SCENE X.

Soldiers dragging in the peasant, bound.

FIRST YAGER.
He must hang!

SHARPSHOOTERS and DRAGOONS.
       To the provost, come on!

SERGEANT.
'Tis the latest order that forth has gone.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
In an hour I hope to behold him swinging!

SERGEANT.
Bad work bad wages will needs be bringing.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (to the others).
This comes of their desperation. We
First ruin them out and out, d'ye see;
Which tempts them to steal, as it seems to me.

TRUMPETER.
How now! the rascal's cause would you plead?
The cur! the devil is in you indeed!

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
The boor is a man—as a body may say.

FIRST YAGER (to the Trumpeter).
Let 'em go! they're of Tiefenbach's corps, the railers,
A glorious train of glovers and tailors!
At Brieg, in garrison, long they lay;
What should they know about camps, I pray?

SCENE XI.

The above.—Cuirassiers.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Peace! what's amiss with the boor, may I crave?

FIRST SHARPSHOOTER.
He has cheated at play, the cozening knave!

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
But say, has he cheated you, man, of aught?

FIRST SHARPHOOTER.
Just cleaned me out—and not left me a groat.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
And can you, who've the rank of a Friedland man,
So shamefully cast yourself away,
As to try your luck with the boor at play?
Let him run off, so that run he can.

[The peasant escapes, the others throng together.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
He makes short work—is of resolute mood—
And that with such fellows as these is good.
Who is he? not of Bohemia, that's clear.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
He's a Walloon—and respect, I trow,
Is due to the Pappenheim cuirassier!

FIRST DRAGOON (joining).
Young Piccolomini leads them now,
Whom they chose as colonel, of their own free might,
When Pappenheim fell in Luetzen's fight.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
Durst they, indeed, presume so far?

FIRST DRAGOON.
This regiment is something above the rest.
It has ever been foremost through the war,
And may manage its laws, as it pleases best;
Besides, 'tis by Friedland himself caressed.

FIRST CUIRASSIER (to the Second.)
Is't so in truth, man? Who averred it?

SECOND CUIRASSIER.
From the lips of the colonel himself I heard it.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
The devil! we're not their dogs, I weep!

FIRST YAGER.
How now, what's wrong? You're swollen with spleen!

SECOND YAGER.
Is it anything, comrades, may us concern?

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
'Tis what none need be wondrous glad to learn.

The Soldiers press round him.

To the Netherlands they would lend us now—
Cuirassiers, Yagers, and Shooters away,
Eight thousand in all must march, they say.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
What! What! again the old wandering way—
I got back from Flanders but yesterday!

SECOND CUIRASSIER (to the Dragoons).
You of Butler's corps must tramp with the rest.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
And we, the Walloons, must doubtless be gone.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
Why, of all our squadrons these are the best.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
To march where that Milanese fellow leads on.

FIRST YAGER.
The infant? that's queer enough in its way.

SECOND YAGER.
The priest—then, egad! there's the devil to pay.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Shall we then leave the Friedlander's train,
Who so nobly his soldiers doth entertain—
And drag to the field with this fellow from Spain!
A niggard whom we in our souls disdain!
That'll never go down—I'm off, I swear.

TRUMPETER.
Why, what the devil should we do there?
We sold our blood to the emperor—ne'er
For this Spanish red hat a drop we'll spare!

SECOND YAGER.
On the Friedlander's word and credit alone
We ranged ourselves in the trooper line,
And, but for our love to Wallenstein,
Ferdinand ne'er had our service known.

FIRST DRAGOON.
Was it not Friedland that formed our force?
His fortune shall still be the star of our course.

SERGEANT.
Silence, good comrades, to me give ear—
Talking does little to help us here.
Much farther in this I can see than you all,
And a trap has been laid in which we're to fall;

FIRST YAGER.
List to the order-book! hush—be still!

SERGEANT.
But first, Cousin Gustel, I pray thee fill
A glass of Melneck, as my stomach's but weak
When I've tossed it off, my mind I'll speak.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
Take it, good sergeant. I quake for fear—
Think you that mischief is hidden here?

SERGEANT.
Look ye, my friends, 'tis fit and clear
That each should consider what's most near.
But as the general says, say I,
One should always the whole of a case descry.
We call ourselves all the Friedlander's troops;
The burgher, on whom we're billeted, stoops
Our wants to supply, and cooks our soups.
His ox, or his horse, the peasant must chain
To our baggage-car, and may grumble in vain.
Just let a lance-corp'ral, with seven good men,
Tow'rd a village from far but come within ken,
You're sure he'll be prince of the place, and may
Cut what capers he will, with unquestioned sway.
Why, zounds! lads, they heartily hate us all—
And would rather the devil should give them a call,
Than our yellow collars. And why don't they fall
On us fairly at once and get rid of our lumber?
They're more than our match in point of number,
And carry the cudgel as we do the sword.
Why can we laugh them to scorn? By my word
Because we make up here a terrible horde.

FIRST YAGER.
Ay, ay, in the mass lies the spell of our might,
And the Friedlander judged the matter aright,
When, some eight or nine years ago, he brought
The emperor's army together. They thought
Twelve thousand enough for the general. In vain,
Said he, such a force I can never maintain.
Sixty thousand I'll bring ye into the plain,
And they, I'll be sworn, won't of hunger die,
And thus were we Wallenstein's men, say I.

SERGEANT.
For example, cut one of my fingers off,
This little one here from my right hand doff.
Is the taking my finger then all you've done?
No, no, to the devil my hand is gone!
'Tis a stump—no more—and use has none.
The eight thousand horse they wish to disband
May be but a finger of our army's hand.
But when they're once gone may we understand
We are but one-fifth the less? Oh, no—
By the Lord, the whole to the devil will go!
All terror, respect, and awe will be over,
And the peasant will swell his crest once more;
And the Board of Vienna will order us where
Our troops must be quartered and how we must fare,
As of old in the days of their beggarly care.
Yes, and how long it will be who can say
Ere the general himself they may take away?
For they don't much like him at court I learn?
And then it's all up with the whole concern!
For who, to our pay, will be left to aid us?
And see that they keep the promise they made us?
Who has the energy—who the mind—
The flashing thought—and the fearless hand—
Together to bring, and thus fastly bind
The fragments that form our close-knit band.
For example, dragoon—just answer us now,
From which of the countries of earth art thou?

DRAGOON.
From distant Erin came I here.

SERGEANT (to the two Cuirassiers).
You're a Walloon, my friend, that's clear,
And you, an Italian, as all may hear.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Who I may be, faith! I never could say;
In my infant years they stole me away.

SERGEANT.
And you, from what far land may you be?

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
I come from Buchau—on the Feder Sea.

SERGEANT.
Neighbor, and you?

SECOND ARQUEBUSIER.
          I am a Swiss.

SERGEANT (to the second Yager).
And Yager, let's hear where your country is?

SECOND YAGER.
Up above Wismar my fathers dwell.

SERGEANT (pointing to the Trumpeter).
And he's from Eger—and I as well:
And now, my comrades, I ask you whether,
Would any one think, when looking at us,
That we, from the North and South, had thus
Been hitherward drifted and blown together?
Do we not seem as hewn from one mass?
Stand we not close against the foe
As though we were glued or moulded so?
Like mill-work don't we move, d'ye think!
'Mong ourselves in the nick, at a word or wink.
Who has thus cast us here all as one,
Now to be severed again by none?
Who? why, no other than Wallenstein!

FIRST YAGER.
In my life it ne'er was a thought of mine
Whether we suited each other or not,
I let myself go with the rest of the lot.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
I quite agree in the sergeant's opinion—
They'd fain have an end of our camp dominion,
And trample the soldier down, that they
May govern alone in their own good way.
'Tis a conspiration—a plot, I say!

SUTLER-WOMAN.
A conspiration—God help the day!
Then my customers won't have cash to pay.

SERGEANT.
Why, faith, we shall all be bankrupts made;
The captains and generals, most of them, paid
The costs of the regiments with private cash,
And, wishing, 'bove all, to cut a dash,
Went a little beyond their means—but thought,
No doubt, that they thus had a bargain bought.
Now they'll be cheated, sirs, one and all,
Should our chief, our head, the general fall.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
Oh, Heaven! this curse I never can brook
Why, half of the army stand in my book.
Two hundred dollars I've trusted madly
That Count Isolani who pays so badly.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Well, comrades, let's fix on what's to be done—
Of the ways to save us, I see but one;
If we hold together we need not fear;
So let us stand out as one man here;
And then they may order and send as they will,
Fast planted we'll stick in Bohemia still.
We'll never give in—no, nor march an inch,
We stand on our honor, and must not flinch.

SECOND YAGER.
We're not to be driven the country about,
Let 'em come here, and they'll find it out.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
Good sirs, 'twere well to bethink ye still,
That such is the emperor's sovereign will.

TRUMPETER.
Oh, as to the emperor, we needn't be nice.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
Let me not hear you say so twice.

TRUMPETER.
Why, 'tis even so—as I just have said.

FIRST YAGER.
True, man—I've always heard 'em say,
'Tis Friedland, alone, you've here to obey.

SERGEANT.
By our bargain with him it should be so,
Absolute power is his, you must know,
We've war, or peace, but as he may please,
Or gold or goods he has power to seize,
And hanging or pardon his will decrees.
Captains and colonels he makes—and he,
In short, by the imperial seal is free,
To hold all the marks of sovereignty.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
The duke is high and of mighty will,
But yet must remain, for good or for ill,
Like us all, but the emperor's servant still.

SERGEANT.
Not like us all—I there disagree—
Friedland is quite independent and free,
The Bavarian is no more a prince than he
For, was I not by myself to see,
When on duty at Brandeis, how the emperor said,
He wished him to cover his princely head.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
That was because of the Mecklenburgh land,
Which he held in pawn from the emperor's hand.

FIRST YAGER (to the Sergeant).
In the emperor's presence, man! say you so?
That, beyond doubt, was a wonderful go!

SERGEANT (feels in his pocket).
If you question my word in what I have told,
I can give you something to grasp and hold.
              [Showing a coin.
Whose image and stamp d'ye here behold?

SUTLER-WOMAN.
Oh! that is a Wallenstein's, sure!

SERGEANT-MAJOR.
Well, there, you have it—what doubt can rest
Is he not prince, just as good as the best?
Coins he not money like Ferdinand?
Hath he not his own subjects and land?
Is he not called your highness, I pray?
And why should he not have his soldiers in?

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
That no one has ever meant to gainsay;
But we're still at the emperor's beck and call,
For his majesty 'tis who pays us all.

TRUMPETER.
In your teeth I deny it—and will again—
His majesty 'tis who pays us not,
For this forty weeks, say, what have we got
But a promise to pay, believed in vain?

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
What then! 'tis kept in safe hands, I suppose.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Peace, good sirs, will you come to blows?
Have you a quarrel and squabble to know
If the emperor be our master or no?
'Tis because of our rank, as his soldiers brave,
That we scorn the lot of the herded slave;
And will not be driven from place to place,
As priest or puppies our path may trace.
And, tell me, is't not the sovereign's gain,
If the soldiers their dignity will maintain?
Who but his soldiers give him the state
Of a mighty, wide-ruling potentate?
Make and preserve for him, far and near,
The voice which Christendom quakes to hear?
Well enough they may his yoke-chain bear,
Who feast on his favors, and daily share,
In golden chambers, his sumptuous fare.
We—we of his splendors have no part,
Naught but hard wearying toil and care,
And the pride that lives in a soldier's heart.

SECOND YAGER.
All great tyrants and kings have shown
Their wit, as I take it, in what they've done;
They've trampled all others with stern command,
But the soldier they've led with a gentle hand.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
The soldier his worth must understand;
Whoe'er doesn't nobly drive the trade,
'Twere best from the business far he'd stayed.
If I cheerily set my life on a throw,
Something still better than life I'll know;
Or I'll stand to be slain for the paltry pelf,
As the Croat still does—and scorn myself.

BOTH PAGERS.
Yes—honor is dearer than life itself.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
The sword is no plough, nor delving tool,
He, who would till with it, is but a fool.
For us, neither grass nor grain doth grow,
Houseless the soldier is doomed to go,
A changeful wanderer over the earth,
Ne'er knowing the warmth of a home-lit hearth.
The city glances—he halts—not there—
Nor in village meadows, so green and fair;
The vintage and harvest wreath are twined
He sees, but must leave them far behind.
Then, tell me, what hath the soldier left,
If he's once of his self-esteem bereft?
Something he must have his own to call,
Or on slaughter and burnings at once he'll fall.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
God knows, 'tis a wretched life to live!

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Yet one, which I, for no other would give,
Look ye—far round in the world I've been,
And all of its different service seen.
The Venetian Republic—the Kings of Spain
And Naples I've served, and served in vain.
Fortune still frowned—and merchant and knight,
Craftsmen and Jesuit, have met my sight;
Yet, of all their jackets, not one have I known
To please me like this steel coat of my own.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
Well—that now is what I can scarcely say.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
In the world, a man who would make his way,
Must plague and bestir himself night and day.
To honor and place if he choose the road,
He must bend his back to the golden load.
And if home-delights should his fancy please,
With children and grandchildren round his knees,
Let him follow an honest trade in peace.
I've no taste for this kind of life—not I!
Free will I live, and as freely die.
No man's spoiler nor heir will I be—
But, throned on my nag, I will smile to see
The coil of the crowd that is under me.

FIRST YAGER.
Bravo!—that's as I've always done.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
In truth, sirs, it may be far better fun
To trample thus over your neighbor's crown.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Comrade, the times are bad of late—
The sword and the scales live separate.
But do not then blame that I've preferred,
Of the two, to lean, as I have, to the sword.
For mercy in war I will yield to none,
Though I never will stoop to be drummed upon.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
Who but the soldier the blame should bear
That the laboring poor so hardly fare?
The war with its plagues, which all have blasted
Now sixteen years in the land hath lasted.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Why, brother, the blessed God above
Can't have from us all an equal love.
One prays for the sun, at which t'other will fret
One is for dry weather-t'other for wet.
What you, now, regard as with misery rife,
Is to me the unclouded sun of life.
If 'tis at the cost of the burgher and boor,
I really am sorry that they must endure;
But how can I help it? Here, you must know,
'Tis just like a cavalry charge 'gainst the foe:
The steeds loud snorting, and on they go!
Whoever may lie in the mid-career—
Be it my brother or son so dear,
Should his dying groan my heart divide,
Yet over his body I needs must ride,
Nor pitying stop to drag him aside.

FIRST YAGER.
True—who ever asks how another may bide?

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Thus, my lads, 'tis my counsel, while
On the soldier Dame Fortune deigns to smile,
That we with both hands her bounty clasp,
For it may not be much longer left to our grasp.
Peace will be coming some over-night,
And then there's an end of our martial might.
The soldier unhorsed, and fresh mounted to boor,
Ere you can think it 'twill be as before.
As yet we're together firm bound in the land,
The hilt is yet fast in the soldier's hand.
But let 'em divide us, and soon we shall find,
Short commons is all that remains behind.

FIRST YAGER.
No, no, by the Lord! That won't do for me.
Come, come, lads, let's all now, as one, agree.

SECOND YAGER.
Yes, let us resolve on what 'tis to be.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (To the Sutler-woman, drawing out his leather purse).
Hostess, tell us how high you've scored.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
Oh, 'tis unworthy a single word.

[They settle.

TRUMPETER.
You do well, sirs, to take a further walk,
Your company only disturbs our talk.

[Exeunt Arquebusiers.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Plague take the fellows—they're brave, I know.

FIRST YAGER.
They haven't a soul 'bove a soapboiler's, though.

SECOND YAGER.
We're now alone, so teach us who can
How best we may meet and mar their plan.

TRUMPETER.
How? Why, let's tell them we will not go!

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Despising all discipline! No, my lads, no,
Rather his corps let each of us seek,
And quietly then with his comrades speak,
That every soldier may clearly know,
It were not for his good so far to go;
For my Walloons to answer I'm free,
Every man of 'em thinks and acts with me.

SERGEANT.
The Terzky regiments, both horse and foot,
Will thus resolve, and will keep them to't.

SECOND CUIRASSIER (joining the first).
The Walloons and the Lombards one intent.

FIRST YAGER.
Freedom is Yagers' own element.

SECOND YAGER.
Freedom must ever with might entwine—
I live and will die by Wallenstein.

FIRST SHARPSHOOTER.
The Lorrainers go on with the strongest tide,
Where spirits are light and courage tried.

DRAGOON.
An Irishman follows his fortune's star.

SECOND SHARPSHOOTER.
The Tyrolese for their sovereign war.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Then, comrades, let each of our corps agree
A pro memoria to sign—that we,
In spite of all force or fraud, will be
To the fortunes of Friedland firmly bound,
For in him is the soldier's father found.
This we will humbly present, when done,
To Piccolomini—I mean the son—
Who understands these kind of affairs,
And the Friedlander's highest favor shares;
Besides, with the emperor's self, they say
He holds a capital card to play.

SECOND YAGER.
Well, then, in this, let us all agree,
That the colonel shall our spokesman be!

ALL (going).
Good! the colonel shall our spokesman be.

SERGEANT.
Hold, sirs—just toss off a glass with me
To the health of Piccolomini.

SUTLER-WOMAN (brings a flask).
This shall not go to the list of scores,
I gladly give it—success be yours!

CUIRASSIER.
The soldier shall sway!

BOTH YAGERS.
            The peasant shall pay

DRAGOONS and SHARPSHOOTERS.
The army shall flourishing stand!

TRUMPETER and SERGEANT.
And the Friedlander keep the command!

SECOND CUIRASSIER (sings).

   Arouse ye, my comrades, to horse! to horse!
    To the field and to freedom we guide!
   For there a man feels the pride of his force
    And there is the heart of him tried.
   No help to him there by another is shown,
   He stands for himself and himself alone.

[The soldiers from the background have come forward during the singing of this verse and form the chorus.

CHORUS.

   No help to him by another is shown,
   He stands for himself and himself alone.

DRAGOON.

   Now freedom hath fled from the world, we find
    But lords and their bondsmen vile
   And nothing holds sway in the breast of mankind
    Save falsehood and cowardly guile.
   Who looks in death's face with a fearless brow,
   The soldier, alone, is the freeman now.

CHORUS.

   Who looks in death's face with a fearless brow,
   The soldier, alone, is the freeman now.

FIRST YAGER.

   With the troubles of life he ne'er bothers his pate,
    And feels neither fear nor sorrow;
   But boldly rides onward to meet with his fate—
    He may meet it to-day, or to-morrow!
   And, if to-morrow 'twill come, then, I say,
   Drain we the cup of life's joy to-day!

CHORUS.

   And, if to-morrow 'twill come, then, I say,
   Drain we the cup of life's joy to-day!

[The glasses are here refilled, and all drink.

SERGEANT.

   'Tis from heaven his jovial lot has birth;
    Nor needs he to strive or toil.
   The peasant may grope in the bowels of earth,
    And for treasure may greedily moil
   He digs and he delves through life for the pelf,
   And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself.

CHORUS.

   He digs and he delves through life for the pelf,
   And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself.

FIRST YAGER.

   The rider and lightning steed—a pair
    Of terrible guests, I ween!
   From the bridal-hall, as the torches glare,
    Unbidden they join the scene;
   Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove;
   By storm he carries the prize of love!

CHORUS.

   Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove;
   By storm he carries the prize of love!

SECOND CUIRASSIER.

   Why mourns the wench with so sorrowful face?
    Away, girl, the soldier must go!
   No spot on the earth is his resting-place;
    And your true love he never can know.
   Still onward driven by fate's rude wind,
   He nowhere may leave his peace behind.

CHORUS.

   Still onward driven by fate's rude wind,
   He nowhere may leave his peace behind.

FIRST YAGER. He takes the two next to him by the hand—the others do the same—and form a large semi-circle.

   Then rouse ye, my comrades—to horse! to horse!
    In battle the breast doth swell!
   Youth boils—the life-cup foams in its force—
    Up! ere time can dew dispel!
   And deep be the stake, as the prize is high—
   Who life would win, he must dare to die!

CHORUS.

   And deep be the stake, as the prize is high—
   Who life would win, he must dare to die!

[The curtain falls before the chorus has finished.

THE PICCOLOMINI,

Translated by S. T. Coleridge.

"Upon the whole there can be no doubt that this trilogy forms, in its original tongue, one of the most splendid specimens of tragic art the world has witnessed; and none at all, that the execution of the version from which we have quoted so largely, places Mr. Coleridge in the very first rank of poetical translators. He is, perhaps, the solitary example of a man of very great original genius submitting to all the labors, and reaping all the honors of this species of literary exertion."—Blackwood, 1823.

PREFACE.

The two dramas,—PICCOLOMINI, or the first part of WALLENSTEIN, and the DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN, are introduced in the original manuscript by a prelude in one act, entitled WALLENSTEIN'S CAMP. This is written in rhyme, and in nine-syllable verse, in the same lilting metre (if that expression may be permitted), with the second Eclogue of Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar.

This prelude possesses a sort of broad humor, and is not deficient in character: but to have translated it into prose, or into any other metre than that of the original, would have given a false idea both of its style and purport; to have translated it into the same metre would have been incompatible with a faithful adherence to the sense of the German from the comparative poverty of our language in rhymes; and it would have been unadvisable, from the incongruity of those lax verses with the present taste of the English public. Schiller's intention seems to have been merely to have prepared his reader for the tragedies by a lively picture of laxity of discipline and the mutinous dispositions of Wallenstein's soldiery. It is not necessary as a preliminary explanation. For these reasons it has been thought expedient not to translate it.

The admirers of Schiller, who have abstracted their idea of that author from the Robbers, and the Cabal and Love, plays in which the main interest is produced by the excitement of curiosity, and in which the curiosity is excited by terrible and extraordinary incident, will not have perused without some portion of disappointment the dramas, which it has been my employment to translate. They should, however, reflect that these are historical dramas taken from a popular German history; that we must, therefore, judge of them in some measure with the feelings of Germans; or, by analogy, with the interest excited in us by similar dramas in our own language. Few, I trust, would be rash or ignorant enough to compare Schiller with Shakspeare; yet, merely as illustration, I would say that we should proceed to the perusal of Wallenstein, not from Lear or Othello, but from Richard II., or the three parts of Henry VI. We scarcely expect rapidity in an historical drama; and many prolix speeches are pardoned from characters whose names and actions have formed the most amusing tales of our early life. On the other hand, there exist in these plays more individual beauties, more passages whose excellence will bear reflection than in the former productions of Schiller. The description of the Astrological Tower, and the reflections of the Young Lover, which follow it, form in the original a fine poem; and my translation must have been wretched indeed if it can have wholly overclouded the beauties of the scene in the first act of the first play between Questenberg, Max, and Octavio Piccolomini. If we except the scene of the setting sun in the Robbers, I know of no part in Schiller's plays which equals the first scene of the fifth act of the concluding plays. [In this edition, scene iii., act v.] It would be unbecoming in me to be more diffuse on this subject. A translator stands connected with the original author by a certain law of subordination which makes it more decorous to point out excellences than defects; indeed, he is not likely to be a fair judge of either. The pleasure or disgust from his own labor will mingle with the feelings that arise from an afterview of the original. Even in the first perusal of a work in any foreign language which we understand, we are apt to attribute to it more excellence than it really possesses from our own pleasurable sense of difficulty overcome without effort. Translation of poetry into poetry is difficult, because the translator must give a brilliancy to his language without that warmth of original conception from which such brilliancy would follow of its own accord. But the translator of a living author is incumbered with additional inconveniences. If he render his original faithfully as to the sense of each passage, he must necessarily destroy a considerable portion of the spirit; if he endeavor to give a work executed according to laws of compensation he subjects himself to imputations of vanity or misrepresentation. I have thought it my duty to remain bound by the sense of my original with as few exceptions as the nature of the languages rendered possible. S. T. C.

THE PICCOLOMINI.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

WALLENSTEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the Imperial Forces
   in the Thirty Years' War.
OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, Lieutenant-General.
MAX. PICCOLOMINI, his Son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cuirassiers.
COUNT TERZKY, the Commander of several Regiments, and Brother-in-law
   of Wallenstein.
ILLO, Field-Marshal, Wallenstein's Confidant.
ISOLANI, General of the Croats.
BUTLER, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoons.
TIEFENBACH, |
DON MARADAS, | Generals under Wallenstein.
GOETZ, |
KOLATTO, |
NEUMANN, Captain of Cavalry, Aide-de-Camp to Terzky.
VON QUESTENBERG, the War Commissioner, Imperial Envoy.
BAPTISTA SENI, an Astrologer.
DUCHESS OF FRIEDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein.
THEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland.
THE COUNTESS TERZRY, Sister of the Duchess.
A CORNET.
COLONELS and GENERALS (several).
PAGES and ATTENDANTS belonging to Wallenstein.
ATTENDANTS and HOBOISTS belonging to Terzky.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR to Count Terzky.
VALET DE CHAMBRE of Count Piccolomini.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

An old Gothic Chamber in the Council-House at Pilsen, decorated with Colors and other War Insignia.

ILLO, with BUTLER and ISOLANI.

ILLO.
Ye have come too late-but ye are come! The distance,
Count Isolani, excuses your delay.

ISOLANI.
Add this too, that we come not empty-handed.
At Donauwerth [1] it was reported to us,
A Swedish caravan was on its way,
Transporting a rich cargo of provision,
Almost six hundreds wagons. This my Croats
Plunged down upon and seized, this weighty prize!—
We bring it hither——

ILLO.
           Just in time to banquet
The illustrious company assembled here.

BUTLER.
'Tis all alive! a stirring scene here!

ISOLANI.
                   Ay!
The very churches are full of soldiers.
          [Casts his eye round.
And in the council-house, too, I observe,
You're settled quite at home! Well, well! we soldiers
Must shift and suit us in what way we can.

ILLO.
We have the colonels here of thirty regiments.
You'll find Count Terzky here, and Tiefenbach,
Kolatto, Goetz, Maradas, Hinnersam,
The Piccolomini, both son and father—
You'll meet with many an unexpected greeting
From many an old friend and acquaintance. Only
Gallas is wanting still, and Altringer.

BUTLER.
Expect not Gallas.

ILLO (hesitating).
          How so? Do you know——

ISOLANI (interrupting him).
Max. Piccolomini here? O bring me to him.
I see him yet ('tis now ten years ago,
We were engaged with Mansfeldt hard by Dessau),
I see the youth, in my mind's eye I see him,
Leap his black war-horse from the bridge adown,
And t'ward his father, then in extreme peril,
Beat up against the strong tide of the Elbe.
The down was scarce upon his chin! I hear
He has made good the promise of his youth,
And the full hero now is finished in him.

ILLO.
You'll see him yet ere evening. He conducts
The Duchess Friedland hither, and the princess [2]
From Caernthen [3]. We expect them here at noon.

BUTLER.
Both wife and daughter does the duke call hither?
He crowds in visitants from all sides.

ISOLANI.
                   Hm!
So much the better! I had framed my mind
To hear of naught but warlike circumstance,
Of marches and attacks, and batteries;
And lo! the duke provides, and something too
Of gentler sort and lovely, should be present
To feast our eyes.

ILLO (who has been standing in the attitude of meditation, to BUTLER,
   whom he leads a little on one side).
          And how came you to know
That the Count Gallas joins us not?

BUTLER.
                  Because
He importuned me to remain behind.

ILLO (with warmth).
And you? You hold out firmly!
         [Grasping his hand with affection.
                Noble Butler!

BUTLER.
After the obligation which the duke
Had laid so newly on me——

ILLO.
              I had forgotten
A pleasant duty—major-general,
I wish you joy!

ISOLANI.
        What, you mean, of this regiment?
I hear, too, that to make the gift still sweeter,
The duke has given him the very same
In which he first saw service, and since then
Worked himself step by step, through each preferment,
From the ranks upwards. And verily, it gives
A precedent of hope, a spur of action
To the whole corps, if once in their remembrance
An old deserving soldier makes his way.

BUTLER.
I am perplexed and doubtful whether or no
I dare accept this your congratulation.
The emperor has not yet confirmed the appointment.

ISOLANI.
Seize it, friend, seize it! The hand which in that post
Placed you is strong enough to keep you there,
Spite of the emperor and his ministers!

ILLO.
Ay, if we would but so consider it!—
If we would all of us consider it so!
The emperor gives us nothing; from the duke
Comes all—whate'er we hope, whate'er we have.

ISOLANI (to ILLO).
My noble brother! did I tell you how
The duke will satisfy my creditors?
Will be himself my bankers for the future,
Make me once more a creditable man!
And this is now the third time, think of that!
This kingly-minded man has rescued me
From absolute ruin and restored my honor.

ILLO.
Oh that his power but kept pace with his wishes!
Why, friend! he'd give the whole world to his soldiers.
But at Vienna, brother!—here's the grievance,—
What politic schemes do they not lay to shorten
His arm, and where they can to clip his pinions.
Then these new dainty requisitions! these
Which this same Questenberg brings hither!

BUTLER.
                      Ay!
Those requisitions of the emperor—
I too have heard about them; but I hope
The duke will not draw back a single inch!

ILLO.
Not from his right most surely, unless first
From office!

BUTLER (shocked and confused).
       Know you aught then? You alarm me.

ISOLANI (at the same time with BUTLER, and in a hurrying voice).
We should be ruined, every one of us!

ILLO.
Yonder I see our worthy friend [spoken with a sneer] approaching
With the Lieutenant-General Piccolomini.

BUTLER (shaking his head significantly).
I fear we shall not go hence as we came.

SCENE II.

Enter OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI and QUESTENBERG.

OCTAVIO (still in the distance).
Ay! ah! more still! Still more new visitors!
Acknowledge, friend! that never was a camp,
Which held at once so many heads of heroes.

QUESTENBERG.
Let none approach a camp of Friedland's troops
Who dares to think unworthily of war;
E'en I myself had nigh forgot its evils
When I surveyed that lofty soul of order,
By which, while it destroys the world—itself
Maintains the greatness which itself created.

OCTAVIO (approaching nearer).
Welcome, Count Isolani!

ISOLANI.
            My noble brother!
Even now am I arrived; it has been else my duty——

OCTAVIO.
And Colonel Butler—trust me, I rejoice
Thus to renew acquaintance with a man
Whose worth and services I know and honor.
See, see, my friend!
There might we place at once before our eyes
The sum of war's whole trade and mystery—

   [To QUESTENBERG, presenting BUTLER and ISOLANI at the same time
   to him.

These two the total sum—strength and despatch.

QUESTENBERG (to OCTAVIO).
And lo! betwixt them both, experienced prudence!

OCTAVIO (presenting QUESTENBERG to BUTLER and ISOLANI).
The Chamberlain and War-Commissioner Questenberg.
The bearer of the emperor's behests,—
The long-tried friend and patron of all soldiers,
We honor in this noble visitor.
                 [Universal silence.

ILLO (moving towards QUESTENBERG).
'Tis not the first time, noble minister,
You've shown our camp this honor.

QUESTENBERG.
                 Once before
I stood beside these colors.

ILLO.
Perchance too you remember where that was;
It was at Znaeim [4] in Moravia, where
You did present yourself upon the part
Of the emperor to supplicate our duke
That he would straight assume the chief command.

QUESTENBURG.
To supplicate? Nay, bold general!
So far extended neither my commission
(At least to my own knowledge) nor my zeal.

ILLO.
Well, well, then—to compel him, if you choose,
I can remember me right well, Count Tilly
Had suffered total rout upon the Lech.
Bavaria lay all open to the enemy,
Whom there was nothing to delay from pressing
Onwards into the very heart of Austria.
At that time you and Werdenberg appeared
Before our general, storming him with prayers,
And menacing the emperor's displeasure,
Unless he took compassion on this wretchedness.

ISOLANI (steps up to them).
Yes, yes, 'tis comprehensible enough,
Wherefore with your commission of to-day,
You were not all too willing to remember
Your former one.

QUESTENBERG.

         Why not, Count Isolani?
No contradiction sure exists between them.
It was the urgent business of that time
To snatch Bavaria from her enemy's hand;
And my commission of to-day instructs me
To free her from her good friends and protectors.

ILLO.
A worthy office! After with our blood
We have wrested this Bohemia from the Saxon,
To be swept out of it is all our thanks,
The sole reward of all our hard-won victories.

QUESTENBERG.
Unless that wretched land be doomed to suffer
Only a change of evils, it must be
Freed from the scourge alike of friend or foe.

ILLO.
What? 'Twas a favorable year; the boors
Can answer fresh demands already.

QUESTENBERG.
                  Nay,
If you discourse of herds and meadow-grounds——

ISOLANI.
The war maintains the war. Are the boors ruined
The emperor gains so many more new soldiers.

QUESTENBERG.
And is the poorer by even so many subjects.

ISOLANI.
Poh! we are all his subjects.

QUESTENBERG.
Yet with a difference, general! The one fill
With profitable industry the purse,
The others are well skilled to empty it.
The sword has made the emperor poor; the plough
Must reinvigorate his resources.

ISOLANI.
                 Sure!
Times are not yet so bad. Methinks I see
   [Examining with his eye the dress and ornaments of QUESTENBERG.
Good store of gold that still remains uncoined.

QUESTENBERG.
Thank Heaven! that means have been found out to hide
Some little from the fingers of the Croats.

ILLO.
There! The Stawata and the Martinitz,
On whom the emperor heaps his gifts and graces,
To the heart-burning of all good Bohemians—
Those minions of court favor, those court harpies,
Who fatten on the wrecks of citizens
Driven from their house and home—who reap no harvests
Save in the general calamity—
Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mock
The desolation of their country—these,
Let these, and such as these, support the war,
The fatal war, which they alone enkindled!

BUTLER.
And those state-parasites, who have their feet
So constantly beneath the emperor's table,
Who cannot let a benefice fall, but they
Snap at it with dogs' hunger—they, forsooth,
Would pare the soldiers bread and cross his reckoning!

ISOLANI.
My life long will it anger me to think,
How when I went to court seven years ago,
To see about new horses for our regiment,
How from one antechamber to another
They dragged me on and left me by the hour
To kick my heels among a crowd of simpering
Feast-fattened slaves, as if I had come thither
A mendicant suitor for the crumbs of favor
That fell beneath their tables. And, at last,
Whom should they send me but a Capuchin!
Straight I began to muster up my sins
For absolution—but no such luck for me!
This was the man, this Capuchin, with whom
I was to treat concerning the army horses!
And I was forced at last to quit the field,
The business unaccomplished. Afterwards
The duke procured me in three days what I
Could not obtain in thirty at Vienna.

QUESTENBERG.
Yes, yes! your travelling bills soon found their way to us!
Too well I know we have still accounts to settle.

ILLO.
War is violent trade; one cannot always
Finish one's work by soft means; every trifle
Must not be blackened into sacrilege.
If we should wait till you, in solemn council,
With due deliberation had selected
The smallest out of four-and-twenty evils,
I' faith we should wait long—
"Dash! and through with it!" That's the better watchword.
Then after come what may come. 'Tis man's nature
To make the best of a bad thing once past.
A bitter and perplexed "what shall I do?"
Is worse to man than worst necessity.

QUESTENBERG.
Ay, doubtless, it is true; the duke does spare us
The troublesome task of choosing.

BUTLER.
                 Yes, the duke
Cares with a father's feelings for his troops;
But how the emperor feels for us, we see.

QUESTENBERG.
His cares and feelings all ranks share alike,
Nor will he offer one up to another.

ISOLANI.
And therefore thrusts he us into the deserts
As beasts of prey, that so he may preserve
His dear sheep fattening in his fields at home.

QUESTENBERG (with a sneer).
Count! this comparison you make, not I.

ILLO.
Why, were we all the court supposes us
'Twere dangerous, sure, to give us liberty.

QUESTENBERG (gravely).
You have taken liberty—it was not given you,
And therefore it becomes an urgent duty
To rein it in with the curbs.

ILLO.
Expect to find a restive steed in us.

QUESTENBERG.
A better rider may be found to rule it.

ILLO.
He only brooks the rider who has tamed him.

QUESTENBERG.
Ay, tame him once, and then a child may lead him.

ILLO.
The child, we know, is found for him already.

QUESTENBERG.
Be duty, sir, your study, not a name.

BUTLER (who has stood aside with PICCOLOMINI, but with visible interest
    in the conversation, advances).
Sir president, the emperor has in Germany
A splendid host assembled; in this kingdom
Full twenty thousand soldiers are cantoned,
With sixteen thousand in Silesia;
Ten regiments are posted on the Weser,
The Rhine, and Maine; in Swabia there are six,
And in Bavaria twelve, to face the Swedes;
Without including in the account the garrisons
Who on the frontiers hold the fortresses.
This vast and mighty host is all obedient
To Friedland's captains; and its brave commanders,
Bred in one school, and nurtured with one milk,
Are all excited by one heart and soul;
They are as strangers on the soil they tread,
The service is their only house and home.
No zeal inspires then for their country's cause,
For thousands like myself were born abroad;
Nor care they for the emperor, for one half
Deserting other service fled to ours,
Indifferent what their banner, whether 'twere,
The Double Eagle, Lily, or the Lion.
Yet one sole man can rein this fiery host
By equal rule, by equal love and fear;
Blending the many-nationed whole in one;
And like the lightning's fires securely led
Down the conducting rod, e'en thus his power
Rules all the mass, from guarded post to post,
From where the sentry hears the Baltic roar,
Or views the fertile vales of the Adige,
E'en to the body-guard, who holds his watch
Within the precincts of the imperial palace!

QUESTENBERG.
What's the short meaning of this long harangue?

BUTLER.
That the respect, the love, the confidence,
Which makes us willing subjects of Duke Friedland,
Are not to be transferred to the first comer
That Austria's court may please to send to us.
We have not yet so readily forgotten
How the command came into Friedland's hands.
Was it, forsooth, the emperor's majesty
That gave the army ready to his hand,
And only sought a leader for it? No.
The army then had no existence. He,
Friedland, it was who called it into being,
And gave it to his sovereign—but receiving
No army at his hand; nor did the emperor
Give Wallenstein to us as general. No,
It was from Wallenstein we first received
The emperor as our master and our sovereign;
And he, he only, binds us to our banners!

OCTAVIO (interposing and addressing QUESTENBERG).
My noble friend,
This is no more than a remembrancing
That you are now in camp, and among warriors;
The soldier's boldness constitutes his freedom.
Could he act daringly, unless he dared
Talk even so? One runs into the other.
The boldness of this worthy officer,
                [Pointing to BUTLER.
Which now is but mistaken in its mark,
Preserved, when naught but boldness could preserve it,
To the emperor, his capital city, Prague,
In a most formidable mutiny
Of the whole garrison. [Military music at a distance.
            Hah! here they come!

ILLO.
The sentries are saluting them: this signal
Announces the arrival of the duchess.

OCTAVIO (to QUESTENBERG).
Then my son Max., too, has returned. 'Twas he
Fetched and attended them from Caernthen hither.

ISOLANI (to ILLO).
Shall we not go in company to greet them?

ILLO.
Well, let us go—Ho! Colonel Butler, come.
               [To OCTAVIO.
You'll not forget that yet ere noon we meet
The noble envoy at the general's palace.

[Exeunt all but QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO.

SCENE III.

QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO.

QUESTENBERG (with signs of aversion and astonishment).
What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio!
What sentiments! what fierce, uncurbed defiance!
And were this spirit universal——

OCTAVIO.
                  Hm!
You're now acquainted with three-fourths of the army.

QUESTENBERG.
Where must we seek, then, for a second host
To have the custody of this? That Illo
Thinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And then
This Butler, too—he cannot even conceal
The passionate workings of his ill intentions.

OCTAVIO.
Quickness of temper—irritated pride;
'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler.
I know a spell that will soon dispossess
The evil spirit in him.

QUESTENBERG (walking up and down in evident disquiet).
            Friend, friend!
O! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffered
Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There
We saw it only with a courtier's eyes,
Eyes dazzled by the splendor of the throne.
We had not seen the war-chief, the commander,
The man all-powerful in his camp. Here, here,
'Tis quite another thing.
Here is no emperor more—the duke is emperor.
Alas, my friend! alas, my noble friend!
This walk which you have ta'en me through the camp
Strikes my hopes prostrate.

OCTAVIO.
              Now you see yourself
Of what a perilous kind the office is,
Which you deliver to me from the court.
The least suspicion of the general
Costs me my freedom and my life, and would
But hasten his most desperate enterprise.

QUESTENBERG.
Where was our reason sleeping when we trusted
This madman with the sword, and placed such power
In such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse,
Flatly refuse to obey the imperial orders.
Friend, he can do it, and what he can, he will.
And then the impunity of his defiance—
Oh! what a proclamation of our weakness!

OCTAVIO.
D'ye think, too, he has brought his wife and daughter
Without a purpose hither? Here in camp!
And at the very point of time in which
We're arming for the war? That he has taken
These, the last pledges of his loyalty,
Away from out the emperor's dominions—
This is no doubtful token of the nearness
Of some eruption.

QUESTENBERG.
         How shall we hold footing
Beneath this tempest, which collects itself
And threats us from all quarters? The enemy
Of the empire on our borders, now already
The master of the Danube, and still farther,
And farther still, extending every hour!
In our interior the alarum-bells
Of insurrection—peasantry in arms—
All orders discontented—and the army,
Just in the moment of our expectation
Of aidance from it—lo! this very army
Seduced, run wild, lost to all discipline,
Loosened, and rent asunder from the state
And from their sovereign, the blind instrument
Of the most daring of mankind, a weapon
Of fearful power, which at his will he wields.

OCTAVIO.
Nay, nay, friend! let us not despair too soon
Men's words are even bolder than their deeds;
And many a resolute, who now appears
Made up to all extremes, will, on a sudden,
Find in his breast a heart he wot not of,
Let but a single honest man speak out
The true name of his crime! Remember, too,
We stand not yet so wholly unprotected.
Counts Altringer and Gallas have maintained
Their little army faithful to its duty,
And daily it becomes more numerous.
Nor can he take us by surprise; you know
I hold him all encompassed by my listeners.
What'er he does, is mine, even while 'tis doing—
No step so small, but instantly I hear it;
Yea, his own mouth discloses it.

QUESTENBERG.
                 'Tis quite
Incomprehensible, that he detects not
The foe so near!

OCTAVIO.
         Beware, you do not think,
That I, by lying arts, and complaisant
Hypocrisy, have sulked into his graces,
Or with the substance of smooth professions
Nourish his all-confiding friendship! No—
Compelled alike by prudence, and that duty
Which we all owe our country and our sovereign,
To hide my genuine feelings from him, yet
Ne'er have I duped him with base counterfeits!

QUESTENBERG.
It is the visible ordinance of heaven.

OCTAVIO.
I know not what it is that so attracts
And links him both to me and to my son.
Comrades and friends we always were—long habit,
Adventurous deeds performed in company,
And all those many and various incidents
Which stores a soldier's memory with affections,
Had bound us long and early to each other—
Yet I can name the day, when all at once
His heart rose on me, and his confidence
Shot out into sudden growth. It was the morning
Before the memorable fight at Luetzen.
Urged by an ugly dream, I sought him out,
To press him to accept another charger.
At a distance from the tents, beneath a tree,
I found him in a sleep. When I had waked him
And had related all my bodings to him,
Long time he stared upon me, like a man
Astounded: thereon fell upon my neck,
And manifested to me an emotion
That far outstripped the worth of that small service.
Since then his confidence has followed me
With the same pace that mine has fled from him.

QUESTENBERG.
You lead your son into the secret?

OCTAVIO.
                  No!

QUESTENBERG.
What! and not warn him either, what bad hands
His lot has placed him in?

OCTAVIO.
              I must perforce
Leave him in wardship to his innocence.
His young and open soul—dissimulation
Is foreign to its habits! Ignorance
Alone can keep alive the cheerful air,
The unembarrassed sense and light free spirit,
That makes the duke secure.

QUESTENBERG (anxiously).
My honored friend! most highly do I deem
Of Colonel Piccolomini—yet—if—
Reflect a little——

OCTAVIO.
          I must venture it.
Hush! There he comes!

SCENE IV.

MAX. PICCOLOMINI, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, QUESTENBERG.

MAX.
Ha! there he is himself. Welcome, my father!

   [He embraces his father. As he turns round, he observes
   QUESTENBERG, and draws back with a cold and reserved air.

You are engaged, I see. I'll not disturb you.

OCTAVIO.
How, Max.? Look closer at this visitor.
Attention, Max., an old friend merits—reverence
Belongs of right to the envoy of your sovereign.

MAX. (drily).
Von Questenberg!—welcome—if you bring with you
Aught good to our headquarters.

QUESTENBERG (seizing his hand).
                 Nay, draw not
Your hand away, Count Piccolimini!
Not on my own account alone I seized it,
And nothing common will I say therewith.
           [Taking the hands of both.
Octavio—Max. Piccolomini!
O savior names, and full of happy omen!
Ne'er will her prosperous genius turn from Austria,
While two such stars, with blessed influences
Beaming protection, shine above her hosts.

MAX.
Heh! Noble minister! You miss your part.
You come not here to act a panegyric.
You're sent, I know, to find fault and to scold us—
I must not be beforehand with my comrades.

OCTAVIO (to MAX.).
He comes from court, where people are not quite
So well contented with the duke as here.

MAX.
What now have they contrived to find out in him?
That he alone determines for himself
What he himself alone doth understand!
Well, therein he does right, and will persist in't
Heaven never meant him for that passive thing
That can be struck and hammered out to suit
Another's taste and fancy. He'll not dance
To every tune of every minister.
It goes against his nature—he can't do it,
He is possessed by a commanding spirit,
And his, too, is the station of command.
And well for us it is so! There exist
Few fit to rule themselves, but few that use
Their intellects intelligently. Then
Well for the whole, if there be found a man
Who makes himself what nature destined him,
The pause, the central point, to thousand thousands
Stands fixed and stately, like a firm-built column,
Where all may press with joy and confidence—
Now such a man is Wallenstein; and if
Another better suits the court—no other
But such a one as he can serve the army.

QUESTENBERG.
The army? Doubtless!

MAX.
            What delight to observe
How he incites and strengthens all around him,
Infusing life and vigor. Every power
Seems as it were redoubled by his presence
He draws forth every latent energy,
Showing to each his own peculiar talent,
Yet leaving all to be what nature made them,
And watching only that they be naught else
In the right place and time; and he has skill
To mould the power's of all to his own end.

QUESTENBERG.
But who denies his knowledge of mankind,
And skill to use it? Our complaint is this:
That in the master he forgets the servant,
As if he claimed by birth his present honors.

MAX.
And does he not so? Is he not endowed
With every gift and power to carry out
The high intents of nature, and to win
A ruler's station by a ruler's talent?

QUESTENBERG.
So then it seems to rest with him alone
What is the worth of all mankind beside!

MAX.
Uncommon men require no common trust;
Give him but scope and he will set the bounds.

QUESTENBERG.
The proof is yet to come.

MAX.
              Thus are ye ever.
Ye shrink from every thing of depth, and think
Yourselves are only safe while ye're in shallows.

OCTAVIO (to QUESTENBERG).
'Twere best to yield with a good grace, my friend;
Of him there you'll make nothing.

MAX. (continuing).
                  In their fear
They call a spirit up, and when he comes,
Straight their flesh creeps and quivers, and they dread him
More than the ills for which they called him up.
The uncommon, the sublime, must seem and be
Like things of every day. But in the field,
Ay, there the Present Being makes itself felt.
The personal must command, the actual eye
Examine. If to be the chieftain asks
All that is great in nature, let it be
Likewise his privilege to move and act
In all the correspondences of greatness.
The oracle within him, that which lives,
He must invoke and question—not dead books,
Not ordinances, not mould-rotted papers.

OCTAVIO.
My son! of those old narrow ordinances
Let us not hold too lightly. They are weights
Of priceless value, which oppressed mankind,
Tied to the volatile will of their oppressors.
For always formidable was the League
And partnership of free power with free will.
The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds,
Is yet no devious path. Straight forward goes
The lightning's path, and straight the fearful path
Of the cannon-ball. Direct it flies, and rapid;
Shattering that it may reach, and shattering what it reaches,
My son, the road the human being travels,
That, on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow
The river's course, the valley's playful windings,
Curves round the cornfield and the hill of vines,
Honoring the holy bounds of property!
And thus secure, though late, leads to its end.

QUESTENBERG.
Oh, hear your father, noble youth! hear him
Who is at once the hero and the man.

OCTAVIO.
My son, the nursling of the camp spoke in thee!
A war of fifteen years
Hath been thy education and thy school.
Peace hast thou never witnessed! There exists
An higher than the warrior's excellence.
In war itself war is no ultimate purpose,
The vast and sudden deeds of violence,
Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment,
These are not they, my son, that generate
The calm, the blissful, and the enduring mighty!
Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect!
Builds his light town of canvas, and at once
The whole scene moves and bustles momently.
With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrel
The motley market fills; the roads, the streams
Are crowded with new freights; trade stirs and hurries,
But on some morrow morn, all suddenly,
The tents drop down, the horde renews its march.
Dreary, and solitary as a churchyard;
The meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie,
And the year's harvest is gone utterly.

MAX.
Oh, let the emperor make peace, my father!
Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel
For the first violet [5] of the leafless spring,
Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed.

OCTAVIO.
What ails thee? What so moves thee all at once?

MAX.
Peace have I ne'er beheld? I have beheld it.
From thence am I come hither: oh, that sight,
It glimmers still before me, like some landscape
Left in the distance,—some delicious landscape!
My road conducted me through countries where
The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my father—
My venerable father, life has charms
Which we have never experienced. We have been
But voyaging along its barren coasts,
Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates,
That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship,
House on the wild sea with wild usages,
Nor know aught of the mainland, but the bays
Where safeliest they may venture a thieves' landing.
Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals
Of fair and exquisite, oh, nothing, nothing,
Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.