We'll place ourselves--
A PRINCESS.
[_To a child._]
Hush!
HARTMANN.
In that awful moment
When nothing can distract a Christian's thoughts
I'll softly ope the door. For one brief second
Your Highnesses will see his golden head;
Then I shall close the door, and thus he'll rise,
Not knowing he received, before the Court,
As usage dictates, the Viaticum.
METTERNICH.
Silence!
PROKESCH.
[_Who has just brought in the_ COUNTESS _and_ THERESA.]
They have permitted me to place you
Behind the Imperial Family, and thus,
Above the heads of Princes bent in prayer,
O'er whom mysterious fate is hovering,
And pallid children clasping pitiful hands,
For the last time you'll see the dying Duke.
THERESA.
Oh, thank you, thank you, sir!
HARTMANN.
Let no one stir
When the door opens!
MARIA LOUISA.
Ah! The sacring-bell!
A PRINCESS.
It is the Elevation!
[_All kneel._]
HARTMANN.
Gently!
THE COUNTESS CAMERATA.
[_To_ METTERNICH.]
Well,
Prince? Is there nothing you regret?
METTERNICH.
No, nothing.
I did my duty. Madam--often suffered
While doing it--for my country's weal, my master's,
And in defence of ancient privilege.
THE COUNTESS.
You've no regrets?
METTERNICH.
No. None.
MARIA LOUISA.
The _Agnus Dei_.
[_To_ HARTMANN, _who very gently opens the door
a very little way and peers through._]
Let not the door creak as you open it!
METTERNICH.
None. But he was a noble Prince. I kneel
To-day not only to the Lamb of God!
HARTMANN.
The Prelate has uncovered the Ciborium!
ALL.
Oh!
HARTMANN.
Rigid silence! I'm about to open!
ALL.
[_With emotion._]
Oh!
HARTMANN.
I open!
[_He silently thrusts the wings of the folding-doors
open. All the_ COURT _is prostrate. There is a
vague glimpse of candle light. A moment's
pause of profound emotion and silence_. THERESA
_slowly rises to look across the kneeling
forms; she looks and sees._]
THERESA.
[_Amid the sobs which overmaster her._]
Oh! to behold him thus!
[_Movement._ GENERAL HARTMANN _has swiftly
closed the doors. Everybody has risen._]
HARTMANN.
Retire! He heard the sobbing!
[_All have hurried toward the door on the right,
but the door on the left opens quickly; the_ DUKE
_appears on the threshold and sees them all standing
before him. After a long look which takes
in the situation:_]
THE DUKE.
Ah!--I see.
[_He draws himself up, and comes toward them
with sudden majesty._]
I thank the breaking heart that broke the silence;
Let her who wept feel no remorse for weeping:
They had no right to rob me of my death.
[_To the_ ARCHDUKES _and_ ARCHDUCHESSES, _who
withdraw respectfully._]
But leave me now, my Austrian family!
"My son was born a Frenchman; until death
Let him remember that." And I remember.
[_To the_ PRINCES _who are leaving._]
Farewell.
[_To the others_.]
Whose was the breaking heart?
THERESA.
[_Who has remained humbly on her knees in a corner._]
My Lord--!
THE DUKE.
[_Approaching her, and speaking with great tenderness._]
You are not very reasonable! Once
Over your book you wept to see me live
An Austrian Prince with flowers in my coat;
And now you weep because that life has killed me.
THERESA.
The tryst--
THE DUKE.
Well?
THERESA.
I was there.
THE DUKE.
Alas, poor soul!
THERESA.
Yes--
THE DUKE.
Why?
THERESA.
Because I love you.
THE DUKE.
[_To the_ COUNTESS.]
Madam,
You hid this from me. Why?
THE COUNTESS.
Because I love you.
THE DUKE.
[_To_ THERESA _and the_ COUNTESS.]
Who brought you both to see me?
[THERESA _and the_ COUNTESS _look at the_ ARCHDUCHESS.]
THE DUKE.
[_To the_ ARCHDUCHESS.]
You?
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
Myself.
THE DUKE.
Why so much thoughtfulness?
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
Because I love you.
THE DUKE.
Women have loved me as they love a child--
[_The_ THREE WOMEN _make a gesture of protest._]
Ah, yes! The child they pity, spoil, and shelter--
And with maternal fingers, on my brow
Still sought the golden curls which Lawrence painted.
THE COUNTESS.
No, no! We knew the struggles of your soul!
THE DUKE.
And history itself will not record
The Prince whose soul was seared with all ambitions,
But see the solemn, rosy, fair-haired child
Tricked out in laces in his little goat-cart,
Holding the globe as 'twere an air-balloon.
MARIA LOUISA.
Speak to me! I am here! Give me a word
To soothe remorse, for through no fault of mine
I was too small beside your mighty dreams.
I have the thriftless conscience of a bird!
The tinkling bells that jangle in my brain
Have never ceased till now. Look at me now!
Speak to me now! Forgive me now!
THE DUKE.
O God!
Inspire me with the deep, yet tender word
With which a son forgives his mother.
MARIA LOUISA.
Franz,
The cradle which you asked them for last night--
A LACKEY.
'Tis here.
[_He goes out to fetch it._]
THE DUKE.
[_Looking at_ METTERNICH.]
Ah, my Lord Chancellor, I die
Too soon for you; and you should weep.
METTERNICH.
My Lord--!
THE DUKE.
I was your weapon and my death disarms you!
Europe, which never dared to say you nay,
When you were he who could unchain the Eaglet,
Listening to-morrow, will take heart, and say
"I do not hear it stirring in its cage!"
METTERNICH.
My Lord! My Lord!
[_The great enamelled cradle is brought in._]
THE DUKE.
The cradle Paris gave me!
My splendid cradle, Prudhon's masterpiece!
Amidst its gold and mother-o'-pearl I slept,
A babe, whose christening was a coronation.
Place it beside this little bed, whereon
My Father slept when victory fanned his slumbers.
Closer! until its laces graze the sheets.
Alas! how near my cradle to my death-bed!
[ _He points to the gap between the cradle and the
bed._]
And all my life lies in that narrow space!
THERESA.
Oh!--
THE DUKE.
In that gap, too narrow and too dark,
Fate ne'er let fall a single pin of glory.
Lay me upon the bed.
DIETRICHSTEIN.
How pale he grows!
THE DUKE.
Ah, I was greater in my cradle, than
I am upon this bed; and women rocked me--
Yes, I had three to rock me, and they sang
Their strange old songs: dear songs of Mistress Marchand!
Oh, who will lull me now with cradle-songs?
MARIA LOUISA.
Is not your mother here to sing to you?
THE DUKE.
Do you know any songs of France?
MARIA LOUISA.
Why--no.
THE DUKE.
[_To_ THERESA.]
And you?
THERESA.
Perhaps.
THE DUKE.
Oh, sing below your breath.
"The rain falls, Shepherdess" and "May is come,"
And sing "Upon the bridge that spans the Rhone,"
That I may sleep, rocked on the people's fancy.
There was a song I used to love; sing that:--
There was a little man,
And he was clad in gray--
THERESA.
Break, tender heart, as broke the heart of iron--
THE COUNTESS.
A crystal, shattered by a brazen echo--
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
A harp-string, shattered by a battle-song--
THERESA.
A lily sinking silently on laurels.
THE DOCTOR.
My Lord is very ill. Stand more apart.
THERESA.
Farewell, François--!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
Farewell, Franz!
THE COUNTESS.
Farewell, Bonaparte!
MARIA LOUISA.
Alas, his head grows heavy on my shoulder!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
Duke of Reichstadt!
THE COUNTESS.
King of Rome!
THERESA.
Poor child!
THE DUKE.
[_Deliriously._]
The horses! horses!
THE PRELATE [WAGNER].
Let us fall to prayer!
THE DUKE.
Horses! that I may ride to meet my father!
MARIA LOUISA.
Will you not let me wipe away your tears?
THE DUKE.
No, for the Victories, my sisters--Lo!
I see them! see them! in a headlong flight
Draw nigh to lave their glory in my tears!
MARIA LOUISA.
What are you saying?
THE DUKE.
Nothing. Did I speak?
Hush! Father, that's our secret: yours and mine!--
My funeral will be ugly. Mumbling women;
Lackeys with torches; droning Capuchins;
And then they'll lock me in their crypt--and then--
MARIA LOUISA.
Tell me your sufferings, child!
THE DUKE.
Oh! Superhuman!--
And then, official mourning for six weeks.
THE COUNTESS.
He snatches at the cradle's lace, as if
To make a winding sheet--
THE DUKE.
It will be ugly--
I must remember how they christen better
In Paris than they bury in Vienna.
General Hartmann!
HARTMANN.
Prince!
THE DUKE.
Yes--while I wait
For death, I'll rock my childhood--
[_He hands_ GENERAL HARTMANN _a book from
under his pillow._]
Here--
[GENERAL HARTMANN _takes the book. The_ DUKE
_falls to rocking the cradle._]
I rock
My past--I rock my past--As though
The Duke of Reichstadt rocked the King of Rome.
General--I marked a place--
HARTMANN.
I see it.
THE DUKE.
Good. While I'm dying, read aloud--
MARIA LOUISA.
No, no!
You shall not die!
THE DUKE.
You may begin to read.
HARTMANN.
[_Standing at the foot of the bed and reading._]
"Toward seven o'clock the Calvary appear,
Forming the head of the procession--"
MARIA LOUISA.
[_Falling on her knees in a paroxysm of sobs._]
Franz!
HARTMANN.
"The people, shaken with great sobs of joy,
Utter a shout:--'Long live the King of Rome!'--"
MARIA LOUISA.
Franz!
HARTMANN.
"And the guns salute; the Cardinal
Receives their Majesties, and so the pageant
Moves up the aisle as ancient rules prescribe.
The Ushers, Kings-at-Arms, their chief, the pages,
The various officers of the staff, the--"
[_Noticing that the_ DUKE _has closed his eyes, he
stops._]
THE DUKE.
[_Opening his eyes._]
Yes?
HARTMANN.
"The Chamberlains, the Prefects of the palace,
Ministers, Masters of the Horse--"
THE DUKE.
[_With failing voice._]
Go on.
HARTMANN.
"Marshals of France, Grand Eagles; and Princess
Aldobrandini holds the chrisom-cloth;
The Countesses Vilain and de Beauvau
Bring in the ewer and the salt-cellar--"
THE DUKE.
[_Still paler and growing rigid._]
Read on, sir. Mother--mother--lift me up.
[MARIA LOUISA, _assisted by the_ PRELATE _and_
DOCTOR MALFATTI, _raises him on his pillows._]
HARTMANN.
"Then the Grand Duke, who took on this occasion
The Austrian Emperor's place as Sponsor: then
Queen Hortense, and the Imperial Godmother;
Lastly, the King of Rome, borne by Her Grace,
The Duchess of Montesquieu. His Majesty,
Whose healthy mien the crowd observed with joy,
Wore a great silver mantle, lined with ermine,
Whose train His Grace the Duke of Valmy bore.
Princes--"
THE DUKE.
Omit the Princes.
HARTMANN.
[_Turning over a page._]
"Kings--"
THE DUKE.
Omit
The Kings. The end, sir; read the end--
HARTMANN.
[_Turning over several pages._]
"And when--"
THE DUKE.
I cannot hear you. Louder.
DOCTOR MALFATTI.
[_To_ WAGNER.]
The last agony.
HARTMANN.
[_Raising his voice._]
"And when the Herald thrice within the choir
Had cried 'Long live the King of Rome!' before
They handed back the baby to its nurse,
The Emperor gently took it from--"
[_He hesitates, with a glance at_ MARIA LOUISA.]
THE DUKE.
[_With infinite nobility and placing his hand with tender
forgiveness on the head of_ MARIA LOUISA, _who is kneeling
at his side._]
The Empress!
HARTMANN.
"And raised it to receive the acclamation.
The loud--"
THE DUKE.
[_Whose head drops._]
Mamma!
MARIA LOUISA.
[_Throwing herself across his body._]
François!
THE DUKE.
[_Opening his eyes._]
Napoleon!
[_He sinks back._]
HARTMANN.
"The loud _Te Deum_ filled the sanctuary.
And all that night, throughout the realm of France,
With equal pomp, solemnity, and joy--"
DOCTOR MALFATTI.
[_Putting his hand on the_ GENERAL'S _arm._]
Dead!
[_Silence. The_ GENERAL _closes the book._]
METTERNICH.
Clothe him in his Austrian uniform.
CURTAIN.