QUEEN AND EMPEROR
Characters: King Frederick William III and Queen Louisa of Prussia; their two sons, the Crown Prince Fritz and his younger brother William; their infant daughter Louisa. The Countess Voss, Mistress of the Queen’s Household. Baron von Hardenburg, Generals Scharnhorst and Blücher. Two Maids of the Queen’s retinue. The infant Princess’s Nurse. Of these only the principals need appear. The others may be inferred from being addressed. Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of France; Talleyrand-Perigord, his Minister of Foreign Affairs.
Scene: A hall in a house at Tilsit.
Time: July, 1807.
To render this scene effective great care must be exercised in the stage management. The Queen throughout is the pivotal person, the central figure. At no moment is the full group in view; the characters press forward as the text requires, those invisible lending their assistance by exclamations indicative of the emotions roused—hatred of Bonaparte, love of the Fatherland, and the like. In minor details historical accuracy has obviously been sacrificed to dramatic effect. The two princes did not accompany their mother to Tilsit, Princess Louisa was not born till the year following the truce. Nor does Richter’s painting, the final tableau, represent the Tilsit lodging. The main story, however, lies close to fact. In the short dialogue between mother and lads the general pictorial effect should follow the painting by Steffeck, Queen Louisa and Her Two Elder Sons on the Luisenweg near Koenigsberg. For the scene between the Queen and Napoleon a hint may be gathered from Gosse’s picture. Portraits of Frederick William III, Countess Voss and others may be found in historical works. The final tableau shows Richter’s painting of Queen Louisa. For this, by a simple mechanical contrivance the picture area must be narrowed, the frame closing in so as to present the solitary figure on the stairs in the right picture-proportion.
[As the curtain rises the Queen’s maids laden with wraps and hand-baggage are seen, disappearing up the stair. The royal party enters from the left, the King, bareheaded, escorting the Queen, who is in travelling attire.]
The King.
This, dear one, is our lodgment. Poor the best
The fiend allows us.
[He sighs. The others groan.]
The Queen.
[Cheerfully.]
The fiend allows us. It will serve. A comb,
Water to cleanse this travel-soil, and then—
Napoleon!
[The others sigh heavily.]
The King.
[With solicitude.]
Napoleon! Louisa, did I well
To countenance your coming? Hardenberg,
The Czar, all think your woman’s wit may win
Some peace for Prussia far beyond the terms
The monster yields to our diplomacy!
But an that devil Corsican you fear
To meet—!
The Queen.
To meet—! I fear!
[Laughs.]
To meet—! I fear! Daughter of Mecklenburg,
And Frederick William’s wife!
[Kisses the King.]
And Frederick William’s wife! That I may fail,
Ah, that alone I fear! And yet if one,
One fort, one smallest village, aye, one foot
Of earth for our belovèd Fatherland
I gain I shall not wholly fail!
[The King embraces her, while the others cry “Long live her Gracious Majesty Queen Louisa.” The Queen, having acknowledged the demonstration, continues.]
I gain I shall not wholly fail! What mannered brute
This mushroom Emperor?
[Checks the King who is about to reply.]
This mushroom Emperor? Nay; tell me not.
I’ll meet him unprepared, unprejudiced.
The King.
A brute describes it. Just a brute, replete
With ill-got conquest. Tyrant, petty, mean.
The Czar, myself, his guests enforced, his slaves,
Almost I said!—he heaps with insult, guised
As compliment!
[The others groan.]
As compliment! Oh, we must dine with him!
Our sweet society he’ll not forego!
And so, bethink you, I, who love the meal
At homely noon, now eat at eight at night!
Not born to such convention, yet the beast
Would change the clock, elect himself a god—
Napoleon!
[Great demonstration from the rest.]
The Countess Voss.
[Impressively.]
Napoleon! He apes the English. More,
He passes them! Their heathen dinner hour
Absorbs the afternoon, I’m told, from four
To five!
[A shocked murmur from all.]
The Queen.
[Excited.]
To five! Hope! Hope! Huzzah! A ray of hope,
The first! Who apes, mark you, that thing he fears;
And by that thing he fears will some day fall!
O little upstart, self-elected god,
Invincible no more proclaim yourself!
Unwitting your Achilles heel you’ve bared!
Oh, I could hug those English!
The King.
[With a caress.]
Oh, I could hug those English! Optimist!
[Sighs heavily again.]
Noon or nocturne, his bread sticks i’ my throat!
The pliant Alexander smiles, digests!
But I—
[Breaks off with emotion.]
But I— ’Tis for my Prussia!
[Cries of “Long live His Gracious Majesty.”]
The Queen.
[With a caress.]
But I— ’Tis for my Prussia! Dearest one!
The hour of tryst approaches! Take the boys!
[The Princes come forward.]
’Tis ages since you’ve seen them. Mark their growth!
And you, dear Voto
[addressing Countess Voss],
And you, dear Voto look to baby!
[The Nurse with the Infant advances. The Queen shows the King.]
And you, dear Voto look to baby! See!
The love!
The Countess Voss.
The love! Her Royal Highness lacks a name!
The King.
Louisa for her peerless mother! Yet,
O hapless child, our kingdom in the dust,
What crownèd heads will dare to sponsor thee?
The Queen.
A fig for kings and queens who hold aloof
From sorrow! Goethe, Schiller, all
Blood-princes of the realm of intellect,
In spirit lay your hands upon her brow!
And, present, Blücher, grim old warrior;
Dear Scharnhorst, who have cleft your upward way
With consecrated sword to noble heights;
Germans of Germany, where’er ye bide,
Godparent this poor infant; guide her steps
In ways God-fearing, like your own, to Heav’n!
[Presenting the child to the group. All press about her with great demonstration and cries of “Long live Her Royal Highness Princess Louisa!”]
They go, singing: “All hail, our Gracious King!
Long live our noble King, God save the King!”
The King.
You’d hearten stones!
[Kisses her hands.]
You’d hearten stones! Until we meet again!
Prince William.
[Clinging to the Queen’s right arm.]
I’ll go pick you some cornflowers. And yet
’Tis said that blossoms blue mean hope deferred,
Desires beyond fulfilment!
The Queen.
Desires beyond fulfilment! Thus they bring
Sky to our earth!
The Crown Prince.
[On the Queen’s left.]
Sky to our earth! Stoop, Mother. Whisper low.
You’re fighting for the throne ... my throne to be!
Yet ... whisper! I don’t want to be a king!
Poor father, see how sad it makes him! Then
Last Christmas did not Santa Claus pass by
Our wretched palace? No gift-laden tree
He brought, for, sooth, we’re children of a king!
The Queen.
[Tenderly.]
My Fritz, our burdens ’tis not ours to choose!
Come, lift your head! That’s my brave lad! Now say
The little catechism that we made
Together!
The Crown Prince.
Together! Crown Prince am I
Of Prussia.
Prince William.
[Takes his brother’s hand.]
Of Prussia. I am your next brother!
Both Princes.
And in our veins flows blood of Frederick
The Great. And we do dedicate our lives
To our lov’d Fatherland to set it free!
[Each then takes a hand of the Queen and kisses it. They join their father. Prince William suddenly runs back to his mother. Napoleon, attended by Talleyrand, enters on the left. They pause, unseen by the Germans, listening.]
Prince William.
Is’t true the devil Bonaparte has horns,
Cleft hoof, and tail?
The Queen.
[Between laughter and tears.]
Cleft hoof, and tail? Indeed I would ’twere true,
For that would make me laugh instead of—
[Turns, runs upstairs with a slightly hysterical laugh. The boys go off with their father. Napoleon and Talleyrand advance, laughing.]
Talleyrand.
A flattered portrait, Sire, they paint of you!
Napoleon.
[Shrugs shoulders.]
Our guest, dear Frederick William the Third
Of Prussia has been writing letters home!
[Takes snuff.]
Talleyrand.
The lady’s tardy!
Napoleon.
The lady’s tardy! Early rather I.
My whim to catch her off her guard! Poor soul,
We’ll grant her grace to don her bauble crown!
Talleyrand.
Interpreted, which favor means the terms
Of Tilsit’s Truce the Tilsit Peace will stand,
Unmodified by fair Louisa’s plea?
Napoleon.
Now, Talleyrand, much as I love the sex,
Whene’er did woman’s wiles deflect my star?
Talleyrand.
[Shrugs shoulders.]
Or soon or late the greatest conqueror—
’Tis writ on high! his Armageddon meets.
To witness, Cæsar!
Napoleon.
[In sudden panic.]
To witness, Cæsar! Talleyrand! You mean
Some ambuscade, some Brutus’ dagger waits
My breast?
Talleyrand.
[With malign joy.]
My breast? Oh, Sire! The name upon my lips
Was Cleopatra’s!
Napoleon.
[Recovers poise.]
Was Cleopatra’s! Pish! Scoffer, begone!
For, hark! Yon nervous clearing of the throat,
A dainty frou-frou, and light-tripping step
Announce my suppliant!
[Urges Talleyrand off at the left.]
Talleyrand.
Announce my suppliant! Surely you need
Protection, Sire?
Napoleon.
Protection, Sire? From Cleopatra? Nay;
I’m Cæsar, not Mark Antony!
[Talleyrand bows and goes. The Queen, attired as in Richter’s picture, but crowned, as in Gosse’s, descends. Napoleon meets her halfway, takes her hand, conducts her down a stair.]
The Queen.
[Curtseying.]
Your Imperial Highness!
Napoleon.
[Bowing over her hand.]
Your Majesty!
[Releases her.]
Your Majesty! Welcome to Tilsit!
The Queen.
I thank you, Sire. But Tilsit’s Prussian soil!
So Tilsit cries its own welcome to me!
Napoleon.
[Aside.]
Impertinent!
The Queen.
Impertinent! But you, Sire, find yourself
In Tilsit welcome?
Napoleon.
[Bows with mock courtesy.]
In Tilsit welcome? Thanks. On Prussian soil
Myself, my legions, count ourselves at home!
The Queen.
[Sighs.]
Not mine with you to bandy words. I come
To—
[Looking up for the first time breaks off with a start.]
Napoleon.
[Maliciously.]
Aha! Confess you miss horns, hoof and tail!
The Queen.
[With sincerity.]
I own, your portraits wrong you, only show—
[Breaks off.]
Napoleon.
Speak freely!
The Queen.
Speak freely! So, or not at all. They show
An—well, adventurer!
Napoleon.
An—well, adventurer! And so I am!
The Queen.
Yet who to arrogance of conquest brings
The brow of Cæsar’s innate majesty!
Napoleon.
[Aside.]
The Siren, would she Cleopatra me?
Best be on guard! Permit like compliment.
A queen? A goddess rather. Child of Zeus,
Athene. Aphrodite’s self!
The Queen.
Athene. Aphrodite’s self! Pray, Sire,
Spare mockery. In print for all to read
Have you set forth disparagement of me:
“Cheap intrigante,” and “would-be Joan-of-Arc,”
“A petticoated politician who
“The State embroils, sheds blood for pastime!” Worst,
My wifely fame have you not scorned to slur!
Napoleon.
Madame, upon my honor. I protest—
The Queen.
We’ll put that by. Not for myself, I plead
For Prussia.
Napoleon.
For Prussia. Well, with Prussia what’s amiss?
The Queen.
A fatal malady. Surfeit of France!
Napoleon.
A general infection, so it seems,
Through Europe. To return to petticoats,
What fabric this?
[Touching a fold of the Queen’s dress.]
The Queen.
[Bitterly.]
What fabric this? Chiffons? At such time, Sire,
Shall we discuss chiffons!
Napoleon.
Shall we discuss chiffons! ’Twould interest
The Empress.
The Queen.
The Empress. Josephine—her heart, ’tis said,
Is kind. Her husband she adores, as I
Mine. O, to my entreaties might she add
Her gentle voice!
Napoleon.
[Aside, bitterly.]
Her gentle voice! Children this woman bears,
Sons, lusty, beautiful! In fine, Madame,
What will you?
The Queen.
What will you? Germany for Germans; that,
No more, no less!
Napoleon.
[Sneering.]
No more, no less! Too modest the request!
The Queen.
We ask but for our own!
Napoleon.
We ask but for our own! What, with my troops
In Berlin, Danzig, Magdeburg?
The Queen.
In Berlin, Danzig, Magdeburg? What’s that
But hostile occupancy, while the toll
You claim as war’s indemnity, sad price
Of brave young blood that had been better spent,
Is highway robbery?
Napoleon.
Is highway robbery? By any name
Shall I exact it.
The Queen.
[Advancing a step.]
Shall I exact it. Ah, Napoleon!
You love your kin. A thousand proofs declare
How close the tie. So dear, dearer, to me
My children!
Napoleon.
[Aside.]
My children! Sons, princes of royal blood
Bears she her mate!—So close, indeed, kin’s tie
That brothers, sisters, and in-laws I crown
Sov’reigns!
The Queen.
[With sarcastic laughter.]
Sov’reigns! Kings, queens, made overnight,
Turned out by wholesale from a factory,
And dealt out broadcast, like a pack of cards,
Over the map! Like poets, kings are born,
Not made. It takes an ancestor or so,
Some generations, to produce a lawn,
A monarch, and a gentleman!
Napoleon.
[Bows.]
A monarch, and a gentleman! Some hold
That genius is sufficing ancestry!
You think, Madame, the skies will fall unless
On Prussia’s throne a Hohenzollern sits?
The Queen.
[Bows assent.]
While Hohenzollern draws the breath of life,
Born, bred to lofty service, in the name
Of country, home and God, with heart that beats
Within a mighty people’s heart! Napoleon,
Leave not the Fatherland a cripple, maimed,
Broken of spirit. Take your victor’s slice,
But one small portion, independent, free,
Leave to our ancient right and privilege!
Napoleon.
A healthy, growing little enemy
Outside my gates?
The Queen.
Outside my gates? Not so. Your neighbor, friend!
Napoleon.
My friends I buy—and sell my neighbors!
The Queen.
My friends I buy—and sell my neighbors! Then
God help you!
Napoleon.
God help you! As He does. God always fights
Upon the side with big Battalions!
The Queen.
God help you in the day when Germany
Returns your call in France!
Napoleon.
Returns your call in France! Not mine that day!
The Queen.
Not yours; a Hohenzollern’s. We shall live,
Despite Napoleon!
The Princes.
[Without.]
Despite Napoleon! Mother! Where’s our mother!
Napoleon.
Despite Napoleon! Mother! Where’s our mother! Sons!...
Your Majesty, deign to accept....
[Plucks a rose and offers it to the Queen.]
The Queen.
Your Majesty, deign to accept.... Dear God!
I ask a kingdom and he offers me....
Napoleon.
A rose, no less, no more!
The Queen.
A rose, no less, no more! Alas! We fail.
’Tis Heaven’s will we fail! My comfort this;
The worse our failure, speedier our day
Of vindication. Triumphs bought with blood,
Empires founded on hate, by hatred fall.
Undompted England has a word to say.
And, lo! the first weak point your armor shows,
Your admirable poise the least disturbed,
Without a neighbor, friend, God pity you!
We Germans fail to-day, our treasure drained,
Our lands partitioned, e’en ourselves enslaved.
And yet to the last gasp our hearts beat high
For Germany, our souls belong to God!
[She makes a low obeisance and retires upstairs.]
Napoleon.
A plague upon the woman with her sons!
[Throwing down the rose and trampling on it.]
Talleyrand.
[Entering from the left.]
You called me, Sire?
Napoleon.
[Sardonically.]
You called me, Sire? You eavesdropper!
Talleyrand.
You called me, Sire? You eavesdropper! Ah, say,
You diplomat!
[Both laugh.]
You diplomat! And how found you the Queen?
Napoleon.
A handsome woman with a fluent tongue.
Ye gods, how she ran on!
[Affects to yawn.]
Talleyrand.
[Aside.]
Ye gods, how she ran on! How he is moved,
All white and trembling! And the Tilsit Peace?
Napoleon.
Remains as drafted.
Talleyrand.
Remains as drafted. Not one single point
Conceded to the lady?
Napoleon.
Conceded to the lady? Did I know
Terms harsher than we’ve made—!
Talleyrand.
[Picking up the rose.]
Terms harsher than we’ve made—! Your Majesty
Has dropped this peace-token?
Napoleon.
[Snatching the rose, throws it back into the face of the Minister.]
Has dropped this peace-token? You devil, you!
[He strides off to the left. Talleyrand laughs silently. The lights are lowered.]
Talleyrand.
[Looks toward an unseen window.]
A storm? A passing cloud!
The Princes.
[Outside, call.]
A storm? A passing cloud! Oh, Mother, dear!
Talleyrand.
[Musingly.]
To-day, Napoleon’s! But in the end....
The King.
[Outside, calling.]
Louisa!
The Princes.
Louisa! Mother!
[Talleyrand takes a pinch of snuff and follows Napoleon.]
The Queen.
[Answering, calls.]
Louisa! Mother! Coming, dears!
[The lights, now bright, show her, in a narrowed frame, descending the stair, as in Richter’s picture. She pauses, reflecting.]
The Queen.
[To herself.]
Louisa! Mother! Coming, dears! Failure!
As advocate for Germany, I’ve failed!
And yet—
The King.
[Heard, nearer.]
And yet— Louisa!
The Princes.
[Nearer.]
And yet— Louisa! Mother!
The Queen.
And yet— Louisa! Mother! Coming, dears!
[The curtains close on her, as she pauses, holding a thought of hope, in spite of present failure, for the future of Germany.]