# Wallenstein/The Piccolomini/A2S04

SCENE IV.
Thekla (hurries forward), Countess, Max. Piccolomini.
THEKLA (to the Countess.)
That hears he better from myself.
MAX.(stepping backward.)
What have you let her hear me say, Aunt Tertsky!
THEKLA (to the Countess)
COUNTESS.
Where have you stay'd so long?
THEKLA.
Wept so again! and I—I see her suffer, Yet cannot keep myself from being happy.
MAX.
To-day at noon I could not. The dazzle of the jewels that play'd round you Hid the beloved from me.
THEKLA.
With your eye only—and not with your heart?
MAX.
Of all your kindred, in your father's arms, Beheld myself an alien in this circle, O! what an impulse felt I in that moment
To fall upon his neck, to call him father! But his stern eye o'erpower'd the swelling passion— It dar'd not but be silent. And those brilliants, That like a crown of stars enwreath'd your brows, They scar'd me too! O wherefore, wherefore should he At the first meeting spread as 'twere the bann Of excommunication round you, wherefore Dress up the angel as for sacrifice, And cast upon the light and joyous heart The mournful burden of his station? Fitly May love dare woo for love; but such a splendour Might none but monarchs venture to approach.
THEKLA.
You see how soon the burden is thrown off. (To the Countess.) He is not in spirits. Wherefore is he not? 'Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy! He had quite another nature on the journey— So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent. (to Max.) It was my wish to see you always so, And never otherwise!
MAX.
In your great father's arms, beloved lady! All in a new world, which does homage to you, And which, were't only by its novelty, Delights your eye.
THEKLA.
That many things delight me here: this camp, This motley stage of warriors, which renews So manifold the image of my fancy, And binds to life, binds to reality, What hitherto had but been present to me As a sweet dream!
MAX.
It makes a dream of my reality. Upon some island in the ethereal heights I've liv'd for these last days. This mass of men Forces me down to earth. It is a bridge That, reconducting to my former life, Divides me and my heaven.
THEKLA.
Looks cheerful, when one carries in one's heart The unalienable treasure. 'Tis a game, Which having once review'd, I turn more joyous Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss. (breaking off, and in a sportive tone) In this short time that I've been present here, What new unheard-of things have I not seen? And yet they all must give place to the wonder Which this mysterious castle guards.
COUNTESS. (recollecting)
Can this be then? Methought I was acquainted With all the dusky corners of this house.
THEKLA. (smiling)
Two griffins still stand sentry at the door.
COUNTESS (laughs)
That this same sanctuary, whose access Is to all others so impracticable, Opens before you e'en at your approach?
THEKLA.
And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services Were mine at first sight, open'd me the doors.
MAX.
THEKLA.
When I was born, what month, and on what day, Whether by day or in the night.
COUNTESS.
To erect a figure for your horoscope.
THEKLA.
With much sad meaning, and the lines, methought, Did not square over truly with his wishes.
COUNTESS.
My highest privilege has been to snatch A side-glance, and away!
THEKLA.
Sensation that came o'er me, when at first From the broad sunshine I stepp'd in; and now The narrowing line of day-light, that ran after The closing door, was gone; and all about me 'Twas pale and dusky night, with many shadows
Fantastically cast. Here six or seven Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me In a half-circle. Each one in his hand A sceptre bore, and on his head a star, And in the tower no other light was there But from these stars; all seem'd to come from them. 'These are the planets,' said that low old man, 'They govern worldly fates, and for that cause 'Are imag'd here as kings. He farthest from you, 'Spiteful and cold, an old man melancholy, 'With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn. 'He opposite, the king with the red light, 'An arm'd man for the battle, that is Mars: 'And both these bring but little luck to man.' But at his side a lovely lady stood, The star upon her head was soft and bright, And that was Venus, the bright star of joy. On the left hand, lo! Mercury, with wings. Quite in the middle glitter'd silver-bright A cheerful man, and with a monarch's mien; And this was Jupiter, my father's star: And at his side I saw the Sun and Moon.
MAX.
In the might of stars and angels! 'Tis not merely The human being's pride that peoples space With life and mystical predominance; Since likewise for the stricken heart of Love This visible nature, and this common world, Is all too narrow: yea, a deeper import Lurks in the legend told my infant years Than lies upon that truth, we live to learn.
For fable is Love's world, his home, his birth-place: Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans, And spirits; and delightedly believes Divinities, being himself divine. The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and wat'ry depths; all these have vanish'd. They live no longer in the faith of reason! But still the heart doth need a language, still Doth the old instinct bring back the old names. And to yon starry world they now are gone, Spirits or gods, that us'd to share this earth With man as with their friend; and to the lover Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky Shoot influence down: and even at this day 'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great, And Venus who brings every thing that's fair!
THEKLA.
I too, with glad and zealous industry, Will learn acquaintance with this cheerful faith. It is a gentle and affectionate thought, That in immeasurable heights above us, At our full birth, the wreath of love was woven, With sparkling stars for flowers.
COUNTESS.
But thorns too hath the heaven; and well for you,
Leave they your wreath of love inviolate. What Venus twin'd, the bearer of glad fortune, The sullen orb of Mars soon tears to pieces.
MAX.
Blest be the General's zeal: into the laurel Will he inweave the olive-branch, presenting Peace to the shouting nations. Then no wish Will have remain'd for his great heart! Enough Has he perform'd for glory, and can now Live for himself and his. To his domains Will he retire; he has a stately seat Of fairest view at Gitschin; Reichenberg, And Friedland Castle, both lie pleasantly— Even to the foot of the huge mountains here Stretches the chase and covers of his forests: His ruling passion, to create the splendid, He can indulge without restraint; can give A princely patronage to every art, And to all worth a Sovereign's protection. Can build, can plant, can watch the starry courses—
COUNTESS.
Before you lay aside your arms, young friend! A gentle bride, as she is, is well worth it That you should woo and win her with the sword.
MAX.
COUNTESS.
Did you hear nothing? Seem'd, as if I heard Tumult and larum in the banquet-room. [Exit Countess.