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The Death of Wallenstein

Chapter 47: SCENE VI.
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About This Book

A commanding military leader faces exposure when a courier carrying his secret correspondence is captured, forcing him to confront betrayal and imperial scrutiny. His advisors debate whether to seek reconciliation or press forward, while he relies on both astrological interpretation and the loyalty of his troops. Intrigues among officers, envoys, and family members deepen his isolation as plots converge. The drama interweaves councils, private scenes, and symbolic celestial imagery to explore themes of fate versus choice, ambition, honor, and the corrosive effects of power. Structured across five acts of escalating tension, it traces a tragic descent from strategic maneuvering to conspiracy and violent resolution.





SCENE XVI.

     To these enter BUTLER.

  BUTLER (passionately).
  General! this is not right!

  WALLENSTEIN.
                 What is not right?

  BUTLER.
  It must needs injure us with all honest men.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  But what?

  BUTLER.
        It is an open proclamation
  Of insurrection.

  WALLENSTEIN.
           Well, well—but what is it?

  BUTLER.
  Count Terzky's regiments tear the imperial eagle
  From off his banners, and instead of it
  Have reared aloft their arms.

  ANSPESSADE (abruptly to the CUIRASSIERS).
                  Right about! March!

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Cursed be this counsel, and accursed who gave it!
     [To the CUIRASSIERS, who are retiring.
  Halt, children, halt! There's some mistake in this;
  Hark! I will punish it severely. Stop
  They do not hear. (To ILLO). Go after them, assure them,
  And bring them back to me, cost what it may.

     [ILLO hurries out.

  This hurls us headlong. Butler! Butler!
  You are my evil genius, wherefore must you
  Announce it in their presence? It was all
  In a fair way. They were half won! those madmen
  With their improvident over-readiness—
  A cruel game is Fortune playing with me.
  The zeal of friends it is that razes me,
  And not the hate of enemies.




SCENE XVII.

     To these enter the DUCHESS, who rushes into the chamber;
     THEKLA and the COUNTESS follow her.

  DUCHESS.
                O Albrecht!
  What hast thou done?

  WALLENSTEIN.
             And now comes this beside.

  COUNTESS.
  Forgive me, brother! It was not in my power—
  They know all.

  DUCHESS.
          What hast thou done?

  COUNTESS (to TERZKY).
  Is there no hope? Is all lost utterly?

  TERZKY.
  All lost. No hope. Prague in the emperor's hands,
  The soldiery have taken their oaths anew.

  COUNTESS.
  That lurking hypocrite, Octavio!
  Count Max. is off too.

  TERZKY.
              Where can he be? He's
  Gone over to the emperor with his father.

     [THEKLA rushes out into the arms of her mother, hiding her face
     in her bosom.

  DUCHESS (enfolding her in her arms).
  Unhappy child! and more unhappy mother!

  WALLENSTEIN (aside to TERZKY).
  Quick! Let a carriage stand in readiness
  In the court behind the palace. Scherfenberg,
  Be their attendant; he is faithful to us.
  To Egra he'll conduct them, and we follow.
     [To ILLO, who returns.
  Thou hast not brought them back?

  ILLO.
                 Hear'st thou the uproar?
  The whole corps of the Pappenheimers is
  Drawn out: the younger Piccolomini,
  Their colonel, they require: for they affirm,
  That he is in the palace here, a prisoner;
  And if thou dost not instantly deliver him,
  They will find means to free him with the sword.

     [All stand amazed.

  TERZKY.
  What shall we make of this?

  WALLENSTEIN.
                 Said I not so?
  O my prophetic heart! he is still here.
  He has not betrayed me—he could not betray me.
  I never doubted of it.

  COUNTESS.
              If he be
  Still here, then all goes well; for I know what
     [Embracing THEKLA.
  Will keep him here forever.

  TERZKY.
                 It can't be.
  His father has betrayed us, is gone over
  To the emperor—the son could not have ventured
  To stay behind.

  THEKLA (her eye fixed on the door).
           There he is!




SCENE XVIII.

     To these enter MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

  MAX.
  Yes, here he is! I can endure no longer
  To creep on tiptoe round this house, and lurk
  In ambush for a favorable moment:
  This loitering, this suspense exceeds my powers.

     [Advancing to THEKLA, who has thrown herself into her mother's arms.

  Turn not thine eyes away. O look upon me!
  Confess it freely before all. Fear no one.
  Let who will hear that we both love each other.
  Wherefore continue to conceal it? Secrecy
  Is for the happy—misery, hopeless misery,
  Needeth no veil! Beneath a thousand suns
  It dares act openly.

     [He observes the COUNTESS looking on THEKLA with expressions
     of triumph.

             No, lady! No!
  Expect not, hope it not. I am not come
  To stay: to bid farewell, farewell forever.
  For this I come! 'Tis over! I must leave thee!
  Thekla, I must—must leave thee! Yet thy hatred
  Let me not take with me. I pray thee, grant me
  One look of sympathy, only one look.
  Say that thou dost not hate me. Say it to me, Thekla!

                 [Grasps her hand.

  O God! I cannot leave this spot—I cannot!
  Cannot let go this hand. O tell me, Thekla!
  That thou dost suffer with me, art convinced
  That I cannot act otherwise.

     [THEKLA, avoiding his look, points with her hand to her father.
     MAX. turns round to the DUKE, whom he had not till then perceived.

  Thou here? It was not thou whom here I sought.
  I trusted never more to have beheld thee,
  My business is with her alone. Here will I
  Receive a full acquittal from this heart;
  For any other I am no more concerned.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Think'st thou that, fool-like, I shall let thee go,
  And act the mock-magnanimous with thee?
  Thy father is become a villain to me;
  I hold thee for his son, and nothing more
  Nor to no purpose shalt thou have been given
  Into my power. Think not, that I will honor
  That ancient love, which so remorselessly
  He mangled. They are now passed by, those hours
  Of friendship and forgiveness. Hate and vengeance
  Succeed—'tis now their turn—I too can throw
  All feelings of the man aside—can prove
  Myself as much a monster as thy father!

  MAX (calmly).
  Thou wilt proceed with me as thou hast power.
  Thou knowest I neither brave nor fear thy rage.
  What has detained me here, that too thou knowest.
     [Taking THEKLA by the hand.
  See, duke! All—all would I have owed to thee,
  Would have received from thy paternal hand
  The lot of blessed spirits. That hast thou
  Laid waste forever—that concerns not thee.
  Indifferent thou tramplest in the dust
  Their happiness who most are thine. The god
  Whom thou dost serve is no benignant deity,
  Like as the blind, irreconcilable,
  Fierce element, incapable of compact.
  Thy heart's wild impulse only dost thou follow. 5
  WALLENSTEIN.
  Thou art describing thy own father's heart.
  The adder! Oh, the charms of hell o'erpowered me
  He dwelt within me, to my inmost soul
  Still to and fro he passed, suspected never.
  On the wide ocean, in the starry heaven
  Did mine eyes seek the enemy, whom I
  In my heart's heart had folded! Had I been
  To Ferdinand what Octavio was to me,
  War had I ne'er denounced against him.
  No, I never could have done it. The emperor was
  My austere master only, not my friend.
  There was already war 'twixt him and me
  When he delivered the commander's staff
  Into my hands; for there's a natural
  Unceasing war twixt cunning and suspicion;
  Peace exists only betwixt confidence
  And faith. Who poisons confidence, he murders
  The future generations.

  MAX.
               I will not
  Defend my father. Woe is me, I cannot!
  Hard deeds and luckless have taken place; one crime
  Drags after it the other in close link.
  But we are innocent: how have we fallen
  Into this circle of mishap and guilt?
  To whom have we been faithless? Wherefore must
  The evil deeds and guilt reciprocal
  Of our two fathers twine like serpents round us?
                Why must our fathers'
  Unconquerable hate rend us asunder,
  Who love each other?

  WALLENSTEIN.
             Max., remain with me.
  Go you not from me, Max.! Hark! I will tell thee——
  How when at Prague, our winter quarters, thou
  Wert brought into my tent a tender boy,
  Not yet accustomed to the German winters;
  Thy hand was frozen to the heavy colors;
  Thou wouldst not let them go.
  At that time did I take thee in my arms,
  And with my mantle did I cover thee;
  I was thy nurse, no woman could have been
  A kinder to thee; I was not ashamed
  To do for thee all little offices,
  However strange to me; I tended thee
  Till life returned; and when thine eyes first opened,
  I had thee in my arms. Since then, when have
  Altered my feelings toward thee? Many thousands
  Have I made rich, presented them with lands;
  Rewarded them with dignities and honors;
  Thee have I loved: my heart, my self, I gave
  To thee; They all were aliens: thou wert
  Our child and inmate. 6 Max.! Thou canst not leave me;
  It cannot be; I may not, will not think
  That Max. can leave me.

  MAX.
               Oh, my God!

  WALLENSTEIN
                     I have
  Held and sustained thee from thy tottering childhood.
  What holy bond is there of natural love,
  What human tie that does not knit thee to me?
  I love thee, Max.! What did thy father for thee,
  Which I too have not done, to the height of duty?
  Go hence, forsake me, serve thy emperor;
  He will reward thee with a pretty chain
  Of gold; with his ram's fleece will he reward thee;
  For that the friend, the father of thy youth,
  For that the holiest feeling of humanity,
  Was nothing worth to thee.

  MAX.
                O God! how can I
  Do otherwise. Am I not forced to do it,
  My oath—my duty—my honor——

  WALLENSTEIN.
                 How? Thy duty?
  Duty to whom? Who art thou? Max.! bethink thee
  What duties may'st thou have? If I am acting
  A criminal part toward the emperor,
  It is my crime, not thine. Dost thou belong
  To thine own self? Art thou thine own commander?
  Stand'st thou, like me, a freeman in the world,
  That in thy actions thou shouldst plead free agency?
  On me thou art planted, I am thy emperor;
  To obey me, to belong to me, this is
  Thy honor, this a law of nature to thee!
  And if the planet on the which thou livest
  And hast thy dwelling, from its orbit starts.
  It is not in thy choice, whether or no
  Thou'lt follow it. Unfelt it whirls thee onward
  Together with his ring, and all his moons.
  With little guilt steppest thou into this contest;
  Thee will the world not censure, it will praise thee,
  For that thou held'st thy friend more worth to thee
  Than names and influences more removed
  For justice is the virtue of the ruler,
  Affection and fidelity the subject's.
  Not every one doth it beseem to question
  The far-off high Arcturus. Most securely
  Wilt thou pursue the nearest duty: let
  The pilot fix his eye upon the pole-star.




SCENE XIX.

     To these enter NEUMANN.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  What now?

  NEUMANN.
        The Pappenheimers are dismounted,
  And are advancing now on foot, determined
  With sword in hand to storm the house, and free
  The count, their colonel.

  WALLENSTEIN (to TERZKY).
                Have the cannon planted.
  I will receive them with chain-shot.
                  [Exit TERZKY.
  Prescribe to me with sword in hand! Go, Neumann!
  'Tis my command that they retreat this moment,
  And in their ranks in silence wait my pleasure.

     [NEUMANN exit. ILLO steps to the window.

  COUNTESS.
  Let him go, I entreat thee, let him go.

  ILLO (at the window).
  Hell and perdition!

  WALLENSTEIN.
             What is it?

  ILLO.
  They scale the council-house, the roof's uncovered,
  They level at this house the cannon——

  MAX.
                      Madmen

  ILLO.
  They are making preparations now to fire on us.

  DUCHESS and COUNTESS.
  Merciful heaven!

  MAX. (to WALLENSTEIN).
           Let me go to them!

  WALLENSTEIN.
                     Not a step!

  MAX. (pointing to THEKLA and the DUCHESS).
  But their life! Thine!

  WALLENSTEIN.
              What tidings bringest thou, Terzky?




SCENE XX.

     To these TERZKY returning.

  TERZKY.
  Message and greeting from our faithful regiments.
  Their ardor may no longer be curbed in.
  They entreat permission to commence the attack;
  And if thou wouldst but give the word of onset
  They could now charge the enemy in rear,
  Into the city wedge them, and with ease
  O'erpower them in the narrow streets.

  ILLO.
                      Oh come
  Let not their ardor cool. The soldiery
  Of Butler's corps stand by us faithfully;
  We are the greater number. Let us charge them
  And finish here in Pilsen the revolt.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  What? shall this town become a field of slaughter,
  And brother-killing discord, fire-eyed,
  Be let loose through its streets to roam and rage?
  Shall the decision be delivered over
  To deaf remorseless rage, that hears no leader?
  Here is not room for battle, only for butchery.
  Well, let it be! I have long thought of it,
  So let it burst then!
             [Turns to MAX.
              Well, how is it with thee?
  Wilt thou attempt a heat with me. Away!
  Thou art free to go. Oppose thyself to me,
  Front against front, and lead them to the battle;
  Thou'rt skilled in war, thou hast learned somewhat under me,
  I need not be ashamed of my opponent,
  And never hadst thou fairer opportunity
  To pay me for thy schooling.

  COUNTESS.
                 Is it then,
  Can it have come to this? What! Cousin, cousin!
  Have you the heart?

  MAX.
  The regiments that are trusted to my care
  I have pledged my troth to bring away from Pilsen
  True to the emperor; and this promise will I
  Make good, or perish. More than this no duty
  Requires of me. I will not fight against thee,
  Unless compelled; for though an enemy,
  Thy head is holy to me still,

     [Two reports of cannon. ILLO and TERZKY hurry to the window.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  What's that?

  TERZBY.
         He falls.

  WALLENSTEIN.
               Falls! Who?

  ILLO.
                      Tiefenbach's corps
  Discharged the ordnance.

  WALLENSTEIN.
               Upon whom?

  ILLO.
                     On—Neumann,
  Your messenger.

  WALLENSTEIN (starting up).
           Ha! Death and hell! I will——

  TERZKY.
  Expose thyself to their blind frenzy?

  DUCHESS and COUNTESS.
                      No!
  For God's sake, no!

  ILLO.
             Not yet, my general!
  Oh, hold him! hold him!

  WALLENSTEIN.
               Leave me——

  MAX.
                     Do it not;
  Not yet! This rash and bloody deed has thrown them
  Into a frenzy-fit—allow them time——

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Away! too long already have I loitered.
  They are emboldened to these outrages,
  Beholding not my face. They shall behold
  My countenance, shall hear my voice—
  Are they not my troops? Am I not their general,
  And their long-feared commander! Let me see,
  Whether indeed they do no longer know
  That countenance which was their sun in battle!
  From the balcony (mark!) I show myself
  To these rebellious forces, and at once
  Revolt is mounded, and the high-swollen current
  Shrinks back into the old bed of obedience.

     [Exit WALLENSTEIN; ILLO, TERZKY, and BUTLER follow.




SCENE XXI.

     COUNTESS, DUCHESS, MAX., and THEKLA.

  COUNTESS (to the DUCHESS).
  Let them but see him—there is hope still, sister.

  DUCHESS.
  Hope! I have none!

  MAX. (who during the last scene has been standing at a distance, in a
  visible struggle of feelings advances).
             This can I not endure.
  With most determined soul did I come hither;
  My purposed action seemed unblamable
  To my own conscience—and I must stand here
  Like one abhorred, a hard, inhuman being:
  Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love!
  Must see all whom I love in this sore anguish,
  Whom I with one word can make happy—O!
  My heart revolts within me, and two voices
  Make themselves audible within my bosom.
  My soul's benighted; I no longer can
  Distinguish the right track. Oh, well and truly
  Didst thou say, father, I relied too much
  On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro—
  I know not what to do.

  COUNTESS.
              What! you know not?
  Does not your own heart tell you? Oh! then I
  Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor,
  A frightful traitor to us—he has plotted
  Against our general's life, has plunged us all
  In misery—and you're his son! 'Tis yours
  To make the amends. Make you the son's fidelity
  Outweigh the father's treason, that the name
  Of Piccolomini be not a proverb
  Of infamy, a common form of cursing
  To the posterity of Wallenstein.

  MAX.
  Where is that voice of truth which I dare follow!
  It speaks no longer in my heart. We all
  But utter what our passionate wishes dictate:
  Oh that an angel would descend from heaven,
  And scoop for me the right, the uncorrupted,
  With a pure hand from the pure Fount of light.
     [His eyes glance on THEKLA.
  What other angel seek I? To this heart,
  To this unerring heart, will I submit it;
  Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless
  The happy man alone, averted ever
  From the disquieted and guilty—canst thou
  Still love me, if I stay? Say that thou canst,
  And I am the duke's——

  COUNTESS.
           Think, niece——

  MAX.
                   Think nothing, Thekla!
  Speak what thou feelest.

  COUNTESS.
               Think upon your father.

  MAX.
  I did not question thee, as Friedland's daughter.
  Thee, the beloved and the unerring God
  Within thy heart, I question. What's at stake?
  Not whether diadem of royalty
  Be to be won or not—that mightest thou think on.
  Thy friend, and his soul's quiet are at stake:
  The fortune of a thousand gallant men,
  Who will all follow me; shall I forswear
  My oath and duty to the emperor?
  Say, shall I send into Octavio's camp
  The parricidal ball? For when the ball
  Has left its cannon, and is on its flight,
  It is no longer a dead instrument!
  It lives, a spirit passes into it;
  The avenging furies seize possession of it,
  And with sure malice, guide it the worst way.

  THEKLA.
  Oh! Max.——

  MAX. (interrupting her).
        Nay, not precipitately either, Thekla.
  I understand thee. To thy noble heart
  The hardest duty might appear the highest.
  The human, not the great part, would I act.
  Even from my childhood to this present hour,
  Think what the duke has done for me, how loved me
  And think, too, how my father has repaid him.
  Oh likewise the free lovely impulses
  Of hospitality, the pious friend's
  Faithful attachment, these, too, are a holy
  Religion to the heart; and heavily
  The shudderings of nature do avenge
  Themselves on the barbarian that insults them.
  Lay all upon the balance, all—then speak,
  And let thy heart decide it.

  THEKLA.
                 Oh, thy own
  Hath long ago decided. Follow thou
  Thy heart's first feeling——

  COUNTESS.
                 Oh! ill-fated woman!

  THEKLA.
  Is it possible, that that can be the right,
  The which thy tender heart did not at first
  Detect and seize with instant impulse? Go,
  Fulfil thy duty! I should ever love thee.
  Whate'er thou hast chosen, thou wouldst still have acted
  Nobly and worthy of thee—but repentance
  Shall ne'er disturb thy soul's fair peace.

  MAX.
                        Then I
  Must leave thee, must part from thee!

  THEKLA.
                      Being faithful
  To thine own self, thou art faithful, too, to me:
  If our fates part, our hearts remain united.
  A bloody hatred will divide forever
  The houses Piccolomini and Friedland;
  But we belong not to our houses. Go!
  Quick! quick! and separate thy righteous cause
  From our unholy and unblessed one!
  The curse of heaven lies upon our head:
  'Tis dedicate to ruin. Even me
  My father's guilt drags with it to perdition.
  Mourn not for me:
  My destiny will quickly be decided.

     [MAX. clasps her in his arms in extreme emotion. There is heard
     from behind the scene a loud, wild, long-continued cry, Vivat
     Ferdinandus! accompanied by warlike instruments. MAX. and THEKLA
     remain without motion in each other's embraces.




SCENE XXII.

     To the above enter TERZKY.

  COUNTESS (meeting him).
  What meant that cry? What was it?

  TERZKY.
                    All is lost!

  COUNTESS.
  What! they regarded not his countenance?

  TERZKY.
  'Twas all in vain.

  DUCHESS.
            They shouted Vivat!

  TERZKY.
                       To the emperor.

  COUNTESS.
  The traitors?

  TERZKY.
          Nay! he was not permitted
  Even to address them. Soon as he began,
  With deafening noise of warlike instruments
  They drowned his words. But here he comes.




SCENE XXIII.

     To these enter WALLENSTEIN, accompanied by ILLO and BUTLER.

  WALLENSTEIN (as he enters).
  Terzky!

  TERZKY.
       My general!

  WALLENSTEIN.
             Let our regiments hold themselves
  In readiness to march; for we shall leave
  Pilsen ere evening.
                 [Exit TERZKY.
             Butler!

  BUTLER.
                 Yes, my general.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  The Governor of Egra is your friend
  And countryman. Write him instantly
  By a post courier. He must be advised,
  That we are with him early on the morrow.
  You follow us yourself, your regiment with you.

  BUTLER.
  It shall be done, my general!

  WALLENSTEIN (steps between MAX. and THEKLA, who have remained during this
  time in each other's arms).
                  Part!

  MAX.
                     O God!

     [CUIRASSIERS enter with drawn swords, and assemble in the
     background. At the same time there are heard from below some
     spirited passages out of the Pappenheim March, which seem to
     address MAX.

  WALLENSTEIN (to the CUIRASSIERS).
  Here he is, he is at liberty: I keep him
  No longer.

     [He turns away, and stands so that MAX. cannot pass by him
     nor approach the PRINCESS.

  MAX.
  Thou know'st that I have not yet learnt to live
  Without thee! I go forth into a desert,
  Leaving my all behind me. Oh, do not turn
  Thine eyes away from me! Oh, once more show me
  Thy ever dear and honored countenance.

     [MAX. attempts to take his hand, but is repelled: he
     turns to the COUNTESS.

  Is there no eye that has a look of pity for me?

     [The COUNTESS turns away from him; he turns to the DUCHESS.

  My mother!

  DUCHESS.

        Go where duty calls you. Haply
  The time may come when you may prove to us
  A true friend, a good angel at the throne
  Of the emperor.

  MAX.
           You give me hope; you would not
  Suffer me wholly to despair. No! no!
  Mine is a certain misery. Thanks to heaven!
  That offers me a means of ending it.

     [The military music begins again. The stage fills more and more
     with armed men. MAX. sees BUTLER and addresses him.

  And you here, Colonel Butler—and will you
  Not follow me? Well, then, remain more faithful
  To your new lord, than you have proved yourself
  To the emperor. Come, Butler! promise me.
  Give me your hand upon it, that you'll be
  The guardian of his life, its shield, its watchman.
  He is attainted, and his princely head
  Fair booty for each slave that trades in murder.
  Now he doth need the faithful eye of friendship,
  And those whom here I see——

     [Casting suspicious looks on ILLO and BUTLER.

  ILLO.
                 Go—seek for traitors
  In Gallas', in your father's quarters. Here
  Is only one. Away! away! and free us
  From his detested sight! Away!

     [MAX. attempts once more to approach THERLA. WALLENSTEIN prevents
     him. MAX. stands irresolute, and in apparent anguish, In the
     meantime the stage fills more and more; and the horns sound from
     below louder and louder, and each time after a shorter interval.

  MAX.
  Blow, blow! Oh, were it but the Swedish trumpets,
  And all the naked swords, which I see here,
  Were plunged into my breast! What purpose you?
  You come to tear me from this place! Beware,
  Ye drive me not to desperation. Do it not!
  Ye may repent it!

     [The stage is entirely filled with armed men.

  Yet more! weight upon weight to drag me down
  Think what ye're doing. It is not well done
  To choose a man despairing for your leader;
  You tear me from my happiness. Well, then,
  I dedicate your souls to vengeance. Mark!
  For your own ruin you have chosen me
  Who goes with me must be prepared to perish.

     [He turns to the background; there ensues a sudden and violent
     movement among the CUIRASSIERS; they surround him, and carry him
     off in wild tumult. WALLENSTEIN remains immovable. THERLA sinks
     into her mother's arms. The curtain falls. The music becomes
     loud and overpowering, and passes into a complete war-march—the
     orchestra joins it—and continues during the interval between the
     third and fourth acts.




ACT IV.





SCENE I.

     The BURGOMASTER's house at Egra.

  BUTLER (just arrived).
  Here then he is by his destiny conducted.
  Here, Friedland! and no further! From Bohemia
  Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile,
  And here upon the borders of Bohemia
  Must sink.
        Thou hast forsworn the ancient colors,
  Blind man! yet trustest to thy ancient fortunes.
  Profaner of the altar and the hearth,
  Against thy emperor and fellow-citizens
  Thou meanest to wage the war. Friedland, beware—
  The evil spirit of revenge impels thee—
  Beware thou, that revenge destroy thee not!




SCENE II.

     BUTLER and GORDON.

  GORDON.
                    Is it you?
  How my heart sinks! The duke a fugitive traitor!
  His princely head attainted! Oh, my God!
  Tell me, general, I implore thee, tell me
  In full, of all these sad events at Pilsen.

  BUTLER.
  You have received the letter which I sent you
  By a post-courier?

  GORDON.
            Yes: and in obedience to it
  Opened the stronghold to him without scruple,
  For an imperial letter orders me
  To follow your commands implicitly.
  But yet forgive me! when even now I saw
  The duke himself, my scruples recommenced.
  For truly, not like an attainted man,
  Into this town did Friedland make his entrance;
  His wonted majesty beamed from his brow,
  And calm, as in the days when all was right,
  Did he receive from me the accounts of office.
  'Tis said, that fallen pride learns condescension.
  But sparing and with dignity the duke
  Weighed every syllable of approbation,
  As masters praise a servant who has done
  His duty and no more.

  BUTLER.
              'Tis all precisely
  As I related in my letter. Friedland
  Has sold the army to the enemy,
  And pledged himself to give up Prague and Egra.
  On this report the regiments all forsook him,
  The five excepted that belong to Terzky,
  And which have followed him, as thou hast seen.
  The sentence of attainder is passed on him,
  And every loyal subject is required
  To give him in to justice, dead or living.

  GORDON.
  A traitor to the emperor. Such a noble!
  Of such high talents! What is human greatness?
  I often said, this can't end happily.
  His might, his greatness, and this obscure power
  Are but a covered pitfall. The human being
  May not be trusted to self-government.
  The clear and written law, the deep-trod footmarks
  Of ancient custom, are all necessary
  To keep him in the road of faith and duty.
  The authority intrusted to this man
  Was unexampled and unnatural,
  It placed him on a level with his emperor,
  Till the proud soul unlearned submission. Woe is me!
  I mourn for him! for where he fell, I deem
  Might none stand firm. Alas! dear general,
  We in our lucky mediocrity
  Have ne'er experienced, cannot calculate,
  What dangerous wishes such a height may breed
  In the heart of such a man.

  BUTLER.
                 Spare your laments
  Till he need sympathy; for at this present
  He is still mighty, and still formidable.
  The Swedes advance to Egra by forced marches,
  And quickly will the junction be accomplished.
  This must not be! The duke must never leave
  This stronghold on free footing; for I have
  Pledged life and honor here to hold him prisoner,
  And your assistance 'tis on which I calculate.

  GORDON.
  O that I had not lived to see this day!
  From his hand I received this dignity,
  He did himself intrust this stronghold to me,
  Which I am now required to make his dungeon.
  We subalterns have no will of our own:
  The free, the mighty man alone may listen
  To the fair impulse of his human nature.
  Ah! we are but the poor tools of the law,
  Obedience the sole virtue we dare aim at!

  BUTLER.
  Nay! let it not afflict you, that your power
  Is circumscribed. Much liberty, much error!
  The narrow path of duty is securest.
  And all then have deserted him you say?
  He has built up the luck of many thousands
  For kingly was his spirit: his full hand
  Was ever open! Many a one from dust
     [With a sly glance on BUTLER.
  Hath he selected, from the very dust
  Hath raised him into dignity and honor.
  And yet no friend, not one friend hath he purchased,
  Whose heart beats true to him in the evil hour.

  BUTLER.
  Here's one, I see.

  GORDON.
            I have enjoyed from him
  No grace or favor. I could almost doubt,
  If ever in his greatness he once thought on
  An old friend of his youth. For still my office
  Kept me at distance from him; and when first
  He to this citadel appointed me,
  He was sincere and serious in his duty.
  I do not then abuse his confidence,
  If I preserve my fealty in that
  Which to my fealty was first delivered.

  BUTLER.
  Say, then, will you fulfil the attainder on him,
  And lend your aid to take him in arrest?

  GORDON (pauses, reflecting—then as in deep dejection).
  If it be so—if all be as you say—
  If he've betrayed the emperor, his master,
  Have sold the troops, have purposed to deliver
  The strongholds of the country to the enemy—
  Yea, truly!—there is no redemption for him!
  Yet it is hard, that me the lot should destine
  To be the instrument of his perdition;
  For we were pages at the court of Bergau
  At the same period; but I was the senior.

  BUTLER.
  I have heard so——

  GORDON.
            'Tis full thirty years since then,
  A youth who scarce had seen his twentieth year
  Was Wallenstein, when he and I were friends
  Yet even then he had a daring soul:
  His frame of mind was serious and severe
  Beyond his years: his dreams were of great objects
  He walked amidst us of a silent spirit,
  Communing with himself; yet I have known him
  Transported on a sudden into utterance
  Of strange conceptions; kindling into splendor
  His soul revealed itself, and he spake so
  That we looked round perplexed upon each other,
  Not knowing whether it were craziness,
  Or whether it were a god that spoke in him.

  BUTLER.
  But was it where he fell two story high
  From a window-ledge, on which he had fallen asleep
  And rose up free from injury? From this day
  (It is reported) he betrayed clear marks
  Of a distempered fancy.

  GORDON.
               He became
  Doubtless more self-enwrapped and melancholy;
  He made himself a Catholic. 7 Marvellously
  His marvellous preservation had transformed him.
  Thenceforth he held himself for an exempted
  And privileged being, and, as if he were
  Incapable of dizziness or fall,
  He ran along the unsteady rope of life.
  But now our destinies drove us asunder;
  He paced with rapid step the way of greatness,
  Was count, and prince, duke-regent, and dictator,
  And now is all, all this too little for him;
  He stretches forth his hands for a king's crown,
  And plunges in unfathomable ruin.

  BUTLER.
  No more, he comes.




SCENE III.

     To these enter WALLENSTEIN, in conversation with the
     BURGOMASTER of Egra.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  You were at one time a free town. I see
  Ye bear the half eagle in your city arms.
  Why the half eagle only?

  BURGOMASTER.
               We were free,
  But for these last two hundred years has Egra
  Remained in pledge to the Bohemian crown;
  Therefore we bear the half eagle, the other half
  Being cancelled till the empire ransom us,
  If ever that should be.

  WALLENSTEIN.
               Ye merit freedom.
  Only be firm and dauntless. Lend your ears
  To no designing whispering court-minions.
  What may your imposts be?

  BURGOMASTER.
                So heavy that
  We totter under them. The garrison
  Lives at our costs.

  WALLENSTEIN.
             I will relieve you. Tell me,
  There are some Protestants among you still?
     [The BURGOMASTER hesitates.
  Yes, yes; I know it. Many lie concealed
  Within these walls. Confess now, you yourself——
     [Fixes, his eye on him. The BURGOMASTER alarmed.
  Be not alarmed. I hate the Jesuits.
  Could my will have determined it they had
  Been long ago expelled the empire. Trust me—
  Mass-book or Bible, 'tis all one to me.
  Of that the world has had sufficient proof.
  I built a church for the Reformed in Glogau
  At my own instance. Hark ye, burgomaster!
  What is your name?

  BURGOMASTER.
            Pachhalbel, may it please you.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Hark ye! But let it go no further, what I now
  Disclose to you in confidence.
     [Laying his hand on the BURGOMASTER'S shoulder with a certain
     solemnity.
                  The times
  Draw near to their fulfilment, burgomaster!
  The high will fall, the low will be exalted.
  Hark ye! But keep it to yourself! The end
  Approaches of the Spanish double monarchy—
  A new arrangement is at hand. You saw
  The three moons that appeared at once in the heaven?

  BURGOMASTER.
  With wonder and affright!

  WALLENSTEIN.
                Whereof did two
  Strangely transform themselves to bloody daggers,
  And only one, the middle moon, remained
  Steady and clear.

  BURGOMASTER.
            We applied it to the Turks.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  The Turks! That all? I tell you that two empires
  Will set in blood, in the East and in the West,
  And Lutherism alone remain.
     [Observing GORDON and BUTLER.
                 I'faith,
  'Twas a smart cannonading that we heard
  This evening, as we journeyed hitherward:
  'Twas on our left hand. Did ye hear it here?

  GORDON.
  Distinctly. The wind brought it from the south.

  BUTLER.
  It seemed to come from Weiden or from Neustadt.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  'Tis likely. That's the route the Swedes are taking.
  How strong is the garrison?

  GORDON.
                 Not quite two hundred
  Competent men, the rest are invalids.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Good! And how many in the vale of Jochim?

  GORDON.
  Two hundred arquebusiers have I sent thither
  To fortify the posts against the Swedes.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Good! I commend your foresight. At the works too
  You have done somewhat?

  GORDON.
               Two additional batteries
  I caused to be run up. They were needless;
  The Rhinegrave presses hard upon us, general!

  WALLENSTEIN.
  You have been watchful in your emperor's service.
  I am content with you, lieutenant-colonel.
     [To BUTLER.
  Release the outposts in the vale of Jochim,
  With all the stations in the enemy's route.
     [To GORDON.
  Governor, in your faithful hands I leave
  My wife, my daughter, and my sister. I
  Shall make no stay here, and wait but the arrival
  Of letters to take leave of you, together
  With all the regiments.




SCENE IV.

     To these enter COUNT TERZKY.

  TERZKY.
  Joy, general, joy! I bring you welcome tidings.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  And what may they be?

  TERZKY.
              There has been an engagement
  At Neustadt; the Swedes gained the victory.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  From whence did you receive the intelligence?

  TERZKY.
  A countryman from Tirschenreut conveyed it.
  Soon after sunrise did the fight begin
  A troop of the imperialists from Tachau
  Had forced their way into the Swedish camp;
  The cannonade continued full two hours;
  There were left dead upon the field a thousand
  Imperialists, together with their colonel;
  Further than this he did not know.

  WALLENSTEIN.
                    How came
  Imperial troops at Neustadt? Altringer,
  But yesterday, stood sixty miles from there.
  Count Gallas' force collects at Frauenberg,
  And have not the full complement. Is it possible
  That Suys perchance had ventured so far onward?
  It cannot be.

  TERZKY.
          We shall soon know the whole,
  For here comes Illo, full of haste, and joyous.




SCENE V.

     To these enter ILLO.

  ILLO (to WALLENSTEIN).
  A courier, duke! he wishes to speak with thee.

  TERZKY (eagerly).
  Does he bring confirmation of the victory?

  WALLENSTEIN (at the same time).
  What does he bring? Whence comes he?

  ILLO.
                      From the Rhinegrave,
  And what he brings I can announce to you
  Beforehand. Seven leagues distant are the Swedes;
  At Neustadt did Max. Piccolomini
  Throw himself on them with the cavalry;
  A murderous fight took place! o'erpowered by numbers
  The Pappenheimers all, with Max. their leader,
     [WALLENSTEIN shudders and turns pale.
  Were left dead on the field.

  WALLENSTEIN (after a pause, in a low voice).
  Where is the messenger? Conduct me to him.

     [WALLENSTEIN is going, when LADY NEUBRUNN rushes into the room.
     Some servants follow her and run across the stage.

  NEUBRUNN.
  Help! Help!

  ILLO and TERZKY (at the same time).
         What now?

  NEUBRUNN.
               The princess!

  WALLENSTEIN and TERZKY.
                      Does she know it?

  NEUBRUNN (at the same time with them).
  She is dying!

     [Hurries off the stage, when WALLENSTEIN and TERZKY follow her.




SCENE VI.

     BUTLER and GORDON.

  GORDON.
  What's this?

  BUTLER.
  She has lost the man she loved—
  Young Piccolomini, who fell in the battle.

  GORDON.
  Unfortunate lady!

  BUTLER.
            You have heard what Illo
  Reporteth, that the Swedes are conquerers,
  And marching hitherward.

  GORDON.
               Too well I heard it.

  BUTLER.
  They are twelve regiments strong, and there are five
  Close by us to protect the duke. We have
  Only my single regiment; and the garrison
  Is not two hundred strong.

  GORDON.
                'Tis even so.

  BUTLER.
  It is not possible with such small force
  To hold in custody a man like him.

  GORDON.
  I grant it.

  BUTLER.
         Soon the numbers would disarm us,
  And liberate him.

  GORDON.
            It were to be feared.

  BUTLER (after a pause).
  Know, I am warranty for the event;
  With my head have I pledged myself for his,
  Must make my word good, cost it what it will,
  And if alive we cannot hold him prisoner,
  Why—death makes all things certain!

  GORDON.
                     Sutler! What?
  Do I understand you? Gracious God! You could——

  BUTLER.
  He must not live.

  GORDON.
            And you can do the deed?

  BUTLER.
  Either you or I. This morning was his last.

  GORDON.
  You would assassinate him?

  BUTLER.
                'Tis my purpose.

  GORDON.
  Who leans with his whole confidence upon you!

  BUTLER.
  Such is his evil destiny!

  GORDON.
                Your general!
  The sacred person of your general!

  BUTLER.
  My general he has been.

  GORDON.
               That 'tis only
  An "has been" washes out no villany,
  And without judgment passed.

  BUTLER.
                 The execution
  Is here instead of judgment.

  GORDON.
                 This were murder,
  Not justice. The most guilty should be heard.

  BUTLER.
  His guilt is clear, the emperor has passed judgment,
  And we but execute his will.

  GORDON.
                 We should not
  Hurry to realize a bloody sentence.
  A word may be recalled, a life never can be.

  BUTLER.
  Despatch in service pleases sovereigns.

  GORDON.
  No honest man's ambitious to press forward
  To the hangman's service.

  BUTLER.
                And no brave man loses
  His color at a daring enterprise.

  GORDON.
  A brave man hazards life, but not his conscience.

  BUTLER.
  What then? Shall he go forth anew to kindle
  The unextinguishable flame of war?

  GORDON.
  Seize him, and hold him prisoner—do not kill him.

  BUTLER.
  Had not the emperor's army been defeated
  I might have done so. But 'tis now passed by.

  GORDON.
  Oh, wherefore opened I the stronghold to him?

  BUTLER.
  His destiny, and not the place destroys him.

  GORDON.
  Upon these ramparts, as beseemed a soldier—
  I had fallen, defending the emperor's citadel!

  BUTLER.
  Yes! and a thousand gallant men have perished!

  GORDON.
  Doing their duty—that adorns the man!
  But murder's a black deed, and nature curses it.

  BUTLER (brings out a paper).
  Here is the manifesto which commands us
  To gain possession of his person. See—
  It is addressed to you as well as me.
  Are you content to take the consequences,
  If through our fault he escape to the enemy?

  GORDON.
  I? Gracious God!

  BUTLER.
            Take it on yourself.
  Come of it what may, on you I lay it.

  GORDON.
  Oh, God in heaven!

  BUTLER.
            Can you advise aught else
  Wherewith to execute the emperor's purpose?
  Say if you can. For I desire his fall,
  Not his destruction.

  GORDON.
             Merciful heaven! what must be
  I see as clear as you. Yet still the heart
  Within my bosom beats with other feelings!

  BUTLER.
  Mine is of harder stuff! Necessity
  In her rough school hath steeled me. And this Illo,
  And Terzky likewise, they must not survive him.

  GORDON.
  I feel no pang for these. Their own bad hearts
  Impelled them, not the influence of the stars.
  'Twas they who strewed the seeds of evil passions
  In his calm breast, and with officious villany
  Watered and nursed the poisonous plants. May they
  Receive their earnests to the uttermost mite!

  BUTLER.
  And their death shall precede his!
  We meant to have taken them alive this evening
  Amid the merrymaking of a feast,
  And keep them prisoners in the citadel,
  But this makes shorter work. I go this instant
  To give the necessary orders.