Oh, Flambeau, time has passed; the ancient love
These worthy people bore us must have died.
Flambeau.
Their love of you, my Lord? Why that's immortal!
[He takes from about his person the various articles
mentioned in the following scene.]
The Duke.
Why, Flambeau, what is that?
Flambeau.
A pair of braces.
The Duke.
Have you gone mad?
Flambeau.
Just look and see what's on 'em!
The Duke.
My portrait!
Flambeau.
Worn by quite a decent class.
The Duke.
But Flambeau—
Flambeau.
Will you take a pinch of snuff?
The Duke.
I—
Flambeau.
On the box a little curly head.
The Duke.
'Tis I!
Flambeau.
And what about this handkerchief?
Eh! Not so bad, the little King of Rome?
The Duke.
But—
Flambeau.
Colored print to paste upon your walls.
The Duke.
Again! on horseback!
Flambeau.
Yes, and caracolling.
How d'you like this pipe?
The Duke.
But tell me, Flambeau—
Flambeau.
You cannot say they haven't drawn you handsome!
The Duke.
I—
Flambeau.
A cockade, to tease the government.
The Duke.
What's that?
Flambeau.
A medal. Trivial fancy goods.
The Duke.
Still I?
Flambeau.
Still you. Look here, what words are ground
Upon this tumbler?
The Duke.
"Francis, Duke of Reichstadt."
Flambeau.
Of course you can't get on without a plate—
The Duke.
A plate?
Flambeau.
A knife, a napkin-ring, an egg-cup.
They've made you look so happy on the egg-cup!
The table's laid, my Lord: my Lord is served!
The Duke.
[With increasing emotion.]
Flambeau—
Flambeau.
On everything. Here's a cravat
In which you're woven riding in the clouds;
And playing cards of which you're Ace of Spades—
The Duke.
Flambeau!
Flambeau.
And Almanacs—
The Duke.
Flambeau!
Flambeau.
And everything!
The Duke.
Flambeau!
Flambeau.
What, weeping? Take this handkerchief
And dry your eyes upon the King of Rome!
[He kneels by the Duke's side and wipes his eyes
with the handkerchief.]
I bid you strike the iron while it's hot:
You've got the people and you've got the Marshals,
The King, the King himself, is only King
On one condition: that he's Bonapartist.
Vainly the Gallic cockerel spreads his wings
That, from a distance, he may seem an eagle.
We Frenchmen cannot breathe inglorious air;
The crown must slip from off a pear-shaped head.
The youth of France will rally to your side
Merrily shouting songs of Béranger—
The street has shuddered and the pavement trembled,
And Schönbrunn's not so pretty as Versailles!
The Duke.
I will accept.
[Military music is heard.]
Ha!
Flambeau.
[At the window.]
In the Court of honor
The trumpets of the Guard. The Emperor
Is coming home.
The Duke.
My grandfather! My promise!
[To Flambeau.]
No; before accepting—
Flambeau.
Damn it!
The Duke.
Listen!
I must make one attempt with him; but if
When you are here on guard to-night, you see
Something—that you're not used to seeing here—
It is a signal! I will fly.
Flambeau.
Latude!
What will the signal be?
The Duke.
You'll see.
Flambeau.
But if—
[An officer of the Noble Guard enters.]
The Officer.
My Lord—
Flambeau.
[Taking stock of him.]
The beggars! Aren't they gorgeous swells!
The Duke.
Well?
The Officer.
As the Emperor passed, they came and said,
"O Sire, this is the one day in the week
Whereon your Majesty receives his subjects;
Many have come from far—" "I'd thought of it,"
Replied the Emperor, smiling; "and I hope
To see them. I'm at Schönbrunn as a grandfather,
I shall be with the Duke from five to six:
Let all my children be beside my grandson."
May they come up?
The Duke.
Yes! open all the doors!
[The Officer goes out.]
The Duke.
[To Flambeau.]
Now quickly make a bundle of these treasures.
I'll look at them at leisure in my room.
Flambeau.
I make the bundle in the handkerchief.
But tell me what the signal is to be.
The Duke.
Oh, never fear! you will not fail to know it.
But—do you hear them? That's the Austrian Hymn.
Flambeau.
My word! It isn't worth the Marseillaise!
The Duke.
The Marseillaise—well? have you tied the ends?
My father used to say it wore mustachios.
Flambeau.
Their blessed national hymn has scented whiskers.
The Duke.
It wouldn't be bad fun to enter France,
Thus, with my bundle on my back, on foot.
Flambeau.
How cheerful and how funny you can be!
This is the first time I have seen you so.
The Duke.
What? Rather young and merry? Thank you, Flambeau.
Curtain.
THE THIRD ACT
Scene: The same as in the previous act.
A miscellaneous crowd of men, women and children are discovered on the rising of the curtain. They are being placed in order by an Officer.
The Officer.
Line up. Be quiet. Boy, behave yourself.
The Emperor enters here; so leave a passage.
You, giant Highlander, don't scrape your feet.
A Man.
Will he pass here?
The Officer.
Yes; and he'll take your papers.
Hold your petitions so that he can see them.
No tedious twaddle—Ah!—and you're forbidden
To kneel when he comes in.
A Woman.
Forbidden or not,
That won't prevent us—
[The Emperor enters quite simply, without being
announced. All the people, in spite of the warning,
fall on their knees.]
The Emperor.
Rise, my children, rise.
[He passes from one to the other, taking their
papers. To a Woman.]
Your pension's doubled.
The Woman.
Sire!
>
The Emperor.
[To a Man.]
What? What? A team
Of oxen? That's expensive!—Granted.
The Man.
Father!
The Emperor.
[Reading another paper.]
Granted.
A Woman.
Father Franz—
The Emperor.
What, you? All well
At home?
The Woman.
Oh, so-so.
The Emperor.
Well, old woman? Well?
The Old Woman.
Why, don't you see, the wind has killed my chickens.
The Emperor.
Granted.—A vocalist?
The Vocalist.
I yodle.
The Emperor.
Come
And yodle to the Court at Baden.
The Chamberlain.
Name?
The Vocalist.
Schnauser.
The Emperor.
A Highlander?
The Highlander.
Out yonder
My home is, on the mountains, in the skies.
I want to be a cabman in Vienna.
The Emperor.
Well, so you shall.
[Taking another paper.]
A wealthy husbandman
Begs Franz to give him back his daughter's love
Which a Bohemian glass-blower has stolen.
[Handing back the paper.]
You'll wed your child to her Bohemian lover.
The Husbandman.
But—
The Emperor.
I'll endow him.
The Chamberlain.
Name?
The Husbandman.
Johannes Schmoll.
I kiss your hands.
The Emperor.
[Taking another paper.]
"A shepherd of the Tyrol,
A friendless orphan, robbed of all his land,
Driven from his homestead by his father's foes,
Yearns for his native woods and skies"—how touching!—
"And his paternal meadow." 'Tis restored.
The Chamberlain.
What is the shepherd's name, who asks for help?
The Shepherd.
The Duke of Reichstadt! And the meadow's France!
The Emperor.
[To the Petitioners.]
Begone!
[All go.]
What's this?
The Duke.
It seems if I were only
A mountain shepherd or a forester,
With nothing to attract your notice, Sire,
Save a cock's feather in my huntsman's hat,
You would have drawn me to your melting heart.
The Emperor.
But Franz—!
The Duke.
Ah, now I know why all your subjects,
All those who are unhappy, call themselves
Your sons as much as we; but is it just,
Sire, is it just, that I, when I'm unhappy,
Have less of kinship than the least of these?
The Emperor.
But why just now—for I must scold you, sir—
When I was busy with these wretched people—
Why come to me just now, and not in private?
The Duke.
I wished to find you when your heart was open.
The Emperor.
My heart—my heart!—You're somewhat over-bold!
The Duke.
I know that you can do the thing I ask,
That I am wretched almost past endurance,
And that you are my Grandfather—that's all.
The Emperor.
But there is Europe—England—above all,
There's Metternich.
The Duke.
You are my Grandfather.
The Emperor.
You don't know half the difficulties.
The Duke.
But
I am the grandson of your Majesty.
The Emperor.
But—
The Duke.
Sire, in whom alone I place my trust,
Be Grandfather a little while!
The Emperor.
But I—
The Duke.
Just for a moment drop the Emperor.
The Emperor.
Ah, what a coaxing way you always had.
The Duke.
You know I cannot bear you when you look
Like the great portrait hanging in the throne-room,
With the ermine cloak and Golden Fleece upon you;
But here, like this, I like you very much.
With the dear silver of your floating hair,
Your kindly eyes, your simple coat and waistcoat;
For now you're just a dear old gentleman,
By whom a grandchild might be petted.
The Emperor.
Petted!
The Duke.
Are you not bored to see the heavy jowls
Of Louis-Philip on the coins of France?
The Emperor.
Hush! hush!
The Duke.
Do you adore these podgy Bourbons?
The Emperor.
You are not like your cousins the Archdukes.
The Duke.
Indeed?
The Emperor.
Where did you learn your saucy tricks?
The Duke.
I learnt them playing in the Tuileries.
The Emperor.
Ah, you come back to that?
The Duke.
I wish I could.
The Emperor.
Can you recall those days?
The Duke.
Oh, only vaguely.
The Emperor.
Can you recall your father?
The Duke.
I remember
A man who pressed me hard against a star,
And as he pressed I felt with tears of fright
The diamond star was stamped upon my heart:
Sire, it has stayed there!
The Emperor.
Do I blame you for it?
The Duke.
Yes, let the goodness of your nature speak!
When I was small you loved me, did you not?
You loved to have me with you at your meals,
And so we used to dine together—
The Emperor.
Charming.
The Duke.
My hair was long, and I was Prince of Parma;
And when they punished me you let me off.
The Emperor.
Do you remember how you hated ponies?
The Duke.
One day they showed me one as white as snow;
I stamped with fury in the riding-school.
The Emperor.
You thought a pony was a deadly insult.
The Duke.
I cried with rage: I want a great, big horse!
The Emperor.
And now you want another great, big horse!