The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume II Part 41

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[49]

_Illo (with warmth)._ And you?--You hold out firmly?

[_Grasping his hand with affection._

1817, 1828, 1829.

[70] _all_ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 91] _Butler (shocked and confused)._ 1817, 1828, 1829. _aught_ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[93] _our worthy friend_ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 95] _Butler (shaking his head significantly)._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

SCENE II

_Enter OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI and QUESTENBERG._

_Octavio._ Ay, ay! more still! Still more new visitors!

Acknowledge, friend! that never was a camp, Which held at once so many heads of heroes.

Welcome, Count Isolani!

_Isolani._ My n.o.ble brother, Even now am I arrived; it had been else my duty-- 5

_Octavio._ And Colonel Butler--trust me, I rejoice Thus to renew acquaintance with a man Whose worth and services I know and honour.

See, see, my friend!

There might we place at once before our eyes 10 The sum of war's whole trade and mystery--

[_To QUESTENBERG, presenting BUTLER and ISOLANI at the same time to him._

These two the total sum--Strength and Dispatch.

_Questenberg (to Octavio)._ And lo! betwixt them both experienced Prudence!

_Octavio (presenting Questenberg to Butler and Isolani)._ The Chamberlain and War-commissioner Questenberg, The bearer of the Emperor's behests, 15 The long-tried friend and patron of all soldiers, We honour in this n.o.ble visitor.

_Illo._ 'Tis not the first time, n.o.ble Minister, You have shewn our camp this honour.

_Questenberg._ Once before I stood before these colours. 20

_Illo._ Perchance too you remember where that was.

It was at Znaim[604:1] in Moravia, where You did present yourself upon the part Of the Emperor, to supplicate our Duke That he would straight a.s.sume the chief command. 25

_Questenberg._ To supplicate? Nay, n.o.ble General!

So far extended neither my commission (At least to my own knowledge) nor my zeal.

_Illo._ Well, well, then--to compel him, if you choose.

I can remember me right well, Count Tilly 30 Had suffered total rout upon the Lech.

Bavaria lay all open to the enemy, Whom there was nothing to delay from pressing Onwards into the very heart of Austria.

At that time you and Werdenberg appeared 35 Before our General, storming him with prayers, And menacing the Emperor's displeasure, Unless he took compa.s.sion on this wretchedness.

_Isolani._ Yes, yes, 'tis comprehensible enough, Wherefore with your commission of to-day 40 You were not all too willing to remember Your former one.

_Questenberg._ Why not, Count Isolan?

No contradiction sure exists between them.

It was the urgent business of that time 45 To s.n.a.t.c.h Bavaria from her enemy's hand; And my commission of to-day instructs me To free her from her good friends and protectors.

_Illo._ A worthy office! After with our blood We have wrested this Bohemia from the Saxon, 50 To be swept out of it is all our thanks, The sole reward of all our hard-won victories.

_Questenberg._ Unless that wretched land be doomed to suffer Only a change of evils, it must be Freed from the scourge alike of friend and foe. 55

_Illo._ What? 'Twas a favourable year; the Boors Can answer fresh demands already.

_Questenberg._ Nay, If you discourse of herds and meadow-grounds--

_Isolani._ The war maintains the war. Are the Boors ruined, The Emperor gains so many more new soldiers. 60

_Questenberg._ And is the poorer by even so many subjects.

_Isolani._ Poh! We are all his subjects.

_Questenberg._ Yet with a difference, General! The one fill With profitable industry the purse, The others are well skilled to empty it. 65 The sword has made the Emperor poor; the plough Must reinvigorate his resources.

_Isolani._ Sure!

Times are not yet so bad. Methinks I see

[_Examining with his eye the dress and ornaments of QUESTENBERG._

Good store of gold that still remains uncoined.

_Questenberg._ Thank Heaven! that means have been found out to hide 70 Some little from the fingers of the Croats.

_Illo._ There! The Stawata and the Martinitz, On whom the Emperor heaps his gifts and graces, To the heart-burning of all good Bohemians-- Those minions of court favour, those court harpies, 75 Who fatten on the wrecks of citizens Driven from their house and home--who reap no harvests Save in the general calamity-- Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mock The desolation of their country--these, 80 Let these, and such as these, support the war, The fatal war, which they alone enkindled!

_Butler._ And those state-parasites, who have their feet So constantly beneath the Emperor's table, Who cannot let a benefice fall, but they 85 Snap at it with dog's hunger--they, forsooth, Would pare the soldier's bread, and cross his reckoning!

_Isolani._ My life long will it anger me to think, How when I went to court seven years ago, To see about new horses for our regiment, 90 How from one antechamber to another They dragged me on, and left me by the hour To kick my heels among a crowd of simpering Feast-fattened slaves, as if I had come thither A mendicant suitor for the crumbs of favour 95 That fall beneath their tables. And, at last, Whom should they send me but a Capuchin!

Straight I began to muster up my sins For absolution--but no such luck for me!

This was the man, this Capuchin, with whom 100 I was to treat concerning the army horses: And I was forced at last to quit the field, The business unaccomplished. Afterwards The Duke procured me in three days, what I Could not obtain in thirty at Vienna. 105

_Questenberg._ Yes, yes! your travelling bills soon found their way to us: Too well I know we have still accounts to settle.

_Illo._ War is a violent trade; one cannot always Finish one's work by soft means; every trifle Must not be blackened into sacrilege. 110 If we should wait till you, in solemn council, With due deliberation had selected The smallest out of four-and-twenty evils, I'faith, we should wait long.-- 'Das.h.!.+ and through with it!'--That's the better watch-word. 115 Then after come what may come. 'Tis man's nature To make the best of a bad thing once past.

A bitter and perplexed 'what shall I do?'

Is worse to man than worst necessity.

_Questenberg._ Ay, doubtless, it is true: the Duke does spare us 120 The troublesome task of choosing.

The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume II Part 41

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