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.
I will hear, however,
What the Swede has to say to me. ILLO (eagerly to TERTSKY).
WALLENSTEIN.
"Tis a cursed accident! ILLO.
Oh! 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-
He stands without the door in waiting.
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,
He's arrived! Know'st thou Should force me on with it.
A cursed, cursed accident! Yes, yes,
Sesina knows too much, and won't be silent.
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 (lost in thought).
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▬▬
WALLENSTEIN (in soliloquy). 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 world 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 mutter'd And meant not-my own doings tower behind me. [Pauses and remains in deep thought. A punishable man I seem; the guilt, Try what I will, I cannot roll off from me; The equivocal demeanor 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,
gave way to my humors, 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
Impell'd me to the daring deed, which now Necessity, self-preservation, orders. Stern is the On-look of Necessity,
Not without shudder may a human hand Grasp the mysterious urn of destiny.
My deed was mine, remaining in my bosom: Once suffer'd to escape from its safe corner Within the heart, its nursery and birth-place, Sent forth into the Foreign, it belongs For ever to those sly malicious powers Whom never art of man conciliated.
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 seem'd, were not to serve One and the same.
WALLENSTEIN (makes the motion for him to take a seat, and seats himself).
And where are your credentials!
[Paces in agitation through the chamber, then pauses, Come you provided with full powers, Sir General ?
and, after the pause, breaks out again into audible soliloquy.
What is thy enterprise? thy aim? thy object? Hast honestly confess'd 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 Fix'd to the people's pious nursery-faith.
This, this will be no strife of strength with strength. That fear'd 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 gray 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.
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.
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.
Yes, he might say it safely.-General Wrangel, [Taking his hand affectionately 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.
Confidence will come Has each but only first security.
The Chancellor still, I see, does not quite trust me; And, I confess-the game does not lie wholly 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 ?
I have here an office merely, no opinion.
The Emperor hath urged me to the uttermost
WALLENSTEIN (after having fixed a searching look on I can no longer honorably serve him.
For my security, in self-defence,
I take this hard step, which my conscience blames.
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 ?
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
With fifteen thousand men, and only waits For orders to proceed and join your army. Those orders I give out, immediately We're compromised.
What asks the Chancellor?
Twelve regiments, every man a Swede-my head The warranty-and all might prove at last Only false play——
WALLENSTEIN (starting). Sir Swede!
WRANGEL (calmly proceeding).
T'insist thereon, that he do formally, Irrevocably break with the Emperor, Else not a Swede is trusted to Duke Friedland.
But still the Chancellor thinks, Come, brief, and open! What is the demand?
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-
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 call'd 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 conquer'd for himself, and died.
Help to keep down the common enemy, And the fair border-land must needs be yours.
But when the common enemy lies vanquish'd, 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?
Think you of something better, Gustave Wrangel! Of Prague no more.
Here my commission ends.
WALLENSTEIN.
Surrender up to you my capital! Far liever would I face about, and step Back to my Emperor.
If time yet permits
WALLENSTEIN.
That lies with me, even now, at any hour.
Some days ago, perhaps. To-day, no longer; No longer since Sesina's been a prisoner.
[WALLENSTEIN is struck, and silenced. My Lord Duke, hear me--We believe that you At present do mean honorably 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.
You therefore must I trust, and you not me? I will consider of your proposition.
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.
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.
He will not what he must!
It lies with you now. Try. For I am silenced, When folks begin to talk to me of conscience, And of fidelity.
Lay in the far-off distance, when the road Stretch'd 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 ascertain'd, Dost thou begin to play the dastard now? Plann'd merely, 't is a common felony; Accomplish'd, an immortal undertaking:
And with success comes pardon hand in hand; For all event is God's arbitrement.
COUNTESS (hastily). -Must wait.
I cannot see him now. Another time.
But for two minutes he entreats an audience: Of the most urgent nature is his business.
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-favor, Which with an undistinguishable ease Makes Baron or makes Prince.
WALLENSTEIN (in extreme agitation). Take her away.
Let in the young Count Piccolomini.
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
Who knows what he may bring us! I will hear him. That asks no stretch of patience, a light evil;
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 anny; and so all returns
But to become a nothing, having been
WALLENSTEIN (starts up in violent agitation). Show me a way out of this stifling crowd, Ye Powers of Aidance! Show 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 accursed deed!
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 accursed poniard, To violate the breasts that nourish'd thee? That were against our nature, that might aptly Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart sicken.†
*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.
† I have not ventured to affront the fastidious delicacy of our age with the literal translation of this line,
Die Eingeweide schaudernd aufzuregen.
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