with violent emotions; tries to speak and cannot. At length
he takes his sword from the belt, and offers it to PICCOLOMINI.
OCTAVIO.
What wish you? Recollect yourself, friend.
BUTLER.
Take it.
OCTAVIO.
But to what purpose? Calm yourself.
BUTLER.
O take it!
I am no longer worthy of this sword.
OCTAVIO.
Receive it then anew, from my hands-and
Wear it with honor for the right cause ever.
BUTLER.
Perjure myself to such a gracious sovereign?
OCTAVIO.
You'll make amends. Quick! break off from the duke!
BUTLER.
Break off from him.
OCTAVIO.
What now? Bethink thyself.
BUTLER (no longer governing his emotion).
Only break off from him? He dies! he dies!
OCTAVIO.
Come after me to Frauenberg, where now
All who are loyal are assembling under
Counts Altringer and Gallas. Many others
I've brought to a remembrance of their duty
This night be sure that you escape from Pilsen.
BUTLER (strides up and down in excessive agitation, then steps up to
OCTAVIO with resolved countenance).
Count Piccolomini! dare that man speak
Of honor to you, who once broke his troth.
OCTAVIO.
He who repents so deeply of it dares.
BUTLER.
Then leave me here upon my word of honor!
OCTAVIO.
What's your design?
BUTLER.
Leave me and my regiment.
OCTAVIO.
I have full confidence in you. But tell me
What are you brooding?
BUTLER.
That the deed will tell you.
Ask me no more at present. Trust me.
Ye may trust safely. By the living God,
Ye give him over, not to his good angel!
Farewell.
[Exit BUTLER.
SERVANT (enters with a billet).
A stranger left it, and is gone.
The prince-duke's horses wait for you below.
[Exit SERVANT.
OCTAVIO (reads).
"Be sure, make haste! Your faithful Isolani."
-O that I had but left this town behind me.
To split upon a rock so near the haven!
Away! This is no longer a safe place
For me! Where can my son be tarrying!
SCENE VII.
OCTAVIO and MAX. PICCOLOMINI.
MAX. enters almost in a state of derangement, from extreme
agitation; his eyes roll wildly, his walk is unsteady, and he
appears not to observe his father, who stands at a distance,
and gazes at him with a countenance expressive of compassion.
He paces with long strides through the chamber, then stands still
again, and at last throws himself into a chair, staring vacantly
at the object directly before him.
OCTAVIO (advances to him).
I am going off, my son.
[Receiving no answer, he takes his hands
My son, farewell.
MAX.
Farewell.
OCTAVIO.
Thou wilt soon follow me?
MAX.
I follow thee?
Thy way is crooked-it is not my way.
[OCTAVIO drops his hand and starts back.
Oh, hadst thou been but simple and sincere,
Ne'er had it come to this-all had stood otherwise.
He had not done that foul and horrible deed,
The virtuous had retained their influence over him
He had not fallen into the snares of villains.
Wherefore so like a thief, and thief's accomplice
Didst creep behind him lurking for thy prey!
Oh, unblest falsehood! Mother of all evil!
Thou misery-making demon, it is thou
That sinkest us in perdition. Simple truth,
Sustainer of the world, had saved us all!
Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee!
Wallenstein has deceived me-oh, most foully!
But thou has acted not much better.
OCTAVIO.
Son
My son, ah! I forgive thy agony!
MAX. (rises and contemplates his father with looks of suspicion).
Was't possible? hadst thou the heart, my father,
Hadst thou the heart to drive it to such lengths,
With cold premeditated purpose? Thou-
Hadst thou the heart to wish to see him guilty
Rather than saved? Thou risest by his fall.
Octavio, 'twill not please me.
OCTAVIO.
God in heaven!
MAX.
Oh, woe is me! sure I have changed my nature.
How comes suspicion here-in the free soul?
Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all
Lied to me, all that I e'er loved or honored.
No, no! not all! She-she yet lives for me,
And she is true, and open as the heavens
Deceit is everywhere, hypocrisy,
Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury:
The single holy spot is our love,
The only unprofaned in human nature.
OCTAVIO.
Max.!-we will go together. 'Twill be better.
MAX.
What? ere I've taken a last parting leave,
The very last-no, never!
OCTAVIO.
Spare thyself
The pang of necessary separation.
Come with me! Come, my son!
[Attempts to take him with him.
MAX.
No! as sure as God lives, no!
OCTAVIO (more urgently).
Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.
MAX.
Command me what is human. I stay here.
OCTAVIO.
Max.! in the emperor's name I bid thee come.
MAX.
No emperor has power to prescribe
Laws to the heart; and wouldst thou wish to rob me
Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me,
Her sympathy? Must then a cruel deed
Be done with cruelty? The unalterable
Shall I perform ignobly-steal away,
With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No!
She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish,
Hear the complaints of the disparted soul,
And weep tears o'er me. Oh! the human race
Have steely souls-but she is as an angel.
From the black deadly madness of despair
Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words
Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!
OCTAVIO.
Thou wilt not tear thyself away; thou canst not.
Oh, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.
MAX.
Squander not thou thy words in vain.
The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it.
OCTAVIO (trembling, and losing all self-command).
Max.! Max.! if that most damned thing could be,
If thou-my son-my own blood-(dare I think it?)
Do sell thyself to him, the infamous,
Do stamp this brand upon our noble house,
Then shall the world behold the horrible deed,
And in unnatural combat shall the steel
Of the son trickle with the father's blood.
MAX.
Oh, hadst thou always better thought of men,
Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion,
Unholy, miserable doubt! To him
Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm
>
Who has no faith.
OCTAVIO.
And if I trust thy heart,
Will it be always in thy power to follow it?
MAX.
The heart's voice thou hast not o'erpowered-as little
Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it.
OCTAVIO.
O, Max.! I see thee never more again!
MAX.
Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.
OCTAVIO.
I go to Frauenberg-the Pappenheimers
I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Tsokana
And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee.
They love thee, and are faithful to their oath,
And will far rather fall in gallant contest
Than leave their rightful leader and their honor.
MAX.
Rely on this, I either leave my life
In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen.
OCTAVIO.
Farewell, my son!
MAX.
Farewell!
OCTAVIO.
How! not one look
Of filial love? No grasp of the hand at parting?
It is a bloody war to which we are going,
And the event uncertain and in darkness.
So used we not to part-it was not so!
Is it then true? I have a son no longer?
[MAX. falls into his arms, they hold each other for a long time
in a speechless embrace, then go away at different sides.
(The curtain drops.)
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A chamber in the house of the Duchess of Friedland.
COUNTESS TERZKY, THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN (the two latter sit
at the same table at work).
COUNTESS (watching them from the opposite side).
So you have nothing to ask me-nothing?
I have been waiting for a word from you.
And could you then endure in all this time
Not once to speak his name?
[THEKLA remaining silent, the COUNTESS rises and advances to her.
Why, how comes this?
Perhaps I am already grown superfluous,
And other ways exist, besides through me
Confess it to me, Thekla: have you seen him?
THEKLA.
To-day and yesterday I have not seen him.
COUNTESS.
And not heard from him, either? Come, be open.
THEKLA.
No Syllable.
COUNTESS.
And still you are so calm?
THEKLA.
I am.
COUNTESS.
May it please you, leave us, Lady Neubrunn.
[Exit LADY NEUBRUNN.
SCENE II.
The COUNTESS, THEKLA.
COUNTESS.
It does not please me, princess, that he holds
Himself so still, exactly at this time.
THEKLA.
Exactly at this time?
COUNTESS.
He now knows all
'Twere now the moment to declare himself.
THEKLA.
If I'm to understand you, speak less darkly.
COUNTESS.
'Twas for that purpose that I bade her leave us.
Thekla, you are no more a child. Your heart
Is no more in nonage: for you love,
And boldness dwells with love-that you have proved
Your nature moulds itself upon your father's
More than your mother's spirit. Therefore may you
Hear what were too much for her fortitude.
THEKLA.
Enough: no further preface, I entreat you.
At once, out with it! Be it what it may,
It is not possible that it should torture me
More than this introduction. What have you
To say to me? Tell me the whole, and briefly!
COUNTESS.
You'll not be frightened--
THEKLA.
Name it, I entreat you.
COUNTESS.
Lies within my power to do your father
A weighty service--
THEKLA.
Lies within my power.
COUNTESS.
Max. Piccolomini loves you. You can link him
Indissolubly to your father.
THEKLA.
I?
What need of me for that? And is he not
Already linked to him?
COUNTESS.
He was.
THEKLA.
And wherefore
Should he not be so now-not be so always?
COUNTESS.
He cleaves to the emperor too.
THEKLA.
Not more than duty
And honor may demand of him.
COUNTESS.
We ask
Proofs of his love, and not proofs of his honor.
Duty and honor!
Those are ambiguous words with many meanings.
You should interpret them for him: his love
Should be the sole definer of his honor.
THEKLA.
How?
COUNTESS.
The emperor or you must he renounce.
THEKLA.
He will accompany my father gladly
In his retirement. From himself you heard,
How much he wished to lay aside the sword.
COUNTESS.
He must not lay the sword aside, we mean;
He must unsheath it in your father's cause.
THEKLA.
He'll spend with gladness and alacrity
His life, his heart's blood in my father's cause,
If shame or injury be intended him.
COUNTESS.
You will not understand me. Well, hear then:
Your father has fallen off from the emperor,
And is about to join the enemy
With the whole soldiery--
THEKLA.
Alas, my mother!
COUNTESS.
There needs a great example to draw on
The army after him. The Piccolomini
Possess the love and reverence of the troops;
They govern all opinions, and wherever
They lead the way, none hesitate to follow.
The son secures the father to our interests-
You've much in your hands at this moment.
THEKLA.
Ah,
My miserable mother! what a death-stroke
Awaits thee! No! she never will survive it.
COUNTESS.
She will accommodate her soul to that
Which is and must be. I do know your mother:
The far-off future weighs upon her heart
With torture of anxiety; but is it
Unalterably, actually present,
She soon resigns herself, and bears it calmly.
THEKLA.
O my foreboding bosom! Even now,
E'en now 'tis here, that icy hand of horror!
And my young hope lies shuddering in its grasp;
I knew it well-no sooner had I entered,
An heavy ominous presentiment
Revealed to me that spirits of death were hovering
Over my happy fortune. But why, think I
First of myself? My mother! O my mother!
COUNTESS.
Calm yourself! Break not out in vain lamenting!
Preserve you for your father the firm friend,
And for yourself the lover, all will yet
Prove good and fortunate.
THEKLA.
Prove good! What good?
Must we not part; part ne'er to meet again?
COUNTESS.
He parts not from you! He cannot part from you.
THEKLA.
Alas, for his sore anguish! It will rend
His heart asunder.
COUNTESS.
If indeed he loves you.
>
His resolution will be speedily taken.
THEKLA.
His resolution will be speedily taken-
The Death of Wallenstein (play) Page 6