WALLENSTEIN, ILLO, COUNTESS, DUCHESS, THEKLA.
WALLENSTEIN.
All quiet in the camp?
ILLO.
It is all quiet.
WALLENSTEIN.
In a few hours may couriers come from Prague
With tidings that this capital is ours.
Then we may drop the mask, and to the troops
Assembled in this town make known the measure
And its result together. In such cases
Example does the whole. Whoever is foremost
Still leads the herd. An imitative creature
Is man. The troops at Prague conceive no other,
Than that the Pilsen army has gone through
The forms of homage to us; and in Pilsen
They shall swear fealty to us, because
The example has been given them by Prague.
Butler, you tell me, has declared himself?
ILLO.
At his own bidding, unsolicited,
He came to offer you himself and regiment.
WALLENSTEIN,
I find we must not give implicit credence
To every warning voice that makes itself
Be listened to in the heart. To hold us back,
Oft does the lying spirit counterfeit
The voice of truth and inward revelation,
Scattering false oracles. And thus have I
To entreat forgiveness for that secretly.
I've wronged this honorable gallant man,
This Butler: for a feeling of the which
I am not master (fear I would not call it),
Creeps o'er me instantly, with sense of shuddering,
At his approach, and stops love's joyous motion.
And this same man, against whom I am warned,
This honest man is he who reaches to me
The first pledge of my fortune.
ILLO.
And doubt not
That his example will win over to you
The best men in the army.
WALLENSTEIN.
Go and send
Isolani hither. Send him immediately.
He is under recent obligations to me:
With him will I commence the trial. Go.
[Exit ILLO.
WALLENSTEIN (turns himself round to the females).
Lo, there's the mother with the darling daughter.
For once we'll have an interval of rest—
Come! my heart yearns to live a cloudless hour
In the beloved circle of my family.
COUNTESS.
'Tis long since we've been thus together, brother.
WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS, aside).
Can she sustain the news? Is she prepared?
COUNTESS.
Not yet.
WALLENSTEIN.
Come here, my sweet girl! Seat thee by me,
For there is a good spirit on thy lips.
Thy mother praised to me thy ready skill;
She says a voice of melody dwells in thee,
Which doth enchant the soul. Now such a voice
Will drive away from me the evil demon
That beats his black wings close above my head.
DUCHESS.
Where is thy lute, my daughter? Let thy father
Hear some small trial of thy skill.
THEKLA.
My mother
I——
DUCHESS.
Trembling? Come, collect thyself. Go, cheer
Thy father.
THEKLA.
O my mother! I—I cannot.
COUNTESS.
How, what is that, niece?
THEKLA (to the COUNTESS).
O spare me—sing—now—in this sore anxiety,
Of the overburdened soul—to sing to him
Who is thrusting, even now, my mother headlong
Into her grave.
DUCHESS.
How, Thekla! Humorsome!
What! shall thy father have expressed a wish
In vain?
COUNTESS.
Here is the lute.
THEKLA.
My God! how can I——
[The orchestra plays. During the ritornello THEKLA expresses in her
gestures and countenance the struggle of her feelings; and at the
moment that she should begin to sing, contracts herself together, as
one shuddering, throws the instrument down, and retires abruptly.
DUCHESS.
My child! Oh, she is ill——
WALLENSTEIN.
What ails the maiden?
Say, is she often so?
COUNTESS.
Since then herself
Has now betrayed it, I too must no longer
Conceal it.
WALLENSTEIN.
What?
COUNTESS.
She loves him!
WALLENSTEIN.
Loves him? Whom?
COUNTESS.
Max. does she love! Max. Piccolomini!
Hast thou never noticed it? Nor yet my sister?
DUCHESS.
Was it this that lay so heavy on her heart?
God's blessing on thee,—my sweet child! Thou needest
Never take shame upon thee for thy choice.
COUNTESS.
This journey, if 'twere not thy aim, ascribe it
To thine own self. Thou shouldst have chosen another
To have attended her.
WALLENSTEIN.
And does he know it?
COUNTESS.
Yes, and he hopes to win her.
WALLENSTEIN.
Hopes to win her!
Is the boy mad?
COUNTESS.
Well—hear it from themselves.
WALLENSTEIN.
He thinks to carry off Duke Friedland's daughter!
Ay? The thought pleases me.
The young man has no groveling spirit.
COUNTESS.
Since
Such and such constant favor you have shown him——
WALLENSTEIN.
He chooses finally to be my heir.
And true it is, I love the youth; yea, honor him.
But must he therefore be my daughter's husband?
Is it daughters only? Is it only children
That we must show our favor by?
DUCHESS.
His noble disposition and his manners——
WALLENSTEIN.
Win him my heart, but not my daughter.
DUCHESS.
Then
His rank, his ancestors——
WALLENSTEIN.
Ancestors! What?
He is a subject, and my son-in-law
I will seek out upon the thrones of Europe.
DUCHESS
O dearest Albrecht! Climb we not too high
Lest we should fall too low.
WALLENSTEIN.
What! have I paid
A price so heavy to ascend this eminence,
And jut out high above the common herd,
Only to close the mighty part I play
In life's great drama with a common kinsman?
Have I for this——
[Stops suddenly, repressing himself.
She is the only thing
That will remain behind of me on earth;
And I will see a crown around her head,
Or die in the attempt to place it there.
I hazard all—all! and for this alone,
To lift her into greatness.
Yea, in this moment, in the which we are speaking
[He recollects himself.
And I must now, like a soft-hearted father,
Couple together in good peasant fashion
The pair that chance to suit each other's liking—
And I must do it now, even now, when I
Am stretching out the wreath that is to twine
My full accomplished work—no! she is the jewel,
Which I have treasured long, my last, my noblest,
And 'tis my purpose not to let her from me
For less than a king's sceptre.
DUCHESS.
O my husband!
You're ever building, building to the clouds,
Still building higher, and still higher building,
And ne'er reflect, that the poor narrow basis
Cannot sustain the giddy tottering column.
WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS).
Have you announced the place of residence
Which I have destined for her?
COUNTESS.
No! not yet,
'Twere better you yourself disclosed it to her.
DUCHESS.
How? Do we not return to Carinthia then?
WALLENSTEIN.
No.
DUCHESS.
And to no other of your lands or seats?
WALLENSTEIN.
You would not be secure there.
DUCHESS.
Not secure.
In the emperor's realms, beneath the emperor's
Protection?
WALLENSTEIN.
Friedland's wife may be permitted
No longer to hope that.
DUCHESS.
O God in heaven!
And have you brought it even to this!
WALLENSTEIN.
In Holland
You'll find protection.
DUCHESS
In a Lutheran country?
What? And you send us into Lutheran countries?
WALLENSTEIN.
Duke Franz of Lauenburg conducts you thither.
DUCHESS.
Duke Franz of Lauenburg?
The ally of Sweden, the emperor's enemy.
WALLENSTEIN.
The emperor's enemies are mine no longer.
DUCHESS (casting a look of terror on the DUKE and the COUNTESS).
Is it then true? It is. You are degraded
Deposed from the command? O God in heaven!
COUNTESS (aside to the DUKE).
Leave her in this belief. Thou seest she cannot
Support the real truth.
SCENE V.
To them enter COUNT TERZKY.
COUNTESS.
Terzky!
What ails him? What an image of affright!
He looks as he had seen a ghost.
TERZKY (leading WALLENSTEIN aside).
Is it thy command that all the Croats——
WALLENSTEIN.
Mine!
TERZKY.
We are betrayed.
WALLENSTEIN.
What?
TERZKY.
They are off! This night
The Jaegers likewise—all the villages
In the whole round are empty.
WALLENSTEIN.
Isolani!
TERZKY.
Him thou hast sent away. Yes, surely.
WALLENSTEIN.
I?
TERZKY.
No? Hast thou not sent him off? Nor Deodati?
They are vanished, both of them.
SCENE VI.
To them enter ILLO.
ILLO.
Has Terzky told thee?
TERZKY.
He knows all.
ILLO.
And likewise
That Esterhatzy, Goetz, Maradas, Kaunitz,
Kolatto, Palfi, have forsaken thee.
TERZKY.
Damnation!
WALLENSTEIN (winks at them).
Hush!
COUNTESS (who has been watching them anxiously from the distance and
now advances to them).
Terzky! Heaven! What is it? What has happened?
WALLENSTEIN (scarcely suppressing his emotions).
Nothing! let us be gone!
TERZKY (following him).
Theresa, it is nothing.
COUNTESS (holding him back).
Nothing? Do I not see that all the life-blood
Has left your cheeks—look you not like a ghost?
That even my brother but affects a calmness?
PAGE (enters).
An aide-de-camp inquires for the Count Terzky.
[TERZKY follows the PAGE.
WALLENSTEIN.
Go, hear his business.
[To ILLO.
This could not have happened
So unsuspected without mutiny.
Who was on guard at the gates?
ILLO.
'Twas Tiefenbach.
WALLENSTEIN.
Let Tiefenbach leave guard without delay,
And Terzky's grenadiers relieve him.
[ILLO is going.
Stop!
Hast thou heard aught of Butler?
ILLO.
Him I met
He will be here himself immediately.
Butler remains unshaken,
[ILLO exit. WALLENSTEIN is following him.
COUNTESS.
Let him not leave thee, sister! go, detain him!
There's some misfortune.
DUCHESS (clinging to him).
Gracious Heaven! What is it?
WALLENSTEIN.
Be tranquil! leave me, sister! dearest wife!
We are in camp, and this is naught unusual;
Here storm and sunshine follow one another
With rapid interchanges. These fierce spirits
Champ the curb angrily, and never yet
Did quiet bless the temples of the leader;
If I am to stay go you. The plaints of women
Ill suit the scene where men must act.
[He is going: TERZKY returns.
TERZKY.
Remain here. From this window must we see it.
WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS).
Sister, retire!
COUNTESS.
No—never!
WALLENSTEIN.
'Tis my will.
TERZKY (leads the COUNTESS aside, and drawing her attention
to the DUCHESS).
Theresa!
DUCHESS.
Sister, come! since he commands it.
SCENE VII.
WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY.
WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the window).
What now, then?
TERZKY.
There are strange movements among all the troops,
And no one knows the cause. Mysteriously,
With gloomy silentness, the several corps
Marshal themselves, each under its own banners;
Tiefenbach's corps make threatening movements; only
The Pappenheimers still remain aloof
In their own quarters and let no one enter.
WALLENSTEIN.
Does Piccolomini appear among them?
TERZKY.
We are seeking him: he is nowhere to be met with.
WALLENSTEIN.
What did the aide-de-camp deliver to you?
TERZKY.
My regiments had despatched him; yet once more
They swear fidelity to thee, and wait
The shout for onset, all prepared, and eager.
WALLENSTEIN.
But whence arose this larum in the camp?
It should have been kept secret from the army
Till fortune had decided for us at Prague.
TERZKY.
Oh, that thou hadst believed me! Yester-evening
Did we conjure thee not to let that skulker,
That fox, Octavio, pass the gates of Pilsen.
Thou gavest him thy own horses to flee from thee.
WALLENSTEIN.
The old tune still! Now, once for all, no more
Of this suspicion—it is doting folly.
TERZKY.
Thou didst confide in Isolani too;
And lo! he was the first that did desert thee.
WALLENSTEIN.
It was but yesterday I rescued him
From abject wretchedness. Let that go by;
I never reckoned yet on gratitude.
And wherein doth he wrong in going from me?
He follows still the god whom all his life
He has worshipped at the gaming-table. With
My fortune and my seeming destiny
He made the bond and broke it, not with me.
I am but the ship in which his hopes were stowed,
And with the which, well-pleased and confident,
He traversed the open sea; now he beholds it
In eminent jeopardy among the coast-rocks,
And hurries to preserve his wares. As light
As the free bird from the hospitable twig
Where it had nested he flies off from me:
No human tie is snapped betwixt us two.
Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived
Who seeks a heart in the unthinking man.
Like shadows on a stream, the forms of life
Impress their characters on the smooth forehead,
Naught sinks into the bosom's silent depth:
Quick sensibility of pain and pleasure
Moves the light fluids lightly; but no soul
Warmeth the inner frame.
TERZKY.
Yet, would I rather
Trust the smooth brow than that deep furrowed one.