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The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 04
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KOTTWITZ. My sovereign, yes. That's what old Kottwitz does.
ELECTOR. You did not hold that notion on the field!
KOTTWITZ. I'd weighed the thing but ill, my sovereign.
I should have calmly yielded to the Prince
Who is most wonderfully versed in war.
The Swedes' left wing was wavering; on their right
Came reinforcements; had he been content
To bide your order, they'd have made a stand
With new intrenchments in the gullies there,
And never had you gained your victory.
ELECTOR. That's what it pleases you to presuppose!
I sent out Colonel Hennings, as you know,
To pounce upon and seize the knot of bridges
Held by the Swedes to cover Wrangel's rear.
If you'd not disobeyed my order, look,
Hennings had carried out the stroke as planned—
In two hours' time had set afire the bridges,
Planted his forces firmly on the Rhyn,
And Wrangel had been crushed with stump and stem
In ditches and morasses, utterly.
KOTTWITZ. It is the tyro's business, not yours,
To hunger after fate's supremest crown.
Until this hour you took what gift she gave.
The dragon that made desolate the Mark
Beneath your very nose has been repelled
With gory head! What could one day bring more?
What matters it if, for a fortnight yet,
Spent in the sand, he lies and salves his wounds?
We've learnt the art of conquering him, and now
Are full of zeal to make the most of it.
Give us a chance at Wrangel, like strong men,
Breast against breast once more; we'll make an end
And, down into the Baltic, down he goes!
They did not build Rome in a single day.
ELECTOR. What right have you, you fool, to hope for that,
When every mother's son is privileged
To jerk the battle-chariot's reins I hold?
Think you that fortune will eternally
Award a crown to disobedience?
I do not like a bastard victory,
The gutter-waif of chance; the law, look you,
My crown's progenitor, I will uphold,
For she shall bear a race of victories.
KOTTWITZ. My liege, the law, the highest and the best,
That shall be honored in your leaders' hearts—
Look, that is not the letter of your will!
It is the fatherland, it is the crown,
It is yourself, upon whose head it sits.
I beg you now, what matters it to you
What rule the foe fights by, as long as he
With all his pennons bites the dust once more?
The law that drubs him is the highest law!
Would you transform your fervid soldiery
Into a tool, as lifeless as the blade
That in your golden baldrick hangs inert?
Oh, empty spirit, stranger to the stars,
Who first gave forth such doctrine! Oh, the base,
The purblind statecraft, which because of one
Instance wherein the heart rode on to wrack,
Forgets ten others, in the whirl of life,
Wherein the heart alone has power to save!
Come, in the battle do I spill in dust
My blood for wages, money, say, or fame?
Faith, not a bit! It's all too good for that!
Why! I've my satisfaction and my joy,
Free and apart, in quiet solitude,
Seeing your splendor and your excellence,
The fame and crescence of your mighty name!
That is the wage for which I sold my heart!
Grant that, because of this unplanned success;
You broke the staff across the Prince's head,
And I somewhere twixt hill and dale at dawn
Should, shepherd-wise, steal on a victory
Unplanned as this, with my good squadrons, eh?—
By God, I were a very knave, did I
Not merrily repeat the Prince's act!
And if you spake, the law book in your hand:
"Kottwitz, you've forfeited your head!" I'd say:
I knew it, Sir; there, take it, there it is;
When with an oath I bound me, hide and hair,
Unto your crown, I left not out my head,
And I should give you nought but what was yours!
ELECTOR. You whimsical old gentleman, with you
I get nowhere! You bribe me with your tongue—
Me, with your craftily framed sophistries—
Me—and you know I hold you dear! Wherefore
I call an advocate to bear my side
And end our controversy.
[He rings a bell. A footman enters.]
Go! I wish
