His heart still cleaves To earthly things: he's not prepared to step Into the presence of his God!
God's merciful! GORDON (holds him).
COUNTESS TERTSKY (with a light).
Her bed-chamber is empty; she herself Is nowhere to be found! The Neubrunn too, Who watch'd by her, is missing. If she should Be flown-But whither flown? We must call up Every soul in the house. How will the Duke Bear up against these worst bad tidings? O The next moment If that my husband now were but return'd
Grant him but this night's respite. BUTLER (hurrying off).
GORDON (holds him still). One hour!-
Home from the banquet!-Hark! I wonder whether The Duke is still awake! I thought I heard Voices and tread of feet here! I will go And listen at the door. Hark! what is that? "Tis hastening up the steps!
(Servants run across the Stage full of terror. The whole Scene must be spoken entirely without pauses SENI (from the Gallery).
[They rush over the body into the gallery-two doors are heard to crash one after the other— Voices deadened by the distance-Clash of arms—then all at once a profound silence. O bloody frightful deed!
Fly! fly! they murder us all!
SECOND SERVANT (carrying silver plate).
VOICE (from behind the Scene).
Make room for the Lieutenant-General!
Avail'd yourself of mine.
Thus to abuse the orders of thy Lord
And stain thy Emperor's holy name with murder, With bloody, most accursed assassination! BUTLER (calmly).
I've but fulfill'd the Emperor's own sentence.
Infusing a dread life into their words, And linking to the sudden transient thought The unchangeable irrevocable deed. Was there necessity for such an eager Dispatch? Couldst thou not grant the merciful A time for mercy? Time is man's good Angel. To leave no interval between the sentence, And the fulfilment of it, doth beseem God only, the immutable!
Rail you against me? What is my offence? The Empire from a fearful enemy Have I deliver'd, and expect reward. The single difference betwixt you and me Is this you placed the arrow in the bow;
I pull'd the string. You sow'd blood, and yet stand
[At these words the COUNTESS starts from her stupor, Astonish'd that blood is come up. I always collects herself, and retires suddenly.
VOICE (from behind the Scene).
Keep back the people! Guard the door!
To these enters OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI with all his
Train. At the same time DEVEREUX and MACDONALD enter from the Corridor with the Halberdiers. -WALLENSTEIN's dead body is carried over the back part of the Stage, wrapped in a piece of crimson tapestry.
OCTAVIO (entering abruptly). It must not be! It is not possible! Butler! Gordon!
I'll not believe it. Say, No!
[GORDON, without answering, points with his hand to the Body of WALLENSTEIN as it is carried over the back of the Stage. OCTAVIO looks that way, and stands overpowered with horror. DEVEREUX (to BUTLER).
Here is the golden fleece-the Duke's sword- Is it your order-
Speak not of vengeance! Speak not of maltreatment! The Emperor is appeased; the heavy fault Hath heavily been expiated-nothing Descended from the father to the daughter, Except his glory and his services.
The Empress honors your adversity, Takes part in your afflictions, opens to you Her motherly arms! Therefore no farther fears; Yield yourself up in hope and confidence To the Imperial Grace!
COUNTESS (with her eye raised to heaven) To the grace and mercy of a greater Master Do I yield up myself Where shall the body Of the Duke have its place of final rest? In the Chartreuse, which he himself did found At Gitschin, rest the Countess Wallenstein; And by her side, to whom he was indebted For his first fortunes, gratefully he wish'd He might sometime repose in death! O let him Be buried there. And likewise, for my husband's Remains, I ask the like grace. The Emperor Is now proprietor of all our Castles.
This sure may well be granted us-one sepulchre Beside the sepulchres of our forefathers!
[He reads the address, and delivers the letter to OCTAVIO with a look of reproach, and with an emphasis on the word.
To the Prince Piccolomini.
[OCTAVIO, with his whole frame expressive of sudden anguish, raises his eyes to heaven.
ACCEPT, as a small testimony of my grateful attachment, the following Dramatic Poem, in which I have endeavored to detail, in an interesting form, the fall of a man, whose great bad actions have cast a dis- The tempest gathers-be it mine to seek astrous lustre on his name. In the execution of the A friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him. work, as intricacy of plot could not have been at-But where? and how? I fear the Tyrant's soul-— Sudden in action, fertile in resource, tempted without a gross violation of recent facts, it And rising awful 'mid impending ruins; has been my sole aim to imitate the impassioned and highly figurative language of the French Orators, That fearless thwarts the elemental war. In splendor gloomy, as the midnight meteor,
and to develop the characters of the chief actors on a vast stage of horrors.
JESUS COLLEGE, September 22, 1794.
When last in secret conference we met, He scowl'd upon me with suspicious rage, Making his eye the inmate of my bosom.
I know he scorns me-and I feel, I hate him- Yet there is in him that which makes me tremble! [Exil
Enter TALLIEN and LEGENDRE.
It was Barrere, Legendre! didst thou mark him? Abrupt he turn'd, yet linger'd as he went, And towards us cast a look of doubtful meaning. LEGENDRE.
And shall I dread the soft luxurious Tallien? Th' Adonis Tallien? banquet-hunting Tallien? Him, whose heart flutters at the dice-box? Him, Who ever on the harlots' downy pillow Resigns his head impure to feverish slumbers!
I cannot fear him-yet we must not scorn him. Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus, Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony?
I mark'd him well. I met his eye's last glance; It menaced not so proudly as of yore. Methought he would have spoke-but that he dared The state is not yet purified: and though
Such agitation darken'd on his brow.
'Twas all-distrusting guilt that kept from bursting Th' imprison'd secret struggling in the face: E'en as the sudden breeze upstarting onwards Hurries the thunder-cloud, that poised awhile Hung in mid air, red with its mutinous burthen.
Perfidious Traitor!-still afraid to bask In the full blaze of power, the rustling serpent Lurks in the thicket of the Tyrant's greatness, Ever prepared to sting who shelters him. Each thought, each action in himself converges ; And love and friendship on his coward heart Shine like the powerless sun on polar ice: To all attach'd, by turns deserting all, Cunning and dark-a necessary villain!
Yet much depends upon him-well you know With plausible harangue 't is his to paint Defeat like victory-and blind the mob With truth-mix'd falsehood. They, led on by him, And wild of head to work their own destruction, Support with uproar what he plans in darkness.
O what a precious name is Liberty
To scare or cheat the simple into slaves! Yes we must gain him over: by dark hints We'll show enough to rouse his watchful fears, Till the cold coward blaze a patriot.
O Danton! murder'd friend! assist my counsels- Hover around me on sad memory's wings, And pour thy daring vengeance in my heart. Tallien! if but to-morrow's fateful sun Beholds the Tyrant living-we are dead!
Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty meanings
Fear not-or rather fear th' alternative, And seek for courage e'en in cowardice.- But see-hither he comes-let us away! His brother with him, and the bloody Couthon, And high of haughty spirit, young St-Just.
Enter ROBESPIERRE, COUTHON, ST-JUST, and ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.
What! did La Fayette fall before my power? And did I conquer Roland's spotless virtues? The fervent eloquence of Vergniaud's tongue? And Brissot's thoughtful soul unbribed and bold? Did zealot armies haste in vain to save them? What! did th' assassin's dagger aim its point Vain, as a dream of murder, at my bosom?
Myself! the steel-strong Rectitude of soul And Poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues! The giant Victories, my counsels form'd, Shall stalk around me with sun-glittering plumes, Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless. [Exeunt cæteri. Manet CoUTHON.
So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtues Bloom on the poisonous branches of ambition! Still, Robespierre! thou 'lt guard thy country's freedom To despotize in all the patriot's pomp. While Conscience, 'mid the mob's applauding clamors, Sleeps in thine ear, nor whispers blood-stain'd tyrant! Yet what is Conscience? Superstition's dream, Making such deep impression on our sleep- That long th' awaken'd breast retains its horrors! But he returns-and with him comes Barrere.
Enter ROBESPIERRE and BARRERE.
There is no danger but in cowardice.- Barrere! we make the danger, when we fear it. We have such force without, as will suspend The cold and trembling treachery of these members.
Twill be a pause of terror.
But to whom? Rather the short-lived slumber of the tempest, Gathering its strength anew. The dastard traitors! Moles, that would undermine the rooted oak! A pause!—a moment's pause!-'T is all their life.
Yet much they talk-and plausible their speech. Couthon's decree has given such powers, that-
There are who wish my ruin-but I'll make them Blush for the crime in blood!
Nay, but I tell theo Thou art too fond of slaughter-and the right |(If right it be) workest by most foul means!
Self-centering Fear! how well thou canst ape Mercy! Too fond of slaughter!-matchless hypocrite! Thought Barrere so, when Brissot, Danton died? Thought Barrere so, when through the streaming Of Paris red-eyed Massacre o'er-wearied Reel'd heavily, intoxicate with blood? And when (O heavens!) in Lyons' death-red square Sick Fancy groan'd o'er putrid hills of slain, Didst thou not fiercely laugh, and bless the day? Why, thou hast been the mouth-piece of all horrors,
And, like a blood-hound, crouch'd for murder! Now Aloof thou standest from the tottering pillar,
Or, like a frighted child behind its mother, Hidest thy pale face in the skirts of Mercy!
Transparent mask They wish to clog the wheels of government, Forcing the hand that guides the vast machine To bribe them to their duty-English patriots! Are not the congregated clouds of war Black all around us? In our very vitals Works not the king-bred poison of rebellion? Say, what shall counteract the selfish plottings Of wretches, cold of heart, nor awed by fears Of him, whose power directs th' eternal justice? Terror? or secret-sapping gold? The first Heavy, but transient as the ills that cause it; And to the virtuous patriot render'd light By the necessities that gave it birth: The other fouls the fount of the republic, Making it flow polluted to all ages; Inoculates the state with a slow venom, That, once imbibed, must be continued ever. Myself incorruptible, I ne'er could bribe them- Therefore they hate me.
SCENE changes to the house of ADELAIDE. ADELAIDE enters, speaking to a SERVANT.
Didst thou present the letter that I gave thee? Did Tallien answer, he would soon return?
O this new freedom! at how dear a price We've bought the seeming good! The peaceful virtues And every blandishment of private life, The father's cares, the mother's fond endearment, All sacrificed to Liberty's wild riot. The winged hours, that scatter'd roses round me, Languid and sad drag their slow course along, And shake big gall-drops from their heavy wings. But I will steal away these anxious thoughts By the soft languishment of warbled airs, If haply melodies may lull the sense Are the sections friendly? Of sorrow for a while.
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