SCENE ONE.
A PRISON.
(_To the left, the cell door. To the right, a barred window. At the
back, a folding bench, fastened against the wall._)
THE KING.
(_Sings to a lute._)
With an ivy wreath my brow was dressed,
In my locks there sparkled the dew;
A pair of falcons above my crest
Wove circles in the blue.
From the balcony, in joyous vein,
My mother beckoned and smiled;
At e'en thy father will come again,
In victor's garb, my child.
(_He leans the lute against the wall, sinks down upon a stool at the
back of the cell and plaits a straw mat._)----I am thirsty.----Is it
really so late in the day?----How time passes here! (_He rises and
looks curiously upward through the window._) By the Lord, the sun is
beginning to glide along the south wall of the tower!----Time for the
water jug! (_He fetches an earthen jug from the corner and stands
expectantly before the door._)----He will soon come!----Did I ever
enjoy a drink while I was king as I do the fresh draught of water which
I have received daily at this hour for the last twelfthmonth? I believe
it's a stroke of good fortune that I was never in jail during my own
reign.
(_The door opens noisily and a rough voice outside calls, "Water jug!"
The King hastily sets the jug outside the door and returns inside the
cell. The door slams shut, but is reopened immediately and the jailer
enters._)
THE JAILER.
Zounds and death, Gigi, how did you smash the jug? Silence, you dog!
There's a hole in the jug. It was sound yesterday. I'll pitch into you
so that your face will bleed! You take me for your servant because
lately I haven't watched you so closely. You'll get it now so that your
hair will turn white! Show your work!
(_The King produces the unfinished straw mat._)
THE JAILER.
That your day's work! You won't get a bit of bread until you finish
five times that amount! (Throwing the mat down at his feet.)
There!----Now I'll inspect your cell. Look out for yourself! I won't
let you out of this hole alive!
(_Putting his hands behind him, he goes step by step along the wall
from door to window, examining it from top to bottom, and turning
around now and then at the prisoner, who stands motionless in the
middle of the cell._) What does that spider web mean up there? The
fourth disciplinary punishment for eight days! (_Turning around._) You
still know the seven disciplinary punishments by heart?----Hey, Gigi?
THE KING.
I know them by heart.
THE JAILER.
First disciplinary punishment?
THE KING.
Deprivation of privileges.
THE JAILER.
I'll smash that lute of yours to bits; you fritter away your working
hours with it!----Second disciplinary punishment?
THE KING.
Deprivation of work.
THE JAILER.
Then see how you will spend your time! In eight days you won't be able
to stand on your legs!----Third disciplinary punishment?
THE KING.
Deprivation of a soft bed at nights.----My bed is as hard as if it were
stuffed with pebbles!
THE JAILER.
Silence! This rascal would like to sleep in the hay. ----Fourth
disciplinary punishment?
THE KING.
Reduction of rations.
THE JAILER.
Bread and water from to-day for eight days!----Do your hear?!----Fifth
disciplinary punishment?
THE KING.
Imprisonment in darkness.
THE JAILER.
Sixth disciplinary punishment?
THE KING.
Imprisonment in fetters.
THE JAILER.
By that you must understand you are chained all awry, so that after the
first hour all the devils you have in your body say good-bye to you!
Seventh disciplinary punishment?
THE KING.
Flogging.
THE JAILER.
(_Having reached the window._) You shall shed your hide here yet! You,
you thief, shall clamber up and down the Jacob's ladder until you fall
dead. (_He passes in front of the King, leaves the cell and shuts the
door from the outside._)
THE KING.
(_Looks after him in surprise. Then quite calmly, with quiet
deliberation, he turns toward the door._) What does it mean? Where have
I made a mistake? For a whole year I believed that in the course of a
year I had educated this beast into a human being. Suddenly, after all
that trouble, he drops back again into the animal kingdom.----Or did I
dream?----It is impossible entirely that the jug should have been
broken. I drank out of it this morning. He will break it now outside
and then show me the pieces. Will he let me go thirsty today? Will he
let me thirst?----I fear worse!----At any rate I shall receive him with
a look that will make his eyes sink to the ground. (_Bracing himself._)
Help me, kingly majesty, in order that the fellow may realize his
baseness of his own accord!----(_Listening._) He's coming!----A duel
without weapons, man against man!
(_The door opens noisily. Princess Alma enters, clad as in the
preceding act and carrying a jug with both her hands. The door closes
loudly behind her._)
THE KING.
(_With the fright of immoderate joy._) Alma?! My child!----Oh, beastly
spite!
ALMA.
O Father, I cannot embrace you now! I bring you this jug of wine.
THE KING.
(_Struggling for breath, with both hands at his breast._) Oh, satanic
cruelty!----(_Takes the jug from her and sets it to one side._) Whence
come you, my child? For twelve months I've thirsted for a sight of you!
You are living yet, you are whole and well. Speak, how is it with you
among miserable mankind?
ALMA.
We have only a few minutes! At last I have been able to bribe the
jailer, and from now on he will let me visit you once a week. Tell me
quickly how I can lighten your sufferings.
THE KING.
My sufferings?----Yes! What a father I am to throw my child unprotected
upon the world! That is my sorrow!----Otherwise, I thank God daily that
He has separated me from mankind by these six-foot walls, so that I am
safe from them!
ALMA.
You can see from my appearance, Father, how good people are to me. I am
still in the service of the notary. Only tell me what I may bring you
to strengthen you! What frightful torments you must have endured here!
THE KING.
No, no, my child! Do not bring me anything unfamiliar into this
solitude! You don't know how time passes here with the speed of the
wind. In the beginning I scratched seven hundred and thirty marks on
that wall, to have the daily joy of rubbing one of them out. But soon I
had to blot them out by the week or by the month. And now I see with
dread how quickly they grow less and less, so that the last will soon
be gone and I will have to seek refuge once more under overhanging
rocks and contend with wolves for their booty!----But do not let my
words sadden you! You cannot guess how the jailer prepared me for your
coming!
ALMA.
I think with silent horror of how fiendishly he will torment you!
THE KING.
How you imagine things! To do that he would have to be more than the
weak earthworm he is. No cruelty can keep pace with my callousness. Do
you know, he has shed tears of compassion here without having heard the
least complaint from me! Who could so degenerate as not to be thankful
when his better self finds unexpected recognition!----He could not help
begrudging me the joy of seeing you again, my child. But the cowardly
anxiety which springs from his calling is responsible for that. The
poor man is so jealous of the ridiculous little authority vested in him
by his bunch of keys that the kindness he has shown me to-day makes him
afraid of becoming entirely superfluous. But didn't you suffer need in
order to buy the good will of this rascal?
ALMA.
Speak not of me, Father. Time is passing and I don't know how I can
help you!
THE KING.
Really, I don't know either! Were I an abler man, my fate might perhaps
seem more pitiable to me. Poor as I am, I only tremble at the moment
when those iron doors shall protect me no longer, when those barred
windows shall prevent them reaching me, when I shall stand again among
people with whom I have no mutual understanding and from whose
activities I am excluded more than ever by the sentence of the
law.----If you only knew how painlessly this solitude heals the gaping
wounds of the soul. The judge thought he was adding to my punishment
when he sentenced me to solitary confinement. How deeply I have thanked
him that I do not have to live here in association with other men!
ALMA.
(_Bursting into tears._) Lord God in Heaven! Then you don't want to see
me here again!
THE KING.
(_Caressingly._) I repay your sacrifice with discontent and ill humor.
Thoughts become heavy and sluggish when a man continues talking to
himself day in and day out.----Only this I ask of you; when freedom is
restored to me, leave me to my fate--not forever, only until I show
myself worthy of your greatness of soul.
ALMA.
Oh nevermore! Do not ask me ever to leave you! It is impossible that
the future should be as bad as the past!
THE KING.
Not for you. I believe that gladly.
ALMA.
Melancholy has mastered you in this gloom. Your proud heart is almost
ready to break. Nothing can be read in your face of the quiet peace you
pretend to feel.
THE KING.
I have not seen my face for a year, but I can imagine how ugly it has
grown. How my looks must wound your feelings!
ALMA.
Oh, do not talk like that, father!
THE KING.
But you know my imperturbable nature. And now you come in, the only
thing to make my happiness complete. It is only to reward you richly
and splendidly that I would become a king again.
ALMA.
I hear the jailer! Tell me how I can lighten your sufferings!
THE KING.
(_Sinks down on the stool exhausted, half to himself_:) What do I lack?
How frightful this prison would become if the pleasures of life were
admitted here! How can I desire here a beautiful woman, where I cannot
even conjure up a recollection of beauty! My couch there is shut during
the day. There is no other resting-place, and I lie down there at night
as weary as if I had ploughed an acre. And in the morning the clanging
bell wakes me from dreams more serene than those I dreamed as a child.
(_As the door is opened._) When you see me again, my child, you will
hear no more complaints. You shall feel as happy with me as if you were
outside in your sunny world. Farewell!
ALMA.
Farewell, Father! (_She leaves the cell. The door clangs behind her._)
THE KING.
A whole long year vet!----(_He goes toward the wall._) I will just
count the marks again and see how many remain to be rubbed out.
SECOND SCENE.
NIGHT. A WASTE.
(_Enter the King, Princess Alma, with her father's lute on her back,
and a circus rider._)
THE KING.
Have we much further to go, brother, before we come to the place where
the beggars' fair is to be held?
THE CIRCUS RIDER.
We shall be there by midnight, at the latest. The real fair does not
begin until then. This must be the first time you have made this
pilgrimage to the gallows?
THE KING.
It is only a few moons since we joined the strollers, but,
nevertheless, we have danced at many a witches' sabbath.
THE CIRCUS RIDER.
It seems to me, brother, somewhere you have unlearned marching.
Otherwise you are a robust enough fellow.
THE KING.
(_Sitting down on a boulder._) My heart beats against my ribs like a
caged bird of prey. The road leads up-hill, that takes my breath!
THE CIRCUS RIDER.
We have plenty of time.----Your boy, brother, is very much better on
his legs. It's a pity about him! With me he could learn something more
profitable than singing street ballads to the lute. Everywhere, that's
considered not much better than begging. Let him go with me, brother,
if only for half a year! At any rate, it would not be worse for him
than following in your footsteps, and I'll make a rider out of him
after whom the circus managers will break their necks!
THE KING.
Don't take me for an ass, dear brother; how can you make my boy succeed
as a circus rider when you yourself must trudge afoot!
THE CIRCUS RIDER.
You are as suspicious as if you had kegs full of gold at home, while
from all appearances you don't remember when you had warm food last!
You won't get anywhere that, way! To-night at the beggars' fair we
shall meet at least half a dozen circus managers. They gather there to
look for artists to appear with them. Then you will see, you poor
devil, how they will contend for me and how one will outbid the other!
Thank God, I am not so unknown as you, you gutter singers! And if I get
my job again, I shall have horses enough for your merry boy to break
his neck the first day, if he has the mind!
THE KING.
Tell me, brother, does one find theatre managers too at the beggars'
fair?
THE CIRCUS RIDER.
Theatre managers too, certainly. The theatre managers come there from
all over the country. Where else would they get their dancers and their
clowns! Frankly, brother, it seems very doubtful to me your getting an
engagement. You don't look as if you could act a farce.
THE KING.
But there is a higher art, called tragedy!
THE CIRCUS RIDER.
Tragedy, yes, I have heard that name!----I understand nothing about
that art, dear brother. I only know that it is miserable poor
pay.----(_To Alma._) Now, my brave lad, doesn't your mouth water for
better fodder?----Do you want to learn circus riding with me?
THE KING.
(_Getting up._) Forward, brother, do not let us miss the beggars' fair.
Fortune only offers us her hand once a year!
(_Exeunt._)
SCENE THREE.
(_Night. The gallows looms in the background. Forward, to the left, is
a gigantic boulder, beneath a gnarled oak, which serves the performers
as a stage. In front of it flickers a huge bonfire, about which are
gathered the spectators, men, women and children, in fantastic
raiment._)
(Chorus)
[Illustration: music]
Both in town and country beds,
With their windows tightly fastened, honest folk are
drowsing.
Those with no home for their heads
Dance with merry spectres 'neath the gallows tree carousing.
Exiles from the sun's bright light,
Fortune's tracks we still can follow in the dark obscurely,
And are lords in our own sight
While in heaven the friendly stars twinkle quite demurely.
A THEATRE MANAGER.
(_In a bass voice to an actor._) Show me what you have learned, my
worthy young friend. _Hic Rhodus hic salta_! What is your act?
THE ACTOR.
I act the fool, honored master.
THE THEATRE MANAGER.
Then act the fool, young friend, but act him well! Difficile est
satiram non scribere! My public is used only to the best!
THE ACTOR.
I will give you a sample of my art at once.
THE THEATRE MANAGER.
If you find favor in my eyes, young friend, you shall have a hundred
soldi a month. _Pacta exacta----boni amici_! Go, young friend, and give
your proof.
(_The Actor mounts the rock. He is received with hand-clapping and
cries of "bravo" by the spectators._)
THE ACTOR.
(_Breaks first into laughter, then speaks the following lines,
accompanying each couplet with a different kind of titter._)
Count Onofrio was a man
As stupid as a ram,
And he had daughters seven
He wanted paired up even.
Their way no suitor bent his legs.
Rotten eggs! Rotten eggs!
THE AUDITORS.
(_Have interrupted this effort several times with hisses and whistles.
At the last words they pelt the actor with clumps of earth, while with
shrill whistling they repeat the words._) Rotten eggs! Rotten eggs!
THE THEATRE MANAGER.
(_Blaring out above the rest of the noise._) Down with the rascal! A
page! The Lord God created him in wrath! _Alea est jacta_!
(_The Actor leaves the rock._)
(_Chorus._)
Nor believe not, human brood,
That pursuit of idle dreams fills our whole existence;
Lovers' ways are somewhat crude
When the night wind dead men's bones rattles with
persistence!
(_The King, Princess Alma and a Procuress appear on the scene._)
THE PROCURESS.
Now, ballad singer, how much will you take for that pretty boy of
yours?----Listen to the pleasant clang of the goldpieces in my pocket!
THE KING.
Just now a circus rider wanted to buy him from me. Leave me and my boy
in peace! I didn't come to the beggars' fair for this. Besides, what
can you want with my boy!
THE PROCURESS.
Don't think I am so stupid, ballad singer, that I can't see that your
boy is a girl! The sweet child will find a mother in me, more full of
love for her than any one in the wide, wide world. (_To Alma_.) Don't
tremble so, my pretty little dove! I won't eat you! When one grows up
with such a pretty figure and such a round, rosy face, with fresh
cherry lips and dark glowing eyes, one sleeps beneath silken covers and
not in the open fields. You will not have to play the lute with me.
Only to be charming. What pleasanter life can sprightly young blood
desire? You will meet ministers of state and barons at my house; you
will only have to chose. Have you ever been kissed by a real baron?
That tastes better than a tramp's unshaven face!----Look here, ballad
singer! Here are two undipped ducats. The girl belongs to me! It's a
bargain!
THE KING.
Go snick up, you and your gold!----(_To Alma._) That fool woman, in her
stupidity, really takes you for a girl in boy's clothes! Why aren't
you? If you were a girl, there would be no better opportunity than this
to rid yourself of the bristly ballad singer! There is nothing worse
than passing 'round the hat for pennies. Perhaps you have already
gathered pennies thrown you by the compassionate foster-daughters of
this worthy dame?! They always have a chance of being forced again into
the exalted ranks of burghers' society as worthy members. Our star is
not in the ascendant.
THE PROCURESS.
(_To Alma._) Don't allow this vagabond to set your head whirling, for
Heaven's sake, my dear! You don't know how cozy my house is! The whole
day you can amuse yourself with a band of the liveliest companions. If
the ballad singer won't sell you to me, let's run away from him. Don't
be afraid of him! You will be as safe under my protection as if you
were surrounded by a whole army corps.
ALMA.
(_Wrenching herself from the Procuress grasp._) I will speak to him.
(_Goes from her to the King. With trembling voice._) Do you remember,
my father, why we came to this beggars' fair?
THE KING.
I know, my child. (_He mounts the rock and is received until dry
coughs. Then he speaks in a clear tone, but with inward emotion._)
I am the ruler over all this land,
By God anointed, but by no one known!
And should I shriek until the mountains bent
That I am ruler over all this land,
The very birds would chirp a mock at me!
What profit then is this, my kingly thought
When hungering I snap with eager teeth,
As in the winter months the starving beasts?
But not to make a plaint of all my woes
Come I, my folk, to you!
THE SPECTATORS.
(_Break into shrill laughter, applaud stormily and cry loudly._) Da
capo! Da capo!
THE KING.
(_Anxiously and with embarrassment._) Kind audience! My specialty on
the stage is great and serious tragedy!
THE SPECTATORS.
(_Laughing loudly._) Bravo! Bravo!
THE KING.
(_With all the force of his soul._) What I have just told you is to me
the dearest, the holiest thing that I have kept in the depths of my
soul until now!
THE SPECTATORS.
(_Give vent to a new storm of approval, from out of which the words can
be plainly heard_:) A remarkable comedian! An unusual character actor!
THE THEATRE MANAGER.
(_Who has mounted a rock back of the crowd in order to hear better._)
Finish your monologue, my dear young friend! Or does your poor brain
harbor only these few crumbs?----_Si tacuisses, philosophus mansisses!_
THE KING.
Very well, then! But I ask you from my heart, kind audience, to give my
words the earnest meaning which belongs to them! How shall I succeed in
moving your hearts, if you do not believe the plaints which come from
my mouth!
THE SPECTATORS.
(_Laugh and applaud enthusiastically._) What a pose he assumes!----And
such droll grimaces!----Go on with your farce!
THE THEATRE MANAGER.
(_Hissing._) Children! Children! Nothing is worse for the actor than
applause! If you succeed in making him overvalue himself, the poor
rogue will be capable only of the lowest kind of trash! _Odi profanum
vulgus et arceo!_ (_To the King._) Continue, my son! It seems to me as
if your parodies might amuse my enlightened public!
THE KING.
(_Seeking by every means to invest his speech with earnestness._)
I am the ruler! To your knees with you!
What mean these bursts of mad, indecent mirth!
'Tis my own fault that here, in this my realm,
None knows me more. My sentinels slumber,
My doughty warriors serve another's wage.
I lack that highest earthly might, the gold!
Still, ever yet, was there a rightful king
Who spent his time in counting out his coin?
That task he graciously accords to slaves!
The farthing, soiled with sweat of tradesmen's toil
Was never struck with an intent to smirch
The hands of those anointed of the Lord!
THE SPECTATORS.
(_Breaking out into the wildest laughter._) _Da capo!_
----Bravo!----_Da capo!_
A THEATRE MANAGER.
This man is a brilliant satirist! A second Juvenal!
THE KING.
(_As before._)
I am the ruler!----He of you who doubts
Let him stand forth!----I'll prove my claim to him!
I was not wont before to praise myself,
But now the world has robbed me of that pride.
To him who wears a dagger at his hip
I'll teach the art of sinking it with grace
Into his foeman's breast; so that the duel,
From a rude spectacle of sweat and blood,
Becomes as pleasant as an el fen dance
And even death puts on a sweeter garb!----
I am the ruler!----From the herd of barbs
Bring me the wildest of unbroken steeds;
Nor trouble you with saddle nor with bit;
Let him but feel my heels press in his flanks
He'll pant beneath me in the Spanish gait
And from that time be tractable to ride.
I am the ruler! Come unto the feast!
The world is distant with its petty ills,
The evening star illuminates our meal,
From distant arcades mellow songs arise.
The guest may wander through the twilight green
Where, from the shelter of a plashing fall,
The sportive nymphs will lure him with their wiles.
I am the king! Go fetch a maiden here!
Let her be chaste as is the morning dew!
I'll not awake her innocent alarms;
I come a beggar with an empty scrip;
Six steps away from her I'll stand. Warn her
'Gainst wiles of Satan! 'Ere a star grows pale
I'll move, not only body, but her son!
Bring me the truest wife among them all!
She soon shall doubt if loathing or if faith
Is greater pander to the lusts of flesh
And, doubtingly, shall offer me her lips.
I am the king! What child is here as small
In hands and feet, or even in his joints!
With scorn I look upon you as you laugh,
Your feet may jig, your hands may fan the air,
The brains within your skulls are very stale!
So be it!----Will the slimmest maiden here
Venture to dance with me in trial of skill?
She never knew the bloody task of war
And all her joints are quite as small as mine.
(_As nobody offers, to Alma._) Reach me a torch, my child!
(_Alma takes a glowing brand from the bonfire and hands it to the King.
Then, standing at the foot of the rock, she plays a melody on her
lute._)
(_The King gracefully and with dignity dances a few steps of a courtly
torch dance, then throws the glowing brand back into the fire._)
(_The Spectators give vent to prolonged applause._)
THE ACTOR.
(_Rising from amid the spectators, in a tone of parody._)
I am the monarch over all this land----
THE SPECTATORS.
Down with the barber's assistant. He has no appreciation! Strike him to
earth!
THE THEATRE MANAGER.
Quod licet Jovi, non licet bovi!----(_To the King, who has left the
rock._) I will engage you as ballet master and character actor and
offer you a hundred soldi a month.
ANOTHER THEATRE MANAGER.
(_Speaking in a falsetto voice._) Hundred soldi, hi, hi, hi? A hundred
soldi will the skinflint give you?----I wave a hundred and fifty in
your face, you rascal! What do you say, hi, hi, hi?----Will you now or
won't you?
THE KING.
(_To the First Theatre Manager._) Don't you think, honored master, that
I am rather a tragedian than a comedian?
THE FIRST THEATRE MANAGER.
You haven't the least trace of talent as a tragedian; as character
actor, on the contrary, there is no chance of it going ill with you
again in this world. Believe me, my dear friend, I know these kings. I
have eaten dinner with two of them at once! Your king's monologue is
the caricature of a real king and will be valued as such.
THE SECOND THEATRE MANAGER.
Don't let yourself be hoodwinked by this horse dealer, you rascal! What
does he know about comedy! I have studied my profession at the
universities of Rome and Bologna. How about two hundred soldi, hi, hi,
hi?
THE FIRST THEATRE MANAGER.
(_Clapping the King on the shoulder._) I'll give you three hundred
soldi, my dear young friend!
THE SECOND THEATRE MANAGER.
I'll give you four hundred soldi, you dirty rogue, hi, hi, hi!
THE FIRST THEATRE MANAGER.
(_Giving the King his purse._) Here is my purse! Put it in your pocket
and keep it as a souvenir of me!
THE KING.
(_Pocketing the purse._) Will you engage my boy, too?
THE FIRST THEATRE MANAGER.
Your boy? What has he learned?
ALMA.
I play Punchinello, honored master.
THE FIRST THEATRE MANAGER.
Let me see him at once, your Punchinello.
ALMA.
(_Mounts the rock and speaks in fresh, lively tones._)
Fortune's pranks are so astounding
That her whims none can foresee;
Sure, I find them so confounding
Smiles nor tears come not to me.
Heaven itself is scarcely steady,
O'er our heads it's turning yet,
Mankind then had best be ready
For a daily somerset.
Mischief, when his legs can trip it
When his arms are pliant still
Is so lovable a snippet
That he's sure of your good will!
THE SPECTATORS.
(_Show their approval._)
THE FIRST THEATRE MANAGER.
I'll engage this puppy as the youngest Punchinello in the
business.----We will wander to-night _per pedes Apostulorum_ to Siena,
where my company presents tragedy, farce and tragic-comedy. From thence
to Modena, to Perugia----
THE KING.
Before we reach Perugia, I shall have to break my contract. I am
banished that city under pain of death.
THE FIRST THEATRE MANAGER.
Under what name did that happen to you, my young friend?
THE KING.
I am called Ludovicus.
THE FIRST THEATRE MANAGER.
I name you Epaminondas Alexandrion! That was the name of a wonderfully
talented comedian who eloped with my wife a short time ago. _Nomen est
omen!_----Come, my children. (_Leaves with the King and Alma._)
CHORUS.
Soon the sun will rise in state,
Us to scatter for a year; here and there upon the wind,
Driven by relentless Fate,
To hunt illusive phantoms none of us can ever find.