The Death of Wallenstein (play) Read online

  Declare itself on my side, thou wilt know

  What is to do.

  [Enter MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

  Now go, Octavio.

  This night must thou be off, take my own horses

  Him here I keep with me-make short farewell-

  Trust me, I think we all shall meet again

  In joy and thriving fortunes.

  OCTAVIO (to his son).

  I shall see you

  Yet ere I go.

  SCENE II.

  WALLENSTEIN, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

  MAX. (advances to him).

  My general!

  WALLENSTEIN.

  That I am no longer, if

  Thou stylest thyself the emperor's officer.

  MAX.

  Then thou wilt leave the army, general?

  WALLENSTEIN.

  I have renounced the service of the emperor.

  MAX.

  And thou wilt leave the army?

  WALLENSTEIN.

  Rather hope I

  To bind it nearer still and faster to me.

  [He seats himself.

  Yes, Max., I have delayed to open it to thee,

  Even till the hour of acting 'gins to strike.

  Youth's fortunate feeling doth seize easily

  The absolute right, yea, and a joy it is

  To exercise the single apprehension

  Where the sums square in proof;

  But where it happens, that of two sure evils

  One must be taken, where the heart not wholly

  Brings itself back from out the strife of duties,

  There 'tis a blessing to have no election,

  And blank necessity is grace and favor.

  This is now present: do not look behind thee,-

  It can no more avail thee. Look thou forwards!

  Think not! judge not! prepare thyself to act!

  The court-it hath determined on my ruin,

  Therefore I will be beforehand with them.

  We'll join the Swedes-right gallant fellows are they,

  And our good friends.

  [He stops himself, expecting PICCOLOMINI's answer.

  I have taken thee by surprise. Answer me not:

  I grant thee time to recollect thyself.

  [He rises, retires to the back of the stage. MAX. remains

  for a long time motionless, in a trance of excessive anguish.

  At his first motion WALLENSTEIN returns, and places himself

  before him.

  MAX.

  My general, this day thou makest me

  Of age to speak in my own right and person,

  For till this day I have been spared the trouble

  To find out my own road. Thee have I followed

  With most implicit, unconditional faith,

  Sure of the right path if I followed thee.

  To-day, for the first time, dost thou refer

  Me to myself, and forcest me to make

  Election between thee and my own heart.

  WALLENSTEIN.

  Soft cradled thee thy fortune till to-day;

  Thy duties thou conldst exercise in sport,

  Indulge all lovely instincts, act forever

  With undivided heart. It can remain

  No longer thus. Like enemies, the roads

  Start from each other. Duties strive with duties,

  Thou must needs choose thy party in the war

  Which is now kindling 'twixt thy friend and him

  Who is thy emperor.

  MAX.

  War! is that the name?

  War is as frightful as heaven's pestilence,

  Yet it is good, is it heaven's will as that is.

  Is that a good war, which against the emperor

  Thou wagest with the emperor's own army?

  O God of heaven! what a change is this.

  Beseems it me to offer such persuasion

  To thee, who like the fixed star of the pole

  Wert all I gazed at on life's trackless ocean?

  O! what a rent thou makest in my heart!

  The ingrained instinct of old reverence,

  The holy habit of obediency,

  Must I pluck life asunder from thy name?

  Nay, do not turn thy countenance upon me-

  It always was as a god looking upon me!

  Duke Wallenstein, its power has not departed;

  The senses still are in thy bonds, although

  Bleeding, the soul hath freed itself.

  WALLENSTEIN.

  Max., hear me.

  MAX.

  Oh, do it not, I pray thee, do it not!

  There is a pure and noble soul within thee,

  Knows not of this unblest unlucky doing.

  Thy will is chaste, it is thy fancy only

  Which hath polluted thee-and innocence,

  It will not let itself be driven away

  From that world-awing aspect. Thou wilt not,

  Thou canst not end in this. It would reduce

  All human creatures to disloyalty

  Against the nobleness of their own nature.

  'Twill justify the vulgar misbelief,

  Which holdeth nothing noble in free will,

  And trusts itself to impotence alone,

  Made powerful only in an unknown power.

  WALLENSTEIN.

  The world will judge me harshly, I expect it.

  Already have I said to my own self

  All thou canst say to me. Who but avoids

  The extreme, can he by going round avoid it?

  But here there is no choice. Yes, I must use

  Or suffer violence-so stands the case,

  There remains nothing possible but that.

  MAX.

  Oh, that is never possible for thee!

  'Tis the last desperate resource of those

  Cheap souls, to whom their honor, their good name,

  Is their poor saving, their last worthless keep,

  Which, having staked and lost, they staked themselves

  In the mad rage of gaming. Thou art rich

  And glorious; with an unpolluted heart

  Thou canst make conquest of whate'er seems highest!

  But he who once hath acted infamy

  Does nothing more in this world.

  WALLENSTEIN (grasps his hand).

  Calmly, Max.!

  Much that is great and excellent will we

  Perform together yet. And if we only

  Stand on the height with dignity, 'tis soon

  Forgotten, Max., by what road we ascended.

  Believe me, many a crown shines spotless now,

  That yet was deeply sullied in the winning.

  To the evil spirit doth the earth belong,

  Not to the good. All that the powers divine

  Send from above are universal blessings

  Their light rejoices us, their air refreshes,

  But never yet was man enriched by them:

  In their eternal realm no property

  Is to be struggled for-all there is general.

  The jewel, the all-valued gold we win

  From the deceiving powers, depraved in nature,

  That dwell beneath the day and blessed sunlight.

  Not without sacrifices are they rendered

  Propitious, and there lives no soul on earth

  That e'er retired unsullied from their service.

  MAX.

  Whate'er is human to the human being

  Do I allow-and to the vehement

  And striving spirit readily I pardon

  The excess of action; but to thee, my general!

  Above all others make I large concession.

  For thou must move a world and be the master-

  He kills thee who condemns thee to inaction.

  So be it then! maintain thee in thy post

  By violence. Resist the emperor,

  And if it must be force with force repel;

  I will not praise it, yet I can f
orgive it.

  But not-not to the traitor-yes! the word

  Is spoken out-

  Not to the traitor can I yield a pardon.

  That is no mere excess! that is no error

  Of human nature-that is wholly different,

  Oh, that is black, black as the pit of hell!

  [WALLENSTEIN betrays a sudden agitation.

  Thou canst not hear it named, and wilt thou do it?

  O turn back to thy duty. That thou canst,

  I hold it certain. Send me to Vienna;

  I'll make thy peace for thee with the emperor.

  He knows thee not. But I do know thee. He

  Shall see thee, duke! with my unclouded eye,

  And I bring back his confidence to thee.

  WALLENSTEIN.

  It is too late! Thou knowest not what has happened.

  MAX.

  Were it too late, and were things gone so far,

  That a crime only could prevent thy fall,

  Then-fall! fall honorably, even as thou stoodest,

  Lose the command. Go from the stage of war!

  Thou canst with splendor do it-do it too

  With innocence. Thou hast lived much for others,

  At length live thou for thy own self. I follow thee.

  My destiny I never part from thine.

  WALLENSTEIN.

  It is too late! Even now, while thou art losing

  Thy words, one after another, are the mile-stones

  Left fast behind by my post couriers,

  Who bear the order on to Prague and Egra.

  [MAX. stands as convulsed, with a gesture and countenance

  expressing the most intense anguish.

  Yield thyself to it. We act as we are forced.

  I cannot give assent to my own shame

  And ruin. Thou-no-thou canst not forsake me!

  So let us do, what must be done, with dignity,

  With a firm step. What am I doing worse

  Than did famed Caesar at the Rubicon,

  When he the legions led against his country,

  The which his country had delivered to him?

  Had he thrown down the sword, he had been lost.

  As I were, if I but disarmed myself.

  I trace out something in me of this spirit.

  Give me his luck, that other thing I'll bear.

  [MAX. quits him abruptly. WALLENSTEIN startled and overpowered,

  continues looking after him, and is still in this posture when

  TERZKY enters.

  SCENE III.

  WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY.

  TERZKY.

  Max. Piccolomini just left you?

  WALLENSTEIN.

  Where is Wrangel?

  TERZKY.

  He is already gone.

  WALLENSTEIN.

  In such a hurry?

  TERZKY.

  It is as if the earth had swallowed him.

  He had scarce left thee, when I went to seek him.

  I wished some words with him-but he was gone.

  How, when, and where, could no one tell me.

  Nay, I half believe it was the devil himself;

  A human creature could not so at once

  Have vanished.

  ILLO (enters).

  Is it true that thou wilt send

  Octavio?

  TERZKY.

  How, Octavio! Whither send him?

  WALLENSTEIN.

  He goes to Frauenberg, and will lead hither

  The Spanish and Italian regiments.

  ILLO.

  No!

  Nay, heaven forbid!

  WALLENSTEIN.

  And why should heaven forbid?

  ILLO.

  Him!-that deceiver! Wouldst thou trust to him

  The soldiery? Him wilt thou let slip from thee,

  Now in the very instant that decides us--

  TERZKY.

  Thou wilt not do this! No! I pray thee, no!

  WALLENSTEIN.

  Ye are whimsical.

  ILLO.

  O but for this time, duke,

  Yield to our warning! Let him not depart.

  WALLENSTEIN.

  And why should I not trust him only this time,

  Who have always trusted him? What, then, has happened

  That I should lose my good opinion of him?

  In complaisance to your whims, not my own,

  I must, forsooth, give up a rooted judgment.

  Think not I am a woman. Having trusted him

  E'en till to-day, to-day too will I trust him.

  TERZKY.

  Must it be he-he only? Send another.

  WALLENSTEIN.

  It must be he, whom I myself have chosen;

  He is well fitted for the business.

  Therefore I gave it him.

  ILLO.

  Because he's an Italian-

  Therefore is he well fitted for the business!

  WALLENSTEIN.

  I know you love them not, nor sire nor son,

  Because that I esteem them, love them, visibly

  Esteem them, love them more than you and others,

  E'en as they merit. Therefore are they eye-blights,

  Thorns in your footpath. But your jealousies,

  In what affect they me or my concerns?

  Are they the worse to me because you hate them?

  Love or hate one another as you will,

  I leave to each man his own moods and likings;

  Yet know the worth of each of you to me.

  ILLO.

  Von Questenberg, while he was here, was always

  Lurking about with this Octavio.

  WALLENSTEIN.

  It happened with my knowledge and permission.

  ILLO.

  I know that secret messengers came to him

  From Gallas--

  WALLENSTEIN.

  That's not true.

  ILLO.

  O thou art blind,

  With thy deep-seeing eyes!

  WALLENSTEIN.

  Thou wilt not shake

  My faith for me; my faith, which founds itself

  On the profoundest science. If 'tis false,

  Then the whole science of the stars is false;

  For know, I have a pledge from Fate itself,

  That he is the most faithful of my friends.

  ILLO.

  Hast thou a pledge that this pledge is not false?

  WALLENSTEIN.

  There exist moments in the life of man,

  When he is nearer the great Soul of the world

  Than is man's custom, and possesses freely

  The power of questioning his destiny:

  And such a moment 'twas, when in the night

  Before the action in the plains of Luetzen,

  Leaning against a tree, thoughts crowding thoughts,

  I looked out far upon the ominous plain.

  My whole life, past and future, in this moment

  Before my mind's eye glided in procession,

  And to the destiny of the next morning

  The spirit, filled with anxious presentiment,

  Did knit the most removed futurity.

  Then said I also to myself, "So many

  Dost thou command. They follow all thy stars,

  And as on some great number set their all

  Upon thy single head, and only man

  The vessel of thy fortune. Yet a day

  Will come, when destiny shall once more scatter

  All these in many a several direction:

  Few be they who will stand out faithful to thee."

  I yearned to know which one was faithfulest

  Of all, my camp included. Great destiny,

  Give me a sign! And he shall be the man,

  Who, on the approaching morning, comes the first

  To meet me with a token of his love:

  And thinking this, I fell into a slumber,

  Then midmost in the battle was I led


  In spirit. Great the pressure and the tumult!

  Then was my horse killed under me: I sank;

  And over me away, all unconcernedly,

  Drove horse and rider-and thus trod to pieces

  I lay, and panted like a dying man;

  Then seized me suddenly a savior arm;

  It was Octavio's-I woke at once,

  'Twas broad day, and Octavio stood before me.

  "My brother," said he, "do not ride to-day

  The dapple, as you're wont; but mount the horse

  Which I have chosen for thee. Do it, brother!

  In love to me. A strong dream warned me so."

  It was the swiftness of this horse that snatched me

  From the hot pursuit of Bannier's dragoons.

  My cousin rode the dapple on that day,

  And never more saw I or horse or rider.

  ILLO.

  That was a chance.

  WALLENSTEIN (significantly).

  There's no such thing as chance

  And what to us seems merest accident

  Springs from the deepest source of destiny.

  In brief, 'tis signed and sealed that this Octavio

  Is my good angel-and now no word more.

  [He is retiring.

  TERZKY.

  This is my comfort-Max. remains our hostage.

  ILLO.

  And he shall never stir from here alive.