MAX.
Of your secret?
COUNTESS.
Why, yes! When in the instant after you
I stepped into the room, and found my niece there;
What she in this first moment of the heart
Taken with surprise——
MAX. (with eagerness).
Well?
SCENE IV.
THEKLA (hurries forward), COUNTESS, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.
THEKLA (to the COUNTESS).
Spare yourself the trouble:
That hears he better from myself.
MAX. (stepping backward).
My princess!
What have you let her hear me say, Aunt Terzky?
THEKLA (to the COUNTESS).
Has he been here long?
COUNTESS.
Yes; and soon must go,
Where have you stayed so long?
THEKLA.
Alas! my mother,
Wept so again! and I—I see her suffer,
Yet cannot keep myself from being happy.
MAX.
Now once again I have courage to look on you.
To-day at noon I could not.
The dazzle of the jewels that played round you
Hid the beloved from me.
THEKLA.
Then you saw me
With your eye only—and not with your heart?
MAX.
This morning, when I found you in the circle
Of all your kindred, in your father's arms,
Beheld myself an alien in this circle,
O! what an impulse felt I in that moment
To fall upon his neck, to call him father!
But his stern eye o'erpowered the swelling passion,
It dared not but be silent. And those brilliants,
That like a crown of stars enwreathed your brows,
They scared me too! O wherefore, wherefore should be
At the first meeting spread as 'twere the ban
Of excommunication round you,—wherefore
Dress up the angel as for sacrifice.
And cast upon the light and joyous heart
The mournful burden of his station? Fitly
May love dare woo for love; but such a splendor
Might none but monarchs venture to approach.
THEKLA.
Hush! not a word more of this mummery;
You see how soon the burden is thrown off.
[To the COUNTESS.
He is not in spirits. Wherefore is he not?
'Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy!
He had quite another nature on the journey—
So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent.
[To MAX.
It was my wish to see you always so,
And never otherwise!
MAX.
You find yourself
In your great father's arms, beloved lady!
All in a new world, which does homage to you,
And which, were't only by its novelty,
Delights your eye.
THEKLA.
Yes; I confess to you
That many things delight me here: this camp,
This motley stage of warriors, which renews
So manifold the image of my fancy,
And binds to life, binds to reality,
What hitherto had but been present to me
As a sweet dream!
MAX.
Alas! not so to me.
It makes a dream of my reality.
Upon some island in the ethereal heights
I've lived for these last days. This mass of men
Forces me down to earth. It is a bridge
That, reconducting to my former life,
Divides me and my heaven.
THEKLA.
The game of life
Looks cheerful, when one carries in one's heart
The unalienable treasure. 'Tis a game,
Which, having once reviewed, I turn more joyous
Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss.
[Breaking off, and in a sportive tone.
In this short time that I've been present here.
What new unheard-of things have I not seen;
And yet they all must give place to the wond
Which this mysterious castle guards.
COUNTESS (recollecting).
And what
Can this be then? Methought I was acquainted
With all the dusky corners of this house.
THEKLA (smiling).
Ay, but the road thereto is watched by spirits,
Two griffins still stand sentry at the door.
COUNTESS (laughs).
The astrological tower! How happens it
That this same sanctuary, whose access
Is to all others so impracticable,
Opens before you even at your approach?
THEKLA.
A dwarfish old man with a friendly face
And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services
Were mine at first sight, opened me the doors.
MAX.
That is the duke's astrologer, old Seni.
THEKLA.
He questioned me on many points; for instance,
When I was born, what month, and on what day,
Whether by day or in the night.
COUNTESS.
He wished
To erect a figure for your horoscope.
THEKLA.
My hand too he examined, shook his head
With much sad meaning, and the lines, methought,
Did not square over truly with his wishes.
COUNTESS.
Well, princess, and what found you in this tower?
My highest privilege has been to snatch
A side-glance, and away!
THEKLA.
It was a strange
Sensation that came o'er me, when at first
From the broad sunshine I stepped in; and now
The narrowing line of daylight, that ran after
The closing door, was gone; and all about me
'Twas pale and dusky night, with many shadows
Fantastically cast. Here six or seven
Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me
In a half-circle. Each one in his hand
A sceptre bore, and on his head a star;
And in the tower no other light was there
But from these stars all seemed to come from them.
"These are the planets," said that low old man,
"They govern worldly fates, and for that cause
Are imaged here as kings. He farthest from you,
Spiteful and cold, an old man melancholy,
With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn.
He opposite, the king with the red light,
An armed man for the battle, that is Mars;
And both these bring but little luck to man."
But at his side a lovely lady stood,
The star upon her head was soft and bright,
Oh, that was Venus, the bright star of joy.
And the left hand, lo! Mercury, with wings
Quite in the middle glittered silver bright.
A cheerful man, and with a monarch's mien;
And this was Jupiter, my father's star
And at his side I saw the Sun and Moon.
MAX.
Oh, never rudely will I blame his faith
In the might of stars and angels. 'Tis not merely
The human being's pride that peoples space
With life and mystical predominance;
Since likewise for the stricken heart of love
This visible nature, and this common world,
Is all too narrow; yea, a deeper import
Lurks in the legend told my infant years
Than lies upon that truth, we live to learn.
For fable is love's world, his home, his birth-place;
Delightedly dwells he among fays and talismans,
And spirits; and delightedly believes
Divinities, being himself divine
The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
The fair humanities of old religion,
The power, the beauty, and the majesty,
That had her haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
Or chasms, and watery depths, all these have vanished.
They live no longer in the faith of reason!
But still the heart doth need a language, still
Doth the old instinct bring back the old names;
And to yon starry world they now are gone,
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
With man as with their friend [11], and to the lover
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
Shoot influence down: and even at this day
'This Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
And Venus who brings everything that's fair!
THEKLA.
And if this be the science of the stars,
I, too, with glad and zealous industry,
Will learn acquaintance with this cheerful faith.
It is a gentle and affectionate thought,
That in immeasurable heights above us,
At our first birth, the wreath of love was woven,
With sparkling stars for flowers.
COUNTESS.
Not only roses
And thorns too hath the heaven, and well for you
Leave they your wreath of love inviolate:
What Venus twined, the bearer of glad fortune,
The sullen orb of Mars soon tears to pieces.
MAX.
Soon will this gloomy empire reach its close.
Blest be the general's zeal: into the laurel
Will he inweave the olive-branch, presenting
Peace to the shouting nations. Then no wish
Will have remained for his great heart. Enough
Has he performed for glory, and can now
Live for himself and his. To his domains will
He retire; he has a stately seat
Of fairest view at Gitschin, Reichenberg,
And Friedland Castle, both lie pleasantly;
Even to the foot of the huge mountains here
Stretches the chase and covers of his forests:
His ruling passion to create the splendid
He can indulge without restraint; can give
A princely patronage to every art,
And to all worth a sovereign's protection.
Can build, can plant, can watch the starry courses——
COUNTESS.
Yet I would have you look, and look again,
Before you lay aside your arms, young friend!
A gentle bride, as she is, is well worth it,
That you should woo and win her with the sword.
MAX.
Oh, that the sword could win her!
COUNTESS.
What was that?
Did you hear nothing? Seemed as if I heard
Tumult and larum in the banquet-room.
[Exit COUNTESS.
SCENE V.
THEKLA and MAX. PICCOLOMINI.
THEKLA (as soon as the COUNTESS is out of sight, in a quick, low voice to PICCOLOMINI). Don't trust them! They are false!
MAX.
Impossible!
THEKLA.
Trust no one here but me. I saw at once,
They had a purpose.
MAX.
Purpose! but what purpose?
And how can we be instrumental to it?
THEKLA.
I know no more than you; but yet believe me
There's some design in this; to make us happy,
To realize our union—trust me, love!
They but pretend to wish it.
MAX.
But these Terzkys—
Why use we them at all? Why not your mother?
Excellent creature! She deserves from us
A full and filial confidence.
THEKLA.
She doth love you,
Doth rate you high before all others—but—
But such a secret—she would never have
The courage to conceal it from my father.
For her own peace of mind we must preserve it
A secret from her too.
MAX.
Why any secret?
I love not secrets. Mark what I will do.
I'll throw me at your father's feet—let him
Decide upon my fortune! He is true,
He wears no mask—he hates all crooked ways—
He is so good, so noble!
THEKLA. (falls on his neck).
That are you!
MAX.
You knew him only from this morn! But I
Have lived ten years already in his presence;
And who knows whether in this very moment
He is not merely waiting for us both
To own our loves in order to unite us?
You are silent!
You look at me with such a hopelessness!
What have you to object against your father?
THEKLA.
I? Nothing. Only he's so occupied—
He has no leisure time to think about
The happiness of us two.
[Taking his hand tenderly.
Follow me
Let us not place too great a faith in men.
These Terzkys—we will still be grateful to them
For every kindness, but not trust them further
Than they deserve;—and in all else rely
On our own hearts!
MAX.
O! shall we e'er be happy?
THEKLA.
Are we not happy now? Art thou not mine?
Am I not thine? There lives within my soul
A lofty courage—'tis love gives it me!
I ought to be less open—ought to hide
My heart more from thee—so decorum dictates:
But where in this place couldst thou seek for truth,
If in my mouth thou didst not find it?
We now have met, then let us hold each other
Clasped in a lasting and a firm embrace.
Believe me this was more than their intent.
Then be our loves like some blest relic kept
Within the deep recesses of the heart.
From heaven alone the love has been bestowed,
To heaven alone our gratitude is due;
It can work wonders for us still.
SCENE VI.
To them enters the COUNTESS TERZKY.
COUNTESS (in a pressing manner).
Come, come!
My husband sends me for you. It is now
The latest moment.
[They not appearing to attend to what she says,
she steps between them.
Part you!
THEKLA.
Oh, not yet!
It has been scarce a moment.
COUNTESS.
Ay! Then time
Flies swiftly with your highness, princess niece!
MAX.
There is no hurry, aunt.
COUNTESS.
Away! Away!
The folks begin to miss you. Twice already
His father has asked for him.
THEKLA.
Ha! His father!
COUNTESS.
You understand that, niece!
THEKLA.
Why needs he
To go at all to that society?
'Tis not his proper company. They may
Be worthy men, but he's too young for them;
In brief, he suits not such society.
COUNTESS.
You mean, you'd rather keep him wholly here?
THEKLA (with energy).
Yes! You have hit it aunt! That is my meaning,
Leave him here wholly! Tell the company——
COUNTESS.
What! have you lost your senses, niece?
Count, you remember the conditions. Come!
MAX (to THEKLA).
Lady, I must obey. Fairwell, dear lady!
[THEKLA turns away from him with a quick motion.
What say you then, dear lady?
THEKLA (without looking at him).
Nothing. Go!
MAX.
Can I when you are angry——
[He draws up to her, their eyes meet, she stands silent a moment,
then throws herself into his arms; he presses her fast to his heart.
COUNTESS.
Off! Heavens! if any one should come!
Hark! What's that noise! It comes this way. Off!
[MAX. tears himself away out of her arms and goes. The COUNTESS accompanies him. THEKLA follows him with her eyes at first, walks restlessly across the room, then stops, and remains standing, lost in thought. A guitar lies on the table, she seizes it as by a sudden emotion, and after she has played awhile an irregular and melancholy symphony, she falls gradually into the music and sings.
SCENE VII.
THEKLA (plays and sings).
The cloud doth gather, the greenwood roar,
The damsel paces along the shore;
The billows, they tumble with might, with might;
And she flings out her voice to the darksome night;
Her bosom is swelling with sorrow;
The world it is empty, the heart will die,
There's nothing to wish for beneath the sky
Thou Holy One, call thy child away!
I've lived and loved, and that was to-day;
Make ready my grave-clothes to-morrow. [12]
SCENE VIII.
COUNTESS (returns), THEKLA.
COUNTESS.
Fie, lady niece! to throw yourself upon him
Like a poor gift to one who cares not for it,
And so must be flung after him! For you,
Duke Friedland's only child, I should have thought
It had been more beseeming to have shown yourself
More chary of your person.
THEKLA (rising).
And what mean you?
DUCHESS.
I mean, niece, that you should not have forgotten
Who you are, and who he is. But perchance
That never once occurred to you.
THEKLA.
What then?
COUNTESS.
That you're the daughter of the Prince Duke Friedland.
THEKLA.
Well, and what farther?
DUCHESS.
What? A pretty question!
THEKLA.
He was born that which we have but become.
He's of an ancient Lombard family,
Son of a reigning princess.
COUNTESS.
Are you dreaming?
Talking in sleep? An excellent jest, forsooth!
We shall no doubt right courteously entreat him
To honor with his hand the richest heiress
In Europe.
THEKLA.
That will not be necessary.
COUNTESS.
Methinks 'twere well, though, not to run the hazard.
THEHLA.
His father loves him; Count Octavio
Will interpose no difficulty——
COUNTESS.
His!
His father! His! But yours, niece, what of yours?
THERLA.
Why, I begin to think you fear his father,
So anxiously you hide it from the man!
His father, his, I mean.
COUNTESS (looks at her as scrutinizing).
Niece, you are false.
THEBLA.
Are you then wounded? O, be friends with me!
COUNTESS.
You hold your game for won already. Do not
Triumph too soon!
THEKLA (interrupting her, and attempting to soothe her).
Nay now, be friends with me.
COUNTESS.
It is not yet so far gone.
THEKLA.
I believe you.
COUNTESS.
Did you suppose your father had laid out
His most important life in toils of war,
Denied himself each quiet earthly bliss,
Had banished slumbers from his tent, devoted
His noble head to care, and for this only,
To make a happier pair of you? At length
To draw you from your convent, and conduct
In easy triumph to your arms the man
That chanced to please your eyes! All this, methinks,
He might have purchased at a cheaper rate.
THEKLA.
That which he did not plant for me might yet
Bear me fair fruitage of its own accord.
And if my friendly and affectionate fate,
Out of his fearful and enormous being,
Will but prepare the joys of life for me——
COUNTESS.
Thou seest it with a lovelorn maiden's eyes,
Cast thine eye round, bethink thee who thou art;—
Into no house of joyance hast thou stepped,
For no espousals dost thou find the walls
Decked out, no guests the nuptial garland wearing;
Here is no splendor but of arms. Or thinkest thou
That all these thousands are here congregated
To lead up the long dances at thy wedding!
Thou see'st thy father's forehead full of thought,
Thy mother's eye in tears: upon the balance
Lies the great destiny of all our house.
Leave now the puny wish, the girlish feeling;
Oh, thrust it far behind thee! Give thou proof
Thou'rt the daughter of the mighty—his
Who where he moves creates the wonderful.
Not to herself the woman must belong,
Annexed and bound to alien destinies.
But she performs the best part, she the wisest,
Who can transmute the alien into self,
Meet and disarm necessity by choice;
And what must be, take freely to her heart,
And bear and foster it with mother's love.
THEKLA.
Such ever was my lesson in the convent.
I had no loves, no wishes, knew myself
Only as his—his daughter—his, the mighty!
His fame, the echo of whose blast drove to me
From the far distance, weakened in my soul
No other thought than this—I am appointed
To offer myself up in passiveness to him.
COUNTESS.
That is thy fate. Mould thou thy wishes to it—
I and thy mother gave thee the example.
THEKLA.
My fate hath shown me him, to whom behoves it
That I should offer up myself. In gladness
Him will I follow.
COUNTESS.
Not thy fate hath shown him!
Thy heart, say rather—'twas thy heart, my child!
THEKLA.
Faith hath no voice but the heart's impulses.
I am all his! His present—his alone.
Is this new life, which lives in me? He hath
A right to his own creature. What was I
Ere his fair love infused a soul into me?
COUNTESS.
Thou wouldst oppose thy father, then, should he
Have otherwise determined with thy person?
[THEKLA remains silent. The COUNTESS continues.
Thou meanest to force him to thy liking? Child,
His name is Friedland.
THEKLA.
My name too is Friedland.
He shall have found a genuine daughter in me.
COUNTESS.
What! he has vanquished all impediment,
And in the wilful mood of his own daughter
Shall a new struggle rise for him? Child! child!
As yet thou hast seen thy father's smiles alone;
The eye of his rage thou hast not seen. Dear child,
I will not frighten thee. To that extreme,
I trust it ne'er shall come. His will is yet
Unknown to me; 'tis possible his aims
May have the same direction as thy wish.
But this can never, never be his will,
That thou, the daughter of his haughty fortunes,
Shouldest e'er demean thee as a lovesick maiden
And like some poor cost-nothing, fling thyself
Toward the man, who, if that high prize ever
Be destined to await him, yet with sacrifices
The highest love can bring, must pay for it.
[Exit COUNTESS.
SCENE IX.
THEKLA (who during the last speech had been standing evidently
lost in her reflections).
I thank thee for the hint. It turns
My sad presentiment to certainty.
And it is so! Not one friend have we here,
Not one true heart! we've nothing but ourselves!
Oh, she said rightly—no auspicious signs
Beam on this covenant of our affections.
This is no theatre where hope abides
The dull thick noise of war alone stirs here,
And love himself, as he were armed in steel,
Steps forth, and girds him for the strife of death.
[Music from the banquet-room is heard.
There's a dark spirit walking in our house.
And swiftly will the destiny close on us.
It drove me hither from my calm asylum,
It mocks my soul with charming witchery,
It lures me forward in a seraph's shape,
I see it near, I see it nearer floating,
It draws, it pulls me with a godlike power—
And lo! the abyss—and thither am I moving—
I have no power within me not to move!
[The music from the banquet-room becomes louder.
Oh, when a house is, doomed in fire to perish,
Many and dark Heaven drives his clouds together,
Yea, shoots his lightnings down from sunny heights,
Flames burst from out the subterraneous chasms,
And fiends and angels, mingling in their fury,
Sling firebrands at the burning edifice. [13]
[Exit THEKLA.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
A large saloon lighted up with festal splendor; in the midst of it, and in the centre of the stage a table richly set out, at which eight generals are sitting, among whom are OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, TERZKY, and MARADAS. Right and left of this, but further back, two other tables, at each of which six persons are placed. The middle door, which is standing open, gives to the prospect a fourth table with the same number of persons. More forward stands the sideboard. The whole front of the stage is kept open, for the pages and servants-in-waiting. All is in motion. The band of music belonging to TERZKY's regiment march across the stage, and draw up around the tables. Before they are quite off from the front of the stage, MAX. PICCOLOMINI appears, TERZKY advances towards him with a paper, ISOLANI comes up to meet him with a beaker, or service-cup.
TERZKY, ISOLANI, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.
ISOLANI.
Here, brother, what we love! Why, where hast been?
Off to thy place—quick! Terzky here has given
The mother's holiday wine up to free booty.
Here it goes on as at the Heidelberg castle.
Already hast thou lost the best. They're giving
At yonder table ducal crowns in shares;
There Sternberg's lands and chattels are put up,
With Eggenberg's, Stawata's, Lichtenstein's,
And all the great Bohemian feudalities.
Be nimble, lad! and something may turn up
For thee, who knows? off—to thy place! quick! march!
TIEFENBACH and GOETZ (call out from the second and third tables).
Count Piccolomini!
TERZKY.
Stop, ye shall have him in an instant. Read
This oath here, whether as 'tis here set forth,
The wording satisfies you. They've all read it,
Each in his turn, and each one will subscribe
His individual signature.
MAX. (reads).
"Ingratis servire nefas."
ISOLANI.
That sounds to my ears very much like Latin,
And being interpreted, pray what may it mean?
TERZKY.
No honest man will serve a thankless master.
MAX. "Inasmuch as our supreme commander, the illustrious Duke of Friedland, in consequence of the manifold affronts and grievances which he has received, had expressed his determination to quit the emperor, but on our unanimous entreaty has graciously consented to remain still with the army, and not to part from us without our approbation thereof, so we, collectively and each in particular, in the stead of an oath personally taken, do, hereby oblige ourselves—likewise by him honorably and faithfully to hold, and in nowise whatsoever from him to part, and to be ready to shed for his interests the last drop of our blood, so far, namely, as our oath to the emperor will permit it. (These last words are repeated by ISOLANI.) In testimony of which we subscribe our names."
TERZKY.
Now! are you willing to subscribe to this paper?
ISOLANI.
Why should he not? All officers of honor
Can do it, ay, must do it. Pen and ink here!
TERZKY.
Nay, let it rest till after meal.
ISOLANI (drawing MAX. along).
Come, Max!
[Both seat themselves at their table.
SCENE II.
TERZKY, NEUMANN.
TERZKY (beckons to NEUMANN, who is waiting at the side-table and steps
forward with him to the edge of the stage).
Have you the copy with you, Neumann? Give it.
It may be changed for the other?
NEUMANN.
I have copied it
Letter by letter, line by line; no eye
Would e'er discover other difference,
Save only the omission of that clause,
According to your excellency's order.
TERZKY.
Right I lay it yonder and away with this—
It has performed its business—to the fire with it.
[NEUMANN lays the copy on the table, and steps back again
to the side-table.
SCENE III.
ILLO (comes out from the second chamber), TERZKY.
ILLO.
How goes it with young Piccolomini!
TERZKY.
All right, I think. He has started no object.
ILLO.
He is the only one I fear about—
He and his father. Have an eye on both!
TERZKY.
How looks it at your table: you forget not
To keep them warm and stirring?
ILLO.
Oh, quite cordial,
They are quite cordial in the scheme. We have them
And 'tis as I predicted too. Already
It is the talk, not merely to maintain
The duke in station. "Since we're once for all
Together and unanimous, why not,"
Says Montecuculi, "ay, why not onward,
And make conditions with the emperor
There in his own Venice?" Trust me, count,
Were it not for these said Piccolomini,
We might have spared ourselves the cheat.
TERZEY.
And Butler?
How goes it there? Hush!
SCENE IV.
To them enter BUTLER from a second table.
BUTLER.
Don't disturb yourselves;
Field-marshal, I have understood you perfectly.
Good luck be to the scheme; and as to me,
[With an air of mystery.
You may depend upon me.
ILLO (with vivacity).
May we, Butler?
BUTLER.
With or without the clause, all one to me!
You understand me! My fidelity
The duke may put to any proof—I'm with him
Tell him so! I'm the emperor's officer,
As long as 'tis his pleasure to remain
The emperor's general! and Friedland's servant,
As soon as it shall please him to become
His own lord.
TERZKY.
You would make a good exchange.
No stern economist, no Ferdinand,
Is he to whom you plight your services.
BUTLER (with a haughty look).
I do not put up my fidelity
To sale, Count Terzky! Half a year ago
I would not have advised you to have made me
An overture to that, to which I now
Offer myself of my own free accord.
But that is past! and to the duke, field-marshal,
I bring myself, together with my regiment.
And mark you, 'tis my humor to believe,
The example which I give will not remain
Without an influence.
ILLO.
Who is ignorant,
That the whole army looks to Colonel Butler
As to a light that moves before them?
BUTLER.
Ay?
Then I repent me not of that fidelity
Which for the length of forty years I held,
If in my sixtieth year my good old name
Can purchase for me a revenge so full.
Start not at what I say, sir generals!
My real motives—they concern not you.
And you yourselves, I trust, could not expect
That this your game had crooked my judgment—or
That fickleness, quick blood, or such like cause,
Has driven the old man from the track of honor,
Which he so long had trodden. Come, my friends!
I'm not thereto determined with less firmness,
Because I know and have looked steadily
At that on which I have determined.
ILLO.
Say,
And speak roundly, what are we to deem you?
BUTLER.
A friend! I give you here my hand! I'm yours
With all I have. Not only men, but money
Will the duke want. Go, tell him, sirs!
I've earned and laid up somewhat in his service,
I lend it him; and is he my survivor,
It has been already long ago bequeathed to him;
He is my heir. For me, I stand alone
Here in the world; naught know I of the feeling
That binds the husband to a wife and children.
My name dies with me, my existence ends.
ILLO.
'Tis not your money that he needs—a heart
Like yours weighs tons of gold down, weighs down millions!
BUTLER.
I came a simple soldier's boy from Ireland
To Prague—and with a master, whom I buried.
From lowest stable duty I climbed up,
Such was the fate of war, to this high rank,
The plaything of a whimsical good fortune.
And Wallenstein too is a child of luck:
I love a fortune that is like my own.
ILLO.
All powerful souls have kindred with each other.
BUTLER.
This is an awful moment! to the brave,
To the determined, an auspicious moment.
The Prince of Weimar arms, upon the Maine,
To found a mighty dukedom. He of Halberstadt,
That Mansfeldt, wanted but a longer life
To have marked out with his good sword a lordship
That should reward his courage. Who of these
Equals our Friedland? There is nothing, nothing
So high, but he may set the ladder to it!
TERZKY.
That's spoken like a man!
BUTLER.
Do you secure the Spaniard and Italian—
I'll be your warrant for the Scotchman Lesly.
Come to the company!
TERZKY.
Where is the master of the cellar? Ho!
Let the best wines come up. Ho! cheerly, boy!
Luck comes to-day, so give her hearty welcome.
[Exeunt, each to his table.
SCENE V.
The MASTER OF THE CELLAR, advancing with NEUMANN, SERVANTS passing backwards and forwards.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. The best wine! Oh, if my old mistress, his lady mother, could but see these wild goings on she would turn herself round in her grave. Yes, yes, sir officer! 'tis all down the hill with this noble house! no end, no moderation! And this marriage with the duke's sister, a splendid connection, a very splendid connection! but I will tell you, sir officer, it looks no good.
NEUMANN. Heaven forbid! Why, at this very moment the whole prospect is in bud and blossom!
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. You think so? Well, well! much may be said on that head.
FIRST SERVANT (comes). Burgundy for the fourth table.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Now, sir lieutenant, if this aint the seventieth flask——
FIRST SERVANT. Why, the reason is, that German lord, Tiefenbach, sits at that table.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (continuing his discourse to NEUMANN). They are soaring too high. They would rival kings and electors in their pomp and splendor; and wherever the duke leaps, not a minute does my gracious master, the count, loiter on the brink—(to the SERVANTS). What do you stand there listening for? I will let you know you have legs presently. Off! see to the tables, see to the flasks! Look there! Count Palfi has an empty glass before him!
RUNNER (comes). The great service-cup is wanted, sir, that rich gold cup with the Bohemian arms on it. The count says you know which it is.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Ay! that was made for Frederick's coronation by the artist William—there was not such another prize in the whole booty at Prague.
RUNNER. The same!—a health is to go round in him.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (shaking his head while he fetches and rinses the cups). This will be something for the tale-bearers—this goes to Vienna.
NEUMANN. Permit me to look at it. Well, this is a cup indeed! How heavy! as well it may be, being all gold. And what neat things are embossed on it! how natural and elegant they look! There, on the first quarter, let me see. That proud amazon there on horseback, she that is taking a leap over the crosier and mitres, and carries on a wand a hat together with a banner, on which there's a goblet represented. Can you tell me what all this signifies?
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. The woman you see there on horseback is the Free Election of the Bohemian Crown. That is signified by the round hat and by that fiery steed on which she is riding. The hat is the pride of man; for he who cannot keep his hat on before kings and emperors is no free man.
NEUMANN. But what is the cup there on the banner.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. The cup signifies the freedom of the Bohemian Church, as it was in our forefathers' times. Our forefathers in the wars of the Hussites forced from the pope this noble privilege; for the pope, you know, will not grant the cup to any layman. Your true Moravian values nothing beyond the cup; it is his costly jewel, and has cost the Bohemians their precious blood in many and many a battle.
NEUMANN. And what says that chart that hangs in the air there, over it all?
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. That signifies the Bohemian letter-royal which we forced from the Emperor Rudolph—a precious, never to be enough valued parchment, that secures to the new church the old privileges of free ringing and open psalmody. But since he of Steiermark has ruled over us that is at an end; and after the battle at Prague, in which Count Palatine Frederick lost crown and empire, our faith hangs upon the pulpit and the altar—and our brethren look at their homes over their shoulders; but the letter-royal the emperor himself cut to pieces with his scissors.
NEUMANN. Why, my good Master of the Cellar! you are deep read in the chronicles of your country.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. So were my forefathers, and for that reason were they minstrels, and served under Procopius and Ziska. Peace be with their ashes! Well, well! they fought for a good cause though. There! carry it up!
NEUMANN. Stay! let me but look at this second quarter. Look there!
That is, when at Prague Castle, the imperial counsellors, Martinitz and
Stawata, were hurled down head over heels. 'Tis even so! there stands
Count Thur who commands it.
[RUNNER takes the service-cup and goes off with it.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Oh, let me never more hear of that day. It was the three-and-twentieth of May in the year of our Lord one thousand six hundred and eighteen. It seems to me as it were but yesterday—from that unlucky day it all began, all the heartaches of the country. Since that day it is now sixteen years, and there has never once been peace on the earth.
[Health drunk aloud at the second table.
The Prince of Weimar! Hurrah!
[At the third and fourth tables.
Long live Prince William! Long live Duke Bernard! Hurrah!
[Music strikes up.
FIRST SERVANT. Hear 'em! Hear 'em! What an uproar!
SECOND SERVANT (comes in running). Did you hear? They have drunk the
Prince of Weimar's health.
THIRD SERVANT. The Swedish chief commander!
FIRST SERVANT (speaking at the same time). The Lutheran!
SECOND SERVANT. Just before, when Count Deodati gave out the emperor's health, they were all as mum as a nibbling mouse.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Po, po! When the wine goes in strange things come out. A good servant hears, and hears not! You should be nothing but eyes and feet, except when you are called to.
SECOND SERVANT. [To the RUNNER, to whom he gives secretly a flask of wine, keeping his eye on the MASTER OF THE CELLAR, standing between him and the RUNNER. Quick, Thomas! before the Master of the Cellar runs this way; 'tis a flask of Frontignac! Snapped it up at the third table. Canst go off with it?
RUNNER (hides it in his, pocket). All right!
[Exit the Second Servant.
THIRD SERVANT (aside to the FIRST). Be on the hark, Jack! that we may have right plenty to tell to Father Quivoga. He will give us right plenty of absolution in return for it.
FIRST SERVANT. For that very purpose I am always having something to do behind Illo's chair. He is the man for speeches to make you stare with.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (to NEUMANN). Who, pray, may that swarthy man be, he with the cross, that is chatting so confidently with Esterhats?
NEUMANN. Ay, he too is one of those to whom they confide too much. He calls himself Maradas; a Spaniard is he.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (impatiently). Spaniard! Spaniard! I tell you, friend, nothing good comes of those Spaniards. All these outlandish fellows are little better than rogues.
NEUMANN. Fy, fy! you should not say so, friend. There are among them our very best generals, and those on whom the duke at this moment relies the most.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR.
[Taking the flask out of RUNNER'S pocket.
My son, it will be broken to pieces in your pocket.
[TERZKY hurries in, fetches away the paper, and calls to a servant
for pen and ink, and goes to the back of the stage.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (to the SERVANTS). The lieutenant-general stands up. Be on the watch. Now! They break up. Off, and move back the forms.
[They rise at all the tables, the SERVANTS hurry off the front of the stage to the tables; part of the guests come forward.
SCENE VI.
OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI enters, in conversation with MARADAS, and both place themselves quite on the edge of the stage on one side of the proscenium. On the side directly opposite, MAX. PICCOLOMINI, by himself, lost in thought, and taking no part in anything that is going forward. The middle space between both, but rather more distant from the edge of the stage, is filled up by BUTLER, ISOLANI, GOETZ, TIEFENBACH, and KOLATTO.
ISOLANI (while the company is coming forward). Good-night, good-night, Kolatto! Good-night, lieutenant-general! I should rather say good-morning.
GOETZ (to TIEFENBACH). Noble brother! (making the usual compliment after meals).
TIEFENBACH. Ay! 'twas a royal feast indeed.
GOETZ. Yes, my lady countess understands these matters. Her mother-in-law, heaven rest her soul, taught her! Ah! that was a housewife for you!
TIEFENBACH. There was not her like in all Bohemia for setting out a table.
OCTAVIO (aside to MARADAS). Do me the favor to talk to me—talk of what you will—or of nothing. Only preserve the appearance at least of talking. I would not wish to stand by myself, and yet I conjecture that there will be goings on here worthy of our attentive observation. (He continues to fix his eye on the whole following scene.)
ISOLANI (on the point of going). Lights! lights!
TERZKY (advances with the paper to ISOLANI). Noble brother; two minutes longer! Here is something to subscribe.
ISOLANI. Subscribe as much as you like—but you must excuse me from reading it.
TERZKY. There is no need. It is the oath which you have already read.
Only a few marks of your pen!
[ISOLANI hands over the paper to OCTAVIO respectfully.
TERZKY. Nay, nay, first come, first served. There is no precedence here.
[OCTAVIO runs over the paper with apparent indifference.
TERZKY watches him at some distance.
GOETZ (to TERZKY). Noble count! with your permission—good-night.
TERKZY. Where's the hurry? Come, one other composing draught. (To the
SERVANTS). Ho!
GOETZ. Excuse me—aint able.
TERZKY. A thimble-full.
GOETZ. Excuse me.
TIEFENBACH (sits down). Pardon me, nobles! This standing does not agree with me.
TERZKY. Consult your own convenience, general.
TIEFENBACH. Clear at head, sound in stomach—only my legs won't carry me any longer.
ISOLANI (pointing at his corpulence). Poor legs! how should they! Such an unmerciful load!
[OCTAVIO subscribes his name, and reaches over the paper to TERZKY,
who gives it to ISOLANI; and he goes to the table to sign his name.
TIEFENBACH. 'Twas that war in Pomerania that first brought it on. Out in all weathers—ice and snow—no help for it. I shall never get the better of it all the days of my life.
GOETZ. Why, in simple verity, your Swedes make no nice inquiries about the season.
TERZKY (observing ISOLANI, whose hand trembles excessively so that he can scarce direct his pen). Have you had that ugly complaint long, noble brother? Despatch it.
ISOLANI. The sins of youth! I have already tried the chalybeate waters.
Well—I must bear it.
[TERZKY gives the paper to MARADAS; he steps to the table
to subscribe.
OCTAVIO (advancing to BUTLER). You are not over-fond of the orgies of Bacchus, colonel! I have observed it. You would, I think, find yourself more to your liking in the uproar of a battle than of a feast.
BUTLER. I must confess 'tis not in my way.
OCTAVIO (stepping nearer to him friendlily). Nor in mine neither, I can assure you; and I am not a little glad, my much-honored Colonel Butler, that we agree so well in our opinions. A half-dozen good friends at most, at a small round table, a glass of genuine Tokay, open hearts, and a rational conversation—that's my taste.
BUTLER. And mine, too, when it can be had.
[The paper comes to TIEFENBACH, who glances over it at the same time with GOETZ and KOLATTO. MARADAS in the meantime returns to OCTAVIO. All this takes places, the conversation with BUTLER proceeding uninterrupted.
OCTAVIO (introducing MADARAS to BUTLER.) Don Balthasar Maradas! likewise a man of our stamp, and long ago your admirer.
[BUTLER bows.
OCTAVIO (continuing). You are a stranger here—'twas but yesterday you arrived—you are ignorant of the ways and means here. 'Tis a wretched place. I know at your age one loves to be snug and quiet. What if you move your lodgings? Come, be my visitor. (BUTLER makes a low bow.) Nay, without compliment! For a friend like you I have still a corner remaining.
BUTLER (coldly). Your obliged humble servant, my lord lieutenant-general.
[The paper comes to BUTLER, who goes to the table to subscribe it. The front of the stage is vacant, so that both the PICCOLOMINIS, each on the side where he had been from the commencement of the scene, remain alone.
OCTAVIO (after having some time watched his son in silence, advances somewhat nearer to him). You were long absent from us, friend!
MAX. I—urgent business detained me.
OCTAVIO. And, I observe, you are still absent!
MAX. You know this crowd and bustle always makes me silent.
OCTAVIO (advancing still nearer). May I be permitted to ask what the business was that detained you? Terzky knows it without asking.
MAX. What does Terzky know?
OCTAVIO. He was the only one who did not miss you.
ISOLANI (who has been attending to them for some distance steps up). Well done, father! Rout out his baggage! Beat up his quarters! there is something there that should not be.
TERZKY (with the paper). Is there none wanting? Have the whole subscribed?
OCTAVIO. All.
TERZKY (calling aloud). Ho! Who subscribes?
BUTLER (to TERZKY). Count the names. There ought to be just thirty.
TERZKY. Here is a cross.
TIEFENBACH. That's my mark!
ISOLANI. He cannot write; but his cross is a good cross, and is honored by Jews as well as Christians.
OCTAVIO (presses on to MAX.). Come, general! let us go. It is late.
TERZKY. One Piccolomini only has signed.
ISOLANI (pointing to MAX.). Look! that is your man, that statue there, who has had neither eye, ear, nor tongue for us the whole evening.
[MAX. receives the paper from TERZKY, which he looks upon vacantly.
SCENE VII.
To these enter ILLO from the inner room. He has in his hand a
golden service-cup, and is extremely distempered with drinking;
GOETZ and BUTLER follow him, endeavoring to keep him back.
ILLO.
What do you want! Let me go.
GOETZ and BUTLER.
Drink no more, Illo! For heaven's sake, drink no more.
ILLO (goes up to OCTAVIO, and shakes him cordially by the hand, and then drinks). Octavio! I bring this to you! Let all grudge be drowned in this friendly bowl! I know well enough you never loved me—devil take me! and I never loved you! I am always even with people in that way! Let what's past be past—that is, you understand—forgotten! I esteem you infinitely. (Embracing him repeatedly.) You have not a dearer friend on earth than I, but that you know. The fellow that cries rogue to you calls me villain, and I'll strangle him! my dear friend!
TERZKY (whispering to him). Art in thy senses? For heaven's sake, Illo, think where you are!
ILLO (aloud). What do you mean? There are none but friends here, are there? (Looks round the whole circle with a jolly and triumphant air.) Not a sneaker amongst us, thank heaven.
TERZKY (to BUTLER, eagerly). Take him off with you, force him off, I entreat you, Butler!
BUTLER (to ILLO). Field-marshal! a word with you. (Leads to the side-board.)
ILLO (cordially). A thousand for one. Fill; fill it once more up to the brim. To this gallant man's health!
ISOLANI (to MAX., who all the while has been staring on the paper with fixed but vacant eyes). Slow and sure, my noble brother! Hast parsed it all yet? Some words yet to go through? Ha?
MAX. (waking as from a dream). What am I to do?
TERZKY, and at the same time ISOLANI. Sign your name. (OCTAVIO directs his eyes on him with intense anxiety).
MAX. (returns the paper). Let it stay till to-morrow. It is business; to-day I am not sufficiently collected. Send it to me to-morrow.
TERZKY. Nay, collect yourself a little.
ISOLANI. Awake man, awake! Come, thy signature, and have done with it! What! Thou art the youngest in the whole company, and would be wiser than all of us together! Look there! thy father has signed; we have all signed.
TERZKY (to OCTAVIO). Use your influence. Instruct him.
OCTAVIO. My son is at the age of discretion.
ILLO (leaves the service-cup on the sideboard). What's the dispute?
TERZKY. He declines subscribing the paper.
MAX. I say it may as well stay till to-morrow.
ILLO. It cannot stay. We have all subscribed to it—and so must you.
You must subscribe.
MAX. Illo, good-night!
ILLO. No! you come not off so! The duke shall learn who are his friends. (All collect round ILLO and MAX.)
MAX. What my sentiments are towards the duke, the duke knows, every one knows—what need of this wild stuff?
ILLO. This is the thanks the duke gets for his partiality to Italians and foreigners. Us Bohemians he holds for little better than dullards— nothing pleases him but what's outlandish.
TERZKY (in extreme embarrassment, to the Commanders, who at ILLO's words give a sudden start as preparing to resent them). It is the wine that speaks, and not his reason. Attend not to him, I entreat you.
ISOLANI (with a bitter laugh). Wine invents nothing: it only tattles.
ILLO. He who is not with me is against me. Your tender consciences!
Unless they can slip out by a back-door, by a puny proviso——
TERZKY (interrupting him). He is stark mad—don't listen to him!
ILLO (raising his voice to the highest pitch). Unless they can slip out by a proviso. What of the proviso? The devil take this proviso!
MAX. (has his attention roused, and looks again into the paper). What is there here then of such perilous import? You make me curious—I must look closer at it.
TERZKY (in a low voice to ILLO). What are you doing, Illo? You are ruining us.
TIEFENBACH (to KOLATTO). Ay, ay! I observed, that before we sat down to supper, it was read differently.
GOETZ. Why, I seemed to think so too.
ISOLANI. What do I care for that? Where there stand other names mine can stand too.
TIEFENBACH. Before supper there was a certain proviso therein, or short clause, concerning our duties to the emperor.
BUTLER (to one of the Commanders). For shame, for shame! Bethink you. What is the main business here? The question now is, whether we shall keep our general, or let him retire. One must not take these things too nicely, and over-scrupulously.
ISOLANI (to one of the Generals). Did the duke make any of these provisos when he gave you your regiment?
TERZKY (to GOETZ). Or when he gave you the office of army-purveyancer, which brings you in yearly a thousand pistoles!
ILLO. He is a rascal who makes us out to be rogues. If there be any one that wants satisfaction, let him say so,—I am his man.
TIEFENBACH. Softly, softly? 'Twas but a word or two.
MAX. (having read the paper gives it back). Till to-morrow therefore!
ILLO (stammering with rage and fury, loses all command over himself and presents the paper to MAX. With one hand, and his sword in the other). Subscribe—Judas!
ISOLANI. Out upon you, Illo!
OCTAVIO, TERZKY, BUTLER (all together). Down with the sword!
MAX. (rushes on him suddenly and disarms him, then to COUNT TERZKY).
Take him off to bed!
[MAX leaves the stage. ILLO cursing and raving is held back by some
of the officers, and amidst a universal confusion the curtain drops.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
A Chamber in PICCOLOMINI's Mansion. It is Night.
OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI. A VALET DE CHAMBRE with Lights.
OCTAVIO.
And when my son comes in, conduct him hither.
What is the hour?
VALET.
'Tis on the point of morning.
OCTAVIO.
Set down the light. We mean not to undress.
You may retire to sleep.
[Exit VALET. OCTAVIO paces, musing, across the chamber; MAX.
PICCOLOMINI enters unobserved, and looks at his father for some
moments in silence.
MAX.
Art thou offended with me? Heaven knows
That odious business was no fault of mine.
'Tis true, indeed, I saw thy signature,
What thou hast sanctioned, should not, it might seem,
Have come amiss to me. But—'tis my nature—
Thou know'st that in such matters I must follow
My own light, not another's.
OCTAVIO (goes up to him and embraces him).
Follow it,
Oh, follow it still further, my best son!
To-night, dear boy! it hath more faithfully
Guided thee than the example of thy father.
MAX.
Declare thyself less darkly.
OCTAVIO.
I will do so;
For after what has taken place this night,
There must remain no secrets 'twixt us two.
[Both seat themselves.
Max. Piccolomini! what thinkest thou of
The oath that was sent round for signatures?
MAX.
I hold it for a thing of harmless import,
Although I love not these set declarations.
OCTAVIO.
And on no other ground hast thou refused
The signature they fain had wrested from thee?
MAX.
It was a serious business. I was absent—
The affair itself seemed not so urgent to me.
OCTAVIO.
Be open, Max. Thou hadst then no suspicion?
MAX.
Suspicion! what suspicion? Not the least.
OCTAVIO.
Thank thy good angel, Piccolomini;
He drew thee back unconscious from the abyss.
MAX.
I know not what thou meanest.
OCTAVIO.
I will tell thee.
Fain would they have extorted from thee, son,
The sanction of thy name to villany;
Yes, with a single flourish of thy pen,
Made thee renounce thy duty and thy honor!
MAX. (rises).
Octavio!
OCTAVIO.
Patience! Seat Yourself. Much yet
Hast thou to hear from me, friend! Hast for years
Lived in incomprehensible illusion.
Before thine eyes is treason drawing out
As black a web as e'er was spun for venom:
A power of hell o'erclouds thy understanding.
I dare no longer stand in silence—dare
No longer see thee wandering on in darkness,
Nor pluck the bandage from thine eyes.
MAX.
My father!
Yet, ere thou speakest, a moment's pause of thought!
If your disclosures should appear to be
Conjectures only—and almost I fear
They will be nothing further—spare them! I
Am not in that collected mood at present,
That I could listen to them quietly.
OCTAVIO.
The deeper cause thou hast to hate this light,
The more impatient cause have I, my son,
To force it on thee. To the innocence
And wisdom of thy heart I could have trusted thee
With calm assurance—but I see the net
Preparing—and it is thy heart itself
Alarms me, for thine innocence—that secret,
[Fixing his eyes steadfastly on his son's face.
Which thou concealest, forces mine from me.
[MAX. attempts to answer, but hesitates, and casts his eyes
to the ground embarrassed.
OCTAVIO (after a pause).
Know, then, they are duping thee!—a most foul game
With thee and with us all—nay, hear me calmly—
The duke even now is playing. He assumes
The mask, as if he would forsake the army;
And in this moment makes he preparations
That army from the emperor to steal,
And carry it over to the enemy!
MAX.
That low priest's legend I know well, but did not
Expect to hear it from thy mouth.
OCTAVIO.
That mouth,
From which thou hearest it at this present moment,
Doth warrant thee that it is no priest's legend.
MAX.
How mere a maniac they supposed the duke;
What, he can meditate?—the duke?—can dream
That he can lure away full thirty thousand
Tried troops and true, all honorable soldiers,
More than a thousand noblemen among them,
From oaths, from duty, from their honor lure them,
And make them all unanimous to do
A deed that brands them scoundrels?
OCTAVIO.
Such a deed,
With such a front of infamy, the duke
No way desires—what he requires of us
Bears a far gentler appellation. Nothing
He wishes but to give the empire peace.
And so, because the emperor hates this peace,
Therefore the duke—the duke will force him to it.
All parts of the empire will he pacify,
And for his trouble will retain in payment
(What he has already in his gripe)—Bohemia!
MAX.
Has he, Octavio, merited of us,
That we—that we should think so vilely of him?
OCTAVIO.
What we would think is not the question here,
The affair speaks for itself—and clearest proofs!
Hear me, my son—'tis not unknown to thee,
In what ill credit with the court we stand.
But little dost thou know, or guess what tricks,
What base intrigues, what lying artifices,
Have been employed—for this sole end—to sow
Mutiny in the camp! All bands are loosed—
Loosed all the bands that link the officer
To his liege emperor, all that bind the soldier
Affectionately to the citizen.
Lawless he stands, and threateningly beleaguers
The state he's bound to guard. To such a height
'Tis swollen, that at this hour the emperor
Before his armies—his own armies—trembles;
Yea, in his capital, his palace, fears
The traitor's poniard, and is meditating
To hurry off and hide his tender offspring—
Not from the Swedes, not from the Lutherans—no,
From his own troops to hide and hurry them!
MAX.
Cease, cease! thou torturest, shatterest me. I know
That oft we tremble at an empty terror;
But the false phantasm brings a real misery.
OCTAVIO.
It is no phantasm. An intestine war,
Of all the most unnatural and cruel,
Will burst out into flames, if instantly
We do not fly and stifle it. The generals
Are many of them long ago won over;
The subalterns are vacillating; whole
Regiments and garrisons are vacillating.
To foreigners our strongholds are intrusted;
To that suspected Schafgotch is the whole
Force of Silesia given up: to Terzky
Five regiments, foot and horse; to Isolani,
To Illo, Kinsky, Butler, the best troops.
MAX.
Likewise to both of us.
OCTAVIO.
Because the duke
Believes he has secured us, means to lure us
Still further on by splendid promises.
To me he portions forth the princedoms, Glatz
And Sagan; and too plain I see the bait
With which he doubts not but to catch thee.
MAX.
No! no!
I tell thee, no!
OCTAVIO.
Oh, open yet thine eyes!
And to what purpose think'st thou he has called
Hither to Pilsen? to avail himself
Of our advice? Oh, when did Friedland ever
Need our advice? Be calm, and listen to me.
To sell ourselves are we called hither, and
Decline we that, to be his hostages.
Therefore doth noble Gallas stand aloof;
Thy father, too, thou wouldst not have seen here,
If higher duties had not held him fettered.
MAX.
He makes no secret of it—needs make none—
That we're called hither for his sake—he owns it.
He needs our aidance to maintain himself—
He did so much for us; and 'tis but fair
That we, too, should do somewhat now for him.