peril
and excitement, because he knows no other, but chiefly because his
young unsullied spirit can shed a resplendent beauty over even the
wastest region in the destiny of man. Yet though a soldier, and the
bravest of soldiers, he is not this alone. He feels that there are
fairer scenes in life, which these scenes of havoc and distress but
deform or destroy; his first acquaintance with the Princess Thekla
unveils to him another world, which till then he had not dreamed of; a
land of peace and serene elysian felicity, the charms of which he
paints with simple and unrivalled eloquence. Max is not more daring
than affectionate; he is merciful and gentle, though his training has
been under tents; modest and altogether unpretending, though young and
universally admired. We conceive his aspect to be thoughtful but
fervid, dauntless but mild: he is the very poetry of war, the essence
of a youthful hero. We should have loved him anywhere; but here, amid
barren scenes of strife and danger, he is doubly dear to us.

His first appearance wins our favour; his eloquence in sentiment
prepares us to expect no common magnanimity in action. It is as
follows: _Octavio_ and _Questenberg_ are consulting on affairs of
state; _Max_ enters: he is just returned from convoying the _Princess
Thekla_ and her mother, the daughter and the wife of _Friedland_, to
the camp at Pilsen.

ACT I. SCENE IV.

MAX PICCOLOMINI, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, QUESTENBERG.

MAX. 'Tis he himself! My father, welcome, welcome!

[_He embraces him: on turning round, he observes Questenberg, and
draws coldly back._

Busied, I perceive? I will not interrupt you.

OCT. How now, Max? View this stranger better!
An old friend deserves regard and kindness;
The Kaiser's messenger should be rever'd!

MAX. [_drily_] Von Questenberg! If it is good that brings you
To our head-quarters, welcome!

QUEST. [_has taken his hand_] Nay, draw not
Your hand away, Count Piccolomini!
Not on mine own account alone I grasp it,
And nothing common will I say therewith.
Octavio, Max, Piccolomini! [_Taking both their hands._
Names of benignant solemn import! Never
Can Austria's fortune fail while two such stars,
To guide and guard her, gleam above our hosts.

MAX. You play it wrong, Sir Minister! To praise,
I wot, you come not hither; to blame and censure
You are come. Let me be no exception.

OCT. [_to Max._] He comes from Court, where every one is not
So well contented with the