# Wallenstein/The Piccolomini/A3S1

ACT III.
Scene a Chamber in Piccolomini's Mansion.— It is Night.
SCENE I.
Octavio Piccolomini. A Valet de Chambre with Lights.
OCTAVIO.
What is the hour?
VALET.
OCTAVIO.
You may retire to sleep.
MAX.
That odious business was no fault of mine.
'Tis true, indeed, I saw thy signature. What thou hast sanction'd, should not, it might seem, Have come amiss to me. But—'tis my nature— Thou know'st that in such matters I must follow My own light, not another's.
OCTAVIO. (goes up to him and embraces him.)
O follow it still further, my best son! To night, dear boy! it hath more faithfully Guided thee than th' example of thy father.
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
For after what has taken place this night, There must remain no secrets 'twixt us two. (Both seat themselves.) Max. Piccolomini! what think'st thou of The oath that was sent round for signatures?
MAX.
Altho' I love not these set declarations.
OCTAVIO.
The signature they fain had wrested from thee?
MAX.
The affair itself seem'd not so urgent to me.
OCTAVIO.
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
He drew thee back unconscious from the abyss.
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
Fain would they have extorted from thee, son, The sanction of thy name to villainy; Yes, with a single flourish of thy pen, Made thee renounce thy duty and thy honour!
MAX.(rises)
OCTAVIO.
Hast thou to hear from me, friend!—hast for years Liv'd in incomprehensible illusion. Before thine eyes is Treason drawing out As black a web as e'er was spun for venom: A power of hell o'erclouds thy understanding. I dare no longer stand in silence—dare No longer see thee wandering on in darkness, Nor pluck the bandage from thine eyes.
MAX.
Yet, ere thou speak'st, a moment's pause of thought! If your disclosures should appear to be Conjectures only—and almost I fear
They will be nothing further—spare them! I Am not in that collected mood at present, That I could listen to them quietly.
OCTAVIO.
The more impatient cause have I, my son, To force it on thee. To the innocence And wisdom of thy heart I could have trusted thee With calm assurance—but I see the net Preparing—and it is thy heart itself Alarms me for thine innocence—that secret, (fixing his eyes stedfastly on his son's face) Which thou concealest, forces mine from me. (Max. attempts to answer, but hesitates, and casts his eyes to the ground embarrassed.)
OCTAVIO. (after a pause.)
With thee and with us all—nay, hear me calmly— The Duke even now is playing. He assumes The mask, as if he would forsake the army; And in this moment makes he preparations That army from the Emperor—to steal, And carry it over to the enemy!
MAX.
Expect to hear it from thy mouth.
OCTAVIO.
From which thou hear'st it at this present moment, Doth warrant thee that it is no Priest's legend.
MAX.
What, he can meditate?—the Duke?—can dream That he can lure away full thirty thousand Tried troops and true, all honourable soldiers, More than a thousand noblemen among them, From oaths, from duty, from their honour lure them, And make them all unanimous to do A deed that brands them scoundrels?
OCTAVIO.
With such a front of infamy, the Duke No way desires—what he requires of us Bears a far gentler appellation. Nothing He wishes but to give the Empire peace. And so, because the Emperor hates this peace, Therefore the Duke—the Duke will force him to it. All parts of the Empire will he pacify, And for his trouble will retain in payment (What he has already in his gripe)—Bohemia!
MAX.
That we—that we should think so vilely of him?
OCTAVIO.
The affair speaks for itself—and clearest proofs! Hear me, my son—'tis not unknown to thee, In what ill credit with the Court we stand. But little dost thou know, or guess what tricks,
What base intrigues, what lying artifices, Have been employ'd—for this sole end—to sow Mutiny in the camp! All bands are loos'd— Loos'd all the bands that link the officer To his liege Emperor, all that bind the soldier Affectionately to the citizen. Lawless he stands, and threat'ningly beleaguers The state he's bound to guard. To such a height 'Tis swoln, that at this hour the Emperor Before his armies—his own armies—trembles; Yea, in his capital, his palace, fears The traitor's poniard, and is meditating To hurry off and hide his tender offspring—— Not from the Swedes, not from the Lutherans— No! from his own troops to hide and hurry them!
MAX.
That oft we tremble at an empty terror; But the false phantasm brings a real misery.
OCTAVIO.
Of all the most unnatural and cruel, Will burst out into flames, if instantly We do not fly and stifle it. The Generals Are many of them long ago won over; The subalterns are vacillating—whole Regiments and garrisons are vacillating. To foreigners our strong holds are entrusted; To that suspected Schafgotch is the whole Force of Silesia given up: to Tertsky
Five regiments, foot and horse—to Isolani, To Illo, Kinsky, Butler, the best troops.
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
Believes he has secur'd us—means to lure us Still further on by splendid promises. To me he portions forth the princedoms, Glatz And Sagan; and too plain I see the angel With which he doubts not but to catch thee.
MAX.
I tell thee—no!
OCTAVIO.
And to what purpose think'st thou he has call'd us Hither to Pilsen?—To avail himself Of our advice?—O when did Friedland ever Need our advice?—Be calm, and listen to me. To sell ourselves are we call'd hither, and Decline we that—to be his hostages. Therefore doth noble Gallas stand aloof; Thy father, too, thou wouldst not have seen here, If higher duties had not held him fetter'd.
MAX.
That we're call'd hither for his sake—he owns it. He needs our aidance to maintain himself— He did so much for us; and 'tis but fair That we too should do somewhat now for him.
OCTAVIO.
That Illo's drunken mood betrayed it to thee. Bethink thyself—what hast thou heard, what seen? The counterfeited paper—the omission Of that particular clause, so full of meaning, Does it not prove that they would bind us down To nothing good?
MAX.
Appears to me no other than a trick Of Illo's own device. These underhand Traders in great men's interests ever use To urge and hurry all things to the extreme. They see the Duke at variance with the Court, And fondly think to serve him, when they widen The breach irreparably. Trust me, father, The Duke knows nothing of all this.
OCTAVIO.
That I must dash to earth, that I must shatter A faith so specious; but I may not spare thee! For this is not a time for tenderness. Thou must take measur'd, speedy ones—must act. I therefore will confess to thee, that all Which I've intrusted to thee now—that all Which seems to thee so unbelievable, That—yes, I will tell thee—(a pause)—Max.! I had it all From his own mouth—from the Duke's mouth I had it.
MAX. (in excessive agitation)
OCTAVIO.
What I, 'tis true, had long before discovered By other means—himself confided to me, That 'twas his settl'd plan to join the Swedes; And, at the head of the united armies, Compel the Emperor———
MAX.
The Court has stung him—he is sore all over With injuries and affronts; and in a moment Of irritation, what if he, for once, Forgot himself? He's an impetuous man.
OCTAVIO.
And having construed my astonishment Into a scruple of his power, he shew'd me His written evidences—shew'd me letters, Both from the Saxon and the Swede, that gave Promise of aidance, and defin'd th' amount.
MAX.
Dost thou not see, it cannot! Thou wouldest of necessity have shewn him Such horror, such deep loathing—that or he Had tak'n thee for his better genius, or Thou stood'st not now a living man before me—
OCTAVIO.
Dissuaded him with pressing earnestness;
But my abhorrence, the full sentiment Of my whole heart—that I have still kept sacred To my own consciousness.
MAX.
So treacherous? That looks not like my father! I trusted not thy words, when thou didst tell me Evil of him; much less can I now do it, That thou calumniatest thy own self.
OCTAVIO.
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
MAX.
Of thee, Octavio!
OCTAVIO.
To entertain a scruple of my honour?
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
Still to preserve that infant purity Which the voice teaches in our inmost heart. Still in alarm, forever on the watch Against the wiles of wicked men, e'en Virtue Will sometimes bear away her outward robes Soil'd in the wrestle with iniquity.
This is the curse of every evil deed, That, propagating still, it brings forth evil. J do not cheat my better soul with sophisms: I but perform my orders; the Emperor Prescribes my conduct to me. Dearest boy, Far better were it, doubtless, if we all Obey'd the heart at all times; but so doing, In this our present sojourn with bad men, We must abandon many an honest object. 'Tis now our call to serve the Emperor, By what means he can best be serv'd—the heart May whisper what it will—this is our call!
MAX.
I should not comprehend, not understand thee. The Duke, thou say'st, did honestly pour out His heart to thee, but for an evil purpose; And thou dishonestly hast cheated him For a good purpose! Silence, I entreat thee— My friend thou stealest not from me— Let me not lose my father!
OCTAVIO. (suppressing resentment)
Yet somewhat to disclose to thee. (After a pause) Duke Friedland Hath made his preparations. He relies Upon his stars. He deems us unprovided, And thinks to fall upon us by surprize. Yea, in his dream of hope, he grasps already The golden circle in his hand. He errs.
We too have been in action—he but grasps His evil fate, most evil, most mysterious!
MAX.
Let me invoke thee-—no precipitation!
OCTAVIO.
And light of tread hath Vengeance stole on after him. Unseen she stands already, dark behind him— But one step more—he shudders in her grasp! —Thou hast seen Questenberg with me. As yet Thou know'st but his ostensible commission— He brought with him a private one, my son! And that was for me only.
MAX.
OCTAVIO. (seizes the patent.)
(A pause.) ——In this disclosure place I in thy hands The Empire's welfare and thy father's life. Dear to thy inmost heart is Wallenstein: A powerful tie of love, of veneration, Hath knit thee to him from thy earliest youth. Thou nourishest the wish—O let me still Anticipate thy loitering confidence! The hope thou nourishest to knit thyself Yet closer to him——
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
I trust thy heart undoubtingly. But am I Equally sure of thy collectedness? Wilt thou be able, with calm countenance, To enter this man's presence, when that I Have trusted to thee his whole fate?
MAX.
As thou dost trust me, father, with his crime.
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
MAX. (just glances on it).
OCTAVIO.
MAX. (throws down the paper).
OCTAVIO.
MAX. (after he has read further, with a look of affright and astonishment on his father).
OCTAVIO.
Of Hungary may safely join the army, Is the command assign'd to me.
MAX.
Dost thou believe, that thou wilt tear it from him? Oh, never hope it!—Father! father! father! An inauspicious office is enjoin'd thee. This paper here!—this! and wilt thou enforce it? The mighty in the middle of his host, Surrounded by his thousands, him would'st thou Disarm—degrade! Thou art lost, both thou and all of us.
OCTAVIO.
In the great hand of God I stand. The Almighty Will cover with his shield the Imperial house, And shatter, in his wrath, the work of darkness. The Emperor hath true servants still; and, even Here in the camp, there are enough brave men Who for the good cause will fight gallantly. The faithful have been warn'd—the dangerous Are closely watch'd. I wait but the first step, And then immediately———
MAX.
Immediately?
OCTAVIO.
The deed alone he'll punish, not the wish.
The Duke hath yet his destiny in his power. Let him but leave the treason uncompleted, He will be silently displac'd from office, And make way to his Emperor's royal son. An honorable exile to his castles Will be a benefaction to him rather Than punishment. But the first open step———
MAX.
Ne'er will he take; but thou might'st easily, Yea, thou hast done it, misinterpret him.
OCTAVIO.
Duke Friedland's purposes, yet still the steps Which he hath taken openly, permit A mild construction. It is my intention To leave this paper wholly uninforc'd Till some act is committed which convicts him Of an high treason, without doubt or plea, And that shall sentence him.
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
MAX.
OCTAVIO.
After the counter-promise of this evening, It cannot be but he must deem himself
Secure of the majority with us; And of the army's general sentiment He hath a pleasing proof in that petition Which thou deliver'st to him from the regiments. Add this too—I have letters that the Rhinegrave Hath chang'd his route, and travels by forc'd marches To the Bohemian Forest. What this purports, Remains unknown; and, to confirm suspicion, This night a Swedish nobleman arriv'd here.
MAX.
Before thou hast convinc'd me—me myself:
OCTAVIO.
Canst thou believe still in his innocence?
MAX. (with enthusiasm)
(moderates his voice and manner) These reasons might expound thy spirit or mine; But they expound not Friedland—I have faith: For as he knits his fortunes to the stars, Even so doth he resemble them in secret, Wonderful, still inexplicable courses! Trust me, they do him wrong. All will be solv'd. These smokes, at once, will kindle into flame— The edges of this black and stormy cloud Will brighten suddenly, and we shall view The Unapproachable glide out in splendour.
OCTAVIO.