The Camp of Wallenstein by Friedrich Schiller (howl and other poems .txt) 📖

it written, I pray, That they ever blasphemed in this villanous way? One would think ye need stretch your jaws no more, To cry, "God help us!" than "Zounds!" to roar. But, by the liquor that's poured in the cask, we know With what it will bubble and overflow. Again, it is written - thou shalt not steal, And this you follow, i'faith! to the letter, For open-faced robbery suits ye better. The gripe of your vulture claws you fix On all - and your wiles and rascally tricks Make the gold unhid in our coffers now, And the calf unsafe while yet in the cow - Ye take both the egg and the hen, I vow. Contenti estote - the preacher said; Which means - be content with your army bread. But how should the slaves not from duty swerve? The mischief begins with the lord they serve, Just like the members so is the head. I should like to know who can tell me his creed.

FIRST YAGER. Sir priest, 'gainst ourselves rail on as you will - Of the general we warn you to breathe no ill.

CAPUCHIN. Ne custodias gregem meam! An Ahab is he, and a Jerobeam, Who the people from faith's unerring way, To the worship of idols would turn astray,

TRUMPETER and RECRUIT. Let us not hear that again, we pray.

CAPUCHIN. Such a Bramarbas, whose iron tooth Would seize all the strongholds of earth forsooth! Did he not boast, with ungodly tongue, That Stralsund must needs to his grasp be wrung, Though to heaven itself with a chain 'twere strung?

TRUMPETER. Will none put a stop to his slanderous bawl?

CAPUCHIN. A wizard he is! - and a sorcerer Saul! - Holofernes! - a Jehu! - denying, we know, Like St. Peter, his Master and Lord below; And hence must he quail when the cock doth crow -

BOTH YAGERS. Now, parson, prepare; for thy doom is nigh.

CAPUCHIN. A fox more cunning than Herod, I trow -

TRUMPETER and both YAGERS (pressing against him). Silence, again, - if thou wouldst not die!

CROATS (interfering.) Stick to it, father; we'll shield you, ne'er fear; The close of your preachment now let's hear.

CAPUCHIN (still louder). A Nebuchadnezzar in towering pride! And a vile and heretic sinner beside! He calls himself rightly the stone of a wall; For faith! he's a stumbling-stone to us all. And ne'er can the emperor have peace indeed, Till of Friedland himself the land is freed.

[During the last passages which he pronounces in an elevated
voice, he has been gradually retreating, the Croats keeping
the other soldiers off.


SCENE IX.

The above, without the Capuchin.

FIRST YAGER (to the Sergeant).

But, tell us, what meant he about chanticleer; Whose crowing the general dares to hear? No doubt it was uttered in spite and scorn.

SERGEANT. Listen - 'Tis not so untrue as it appears; For Friedland was rather mysteriously born, And is 'specially troubled with ticklish ears; He can never suffer the mew of a cat; And when the cock crows he starts thereat.

FIRST YAGER. He's one and the same with the lion in that.

SERGEANT. Mouse-still must all around him creep, Strict watch in this the sentinels keep, For he ponders on matters most grave and deep.
[Voices in the tent. A tumult. Seize the rascal! Lay on! lay on!

PEASANT'S VOICE. Help! - mercy - help!

OTHERS.
Peace! peace! begone!

FIRST YAGER. Deuce take me, but yonder the swords are out!

SECOND YAGER. Then I must be off, and see what 'tis about.

[Yagers enter the tent.

SUTLER-WOMAN (comes forward). A scandalous villain! - a scurvy thief!

TRUMPETER. Good hostess, the cause of this clamorous grief?

SUTLER-WOMAN. A cut-purse! a scoundrel! the-villain I call. That the like in my tent should ever befall! I'm disgraced and undone with the officers all.

SERGEANT. Well, coz, what is it?

SUTLER-WOMAN.
Why, what should it be? But a peasant they've taken just now with me - A rogue with false dice, to favor his play.

TRUMPETER. See I they're bringing the boor and his son this way.


SCENE X.

Soldiers dragging in the peasant, bound.

FIRST YAGER. He must hang!

SHARPSHOOTERS and DRAGOONS.
To the provost, come on!

SERGEANT. 'Tis the latest order that forth has gone.

SUTLER-WOMAN. In an hour I hope to behold him swinging!

SERGEANT. Bad work bad wages will needs be bringing.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (to the others). This comes of their desperation. We First ruin them out and out, d'ye see; Which tempts them to steal, as it seems to me.

TRUMPETER. How now! the rascal's cause would you plead? The cur! the devil is in you indeed!

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. The boor is a man - as a body may say.

FIRST YAGER (to the Trumpeter). Let 'em go! they're of Tiefenbach's corps, the railers, A glorious train of glovers and tailors! At Brieg, in garrison, long they lay; What should they know about camps, I pray?


SCENE XI.

The above. - Cuirassiers.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Peace! what's amiss with the boor, may I crave?

FIRST SHARPSHOOTER. He has cheated at play, the cozening knave!

FIRST CUIRASSIER. But say, has he cheated you, man, of aught?

FIRST SHARPHOOTER. Just cleaned me out - and not left me a groat.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. And can you, who've the rank of a Friedland man, So shamefully cast yourself away, As to try your luck with the boor at play? Let him run off, so that run he can.

[The peasant escapes, the others throng together.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. He makes short work - is of resolute mood - And that with such fellows as these is good. Who is he? not of Bohemia, that's clear.

SUTLER-WOMAN. He's a Walloon - and respect, I trow, Is due to the Pappenheim cuirassier!

FIRST DRAGOON (joining). Young Piccolomini leads them now, Whom they chose as colonel, of their own free might, When Pappenheim fell in Luetzen's fight.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Durst they, indeed, presume so far?

FIRST DRAGOON. This regiment is something above the rest. It has ever been foremost through the war, And may manage its laws, as it pleases best; Besides, 'tis by Friedland himself caressed.

FIRST CUIRASSIER (to the Second.) Is't so in truth, man? Who averred it?

SECOND CUIRASSIER. From the lips of the colonel himself I heard it.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. The devil! we're not their dogs, I weep!

FIRST YAGER. How now, what's wrong? You're swollen with spleen!

SECOND YAGER. Is it anything, comrades, may us concern?

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 'Tis what none need be wondrous glad to learn.

The Soldiers press round him.

To the Netherlands they would lend us now - Cuirassiers, Yagers, and Shooters away, Eight thousand in all must march, they say.

SUTLER-WOMAN. What! What! again the old wandering way - I got back from Flanders but yesterday!

SECOND CUIRASSIER (to the Dragoons). You of Butler's corps must tramp with the rest.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. And we, the Walloons, must doubtless be gone.

SUTLER-WOMAN. Why, of all our squadrons these are the best.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. To march where that Milanese fellow leads on.

FIRST YAGER. The infant? that's queer enough in its way.

SECOND YAGER. The priest - then, egad! there's the devil to pay.

FIRST CUIRASSIER. Shall we then leave the Friedlander's train, Who so nobly his soldiers doth entertain - And drag to the field with this fellow from Spain! A niggard whom we in our souls disdain! That'll never go down - I'm off, I swear.

TRUMPETER. Why, what the devil should we do there? We sold our blood to the emperor - ne'er For this Spanish red hat a drop we'll spare!

SECOND YAGER. On the Friedlander's word and credit alone We ranged ourselves in the trooper line, And, but for our love to Wallenstein, Ferdinand ne'er had our service known.

FIRST DRAGOON. Was it not Friedland that formed our force? His fortune shall still be the star of our course.

SERGEANT. Silence, good comrades, to me give ear - Talking does little to help us here. Much farther in this I can see than you all, And a trap has been laid in which we're to fall;

FIRST YAGER. List to the order-book! hush - be still!

SERGEANT. But first, Cousin Gustel, I pray thee fill A glass of Melneck, as my stomach's but weak When I've tossed it off, my mind I'll speak.

SUTLER-WOMAN. Take it, good sergeant. I quake for fear - Think you that mischief is hidden here?

SERGEANT. Look ye, my friends, 'tis fit and clear That each should consider what's most near. But as the general says, say I, One should always the whole of a case descry. We call ourselves all the Friedlander's troops; The burgher, on whom we're billeted, stoops Our wants to supply, and cooks our soups. His ox, or his horse, the peasant must chain To our baggage-car, and may grumble in vain. Just let a lance-corp'ral, with seven good men, Tow'rd a village from far but come within ken, You're sure he'll be prince of the place, and may Cut what capers he will, with unquestioned sway. Why, zounds! lads, they heartily hate us all - And would rather the devil should give them a call, Than our yellow collars. And why don't they fall On us fairly at once and get rid of our lumber? They're more than our match in point of number, And carry the cudgel as we do the sword. Why can we laugh them to scorn? By my word Because we make up here a terrible horde.

FIRST YAGER. Ay, ay, in the mass lies the spell of our might, And the Friedlander judged the matter aright, When, some eight or nine years ago, he brought The emperor's army together. They thought Twelve thousand enough for the general. In vain, Said he, such a force I can never maintain. Sixty thousand I'll bring ye into the plain, And they, I'll be sworn, won't of hunger die, And thus were we Wallenstein's men, say I.

SERGEANT. For example, cut one of my fingers off, This little one here from my right hand doff. Is the taking my finger then all you've done? No, no, to the devil my hand is gone! 'Tis a stump - no more - and use has none. The eight thousand horse they wish to disband May be but a finger of our army's hand. But when they're once gone may we understand We are but one-fifth the less? Oh, no - By the Lord, the whole to the devil will go! All terror, respect, and awe will be over, And the peasant will swell his crest once more; And the Board of Vienna will order us where Our troops must be quartered and how we must fare, As of old in the days of their beggarly care.