PREFACE OF THE TRANSLATOR.

THE two Dramas, PICCOLOMINI, or the first part of WALLENSTEIN, and WALLENSTEIN, are introduced in the original manuscript by a prelude in one Act, entitled WALLENSTEIN'S CAMP. This is written in rhyme, and in nine syllable verse, in the same lilling metre (if that expression may be permitted) with the second Eclogue of Spencer's Shepherd's Calendar.

This Prelude possesses a sort of broad humour, and is not defi cient in character; but to have translated it into prose, or into any other metre than that of the original, would have given a false idea both of its style and purport; to have translated it into the same metre would have been incompatible with a faithful adherence to the sense of the German, from the comparative poverty of our language in rhymes; and it would have been unadvisable from the incongruity of those lax verses with the present taste of the English public. Schiller's intention seems to have been merely to have prepared his reader for the Tragedies by a lively picture of the laxity of discipline, and the mutinous dispositions of Wallenstein's soldiery. It is not necessary as a preliminary explanation. For these reasons it has been thought expedient not to translate it.

The admirers of Schiller, who have abstracted their idea of that author from The Robbers, and The Cabal and Love, plays in which the main interest is produced by the excitement of curiosity, and in which the curiosity is excited by terrible and extraordinary incident, will not have perused, without some portion of disappointment, the dramas, which it has been my employment to translate. They should, however, reflect that these are historical dramas, taken from a popular German history; that we must therefore judge of them in some measure with the feelings of Germans; or by analogy, with the interest excited in us by similar dramas in our own language. Few, I trust, would be rash or ignorant

enough to compare Schiller with Shakspeare; yet, merely as illustration, I would say that we should proceed to the perusal of Wallenstein, not from Lear or Othello, but from Richard the Second, or the three parts of Henry the Sixth. We scarcely expect rapidity in an historical drama; and many prolix speeches are pardoned from characters, whose names and actions have formed the most amusing tales of our early life. On the other hand, there exist in these plays more individual beauties, more passages, whose excellence will bear reflection, than in the former productions of Schiller. The description of the astrological tower, and the reflections of the young lover, which follow it, form in the original a fine poem ; and my translation must have been wretched indeed, if it can have wholly overclouded the beauties of the scene in the first act of the first play, between Questenberg, Max. and Octavio Piccolomini. If we except the scene of the setting sun in The Robbers, I know of no part in Schiller's plays which equals the whole of the first scene of the fifth act of the concluding play. It would be unbecoming in me to be more diffuse on this subject. A translator stands connected with the original author by a certain law of subordination, which makes it more decorous to point out excellencies than defects: indeed he is not likely to be a fair judge of either. The pleasure or disgust from his own labour will mingle with the feelings that arise from an afterview of the original. Even in the first perusal of a work in any foreign language which we understand, we art apt to attribute to it more excellence than it really possesses, from our own pleasurable sense of difficulty overcome without effect. Translation of poetry into poetry is difficult, because the translator must give a brilliancy to his language without that warmth of original conception, from which such brilliancy would follow of its own accord. But the translator of a living author is incumbered with additional inconveniences. If he render his original faithfully, as to the sense of each passage, he must necessarily destroy a considerable portion of the spirit; if he endeavour to give a work executed according to laws of compensation, he subjects himself to imputations of vanity, or misrepresentation. I have thought it my duty to remain bound by the sense of my original, with as few exceptions as the nature of the languages rendered possible.

THE

DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN.

ACT I.

Scene-A Chamber in the House of the Duchess of
Friedland.

SCENE 1.

Countess Tertsky, Thekla, Lady Neubrunn.
(The two latter sit at the same table at work.)

Coun. (watching them from the opposite side) So you have nothing, niece, to ask me? Nothing?

I have been waiting for a word from you.

And could you then endure in all this time

Not once to speak his name?

(Thekla remaining silent, the Countess rises and advances to her.)

Why, how comes this?

Perhaps I am already grown superfluous,

And other ways exist, besides through me?

Confess it to me, Thekla! have you seen him?

Thek. To-day and yesterday I have not seen him.

Coun. And not heard from him either? Come, be

open!

Thek. No syllable.

Coun.

Thek. I am.

And still you are so calm?

Coun. May't please you, leave us, Lady Neubrunn !

[Exit Lady Neubrunn.

SCENE II.

The Countess, Thekla.

Coun. It does not please me, Princess! that he holds Himself so still, exactly at this time.

Thek. Exactly at this time?

Coun.

He now knows all.

" Twere now the moment to declare himself.

Thek. If I'm to understand you, speak less darkly. Coun. 'Twas for that purpose that I bade her leave us. Thekla, you are no more a child. Your heart

Is now no more in nonage; for you love

And boldness dwells with love-that you have prov'd.
Your nature moulds itself upon your father's

More than your mother's spirit. Therefore may you
Hear, what were too much for her fortitude.

Thek. Enough! no further preface, I entreat you,
At once, out with it! Be it what it may,

It is not possible that it should torture me
More than this introduction. What have you
To say to me? Tell me the whole, and briefly !
Coun. You'll not be frighten'd-

Thek.

Name it, I entreat you. Coun. It lies within your power to do your father

A weighty service—

Thek.

Lies within my power?

Coun. Max. Piccolomini loves you. You can link him Indissolubly to your father.

What need of me for that? And is he not

Already link'd to him?

Coun.

Thek.

He was.

And wherefore

Sould he not be so now-not be so always?
Coun. He cleaves to the Emp'ror too.

Thek.

Not more than duty

We ask

And honour may demand of him.

Coun.

Proofs of his love, and not proofs of his honour.

Duty and honour!

Those are ambiguous words with many meanings.

You should interpret them for him: his love

Should be the sole definer of his honour.

Thek. How?
Coun.

Th' Emperor or you must he renounce.
Thek. He will accompany my father gladly
In his retirement. From himself you heard,
How much he wish'd to lay aside the sword.

Coun. He must not lay the sword aside, we mean;
He must unsheath it in your father's cause.
Thek. He'll spend with gladness and alacrity

His life, his heart's blood in my father's cause,

If shame or injury be intended him.

Coun. You will not understand me. Well, hear then! Your father has fallen off from the Emperor,

And is about to join the enemy

With the whole soldiery

Thek.

Alas, my mother!

Coun. There needs a great example to draw on

The army after him. The Piccolomini