Before 16 Butler (appeased). 1800, 1828, 1829.
words 1800, 1828, 1829.
Both (starting back). 1800, 1828, 1829.
thee, Macdonald] the Macdonald 1800.
Devereux (hesitates). The Pestalutz— 1800, 1828, 1829.
must 1800, 1828, 1829.
will 1800, 1828, 1829.
Before 72 Devereux (after some reflection). 1800, 1828, 1829.
him 1800, 1828, 1829.
Butler (starting up). What? 1800, 1828, 1829.
flash] slash 1800, 1828, 1829.
Scene III
Scene—A Gothic Apartment at the Duchess Friedland's. Thekla on a seat, pale, her eyes closed. The Duchess and Lady Neubrunn busied about her. Wallenstein and the Countess in conversation.
Foreboded some misfortune. The report
Of an engagement, in the which had fallen
A colonel of the Imperial army, frighten'd her.
I saw it instantly. She flew to meet 5
The Swedish Courier, and with sudden questioning,
Soon wrested from him the disastrous secret.
Too late we missed her, hastened after her,
[786] We found her lying in his arms, all pale
And in a swoon.
And she so unprepared! Poor child! How is it? [Turning to the Duchess.
Is she coming to herself?
See, there's thy loving mother. Thou art in 15
Thy father's arms.
That word of misery.
My Thekla!
Let her complain—mingle your tears with hers, 20
For she hath suffered a deep anguish; but
She'll rise superior to it, for my Thekla
Hath all her father's unsubdued heart.
Why does my mother weep? Have I alarmed her? 25
It is gone by—I recollect myself— [She casts her eyes round the room, as seeking some one.
Where is he? Please you, do not hide him from me.
You see I have strength enough: now I will hear him.
Enter again into thy presence, Thekla! 30
Shortly I shall be quite myself again.
You'll grant me one request?
And grant me leave, that by myself I may 35
Hear his report and question him.
I will not be deceived. My mother wishes 40
Only to spare me. I will not be spared.
The worst is said already: I can hear
Nothing of deeper anguish!
My heart betrayed me in the stranger's presence; 45
He was a witness of my weakness, yea,
I sank into his arms; and that has shamed me.
I must replace myself in his esteem,
And I must speak with him, perforce, that he,
The stranger, may not think ungently of me. 50
To grant her this request of hers. Go, call him. [Lady Neubrunn goes to call him.
More pleasing to me, if alone I saw him:
Trust me, I shall behave myself the more 55
Collectedly.
Leave her alone with him: for there are sorrows,
Where of necessity the soul must be
Its own support. A strong heart will rely
On its own strength alone. In her own bosom, 60
Not in her mother's arms, must she collect
The strength to rise superior to this blow.
It is mine own brave girl. I'll have her treated
Not as the woman, but the heroine. [Going.
That 'tis thy purpose to depart from hence
To-morrow early, but to leave us here.
Of gallant men.
Leave us not in this gloomy solitude 70
To brood o'er anxious thoughts. The mists of doubt
[788] Magnify evils to a shape of horror.
Use words of better omen.
O leave us not behind you in a place 75
That forces us to such sad omens. Heavy
And sick within me is my heart——
These walls breathe on me, like a church-yard vault.
I cannot tell you, brother, how this place
Doth go against my nature. Take us with you. 80
Come, sister, join you your entreaty!—Niece,
Yours too. We all entreat you, take us with you!
Making it that which shields and shelters for me
My best beloved.
That thou should'st speak with him. Follow thy mother.
LINENOTES:
Scene—A Gothic and gloomy, &c. 1800, 1828, 1829.
thy 1800, 1828, 1829.
Scene IV
Thekla, the Swedish Captain, Lady Neubrunn.
My inconsiderate rash speech—How could I—
A most distressful accident occasioned
You from a stranger to become at once 5
My confidant.
For my tongue spake a melancholy word.
The horror which came o'er me interrupted
Your tale at its commencement. May it please you, 10
Continue it to the end.
Renew your anguish.
Entrenched but insecurely in our camp, 15
When towards evening rose a cloud of dust
From the wood thitherward; our vanguard fled
Into the camp, and sounded the alarm.
Scarce had we mounted, ere the Pappenheimers,
Their horses at full speed, broke through the lines, 20
And leapt the trenches; but their heedless courage
Had borne them onward far before the others—
The infantry were still at distance, only
The Pappenheimers followed daringly
Their daring leader——
[Thekla betrays agitation in her gestures. The officer pauses till she makes a sign to him to proceed.
With our whole cavalry we now received them;
Back to the trenches drove them, where the foot
Stretched out a solid ridge of pikes to meet them.
They neither could advance, nor yet retreat;
And as they stood on every side wedged in, 30
The Rhinegrave to their leader called aloud,
Inviting a surrender; but their leader,
Young Piccolomini—— [Thekla, as giddy, grasps a chair.
Known by his plume,
And his long hair, gave signal for the trenches;
Himself leapt first, the regiment all plunged after. 35
His charger, by a halbert gored, reared up,
Flung him with violence off, and over him
The horses, now no longer to be curbed,——
[Thekla, who has accompanied the last speech with all the marks of increasing agony, trembles through her whole frame, and is falling. The Lady Neubrunn runs to her, and receives her in her arms.
Proceed to the conclusion.
Inspired the troops with frenzy when they saw
Their leader perish; every thought of rescue
[790] Was spurn'd; they fought like wounded tigers; their
Frantic resistance rous'd our soldiery;
A murderous fight took place, nor was the contest 45
Finish'd before their last man fell.
Where is—You have not told me all.
We buried him. Twelve youths of noblest birth
Did bear him to interment; the whole army
Followed the bier. A laurel decked his coffin; 50
The sword of the deceased was placed upon it,
In mark of honour, by the Rhinegrave's self.
Nor tears were wanting; for there are among us
Many, who had themselves experienced
The greatness of his mind, and gentle manners; 55
All were affected at his fate. The Rhinegrave
Would willingly have saved him; but himself
Made vain the attempt—'tis said he wished to die.
my dearest lady——
Are his remains deposited, until
We can receive directions from his father.
And Falkenberg, through our advanced posts.
Is their commander?
[Thekla steps to the table, and takes a ring from a casket.
And shewn a feeling heart. Please you, accept [Giving him the ring.
A small memorial of this hour. Now go! 70
[Thekla silently makes signs to him to go, and turns from him. The Captain lingers, and is about to speak. Lady Neubrunn repeats the signal, and he retires.
LINENOTES:
Before 1 Captain (respectfully approaching her). 1800, 1828, 1829.
Before 3 Thekla (with dignity). 1800, 1828, 1829.
did behold] have beheld 1800, 1828, 1829.
will 1800, 1828, 1829.
Thekla (faltering). And where— 1800, 1828, 1829.
Before 71 Captain (confused). 1800, 1828, 1829.
Scene V
Thekla, Lady Neubrunn.
Which thou hast ever promised—prove thyself
My own true friend and faithful fellow-pilgrim.
This night we must away!
Thither where he lies buried! To his coffin!
That would'st thou not have asked, hadst thou e'er loved.
There, there is all that still remains of him.
That single spot is the whole earth to me. 10
Where life yet dwells for me: detain me not!
Come and make preparations: let us think
Of means to fly from hence.
And now I fear no human being's rage.
Am I then hastening to the arms——O God!
I haste but to the grave of the beloved. 20
Under the hoofs of his war-horses?
And then the many posts of the enemy!—
Through the whole earth.
Of hope and healing, doth not count the leagues. 30
Go, do but go.
Will no one seek the daughter of Duke Friedland.
Your tender mother—Ah! how ill prepared
For this last anguish!
Go instantly.
And this is not the way that leads to quiet.
It draws me on, I know not what to name it, 50
Resistless does it draw me to his grave.
There will my heart be eased, my tears will flow.
O hasten, make no further questioning!
There is no rest for me till I have left
These walls—they fall in on me—A dim power 55
Drives me from hence—Oh mercy! What a feeling!
What pale and hollow forms are those! They fill,
They crowd the place! I have no longer room here!
Mercy! Still more! More still! The hideous swarm!
They press on me; they chase me from these walls— 60
Those hollow, bodiless forms of living men!
I dare stay here myself. I go and call
Rosenberg instantly. [Exit Lady Neubrunn.
LINENOTES:
arms] arm 1800, 1828, 1829.
can 1800, 1828, 1829.
Scene VI
Of his true followers, who offered up
Themselves to avenge his death: and they accuse me
Of an ignoble loitering—they would not
Forsake their leader even in his death—they died for him! 5
And shall I live?——
For me too was that laurel-garland twined
That decks his bier. Life is an empty casket:
I throw it from me. O! my only hope;—
To die beneath the hoofs of trampling steeds— 10
That is the lot of heroes upon earth! [Exit Thekla.[793:1]
(The curtain drops.)
FOOTNOTES:
[793:1] The soliloquy of Thekla consists in the original of six-and-twenty lines, twenty of which are in rhymes of irregular recurrence. I thought it prudent to abridge it. Indeed the whole scene between Thekla and Lady Neubrunn might, perhaps, have been omitted without injury to the play. 1800, 1828, 1829.
LINENOTES:
they 1800, 1828, 1829.
they 1800, 1828, 1829.
I 1800, 1828, 1829.
ACT V
Scene I
Scene—A Saloon, terminated by a gallery which extends far into the back-ground. Wallenstein sitting at a table. The Swedish Captain standing before him.
In his good fortune; and if you have seen me
Deficient in the expressions of that joy
Which such a victory might well demand,
Attribute it to no lack of good will, 5
For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell,
And for your trouble take my thanks. To-morrow
The citadel shall be surrendered to you
On your arrival.
[The Swedish Captain retires. Wallenstein sits lost in thought, his eyes fixed vacantly, and his head sustained by his hand. The Countess Tertsky enters, stands before him awhile, unobserved by him; at length he starts, sees her, and recollects himself.
After her conversation with the Swede.
She has now retired to rest.
She will shed tears.
My brother! After such a victory 15
I had expected to have found in thee
A cheerful spirit. O remain thou firm!
Sustain, uphold us! For our light thou art,
Our sun.
Thy husband?
The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower,
Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle[794:1] of the moon, 25
Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light.
No form of star is visible! That one
[795] White stain of light, that single glimmering yonder,
Is from Cassiopeia, and therein
Is Jupiter. (A pause.) But now 30
The blackness of the troubled element hides him!
[He sinks into profound melancholy, and looks vacantly into the distance.
What art thou brooding on?
If I but saw him, 'twould be well with me.
He, is the star of my nativity,
And often marvellously hath his aspect 35
Shot strength into my heart.
For him there is no longer any future, 40
His life is bright—bright without spot it was,
And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour
Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap.
Far off is he, above desire and fear;
No more submitted to the change and chance 45
Of the unsteady planets. O 'tis well
With him! but who knows what the coming hour
Veil'd in thick darkness brings for us!
Of Piccolomini. What was his death?
The courier had just left thee as I came. 50
[Wallenstein by a motion of his hand makes signs to her to be silent.
Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view,
Let us look forward into sunny days,
Welcome with joyous heart the victory,
Forget what it has cost thee. Not to-day,
For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead; 55
To thee he died, when first he parted from thee.
What does not man grieve down? From the highest,
As from the vilest thing of every day
He learns to wean himself: for the strong hours 60
Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost
In him. The bloom is vanished from my life.
For O! he stood beside me, like my youth,
Transformed for me the real to a dream,
Clothing the palpable and familiar 65
With golden exhalations of the dawn.
Whatever fortunes wait my future toils,
The beautiful is vanished—and returns not.
Thy heart is rich enough to vivify 70
Itself. Thou lov'st and prizest virtues in him,
The which thyself did'st plant, thyself unfold.
It is the Governor. He brings the keys
Of the Citadel. 'Tis midnight. Leave me, sister! 75
A boding fear possesses me!
Never more find thee!
Has long been weighed down by these dark forebodings. 80
And if I combat and repel them waking,
They still rush down upon my heart in dreams,
I saw thee yesternight with thy first wife
Sit at a banquet gorgeously attired.
That marriage being the founder of my fortunes.
In thy own chamber. As I entered, lo!
It was no more a chamber; the Chartreuse
At Gitschin 'twas, which thou thyself hast founded, 90
And where it is thy will that thou should'st be
Interred.
A voice of warning speaks prophetic to us?
Yet I would not call them
Voices of warning that announce to us
Only the inevitable. As the sun,
Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image
In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits 100
Of great events stride on before the events,
And in to-day already walks to-morrow.
That which we read of the fourth Henry's death
Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale
Of my own future destiny. The King 105
Felt in his breast the phantom of the knife,
Long ere Ravaillac arm'd himself therewith.
His quiet mind forsook him: the phantasma
Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth
Into the open air: like funeral knells 110
Sounded that coronation festival;
And still with boding sense he heard the tread
Of those feet that ev'n then were seeking him
Throughout the streets of Paris.
The voice within thy soul bodes nothing?
Be wholly tranquil.
I hastened after thee, and thou ran'st from me
Through a long suite, through many a spacious hall,
There seemed no end of it: doors creaked and clapped;
I followed panting, but could not o'ertake thee; 120
When on a sudden did I feel myself
Grasped from behind—the hand was cold that grasped me—
'Twas thou, and thou did'st kiss me, and there seemed
[798] A crimson covering to envelop us.
Who standest now before me in the fulness
Of life— [She falls on his breast and weeps.
Alphabets wound not—and he finds no hands. 130
I bear about me my support and refuge. [Exit Countess.