Wallenstein's Camp. Friedrich von Schiller

iller

      Wallenstein's Camp: A Play

      The Camp of Wallenstein is an introduction to the celebrated tragedy of that name; and, by its vivid portraiture of the state of the general's army, gives the best clue to the spell of his gigantic power. The blind belief entertained in the unfailing success of his arms, and in the supernatural agencies by which that success is secured to him; the unrestrained indulgence of every passion, and utter disregard of all law, save that of the camp; a hard oppression of the peasantry and plunder of the country, have all swollen the soldiery with an idea of interminable sway. But as we have translated the whole, we shall leave these reckless marauders to speak for themselves.

      Of Schiller's opinion concerning the Camp, as a necessary introduction to the tragedy, the following passage taken from the prologue to the first representation, will give a just idea, and may also serve as a motto to the work: —

         "Not he it is, who on the tragic scene

         Will now appear – but in the fearless bands

         Whom his command alone could sway, and whom

         His spirit fired, you may his shadow see,

         Until the bashful Muse shall dare to bring

         Himself before you in a living form;

         For power it was that bore his heart astray

         His Camp, alone, elucidates his crime."

      DRAMATIS PERSONAE

      Sergeant-Major | of a regiment of Recruit.

      Trumpeter | Terzky's carabineers. Citizen.

      Artilleryman, Peasant.

      Sharpshooters. Peasant Boy.

      Mounted Yagers, of Holk's corps. Capuchin.

      Dragoons, of Butler's regiment. Regimental Schoolmaster.

      Arquebusiers, of Tiefenbach's regiment. Sutler-Woman.

      Cuirassier, of a Walloon regiment. Servant Girl.

      Cuirassier, of a Lombard regiment. Soldiers' Boys.

      Croats. Musicians.

      Hulans.

      (SCENE. – The Camp before Pilsen, in Bohemia.)

      SCENE I

      Sutlers' tents – in front, a Slop-shop. Soldiers of all colors and uniforms thronging about. Tables all filled. Croats and Hulans cooking at a fire. Sutler-woman serving out wine. Soldier-boys throwing dice on a drum-head. Singing heard from the tent.

      Enter a Peasant and his Son.

SON

        Father, I fear it will come to harm,

        So let us be off from this soldier swarm;

        But boist'rous mates will ye find in the shoal —

        'Twere better to bolt while our skins are whole.

FATHER

        How now, boy! the fellows wont eat us, though

        They may be a little unruly, or so.

        See, yonder, arriving a stranger train,

        Fresh comers are they from the Saal and Mayne;

        Much booty they bring of the rarest sort —

        'Tis ours, if we cleverly drive our sport.

        A captain, who fell by his comrade's sword,

        This pair of sure dice to me transferred;

        To-day I'll just give them a trial to see

        If their knack's as good as it used to be.

        You must play the part of a pitiful devil,

        For these roaring rogues, who so loosely revel,

        Are easily smoothed, and tricked, and flattered,

        And, free as it came, their gold is scattered.

        But we – since by bushels our all is taken,

        By spoonfuls must ladle it back again;

        And, if with their swords they slash so highly,

        We must look sharp, boy, and do them slyly.

      [Singing and shouting in the tent.

        Hark, how they shout! God help the day!

        'Tis the peasant's hide for their sport must pay.

        Eight months in our beds and stalls have they

        Been swarming here, until far around

        Not a bird or a beast is longer found,

        And the peasant, to quiet his craving maw,

        Has nothing now left but his bones to gnaw.

        Ne'er were we crushed with a heavier hand,

        When the Saxon was lording it o'er the land:

        And these are the Emperor's troops, they say!

SON

        From the kitchen a couple are coming this way,

        Not much shall we make by such blades as they.

FATHER

        They're born Bohemian knaves – the two —

        Belonging to Terzky's carabineers,

        Who've lain in these quarters now for years;

        The worst are they of the worthless crew.

        Strutting, swaggering, proud and vain,

        They seem to think they may well disdain

        With the peasant a glass of his wine to drain

        But, soft – to the left o' the fire I see

        Three riflemen, who from the Tyrol should be

        Emmerick, come, boy, to them will we.

        Birds of this feather 'tis luck to find,

        Whose trim's so spruce, and their purse well lined.

      [They move towards the tent.

      SCENE II

      The above – Sergeant-Major, Trumpeter, Hulan.

TRUMPETER

        What would the boor? Out, rascal, away!

PEASANT

        Some victuals and drink, worthy masters, I pray,

        For not a warm morsel we've tasted to day.

TRUMPETER

        Ay, guzzle and guttle – 'tis always the way.

HULAN (with a glass)

        Not broken your fast! there – drink, ye hound!

           He leads the peasant to the tent – the others come forward.

SERGEANT (to the Trumpeter)

        Think ye they've done it without good ground?

        Is it likely they double our pay to-day,

        Merely that we may be jolly and gay?

TRUMPETER

        Why, the duchess arrives to-day, we know,

        And her daughter too —

SERGEANT

                   Tush! that's mere show —

        'Tis the troops collected from other lands

        Who here at Pilsen have joined our bands —

        We must do the best we can t' allure 'em,

        With plentiful rations, and thus secure 'em.

        Where such abundant fare they find,