Chapter I: Part 1
L'AIGLON
_A PLAY IN SIX ACTS_
BY EDMOND ROSTAND
TRANSLATED BY
LOUIS N. PARKER
HARPER & BROTHERS
FRANKLIN SQUARE, NEW YORK
Copyright 1900 By Robert Howard Russell
Printed in the United States of America
THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY
The cast as presented by Maude Adams at the Knickerbocker Theatre, New York, October, 1900
THE DUKE OF REICHSTADT, _son of Napoleon I. and the Archduchess Maria Louisa of Austria_ MAUDE ADAMS
FLAMBEAU, _a veteran_ J. H. GILMOUR
PRINCE METTERNICH, _Chancellor of Austria_ EDWIN ARDEN
COUNT PROKESCH PERCY LYNDALL
BARON FRIEDRICH VON GENTZ EUGENE JEPSON
THE ATTACHÉ OF THE FRENCH EMBASSY _at the Austrian Court_ OSWALD YORK
THE TAILOR, _a conspirator_ WILLIAM LEWERS
COUNT MAURICE DIETRICHSTEIN EDWARD LESTER
BARON VON OBENAUS R. PEYTON CARTER
THE EMPEROR FRANCIS OF AUSTRIA JOS. FRANCOEUR
MARSHAL MARMONT, _Duke of Ragusa_ J. H. BENRIMO
COUNT SEDLINZKY, _Prefect of the Austrian Police_ WILLIAM CROSBY
THE MARQUIS OF BOMBELLES, _betrothed to Maria Louisa_ CLAYTON LEGGE
TIBURTIUS DE LOGET WILLIAM IRVING
LORD COWLEY, _English Ambassador at the Austrian Court_ RIENZI DE CORDOVA
COUNT SANDOR EDWARD JACOBS
DOCTOR MALFATTI H. D. JAMES
GENERAL HARTMANN HERBERT CARR
CAPTAIN FORESTI JOHN S. ROBERTSON
AN AUSTRIAN SERGEANT LLOYD CARLETON
A COUNTRY DOCTOR FREDERICK SPENCER
HIS SON BYRON ONGLEY
THALBERG B. B. BELCHER
MONTENEGRO MORTON H. WELDON
THE CHAMBERLAIN CHARLES MARTIN
AN OFFICER OF THE NOBLE GUARD, _the Emperor of Austria's Bodyguard_ HENRY P. DAVIS
THE MARQUIS OF OTRANTO, _son of Fouche_ CHARLES HENDERSON
GOUBEAUX) (DON C. MERRIFIELD PIONNET ) _Bonapartist_ (HENRY CLARKE MORCHAIN) _conspirators_ (THOMAS H. ELWOOD GUIBERT ) (GEORGE KLEIN BOROWSKI) (FRANK GOODMAN
FIRST POLICE OFFICER RALPH YOERG
FIRST ARCHDUKE, _a child_ WALTER BUTTERWORTH
SECOND ARCHDUKE, _a child_ JOHN LEEMAN
MARIA LOUISA, _second wife of Napoleon I., widow of Count Neipperg_ IDA WATERMAN
THE ARCHDUCHESS SOPHIA OF AUSTRIA SARAH CONVERSE
THERESA DE LOGET, _sister of Tiburtius de Loget_ ELLIE COLLMER
THE COUNTESS NAPOLEONE CAMERATA, _daughter of Napoleon's sister, Elisa Baciocchi_ SARAH PERRY
FANNY ELSSLER MARGARET GORDON
SCARAMPI, _Mistress of the Robes_ FRANCIS COMSTOCK
MINA, _a maid-of-honor_ EDITH SCOTT
AN ARCHDUCHESS, _a child_ BEATRICE MORRISON
_Princes_, _Princesses_, _Archdukes_, _Archduchesses_, _Maids-of-Honor_, _Officers_, _Noble Guard_, _Masks (Male and Female)_, _Crotian Peasants_, _Hungarian Peasant_, _Austrian Soldiers_, _Police Officers_.
_The period covered by the play is from 1830 to 1832._
FROM THE PAINTING BY SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE]
THE FIRST ACT
L'AIGLON
THE FIRST ACT
_At Baden, near Vienna, in 1830._
_The drawing-room of the villa occupied by_ MARIA LOUISA. _The walls are painted al fresco in bright colors. The frieze is decorated with a design of sphinxes._
_At the back, between two other windows, a window reaching to the ground and forming the entrance from the garden. Beyond, the balustrade of the terrace leading into the garden; a glimpse of lindens and pine-trees. A magnificent day in the beginning of September. Empire furniture of lemonwood decorated with bronze. A large china stove in the centre of the wall on the left. In front of it a door. On the right, two doors. The first leads to the apartments of_ MARIA LOUISA. _In front of the window on the left at the back an Erard piano of the period, and a harp. A big table on the right, and against the right wall a small table with shelves filled with books. On the left, facing the audience, a Récamier couch, and a large stand for candlesticks. A great many flowers in vases. Framed engravings on the walls representing the members of the Imperial Family of Austria. A portrait of the Emperor Francis._
_At the rise of the curtain a group of elegant ladies is discovered at the further end of the room. Two of them are seated at the piano, with their backs to the audience, playing a duet. Another is at the harp. They are playing at sight, amid much laughter and many interruptions. A lackey ushers in a modestly dressed young girl who is accompanied by an officer of the Austrian Cavalry. Seeing that no one notices their entrance, these two remain standing a moment in a corner. The_ COUNT DE BOMBELLES _comes in from the door on the right and goes toward the piano. He sees the young girl, and stops, with a smile._
THE LADIES.
[_Surrounding the piano, laughing, and all talking at the same time._]
She misses all the flats!--It's scandalous!-- I'll take the bass!--Loud pedal!--One! Two!--Harp!
BOMBELLES.
[_To_ THERESA.]
What! You!
THERESA.
Good-day, my Lord Bombelles!
A LADY.
[_At the piano._]
_Mi, sol._
THERESA.
I enter on my readership--
ANOTHER LADY.
[_At the piano._]
The flats!
THERESA.
It's thanks to you.
BOMBELLES.
My dear Theresa! Nothing!
You are my relative, and you are French.
THERESA.
[_Presenting the officer._]
Tiburtius--
BOMBELLES.
Ah, your brother!
[_He gives him his hand and pushes forward a
chair for_ THERESA.]
Take a seat.
THERESA.
I'm very nervous.
BOMBELLES.
[_With a smile._]
Heavens! What about?
THERESA.
To venture near the persons of the two The Emperor left!
BOMBELLES.
Oh, is that all, my child?
TIBURTIUS.
Our people hated Bonaparte of old--
THERESA.
Yes--but to see--
BOMBELLES.
His widow?
THERESA.
And perhaps
His son?
BOMBELLES.
Assuredly.
THERESA.
Why, it would mean I'd never thought or read, and was not French, Nor born in recent years, if I could stand Unmoved so near them. Is she lovely?
BOMBELLES.
Who?
THERESA.
Her Majesty of Parma?
BOMBELLES.
Why--
THERESA.
She's sad
And that itself is beauty.
BOMBELLES.
But I'm puzzled.
Surely you've seen her?
THERESA.
No.
TIBURTIUS.
We've just come in.
BOMBELLES.
Yes, but--
TIBURTIUS.
We feared we might disturb these ladies
Whose laughter sings new gamuts to the piano.
THERESA.
Here in my corner I await her notice.
BOMBELLES.
What? Why, it's she who's playing bass this moment!
THERESA.
The Emp--?
BOMBELLES.
I'll go and tell her.
[_He goes to the piano and whispers to one of the
ladies who are playing._]
MARIA LOUISA.
[_Turning._] Ah! this child-- Quite a pathetic story--yes--you told me: A brother--
BOMBELLES.
Father exiled. Son an exile.
TIBURTIUS.
The Austrian uniform is to my taste; And then there's fox-hunting, which I adore.
MARIA LOUISA.
[_To_ THERESA.]
So that's the rascal whose extravagance Eats up your little fortune?
THERESA.
Oh!--my brother--
MARIA LOUISA.
The wretch has ruined you, but you forgive him! Theresa de Loget, I think you're charming!
[_She takes_ THERESA _by both hands and makes her
sit beside her on the couch._]
[BOMBELLES and TIBURTIUS _retire to the back._]
Now you're among my ladies. I may boast I'm not unpleasant; rather sad at times Since--
THERESA.
I am grieved beyond the power of words.
MARIA LOUISA.
Yes, to be sure. It was a grievous loss. That lovely soul was little known!
THERESA.
Oh, surely!
MARIA LOUISA.
[_Turning to_ BOMBELLES.]
I've just been writing; they're to keep his horse--
[_To_ THERESA.]
Since the dear General's death--
THERESA.
The--General's?
MARIA LOUISA.
He'd kept that title.
THERESA.
Ah, I understand!
MARIA LOUISA.
I weep.
THERESA.
That title was his greatest glory.
MARIA LOUISA.
One cannot know at first all one has lost; And I lost all when General Neipperg died.
THERESA.
Neipperg?
MARIA LOUISA.
I came to Baden for distraction. It's nice. So near Vienna.--Ah, my dear, My nerves are troublesome; they say I'm thinner-- And growing very like Madame de Berry. 'Twas Vitrolles said so. Now I do my hair Like her. Why did not Heaven take me too? This villa's small, of course; but 'tisn't bad; Metternich is our guest in passing.
[_She points to the door on the left._]
There. He leaves to-night. The life at Baden's gay. We have the Sandors and the pianist Thalberg, And Montenegro sings to us in Spanish. Fontana howls an air from _Figaro_. The wife of the Ambassador of England And the Archduchess come; we go for drives-- But nothing soothes my grief!--Ah, could the General--! Of course you're coming to the ball to-night?
THERESA.
Why--
MARIA LOUISA.
At the Meyendorffs'. Strauss will be there.
She must be present, mustn't she, Bombelles?
THERESA.
May I solicit of your Majesty News of the Duke of Reichstadt?
MARIA LOUISA.
In good health. He coughs a little; but the air of Baden Is good for him. He's quite a man. He's reached The critical hour of entrance in the world! Oh dear! when I consider he's already Lieutenant-Colonel! Think how grieved I am Never to have seen him in his uniform!
[_Enter the_ DOCTOR _and his son, bringing a box._
MARIA LOUISA.
Ah! These must be for him!
THE DOCTOR.
Yes; the collections.
MARIA LOUISA.
Please put them down.
BOMBELLES.
What are they?
THE DOCTOR.
Butterflies.
THERESA.
Butterflies?
MARIA LOUISA.
Yes; when I was visiting This amiable old man, the local doctor, I saw his boy arranging these collections. I sighed aloud, Alas! would but my son, Whom nothing moves, take interest in these!
THE DOCTOR.
So then I answered, Well, your Majesty, One never knows. Why not? We can but try; I'll bring my butterflies!
THERESA.
His butterflies!
MARIA LOUISA.
Could he but leave his solitary musings To occupy his mind with--
THE DOCTOR.
Lepidoptera.
MARIA LOUISA.
Leave them; come back; he's out at present. [_To_ THERESA.] You Come, I'll present you to Scarampi. She's The Mistress of the Robes.
[_She sees_ METTERNICH, _who enters L._]
Ah, Metternich!
Dear Prince, we leave you the saloon.
METTERNICH.
Indeed,
I had to come here to receive the Envoy--
MARIA LOUISA.
I know--
METTERNICH.
Of General Belliard, French Ambassador; And Councillor Gentz, and several Estafets. With your permission-- [_To a lackey._] First, Baron von Gentz.
MARIA LOUISA.
The room is yours.
[_She goes out with_ THERESA. TIBURTIUS _and_
BOMBELLES _follow her_. GENTZ _enters_.]
METTERNICH.
Good-morning, Gentz. You know The Emperor recalls me to Vienna? I'm going back to-day.
GENTZ.
Ah?
METTERNICH.
Yes; it's tiresome--
The town in summer!
GENTZ.
Empty as my pocket.
METTERNICH.
Oh, come now! No offence, you know, but--eh? Surely the Russian Government has--
GENTZ.
_Me!_
METTERNICH.
Be frank. Who's bought you? Eh?
GENTZ.
[_Munching sweetmeats._]
The highest bidder.
METTERNICH.
Where does the money go?
GENTZ.
[_Smelling at a scent-bottle he has taken out of his pocket._]
In riotous living.
METTERNICH.
Good Heavens! And you're considered my right hand!
GENTZ.
Let not your left know what your right receives.
METTERNICH.
Sweetmeats and perfumes! Oh!
GENTZ.
Why, yes, of course. I've money; I love sweets and perfumes. Yes, I'm a depraved old baby.
METTERNICH.
Affectation! Mere pose of self-contempt. [_Suddenly._] And Fanny?
GENTZ.
Elssler? Won't love me. I'm ridiculous From every point of view. She loves the Duke. I'm but a screen; but I'm content to suffer When I remember how it serves the state If he's amused. And so I play the fool, And dance attendance on the little dancer. She bade me bring her here this very night, Just to surprise the Duke.
METTERNICH.
You scandalize me.
GENTZ.
His mother's going out. There's dancing.
[_He hands_ METTERNICH _a letter which he has
taken out of a pocket-book_.]
Read--
From Fouché's son.
METTERNICH.
[_Reading the letter._] August the twentieth, Eighteen hundred and thirty--
GENTZ.
He'd transform--
METTERNICH.
Good Viscount of Otranto!
GENTZ.
Our Duke of Reichstadt to Napoleon Two.
METTERNICH.
[_Handing back the letter._]
A list of partisans?
GENTZ.
Yes.
METTERNICH.
Make a note.
GENTZ.
Do we refuse?
METTERNICH.
Without destroying hope. Ah, but my little Colonel serves me well To keep these Frenchmen straight. When they forget Their Metternich, and lean too much to the left, I let him show his nose out of his box, and--crack!-- When they come right, I pop him in again!
GENTZ.
When can one see the springs work?
METTERNICH.
Now.
[_Enter the French_ ATTACHÉ.
METTERNICH.
The Envoy Of General Belliard. Welcome, sir. [_Hands him papers._] The papers. We accept in principle King Louis Philip; But don't let's have too much of '99, Or we might crack a little egg-shell!
THE ATTACHÉ.
Sir,
Are you alluding to Prince Francis Charles?
METTERNICH.
The Duke of Reichstadt? Oh, sir, as for me, I don't admit his father reigned.
THE ATTACHÉ.
[_Generously._]
I do.
METTERNICH.
So I'll do nothing for the Duke. Yet--
THE ATTACHÉ.
Yet?
METTERNICH.
Yet, should you give too loose a reign to freedom, Permit yourself the slightest propaganda, Let Monsieur Royer-Collard come too often And bare his bosom to your king; in short, If your new kingdom's too republican, We might--our temper's not angelical-- We might remember Francis is our grandson.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Our lilies never shall turn red.
METTERNICH.
And while
They keep their whiteness bees shall not approach them.
THE ATTACHÉ.
'Tis feared in spite of you the Duke may hope.
METTERNICH.
No.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Things are happening.
METTERNICH.
But we filter them.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Doesn't he know that France has changed her king?
METTERNICH.
Yes; but the detail he does not yet know Is that his father's flag, the tricolor, Is re-established. 'Twill be time enough--
THE ATTACHÉ.
He would be drunk with hope!
METTERNICH.
We'll keep him sober.
THE ATTACHÉ.
He's not so strictly guarded here at Baden.
METTERNICH.
Oh, here there's nought to fear. He's with his mother.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Well, sir?
METTERNICH.
What spy could have such interest In watching him? For any plot would trouble Her lovely calm.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Is not that calmness feigned?
She cannot have a thought but for her eaglet!
MARIA LOUISA.
[_Entering hurriedly._
My parrot!
THE ATTACHÉ.
[_Starting._]
Eh?
MARIA LOUISA.
[_To_ METTERNICH.]
Margharitina's flown!
METTERNICH.
Oh!
MARIA LOUISA.
My parrot, Margharitina!
METTERNICH.
[_To the_ ATTACHÉ.]
There, sir!
THE ATTACHÉ.
[_To_ MARIA LOUISA.]
May I not seek it, Highness?
MARIA LOUISA.
[_Curtly._]
No. [_She goes out._
THE ATTACHÉ.
[_To_ METTERNICH.]
What's wrong?
METTERNICH.
We say, Your Majesty; you called her Highness.
THE ATTACHÉ.
But if we don't allow the Emperor reigned She cannot be addressed as Majesty Except as Parma's Duchess--
METTERNICH.
That's her title.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Then that was why she looked such daggers at me!
METTERNICH.
Question of protocols and of precedence.
THE ATTACHÉ.
[_Preparing to take his leave._]
May the French Embassy from this day forward Display the tricolor cockade?
METTERNICH.
[_With a sigh._] Of course, Since we're agreed--
[_Seeing the_ ATTACHÉ _silently throw away the
white cockade which was on his hat and replace
it with a tricolor which he takes out of his
pocket._]
Come, come! You lose no time!
[_Noise of harness-bells without._]
METTERNICH.
What is it now?
GENTZ.
[_Who is on the terrace._]
The guests of the Archduke.
The Meyendorffs, Lord Cowley, Thalberg--
BOMBELLES.
[_Who has quickly come in R. at the sound of the
bells, followed by_ TIBURTIUS.]
Meet them!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
[_Appearing on the threshold surrounded by a
crowd of lords and ladies in elegant summer
costumes. (Light dresses and parasols; large
hats.) Two little boys and a little girl dressed in the
latest fashion._]
'Tis but a villa; not a palace.
[_The room is crowded. She turns to a young
man._]
Quick!
Thalberg, my Tarantelle!
[THALBERG _sits at the piano and plays._]
[_To_ METTERNICH.] Where is her Majesty,
My lovely sister?
A LADY.
We looked in to fetch her.
ANOTHER LADY.
We're rushing through the valley on a coach. Sandor is driving.
A MAN'S VOICE.
We must thrust the lava
Back in its crater!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
Oh! do hold your tongues
They will insist on talking of volcanoes.
BOMBELLES.
What's this volcano?
A LADY.
[_To another._]
Astrachan this winter.
SANDOR.
[_To_ BOMBELLES.]
Why, liberal opinions.
BOMBELLES.
Ah!
LORD COWLEY.
Or, rather, France!
METTERNICH.
[_To the_ ATTACHÉ.]
You hear him?
A LADY.
[_To a young man._]
Montenegro, sing to me
Under your breath, for me alone.
MONTENEGRO.
[_Whom_ THALBERG _accompanies, sings very softly._]
Corazon--
[_He continues, pianissimo._]
ANOTHER LADY.
[_To_ GENTZ.]
Ah, Gentz!
[_She dips into her reticule._]
Some bon-bons, Gentz?
[_She gives him some._]
GENTZ.
You are an angel.
ANOTHER LADY.
[_Similar business._]
Perfume from Paris?
[_She takes out a little bottle of scent and gives it to him._]
METTERNICH.
[_Hurriedly to_ GENTZ.]
Tear the label off!
"The Reichstadt scent"!
GENTZ.
[_Smelling perfume._]
It smells of violets.
METTERNICH.
[_Snatches the bottle out of his hand and scrapes
the label off with a pair of scissors he takes from
the table._]
If the Duke came he'd see that still at Paris--
A VOICE.
[_Among the group at the back of the stage._]
The Hydra lifts its head--
A LADY.
Our husbands talk
Of Hydras!
LORD COWLEY.
And it must be stifled.
A LADY.
Yes;
Volcanoes first, then hydras.
A MAID OF HONOR OF MARIA LOUISA.
[_Followed by a servant bringing a tray with large
glasses of iced coffee._]
_Eis-Kaffee?_
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
[_Seated; to a young lady._]
Recite some verses, Olga.
GENTZ.
May we have
Something of Heine's?
SEVERAL VOICES.
Yes!
OLGA.
[_Rising._]
The Grenadiers?
METTERNICH.
[_Quickly._]
Oh! No!
SCARAMPI.
[_Coming out of_ MARIA LOUISA'S _apartment._]
Her Majesty is on her way!
ALL.
Scarampi!
SANDOR.
We'll drive out to Krainerhütten,
The ladies there can rest upon the green.
METTERNICH.
[_To_ GENTZ.]
What are you reading yonder?
GENTZ.
The "Debats."
LORD COWLEY.
The politics?
GENTZ.
The Theatres.
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
How futile!
GENTZ.
Guess what they're playing at the Vaudeville.
METTERNICH.
Well?
GENTZ.
"Bonaparte."
METTERNICH.
[_With indifference._]
Oh?
GENTZ.
The Nouveautés?
METTERNICH.
Well?
GENTZ.
"Bonaparte." And the Variétés? "Napoleon." The Luxembourg announces "Fourteen years of his life." At the Gymnase They are reviving the "Return from Russia." What is the Gaiety to play this season? "Napoleon's Coachman" and "La Malmaison." An unknown author's done "Saint Helena." The Porte-Saint-Martin's going to produce "Napoleon."
LORD COWLEY.
It's the fashion.
TIBURTIUS.
It's the rage.
GENTZ.
The Ambigu "Murat;" the Cirque "The Emperor."
SANDOR.
A fashion.
BOMBELLES.
Yes, a fashion.
GENTZ.
Yes, a fashion
Which will recur from time to time in France.
A LADY.
[_Reading the paper over_ GENTZ'S _shoulder through
a long-handled eye-glass._]
They want to bring his ashes home.
METTERNICH.
The Phoenix
May rise again, but not the eagle.
TIBURTIUS.
What
An unknown quantity is France!
METTERNICH.
Oh, no;
I've gauged it.
A LADY.
Well, then, mighty prophet, speak!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
His words are graven in bronze.
GENTZ.
Or, maybe, zinc.
LORD COWLEY.
Who will be France's Saviour?
METTERNICH.
Henry the Fifth.
The others--Fashion.
THERESA.
That's a useful name
For calling glory by at times.
METTERNICH.
So long As all the shouting's only done in theatres, I think there's no--
CRIES.
[_Without._]
Long live Napoleon!
ALL.
What?--Here, at Baden!--Here!
METTERNICH.
Ridiculous!
Pray, have no fear!
LORD COWLEY.
We must not lose our heads
Because a name is shouted.
GENTZ.
He is dead.
TIBURTIUS.
[_On the terrace._]
It's nothing.
METTERNICH.
Yes, but what?
TIBURTIUS.
An Austrian soldier.
METTERNICH.
Austrian?
TIBURTIUS.
Two of them. I saw them.
METTERNICH.
Vexing!
MARIA LOUISA.
[_Entering hurriedly and pale with fear from her room._]
Did you not hear the shout? Oh, horrible! It brought to mind--One day the people surged About my coach in Parma with that cry! It's done to vex me!
METTERNICH.
What could it have meant?
TIBURTIUS.
Two of the Duke of Reichstadt's regiment Caught sight of him as he was riding homeward. You know the deep ditch bordering the road? His Highness wished to leap it, but his horse Shied, swerved, and backed. The Duke sat firm, And brought him to it again, and--over! Then The men, to applaud him, shouted. And that's all.
METTERNICH.
[_To a lackey._]
Fetch one of them at once!
MARIA LOUISA.
They seek my death!
[_An Austrian sergeant is brought in._]
METTERNICH.
A sergeant! Now, my man, speak up. What meant That shouting?
THE SERGEANT.
I don't know.
METTERNICH.
What! You don't know?
THE SERGEANT.
No; nor downstairs the corporal don't know neither. He shouted with me. It was good to see The Prince so young and slender on his horse. And then we're proud of having for our Colonel The son of--
METTERNICH.
That'll do.
THE SERGEANT.
He took the ditch So cool and calm! As pretty as a picture! So then a sort of lump came in our throats, Pride and affection--I don't know--we shouted "Long live--!
METTERNICH.
Enough, enough! It's just as easy
To shout "Long live the Duke of Reichstadt," idiot!
THE SERGEANT.
Well--
METTERNICH.
What?
THE SERGEANT.
"Long live the Duke of Reichstadt"
Isn't so easy as "Long live--"
METTERNICH.
Be off.
Don't shout at all!
TIBURTIUS.
[_To the_ SERGEANT _as he passes him to go out._]
You fool!
MARIA LOUISA.
[_To the ladies who surround her._]
I'm better, thank you.
THERESA.
The Empress!
MARIA LOUISA.
[_To_ DIETRICHSTEIN, _pointing to_ THERESA.]
Baron Dietrichstein, this is
My new companion-reader.
[_To_ THERESA, _presenting_ DIETRICHSTEIN.]
My son's tutor. And, by the way, I've never thought of asking-- Do you read well?
TIBURTIUS.
Oh, very!
THERESA.
I don't know.
MARIA LOUISA.
Take one of Franz's books from yonder table, Open it anywhere.
THERESA.
[_Taking a book and reading the title._]
"Andromache"--
[_She reads._]
"What is this fear, my lord, which strikes the heart? Has any Trojan hero slipped his chains? Their hate of Hector is not yet appeased: They dread his son! fit object of their dread! A hapless child, who is not yet aware His master's Pyrrhus and his father Hector."
[_General embarrassment._]
I--
GENTZ.
Charming voice.
MARIA LOUISA.
Select another passage.
THERESA.
"Alas the day, when, prompted by his valor, To seek Achilles and to meet his doom, He called his son and wrapped him to his heart: 'Dear wife,' quoth he, and brushed away a tear, 'I know not what the fates may have in store. I leave my son to thee--'"
[_General embarrassment._]
H'm--yes--
MARIA LOUISA.
Let's try
Some other volume. Take--
THERESA.
The "Meditations"?
MARIA LOUISA.
I know the author! 'Twill not be so dull. He dined with us. [_To_ SCARAMPI.] The Diplomat, you know.
THERESA.
[_Reads._]
"Never had hymns more strenuous and high From seraph lips rung through the listening sky: Courage! Oh, fallen child of godlike race--"
THE DUKE.
[_Who has entered unnoticed._]
Forgive the interruption, Lamartine!
MARIA LOUISA.
Well, Franz? A pleasant ride?
THE DUKE.
Delightful, mother.
But, Mademoiselle, where did my entrance stop you?
THERESA.
[_Looking at him with emotion._]
"Courage! Oh, fallen child of godlike race, The glory of your birth is in your face! All men who look on you--"
MARIA LOUISA.
That's quite sufficient.
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
[_To the children._]
Go, bid good morrow to your cousin.
[_The children run up to the_ DUKE, _who is seated,
and surround him._]
SCARAMPI.
[_To_ THERESA.]
Fie!
THERESA.
Why, what?
A LADY.
[_Looking at the_ DUKE.]
How pale he is!
ANOTHER LADY.
He looks half dead!
SCARAMPI.
[_To_ THERESA.]
You chose such awkward passages.
THERESA.
The book
Fell open by itself. I did not choose.
GENTZ.
[_Who has overheard._]
Books always open where most often read.
THERESA.
[_Looking at the_ DUKE.]
Archdukes upon his knees!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
[_Leaning over the back of the_ DUKE'S _chair._]
I am delighted
To see you, Franz. I am your friend.
[_She holds out her hand to him._]
THE DUKE.
[_Kissing her hand._]
I know it.
GENTZ.
[_To_ THERESA.]
What do you think of him? I say he's like A cherub who had secretly read "Werther."
THE LITTLE GIRL.
[_To the_ DUKE.]
How nice your collar is!
THE DUKE.
Your Highness flatters.
THERESA.
His collars!
THE LITTLE BOY.
No one has such sticks!
THE DUKE.
No. No one.
THERESA.
His sticks!
THE OTHER LITTLE BOY.
Oh! and your gloves!
THE DUKE.
Superb, my dear.
THE LITTLE GIRL.
What is your waistcoat made of?
THE DUKE.
That's cashmere.
THERESA.
Oh!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
And you wear your nosegay--?
THE DUKE.
Latest fashion:
In the third buttonhole. So glad you noticed.
[_At this moment_ THERESA _bursts into sobs._]
THE LADIES.
Eh? What's the matter?
THERESA.
Nothing. I don't know. Forgive me. I'm alone here--far from friends. Oh, it was silly!--suddenly--
MARIA LOUISA.
Poor dear!
THERESA.
I held my heart in--
MARIA LOUISA.
Tears will do you good.
THE DUKE.
What's this I trod on? Why, a white cockade!
METTERNICH.
H'm!
THE DUKE.
[_To the_ ATTACHÉ.]
Yours, no doubt, sir. Favor me: your hat.
[_The_ ATTACHÉ _gives him his hat unwillingly._ _The_ DUKE _sees the tricolor cockade._]
Ah!
[_To_ METTERNICH.]
I was not aware--but then--the flag?
METTERNICH.
Highness--
THE DUKE.
Is that changed, too?
METTERNICH.
A trivial detail.
THE DUKE.
Nothing.
METTERNICH.
Question of color--
THE DUKE.
Of a shade. See for yourself. Looked at in certain lights, I really think this is the more effective. [_He moves a few steps._]
[_His mother takes him by the arm and leads him
to the butterfly-cases, which the_ DOCTOR, _who
has come back, has spread out._]
THE DUKE.
Butterflies?
MARIA LOUISA.
You admire the black one?
THE DUKE.
Charming.
THE DOCTOR.
The plants it loves are umbelliferous.
THE DUKE.
It seems to see me with its wings.
THE DOCTOR.
Those eyes?
We call them lunulæ.
THE DUKE.
Indeed? I'm glad.
THE DOCTOR.
Are you examining the spotted grey?
THE DUKE.
No, sir.
THE DOCTOR.
What then, my lord?
THE DUKE.
The pin that killed it.
THE DOCTOR.
[_To_ MARIA LOUISA.]
No use.
MARIA LOUISA.
[_To_ SCARAMPI.]
We'll wait. I count on the effect--
SCARAMPI.
Ah, yes!--Of our surprise.
GENTZ.
[_Who has approached the_ DUKE.]
A sweetmeat?
THE DUKE.
[_Taking one and tasting it._]
Perfect. A flavor of verbena and of pear, And something else--wait--yes--
GENTZ.
It's not worth while--
THE DUKE.
What's not worth while?
GENTZ.
To feign an interest.
I'm not so blind as Metternich.
[_He offers him another sweetmeat._]
A chocolate?
THE DUKE.
What do you see?
GENTZ.
I see a youth who suffers, Rather than live a favored prince's life. Your soul is still alive, but here at court They'll lull it fast asleep with love and music. I had a soul once, like the rest of the world; But--! And I wither, decently obscene-- Till some day, in the cause of liberty, One of those rash young fools of the University Amid my sweetmeats, perfumes, and dishonor Slays me as Kotzebue was slain by Sand. Yes, I'm afraid--do try a sugared raisin-- That I shall perish at his hand.
THE DUKE.
You will.
GENTZ.
What?--How?
THE DUKE.
A youth will slay you.
GENTZ.
But--
THE DUKE.
A youth of your acquaintance.
GENTZ.
Sir--?
THE DUKE.
His name Is Frederick. 'Tis the youth you were yourself. For now he's risen again in you; and since He whispers in your ear like dull remorse, All's over with you: he will show no mercy.
GENTZ.
'Tis true, my youth cuts like a knife within me. Ah, well I knew that gaze had not deceived me! 'Tis that of one who ponders upon Empire.
THE DUKE.
I do not understand, sir, what you mean.
[_He moves away._]
METTERNICH.
[_To_ GENTZ.]
You've had a chat with--?
GENTZ.
Yes.
METTERNICH.
Delightful?
GENTZ.
Very.
METTERNICH.
He's in the hollow of my hand.
GENTZ.
Entirely.
THE DUKE.
[_Stopping before_ THERESA.]
Why did you weep?
THERESA.
Because, my Lord--
THE DUKE.
Ah, no!
I know. But do not weep.
METTERNICH.
[_Bowing to the_ DUKE.]
I take my leave.
[_He goes out with the_ ATTACHÉ.]
THE DUKE.
[_To_ MARIA LOUISA _and_ DIETRICHSTEIN, _who are turning over some papers on his table._]
Examining my work?
DIETRICHSTEIN.
It's excellent. But why on purpose make mistakes in German? Pure mischief!
MARIA LOUISA.
Oh! and at your age, mischief!
THE DUKE.
How can I help it? I am not an eagle.
DIETRICHSTEIN.
You still make France a noun of feminine gender.
THE DUKE.
I never know what's _der_ or _die_ or _das_.
DIETRICHSTEIN.
In this case neuter is correct.
THE DUKE.
But mean.
I don't much care about a neuter France.
MARIA LOUISA.
[_To_ THALBERG, _who is playing softly on the piano._]
My son detests all music.
THE DUKE.
I detest it.
LORD COWLEY.
[_Coming toward the_ DUKE.]
Highness--
DIETRICHSTEIN.
[_Aside to the_ DUKE.]
A pleasant word.
THE DUKE.
Eh?
DIETRICHSTEIN.
The English
Ambassador.
LORD COWLEY.
Where had you been just now
When you came galloping and out of breath?
THE DUKE.
I? To Saint Helena.
LORD COWLEY.
I beg your pardon?
THE DUKE.
A wholesome, leafy nook. So gay!--At evening Delightful. I should like to see you there.
GENTZ.
[_Hastily to the_ AMBASSADOR, _while the_ DUKE _moves away._]
They call the village in the Helenenthal Saint Helena. A fashionable stroll.
LORD COWLEY.
Ah, really? I was almost wondering Whether he meant it as a hit--? [_He turns away._]
GENTZ.
[_Lifting his hands in amazement at_ LORD COWLEY'S _dulness._]
These English!
VOICES.
We're off!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
[_To_ MARIA LOUISA.]
Louisa?
MARIA LOUISA.
No, I stay at home.
VOICES.
The carriages.
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
[_To the_ DUKE.]
And you, Franz?
MARIA LOUISA.
He hates nature.
He even gallops through Saint Helena.
THE DUKE.
Yes! I gallop!
[_General leave-taking and gradual departure._
MARIA LOUISA.
_So_ devoid of fancy!
MONTENEGRO.
[_Going._]
I know a place for supper where the cider--
CRIES.
[_Without._]
Good-bye! Good-bye!
GENTZ.
[_On the terrace._]
Don't talk about the hydra!
THERESA.
[_To_ TIBURTIUS.]
Brother, good-bye!
TIBURTIUS.
Good-by.
[_He goes out with_ BOMBELLES.]
MARIA LOUISA.
[_To the Maids of Honor, indicating_ THERESA.]
Show her her rooms.
[THERESA _goes out accompanied by the Maids of
Honor._ MARIA LOUISA _calls the Duke, who was
going toward the garden._]
MARIA LOUISA.
Franz!
[_He turns._]
Now I'm going to amuse you.
THE DUKE.
Really?
[SCARAMPI _carefully closes all the doors._]
MARIA LOUISA.
Hush!--I've conspired!
THE DUKE.
Mother! You!--Conspired!
MARIA LOUISA.
Hush! They've forbidden whatever comes from France-- But I have ordered secretly from Paris, From the best houses--Oh! my fop shall smile!-- For you, a tailor,
[_Pointing to_ SCARAMPI.]
and for us, a fitter.
I really think the notion--
THE DUKE.
Exquisite!
SCARAMPI.
[_Opening the door of_ MARIA LOUISA'S _apartment._]
Come in!
[_Enter a young lady, dressed with the elegance of a milliner's dummy, and carrying two great card-board dress-boxes, and a young man dressed like a fashion plate, who also carries two big boxes._]
THE TAILOR.
[_Coming down to the_ DUKE, _while the young lady unpacks the dresses on a sofa at the back._]
If you will favor me, my Lord-- I've here some charming novelties. My clients Are good enough to trust my taste: I guide them. The neck-cloths first. A languid violet; A serious brown. Bandannas are much worn. I note with pleasure that your Highness knows The delicate art of building up a stock. Here's a check pattern makes an elegant knot. How does this waistcoat strike your Lordship's fancy, Down which meander wreaths of blossoms?
THE DUKE.
Hideous!
THE TAILOR.
Will these, I wonder, leave your Highness cold? Here's doeskin. Here a genuine Scottish tweed. Bottle-green riding-coat with narrow cuffs; Extremely gentlemanly. Here's a waistcoat: Six-buttoned. Three left open. Very tasty. Now, what about this blue frock-coat? We've rubbed The newness off artistically. Worn With salt and pepper trousers, what a picture! We'll throw aside this heavy yellow stuff-- Can Hamlet wear the clumsy clouts of Falstaff?-- We'll pass to mantles, Prince. A splendid plaid, Demi-collar with simili-sleeves behind. Eccentric? Granted.--This, called the _Roulière_: Sober, a large, Hidalgo-like effect; The very thing to woo a Doña Sol in. Excellent workmanship; a silver chain; the collar Of finest sable; made in our own workshops; Simple, but what a cut! The cut is everything.
MARIA LOUISA.
The Duke is weary of your chatter.
THE DUKE.
No. He sets me dreaming. I'm not used to it. For when my tailor from Vienna comes I never hear these bright, descriptive words; And so this wealth of curious adjectives And all that seems to you mere vulgar chatter, Has moved me--stirred me. Let him be, dear mother.
MARIA LOUISA.
[_Going to the fitter._]
We'll look at ours. Shoulder of mutton sleeves?
THE FITTER.
Always.
THE TAILOR.
[_Displaying a pattern._]
This cloth is called Marengo.
THE DUKE.
What?
Marengo?
THE TAILOR.
Yes; it wears uncommon well.
THE DUKE.
So I should think. Marengo lasts forever.
THE TAILOR.
Your Highness orders--?
THE DUKE.
I have need of nothing.
THE TAILOR.
One always needs a perfect-fitting coat.
THE DUKE.
I might invent--
THE TAILOR..
To suit your personal taste? O client, soar to fancy's wildest heights! Speak! We will follow! That's our special line; Why, we are Monsieur Théophile Gautier's tailors.
THE DUKE.
Let's see--
THE FITTER.
A Panama with muslin trimmings--
That's not the sort of hat for everybody.
THE DUKE.
Could you make--
THE TAILOR.
Anything.
THE DUKE.
A--
THE TAILOR.
What you choose!
THE DUKE.
A coat?
THE TAILOR.
Assuredly.
THE DUKE.
Of broadcloth. Yes
But now the texture? Simple?
THE TAILOR.
Certainly.
THE DUKE.
And then the color. What do you say to green?
THE TAILOR.
Green's capital.
THE DUKE.
A little coat of green.
With glimpses of the waistcoat?
THE TAILOR.
Coat wide open!
THE DUKE.
Then, to give color when the wearer moves, The skirts are lined with scarlet.
THE TAILOR.
Scarlet!
Oh, ravishing.
THE DUKE.
Well, but about the waistcoat.
How do you see the waistcoat?
THE TAILOR.
Shall we say--?
THE DUKE.
The waistcoat's white.
THE TAILOR.
What taste!
THE DUKE.
And then I think
Knee breeches.
THE TAILOR.
Ah!
THE DUKE.
Yes.
THE TAILOR.
Any color?
THE DUKE.
No.
I rather think I see them white cashmere.
THE TAILOR.
Well, after all, white is the more becoming.
THE DUKE.
The buttons are engraved.
THE TAILOR.
That's not good style.
THE DUKE.
Yes; something--nothing--merely little eagles.
THE TAILOR.
Eagles!
THE DUKE.
Well? What are you afraid of, sir? And wherefore does your hand shake, master tailor? What is there strange about the suit of clothes? Do you no longer boast your skill to make it?
THE FITTER.
Coalscuttle bonnet neatly trimmed with poppies.
THE DUKE.
Take home your latest fashions and your patterns; That little suit's the only one I want.
THE TAILOR.
But I--
THE DUKE.
'Tis well. Begone, and be discreet.
THE TAILOR.
Yet--
THE DUKE.
'Twould not fit me.
THE TAILOR.
It would fit you.
THE DUKE.
What!
THE TAILOR.
It would fit you well.
THE DUKE.
You're very bold, sir!
THE TAILOR.
And I'm empowered to take your order for it.
THE DUKE.
Ah!
THE TAILOR.
Yes!
THE FITTER.
A flowing cloak of China crape;
Embroidered lining with enormous sleeves.
THE DUKE.
Indeed?
THE TAILOR.
Yes, Highness.
THE DUKE.
A conspirator?
Now I no longer wonder you cite Shakespeare!
THE TAILOR.
The little coat of green holds in its thrall Deputies, schools, a Peer, and a Field Marshal.
THE FITTER.
Spencer of figured muslin. Satin skirt.
THE TAILOR.
We can arrange your flight.
THE DUKE.
Should I agree I must beforehand--ay, and there's the rub-- Consult my friend Prince Metternich.
THE TAILOR.
You'll trust us When you are told our leader is your cousin The Countess Camerata.
THE DUKE.
Ah, I know!
The daughter of Elisa Baciocchi.
THE TAILOR.
The strange, unarmored amazon, who bears Her father's likeness proudly in her face, Seeks dangers, rides unbroken horses, fences--
THE FITTER.
A little sleeveless gown of lightest muslin.
THE TAILOR.
And when you know it's this Penthesilea--
THE FITTER.
The collar's only pinned, the shoulders basted--
THE TAILOR.
Who heads the plot I spoke of--
THE DUKE.
Give me proof!
THE TAILOR.
Turn round, your Highness; glance at the young person Who on her knees unpacks the clothes.
THE DUKE.
'Tis she! Not long ago I met her in Vienna, Wrapped in a cloak. She swiftly kissed my hand And fled, exclaiming, Haven't I the right To greet the Emperor's son who is my master? She is a Bonaparte! We are alike!-- Ay, but her hair is dark; not fair like mine.
MARIA LOUISA.
We'll try them on in there. Come, follow me. Only Parisians, Franz, know how to fit us.
THE DUKE.
Yes, mother.
MARIA LOUISA.
Don't you love Parisian taste?
THE DUKE.
It's very true they dress you well in Paris.
[MARIA LOUISA, SCARAMPI, _and the_ FITTER _go into_ MARIA LOUISA'S _apartment with the things they are to try on._]
THE DUKE.
Now! Who are you, sir?
THE TAILOR.
I? A nameless atom. Weary of life in mean and paltry times, Of smoking pipes and dreaming of ideals. Who am I? How do I know? That's my trouble. Am I at all?--It's very hard to "be." I study Victor Hugo; spout his odes-- I tell you this, because this sort of thing Is all contemporary youth. I spend Extravagant fortunes in acquiring boredom. I am an artist, Highness, and Young France. Also I'm carbonaro at your service. And as I'm always bored I wear red waistcoats, And that amuses me. At tying neck-cloths I once was very good indeed. That's why They sent me here to-day to play the tailor. I'll add, to make the picture quite complete, That I'm a liberal and a king-devourer. My life and dagger are at your command.
THE DUKE.
I like you, sir, although your talk is crazy.
THE YOUNG MAN.
You must not judge me by my whirling words; The itch of notoriety consumes me, But the disease beneath is very real, And makes me seek forgetfulness in danger.
THE DUKE.
Disease?
THE YOUNG MAN.
A shuddering disgust.
THE DUKE.
Your soul
Heavy with foiled ambitions?
THE YOUNG MAN.
Dull disquiet--
THE DUKE.
Morbid enjoyment of our sufferings, And pride in showing off our pallid brows?
THE YOUNG MAN.
My Lord!
THE DUKE.
Contempt for those who live content?
THE YOUNG MAN.
My Lord!
THE DUKE.
And doubt?
THE YOUNG MAN.
In what mysterious volume Has one so young learnt all the human heart? For that is what I feel.
THE DUKE.
Give me your hand! For, as a sapling, friend, which is transplanted, Feels all the forest in its ignorant veins, And suffers when its distant mates are hurt, So I, who knew you not, here, all alone, Felt the distemper stirring in my blood Which at this moment blights the youth of France.
THE YOUNG MAN.
Rather I think our malady is yours, For whence upon you falls this giant robe? Child, whom beforehand they have robbed of glory, Pale Prince, so pale against your sable suit, Why are you pale, my Prince?
THE DUKE.
I am his son.
THE YOUNG MAN.
Well! Feeble, feverish, dreaming of the past, Like you rebellious, what is left to do?-- We're all, to some extent, your father's sons.
THE DUKE.
You are his soldiers' sons: that's just as glorious. And 'tis no less redoubtable a burden; But it emboldens me, for I can say They're but the sons of heroes of the empire: They'll be content to take the Emperor's son!
THE COUNTESS CAMERATA.
[_Coming out of_ MARIA LOUISA'S _apartments._]
The scarf!--Oh, hush! I'm doing such a trade!
THE DUKE.
Thank you!
THE COUNTESS.
I only wish 'twere selling swords!
That silly baby-talk will be my death.
THE DUKE.
Warlike, I know.
A VOICE.
[_Within._]
The scarf!
THE COUNTESS.
I'm looking for it!
THE DUKE.
It seems this little hand can tame--
THE COUNTESS.
I love
A fiery horse.
THE DUKE.
You're mistress of the foils?
THE COUNTESS.
And of the sword!
THE DUKE.
Ready for anything?
THE COUNTESS.
[_Speaking toward the room._]
Indeed, I'm looking for it everywhere.
[_To the_ DUKE.]
Ready for anything for your Imperial Highness.
THE DUKE.
You're lion-hearted, Cousin!
THE COUNTESS.
And my name
Is glorious.
THE DUKE.
Which name?
THE COUNTESS.
Napoleone!
SCARAMPI'S VOICE.
[_Within._]
Well? Can't you find it?
THE COUNTESS.
No.
A VOICE.
Look on the piano.
THE COUNTESS.
I must be off. Discuss our great design.
[_With a cry, as if she had found what she was
looking for._]
Ah! here it is!
THE VOICE.
You've found it?
THE COUNTESS.
On the harp.
You understand, it's gathered up in folds--
[_She goes into_ MARIA LOUISA'S _room._]
THE YOUNG MAN.
Well? You accept?
THE DUKE.
I don't quite understand
Zealous Imperialism from a liberal--
THE YOUNG MAN.
True: a republican--
THE DUKE.
You come to me
Rather a long way round--
THE YOUNG MAN.
All roads to-day Lead to the King of Rome. My scarlet badge I thought unfading--
THE DUKE.
Faded in the sun?
THE YOUNG MAN.
Of Austerlitz! Yes! History makes us drunk. The battles which no more are fought, are told. The blood is vanished, but the glory gleams. So that to-day there is no he but _HE_! He never won such victories as now: His soldiers perished, but his poets live.
THE DUKE.
In short--
THE YOUNG MAN.
In short the huckstering times; the god They exiled; you, your touching fate, our weariness, And everything--I said--
THE DUKE.
You said as artist
'Twould be effective to be Bonapartist!
THE YOUNG MAN.
So you accept?
THE DUKE.
No.
THE YOUNG MAN.
What?
THE DUKE.
I listened well. And you were charming as you spoke, but nothing. No quiver of your voice, told me of France; You voiced a craze, a form of literature.
THE YOUNG MAN.
I've carried out my mission clumsily; Could but the Countess yonder speak!
THE DUKE.
No use. I love the bravery glowing in her eyes, But that's not France: that is my Family! When next you seek me, later, by and by, Let the call come through some untutored voice, Wherein rough accents of the people throb; Your Byronism is much too like myself. You could not have persuaded me to-night-- I feel myself unready for the crown.
THE COUNTESS.
[_Coming out of_ MARIA LOUISA'S _apartment._]
Unready? You?
[_She turns toward the room._]
Don't trouble; I'm just going.
And for the ball the white one, not the mauve.
[_Coming hastily toward the_ DUKE.]
Unready? What do you want?
THE DUKE.
A year of dreams,
Of study.
THE COUNTESS.
Come and reign.
THE DUKE.
My brain's not ripe.
THE COUNTESS.
The crown's enough to ripen any brain.
THE DUKE.
The crown of light, shed by the midnight lamp.
THE YOUNG MAN.
It's such a chance!
THE DUKE.
I beg your pardon? "Chance"?
Is this the tailor reappearing?
THE COUNTESS.
Yet--
THE DUKE.
I will be honest in default of genius. I only ask three hundred wakeful nights.
THE YOUNG MAN.
But this refusal will confirm the rumors.
THE COUNTESS.
They say you've never really been of us.
THE YOUNG MAN.
You are Young France: you're called Old Austria.
THE COUNTESS.
They say your mind is being weakened.
THE YOUNG MAN.
Yes!
They say you're cheated, even in your studies.
THE COUNTESS.
They say you do not know your father's history.
THE DUKE.
Do they say that?
THE YOUNG MAN.
What shall we answer them?
THE DUKE.
Answer them thus--
[_Enter_ DIETRICHSTEIN.]
Dear Count!
DIETRICHSTEIN.
'Tis Obenaus.
THE DUKE.
Ah! for my history lesson! Let him come.
[DIETRICHSTEIN _goes out. The_ DUKE _points to
the clothes scattered about._]
Spend as much time as possible in packing, And try to get forgotten in your corner.
[_Seeing_ DIETRICHSTEIN _come in with_ BARON VON
OBENAUS.]
Good-day, dear Baron.
[_Carelessly to the_ YOUNG MAN _and the_ COUNTESS,
_pointing to the screen._]
Finish over there.
[_To_ OBENAUS.]
My tailor.
OBENAUS.
Ah?
THE DUKE.
My mother's fitter.
OBENAUS.
Yes?
THE DUKE.
Will they disturb you?
OBENAUS.
[_Who has seated himself behind the table with_ DIETRICHSTEIN.]
Not at all, my Lord.
THE DUKE.
[_Who sits facing them, sharpening a pencil._]
I'm all attention. Let me sharpen this To note a date, or jot down an idea.
OBENAUS.
We'll take our work up where we last left off. Eighteen hundred and five, I think?
THE DUKE.
[_Busy with his pencil._] Exactly.
OBENAUS.
In eighteen hundred and six--
THE DUKE.
Did no event
Make that year memorable?
OBENAUS.
Which, my Lord?
THE DUKE.
[_Blowing the dust off the pencil._]
Why, eighteen hundred and five.
OBENAUS.
I beg your pardon, I thought you meant--h'm--Destiny Was cruel to the righteous cause. We'll cast Only a fleeting glance at hapless hours. When the philosopher with pensive gaze--
THE DUKE.
And so in eighteen five, sir, nothing happened?
OBENAUS.
A great event, my Lord! I had forgotten. The restoration of the Calendar. A little later, having challenged England, Spain--
THE DUKE.
[_Demurely._]
And the Emperor?
OBENAUS.
Which Emp--?
THE DUKE.
My father.
OBENAUS.
He--he--
THE DUKE.
Had he not left Boulogne?
OBENAUS.
Oh, yes.
THE DUKE.
Where was he, then?
OBENAUS.
Well, as it happened, here.
THE DUKE.
[_With mock amazement._]
Indeed?
DIETRICHSTEIN.
[_Hastily._]
He took great interest in Bavaria!
OBENAUS.
Your father's wishes in the Pressburg Treaty, As far as that went, chimed with those of Austria.
THE DUKE.
What was the Pressburg Treaty?
OBENAUS.
The agreement
Which closed an era.
THE DUKE.
There! I've smashed my point!
OBENAUS.
In eighteen hundred and seven--
THE DUKE.
So soon? How quick!
Strange epoch! Nothing happened in it!
OBENAUS.
Yes. For instance, take the House of the Braganzas: The King--
THE DUKE.
The Emperor, sir?
OBENAUS.
Which Emp--?
THE DUKE.
Of France.
OBENAUS.
Nothing of any consequence till eighteen-eight. Yet let us note the Treaty of Tilsit.
THE DUKE.
Was nothing done but making treaties?
OBENAUS.
Europe--
THE DUKE.
I see. A general survey?
OBENAUS.
I'll come to details
When we've--
THE DUKE.
Did nothing happen?
OBENAUS.
Well--
THE DUKE.
Well, what?
OBENAUS.
I--
THE DUKE.
What? What happened? Won't you tell me?
OBENAUS.
Well--
I hardly know--you're in a merry humor--
THE DUKE.
You hardly know? Then, gentlemen, I'll tell you! The sixth October, eighteen-five--
OBENAUS _and_ DIETRICHSTEIN.
[_Leaping to their feet._]
Eh? What?
THE DUKE.
When he was least expected, when Vienna, Watching the Eagle hover ere he swooped, Sighed with relief, The blow is aimed at London! Having left Strassburg, crossed the Rhine at Kehl, The Emperor--
OBENAUS.
Emperor!
THE DUKE.
Yes! and you know which!
Marches through Würtemberg, marches through Baden--
DIETRICHSTEIN.
Great Heavens!
THE DUKE.
Gives Austria a morning song, With drums by Soult, and trumpets by Murat! At Wertingen and Augsburg leaves his Marshals With here and there a victory to play with--
OBENAUS.
My Lord!
THE DUKE.
Pursues with wonderful manoeuvres. Arrives at Ulm before he's changed his boots. Bids Ney take Elchingen, sits down and writes A joyous, terrible, and calm despatch. Prepares the assault:--the seventeenth October Sees seven thousand Austrians disarmed, And eighteen generals at the hero's feet; And then he starts again!
DIETRICHSTEIN.
My Lord!
THE DUKE.
November
Finds him at Schönbrunn, sleeping in my bedroom.
OBENAUS.
But--!
THE DUKE.
He pursues! his foes are in his hand! One night he says "To-morrow!" and to-morrow Says, galloping along the bannered front-- A spot of grey among his brilliant staff-- "Soldiers, we'll finish with a thunderbolt!" The army is an ocean. He awaits The rising sun, and places with a smile This risen sun athwart his history!
OBENAUS.
Oh, Dietrichstein!
THE DUKE.
So there!
DIETRICHSTEIN.
Oh, Obenaus!
THE DUKE.
Terror and death! Two Emperors beaten by one! And twenty thousand prisoners!
OBENAUS.
I beseech you!
People might hear!
THE DUKE.
When the campaign was over-- The corpses floating on the freezing lake-- My Grandsire seeks my Father in his camp!
OBENAUS.
My Lord!
THE DUKE.
His _camp_!
OBENAUS.
Will nothing keep you quiet?
THE DUKE.
And so my Father grants my Grandsire peace!
DIETRICHSTEIN.
If any heard you!
THE DUKE.
And the conquered banners
Distributed! Eight to the town of Paris--
[_The_ COUNTESS _and the_ YOUNG MAN _have gradually
come out, pale and excited, from behind the
screen. They listen to the_ DUKE _with increasing
emotion, and suddenly the boxes they are
carrying slip from their hands._]
OBENAUS.
[_Turning and seeing them._]
Oh!
THE DUKE.
The Senate fifty!
OBENAUS.
Look! The man and woman!
DIETRICHSTEIN.
Be off with you!
THE DUKE.
Fifty to Notre Dame!
OBENAUS.
Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!
THE DUKE.
And banners!
DIETRICHSTEIN.
Take your things!
[_He pushes them out._]
Be off! Be off!
THE DUKE.
And banners! And still banners!
[THE COUNTESS _and_ THE YOUNG MAN _go._]
DIETRICHSTEIN.
They heard it all!
THE DUKE.
And banners!
DIETRICHSTEIN.
What a business!
My Lord!
THE DUKE.
I'm dumb!
DIETRICHSTEIN.
A little late, my Lord!
What will Prince Metternich--? These people here!
THE DUKE.
Moreover, that's as far as I have got. My dear professor--
[_He coughs._]
DIETRICHSTEIN.
Oh, you're coughing! Water!
THE DUKE.
I've made good progress with my history?
DIETRICHSTEIN.
And yet no books come near you! That I'm sure of!
OBENAUS.
When Metternich discovers--
THE DUKE.
You won't tell him!
The blame would fall on you.
DIETRICHSTEIN.
We'd best keep still,
And ask his mother to expostulate.
[_He knocks at_ MARIA LOUISA'S _door._]
The Duchess--?
SCARAMPI.
[_Appearing._]
She is ready. You may come.
[DIETRICHSTEIN _goes in._]
THE DUKE.
[_Mockingly to_ OBENAUS.]
Your course, _Ad usum_, sir, _Delphini_, sir, Is finished, sir!
OBENAUS.
I can't think how you learnt--!
[MARIA LOUISA _comes in in great agitation, in a
superb ball-dress, and with her cloak on._ OBENAUS
_and_ DIETRICHSTEIN _go out quietly._]
MARIA LOUISA.
Oh Heavens! what is't again? What must I hear? Perhaps you will explain--
THE DUKE.
[_Showing her the open window._]
My mother, look, The day is hushed, but for belated birds. Oh, with what tenderness the gloaming fades! The trees--
MARIA LOUISA.
What, you! Can you feel nature's beauty?
THE DUKE.
Perhaps.
MARIA LOUISA.
Perhaps you will explain--
THE DUKE.
Oh, mother, Inhale the perfume. All the forest floats Into the chamber on its breath!
MARIA LOUISA.
Explain!
THE DUKE.
With every gust a branch is wafted in! A fairer miracle than that which scared Macbeth; the forest is not walking only, Not like a mad thing walking; lo! on wings The scented evening sets the forest flying!
MARIA LOUISA.
What! You can be poetical!
THE DUKE.
At times.
[_Distant music is heard._]
Listen! A waltz. An ordinary waltz; Yet distance gives it dignity. Who knows? Journeying through the woods the master haunted. Under the cyclamen, among the bracken, It may have chanced upon Beethoven's soul!
MARIA LOUISA.
What! Musical as well!
THE DUKE.
Yes; when I choose. I do not choose! I hate the mystery Of sounds! And in a lovely sunset, feel With dread some fair thing growing soft within me!
MARIA LOUISA.
That fair thing in your heart, my son, is I!
THE DUKE.
You said it.
MARIA LOUISA.
Do you hate it?
THE DUKE.
I love _you_.
MARIA LOUISA.
Then think a little ere you do me harm. My father and Prince Metternich are so good! When the decree, for instance, made you Count, I said, Not Count; Duke at the least; for Duke Is something. And you're Duke of Reichstadt.
THE DUKE.
Lord of Gross-Bohen, Buchtiehrad, Tirnowan, Schwaden, Kron-Porsitschan--
MARIA LOUISA.
And then, the tact!
Your father's name was never mentioned once!
THE DUKE.
Why not have called me "Son of unknown Father"?
MARIA LOUISA.
With your estates and revenues you can be The pleasantest and richest Prince of Austria.
THE DUKE.
The richest Prince?
MARIA LOUISA.
And pleasantest--
THE DUKE.
Of--Austria!
MARIA LOUISA.
Enjoy your happiness.
THE DUKE.
I drain its lees.
MARIA LOUISA.
First in precedence after the Archdukes, Some day you'll marry with a fair Princess, Or an Archduchess, or perhaps a--
THE DUKE.
Ever I see what once my childish eyes caught sight of: His little throne, whose back was like a drum, And, made of gold, more splendid since Saint Helena. Upon that back the simple little N, The letter which cries No to time!
MARIA LOUISA.
But--
THE DUKE.
Yes!
The N with which he branded Kings!
MARIA LOUISA.
The Kings
Whose blood runs through your mother's veins and yours!
THE DUKE.
I do not need their blood! What use to me?
MARIA LOUISA.
A glorious heritage!
THE DUKE.
Oh, paltry!
MARIA LOUISA.
What!
Not proud to bear the blood of Charles the Fifth?
THE DUKE.
No! for it courses in the veins of others! But when I tell myself I bear in mine A Corsican Lieutenant's blood, I weep To see the thin blue trickle at my wrist.
MARIA LOUISA.
Franz!
THE DUKE.
And the old blood can but harm the new.
If I bear blood of Kings, let me be bled.
MARIA LOUISA.
Silence!
THE DUKE.
What am I saying, after all? If ever I had yours long since I've lost it. His blood and yours have fought in me, and yours Was put to flight, as usual, by the other.
MARIA LOUISA.
Peace, Duke of Reichstadt!
THE DUKE.
Metternich, the fool, Thought to scrawl "Duke of Reichstadt" o'er my name. But hold the paper up before the sun: You'll see "Napoleon" in the watermark!
MARIA LOUISA.
My son!
THE DUKE.
You called me Duke of Reichstadt? No! But would you have my veritable name? 'Tis what the people call me in the Prater As they make way: The Little Bonaparte! I am his son! and no one's son but his!
MARIA LOUISA.
You hurt me.
THE DUKE.
Ah, forgive me, mother, mother. Go to the ball, forget my frenzied words. You need not even trouble to repeat them To Metternich, my mother.
MARIA LOUISA.
Do you think so?
THE DUKE.
Softly the waltz floats through the evening air; No, tell him nothing; that will save you trouble. Forget it all: you, who forget so quickly!
MARIA LOUISA.
Yet--
THE DUKE.
Think of Parma, of the Sala palace, And of your happy life. Is this a brow To bear the shadow of an eagle's wing? Ah! but I love you more than you can think! And take no heed of aught--not even--O gods!-- Of being faithful: I'll be that for both. Come, let me thrust you gently toward the ball; Good-night, The mosses must not wet your feet. Your headdress is perfection.
MARIA LOUISA.
Do you think so?
THE DUKE.
The carriage waits. It's fine. The night is clear. Good-night, Mamma; enjoy yourself.
[MARIA LOUISA _goes out_. THE DUKE _sinks in a
chair before his table._]
Alas,
Poor mother!
[_His manner changes, and he draws books and
papers toward him._]
Now! to work!
[_The wheels of a departing carriage are heard.
The door at the back opens gently and_ GENTZ
_is seen introducing a woman wrapped in a
cloak._]
GENTZ.
She's gone.
[_He calls the_ PRINCE.]
Prince!
THE DUKE.
[_Turning and seeing him._]
Fanny?
FANNY ELSSLER.
Franz!
GENTZ.
[_Aside._]
Farewell to dreams of Empire!
FANNY.
[_In the_ DUKE'S _arms._]
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L'AiglonChapter I: Part 1
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