.

 
             Not yet, my General
 

O hold him! hold him!

WALLENSTEIN.

Leave me.

MAX.

 
                     Do it not;
 

Not yet! This rash and bloody deed has thrown them

Into a frenzy-fit—allow them time—

WALLENST.

Away! too long already have I loiter'd.

They are emboldened to these outrages,

Beholding not my face. They shall behold

My countenance, shall hear my voice—

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

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

Whether indeed they do no longer know

That countenance, which was their sun in battle!

From the balcony (mark!) I show myself

To these rebellious forces, and at once

Revolt is mounded, and the high-swoln current

Shrinks back into the old bed of obedience.

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

SCENE XXI

COUNTESS, DUCHESS, MAX and THEKLA

COUNTESS (to the DUCHESS).

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

DUCHESS.

Hope! I have none!

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

 
                            This can I not endure.
 

With most determined soul did I come hither;

My purposed action seem'd unblamable

To my own conscience—and I must stand here

Like one abhorr'd, a hard inhuman being:

Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love!

Must see all whom I love in this sore anguish,

Whom I with one word can make happy—O!

My heart revolts within me, and two voices

Make themselves audible within my bosom.

My soul's benighted; I no longer can

Distinguish the right track. O, well and truly

Didst thou say, father, I relied too much

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

know not what to do.

COUNTESS.

 
                       What! you know not?
 

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

Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor,

A frightful traitor to us—he has plotted

Against our General's life, has plunged us all

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

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

Outweigh the father's treason, that the name

Of Piccolomini be not a proverb

Of infamy, a common form of cursing

To the posterity of Wallenstein.

MAX.

Where is that voice of truth which I dare follow!

It speaks no longer in my heart. We all

But utter what our passionate wishes dictate:

O that an angel would descend from heaven,

And scoop for me the right, the uncorrupted,

With a pure hand from the pure fount of Light!

[His eyes glance on THEKLA.]

What other angel seek I? To this heart,

To this unerring heart, will I submit it;

Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless

The happy man alone, averted ever

From the disquieted and guilty—canst thou

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

And I am the Duke's—

COUNTESS.

Think, niece—

MAX.

 
                           Think, nothing, Thekla!
 

Speak what thou feelest.

COUNTESS.

Think upon your father.

MAX.

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

Thee, the beloved and the unerring god

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

Not whether diadem of royalty

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

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

The fortune of a thousand gallant men,

Who will all follow me; shall I forswear

My oath and duty to the Emperor?

Say, shall I send into Octavio's camp

The parricidal ball? For when the ball

Has left its cannon, and is on its flight,

It is no longer a dead instrument!

It lives, a spirit passes into it,

The avenging furies seize possession of it,

And with sure malice guide it the worst way.

THEIKLA.

O! Max—

MAX (interrupting her).

 
        Nay, not precipitately either, Thekla,
 

I understand thee. To thy noble heart

The hardest duty might appear the highest.

The human, not the great part, would I act

Even from my childhood to this present hour.

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

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

O likewise the free lovely impulses

Of hospitality, the pious friend's

Faithful attachment, these, too, are a holy

Religion to the heart; and heavily

The shudderings of nature do avenge

Themselves on the barbarian that insults them.

Lay all upon the balance, all—then speak,

And let thy heart decide it.

THEKLA.

 
                         O, thy own
 

Hath long ago decided. Follow thou

Thy heart's first feeling—

COUNTESS.

Oh! ill-fated woman.

THEKLA.

Is it possible that that can be the right,

The which thy tender heart did not at first

Detect and seize with instant impulse? Go,

Fulfil thy duty! I should ever love thee

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

Nobly and worthy of thee—but repentance

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

MAX.

 
                             Then I
 

Must leave thee, must part from thee!

THEKLA.

 
                           Being faithful
 

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

If our fates part, our hearts remain united.

A bloody hatred will divide forever

The houses Piccolomini and Friedland;

But we belong not to our houses. Go!

Quick! quick! and separate thy righteous cause

From our unholy and unblessèd one!

The curse of Heaven lies upon our head:

'Tis dedicate to ruin. Even me

My father's guilt drags with it to perdition.

Mourn not for me:

My destiny will quickly be decided.

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

SCENE XXII

To the above enter TERZKY

COUNTESS (meeting him).

What meant that cry? What was it?

TERZKY.

All is lost!

COUNTESS.

What! they regarded not his countenance?

TERZKY.

'Twas all in vain.

DUCHESS.

They shouted Vivat!—

TERZKY.

To the Emperor.

COUNTESS.

The traitors!

TERZIBY.

 
            Nay! he was not permitted
 

Even to address them. Soon as he began,

With deafening noise of warlike instruments

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

SCENE XXIII

To these enter WALLENSTEIN, accompanied by ILLO and BUTLER

WALLENSTEIN (as he enters).

Terzky!

TERZKY.

My General!

WALLENSTEIN.

 
            Let our regiments hold themselves
 

In readiness to march; for we shall leave

Pilsen ere evening.

[Exit TERZKY.]

Butler!

BUTLER.

Yes, my General.

WALLENST.

The Governor of Egra is your friend

And countryman. Write to him instantly

By a post-courier. He must be advised,

That we are with him early on the morrow.

You follow us yourself, your regiment with you.

BUTLER.

It shall be done, my General!

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

Part!

MAX.

O God!

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

WALLENSTEIN (to the Cuirassiers).

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

No longer.

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

MAX.

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

Without thee! I go forth into a desert,

Leaving my all behind me. O do not turn

Thine eyes away from me! O once more show me

Thy ever dear and honor'd countenance!

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

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

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

My mother!

DUCHESS.

 
        Go where duty calls you. Haply
 

The time may come, when you may prove to us

A true friend, a good angel at the throne

Of the Emperor.

MAX.

 
             You give me hope; you would not
 

Suffer me wholly to despair. No! no!

Mine is a certain misery. Thanks to Heaven!

That offers me a means of ending it.

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

And you here, Colonel Butler—and will you

Not follow me? Well, then! remain more faithful

To your new lord than you have proved yourself

To the Emperor. Come, Butler! promise me,

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

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

He is attainted, and his princely head

Fair booty for each slave that trades in murder.

Now he doth need the faithful eye of friendship,

And those whom here I see—

[Casting suspicious looks on ILLO and BUTLER.]

ILLO.

Go—seek for traitors

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

Is only one. Away! away! and free us

From his detested sight! Away!

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

MAX.

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

And all the naked swords, which I see here,

Were plunged into my breast! What purpose you?

You come to tear me from this place! Beware,

Ye drive me not to desperation. Do it not!

Ye may repent it!

[The stage is entirely filled with armed men.]

Yet more! weight upon weight to drag me down!

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

To choose a man despairing for your leader;

You tear me from my happiness. Well, then,

I dedicate your souls to vengeance. Mark!

For your own ruin you have chosen me:

Who goes with me, must be prepared to perish.

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

ACT IV

SCENE I

The Burgomaster's House at Egra

BUTLER (just arrived).

Here then he is, by his destiny conducted.

Here, Friedland! and no farther! From Bohemia

Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile,

And here upon the borders of Bohemia

Must sink.

 
           Thou hast foresworn the ancient colors,
 

Blind man! yet trustest to thy ancient fortunes.

Profaner of the altar and the hearth,

Against thy Emperor and fellow citizens

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

The evil spirit of revenge impels thee—

Beware thou, that revenge destroy thee not!