Chapter IX: Act V: Scene I

_Butler's Chamber_.

BUTLER _and_ MAJOR GERALDIN

BUTLER.

Find me twelve strong dragoons, arm them with pikes, For there must be no firing-- Conceal them somewhere near the banquet-room, And soon as the dessert is served up, rush all in And cry--"Who is loyal to the Emperor!" I will overturn the table--while you attack Illo and Terzky and dispatch them both. The castle-palace is well barr'd and guarded, That no intelligence of this proceeding May make its way to the Duke. Go instantly; Have you yet sent for Captain Devereux And the Macdonald?--

GERALDIN.

They'll be here anon.

[_Exit_ GERALDIN.]

BUTLER.

Here's no room for delay. The citizens Declare for him, a dizzy drunken spirit Possesses the whole town. They see in the Duke A Prince of peace, a founder of new ages And golden times. Arms too have been given out By the town-council, and a hundred citizens Have volunteered themselves to stand on guard. Dispatch! then, be the word; for enemies Threaten us from without and from within.

SCENE II

BUTLER, CAPTAIN DEVEREUX, _and_ MACDONALD

MACDON.

Here we are, General.

DEVEREUX.

What's to be the watchword?

BUTLER.

Long live the Emperor!

BOTH _(recoiling)._

How?

BUTLER.

Live the House of Austria.

DEVEREUX.

Have we not sworn fidelity to Friedland?

MACDON.

Have we not march'd to this place to protect him?

BUTLER.

Protect a traitor, and his country's enemy?

DEVEREUX.

Why, yes! in his name you administer'd Our oath.

MACDONALD.

And follow'd him yourself to Egra.

BUTLER.

I did it the more surely to destroy him.

DEVEREUX.

So then!

MACDONALD.

An alter'd case!

BUTLER (_to_ DEVEREUX).

Thou wretched man,
So easily leavest thou thy oath and colors?

DEVEREUX.

The devil!--I but follow'd your example, If you could prove a villain, why not we?

MACDON.

We've nought to do with _thinking_--that's your business. You are our General, and give out the orders; We follow you, though the track lead to hell.

BUTLER _(appeased)_.

Good then! we know each other.

MACDONALD.

I should hope so.

DEVEREUX.

Soldiers of fortune are we--who bids most, He has us.

MACDONALD.

'Tis e'en so!

BUTLER.

Well, for the present
Ye must remain honest and faithful soldiers.

DEVEREUX.

We wish no other.

BUTLER.

Ay, and make your fortunes.

MACRON.

That is still better.
Listen!

BOTH.

We attend.

BUTLER.

It is the Emperor's will and ordinance To seize the person of the Prince-Duke Friedland, Alive or dead.

DEVEREUX.

It runs so in the letter.

MACRON.

Alive or dead-these were the very words.

BUTLER.

And he shall be rewarded from the State In land and gold, who proffers aid thereto.

DEVEREUX.

Ay! that sounds well. The _words_ sound always well That travel hither from the Court. Yes! yes! We know already what Court-words import. A golden chain perhaps in sign of favor, Or an old charger, or a parchment patent, And such like--The Prince-Duke pays better.

MACDONALD.

Yes
The Duke's a splendid paymaster.

BUTLER.

All over
With that, my friends! His lucky stars are set.

MACDON.

And is that certain?

BUTLER.

You have my word for it.

DEVEREUX.

His lucky fortunes all past by?

BUTLER.

Forever
He is as poor as we.

MACDONALD.

As poor as we?

DEVEREUX.

Macdonald, we'll desert him.

BUTLER.

We'll desert him? Full twenty thousand have done that already; We must do more, my countrymen! In short-- We--we must kill him.

BOTH _(starting back_).

Kill him!

BUTLER.

Yes, must kill him;
And for that purpose have I chosen you.

BOTH.

Us!

BUTLER.

You, Captain Devereux, and thee, Macdonald.

DEVEREUX _(after a pause)_.

Choose you some other.

BUTLER.

What! art dastardly? Thou, with full thirty lives to answer for-- Thou conscientious of a sudden?

DEVEREUX.

Nay
To assassinate our Lord and General--

MACDON.

To whom we've sworn a soldier's oath

BUTLER.

The oath
Is null, for Friedland is a traitor.

DEVEREUX.

No, no! it is too bad!

MACDONALD.

Yes, by my soul!
It is too bad. One has a conscience too--

DEVEREUX.

If it were not our Chieftain, who so long Has issued the commands, and claim'd our duty--

BUTLER.

Is that the objection?

DEVEREUX.

Were it my own father, And the Emperor's service should demand it of me, It might be done perhaps--But we are soldiers, And to assassinate our Chief Commander-- That is a sin, a foul abomination, From which no monk or confessor absolves us.

BUTLER.

I am your Pope, and give you absolution. Determine quickly!

DEVEREUX.

'Twill not do.

MACDONALD.

'Twont do!

BUTLER.

Well, off then! and--send Pestalutz to me.

DEVEREUX _(hesitates)._

The Pestalutz--

MACDONALD.

What may you want with him?

BUTLER.

If you reject it, we can find enough--

DEVEREUX.

Nay, if he must fall, we may earn the bounty As well as any other. What think you, Brother Macdonald?

MACDONALD.

Why, if he must fall, And will fall, and it can't be otherwise, One would not give place to this Pestalutz.

DEVEREUX _(after some reflection)_.

When do you purpose he should fall?

BUTLER.

This night.
Tomorrow will the Swedes be at our gates.

DEVEREUX.

You take upon you all the consequences

BUTLER.

I take the whole upon me.

DEVEREUX.

And it is The Emperor's will, his express absolute will? For we have instances, that folks may like The murder, and yet hang the murderer.

BUTLER.

The manifesto says--"alive or dead." Alive--'tis not possible--you see it is not.

DEVEREUX.

Well, dead then! dead! But how can we come at him? The town is filled with Terzky's soldiery.

MACDON.

Ay! and then Terzky still remains, and Illo--

BUTLER.

With these you shall begin--you understand me?

DEVEREUX.

How! And must they too perish?

BUTLER.

They the first.

MACDON.

Hear, Devereux! A bloody evening this.

DEVEREUX.

Have you a man for that? Commission me--

BUTLER.

'Tis given in trust to Major Geraldin; This is a carnival night, and there's a feast Given at the castle--there we shall surprise them, And hew them down. The Pestalutz and Lesley Have that commission. Soon as that is finish'd--

DEVEREUX.

Hear, General! It will be all one to you-- Hark ye, let me exchange with Geraldin.

BUTLER.

'Twill be the lesser danger with the Duke.

DEVEREUX.

Danger! The Devil! What do you think me, General? 'Tis the Duke's eye, and not his sword, I fear.

BUTLER.

What can his eye do to thee?

DEVEREUX.

Death and hell! Thou know'st that I'm no milksop, General! But 'tis not eight days since the Duke did send me Twenty gold pieces for this good warm coat Which I have on! and then for him to see me Standing before him with the pike, his murderer, That eye of his looking upon this coat-- Why--why--the devil fetch me! I'm no milksop!

BUTLER.

The Duke presented thee this good warm coat, And thou, a needy wight, hast pangs of conscience To run him through the body in return? A coat that is far better and far warmer Did the Emperor give to him, the Prince's mantle. How doth he thank the Emperor? With revolt, And treason.

DEVEREUX.

That is true. The devil take
Such thinkers! I'll dispatch him.

BUTLER.

And would'st quiet Thy conscience, thou hast nought to do but simply Pull off the coat; so canst thou do the deed With light heart and good spirits.

DEVEREUX.

You are right, That did not strike me. I'll pull off the coat-- So there's an end of it.

MACDONALD.

Yes, but there's another
Point to be thought of.

BUTLER.

And what's that, Macdonald?

MACDON.

What avails sword or dagger against _him?_ He is not to be wounded--he is--

BUTLER (_starting up_).

What?

MACDON.

Safe against shot, and stab, and flesh! Hard frozen, Secured and warranted by the black art! His body is impenetrable, I tell you.

DEVEREUX.

In Ingolstadt there was just such another: His whole skin was the same as steel; at last We were obliged to beat him down with gun-stocks.

MACDON.

Hear what I'll do.

DEVEREUX.

Well.

MACDONALD.

In the cloister here There's a Dominican, my countryman. I'll make him dip my sword and pike for me In holy water, and say over them One of his strongest blessings. That's probatum! Nothing can stand 'gainst that.

BUTLER.

So do, Macdonald! But now go and select from out the regiment Twenty or thirty able-bodied fellows, And let them take the oaths to the Emperor. Then when it strikes eleven, when the first rounds Are pass'd, conduct them silently as may be To the house--I will myself be not far off.

DEVEREUX.

But how do we get through Hartschier and Gordon, That stand on guard there in the inner chamber?

BUTLER.

I have made myself acquainted with the place, I lead you through a back door that's defended By one man only. Me my rank and office Give access to the Duke at every hour. I'll go before you--with one poniard-stroke Cut Hartschier's windpipe, and make way for you.

DEVEREUX.

And when we are there, by what means shall we gain The Duke's bed-chamber, without his alarming The servants of the Court? For he has here A numerous company of followers.

BUTLER.

The attendants fill the right wing: he hates bustle, And lodges in the left wing quite alone.

DEVEREUX.

Were it well over--hey, Macdonald? I Feel queerly on the occasion, devil knows!

MACDON.

And I too. 'Tis too great a personage. People will hold us for a brace of villains.

BUTLER.

In plenty, honor, splendor--you may safely Laugh at the people's babble.

DEVEREUX.

If the business
Squares with one's honor--if that be quite certain--

BUTLER.

Set your hearts quite at ease. Ye save for Ferdinand His crown and empire. The reward can be No small one.

DEVEREUX.

And 'tis his purpose to dethrone the Emperor?

BUTLER.

Yes!--Yes!--to rob him of his crown and life.

DEVEREUX.

And he must fall by the executioner's hands, Should we deliver him up to the Emperor Alive?

BUTLER.

It were his certain destiny.

DEVEREUX.

Well! Well! Come then, Macdonald, he shall not Lie long in pain.

[_Exeunt_ BUTLER _through one door_, MACDONALD _and_ DEVEREUX _through the other_.]

SCENE III

_A Saloon, terminated by a Gallery which extends far into the background_.

WALLENSTEIN _Sitting at a table. The_ SWEDISH CAPTAIN _standing before him_.

WALLENST.

Commend me to your lord. I sympathize In his good fortune; and if you have seen me Deficient in the expressions; of that joy, Which such a victory might well demand, Attribute it to no lack of good will, For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell, And for your trouble take my thanks. Tomorrow The citadel shall be surrendered to you On your arrival.

[_The_ SWEDISH CAPTAIN _retires_. WALLENSTEIN _sits lost in thought, his eyes fixed vacantly, and his head sustained by his hand. The_ COUNTESS TERZKY _enters, stands before him for awhile, unobserved by him; at length he starts, sees her and recollects himself_.]

WALLENST.

Comest thou from her? Is she restored? How is she?

COUNTESS.

My sister tells me, she was more collected After her conversation with the Swede. She has now retired to rest.

WALLENSTEIN.

The pang will soften;
She will shed tears.

COUNTESS.

I find thee alter'd too, My brother! After such a victory I had expected to have found in thee A cheerful spirit. O remain _thou_ firm! Sustain, uphold us! For our light thou art, Our sun.

WALLENSTEIN.

Be quiet. I ail nothing. Where's Thy husband?

COUNTESS.

At a banquet--he and Illo.

WALLENSTEIN _(rises and strides across the saloon)_.

The night's far spent. Betake thee to thy chamber.

COUNTESS.

Bid me not go, O let me stay with thee!

WALLENSTEIN _(moves to the window)_.

There is a busy motion in the Heaven, The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower, Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle[34] of the moon, Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light; No form of star is visible! That one White stain of light, that single glimmering yonder, Is from Cassiopeia, and therein Is Jupiter.

(_A pause_).

But now The blackness of the troubled element hides him! [_He sinks into profound melancholy, and looks vacantly into the distance_.]

COUNTESS (_looks on him mournfully, then grasps his hand_).

What art thou brooding on?

WALLENSTEIN.

Methinks, If I but saw him, 'twould be well with me. He is the star of my nativity, And often marvelously hath his aspect Shot strength into my heart.

COUNTESS.

Thou'lt see him again.

WALLENSTEIN _(remains for a while, with, absent mind, then assumes a livelier manner, and turning suddenly to the_ COUNTESS).

See him again? O never, never again!

COUNTESS.

How?

WALLENSTEIN.

He is gone--is dust.

COUNTESS.

Whom meanest thou, then?

WALLENST.

He, the more fortunate! yea, he hath finish'd! For him there is no longer any future, His life is bright--bright without spot it _was_, And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap; Far off is he, above desire and fear; No more submitted to the change and chance Of the unsteady planets. O 'tis well With him! but who knows what the coming hour Veil'd in thick darkness brings for us?

COUNTESS.

Thou speakest Of Piccolomini. What was his death? The courier had just left thee as I came.

[WALLENSTEIN _by a motion of his hand makes signs to her to be silent._]

Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view, Let us look forward into sunny days, Welcome with joyous heart the victory, Forget what it has cost thee. Not today, For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead; To thee he died, when first he parted from thee.

WALLENST.

This anguish will be wearied down,[35] I know; What pang is permanent with man? From the highest, As from the vilest thing of every day, He learns to wean himself: for the strong hours Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost In him. The bloom is vanish'd from my life; For O! he stood beside me, like my youth, Transform'd for me the real to a dream, Clothing the palpable and the familiar With golden exhalations of the dawn. Whatever fortunes wait my future toils, The _beautiful_ is vanish'd--and returns not.

COUNTESS.

O be not treacherous to thy own power. Thy heart is rich enough to vivify Itself. Thou lovest and prizest virtues in him, The which thyself didst plant, thyself unfold.

WALLENSTEIN _(stepping to the door_).

Who interrupts us now at this late hour? It is the Governor. He brings the keys Of the Citadel. 'Tis midnight. Leave me, sister!

COUNTESS.

O 'tis so hard to me this night to leave thee-- A boding fear possesses me!

WALLENSTEIN.

Fear! Wherefore?

COUNTESS.

Shouldst thou depart this night, and we at waking Never more find thee!

WALLENSTEIN.

Fancies!

COUNTESS.

O my soul Has long been weigh'd down by these dark fore-bodings, And if I combat and repel them waking, They will crush down upon my heart in dreams. I saw thee yesternight with thy first wife Sit at a banquet, gorgeously attired.

WALLENST.

This was a dream of favorable omen, That marriage being the founder of my fortunes.

COUNTESS.

Today I dreamt that I was seeking thee In thy own chamber. As I enter'd, lo! It was no more a chamber: the Chartreuse At Gitschin 'twas, which thou thyself hast founded, And where it is thy will that thou should'st be Interr'd.

WALLENSTEIN.

Thy soul is busy with these thoughts.

COUNTESS.

What! dost thou not believe that oft in dreams A voice of warning speaks prophetic to us?

WALTENST.

There is no doubt that there exist such voices; Yet I would not call _them_ Voices of warning that announce to us Only the inevitable. As the sun, Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits Of great events stride on before the events, And in today already walks tomorrow. That which we read of the fourth Henry's death Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale Of my own future destiny. The king Felt in his breast the phantom of the knife, Long ere Ravaillac arm'd himself therewith. His quiet mind forsook him: the phantasma Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth Into the open air: like funeral knells Sounded that coronation festival; And still with boding sense he heard the tread Of those feet that even then were seeking him Throughout the streets of Paris.

COUNTESS.

And to _thee_
The voice within thy soul bodes nothing?

WALLENSTEIN.

Nothing.
Be wholly tranquil.

COUNTESS.

And another time I hasten'd after thee, and thou ran'st from me Through a long suite, through many a spacious hall. There seem'd no end of it: doors creak'd and clapp'd; I follow'd panting, but could not o'ertake thee; When on a sudden did I feel myself Grasp'd from behind--the hand was cold that grasped me-- 'Twas thou, and thou didst kiss me, and there seem'd A crimson covering to envelop us.

WALLENST. That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber.

COUNTESS _(gazing on him)._ If it should come to that--if I should see thee, Who standest now before me in the fulness Of life--

_[She falls on his breast and weeps_.]

WALLENST.

The Emperor's proclamation weighs upon thee-- Alphabets wound not--and he finds no hands.

COUNTESS.

If he _should_ find them, my resolve is taken-- I bear about me my support and refuge.

[_Exit_ COUNTESS.]

SCENE IV

WALLENSTEIN, GORDON

WALLENST.

All quiet in the town?

GORDON.

The town is quiet.

WALLENST.

I hear a boisterous music! and the Castle Is lighted up. Who are the revellers?

GORDON.

There is a banquet given at the Castle To the Count Terzky and Field Marshal Illo.

WALLENST.

In honor of the victory--This tribe Can show their joy in nothing else but feasting.

[_Rings. The_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _enters_.]

Unrobe me. I will lay me down to sleep.

[WALLENSTEIN _takes the keys from_ GORDON.]

So we are guarded from all enemies, And shut in with sure friends; For all must cheat me, or a face like this

[_Fixing his eye on_ GORDON.]

Was ne'er a hypocrite's mask.

[_The_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _takes off his mantle, collar, and scarf._]

WALLENSTEIN.

Take care--what is that?

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER.

The golden chain is snapped in two.

WALLENST.

Well, it has lasted long enough. Here--give it.

[_He takes and looks at the chain_.]

'Twas the first present of the Emperor. He hung it round me in the war of Friule, He being then Archduke; and I have worn it Till now from habit-- From superstition, if you will. Belike, It was to be a talisman to me; And while I wore it on my neck in faith, It was to chain to me all my life long The volatile fortune, whose first pledge it was-- Well, be it so! Henceforward a new fortune Must spring up for me; for the potency Of this charm is dissolved.

[GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _retires with the vestments._ WALLENSTEIN _rises, takes a stride across the room, and stands at last before_ GORDON _in a posture of meditation_.]

How the old time returns upon me! I Behold myself once more at Burgau, where We two were Pages of the Court together. We oftentimes disputed: thy intention Was ever good; but thou wert wont to play The Moralist and Preacher, and wouldst rail at me-- That I strove after things too high for me, Giving my faith to bold unlawful dreams, And still extol to me the golden mean-- Thy wisdom hath been proved a thriftless friend To thy own self. See, it has made thee early A superannuated man, and (but That my munificent stars will intervene) Would let thee in some miserable corner Go out like an untended lamp.

GORDON.

My Prince! With light heart the poor fisher moors his boat, And watches from the shore the lofty ship Stranded amid the storm.

WALLENSTEIN.

Art thou already In harbor then, old man? Well! I am not. The unconquer'd spirit drives me o'er life's billows; My planks still firm, my canvas swelling proudly. Hope is my goddess still, and Youth my inmate; And while we stand thus front to front almost I might presume to say that the swift years Have passed by powerless o'er my unblanched hair.

_[He moves with long strides across the Saloon, and remains on the opposite side over against_ GORDON.]

Who now persists in calling Fortune false? To me she has proved faithful; with fond love Took me from out the common ranks of men, And like a mother goddess, with strong arm Carried me swiftly up the steps of life. Nothing is common in my destiny, Nor in the furrows of my hand. Who dares Interpret then my life for me as 'twere One of the undistinguishable many? True, in this present moment I appear Fallen low indeed; but I shall rise again. The high flood will soon follow on this ebb; The fountain of my fortune, which now stops Repress'd and bound by some malicious star, Will soon in joy play forth from all its pipes.

GORDON.

And yet remember I the good old proverb, "Let the night come before we praise the day." I would be slow from long-continued fortune To gather hope: for Hope is the companion Given to the unfortunate by pitying Heaven. Fear hovers round the head of prosperous men; For still unsteady are the scales of fate.

WALLENSTEIN _(smiling_).

I hear the very Gordon that of old Was wont to preach, now once more preaching; I know well that all sublunary things Are still the vassals of vicissitude. The unpropitious gods demand their tribute; This long ago the ancient Pagans knew: And therefore of their own accord they offer'd To themselves injuries, so to atone The jealousy of their divinities: And human sacrifices bled to Typhon.

[_After a pause, serious, and in a more subdued manner._]

I too have sacrificed to him--For me There fell the dearest friend, and through my fault He fell! No joy from favorable fortune Can overweight the anguish of this stroke. The envy of my destiny is glutted Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightning Was drawn off which would else have shatter'd _me_.

SCENE V

_To these enter_ SENI

WALLENST.

Is not that Seni! and beside himself, If one may trust his looks? What brings thee hither At this late hour, Baptista?

SENI.

Terror, Duke!
On thy account.

WALLENSTEIN.

What now?

SENI.

Flee ere the day break!
Trust not thy person to the Swedes!

WALLENSTEIN.

What now
Is in thy thoughts?

SENI (_with louder voice_).

Trust not thy person to the Swedes.

WALLENSTEIN.

What is it, then?

SENI (_still more urgently_).

O wait not the arrival of these Swedes! An evil near at hand is threatening thee From false friends. All the signs stand full of horror! Near, near at hand the net-work of perdition-- Yea, even now 'tis being cast around thee!

WALLENST.

Baptista, thou art dreaming!--Fear befools thee.

SENI.

Believe not that an empty fear deludes me. Come, read it in the planetary aspects; Read it thyself that ruin threatens thee From false friends.

WALLENSTEIN.

From the falseness of my friends Has risen the whole of my unprosperous fortunes. The warning should have come before! At present I need no revelation from the stars To know that.

SENI.

Come and see! trust thine own eyes! A fearful sign stands in the house of life-- An enemy; a fiend lurks close behind The radiance of thy planet.--O be warn'd! Deliver not up thyself to these heathens, To wage a war against our holy church.

WALLENSTEIN (_laughing gently_).

The oracle rails that way! Yes, yes! Now I recollect. This junction with the Swedes Did never please thee--lay thyself to sleep, Baptista! Signs like these I do not fear.

GORDON (_who during the whole of this dialogue has shown marks of extreme agitation, and now turns to_ WALLENSTEIN).

My Duke and General! May I dare presume?

WALLENST.

Speak freely.

GORDON.

What if 'twere no mere creation Of fear, if God's high providence vouchsafed To interpose its aid for your deliverance, And made that mouth its organ?

WALLENSTEIN.

Ye're both feverish! How can mishap come to me from the Swedes! They sought this junction with me--'tis their interest.

GORDON _(with difficulty suppressing his emotion)_.

But what if the arrival of these Swedes-- What if this were the very thing that wing'd The ruin that is flying to your temples?

[_Flings himself at his feet_.]

There is yet time, my Prince.

SENI.

O hear him! hear him!

GORDON _(rises)_.

The Rhinegrave's still far off. Give but the orders, This citadel shall close its gates upon him. If then he will besiege us, let him try it. But this I say; he'll find his own destruction With his whole force before these ramparts, sooner Than weary down the valor of our spirit. He shall experience what a band of heroes, Inspirited by an heroic leader, Is able to perform. And if indeed It be thy serious wish to make amend For that which thou hast done amiss--this, this Will touch and reconcile the Emperor, Who gladly turns his heart to thoughts of mercy And Friedland, who returns repentant to him, Will stand yet higher in his Emperor's favor Than e'er he stood when he had never fallen.

WALLENSTEIN (_contemplates him with surprise, remains awhile, betraying strong emotion_).

Gordon--your zeal and fervor lead you far. Well, well--an old friend has a privilege. Blood, Gordon, has been flowing. Never, never Can the Emperor pardon me; and if he could, Yet I--I never could let myself be pardon'd. Had I foreknown what now has taken place, That he, my dearest friend, would fall for me My first death-offering; and had the heart Spoken to me, as now it has done--Gordon, It may be, I might have bethought myself; It may be too, I might not. Might or might not Is now an idle question. All too seriously Has it begun to end in nothing, Gordon! Let it then have its course.

[_Stepping to the window._]

All dark and silent-at the castle too All is now hush'd--Light me, Chamberlain!

[_The_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER, _who had entered during the last dialogue, and had been standing at a distance and listening to it with visible expressions of the deepest interest, advances in extreme agitation, and throws himself at the_ DUKE'S _feet._]

And thou too! But I know why thou dost wish My reconcilement with the Emperor. Poor man! he hath a small estate in Carinthia, And fears it will be forfeited because He's in my service. Am I then so poor That I no longer can indemnify My servants? Well! to no one I employ Means of compulsion. If 'tis thy belief That fortune has fled from me, go! forsake me. This night for the last time mayst thou unrobe me, And then go over to thy Emperor. Gordon, good night! I think to make a long Sleep of it: for the struggle and the turmoil Of this last day or two was great. May't please you! Take care that they awake me not too early.

[_Exit_ WALLENSTEIN, _the_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _lighting him_.SENI _follows_, GORDON _remains on the darkened stage, following the_ DUKE _with his eye, till he disappears at the farther end of the gallery: then by his gestures the old man expresses the depth of his anguish and stands leaning against a pillar._]

SCENE VI

GORDON, BUTLER (_at first behind the scenes_)

BUTLER (_not yet come into view of the stage_).

Here stand in silence till I give the signal.

GORDON (_starts up_).

'Tis he! he has already brought the murderers.

BUTLER.

The lights are out. All lies in profound sleep.

GORDON. What shall I do? Shall I attempt to save him? Shall I call up the house? alarm the guards?

BUTLER (_appears, but scarcely on the stage_).

A light gleams hither from the corridor. It leads directly to the Duke's bed-chamber.

GORDON.

But then I break my oath to the Emperor; If he escape and strengthen the enemy, Do I not hereby call down on my head All the dread consequences?

BUTLER (_stepping forward_).

Hark! Who speaks there?

GORDON.

'Tis better, I resign it to the hands Of Providence. For what am I, that I Should take upon myself so great a deed? I have not murdered him, if he be murder'd; But all his rescue were _my_ act and deed; _Mine_--and whatever be the consequences, I must sustain them.

BUTLER (_advances_).

I should know that voice.

GORDON.

Butler!

BUTLER.

'Tis Gordon. What do _you_ want here?
Was it so late then, when the Duke dismiss'd you?

GORDON.

Your hand bound up and in a scarf?

BUTLER.

'Tis wounded. That Illo fought as he were frantic, till At last we threw him on the ground.

GORDON (_shuddering_). Both dead?

BUTLER.

Is he in bed?

GORDON.

Ah, Butler!

BUTLER.

Is he? speak.

GORDON.

He shall _not_ perish! Not through you! The Heaven Refuses _your_ arm. See--'tis wounded!--

BUTLER.

There is no need of my arm.

GORDON.

The most guilty
Have perish'd, and enough is given to justice.

[_The_ GROOM OF THE CHAMBER _advances from the Gallery with his finger on his mouth commanding silence_.]

GORDON.

He sleeps! O murder not the holy sleep!

BUTLER.

No! he shall die awake.

[_Is going_.]

GORDON.

His heart still cleaves To earthly things: he's not prepared to step Into the presence of his God!

BUTLER (_going_).

God's merciful!

GORDON (_holds him_).

Grant him but this night's respite.

BUTLER (_hurrying off_)

The next moment
May ruin all.

GORDON _(holds him still_).

One hour!--

BUTLER. Unhold me! What Can that short respite profit him?

GORDON.

O--Time Works miracles. In one hour many thousands Of grains of sand run out; and quick as they, Thought follows thought within the human soul. Only one hour! _Your_ heart may change its purpose, _His_ heart may change its purpose--some new tidings May come; some fortunate event, decisive, May fall from Heaven and rescue him. O what May not one hour achieve!

BUTLER.

You but remind me, How precious every minute is!

[_He stamps on the floor._]

SCENE VII

_To these enter_ MACDONALD _and_ DEVEREUX, _with the_ HALBERDIERS

GORDON (_throwing himself between him and them_).

No, monster! First over my dead body thou shalt tread. I will not live to see the accursed deed!

BUTLER (_forcing him out of the way_).

Weak-hearted dotard!

[_Trumpets are heard in the distance_.]

DEVEREUX _and_ MACDONALD.

Hark! the Swedish trumpets! The Swedes before the ramparts! Let us hasten!

GORDON (_rushes out_).

O, God of mercy!

BUTLER (_calling after him_).

Governor, to your post!

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER (_hurries in_).

Who dares make larum here? Hush! The Duke sleeps.

DEVEREUX (_with loud harsh voice_).

Friend, it is time now to make larum.

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER.

Help!
Murder!

BUTLER.

Down with him!

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER (_run through the body by_ DEVEREUX, _falls at the entrance of the Gallery_).

Jesus Maria!

BUTLER.

Burst the doors open.

[_They rush over the body into the Gallery--two doors are heard to crash one after the other.--Voices, deadened by the distance--clash of arms--then all at once a profound silence._]

SCENE VIII

COUNTESS TERZKY (_with a light_).

Her bed-chamber is empty; she herself Is nowhere to be found! The Neubrunn too, Who watch'd by her, is missing. If she should Be flown--but whither flown? We must call up Every soul in the house. How will the Duke Bear up against these worst bad tidings? O If that my husband now were but return'd Home from the banquet!--Hark! I wonder whether The Duke is still awake! I thought I heard Voices and tread of feet here! I will go And listen at the door. Hark! what is that? 'Tis hastening up the steps!

SCENE IX

COUNTESS, GORDON

GORDON (_rushes in out of breath_).

'Tis a mistake! 'Tis not the Swedes--Ye must proceed no further Butler!--O God! where is he?

GORDON (_observing the_ COUNTESS).

Countess! Say--

COUNTESS.

You are come then from the castle? Where's my husband?

GORDON (_in an agony of affright)_.

Your husband!--Ask not!--To the Duke--

COUNTESS.

Not till
You have discover'd to me--

GORDON.

On this moment Does the world hang. For God's sake! to the Duke. While we are speaking--

[_Calling loudly_.]

Butler! Butler! God!

COUNTESS.

Why, he is at the castle with my husband.

[BUTLER _comes from the Gallery_.]

GORDON.

'Twas a mistake--'Tis not the Swedes--it is The Imperialists' Lieutenant-General Has sent me hither--will be here himself Instantly.--You must not proceed.

BUTLER.

He comes
Too late.

[GORDON _dashes himself against the wall_.]

GORDON.

O God of mercy!

COUNTESS.

What too late? Who will be here himself? Octavio In Egra? Treason! Treason!--Where's the Duke?

[_She rushes to the Gallery._]

SCENE X

_Servants run across the Stage, full of terror. The whole Scene must be spoken entirely without pauses_.

SENI (_from the Gallery_).

A bloody, frightful deed!

COUNTESS.

What is it, Seni?

PAGE (_from the Gallery_).

O piteous sight!

[_Other servants hasten in with torches_.]

COUNTESS.

What is it? For God's sake!

SENI.

And do you ask? Within, the Duke lies murder'd--and your husband Assassinated at the Castle.

[_The_ COUNTESS _stands motionless_.]

FEMALE SERVANT (_rushing across the stage_).

Help! help! the Duchess!

BURGOMASTER (_enters_).

What mean these confused
Loud cries that wake the sleepers of this house?

GORDON.

Your house is cursed to all eternity. In your house doth the Duke lie murder'd!

BURGOMASTER (_rushing out_).

Heaven forbid!

1ST SERV.

Fly! fly! they murder us all!

SECOND SERVANT (_carrying silver plate_).

That way! the lower
Passages are block'd up.

VOICE (_from behind the Scene_).

Make room for the Lieutenant-General!

[_At these words the_ COUNTESS _starts from her stupor, collects herself, and retires suddenly_.]

VOICE (_from behind the Scene_).

Keep back the people! Guard the door!

SCENE XI

_To these enter_ OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI _with all his train. At the same time_ DEVEREUX _and_ MACDONALD _enter from out the Corridor with the Halberdiers_.--WALLENSTEIN'S _dead body is carried over the back part of the stage, wrapped in a piece of crimson tapestry_.

OCTAVIO (_entering abruptly_).

It must not be! It is not possible! Butler! Gordon! I'll not believe it. Say no!

[GORDON, _without answering, points with his hand to the body of_ WALLENSTEIN _as it is carried over the back of the stage._ OCTAVIO _looks that way, and stands overpowered with horror._]

DEVEREUX (_to_ BUTLER).

Here is the golden fleece--the Duke's Sword--

MACRON.

Is it your order--

BUTLER (_pointing to_ OCTAVIO).

Here stands he who now
Hath the sole power to issue orders.

[DEVEREUx _and_ MACDONALD _retire with marks of obeisance. One drops away after the other, till only_ BUTLER, OCTAVIO, _and_ GORDON _remain on the stage.]_

OCTAVIO (_turning to_ BUTLER).

Was that my purpose, Butler, when we parted? O God of Justice! To thee I lift my hand! I am not guilty Of this foul deed.

BUTLER.

Your _hand_ is pure. You have Avail'd yourself of mine.

OCTAVIO.

Merciless man! Thus to abuse the orders of thy Lord-- And stain thy Emperor's holy name with murder, With bloody, most accursed assassination!

BUTLER (_calmly_).

I've but fulfilled the Emperor's own sentence.

OCTAVIO.

O curse of Kings, Infusing a dread life into their words, And linking to the sudden transient thought The unchanging irrevocable deed. Was there necessity for such an eager Dispatch? Couldst thou not grant the merciful A time for mercy? Time is man's good Angel. To leave no interval between the sentence, And the fulfilment of it, doth beseem God only, the immutable!

BUTLER.

For what Rail you against me? What is my offense? The Empire from a fearful enemy Have I deliver'd, and expect reward; The single difference betwixt you and me Is this: you placed the arrow in the bow: I pull'd the string. You sow'd blood, and yet stand Astonish'd that blood is come up. I always Knew what I did, and therefore no result Hath power to frighten or surprise my spirit. Have you aught else to order; for this instant I make my best speed to Vienna; place My bleeding sword before my Emperor's throne, And hope to gain the applause which undelaying And punctual obedience may demand From a just judge.

[_Exit_ BUTLER.]

SCENE XII

_To these enter the_ COUNTESS TERZKY, _pale and disordered. Her utterance is slow and feeble, and unimpassioned_.

OCTAVIO (_meeting her_).

O, Countess Terzky! These are the results Of luckless unblest deeds.

COUNTESS.

They are the fruits Of your contrivances. The Duke is dead, My husband too is dead, the Duchess struggles In the pangs of death, my niece has disappear'd, This house of splendor, and of princely glory, Doth now stand desolated: the affrighted servants Rush forth through all its doors. I am the last Therein; I shut it up, and here deliver The keys.

OCTAVIO (_with a deep anguish_).

O Countess! my house, too, is desolate.

COUNTESS.

Who next is to be murder'd? Who is next To be maltreated? Lo! the Duke is dead, The Emperor's vengeance may be pacified! Spare the old servants; let not their fidelity Be imputed to the faithful as a crime-- The evil destiny surprised my brother Too suddenly: he could not think on them.

OCTAVIO.

Speak not of vengeance! Speak not of maltreatment! The Emperor is appeased; the heavy fault Hath heavily been expiated--nothing Descended from the father to the daughter, Except his glory and his services. The Empress honors your adversity, Takes part in your afflictions, opens to you Her motherly arms! Therefore, no farther fears; Yield yourself up in hope and confidence To the Imperial Grace!

COUNTESS. _(with her eye raised to heaven_).

To the grace and mercy of a greater Master Do I yield up myself. Where shall the body Of the Duke have its place of final rest? In the Chartreuse, which he himself did found At Gitschin, rests the Countess Wallenstein; And by her side, to whom he was indebted For his first fortunes, gratefully he wish'd He might sometime repose in death! O let him Be buried there. And likewise, for my husband's Remains, I ask the like grace. The Emperor Is now the proprietor of all our castles. This sure may well be granted us--one sepulchre Beside the sepulchres of our forefathers!

OCTAVIO.

Countess, you tremble, you turn pale!

COUNTESS _(re-assembles all her powers, and speaks with energy and dignity)_.

You think More worthily of me than to believe I would survive the downfall of my house. We did not hold ourselves too mean to grasp After a monarch's crown--the crown did fate Deny, but not the feeling and the spirit That to the crown belong! We deem a Courageous death more worthy of our free station Than a dishonor'd life.--I have taken poison.

OCTAVIO.

Help! Help! Support her!

COUNTESS.

Nay, it is too late,
In a few moments is my fate accomplish'd.

[_Exit_ COUNTESS.]

GORDON.

O house of death and horrors!

[_An_ OFFICER _enters, and brings a letter with the great seal_. GORDON _steps forward and meets him._]

What is this?
It is the Imperial Seal.

[_He reads the address, and delivers the letter to_ OCTAVIO _with a look of reproach, and with an emphasis on the word._]

To the _Prince_ Piccolomini.

[OCTAVIO, _with his whole frame expressive of sudden anguish, raises his eyes to heaven_.]

[_The Curtain drops._]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 22: Thomas: The Life and Works of Schiller, p. 330.]

[Footnote 23: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell & Sons, London.]

[Footnote 24: A great stone near Lützen, since called the Swede's Stone, the body of their great king having been found at the foot of it, after the battle in which he lost his life.]

[Footnote 25: Could I have hazarded such a Germanism as the use of the word after-world, for posterity--"Es spreche Welt und _Nachwelt_ meinen Namen" might have been rendered with more literal fidelity:--Let world and after-world speak out my name, etc.]

[Footnote 26: I have not ventured to affront the fastidious delicacy of our age with a literal translation of this line,

werth
Die Eingeweide schaudernd aufzureger.]

[Footnote 27: Anspessade, in German Gefreiter, a soldier inferior to a corporal, but above the sentinels. The German name implies that he is exempt from mounting guard.]

[Footnote 28: I have here ventured to omit a considerable number of lines. I fear that I should not have done amiss, had I taken this liberty more frequently. It is, however, incumbent on me to give the original, with a literal translation.

Weh denen, die auf Dich vertraun, an Dich
Die sichre Hütte illres Glückes lehnen,
Gelockt von deiner geistlichen Gestalt.
Schnell unverhofft, bei nächtlich stiller Weile
Gährts in dem tückschen Feuerschlunde, ladet
Sich aus mit tobender Gewalt, und weg
Treibt über alle Pflanzungen der Menschen
Der Wilde Strom in grausender Zerstörung.

WALLENSTEIN.

Du schilderst deines Vaters Herz. Wie Du's
Beschreibst, so ist's in seinem Eingeweide,
In dieser schwarzen Heuchlers Brust gestaltet.
O, mich hat Höllenkunst getäuscht! Mir sandte
Der Abgrund den verflecktesten der Geister,
Den Lügenkundigsten herauf, and stellt' ihn
Als Freund an meiner Seite. Wer vermag
Der Hölle Macht zu widerstehn! Ich zog
Den Basilisken auf an meinem Busen,
Mit meinem Herzblut nährt ich ihn, er sog
Sich schwelgend voll an meiner Liebe Brüsten,
Ich hatte nimmer Arges gegen ihn,
Weit offen liess ich des Gedankens Thore,
Und warf die Schlüssel weiser Vorsicht weg,
Am Sternenhimmel, etc.

LITERAL TRANSLATION

Alas! for those who place their confidence on thee, against thee lean the secure hut of their happiness, allured by thy hospitable form. Suddenly, unexpectedly, in a moment still as night, there is a fermentation in the treacherous gulf of fire; it discharges itself with raging force, and away over all the plantations of men drives the wild stream in frightful devastation.--WALLENSTEIN. Thou art portraying thy father's heart; as thou describest, even so is it shaped in his entrails, in this black hypocrite's breast. O, the art of hell has deceived me! The Abyss sent up to me the most spotted of the spirits, the most skilful in lies, and placed him as a friend by my side. Who may withstand the power of hell? I took the basilisk to my bosom, with my heart's blood I nourished him; he sucked himself glutfull at the breasts of my love. I never harbored evil toward him; wide open did I leave the door of my thoughts; I threw away the key of wise foresight. In the starry heaven, etc.--We find a difficulty in believing this to have been written by Schiller.]

[Footnote 29:
This is a poor and inadequate translation of the affectionate simplicity
of the original--

Sie alle waren Fremdlinge; _Du_ warst
Das Kind des Hauses.

Indeed the whole speech is in the best style of Massinger. _O si sic omnia!_]

[Footnote 30: It appears that the account of his conversion being caused by such a fall, and other stories of his juvenile character, are not well authenticated.]

[Footnote 31: We doubt the propriety of putting so blasphemous a statement in the mouth of any character.--T.]

[Footnote 32: This soliloquy, which, according to the former arrangement; constituted the whole of Scene IX., and concluded the Fourth Act, is omitted in all the printed German editions. It seems probable that it existed in the original manuscript from which Mr. Coleridge translated.--Ed.]

[Footnote 33: The soliloquy of Thekla consists in the original of six-and-twenty lines, twenty of which are in rhymes of irregular recurrence. I thought it prudent to abridge it. Indeed the whole scene between Thekla and Lady Neubrunn might, perhaps have been omitted without injury to the play.--C.]

[Footnote 34: These four lines are expressed in the original with exquisite felicity--

Am Himmel ist geschäftige Bewegung.
Des Thurmes Fahne jagt der Wind, schnell geht
Der Wolken Zug, die _Mondessichel wankt_,
Und durch die Nacht zuckt ungewisse Helle.

The word "moon-sickle," reminds me of a passage in Harris, as quoted by Johnson, under the word "falcated." "The enlightened part of the moon appears in the form of a sickle or reaping-hook, which is while she is moving from the conjunction to the opposition, or from the new moon to the full: but from full to a new again, the enlightened part appears gibbous, and the dark _falcated_."

The words "wanken" and "schweben" are not easily translated. The English words, by which we attempt to render them, are either vulgar or pedantic, or not of sufficiently general application. So "der Wolken Zug"--literally, The Draft, the Procession of clouds; freely--The Masses of the Clouds sweep onward in swift _stream_.]

[Footnote 35: A very inadequate translation of the original--

Verschmerzen werd' ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich,
Denn was verschmerzte nicht der Mensch!

LITERALLY.

I shall _grieve down_ this blow, of that I'm conscious:
What does not man grieve down?]

* * * * *