SCENE VI

OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, BUTLER

BUTLER.

At your command, Lieutenant-General.

OCTAVIO.

Welcome, as honor'd friend and visitor.

BUTLER.

You do me too much honor.

OCTAVIO (after both have seated themselves).

 
                                 You have not
 

Return'd the advances which I made you yesterday—

Misunderstood them as mere empty forms.

That wish proceeded from my heart—I was

In earnest with you—for 'tis now a time

In which the honest should unite most closely.

BUTLER.

'Tis only the like-minded can unite.

OCTAVIO.

True! and I name all honest men like-minded.

I never charge a man but with those acts

To which his character deliberately

Impels him; for alas! the violence

Of blind misunderstandings often thrusts

The very best of us from the right track.

You came through Frauenburg. Did the Count Gallas

Say nothing to you? Tell me. He's my friend.

BUTLER.

His words were lost on me.

OCTAVIO.

 
                   It grieves me sorely,
 

To hear it: for his counsel was most wise.

I had myself the like to offer.

BUTLER.

 
                              Spare
 

Yourself the trouble—me th' embarrassment,

To have deserved so ill your good opinion.

OCTAVIO.

The time is precious—let us talk openly.

You know how matters stand here. Wallenstein

Meditates treason—I can tell you further,

He has committed treason; but few hours

Have past since he a covenant concluded

With the enemy. The messengers are now

Full on their way to Egra and to Prague.

Tomorrow he intends to lead us over

To the enemy. But he deceives himself;

For Prudence wakes—The Emperor has still

Many and faithful friends here, and they stand

In closest union, mighty though unseen.

This manifesto sentences the Duke—

Recalls the obedience of the army from him,

And summons all the loyal, all the honest,

To join and recognize in me their leader.

Choose—will you share with us an honest cause?

Or with the evil share an evil lot?

BUTLER (rises).

His lot is mine.

OCTAVIO.

Is that your last resolve?

BUTLER.

It is.

OCTAVIO.

 
           Nay, but bethink you, Colonel Butler!
 

As yet you have time. Within my faithful breast

That rashly utter'd word remains interr'd.

Recall it, Butler! choose a better party;

You have not chosen the right one.

BUTLER (going).

 
                          Any other
 

Commands for me, Lieutenant-General?

OCTAVIO.

See your white hairs: recall that word!

BUTLER.

Farewell!

OCTAVIO.

What! Would you draw this good and gallant sword

In such a cause? Into a curse would you

Transform the gratitude which you have earn'd

By forty years' fidelity from Austria?

BUTLER (laughing with bitterness).

Gratitude from the House of Austria!

[He is going.]

OCTAVIO (permits him to go as far as the door, then calls after him).

Butler!

BUTLER.

What wish you?

OCTAVIO.

How was't with the Count?

BUTLER.

Count? what?

OCTAVIO (coldly).

The title that you wish'd, I mean.

BUTLER (starts in sudden passion).

Hell and damnation!

OCTAVIO (coldly).

 
                      You petition'd for it—
 

And your petition was repelled—Was it so?

BUTLER.

Your insolent scoff shall not go by unpunish'd.

Draw!

OCTAVIO.

Nay! your sword to 'ts sheath! and tell me calmly,

How all that happen'd. I will not refuse you

Your satisfaction afterward. Calmly, Butler!

BUTLER.

Be the whole world acquainted with the weakness

For which I never can forgive myself.

Lieutenant-General! Yes; I have ambition.

Ne'er was I able to endure contempt.

It stung me to the quick, that birth and title

Should have more weight than merit has in the army.

I would fain not be meaner than my equal,

So in an evil hour I let myself

Be tempted to that measure. It was folly!

But yet so hard a penance it deserved not.

It might have been refused; but wherefore barb

And venom the refusal with contempt?

Why dash to earth and crush with heaviest scorn

The gray-hair'd man, the faithful veteran?

Why to the baseness of his parentage

Refer him with such cruel roughness, only

Because he had a weak hour and forgot himself?

But nature gives a sting e'en to the worm

Which wanton Power treads on in sport and

insult.

OCTAVIO.

You must have been calumniated. Guess you

The enemy who did you this ill service?

BUTLER.

Be't who it will—a most low-hearted scoundrel!

Some vile court-minion must it be, some Spaniard,

Some young squire of some ancient family,

In whose light I may stand; some envious knave,

Stung to his soul by my fair self-earn'd honors!

OCTAVIO.

But tell me, did the Duke approve that measure?

BUTLER.

Himself impell'd me to it, used his interest

In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship.

OCTAVIO.

Ay? are you sure of that?

BUTLER.

I read the letter.

OCTAVIO.

And so did I—but the contents were different.

[BUTLER is suddenly struck.]

By chance I'm in possession of that letter—

Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you.

[He gives him the letter.]

BUTLER.

Ha! what is this?

OCTAVIO.

 
                     I fear me, Colonel Butler,
 

An infamous game have they been playing with you.

The Duke, you say, impell'd you to this measure?

Now, in this letter, talks he in contempt

Concerning you; counsels the minister

To give sound chastisement to your conceit,

For so he calls it.

[BUTLER reads through the letter; his knees tremble, he seizes a chair, and sinks down in it.]

You have no enemy, no persecutor;

There's no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe

The insult you received to the Duke only.

His aim is clear and palpable. He wish'd

To tear you from your Emperor: he hoped

To gain from your revenge what he well knew

(What your long-tried fidelity convinced him)

He ne'er could dare expect from your calm reason.

A blind tool would he make you, in contempt

Use you, as means of most abandoned ends.

He has gained his point. Too well has he succeeded

In luring you away from that good path

On which you had been journeying forty years!

BUTLER (his voice trembling).

Can e'er the Emperor's Majesty forgive me?

OCTAVIO.

More than forgive you. He would fain compensate

For that affront, and most unmerited grievance

Sustain'd by a deserving gallant veteran.

From his free impulse he confirms the present,

Which the Duke made you for a wicked purpose.

The regiment, which you now command, is yours.

[BUTLER attempts to rise, sinks down again. He labors

inwardly 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 Frauenburg, 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 to 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 Isolan."

–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 PICCOLOWINI

[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 hand.]

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.]

O, 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 retain'd their influence o'er 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!

O, unblest falsehood! Mother of all evil!

Thou misery-making demon, it is thou

That sink'st us in perdition. Simple truth,

Sustainer of the world, have saved us all!

Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee!

Wallenstein has deceived me—O, most foully!

But thou hast 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.

O, 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.

O, 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.

O hadst thou always better thought of men

Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion,

Unholy, miserable doubt! To him

Nothing on earth remains unwrench'd 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 Frauenburg—the Pappenheimers

I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Tsokans

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.

Today 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 't 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 now no more in nonage: for you love,

And boldness dwells with love—that you have proved

Your nature molds 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 frighten'd—

THEKLA.

Name it, I entreat you.

COUNTESS.

It lies within your 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 link'd 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 wish'd 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 enter'd,

An heavy ominous presentiment

Reveal'd 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—

O do not doubt of that! A resolution!

Does there remain one to be taken?

COUNTESS.

 
                             Hush,
 

Collect yourself! I hear your mother coming.

THEKLA.

How shall I bear to see her?

COUNTESS.

Collect yourself.