641 



Monthly Review of Literatuit, 



arms no property but the universal sun. 

 The Uhlan, the Croat, the Walloon, the 

 Spaniard, and the Italian, are seen ming- 

 ling among each other, drinking, laughing, 

 cooking 1 , singing, or gaining; here a pea- 

 sant and his son arranging their schemes 

 of roguery against the new comers from 

 the Saal and the Maine or a sharpshooter 

 cheating a Croat of his plunder ; there a 

 quarrel about a market-girl, or a young 

 recruit strutting in his military garb, and 

 already, in anticipation, a colonel of cui- 

 rassiers while the whole is crowned by 

 the sermon of a capuchin, delivered in 

 the midst of the riotous assembly, stuffed 

 with puns and perverted texts, and sea- 

 soned with severe reflections on the au- 

 dience and their officers, &c. 



Tne PICCOLOMINI, and the DEATH OF 

 WALLENfeTEiN, can be regarded only as 

 one drama, divided into ten acts instead 

 of five j neither is at all complete without 

 the other, and therefore it is quite absurd 

 to speak of them as two. The first part, 

 however, traces the progress of those in- 

 trigue?, by which Wallenstein, long wa- 

 vering between loyalty and ambition, is at 

 last impelled to revolt and ruin deve- 

 loping very ably the characters of his prin- 

 cipal officers his friends, instruments, 

 and rivals. The incidents of the piece 

 are still of a cold and prosaic character, 

 consisting chiefly of the schemes of Oc- 

 tavio Piccolomini, Wallenstein's pretended 

 friend, to undermine his influence, and 

 betray his rash confidence to the emperor j 

 the counsels, banquets, and intrigues of 

 these chiefs; the mission of Questeuberg, 

 empowered to deprive Wallenstein of the 

 command, and invest Piccolomini with it ; 

 and the defence of Wallenstein's mea- 

 sures ; but the dryness is relieved by the 

 animation spread over the youthful elo- 

 quence of Piccolomini's son, and the love- 

 liness and artlessness of Theckla, Wallen- 

 stein's daughter. The younger Piccolo- 

 mini is Wallenstein's bosom friend, and 

 knows neither of Wallenstein's aspirings, 

 nor of his father's treacheries. He is of a 

 noble and elevated character, and the dis- 

 covery rends his soul with anguish. He 

 is enamoured of Wallenstein's daughter 

 that daughter whom the father destines for 

 a diadem. The contentions of duty, and 

 friendship, and affection, when he does 

 learn all, give occasion to the best scenes 

 of the drama. 



It is in the last piece that the character 

 of Wallenstein breaks upon us in all its 

 vigour. In the " Piccolomini" he is 

 nothing but the wily politician, calculat- 

 ing every chance, and providing against 

 every emergency irresolute and close 

 rather indeed revelling in the thoughts of 

 greatness, than resolving on the attempt. 

 He is at last pushed into action by the 

 arts of Piccolomini and other officers. The 



energy of his character is all along too 

 much perhaps impressed upon us, indi- 

 rectly, by the influence he is represented 

 to possess over high and low by the 

 awe and veneration with which he strikes 

 the stormy spirits around him. The sol- 

 diers see, not the irresolute politician, but 

 the conqueror of Mansfeld, and the rival 

 of Gustavus. The interior view, to which 

 we are admitted, of his plans and pur- 

 poses, fail of commanding present respect j 

 but the latent energies of his mind, we 

 know, are great, and we expect with con- 

 fidence their full development. Nor are 

 these expectations disappointed. It is, 

 says the translator, when all his friends 

 begin to despair when the blow, which 

 would have paralised less vigorous minds, 

 has fallen that Wallenstein becomes him- 

 self again. Betrayed by his friend de- 

 serted by the army proscribed, and al- 

 most forsaken he retires to Egra, still 

 confident in himself and in his fortune. 

 Omens and dreams unite to shake his 

 mind ; and the remembrance of the younger 

 Piccolomini, the friend whom he has lost 

 for ever in whose youthful enthusiasm 

 he had delighted to retrace and revive his 

 own presses on his heart with an omi- 

 nous despondency. But he summons his 

 energies to his aid ; he despises the prog- 

 nostics of his attendants-, and retires l 

 that rest from which he is destined never 

 to awake, in confident anticipation of the 

 speedy rising of the higher flood which 

 is to follow on this ebbing of his for- 

 tunes. 



It requires ample quotations to give 

 any fair conception of Schiller's powers ; 

 and that luckily is not our present busi- 

 ness. The translations are more easily 

 dealt with a specimen or two will suf- 

 fice. 



Compare the following the one exhi- 

 biting the cold correctness of study a 

 translation j the other reflecting the glow- 

 ing energies of poetry a transfusion. 



Wallenstein's sister is expostulating 

 with him: 



Trust? Inclination? they had need of thee. 



The importunate counsellor, necessity, 



That laughs at empty names and dazzling ont- 



sides, 



That calls for actions not the show of action ; 

 That ever seeks the best and greatest out, 

 To place him at the helm ; although she seek him 

 Among the lowest ; she it was restored thee 

 To thy fit place, and wrote thy proud commission 

 For ever, while they may, this selfish race 

 Works by the aid of patient slavish drudges ; 

 But when extremity draws near at last, 

 And hollow arts avail no more, they fall 

 Into the stronger hands of Nature's nobles, 

 The giant spirits, who obey no master ; 

 Acknowledge no allegiance, and subdue 

 All laws and all condition* to their own. 



