Scene II

Before91Butler (shocked and confused).1817,1828,1829.aught1800,1828,1829.

[93]our worthy friend1800,1828,1829.

our worthy friend1800,1828,1829.

Before95Butler (shaking his head significantly).1817,1828,1829.

EnterOctavio PiccolominiandQuestenberg.

Octavio.Ay, ay! more still! Still more new visitors!Acknowledge, friend! that never was a camp,Which held at once so many heads of heroes.Welcome, Count Isolani!Isolani.My noble brother,Even now am I arrived; it had been else my duty—5Octavio.And Colonel Butler—trust me, I rejoiceThus to renew acquaintance with a manWhose worth and services I know and honour.See, see, my friend![604]There might we place at once before our eyes10The sum of war's whole trade and mystery—[ToQuestenberg, presentingButlerandIsolaniat the same time to him.These two the total sum—Strength and Dispatch.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,15The long-tried friend and patron of all soldiers,We honour in this noble visitor.Illo.'Tis not the first time, noble Minister,You have shewn our camp this honour.Questenberg.Once before,I stood before these colours.20Illo.Perchance too you remember where that was.It was at Znäim[604:1]in Moravia, whereYou did present yourself upon the partOf the Emperor, to supplicate our DukeThat he would straight assume the chief command.25Questenberg.To supplicate? Nay, noble 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 Tilly30Had suffered total rout upon the Lech.Bavaria lay all open to the enemy,Whom there was nothing to delay from pressingOnwards into the very heart of Austria.At that time you and Werdenberg appeared35Before our General, storming him with prayers,And menacing the Emperor's displeasure,Unless he took compassion on this wretchedness.Isolani.Yes, yes, 'tis comprehensible enough,Wherefore with your commission of to-day40[605]You were not all too willing to rememberYour former one.Questenberg.Why not, Count Isolan?No contradiction sure exists between them.It was the urgent business of that time45To snatch Bavaria from her enemy's hand;And my commission of to-day instructs meTo free her from her good friends and protectors.Illo.A worthy office! After with our bloodWe have wrested this Bohemia from the Saxon,50To 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 sufferOnly a change of evils, it must beFreed from the scourge alike of friend and foe.55Illo.What? 'Twas a favourable year; the BoorsCan 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.60Questenberg.And is the poorer by even so many subjects.Isolani.Poh! We are all his subjects.Questenberg.Yet with a difference, General! The one fillWith profitable industry the purse,The others are well skilled to empty it.65The sword has made the Emperor poor; the ploughMust reinvigorate his resources.Isolani.Sure!Times are not yet so bad. Methinks I see[Examining with his eye the dress and ornaments ofQuestenberg.Good store of gold that still remains uncoined.Questenberg.Thank Heaven! that means have been found out to hide70Some 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 favour, those court harpies,75Who fatten on the wrecks of citizensDriven from their house and home—who reap no harvests[606]Save in the general calamity—Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mockThe desolation of their country—these,80Let these, and such as these, support the war,The fatal war, which they alone enkindled!Butler.And those state-parasites, who have their feetSo constantly beneath the Emperor's table,Who cannot let a benefice fall, but they85Snap at it with dog's hunger—they, forsooth,Would pare the soldier's 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,90How from one antechamber to anotherThey dragged me on, and left me by the hourTo kick my heels among a crowd of simperingFeast-fattened slaves, as if I had come thitherA mendicant suitor for the crumbs of favour95That fall beneath their tables. And, at last,Whom should they send me but a Capuchin!Straight I began to muster up my sinsFor absolution—but no such luck for me!This was the man, this Capuchin, with whom100I was to treat concerning the army horses:And I was forced at last to quit the field,The business unaccomplished. AfterwardsThe Duke procured me in three days, what ICould not obtain in thirty at Vienna.105Questenberg.Yes, yes! your travelling bills soon found their way to us:Too well I know we have still accounts to settle.Illo.War is a violent trade; one cannot alwaysFinish one's work by soft means; every trifleMust not be blackened into sacrilege.110If we should wait till you, in solemn council,With due deliberation had selectedThe smallest out of four-and-twenty evils,I'faith, we should wait long.—'Dash! and through with it!'—That's the better watch-word.115Then after come what may come. 'Tis man's nature[607]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 us120The troublesome task of choosing.Butler.Yes, the DukeCares 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.125Isolani.And therefore thrusts he us into the desertsAs beasts of prey, that so he may preserveHis dear sheep fattening in his fields at home.Questenberg.Count, this comparison you make, not I.Butler.Why, were we all the Court supposes us,130'Twere dangerous, sure, to give us liberty.Questenberg.You have taken liberty—it was not given you.And therefore it becomes an urgent dutyTo rein it in with curbs.Octavio.My noble friend,This is no more than a remembrancing135That you are now in camp, and among warriors.The soldier's boldnessconstituteshis freedom.Could he act daringly, unless he daredTalk even so? One runs into the other.The boldness of this worthy officer,[pointing toButler.140Which now has but mistaken in its mark,Preserved, when nought but boldness could preserve it,To the Emperor his capital city, Prague,In a most formidable mutinyOf the whole garrison.[Military music at a distance.145Hah! here they come!Illo.The sentries are saluting them: this signalAnnounces the arrival of the Duchess.Octavio.Then my son Max too has returned. 'Twas heFetched and attended them from Carnthen hither.150Isolani (to Illo).Shall we not go in company to greet them?

Octavio.Ay, ay! more still! Still more new visitors!Acknowledge, friend! that never was a camp,Which held at once so many heads of heroes.Welcome, Count Isolani!

Isolani.My noble brother,Even now am I arrived; it had been else my duty—5

Octavio.And Colonel Butler—trust me, I rejoiceThus to renew acquaintance with a manWhose worth and services I know and honour.See, see, my friend![604]There might we place at once before our eyes10The sum of war's whole trade and mystery—[ToQuestenberg, presentingButlerandIsolaniat the same time to him.These two the total sum—Strength and Dispatch.

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,15The long-tried friend and patron of all soldiers,We honour in this noble visitor.

Illo.'Tis not the first time, noble Minister,You have shewn our camp this honour.

Questenberg.Once before,I stood before these colours.20

Illo.Perchance too you remember where that was.It was at Znäim[604:1]in Moravia, whereYou did present yourself upon the partOf the Emperor, to supplicate our DukeThat he would straight assume the chief command.25

Questenberg.To supplicate? Nay, noble 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 Tilly30Had suffered total rout upon the Lech.Bavaria lay all open to the enemy,Whom there was nothing to delay from pressingOnwards into the very heart of Austria.At that time you and Werdenberg appeared35Before our General, storming him with prayers,And menacing the Emperor's displeasure,Unless he took compassion on this wretchedness.

Isolani.Yes, yes, 'tis comprehensible enough,Wherefore with your commission of to-day40[605]You were not all too willing to rememberYour former one.

Questenberg.Why not, Count Isolan?No contradiction sure exists between them.It was the urgent business of that time45To snatch Bavaria from her enemy's hand;And my commission of to-day instructs meTo free her from her good friends and protectors.

Illo.A worthy office! After with our bloodWe have wrested this Bohemia from the Saxon,50To 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 sufferOnly a change of evils, it must beFreed from the scourge alike of friend and foe.55

Illo.What? 'Twas a favourable year; the BoorsCan 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.60

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 fillWith profitable industry the purse,The others are well skilled to empty it.65The sword has made the Emperor poor; the ploughMust reinvigorate his resources.

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

Questenberg.Thank Heaven! that means have been found out to hide70Some 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 favour, those court harpies,75Who fatten on the wrecks of citizensDriven from their house and home—who reap no harvests[606]Save in the general calamity—Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mockThe desolation of their country—these,80Let these, and such as these, support the war,The fatal war, which they alone enkindled!

Butler.And those state-parasites, who have their feetSo constantly beneath the Emperor's table,Who cannot let a benefice fall, but they85Snap at it with dog's hunger—they, forsooth,Would pare the soldier's 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,90How from one antechamber to anotherThey dragged me on, and left me by the hourTo kick my heels among a crowd of simperingFeast-fattened slaves, as if I had come thitherA mendicant suitor for the crumbs of favour95That fall beneath their tables. And, at last,Whom should they send me but a Capuchin!Straight I began to muster up my sinsFor absolution—but no such luck for me!This was the man, this Capuchin, with whom100I was to treat concerning the army horses:And I was forced at last to quit the field,The business unaccomplished. AfterwardsThe Duke procured me in three days, what ICould not obtain in thirty at Vienna.105

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 a violent trade; one cannot alwaysFinish one's work by soft means; every trifleMust not be blackened into sacrilege.110If we should wait till you, in solemn council,With due deliberation had selectedThe smallest out of four-and-twenty evils,I'faith, we should wait long.—'Dash! and through with it!'—That's the better watch-word.115Then after come what may come. 'Tis man's nature[607]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 us120The troublesome task of choosing.

Butler.Yes, the DukeCares 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.125

Isolani.And therefore thrusts he us into the desertsAs beasts of prey, that so he may preserveHis dear sheep fattening in his fields at home.

Questenberg.Count, this comparison you make, not I.

Butler.Why, were we all the Court supposes us,130'Twere dangerous, sure, to give us liberty.

Questenberg.You have taken liberty—it was not given you.And therefore it becomes an urgent dutyTo rein it in with curbs.

Octavio.My noble friend,This is no more than a remembrancing135That you are now in camp, and among warriors.The soldier's boldnessconstituteshis freedom.Could he act daringly, unless he daredTalk even so? One runs into the other.The boldness of this worthy officer,[pointing toButler.140Which now has but mistaken in its mark,Preserved, when nought but boldness could preserve it,To the Emperor his capital city, Prague,In a most formidable mutinyOf the whole garrison.[Military music at a distance.145Hah! here they come!

Illo.The sentries are saluting them: this signalAnnounces the arrival of the Duchess.

Octavio.Then my son Max too has returned. 'Twas heFetched and attended them from Carnthen hither.150

Isolani (to Illo).Shall we not go in company to greet them?

Illo.Well, let us go.—Ho! Colonel Butler, come.[ToOctavio.You'll not forget, that yet ere noon we meetThe noble Envoy at the General's palace.

[Exeunt all butQuestenbergandOctavio.

[604:1]A town not far from the Mine-mountains, on the high road from Vienna to Prague.

Before1Octavio (still in the distance).1817,1828,1829.

After4[Approaching nearer.1817,1828,1829.

[17]We honour in this noble visitor.[Universal silence.Illo (moving towards Questenberg).'Tis not, &c.1817,1828,1829.

We honour in this noble visitor.[Universal silence.Illo (moving towards Questenberg).'Tis not, &c.

We honour in this noble visitor.[Universal silence.

Illo (moving towards Questenberg).'Tis not, &c.

1817,1828,1829.

[21]where1800,1828,1829.

where1800,1828,1829.

[26]supplicate1800,1828,1829.

supplicate1800,1828,1829.

[30]compel1800,1828,1829.

compel1800,1828,1829.

Before39Isolani (steps up to them).1817,1828,1829.

[51]out1800,1828,1829.

out1800,1828,1829.

[58]you1800,1828,1829.

you1800,1828,1829.

[80]these1800.

these1800.

[81]these1800.

these1800.

[87]pare1800.

pare1800.

[99]me1800,1828,1829.

me1800,1828,1829.

[100]This was, &c.1800.

This was, &c.1800.

[120]does1800,1828,1829.

does1800,1828,1829.

[124]His1800,1828,1829.

His1800,1828,1829.

Before129Questenberg (with a sneer).1817,1828,1829.

[134]Octavio (interposing and addressing Questenberg).1817,1828,1829.

Octavio (interposing and addressing Questenberg).1817,1828,1829.

[138]act1800,1828,1829.

act1800,1828,1829.

Before149Octavio (to Questenberg).1817,1828,1829.

[149]Max1800.

Max1800.

QuestenbergandOctavio.

Questenberg.What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio!What sentiments! what fierce, uncurbed defiance!And were this spirit universal—Octavio.Hm!You are now acquainted with three-fourths of the army.Questenberg.Where must we seek then for a second host5To have the custody of this? That IlloThinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And thenThis Butler too—he cannot even concealThe passionate workings of his ill intentions.Octavio.Quickness of temper—irritated pride;10'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler.I know a spell that will soon dispossessThe evil spirit in him.Questenberg.Friend, friend!O! this is worse, far worse, than we had sufferedOurselves to dream of at Vienna. There15We saw it only with a courtier's eyes,Eyes dazzled by the splendour 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.20Here 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 campStrikes my hopes prostrate.Octavio.Now you see yourselfOf what a perilous kind the office is,25Which you deliver to me from the Court.The least suspicion of the GeneralCosts me my freedom and my life, and wouldBut hasten his most desperate enterprise.

Questenberg.What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio!What sentiments! what fierce, uncurbed defiance!And were this spirit universal—

Octavio.Hm!You are now acquainted with three-fourths of the army.

Questenberg.Where must we seek then for a second host5To have the custody of this? That IlloThinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And thenThis Butler too—he cannot even concealThe passionate workings of his ill intentions.

Octavio.Quickness of temper—irritated pride;10'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler.I know a spell that will soon dispossessThe evil spirit in him.

Questenberg.Friend, friend!O! this is worse, far worse, than we had sufferedOurselves to dream of at Vienna. There15We saw it only with a courtier's eyes,Eyes dazzled by the splendour 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.20Here 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 campStrikes my hopes prostrate.

Octavio.Now you see yourselfOf what a perilous kind the office is,25Which you deliver to me from the Court.The least suspicion of the GeneralCosts me my freedom and my life, and wouldBut hasten his most desperate enterprise.

Questenberg.Where was our reason sleeping when we trusted30This madman with the sword, and placed such powerIn such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse,Flatly refuse, to obey the Imperial orders.Friend, he can do 't, and what he can, he will.And then the impunity of his defiance—35O! what a proclamation of our weakness!Octavio.D'ye think too, he has brought his wife and daughterWithout a purpose hither? Here in camp!And at the very point of time, in whichWe're arming for the war? That he has taken40These, the last pledges of his loyalty,Away from out the Emperor's domains—This is no doubtful token of the nearnessOf some eruption!Questenberg.How shall we hold footingBeneath this tempest, which collects itself45And threats us from all quarters? The enemyOf the empire on our borders, now alreadyThe master of the Danube, and still farther,And farther still, extending every hour!In our interior the alarum-bells50Of insurrection—peasantry in arms——All orders discontented—and the army,Just in the moment of our expectationOf aidance from it—lo! this very armySeduced, run wild, lost to all discipline,55Loosened, and rent asunder from the stateAnd from their sovereign, the blind instrumentOf the most daring of mankind, a weaponOf fearful power, which at his will he wields!Octavio.Nay, nay, friend! let us not despair too soon,60Men's words are ever bolder than their deeds:And many a resolute, who now appearsMade up to all extremes, will, on a suddenFind in his breast a heart he knew not of,Let but a single honest man speak out65The true name of his crime! Remember, too,We stand not yet so wholly unprotected.Counts Altringer and Galas have maintained[610]Their little army faithful to its duty,And daily it becomes more numerous.70Nor can he take us by surprise: you know,I hold him all-encompassed by my listeners.Whate'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 quite75Incomprehensible, that he detects notThe foe so near!Octavio.Beware, you do not think,That I by lying arts, and complaisantHypocrisy, have skulked into his graces:Or with the sustenance of smooth professions80Nourish his all-confiding friendship! No—Compelled alike by prudence, and that dutyWhich we all owe our country, and our sovereign,To hide my genuine feelings from him, yetNe'er have I duped him with base counterfeits!85Questenberg.It is the visible ordinance of heaven.Octavio.I know not what it is that so attractsAnd links him both to me and to my son.Comrades and friends we always were—long habit,Adventurous deeds performed in company,90And all those many and various incidentsWhich store a soldier's memory with affections,Had bound us long and early to each other—Yet I can name the day, when all at onceHis heart rose on me, and his confidence95Shot out in sudden growth. It was the morningBefore the memorable fight at Lützner.Urged by an ugly dream, I sought him out,To press him to accept another charger.At distance from the tents, beneath a tree,100I 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 manAstounded; thereon fell upon my neck,And manifested to me an emotion105That far outstripped the worth of that small service.Since then his confidence has followed meWith the same pace that mine has fled from him.

Octavio.D'ye think too, he has brought his wife and daughterWithout a purpose hither? Here in camp!And at the very point of time, in whichWe're arming for the war? That he has taken40These, the last pledges of his loyalty,Away from out the Emperor's domains—This is no doubtful token of the nearnessOf some eruption!

Questenberg.How shall we hold footingBeneath this tempest, which collects itself45And threats us from all quarters? The enemyOf the empire on our borders, now alreadyThe master of the Danube, and still farther,And farther still, extending every hour!In our interior the alarum-bells50Of insurrection—peasantry in arms——All orders discontented—and the army,Just in the moment of our expectationOf aidance from it—lo! this very armySeduced, run wild, lost to all discipline,55Loosened, and rent asunder from the stateAnd from their sovereign, the blind instrumentOf the most daring of mankind, a weaponOf fearful power, which at his will he wields!

Octavio.Nay, nay, friend! let us not despair too soon,60Men's words are ever bolder than their deeds:And many a resolute, who now appearsMade up to all extremes, will, on a suddenFind in his breast a heart he knew not of,Let but a single honest man speak out65The true name of his crime! Remember, too,We stand not yet so wholly unprotected.Counts Altringer and Galas have maintained[610]Their little army faithful to its duty,And daily it becomes more numerous.70Nor can he take us by surprise: you know,I hold him all-encompassed by my listeners.Whate'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 quite75Incomprehensible, that he detects notThe foe so near!

Octavio.Beware, you do not think,That I by lying arts, and complaisantHypocrisy, have skulked into his graces:Or with the sustenance of smooth professions80Nourish his all-confiding friendship! No—Compelled alike by prudence, and that dutyWhich we all owe our country, and our sovereign,To hide my genuine feelings from him, yetNe'er have I duped him with base counterfeits!85

Questenberg.It is the visible ordinance of heaven.

Octavio.I know not what it is that so attractsAnd links him both to me and to my son.Comrades and friends we always were—long habit,Adventurous deeds performed in company,90And all those many and various incidentsWhich store a soldier's memory with affections,Had bound us long and early to each other—Yet I can name the day, when all at onceHis heart rose on me, and his confidence95Shot out in sudden growth. It was the morningBefore the memorable fight at Lützner.Urged by an ugly dream, I sought him out,To press him to accept another charger.At distance from the tents, beneath a tree,100I 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 manAstounded; thereon fell upon my neck,And manifested to me an emotion105That far outstripped the worth of that small service.Since then his confidence has followed meWith 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 hands110His lot has placed him in?Octavio.I must perforceLeave him in wardship to his innocence.His young and open soul—dissimulationIs foreign to its habits! IgnoranceAlone can keep alive the cheerful air,115The unembarrassed sense and light free spirit,That make the Duke secure.Questenberg.My honoured friend! most highly do I deemOf Colonel Piccolomini—yet—if——Reflect a little——Octavio.I must venture it.120Hush!—There he comes!

Questenberg.You lead your son into the secret?

Octavio.No!

Questenberg.What? and not warn him either what bad hands110His lot has placed him in?

Octavio.I must perforceLeave him in wardship to his innocence.His young and open soul—dissimulationIs foreign to its habits! IgnoranceAlone can keep alive the cheerful air,115The unembarrassed sense and light free spirit,That make the Duke secure.

Questenberg.My honoured friend! most highly do I deemOf Colonel Piccolomini—yet—if——Reflect a little——

Octavio.I must venture it.120Hush!—There he comes!

Before1Questenberg (with signs of aversion and astonishment).1817,1828,1829.

[13]him1800,1828,1829.Questenberg (walking up and down in evident disquiet).Friend, &c.1817,1828,1829.

him1800,1828,1829.

Questenberg (walking up and down in evident disquiet).Friend, &c.1817,1828,1829.

[34]can1800,1828,1829.

can1800,1828,1829.

[59]he1800,1828,1829.

he1800,1828,1829.

[64]knew] wot1800,1828,1829.

knew] wot1800,1828,1829.

[84]genuine1800.

genuine1800.

[95]rose1800,1828,1829.

rose1800,1828,1829.

[118]Questenberg (anxiously).My honoured, &c.1800,1828,1829.

Questenberg (anxiously).My honoured, &c.1800,1828,1829.

Max Piccolomini, Octavio Piccolomini, Questenberg.

Max.Ha! there he is himself. Welcome, my father!You are engaged, I see. I'll not disturb you.Octavio.How, Max? Look closer at this visitor;Attention, Max, an old friend merits—ReverenceBelongs of right to the envoy of your sovereign.5Max.Von Questenberg!—Welcome—if you bring with youAught good to our head quarters.Questenberg (seizing his hand).Nay, draw notYour hand away, Count Piccolomini!Not on mine own account alone I seized it,And nothing common will I say therewith.10[Taking the hands of both.Octavio—Max Piccolomini!O saviour names, and full of happy omen!Ne'er will her prosperous genius turn from Austria,While two such stars, with blessed influencesBeaming protection, shine above her hosts.15Max.Heh!—Noble minister! You miss your part.[612]You came 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.He comes from court, where people are not quite20So well contented with the duke, as here.Max.What now have they contrived to find out in him?That he alone determines for himselfWhat he himself alone doth understand?Well, therein he does right, and will persist in 't.25Heaven never meant him for that passive thingThat can be struck and hammered out to suitAnother's taste and fancy. He'll not danceTo every tune of every minister.It goes against his nature—he can't do it.30He is possessed by a commanding spirit,And his too is the station of command.And well for us it is so! There existFew fit to rule themselves, but few that useTheir intellects intelligently.—Then35Well 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.40Now such a man is Wallenstein; and ifAnother better suits the court—no otherBut such a one as he can serve the army.Questenberg.The army? Doubtless!Octavio (aside).Hush! suppress it, friend!Unless some end were answered by the utterance.—45Of him there you'll make nothing.Max.In their distressThey call a spirit up, and when he comes,Straight their flesh creeps and quivers, and they dread himMore than the ills for which they called him up.The uncommon, the sublime, must seem and be50Like things of every day.—But in the field,Aye, there the Present Being makes itself felt.The personal must command, the actual eye[613]Examine. If to be the chieftain asksAll that is great in nature, let it be55Likewise his privilege to move and actIn all the correspondencies of greatness.The oracle within him, that which lives,He must invoke and question—not dead books,Not ordinances, not mould-rotted papers.60Octavio.My son! of those old narrow ordinancesLet us not hold too lightly. They are weightsOf priceless value, which oppressed mankindTied to the volatile will of their oppressors.For always formidable was the league65And partnership of free power with free will.The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds,Is yet no devious way. Straight forward goesThe lightning's path, and straight the fearful pathOf the cannon-ball. Direct it flies and rapid,70Shattering 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 followThe river's course, the valley's playful windings,Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines,75Honouring the holy bounds of property!And thus secure, though late, leads to its end.Questenberg.O 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!80A war of fifteen yearsHath been thy education and thy school.Peace hast thou never witnessed! There existsA higher than the warrior's excellence.In war itself war is no ultimate purpose.85The vast and sudden deeds of violence,Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment,These are not they, my son, that generateThe calm, the blissful, and the enduring mighty!Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect!90Builds his light town of canvas, and at onceThe whole scene moves and bustles momently,With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrelThe motley market fills; the roads, the streams[614]Are crowded with new freights, trade stirs and hurries!95But on some morrow morn, all suddenly,The tents drop down, the horde renews its march.Dreary, and solitary as a church-yardThe meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie,And the year's harvest is gone utterly.100Max.O let the Emperor make peace, my father!Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurelFor the first violet[614:1]of the leafless spring,Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed!Octavio.What ails thee? What so moves thee all at once?105Max.Peace have I ne'er beheld? I have beheld it.From thence am I come hither: O! that sight,It glimmers still before me, like some landscapeLeft in the distance,—some delicious landscape!My road conducted me through countries where110The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my father—My venerable father, life has charmsWhich we have ne'er experienced. We have beenBut voyaging along its barren coasts,Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates,115That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship,House on the wild sea with wild usages,Nor know aught of the main land, but the baysWhere safeliest they may venture a thieves' landing.Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals120Of fair and exquisite, O! nothing, nothing,Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.Octavio.And so your journey has revealed this to you?Max.'Twas the first leisure of my life. O tell me,What is the meed and purpose of the toil,125The painful toil, which robbed me of my youth,Left me a heart unsoul'd and solitary,A spirit uninformed, unornamented.For the camp's stir and crowd and ceaseless larum,The neighing war-horse, the air-shattering trumpet,130[615]The unvaried, still-returning hour of duty,Word of command, and exercise of arms—There's nothing here, there's nothing in all thisTo satisfy the heart, the gasping heart!Mere bustling nothingness, where the soul is not—135This cannot be the sole felicity,These cannot be man's best and only pleasures.Octavio.Much hast thou learnt, my son, in this short journey.Max.O! day thrice lovely! when at length the soldierReturns home into life; when he becomes140A fellow-man among his fellow-men.The colours are unfurled, the cavalcadeMarshals, and now the buzz is hushed, and hark!Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, home!The caps and helmets are all garlanded145With green boughs, the last plundering of the fields.The city gates fly open of themselves,They need no longer the petard to tear them.The ramparts are all filled with men and women,With peaceful men and women, that send onwards150Kisses and welcomings upon the air,Which they make breezy with affectionate gestures.From all the towers rings out the merry peal,The joyous vespers of a bloody day.O happy man, O fortunate! for whom155The well-known door, the faithful arms are open,The faithful tender arms with mute embracing.Questenberg.O! that you should speakOf such a distant, distant time, and notOf the to-morrow, not of this to-day.160Max.Where lies the fault but on you in Vienna?I will deal openly with you, Questenberg.Just now, as first I saw you standing here,(I'll own it to you freely) indignationCrowded and pressed my inmost soul together.165'Tis ye that hinder peace, ye!—and the warrior,It is the warrior that must force it from you.Ye fret the General's life out, blacken him,Hold him up as a rebel, and Heaven knowsWhat else still worse, because he spares the Saxons,170[616]And tries to awaken confidence in the enemy;Which yet 's the only way to peace: for ifWar intermit not during war, how thenAnd whence can peace come?—Your own plagues fall on you!Even as I love what's virtuous, hate I you.175And here make I this vow, here pledge myself;My blood shall spurt out for this Wallenstein,And my heart drain off, drop by drop, ere yeShall revel and dance jubilee o'er his ruin.[Exit.

Max.Ha! there he is himself. Welcome, my father!You are engaged, I see. I'll not disturb you.

Octavio.How, Max? Look closer at this visitor;Attention, Max, an old friend merits—ReverenceBelongs of right to the envoy of your sovereign.5

Max.Von Questenberg!—Welcome—if you bring with youAught good to our head quarters.

Questenberg (seizing his hand).Nay, draw notYour hand away, Count Piccolomini!Not on mine own account alone I seized it,And nothing common will I say therewith.10[Taking the hands of both.Octavio—Max Piccolomini!O saviour names, and full of happy omen!Ne'er will her prosperous genius turn from Austria,While two such stars, with blessed influencesBeaming protection, shine above her hosts.15

Max.Heh!—Noble minister! You miss your part.[612]You came 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.He comes from court, where people are not quite20So well contented with the duke, as here.

Max.What now have they contrived to find out in him?That he alone determines for himselfWhat he himself alone doth understand?Well, therein he does right, and will persist in 't.25Heaven never meant him for that passive thingThat can be struck and hammered out to suitAnother's taste and fancy. He'll not danceTo every tune of every minister.It goes against his nature—he can't do it.30He is possessed by a commanding spirit,And his too is the station of command.And well for us it is so! There existFew fit to rule themselves, but few that useTheir intellects intelligently.—Then35Well 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.40Now such a man is Wallenstein; and ifAnother better suits the court—no otherBut such a one as he can serve the army.

Questenberg.The army? Doubtless!

Octavio (aside).Hush! suppress it, friend!Unless some end were answered by the utterance.—45Of him there you'll make nothing.

Max.In their distressThey call a spirit up, and when he comes,Straight their flesh creeps and quivers, and they dread himMore than the ills for which they called him up.The uncommon, the sublime, must seem and be50Like things of every day.—But in the field,Aye, there the Present Being makes itself felt.The personal must command, the actual eye[613]Examine. If to be the chieftain asksAll that is great in nature, let it be55Likewise his privilege to move and actIn all the correspondencies of greatness.The oracle within him, that which lives,He must invoke and question—not dead books,Not ordinances, not mould-rotted papers.60

Octavio.My son! of those old narrow ordinancesLet us not hold too lightly. They are weightsOf priceless value, which oppressed mankindTied to the volatile will of their oppressors.For always formidable was the league65And partnership of free power with free will.The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds,Is yet no devious way. Straight forward goesThe lightning's path, and straight the fearful pathOf the cannon-ball. Direct it flies and rapid,70Shattering 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 followThe river's course, the valley's playful windings,Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines,75Honouring the holy bounds of property!And thus secure, though late, leads to its end.

Questenberg.O 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!80A war of fifteen yearsHath been thy education and thy school.Peace hast thou never witnessed! There existsA higher than the warrior's excellence.In war itself war is no ultimate purpose.85The vast and sudden deeds of violence,Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment,These are not they, my son, that generateThe calm, the blissful, and the enduring mighty!Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect!90Builds his light town of canvas, and at onceThe whole scene moves and bustles momently,With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrelThe motley market fills; the roads, the streams[614]Are crowded with new freights, trade stirs and hurries!95But on some morrow morn, all suddenly,The tents drop down, the horde renews its march.Dreary, and solitary as a church-yardThe meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie,And the year's harvest is gone utterly.100

Max.O let the Emperor make peace, my father!Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurelFor the first violet[614:1]of the leafless spring,Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed!

Octavio.What ails thee? What so moves thee all at once?105

Max.Peace have I ne'er beheld? I have beheld it.From thence am I come hither: O! that sight,It glimmers still before me, like some landscapeLeft in the distance,—some delicious landscape!My road conducted me through countries where110The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my father—My venerable father, life has charmsWhich we have ne'er experienced. We have beenBut voyaging along its barren coasts,Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates,115That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship,House on the wild sea with wild usages,Nor know aught of the main land, but the baysWhere safeliest they may venture a thieves' landing.Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals120Of fair and exquisite, O! nothing, nothing,Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.

Octavio.And so your journey has revealed this to you?

Max.'Twas the first leisure of my life. O tell me,What is the meed and purpose of the toil,125The painful toil, which robbed me of my youth,Left me a heart unsoul'd and solitary,A spirit uninformed, unornamented.For the camp's stir and crowd and ceaseless larum,The neighing war-horse, the air-shattering trumpet,130[615]The unvaried, still-returning hour of duty,Word of command, and exercise of arms—There's nothing here, there's nothing in all thisTo satisfy the heart, the gasping heart!Mere bustling nothingness, where the soul is not—135This cannot be the sole felicity,These cannot be man's best and only pleasures.

Octavio.Much hast thou learnt, my son, in this short journey.

Max.O! day thrice lovely! when at length the soldierReturns home into life; when he becomes140A fellow-man among his fellow-men.The colours are unfurled, the cavalcadeMarshals, and now the buzz is hushed, and hark!Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, home!The caps and helmets are all garlanded145With green boughs, the last plundering of the fields.The city gates fly open of themselves,They need no longer the petard to tear them.The ramparts are all filled with men and women,With peaceful men and women, that send onwards150Kisses and welcomings upon the air,Which they make breezy with affectionate gestures.From all the towers rings out the merry peal,The joyous vespers of a bloody day.O happy man, O fortunate! for whom155The well-known door, the faithful arms are open,The faithful tender arms with mute embracing.

Questenberg.O! that you should speakOf such a distant, distant time, and notOf the to-morrow, not of this to-day.160

Max.Where lies the fault but on you in Vienna?I will deal openly with you, Questenberg.Just now, as first I saw you standing here,(I'll own it to you freely) indignationCrowded and pressed my inmost soul together.165'Tis ye that hinder peace, ye!—and the warrior,It is the warrior that must force it from you.Ye fret the General's life out, blacken him,Hold him up as a rebel, and Heaven knowsWhat else still worse, because he spares the Saxons,170[616]And tries to awaken confidence in the enemy;Which yet 's the only way to peace: for ifWar intermit not during war, how thenAnd whence can peace come?—Your own plagues fall on you!Even as I love what's virtuous, hate I you.175And here make I this vow, here pledge myself;My blood shall spurt out for this Wallenstein,And my heart drain off, drop by drop, ere yeShall revel and dance jubilee o'er his ruin.[Exit.

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