The Death of Wallenstein (play)
Page 13
BUTLER.
Mine is of harder stuff! Necessity
In her rough school hath steeled me. And this Illo,
And Terzky likewise, they must not survive him.
GORDON.
I feel no pang for these. Their own bad hearts
Impelled them, not the influence of the stars.
'Twas they who strewed the seeds of evil passions
In his calm breast, and with officious villany
Watered and nursed the poisonous plants. May they
Receive their earnests to the uttermost mite!
BUTLER.
And their death shall precede his!
We meant to have taken them alive this evening
Amid the merrymaking of a feast,
And keep them prisoners in the citadel,
But this makes shorter work. I go this instant
To give the necessary orders.
SCENE VII.
To these enter ILLO and TERZKY.
TERZKY.
Our luck is on the turn. To-morrow come
The Swedes-twelve thousand gallant warriors, Illo!
Then straightwise for Vienna. Cheerily, friend!
What! meet such news with such a moody face?
ILLO.
It lies with us at present to prescribe
Laws, and take vengeance on those worthless traitors
Those skulking cowards that deserted us;
One has already done his bitter penance,
The Piccolomini: be his the fate
Of all who wish us evil! This flies sure
To the old man's heart; he has his whole life long
Fretted and toiled to raise his ancient house
From a count's title to the name of prince;
And now must seek a grave for his only son.
BUTLER.
'Twas pity, though! A youth of such heroic
And gentle temperament! The duke himself,
'Twas easily seen, how near it went to his heart.
ILLO.
Hark ye, old friend! That is the very point
That never pleased me in our general-
He ever gave the preference to the Italians.
Yea, at this very moment, by my soul!
He'd gladly see us all dead ten times over,
Could he thereby recall his friend to life.
TERZKY.
Hush, hush! Let the dead rest! This evening's business
Is, who can fairly drink the other down-
Your regiment, Illo! gives the entertainment.
Come! we will keep a merry carnival
The night for once be day, and 'mid full glasses
Will we expect the Swedish avant-garde.
ILLO.
Yes, let us be of good cheer for to-day,
For there's hot work before us, friends! This sword
Shall have no rest till it is bathed to the hilt
In Austrian blood.
GORDON.
Shame, shame! what talk is this,
My lord field-marshal? Wherefore foam you so
Against your emperor?
BUTLER.
Hope not too much
From this first victory. Bethink you, sirs!
How rapidly the wheel of fortune turns;
The emperor still is formidably strong.
ILLO.
The emperor has soldiers, no commander,
For this King Ferdinand of Hungary
Is but a tyro. Gallas? He's no luck,
And was of old the ruiner of armies.
And then this viper, this Octavio,
Is excellent at stabbing in the back,
But ne'er meets Friedland in the open field.
TERZKY.
Trust me, my friends, it cannot but succeed;
Fortune, we know, can ne'er forsake the duke!-
And only under Wallenstein can Austria
Be conqueror.
ILLO.
The duke will soon assemble
A mighty army: all come crowding, streaming
To banners, dedicate by destiny
To fame, and prosperous fortune. I behold
Old times come back again! he will become
Once more the mighty lord which he has been.
How will the fools, who've how deserted him,
Look then? I can't but laugh to think of them,
For lands will he present to all his friends,
And like a king and emperor reward
True services; but we've the nearest claims.
[To GORDON.
You will not be forgotten, governor!
He'll take from you this nest, and bid you shine
In higher station: your fidelity
Well merits it.
GORDON.
I am content already,
And wish to climb no higher; where great height is,
The fall must needy be great. "Great height, great depth."
ILLO.
Here you have no more business, for to-morrow
The Swedes will take possession of the citadel.
Come, Terzky, it is supper-time. What think you?
Nay, shall we have the town illuminated
In honor of the Swede? And who refuses
To do it is a Spaniard and a traitor.
TERZKY.
Nay! nay! not that, it will not please the duke--
ILLO.
What; we are masters here; no soul shall dare
Avow himself imperial where we've the rule.
Gordon! good-night, and for the last time take
A fair leave of the place. Send out patrols
To make secure, the watchword may be altered.
At the stroke of ten deliver in the keys
To the duke himself, and then you've quit forever
Your wardship of the gates, for on to-morrow
The Swedes will take possession of the citadel.
TERZKY (as he is going, to BUTLER).
You come, though, to the castle?
BUTLER.
At the right time.
[Exeunt TERZKY and ILLO.
SCENE VIII.
GORDON and BUTLER.
GORDON (looking after them).
Unhappy men! How free from all foreboding
They rush into the outspread net of murder
In the blind drunkenness of victory;
I have no pity for their fate. This Illo,
This overflowing and foolhardy villain,
That would fain bathe himself in his emperor's blood.
BUTLER.
Do as he ordered you. Send round patrols,
Take measures for the citadel's security;
When they are within I close the castle-gate
That nothing may transpire.
GORDON (with earnest anxiety).
Oh! haste not so!
Nay, stop; first tell me--
BUTLER.
You have heard already,
To-morrow to the Swedes belongs. This night
Alone is ours. They make good expedition.
But we will make still greater. Fare you well.
GORDON.
Ah! your looks tell me nothing good. Nay, Butler,
I pray you promise me!
BUTLER.
The sun has set;
A fateful evening doth descend upon us,
And brings on their long night! Their evil stars
Deliver them unarmed into our hands,
And from their drunken dream of golden fortunes
The dagger at their hearts shall rouse them. Well,
The duke was ever a great calculator;
His fellow-men were figures on his chess-board
To move and station, as his game required.
Other men's honor, dignity, good name,
Did he shift like pawns, and made no conscience of
Still calculating, calculating still;
And yet at last his calculation proves
Erroneous; the whole game i
s lost; and low!
His own life will be found among the forfeits.
GORDON.
Oh, think not of his errors now! remember
His greatness, his munificence; think on all
The lovely features of his character,
On all the noble exploits of his life,
And let them, like an angel's arm, unseen,
Arrest the lifted sword.
BUTLER.
It is too late.
I suffer not myself to feel compassion,
Dark thoughts and bloody are my duty now.
[Grasping GORDON's hand.
Gordon! 'tis not my hatred (I pretend not
To love the duke, and have no cause to love him).
Yet 'tis not now my hatred that impels me
To be his murderer. 'Tis his evil fate.
Hostile occurrences of many events
Control and subjugate me to the office.
In vain the human being meditates
Free action. He is but the wire-worked [8] puppet
Of the blind Power, which, out of its own choice,
Creates for him a dread necessity.
What too would it avail him if there were
A something pleading for him in my heart-
Still I must kill him.
GORDON.
If your heart speak to you
Follow its impulse. 'Tis the voice of God.
Think you your fortunes will grow prosperous
Bedewed with blood-his blood? Believe it not!
BUTLER.
You know not. Ask not! Wherefore should it happen
That the Swedes gained the victory, and hasten
With such forced marches hitherwards? Fain would I
Have given him to the emperor's mercy. Gordon!
I do not wish his blood,-but I must ransom
The honor of my word,-it lies in pledge-
And he must die, or--
[Passionately grasping GORDON's hand.
Listen, then, and know
I am dishonored if the duke escape us.
GORDON.
Oh! to save such a man--
BUTLER.
What!
GORDON.
It is worth
A sacrifice. Come, friend! Be noble-minded!
Our own heart, and not other men's opinions,
Forms our true honor.
BUTLER (with a cold and haughty air).
He is a great lord,
This duke, and I am of but mean importance.
This is what you would say! Wherein concerns it
The world at large, you mean to hint to me,
Whether the man of low extraction keeps
Or blemishes his honor-
So that the man of princely rank be saved?
We all do stamp our value on ourselves:
The price we challenge for ourselves is given us.
There does not live on earth the man so stationed
That I despise myself compared with him.
Man is made great or little by his own will;
Because I am true to mine therefore he dies!
GORDON.
I am endeavoring to move a rock.
Thou hadst a mother, yet no human feelings.
I cannot hinder you, but may some God
Rescue him from you!
[Exit GORDON.
BUTLER [9] (alone).
I treasured my good name all my life long;
The duke has cheated me of life's best jewel,
So that I blush before this poor weak Gordon!
He prizes above all his fealty;
His conscious soul accuses him of nothing;
In opposition to his own soft heart
He subjugates himself to an iron duty.
Me in a weaker moment passion warped;
I stand beside him, and must feel myself
The worst man of the two. What though the world
Is ignorant of my purposed treason, yet
One man does know it, and can prove it, too-
High-minded Piccolomini!
There lives the man who can dishonor me!
This ignominy blood alone can cleanse!
Duke Friedland, thou or I. Into my own hands
Fortune delivers me. The dearest thing a man has is himself.
SCENE IX.
[A gothic and gloomy apartment at the DUCHESS FRIEDLAND's.
THEKLA on a seat, pale, her eyes closed. The DUCHESS and LADY
NEUBRUNN busied about her. WALLENSTEIN and the COUNTESS in
conversation.
WALLENSTEIN.
How knew she it so soon?
COUNTESS.
She seems to have
Foreboded some misfortune. The report
Of an engagement, in which had fallen
A colonel of the imperial army, frightened her.
I saw it instantly. She flew to meet
The Swedish courier, and with sudden questioning,
Soon wrested from him the disastrous secret.
Too late we missed her, hastened after her,
We found her lying in his arms, all pale,
And in a swoon.
WALLENSTEIN.
A heavy, heavy blow!
And she so unprepared! Poor child! how is it?
[Turning to the DUCHESS.
Is she coming to herself?
DUCHESS.
Her eyes are opening--
COUNTESS.
She lives!
THEKLA (looking around her).
Where am I?
WALLENSTEIN (steps to her, raising her up in his arms).
Come, cheerly, Thekla! be my own brave girl!
See, there's thy loving mother. Thou art in
Thy father's arms.
THEKLA (standing up).
Where is he? Is he gone?
DUCHESS.
Who gone, my daughter?
THEKLA.
He-the man who uttered
That word of misery.
DUCHESS.
Oh, think not of it!
My Thekla!
WALLENSTEIN.
Give her sorrow leave to talk!
Let her complain-mingle your tears with hers,
For she hath suffered a deep anguish; but
She'll rise superior to it, for my Thekla
Hath all her father's unsubdued heart.
THEKLA.
I am not ill. See, I have power to stand.
Why does my mother weep? Have I alarmed her?
It is gone by-I recollect myself.
[She casts her eyes round the room, as seeking some one.
Where is he? Please you, do not hide him from me.
You see I have strength enough: now I will hear him.
DUCHESS.
No; never shall this messenger of evil
Enter again into thy presence, Thekla!
THEKLA.
My father--
WALLENSTEIN.
Dearest daughter!
THEKLA.
I'm not weak.
Shortly I shall be quite myself again.
You'll grant me one request?
WALLENSTEIN.
Name it, my daughter.
THEKLA.
Permit the stranger to be called to me,
And grant me leave, that by myself I may
Hear his report and question him.
DUCHESS.
No, never!
COUNTESS.
'Tis not advisable-assent not to it.
WALLENSTEIN.
Hush! Wherefore wouldst thou speak with him, my daughter?
THEKLA.
Knowing the whole, I shall be more collected;
I will not be deceived. My mother wishes
Only to spare me. I will not be spared-
The worst is said already: I can hear
Nothing of deeper anguish!
COUNTESS and DUCHESS.
Do it not.
THEKLA.
My heart betrayed me in the stranger's presence:
He was a witness of my weakness, yea,
I sank into his arms; and that has shamed me.
I must replace myself in his esteem,
And I must speak with him, perforce, that he,
The stranger, may not think ungently of me.
WALLENSTEIN.
I see she is in the right, and am inclined
To grant her this request of hers. Go, call him.
[LADY NEUBRUNN goes to call him.
DUCHESS.
But I, thy mother, will be present--
THEKLA.
'Twere
More pleasing to me if alone I saw him;
Trust me, I shall behave myself the more
Collectedly.
WALLENSTEIN.
Permit her her own will.
Leave her alone with him: for there are sorrows,
Where of necessity the soul must be
Its own support. A strong heart will rely
On its own strength alone. In her own bosom,