[647:1] In this and in Max's reply to it I have taken more liberty than in any other part of the play—except perhaps in Gordon's character of Wallenstein [Act III. Scene ii]. In truth, Max's reply after the first nine lines is almost my own, as are the first seven lines of Thekla's description. The remainder I take a little pride in as a specimen of translation, fully equal, and in diction and rhythmic feeling superior, to the original. S. T. C. MS. R.
With Man, as with his friend, familiar used
To sit indulgent.
Paradise Lost, ix. 1-3. 1800, 1828, 1829.
LINENOTES:
Max (stepping backward). 1800, 1828, 1829.
you 1800, 1828, 1829.
father 1800, 1828, 1829.
his 1800, 1828, 1829.
inalienable] unalienable 1800, 1828, 1829.
After 56 [Breaking off, and in a sportive tone. 1800, 1828, 1829.
Countess (recollecting). 1800, 1828, 1829.
Thekla (smiling). 1800, 1828, 1829.
their] her 1829.
huge] Silesian MS. R.
Scene V
Thekla and Max Piccolomini.
Don't trust them! They are false!
They had a purpose.
And how can we be instrumental to it?
There's some design in this! to make us happy,
To realize our union—trust me, love!
They but pretend to wish it.
Why use we them at all? Why not your mother?
Excellent creature! she deserves from us 10
A full and filial confidence.
Doth rate you high before all others—but—
But such a secret—she would never have
The courage to conceal it from my father.
For her own peace of mind we must preserve it 15
A secret from her too.
I love not secrets. Mark, what I will do.
[651] I'll throw me at your father's feet—let him
Decide upon my fortunes!—He is true,
He wears no mask—he hates all crooked ways— 20
He is so good, so noble!
Have liv'd ten years already in his presence,
And who knows whether in this very moment
He is not merely waiting for us both 25
To own our loves, in order to unite us.
You are silent!——
You look at me with such a hopelessness!
What have you to object against your father?
He has no leisure time to think about
The happiness of us two. [Taking his hand tenderly.
Follow me!
Let us not place too great a faith in men.
These Tertskys—we will still be grateful to them
For every kindness, but not trust them further 35
Than they deserve;—and in all else rely——
On our own hearts!
Am I not thine? There lives within my soul
A lofty courage—'tis love gives it me! 40
I ought to be less open—ought to hide
My heart more from thee—so decorum dictates:[651:1]
But where in this place could'st thou seek for truth,
If in my mouth thou did'st not find it?
FOOTNOTES:
[651:1] What may not a man write and publish, who writes with the press waiting, and composes p. 86 while the printer is composing p. 85? MS. R.
LINENOTES:
purpose 1800, 1828, 1829.
him 1800, 1828, 1829.
e'er 1800, 1828, 1829.
Scene VI
To them enters the Countess Tertsky.
It has been scarce a moment.
Flies swiftly with your Highness, Princess niece! 5
The folks begin to miss you. Twice already
His father has asked for him.
To go at all to that society? 10
'Tis not his proper company. They may
Be worthy men, but he's too young for them.
In brief, he suits not such society.
Leave him here wholly! Tell the company—
Count, you remember the conditions. Come!
What say you then, dear lady?
[He draws up to her, their eyes meet, she stands silent a moment, then throws herself into his arms; he presses her fast to his heart.
Hark! What's that noise? It comes this way.——Off!
[Max tears himself away out of her arms, and goes. The Countess accompanies him. Thekla follows him with her eyes at first, walks restlessly across the room, then stops, and remains standing, lost in thought. A guitar lies on the table, she seizes it as by a sudden emotion, and after she has played a while an irregular and melancholy symphony, she falls gradually into the music and sings.
The damsel paces along the shore; 25
The billows they tumble with might, with might;
And she flings out her voice to the darksome night;
The world it is empty, the heart will die,
There's nothing to wish for beneath the sky: 30
Thou Holy One, call thy child away!
I've lived and loved, and that was to-day—
Make ready my grave-clothes to-morrow.[653:1]
FOOTNOTES:
[653:1] I found it not in my power to translate this song with literal fidelity, preserving at the same time the Alcaic Movement, and have therefore added the original with a prose translation. Some of my readers may be more fortunate.
Thekla (spielt und singt).
Das Mägdlein wandelt an Ufers Grün,
Es bricht sich die Welle mit Macht, mit Macht,
Und sie singt hinaus in die finstre Nacht,
Das Auge von Weinen getrübet:
Das Herz ist gestorben, die Welt ist leer,
Und weiter giebt sie dem Wunsche nichts mehr.
Du Heilige, rufe dein Kind zurück,
Ich habe genossen das irdische Glück,
Ich habe gelebt und geliebet.
Literal Translation.
Thekla (plays and sings).
The oak-forest bellows, the clouds gather, the damsel walks to and fro on the green of the shore; the wave breaks with might, with might, and she sings out into the dark night, her eye discoloured with weeping: the heart is dead, the world is empty, and further gives it nothing more to the wish. Thou Holy One, call thy child home. I have enjoyed the happiness of this world, I have lived and have loved.
I cannot but add here an imitation of this song, with which the author of The Tale of Rosamond Gray and Blind Margaret has favoured me, and which appears to me to have caught the happiest manner of our old ballads.
The cavern doth mutter, the greenwood moan;
Billows are breaking, the damsel's heart aching,
Thus in the dark night she singeth alone,
Her eye upward roving:
The world is empty, the heart is dead surely,
In this world plainly all seemeth amiss;
To thy heaven, Holy One, take home thy little one,
I have partaken of all earth's bliss,
Both living and loving.
The text of Lamb's version as printed in Works, 1818, i. 42 is as follows:
BALLAD.
From the German.
And ever the forest maketh a moan:
Billows are breaking, the damsel's heart aching,
Thus by herself she singeth alone,
Weeping right plenteously.
The world is empty, the heart is dead surely,
In this world plainly all seemeth amiss:
To thy breast, holy one, take now thy little one,
I have had earnest of all earth's bliss
Living most lovingly.
Spring, 1800.
LINENOTES:
Countess (in a pressing manner). 1800, 1828, 1829.
1800, 1828, 1829.
that 1800, 1828, 1829.
Thekla (with energy). 1800, 1828, 1829.
Scene VII
Countess (returns), Thekla.
Like a poor gift to one who cares not for it,
And so must be flung after him! For you,
Duke Friedland's only child, I should have thought
It had been more beseeming to have shewn yourself 5
More chary of your person.
Who you are, and who he is. But perchance
That never once occurred to you.
He's of an ancient Lombard family,
Son of a reigning princess.
Talking in sleep? An excellent jest, forsooth! 15
We shall no doubt right courteously entreat him
To honour with his hand the richest heiress
In Europe.
Will interpose no difficulty——
His father! his! But yours, niece, what of yours?
So anxiously you hide it from the man!
His father, his, I mean.
Triumph too soon!—
His most important life in toils of war,
Denied himself each quiet earthly bliss,
Had banished slumber from his tent, devoted
His noble head to care, and for this only,
To make a happy pair of you? At length 35
To draw you from your convent, and conduct
In easy triumph to your arms the man
That chanc'd to please your eyes! All this, methinks,
He might have purchased at a cheaper rate.
Bear me fair fruitage of its own accord.
And if my friendly and affectionate fate,
Out of his fearful and enormous being,
Will but prepare the joys of life for me—
Cast thine eye round, bethink thee who thou art.
Into no house of joyance hast thou stepped,
For no espousals dost thou find the walls
Deck'd out, no guests the nuptial garland wearing.
Here is no splendour but of arms. Or think'st thou 50
That all these thousands are here congregated
To lead up the long dances at thy wedding?
Thou see'st thy father's forehead full of thought,
[656] Thy mother's eye in tears: upon the balance
Lies the great destiny of all our house. 55
Leave now the puny wish, the girlish feeling,
O thrust it far behind thee! Give thou proof,
Thou'rt the daughter of the Mighty—his
Who where he moves creates the wonderful.
Not to herself the woman must belong, 60
Annexed and bound to alien destinies.
But she performs the best part, she the wisest,
Who can transmute the alien into self,
Meet and disarm necessity by choice;
And what must be, take freely to her heart, 65
And bear and foster it with mother's love.
I had no loves, no wishes, knew myself
Only as his—his daughter—his, the Mighty!
His fame, the echo of whose blast drove to me 70
From the far distance, wakened in my soul
No other thought than this—I am appointed
To offer up myself in passiveness to him.
I and thy mother gave thee the example. 75
That I should offer up myself. In gladness
Him will I follow.
Thy heart, say rather—'twas thy heart, my child!
I am all his! His Present—his alone,
Is this new life, which lives in me. He hath
A right to his own creature. What was I
Ere his fair love infused a soul into me?
Have otherwise determined with thy person?
[Thekla remains silent. The Countess continues.
Thou mean'st to force him to thy liking?—Child,
His name is Friedland.
He shall have found a genuine daughter in me.
And in the wilful mood of his own daughter
[657] Shall a new struggle rise for him? Child! child!
As yet thou hast seen thy father's smiles alone;
The eye of his rage thou hast not seen. Dear child,
I will not frighten thee. To that extreme, 95
I trust, it ne'er shall come. His will is yet
Unknown to me: 'tis possible his aims
May have the same direction as thy wish.
But this can never, never be his will,
That thou, the daughter of his haughty fortunes, 100
Should'st e'er demean thee as a love-sick maiden;
And like some poor cost-nothing, fling thyself
Toward the man, who, if that high prize ever
Be destined to await him, yet, with sacrifices
The highest love can bring, must pay for it. [Exit Countess. 105
My sad presentiment to certainty.
And it is so!—Not one friend have we here,
Not one true heart! we've nothing but ourselves!
O she said rightly—no auspicious signs 110
Beam on this covenant of our affections.
This is no theatre, where hope abides.
The dull thick noise of war alone stirs here.
And love himself, as he were armed in steel,
Steps forth, and girds him for the strife of death. 115
[Music from the banquet-room is heard.
There's a dark spirit walking in our house,
And swiftly will the Destiny close on us.
It drove me hither from my calm asylum,
It mocks my soul with charming witchery,
It lures me forward in a seraph's shape, 120
I see it near, I see it nearer floating,
It draws, it pulls me with a god-like power—
And lo! the abyss—and thither am I moving—
I have no power within me not to move!
[The music from the banquet-room becomes louder.
O when a house is doomed in fire to perish, 125
Many a dark heaven drives his clouds together,
Yea, shoots his lightnings down from sunny heights,
Flames burst from out the subterraneous chasms,
[658] And fiends and angels mingling in their fury,
Sling fire-brands at the burning edifice.[658:1] 130
[Exit Thekla.
FOOTNOTES:
[655:1] A noble speech, and with the additional excellence of being in character. MS. R.
[658:1] There are few, who will not have taste enough to laugh at the two concluding lines of this soliloquy; and still fewer, I would fain hope, who would not have been more disposed to shudder, had I given a faithful translation. For the readers of German I have added the original:
Den Pechkranz in das brennende Gebäude.[658:A]
[658:A] The two lines are sufficiently fustian, but this seems no reason for interpreting 'the God of Joy' as any higher divinity than Comus or rather an allegoric personage. Festivity alluding to the festive music and uproar heard from the banquet-room. MS. R.
LINENOTES:
Thekla (rising). 1800, 1828, 1829.
you 1800, 1828, 1829.
born . . . become 1800, 1828, 1829.
entreat 1800, 1828, 1829.
His 1800, 1828, 1829.
His . . . his 1800, 1828, 1829.
His . . . his 1800, 1828, 1829.
Countess (looks at her, as scrutinizing). 1800, 1828, 1829.
false 1800, 1828, 1829.
Thekla (interrupting her, and attempting to soothe her). 1800, 1828, 1829.
his 1800, 1828, 1829.
is 1800, 1828, 1829.
him 1800, 1828, 1829.
Him 1800, 1828, 1829.
His Present—his 1800, 1828, 1829.
My 1800, 1828, 1829.
if 1800, 1828, 1829.
Before 106 Thekla (who during the last speech had been standing evidently lost in her reflections). 1800, 1828, 1829.
covenant] couvenant 1800.
a] and 1800, 1828, 1829.
Scene VIII
A large Saloon lighted up with festal Splendour; in the midst of it, and in the Centre of the Stage, a Table richly set out, at which eight Generals are sitting, among whom are Octavio Piccolomini, Tertsky, and Maradas. Right and left of this, but farther back, two other Tables, at each of which six Persons are placed. The Middle Door, which is standing open, gives to the Prospect a Fourth Table, with the same Number of Persons. More forward stands the sideboard. The whole front of the Stage is kept open for the Pages and Servants in waiting. All is in Motion. The Band of Music belonging to Tertsky's Regiment march across the Stage, and draw up round the Tables. Before they are quite off from the Front of the Stage, Max Piccolomini appears, Tertsky advances towards him with a Paper, Isolani comes up to meet him with a Beaker or Service-cup.
Tertsky, Isolani, Max Piccolomini.
Off to thy place—quick! Tertsky here has given
The mother's holiday wine up to free booty.
Here it goes on as at the Heidelberg castle.
Already hast thou lost the best. They're giving 5
At yonder table ducal crowns in shares;
There's Sternberg's lands and chattels are put up,
With Egenberg's, Stawata's, Lichtenstein's,
And all the great Bohemian feodalities.
Be nimble, lad! and something may turn up 10
[659] For thee—who knows? off—to thy place! quick! march!
This oath here, whether as 'tis here set forth,
The wording satisfies you. They've all read it, 15
Each in his turn, and each one will subscribe
His individual signature.
And being interpreted, pray what may't mean?
Duke of Friedland, in consequence of the manifold affronts and
grievances which he has received, had expressed his determination
to quit the Emperor, but on our unanimous entreaty has
graciously consented to remain still with the army, and not to 25
part from us without our approbation thereof, so we, collectively
and each in particular, in the stead of an oath personally taken,
do hereby oblige ourselves—likewise by him honourably and
faithfully to hold, and in nowise whatsoever from him to
part, and to be ready to shed for his interests the last drop of 30
our blood, so far, namely, as our oath to the Emperor will permit
it. (These last words are repeated by Isolani.) In testimony of
which we subscribe our names.'
Can do it, aye, must do it.—Pen and ink here!
[Both seat themselves at their table.