The Piccolomini. Friedrich Schiller

six, And in Bavaria twelve, to face the Swedes; Without including in the account the garrisons Who on the frontiers hold the fortresses. This vast and mighty host is all obedient To Friedland's captains; and its brave commanders, Bred in one school, and nurtured with one milk, Are all excited by one heart and soul; They are as strangers on the soil they tread, The service is their only house and home. No zeal inspires then for their country's cause, For thousands like myself were born abroad; Nor care they for the emperor, for one half Deserting other service fled to ours, Indifferent what their banner, whether 'twere, The Double Eagle, Lily, or the Lion. Yet one sole man can rein this fiery host By equal rule, by equal love and fear; Blending the many-nationed whole in one; And like the lightning's fires securely led Down the conducting rod, e'en thus his power Rules all the mass, from guarded post to post, From where the sentry hears the Baltic roar, Or views the fertile vales of the Adige, E'en to the body-guard, who holds his watch Within the precincts of the imperial palace! QUESTENBERG. What's the short meaning of this long harangue? BUTLER. That the respect, the love, the confidence, Which makes us willing subjects of Duke Friedland, Are not to be transferred to the first comer That Austria's court may please to send to us. We have not yet so readily forgotten How the command came into Friedland's hands. Was it, forsooth, the emperor's majesty That gave the army ready to his hand, And only sought a leader for it? No. The army then had no existence. He, Friedland, it was who called it into being, And gave it to his sovereign—but receiving No army at his hand; nor did the emperor Give Wallenstein to us as general. No, It was from Wallenstein we first received The emperor as our master and our sovereign; And he, he only, binds us to our banners! OCTAVIO (interposing and addressing QUESTENBERG). My noble friend, This is no more than a remembrancing That you are now in camp, and among warriors; The soldier's boldness constitutes his freedom. Could he act daringly, unless he dared Talk even so? One runs into the other. The boldness of this worthy officer, [Pointing to BUTLER. Which now is but mistaken in its mark, Preserved, when naught but boldness could preserve it, To the emperor, his capital city, Prague, In a most formidable mutiny Of the whole garrison. [Military music at a distance. Hah! here they come! ILLO. The sentries are saluting them: this signal Announces the arrival of the duchess. OCTAVIO (to QUESTENBERG). Then my son Max., too, has returned. 'Twas he Fetched and attended them from Caernthen hither. ISOLANI (to ILLO). Shall we not go in company to greet them? ILLO. Well, let us go—Ho! Colonel Butler, come. [To OCTAVIO. You'll not forget that yet ere noon we meet The noble envoy at the general's palace. [Exeunt all but QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO.

SCENE III.

       Table of Contents

      QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO.

       QUESTENBERG (with signs of aversion and astonishment).

       What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio!

       What sentiments! what fierce, uncurbed defiance!

       And were this spirit universal——

       OCTAVIO.

       Hm!

       You're now acquainted with three-fourths of the army.

       QUESTENBERG.

       Where must we seek, then, for a second host

       To have the custody of this? That Illo

       Thinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And then

       This Butler, too—he cannot even conceal

       The passionate workings of his ill intentions.

       OCTAVIO.

       Quickness of temper—irritated pride;

       'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler.

       I know a spell that will soon dispossess

       The evil spirit in him.

       QUESTENBERG (walking up and down in evident disquiet).

       Friend, friend!

       O! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffered

       Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There

       We saw it only with a courtier's eyes,

       Eyes dazzled by the splendor 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.

       Here 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 camp

       Strikes my hopes prostrate.

       OCTAVIO.

       Now you see yourself

       Of what a perilous kind the office is,

       Which you deliver to me from the court.

       The least suspicion of the general

       Costs me my freedom and my life, and would

       But hasten his most desperate enterprise.

       QUESTENBERG.

       Where was our reason sleeping when we trusted

       This madman with the sword, and placed such power

       In such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse,

       Flatly refuse to obey the imperial orders.

       Friend, he can do it, and what he can, he will.

       And then the impunity of his defiance—

       Oh! what a proclamation of our weakness!

       OCTAVIO.

       D'ye think, too, he has brought his wife and daughter

       Without a purpose hither? Here in camp!

       And at the very point of time in which

       We're arming for the war? That he has taken

       These, the last pledges of his loyalty,

       Away from out the emperor's dominions—

       This is no doubtful token of the nearness

       Of some eruption.

       QUESTENBERG.

       How shall we hold footing

       Beneath this tempest, which collects itself

       And threats us from all quarters? The enemy

       Of the empire on our borders, now already

       The master of the Danube, and still farther,

       And farther still, extending every hour!

       In our interior the alarum-bells

       Of insurrection—peasantry in arms—

       All orders discontented—and the army,

       Just in the moment of our expectation

       Of aidance from it—lo! this very army

       Seduced, run wild, lost to all discipline,

       Loosened, and rent asunder from the state

       And from their sovereign, the blind instrument

       Of the most daring of mankind, a weapon

       Of fearful power, which at his will he wields.

       OCTAVIO.

       Nay, nay, friend! let us not despair too soon

       Men's words are even bolder than their deeds;

       And many a resolute, who now appears

       Made up to all extremes, will, on a sudden,

       Find in his breast a heart he wot not of,

       Let but a single honest man speak out

       The true name of his crime! Remember, too,