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GORDON (rises).

The Rhinegrave's still far off. Give but the orders,
This citadel shall close its gates upon him.
If then he will besiege us, let him try it.
But this I say; he'll find his own destruction
With his whole force before these ramparts, sooner
Than weary down the valor of our spirit.
He shall experience what a band of heroes,
Inspirited by an heroic leader,

Is able to perform. And if indeed
It be thy serious wish to make amend

For that which thou hast done amiss,-this, this
Will touch and reconcile the Emperor

Who gladly turns his heart to thoughts of mercy,
And Friedland, who returns repentant to him,
Will stand yet higher in his Emperor's favor,
Than e'er he stood when he had never fallen.
WALLENSTEIN (contemplates him with surprise, remains
silent awhile, betraying strong emotion).
Gordon-your zeal and fervor lead you far.
Well, well-an old friend has a privilege.
Blood, Gordon, has been flowing. Never, never
Can the Emperor pardon me: and if he could,
Yet I-I ne'er could let myself be pardon'd.
Had I foreknown what now has taken place,
That he, my dearest friend, would fall for me,
My first death-offering; and had the heart
Spoken to me, as now it has done-Gordon,
It may be, I might have bethought myself.
It may be too, I might not. Might or might not,
Is now an idle question. All too seriously
Has it begun, to end in nothing, Gordon!
Let it then have its course.

[Stepping to the window.

All dark and silent-at the Castle too
All is now hush'd-Light me, Chamberlain!

SCENE IV.

GORDON, BUTLER (at first behind the Scenes). BUTLER (not yet come into view of the stage Here stand in silence till I give the signal GORDON (starts up).

"Tis he, he has already brought the murderers.

BUTLER.

The lights are out. All lies in profound sleep.

GORDON.

What shall I do? Shall I attempt to save him?
Shall I call up the house? Alarm the guards?

BUTLER (appears, but scarcely on the stage).
A light gleams hither from the corridor.
It leads directly to the Duke's bed-chamber.

GORDON.

But then I break my oath to the Emperor;
If he escape and strengthen the enemy,
Do I not hereby call down upon my head
All the dread consequences?

BUTLER (stepping forward).

Hark! Who speaks there

GORDON.

'Tis better, I resign it to the hands
Of Providence. For what am I, that I
Should take upon myself so great a deed?
I have not murder'd him, if he be murder'd;
But all his rescue were my act and deed;
Mine-and whatever be the consequences
I must sustain them.

BUTLER (advances).

Butler!

"Tis Gordon.

I should know that voice.
GORDON.

BUTLER.

What do you want here! when the Duke dismiss'd you?

[The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER, who had entered
during the last dialogue, and had been stand-
ing at a distance and listening to it with Was it so late then,
visible expressions of the deepest interest, ad-
vances in extreme agitation, and throws him. Your hand bound up and in a scarf?
self at the DUKE's feet.

And thou too! But I know why thou dost wish
My reconcilement with the Emperor.
Poor man! he hath a small estate in Cærnthen,
And fears it will be forfeited because
He's in my service. Am I then so poor,
That I no longer can indemnify

My servants? Well! to no one I employ
Means of compulsion. If 'tis thy belief

That Fortune has fled from me, go! forsake me.
This night for the last time mayst thou unrobe me,
And then go over to thy Emperor.

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Of this last day or two was great. May't please you! Refuses your arm.
Take care that they awake me not too early.

BUTLER.

Is he? Speak.

GORDON.

Not through you' The Heaven
See-'tis wounded!-

BUTLER.

GORDON.

[Exit WALLENSTEIN, the GROOM OF THE CHAMBER There is no need of my arm.
lighting him. SENI follows, GORDON remains
on the darkened stage, following the DUKE

The most guilty

with his eye, till he disappears at the farther Have perish'd, and enough is given to justice.

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GORDON.

His heart still cleaves

To earthly things: he's not prepared to step
Into the presence of his God!

BUTLER (going).

God's merciful!
GORDON (holds him).

Grant him but this night's respite.
BUTLER (hurrying off).

May ruin all.

SCENE VI.

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

GORDON (holds him still).
One hour!-

BUTLER.

Unhold me! What

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!

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Murder!

Help!

COUNTESS.

What too late?

BUTLER.

Down with him!

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER (run through the body by

DEVEREUX, falls at the entrance of the gallery).

Jesus Maria!

BUTLER.

Burst the doors open.

Who will be here himself? Octavio

In Egra? Treason! Treason!-Where's the Duke? [She rushes to the Gallery

SCENE VIII.

[They rush over the body into the gallery-two (Servants run across the Stage full of terror. The whole

doors are heard to crash one after the other—
Voices deadened by the distance-Clash of
arms—then all at once a profound silence.

Scene must be spoken entirely without pauses`

SENI (from the Gallery).

O bloody frightful deed!

211

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Fly! fly they murder us all!

Heaven forbid!

FIRST SERVANT.

SECOND SERVANT (carrying silver plate).

That way! the lower

Passages are block'd up.

VOICE (from behind the Scene).

Make room for the Lieutenant-General!

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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 starvi

[At these words the COUNTESS starts from her stupor, Astonish'd that blood is come up. I always collects herself, und retires suddenly.

VOICE (from behind the Scene).

Keep back the people! Guard the door!

SCENE IX.

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 swordIs it your order

MACDONALD.

BUTLER (pointing to OCTAVIO).

Here stands he who now

Hath the sole power to issue orders.
[DEVEREUX and MACDONALD retire with marks of
obeisance. One drops away after the other,
till only BUTLER, OCTAVIO, and GORDON
remain on the Stage.

OCTAVIO (turning to BUTLER).
Was that my purpose, Butler, when we parted?
God of Justice!

To thee I lift my hand! I am not guilty

Of this foul deed.

Knew what I did, and therefore no result
Hath power to frighten or surprise my spirit.
Have you aught else to order? for this instant
I make my best speed to Vienna; place
My bleeding sword before my Emperor's Throne,
And hope to gain the applause which undelaying
And punctual obedience may demand
From a just judge,

SCENE X.

[Erit BUTLER

To these enter the COUNTESS TERTSKY, pale and dis ordered. Her utterance is slow and feeble, and un impassioned.

OCTAVIO (meeting her).

O Countess Tertsky! These are the results
Of luckless unblest deeds.

COUNTESS.

They are the fruits
Of your contrivances. The duke is dead,
My husband too is dead, the Duchess struggles
In the pangs of death, my niece has disappear'd.
This house of splendor, and of princely glory,
Doth now stand desolated: the affrighted servant
Rush forth through all its doors. I am the last
Therein; I shut it up, and here deliver
The keys.

OCTAVIO (with a deep anguish).

O Countess! my house too is desolate

COUNTESS.

Who next is to be murder'd? Who is next
To be maltreated? Lo! the Duke is dead.
The Emperor's vengeance may be pacified!
Spare the old servants; let not their fidelity
Be imputed to the faithful as a crime-

The evil destiny surprised my brother
Too suddenly he could not think on them.

OCTAVIO.

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!

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[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 sud den anguish, raises his eyes to heaven.

(The Curtain drops.)

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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 disastrous lustre on his name. In the execution of the work, as intricacy of plot could not have been attempted without a gross violation of recent facts, it has been my sole aim to imitate the impassioned and highly figurative language of the French Orators, and to develop the characters of the chief actors on a vast stage of horrors.

Yours fraternally,

S. T. COLERIDGE.

JESUS COLLEGE, September 22, 1794.

ACT I.

SCENE, The Tuilleries

BARRERE.

The tempest gathers-be it mine to seek
A friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him.
But where? and how? I fear the Tyrant's soul--
Sudden in action, fertile in resource,
And rising awful 'mid impending ruins;
In splendor gloomy, as the midnight meteor,
That fearless thwarts the elemental war.

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 tremblo!
[Exit

Enter TALLIEN and LEGEndre.

TALLIEN.

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.

I mark'd him well. I met his eye's last glance; It menaced not so proudly as of yore.

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!

ST-JUST.

I cannot fear him-yet we must not scorn him
Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus,
Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony?

Methought he would have spoke-but that he dared The state is not yet purified: and though

not

Such agitation darken'd on his brow.

TALLIEN.

"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.

LEGENDRE.

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!

TALLIEN.

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.

LEGENDRE.

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!

TALLIEN.

Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty meanings

LEGENDRE.

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.

[Exeunt.

Enter ROBESPIERRE, COUTHON, ST-JUST, and ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.

ROBESPIERRE.

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?

The stream runs clear, yet at the bottom lies The thick black sediment of all the factionsIt needs no magic hand to stir it up!

COUTHON.

O we did wrong to spare them-fatal error!
Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died?
And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes?
I've fear'd him, since his iron heart endured
To make of Lyons one vast human shambles,
Compared with which the sun-scorch'd wilderness
Of Zara were a smiling paradise.

ST-JUST.

Rightly thou judgest, Couthon! He is one,
Who flies from silent solitary anguish,
Seeking forgetful peace amid the jar
Of elements. The how! of maniac uproar
Lulls to sad sleep the memory of himself.
A calm is fatal to him-then he feels
The dire upboilings of the storm within him.
A tiger mad with inward wounds.I dread
The fierce and restless turbulence of guilt.

ROBESPIERRE

Is not the commune ours? The stern tribunal? Dumas? and Vivier? Fleuriot? and Louvet? And Henriot? We'll denounce a hundred, nor Shall they behold to-morrow's sun roll westward.

ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.

Nay-I am sick of blood; my aching heart Reviews the long, long train of hideous horrors That still have gloom'd the rise of the republic. I should have died before Toulon, when war Became the patriot!

ROBESPIERRE.

Most unworthy wish! He, whose heart sickens at the blood of traitors, Would be himself a traitor, were he not A coward! 'Tis congenial souls alone Shed tears of sorrow for each other's fate. O thou art brave, my brother! and thine eye Full firmly shines amid the groaning battleYet in thine heart the woman-form of pity Asserts too large a share, an ill-timed guest! There is unsoundness in the state-To-morrow Shall see it cleansed by wholesome massacre!

ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.

Beware! already do the sections murmur"O the great glorious patriot, RobespierreThe tyrant guardian of the country's freedom

COUTHON.

Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves
Much I suspect the darksome fickle heart
Of cold Barrere !

ROBESPIERRE

I see the villain in him! ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.

If he-if all forsake thee-what remains?

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