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Isolani. Treason!—My God!—But who talks then of treason? octavio. That is the case. The Prince-duke is a traitor— Means to lead over to the enemy The Emperor's army.—Now, Count!—brief and full– Say, will you break your oath to the Emperor Sell yourself to the enemy t—Say, will you? ISO LAN i. What mean you? I–I break my oath, d'ye say, To his Imperial Majesty Did I say so —When, when have I said that? octavio. You have not said it yet—not yet. This instant I wait to hear, Count, whether you will say it. iSOLAN.I. Ay! that delights me now, that you yourself Bear witness for me that I never said so. oCTAvio. And you renounce the Duke, then? ISOLAN.I. If he's planning Treason—why, treason breaks all bonds asunder. oCTAvio. And are determined, too, to fight against him : 1so LAN I. He has done me service—but if he's a villain, Perdition seize him!—All scores are rubb'd off. OCTAvio. I am rejoiced that you're so well-disposed. This night break off in the utmost secrecy With all the light-arm'd troops—it must appear As came the order from the Duke himself. At Frauenberg's the place of rendezvous; There will Count Galas give you further orders. isol, Axi. It shall be done. But you'll remember me With the Emperor—how well-disposed you found me. OCTA ViO. I will not sail to mention it honorably. [Erit Isolani. A SERVANT enters. What, Colonel Butler!—Show him up. Isol.ANI (returning). Forgive me too my bearish ways, old father! Lord God! how should I know, then, what a great Person I had before me? oCTAWid. No excuses ' isola Ni. I am a merry lad, and if at time A rash word might escape me 'gainst the court Amidst my wine—you know no harm was meant. [Erit. oCTAvio. You need not be uneasy on that score. That has succeeded. Fortune favor us With all the others only but as much!
OCTAvio, PiccoloniiNI, BUTLER, but Len. A your command, Lieutenant-General. W octavio. elcome, as honor'd friend and visitor.
Butlert. You do me too much honor.
octavio (after both have seated themselves). You have not Return'd the advances which I made you yesterday— Misunderstood them, as mere empty forms. That wish proceeded from my heart—I was In earnest with you—for 'tis now a time In which the honest should unite most closely. but LER. Tis only the like-minded can unite. oCTAv10, True! and I name all honest men like-minded. I never charge a man but with those acts To which his character deliberately Impels him; for alas! the violence Of blind misunderstandings often thrusts The very best of us from the right track. You came through Frauenberg. Did the Count Galas Say nothing to you? Tell me. He's my friend. ,
BUTLER. His words were lost on me. octavio. It grieves me sorely,
‘l To hear it: for his counsel was most wise.
I had myself the like to offer.
Yourself the trouble—me th' embarrassment,
- BUtLER (rises). His lot is mine.
oCTAvio. Is that your last resolve :
Nay, but bethink you, Colonel Butler! As yet you have time. Within my faithful breast That rashly-utter'd word remains interr'd. Recall it, Butler! choose a better party: You have not chosen the right one. BUTLER (going). Any other Commands for me, Lieutenant-General 2 octavio.
See your white hairs! Recall that word!
Butler (laughing with bitterness).
Gratitude from the House of Austria! [He is going.
octavio (permits him to go as far as the door, then calls after him). Butler! dutier. What wish you? octavio. How was 't with the Count 7 But LErr. Count 7 what? octavio (coldly). The title that you wish'd, I mean. Butler (starts in sudden passion). Hell and damnation! octavio (coldly). You petition'd for it— And your petition was repell’d—Was it so? BUTI.ER. Your insolent scoff shall not go by unpunish'd. Draw " - OCTAvio. Nay! yoursword to'ts sheath! and tell me calmly, How all that happen'd. I will not refuse you Your satisfaction afterwards—Calmly, Butler!
But LeR. Be the whole world acquainted with the weakness For which I never can forgive myself. Lieutenant-General ' Yes—I have ambition. Ne'er was I able to endure contempt. It stung me to the quick, that birth and title Should have more weight than merit has in the army. I would sain not be meaner than my equal. So in an evil hour I let myself Be tempted to that measure—It was folly! But yet so hard a penance it deserved not. It might have been refused ; but wherefore barb And venom the refusal with contempt Why dash to earth and crush with heaviest scorn The gray-hair'd man, the faithful veteran Why to the baseness of his parentage Refer him with such cruel roughness, only Because he had a weak hour and forgot himself? But Nature gives a sting e'en to the worm Which wanton Power treads on in sport and insult.
octavio. You must have becn calumniated. Guess you The enemy, who did you this ill service
plot Lier. Be't who it will—a most low-hearted scoundrel, Some vile court-minion must it be, some Spaniard, Some young squire of some ancient family, In whose light I may stand, some envious knave, Stung to the soul by my fair self-earn'd honors'
octavio. But tell me! Did the Duke approve that measure?
but irn. Himself impell'd me to it, used his interest In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship.
octavio. Ay? are you sure of that ?
but LER. I read the letter. octavio. And so did I-but the contents were different. [Butler is suddenly struct By chance I'm in possession of that letter— Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you. [He gives him the letter. - BUTLER. Ha! what is this? octavio. I fear me, Colonel Butler, An infamous game have they been playing with you. The Duke, you say, impell'd you to this measure? Now, in this letter talks he in contempt Concerning you, counsels the minister To give sound chastisement to your conceit, For so he calls it. [BUTLER reads through the letter, his knees tremil, he seizes a chair, and sinks down in it. You have no enemy, no persecutor; There's no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe The insult you received to the Duke only. His aim is clear and palpable. He wish'd To tear you from your Emperor—he hoped To gain from your revenge what he well knew (What your long-tried fidelity convinced him) He ne'er could dare expect from your calm reason. A blind tool would he make you, in contempt Use you, as means of most abandon'd ends. He has gain'd his point. Too well has he succeeded In luring you away from that good path On which you had been journeying forty years!
butler (no longer governing his emotion). Only break off from him? He dies: he dies!
BUTLER (strides up and down in ercessive agitation, then steps up to Octavio with resolved countenance).
Count Piccolomini : Dare that man speak
Of honor to you, who once broke his troth
octavio. He, who repents so deeply of it, dares.
Max enters almost in a state of derangement from
No Emperor has power to prescribe
Shall I perform ignobly—steal away,
octavio (trembling, and losing all self-command).
Will it be always in thy power to follow it !
Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it.
I go to Frauenberg—the Pappenheimers
(The Curtain drops).
THE two Dramas, Piccolomi Ni, or the first part of WALLENstEIN, and WALLENstEIN, are introduced in the original manuscript by a Prelude in one Act, entitled WALLENstEiN's CAMP. This is written in rhyme, and in nine-syllable verse, in the same lilting metre (if that expression may be permitted) with the second Eclogue of Spencer's Shepherd's Calendar. This Prelude possesses a sort of broad humor, and is not deficient in character; but to have translated it into prose, or into any other metre than that of the original, would have given a false idea both of its style and purport; to have translated it into the same metre would been incompatible with a faithful adherence to the sense of the German, from the comparative poverty of our language in rhymes; and it would have been unadvisable, from the incongruity of those lax verses with the present taste of the English Public. Schiller's intention seems to have been merely to have prepared his reader for the Tragedies by a lively picture of the laxity of dis. cipline, and the mutinous dispositions of Wallenstein's soldiery. It is not necessary as a preliminary
explanation. For these reasons it has been to expedient not to translate it. The admirers of Schiller, who have abstrate their idea of that author from the Robbers ano" Cabal and Love, plays in which the main into produced by the excitement of curiosity. "..." which the curiosity is excited by terrible and ". ordinary incident, will not have perused " some portion of disappointment the Dramas, wo it has been my employment to translate. o should, however, reflect that these are Ho" dramas, taken from a popular German History." we must therefore judge of them in some measur. with the feelings of Germans; or by analo with the interest excited in us by similar Dram""" own language. Few, I trust, would be rash" ignoran enough to compare Schiller with Shakspear". . merely as illustration, I would say that "" shou! procco.iv, the permiof waiienstein, no so. or othello, but from Richard the Second, or the o parts of Henry the sixth. We scarcely ess".
ity in an Historical Drama; and many proli" o: are pardoned from characters, whose namo early
tions have formed the most amusing tales of our 3* life. On the other hand, there exist in tho play
more individual beauties, more passages whose excellence will bear reflection, than in the former productions of Schiller. The description of the Astrological Tower, and the reflections of the Young Lover, which follow it, form in the original a fine poem; and my translation must have been wretched indeed, if it can have wholly overclouded the beauties of the Scene in the first Act of the first Play between Questenberg, Max., and Octavio Piccolomini. If we except the Scene of the setting sun in the Robbers, I know of no part in Schiller's Plays which equals the whole of the first Scene of the fifth Act of the concluding Play. It would be unbecoming in me to be more diffuse on this subject. A translator stands connected with the original Author by a certain law of subordination, which makes it more decorous to point out excellencies than defects: indeed he is not likely to be a fair judge of either. The pleasure or disgust from his own labor will mingle with the feelings that arise from an after-view of the original, Even in the first perusal of a work in any foreign language which we understand, we are apt to attribute to it more excellence than it really possesses, from our own pleasurable sense of difficulty overcome without effort. Translation of poetry into poetry is difficult, because the translator must give a brilhaney to his language without that warmth of original conception, from which such brilliancy would follow of its own accord. But the Translator of a living Author is encumbered with additional inconveniences. If he render his original faithfully, as to the sense of each passage, he must necessarily destroy a considerable portion of the spirit; if he endeavor to give a work executed according to laws of compensation, he subjects himself to imputations of vanity, or misrepresentation. I have thought it my duty to remain bound by the sense of my original, with as few exceptions as the nature of the languages rendered possible.
WALLENstEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the Imperial forces in the Thirty-years' War.
Duchess of FRIEDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein.
Thekla, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland.
The CouxTEss TERtsky, Sister of the Duchess.
Octavio Piccolowini, Lieutenant-General.
Max. Piccolomini, his Son. Colonel of a Regiment of Cuirassiers.
Count TERTsky, the Commander of several Regiments, and Brother-in-law of Wallenstein.
ILLo, Field Marshal. Wallenstein's Confidant.
BuTLER, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoons.
Gondon, Governor of Egra.
NECMANN, Captain of Cavalry, Aid-de-camp to Tertsky.
Borgomaster of Egra.
AssPEssade of the Cuirassiers.
o The CHAMBER, ! Belonging to the Duke.
Culhassiers, DRAGoons, SERVANTs.
Thekla. If I'm to understand you, speak less darkly. Count Ess. "Twas for that purpose that I bade her leave us. Thelka, you are no more a child. Your heart Is now no more in nonage: for you love, And boldness dwells with love—that you have proved. Your nature moulds itself upon your father's More than your mother's spirit. Therefore may you Hear, what were too much for her fortitude. Thek LA. Enough: no further preface, I entreat you. At once, out with it! Be it what it may, It is not possible that it should torture me More than this introduction. What have you To say to me? Tell me the whole, and briefly! countess.
You'll not be frighten’d—