How else! since that the heart's unbiased instinct
Impelled me to the daring deed, which now
Necessity, self-preservation, orders.
Stern is the on-look of necessity,
Not without shudder may a human hand
Grasp the mysterious urn of destiny.
My deed was mine, remaining in my bosom;
Once suffered to escape from its safe corner
Within the heart, its nursery and birthplace,
Sent forth into the foreign, it belongs
Forever to those sly malicious powers
Whom never art of man conciliated.
[Paces in agitation through the chamber, then pauses, and, after
the pause, breaks out again into audible soliloquy.
What it thy enterprise? thy aim? thy object?
Hast honestly confessed it to thyself?
Power seated on a quiet throne thou'dst shake,
Power on an ancient, consecrated throne,
Strong in possession, founded in all custom;
Power by a thousand tough and stringy roots
Fixed to the people's pious nursery faith.
This, this will be no strife of strength with strength.
That feared I not. I brave each combatant,
Whom I can look on, fixing eye to eye,
Who, full himself of courage, kindles courage
In me too. 'Tis a foe invisible
The which I fear-a fearful enemy,
Which in the human heart opposes me,
By its coward fear alone made fearful to me.
Not that, which full of life, instinct with power,
Makes known its present being; that is not
The true, the perilously formidable.
O no! it is the common, the quite common,
The thing of an eternal yesterday.
Whatever was, and evermore returns,
Sterling to-morrow, for to-day 'twas sterling!
For of the wholly common is man made,
And custom is his nurse! Woe then to them
Who lay irreverent hands upon his old
House furniture, the dear inheritance
From his forefathers! For time consecrates;
And what is gray with age becomes religion.
Be in possession, and thou hast the right,
And sacred will the many guard it for thee!
[To the PAGE,-who here enters.
The Swedish officer? Well, let him enter.
[The PAGE exit, WALLENSTEIN fixes his eye in deep thought
on the door.
Yet, it is pure-as yet!-the crime has come
Not o'er this threshold yet-so slender is
The boundary that divideth life's two paths.
SCENE V.
WALLENSTEIN and WRANGEL.
WALLENSTEIN (after having fixed a searching look on him).
Your name is Wrangel?
WRANGEL.
Gustave Wrangel, General
Of the Sudermanian Blues.
WALLENSTEIN.
It was a Wrangel
Who injured me materially at Stralsund,
And by his brave resistance was the cause
Of the opposition which that seaport made.
WRANGEL.
It was the doing of the element
With which you fought, my lord! and not my merit,
The Baltic Neptune did assert his freedom:
The sea and land, it seemed were not to serve
One and the same.
WALLENSTEIN
You plucked the admiral's hat from off my head.
WRANGEL.
I come to place a diadem thereon.
WALLENSTEIN (makes the motion for him to take a seat, and seats himself).
And where are your credentials
Come you provided with full powers, sir general?
WRANGEL.
There are so many scruples yet to solve--
WALLENSTEIN (having read the credentials).
An able letter! Ay-he is a prudent,
