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The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Vol 1 and 2 cover

The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Vol 1 and 2

Chapter 607: FOOTNOTES:
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About This Book

A comprehensive annotated edition collects the poet's lyric, narrative, and experimental verse across his career, presenting finished poems, fragments, and drafts drawn from manuscripts and notebooks. The volume contains long narrative pieces, shorter lyrics, and metrical experiments that address nature, imagination, theology, and philosophical reflection. An extended preface and detailed footnotes document variant readings and editorial choices, arrange material approximately chronologically, and reintroduce several pieces published from manuscript for the first time. The editorial apparatus compares multiple editions and holographs, records emendations, and supplies textual and bibliographical notes to guide readers through the poems' composition and revision history.

First Servant. Come—to it, lads, to it! Make an end of it.
I hear the sentry call out, 'Stand to your arms!' They will
be there in a minute.
Second Servant. Why were we not told before that the
audience would be held here? Nothing prepared—no orders—no 5
instructions—
Third Servant. Ay, and why was the balcony-chamber
countermanded, that with the great worked carpet?—there one can
look about one.
First Servant. Nay, that you must ask the mathematician there. 10
He says it is an unlucky chamber.
Second Servant. Poh! stuff and nonsense! That's what I call
a hum. A chamber is a chamber; what much can the place
signify in the affair?
Seni. My son, there's nothing insignificant, 15
Nothing! But yet in every earthly thing
First and most principal is place and time.
First Servant (to the Second). Say nothing to him, Nat. The
Duke himself must let him have his own will.
Seni (counts the chairs, half in a loud, half in a low voice, till he comes to eleven, which he repeats).
Eleven! an evil number! Set twelve chairs. 20
Twelve! twelve signs hath the zodiac: five and seven,
The holy numbers, include themselves in twelve.
Second Servant. And what may you have to object against
eleven? I should like to know that now.
[618]Seni. Eleven is—transgression; eleven oversteps 25
The ten commandments.
Second Servant. That's good! and why do you call five an
holy number?
Seni. Five is the soul of man: for even as man
Is mingled up of good and evil, so 30
The five is the first number that's made up
Of even and odd.
Second Servant. The foolish old coxcomb!
First Servant. Ey! let him alone though. I like to hear
him; there is more in his words than can be seen at first sight. 35
Third Servant. Off! They come.
Second Servant. There! Out at the side-door.

[They hurry off. Seni follows slowly. A page brings the staff of command on a red cushion, and places it on the table near the Duke's chair. They are announced from without, and the wings of the door fly open.


LINENOTES:

[13]

hum 1800, 1828, 1829.

Before 15 Seni (with gravity). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[15]

nothing 1800, 1828, 1829.

[16]

Nothing 1800, 1828, 1829.


Scene VII

Wallenstein, Duchess.

Wallenstein. You went then through Vienna, were presented
To the Queen of Hungary?
Duchess. Yes, and to the Empress too,
And by both Majesties were we admitted
To kiss the hand.
Wallenstein. And how was it received,
That I had sent for wife and daughter hither 5
To the camp, in winter time?
Duchess. I did even that
Which you commissioned me to do. I told them,
You had determined on our daughter's marriage,
And wished, ere yet you went into the field,
To shew the elected husband his betrothed. 10
Wallenstein. And did they guess the choice which I had made?
Duchess. They only hoped and wished it may have fallen
Upon no foreign nor yet Lutheran noble.
Wallenstein. And you—what do you wish, Elizabeth?
Duchess. Your will, you know, was always mine.
Wallenstein. Well, then? 15
[619] And in all else, of what kind and complexion
Was your reception at the court?
Hide nothing from me. How were you received?
Duchess. O! my dear lord, all is not what it was.
A cankerworm, my lord, a cankerworm 20
Has stolen into the bud.
Wallenstein. Ay! is it so!
What, they were lax? they failed of the old respect?
Duchess. Not of respect. No honours were omitted,
No outward courtesy; but in the place
Of condescending, confidential kindness, 25
Familiar and endearing, there were given me
Only these honours and that solemn courtesy.
Ah! and the tenderness which was put on,
It was the guise of pity, not of favour.
No! Albrecht's wife, Duke Albrecht's princely wife, 30
Count Harrach's noble daughter, should not so—
Not wholly so should she have been received.
Wallenstein. Yes, yes; they have ta'en offence. My latest conduct,
They railed at it, no doubt.
Duchess. O that they had!
I have been long accustomed to defend you, 35
To heal and pacify distempered spirits.
No; no one railed at you. They wrapped them up,
O Heaven! in such oppressive, solemn silence!—
Here is no every-day misunderstanding,
No transient pique, no cloud that passes over; 40
Something most luckless, most unhealable,
Has taken place. The Queen of Hungary
Used formerly to call me her dear aunt,
And ever at departure to embrace me—
Wallenstein. Now she omitted it?
Duchess. She did embrace me, 45
But then first when I had already taken
My formal leave, and when the door already
Had closed upon me, then did she come out
In haste, as she had suddenly bethought herself,
And pressed me to her bosom, more with anguish 50
Than tenderness.
[620]Wallenstein (seizes her hand soothingly). Nay, now collect yourself,
And what of Eggenberg and Lichtenstein,
And of our other friends there?
Duchess. I saw none.
Wallenstein. The Ambassador from Spain, who once was wont
To plead so warmly for me?—
Duchess. Silent, Silent! 55
Wallenstein. These suns then are eclipsed for us. Henceforward
Must we roll on, our own fire, our own light.
Duchess. And were it—were it, my dear lord, in that
Which moved about the court in buzz and whisper,
But in the country let itself be heard 60
Aloud—in that which Father Lamormain
In sundry hints and——
Wallenstein. Lamormain! what said he?
Duchess. That you're accused of having daringly
O'erstepped the powers entrusted to you, charged
With traitorous contempt of the Emperor 65
And his supreme behests. The proud Bavarian,
He and the Spaniards stand up your accusers—
That there's a storm collecting over you
Of far more fearful menace than that former one
Which whirled you headlong down at Regensburg. 70
And people talk, said he, of——Ah!—
Wallenstein. Proceed!
Duchess. I cannot utter it!
Wallenstein. Proceed!
Duchess. They talk——
Wallenstein. Well!
Duchess. Of a second——
Wallenstein. Second——
Duchess. More disgraceful
——Dismission.
Wallenstein. Talk they?
O! they force, they thrust me
[621] With violence, against my own will, onward! 75
Duchess. O! if there yet be time, my husband! if
By giving way and by submission, this
Can be averted—my dear lord, give way!
Win down your proud heart to it! Tell that heart
It is your sovereign lord, your Emperor 80
Before whom you retreat. O let no longer
Low tricking malice blacken your good meaning
With abhorred venomous glosses. Stand you up
Shielded and helm'd and weapon'd with the truth,
And drive before you into uttermost shame 85
These slanderous liars! Few firm friends have we—
You know it!—The swift growth of our good fortune
It hath but set us up, a mark for hatred.
What are we, if the sovereign's grace and favour
Stand not before us? 90

LINENOTES:

[14]

you wish 1800, 1828, 1829.

[15]

Wallenstein (after a pause). Well, then? 1800, 1828, 1829.

After 17 [The Duchess casts her eyes on the ground and remains silent. 1800, 1828, 1829.

[31]

so 1800, 1828, 1829.

[45]

Now 1800, 1828, 1829. Duchess (wiping away her tears, after a pause). 1800, 1828, 1829. did 1800, 1828, 1829.

[53]

Duchess (shaking her head). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[62]

Wallenstein (eagerly). Lamormain, &c. 1800, 1828, 1829.

he 1800, 1828, 1829.

[71]
And people . . . Ah!— [Stifling extreme emotion.

1800, 1828, 1829.

[73]
Duchess. Of a second—— (catches her voice and hesitates).

1800, 1828, 1829.

[74]
Wallenstein. Talk they? [Strides across the chamber in vehement agitation.

1800, 1828, 1829.

before 76 Duchess (presses near to him, in entreaty). 1800, 1828, 1829.


Scene VIII

Enter the Countess Tertsky, leading in her hand the Princess Thekla, richly adorned with brilliants.

Countess, Thekla, Wallenstein, Duchess.

Countess. How, sister? What already upon business,
And business of no pleasing kind I see,
Ere he has gladdened at his child. The first
Moment belongs to joy. Here, Friedland! father!
This is thy daughter. 5

(Thekla approaches with a shy and timid air, and bends herself as about to kiss his hand. He receives her in his arms, and remains standing for some time lost in the feeling of her presence.)

Wallenstein. Yes! pure and lovely hath hope risen on me:
I take her as the pledge of greater fortune.
Duchess. 'Twas but a little child when you departed
To raise up that great army for the Emperor:
And after, at the close of the campaign, 10
When you returned home out of Pomerania,
Your daughter was already in the convent,
Wherein she has remain'd till now.
Wallenstein. The while
[622] We in the field here gave our cares and toils
To make her great, and fight her a free way 15
To the loftiest earthly good, lo! mother Nature
Within the peaceful silent convent walls
Has done her part, and out of her free grace
Hath she bestowed on the beloved child
The godlike; and now leads her thus adorned 20
To meet her splendid fortune, and my hope.
Duchess (to Thekla). Thou wouldst not have recognized thy father,
Wouldst thou, my child? She counted scarce eight years,
When last she saw your face.
Thekla. O yes, yes, mother!
At the first glance!—My father is not altered. 25
The form, that stands before me, falsifies
No feature of the image that hath lived
So long within me!
Wallenstein. The voice of my child! [Then after a pause.
I was indignant at my destiny
That it denied me a man-child to be 30
Heir of my name and of my prosperous fortune,
And re-illume my soon extinguished being
In a proud line of princes.
I wronged my destiny. Here upon this head
So lovely in its maiden bloom will I 35
Let fall the garland of a life of war,
Nor deem it lost, if only I can wreath it
Transmitted to a regal ornament,
Around these beauteous brows. [He clasps her in his arms as Piccolomini enters.

LINENOTES:

After 1 [Observing the countenance of the Duchess. 1800, 1828, 1829.


Scene IX

Enter Max Piccolomini, and some time after Count Tertsky, the others remaining as before.

Countess. There comes the Paladin who protected us.
Wallenstein. Max! Welcome, ever welcome! Always wert thou
The morning star of my best joys!
Max. My General——
Wallenstein. 'Till now it was the Emperor who rewarded thee,
I but the instrument. This day thou hast bound 5
[623] The father to thee, Max! the fortunate father,
And this debt Friedland's self must pay.
Max. My prince!
You made no common hurry to transfer it.
I come with shame: yea, not without a pang!
For scarce have I arrived here, scarce delivered 10
The mother and the daughter to your arms,
But there is brought to me from your equerry
A splendid richly-plated hunting dress
So to remunerate me for my troubles——
Yes, yes, remunerate me! Since a trouble 15
It must be, a mere office, not a favour
Which I leapt forward to receive, and which
I came already with full heart to thank you for.
No! 'twas not so intended, that my business
Should be my highest best good fortune! 20

[Tertsky enters, and delivers letters to the Duke, which he breaks open hurryingly.

Countess (to Max). Remunerate your trouble! For his joy
He makes you recompense. 'Tis not unfitting
For you, Count Piccolomini, to feel
So tenderly—my brother it beseems
To shew himself for ever great and princely. 25
Thekla. Then I too must have scruples of his love:
For his munificent hands did ornament me
Ere yet the father's heart had spoken to me.
Max. Yes; 'tis his nature ever to be giving
And making happy.
How my heart pours out 30
Its all of thanks to him: O! how I seem
To utter all things in the dear name Friedland.
While I shall live, so long will I remain
The captive of this name: in it shall bloom
My every fortune, every lovely hope. 35
Inextricably as in some magic ring
In this name hath my destiny charm-bound me!
Countess. My brother wishes us to leave him. Come.
Wallenstein (turns himself round quick, collects himself, and speaks with cheerfulness to the Duchess). Once more I bid thee welcome to the camp,
[624] Thou art the hostess of this court. You, Max, 40
Will now again administer your old office,
While we perform the sovereign's business here.

[Max Piccolomini offers the Duchess his arm, the Countess accompanies the Princess.

Tertsky (calling after him). Max, we depend on seeing you at the meeting.

LINENOTES:

[30]
And making happy. [He grasps the hand of the Duchess with still increasing warmth.

1800, 1828, 1829.

Before 38 Countess (who during this time has been anxiously watching the Duke, and remarks that he is lost in thought over the letters). 1800, 1828, 1829.


Scene X

Wallenstein, Count Tertsky.

Wallenstein (to himself). She hath seen all things as they are—It is so
And squares completely with my other notices.
They have determined finally in Vienna,
Have given me my successor already;
It is the king of Hungary, Ferdinand, 5
The Emperor's delicate son! he's now their saviour,
He's the new star that's rising now! Of us
They think themselves already fairly rid,
And as we were deceased, the heir already
Is entering on possession—Therefore—dispatch! 10
[As he turns round he observes Tertsky, and gives him a letter.
Count Altringer will have himself excused,
And Galas too—I like not this!
Tertsky. And if
Thou loiterest longer, all will fall away,
One following the other.
Wallenstein. Altringer
Is master of the Tyrole passes. I must forthwith 15
Send some one to him, that he let not in
The Spaniards on me from the Milanese.
——Well, and the old Sesin, that ancient trader
In contraband negotiations, he
Has shewn himself again of late. What brings he 20
From the Count Thur?
Wallenstein. And why so? 25
[625:1]Tertsky. He says, you are never in earnest in your speeches,
That you decoy the Swedes—to make fools of them,
Will league yourself with Saxony against them,
And at last make yourself a riddance of them
With a paltry sum of money.
Wallenstein. So then, doubtless, 30
Yes, doubtless, this same modest Swede expects
That I shall yield him some fair German tract
For his prey and booty, that ourselves at last
On our own soil and native territory,
May be no longer our own lords and masters! 35
An excellent scheme! No, no! They must be off,
Off, off! away! we want no such neighbours.
Tertsky. Nay, yield them up that dot, that speck of land—
It goes not from your portion. If you win
The game what matters it to you who pays it? 40
Wallenstein. Off with them, off! Thou understand'st not this.
Never shall it be said of me, I parcelled
My native land away, dismembered Germany,
Betrayed it to a foreigner, in order
To come with stealthy tread, and filch away 45
My own share of the plunder—Never! never!—
No foreign power shall strike root in the empire,
And least of all, these Goths! these hunger-wolves!
Who send such envious, hot and greedy glances
[626] T'wards the rich blessings of our German lands! 50
I'll have their aid to cast and draw my nets,
But not a single fish of all the draught
Shall they come in for.
Tertsky. You will deal, however,
More fairly with the Saxons? They lose patience
While you shift ground and make so many curves. 55
Say, to what purpose all these masks? Your friends
Are plunged in doubts, baffled, and led astray in you.
There's Oxenstirn, there's Arnheim—neither knows
What he should think of your procrastinations.
And in the end I prove the liar: all 60
Passes through me. I have not even your hand-writing.
Wallenstein. I never give my handwriting; thou knowest it.
Tertsky. But how can it be known that you're in earnest,
If the act follows not upon the word?
You must yourself acknowledge, that in all 65
Your intercourses hitherto with the enemy
You might have done with safety all you have done,
Had you meant nothing further than to gull him
For the Emperor's service.
Wallenstein (after a pause, during which he looks narrowly on Tertsky).
And from whence dost thou know
That I'm not gulling him for the Emperor's service? 70
Whence knowest thou that I'm not gulling all of you?
Dost thou know me so well? When made I thee
The intendant of my secret purposes?
I am not conscious that I ever open'd
My inmost thoughts to thee. The Emperor, it is true, 75
Hath dealt with me amiss; and if I would,
I could repay him with usurious interest
For the evil he hath done me. It delights me
To know my power; but whether I shall use it,
Of that, I should have thought that thou could'st speak 80
No wiselier than thy fellows.
Tertsky. So hast thou always played thy game with us.

[Enter Illo.


FOOTNOTES:

[625:1] This passing off of his real irresolution and fancy-dalliance for depth of Reserve and for Plan formed within the magic circle of his own inapproachable spirits is very fine; but still it is not tragic—nay scarce obvious enough to be altogether dramatic, if in this word we involve theatre-representation. Iago (so far only analogous to Wallenstein as in him an Impulse is the source of his conduct rather than the motive), always acting is not the object of Interest, [but] derives a constant interest from Othello, on whom he is acting; from Desdemona, Cassio, every one; and, besides, for the purpose of theatric comprehensibility he is furnished with a set of outside motives that actually pass with the groundling for the true springs of action. MS. R.

LINENOTES:

Before 1 Wallenstein (in deep thought to himself). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[37]

we 1800

[62]

never 1800.

[63]

known 1800.

[69]

thou 1800.

[70]

not 1800.

[72]

me 1800.

[76]

would 1800.

[79]

power 1800.


Scene XI

Illo, Wallenstein, Tertsky.

Wallenstein. How stand affairs without? Are they prepared?
Illo. You'll find them in the very mood you wish.
They know about the Emperor's requisitions,
And are tumultuous.
Wallenstein. How hath Isolan
Declared himself?
Illo. He's yours, both soul and body, 5
Since you built up again his Faro-bank.
Wallenstein. And which way doth Kolatto bend? Hast thou
Made sure of Tiefenbach and Deodate?
Illo. What Piccolomini does, that they do too.
Wallenstein. You mean then I may venture somewhat with them? 10
Illo.—If you are assured of the Piccolomini.
Wallenstein. Not more assured of mine own self.
Tertsky. And yet
I would you trusted not so much to Octavio,
The fox!
Wallenstein. Thou teachest me to know my man?
Sixteen campaigns I have made with that old warrior. 15
Besides, I have his horoscope,
We both are born beneath like stars—in short
To this belongs its own particular aspect,
If therefore thou canst warrant me the rest——
Illo. There is among them all but this one voice, 20
You must not lay down the command. I hear
They mean to send a deputation to you.
Wallenstein. If I'm in aught to bind myself to them,
They too must bind themselves to me.
Illo. Of course.
Wallenstein. Their words of honour they must give, their oaths, 25
Give them in writing to me, promising
Devotion to my service unconditional.
[628]Illo. Why not?
Tertsky. Devotion unconditional?
The exception of their duties towards Austria
They'll always place among the premises. 30
With this reserve——
Wallenstein. All unconditional!
No premises, no reserves.
Illo. A thought has struck me.
Does not Count Tertsky give us a set banquet
This evening?
Tertsky. Yes; and all the Generals
Have been invited.
Illo (to Wallenstein). Say, will you here fully 35
Commission me to use my own discretion?
I'll gain for you the Generals' words of honour,
Even as you wish.
Wallenstein. Gain me their signatures!
How you come by them, that is your concern.
Illo. And if I bring it to you, black on white, 40
That all the leaders who are present here
Give themselves up to you, without condition;
Say, will you then—then will you shew yourself
In earnest, and with some decisive action
Make trial of your luck?
Wallenstein. The signatures! 45
Gain me the signatures.
Illo. [628:1]Seize, seize the hour
Ere it slips from you. Seldom comes the moment
In life, which is indeed sublime and weighty.
To make a great decision possible,
O! many things, all transient and all rapid, 50
Must meet at once: and, haply, they thus met
May by that confluence be enforced to pause
Time long enough for wisdom, though too short,
Far, far too short a time for doubt and scruple!
This is that moment. See, our army chieftains, 55
Our best, our noblest, are assembled around you,
[629] Their kinglike leader! On your nod they wait.
The single threads, which here your prosperous fortune
Hath woven together in one potent web
Instinct with destiny, O let them not 60
Unravel of themselves. If you permit
These chiefs to separate, so unanimous
Bring you them not a second time together.
'Tis the high tide that heaves the stranded ship,
And every individual's spirit waxes 65
In the great stream of multitudes. Behold
They are still here, here still! But soon the war
Bursts them once more asunder, and in small
Particular anxieties and interests
Scatters their spirit, and the sympathy 70
Of each man with the whole. He, who to-day
Forgets himself, forced onward with the stream,
Will become sober, seeing but himself,
Feel only his own weakness, and with speed
Will face about, and march on in the old 75
High road of duty, the old broad-trodden road,
And seek but to make shelter in good plight.
Wallenstein. The time is not yet come.
Tertsky. So you say always.
But when will it be time?
Wallenstein. When I shall say it.
Illo. You'll wait upon the stars, and on their hours, 80
Till the earthly hour escapes you. O, believe me,
In your own bosom are your destiny's stars.
Confidence in yourself, prompt resolution,
This is your Venus! and the sole malignant,
The only one that harmeth you is Doubt. 85
Wallenstein. Thou speakest as thou understand'st. How oft
And many a time I've told thee, Jupiter,
That lustrous god, was setting at thy birth.
Thy visual power subdues no mysteries;
Mole-eyed, thou mayest but burrow in the earth, 90
[629:1]Blind as that subterrestrial, who with wan,
[630] Lead-coloured shine lighted thee into life.
The common, the terrestrial, thou mayest see,
With serviceable cunning knit together
The nearest with the nearest; and therein 95
I trust thee and believe thee! but whate'er
Full of mysterious import Nature weaves,
And fashions in the depths—the spirit's ladder,
That from this gross and visible world of dust
Even to the starry world, with thousand rounds, 100
Builds itself up; on which the unseen powers
Move up and down on heavenly ministries—
The circles in the circles, that approach
The central sun with ever-narrowing orbit—
These see the glance alone, the unsealed eye, 105
Of Jupiter's glad children born in lustre. [He walks across the chamber, then returns, and standing still, proceeds.
The heavenly constellations make not merely
The day and nights, summer and spring, not merely
Signify to the husbandman the seasons
Of sowing and of harvest. Human action, 110
That is the seed too of contingencies,
Strewed on the dark land of futurity
In hopes to reconcile the powers of fate.
Whence it behoves us to seek out the seed-time,
To watch the stars, select their proper hours, 115
And trace with searching eye the heavenly houses,
Whether the enemy of growth and thriving
Hide himself not, malignant, in his corner.
Therefore permit me my own time. Meanwhile
Do you your part. As yet I cannot say 120
What I shall do—only, give way I will not.
Depose me too they shall not. On these points
You may rely.
Page (entering). My Lords, the Generals.
Wallenstein. Let them come in.

FOOTNOTES: