[They surround him. The pages raise their torches.]
ELECTOR [bending over him]: What kind of leaves are those he’s twining? Willow branches?
HOHENZOLLERN: Willow! Good heavens, no, Excellency! It’s laurel—like the wreaths he’s seen on heroes’ portraits in the armory in Berlin.
ELECTOR: Where could he have found such a bush in the sandy soil of my Brandenburg?
HOHENZOLLERN: God only knows.
COURTIER: Perhaps in the garden in back of the castle where the gardener cultivates all kinds of exotic plants.
ELECTOR: My word, how really strange this is. Well, in any case, the important thing is to find out what’s occupying this young fool’s mind.
HOHENZOLLERN: What else? Tomorrow’s battle, Your Excellency! I’d like to bet he’s seeing heavenly fortunetellers weaving him a crown of shining suns for his victory wreath.
[The Prince looks at the wreath.]
COURTIER: He’s finished now.
HOHENZOLLERN: It’s really too bad we don’t have a mirror here. I’m sure he’d walk up to it and try on the wreath, as vain as any girl, tilting it this way and that like a flowered hat.
ELECTOR: By God, I must see how far he’ll go.
[The Elector takes the wreath out of his hands. The Prince blushes and stares at him. The Elector then winds his chain of office around the wreath and gives it to the Princess. The Prince stands up in agitation. The Elector retreats with the Princess, who holds up the wreath. The Prince follows her with outstretched arms.]
PRINCE [whispering]: Natalia! My darling! My bride!
ELECTOR: Hurry! Let’s get away from him!
HOHENZOLLERN: What did the fool say?
COURTIER: What were his words?
[They all go up the ramp.]
PRINCE: Friedrich! My Prince! My father!
HOHENZOLLERN: Damn it all!
ELECTOR [retreating backward]: Just open the door!
PRINCE: Oh, mother!
HOHENZOLLERN: The madman! He is . . .
ELECTRESS: Whom is he calling “mother”?
PRINCE [reaching for the wreath]: Oh, my dearest! Why are you drawing back from me? Natalia!
[He snatches a glove from the Princess’s hand.]
HOHENZOLLERN: Good God! What did he take?
COURTIER: The wreath?
NATALIA: No, no!
HOHENZOLLERN [opening the door]: Here, Your Majesty, quickly! Come inside! Let this whole tableau suddenly vanish from his sight!
ELECTOR: Back into the darkness with you, Prince of Homburg! Into nothingness! Nothingness! If it suits your convenience, we’ll meet again upon the field of battle. The things you seek cannot be won by dreaming.
[They all leave. The door clangs shut in the Prince’s face. Pause.]
SCENE 2
[For a moment the Prince stands silently in front of the door with an expression of bewilderment on his face. Deep in thought, he then goes down the ramp, the hand holding Natalia’s glove pressed against his forehead. When he reaches the bottom, he turns around and looks up again at the door.]
SCENE 3
[Count Hohenzollern enters from below through a garden gate. He is followed by a page. The Prince.]
PAGE [softly]: Count, please listen! I implore you, Your Excellency!
HOHENZOLLERN [annoyed]: Be quiet, you chatterbox! What is it?
PAGE: I’ve been sent by . . .
HOHENZOLLERN: Don’t wake him up with your babbling!
PAGE: The Elector has sent me here. He commands you not to breathe one word to the Prince when he wakes up, not a single word about the joke that His Majesty has just allowed himself to play.
HOHENZOLLERN [quietly]: He didn’t need to tell me that! Be off with you! Go lie down in the wheatfield and take a nap!
[The page leaves.]
SCENE 4
[Count Hohenzollern and the Prince.]
HOHENZOLLERN [placing himself slightly behind the Prince, who continues to stare fixedly up at the castle door]: Arthur!
[The Prince collapses.]
HOHENZOLLERN: There he lies! A bullet couldn’t have done a better job! [He approaches the Prince.] Now I am curious to see just what kind of excuse he’ll invent to explain why he fell asleep here. [He bends over the Prince.] Arthur! Are you crazy? What are you doing here? How did you get to this place in the middle of the night?
PRINCE: Oh . . .
HOHENZOLLERN: Do you realize that your cavalry has already been on the march for an hour while you . . . you lie about in the garden and go to sleep.
PRINCE: What cavalry?
HOHENZOLLERN: The Mamelukes! Can it really be that he no longer even knows that he commands the cavalry of Brandenburg?
PRINCE [standing up]: Quick! My helmet! My armor!
HOHENZOLLERN: Well, where are they?
PRINCE: Over there to your right . . . on the footstool.
HOHENZOLLERN: Where? On what stool?
PRINCE: Well, I thought I put them . . .
HOHENZOLLERN [looking at him intently]: So go and get them from the stool.
PRINCE: Whose glove is this? [He contemplates the glove he is holding in his hand.]
HOHENZOLLERN: How should I know? [To himself] Damn it all. He must have snatched the glove from the arm of the Princess without her noticing it. [Abruptly] You must hurry now. What are you waiting for? You must leave!
PRINCE [throwing the glove down]: Right away! Hey, Franz! That scoundrel was supposed to wake me up.
HOHENZOLLERN [observing him]: He’s gone quite mad!
PRINCE: I swear, my dear Heinrich, I don’t know where I am.
HOHENZOLLERN: In Fehrbellin, you distracted dreamer, in one of the side paths of the garden which lies behind the castle.
PRINCE [to himself]: If only night would swallow me! Once again I’ve been sleepwalking in the moonlight without knowing it. [He pulls himself together.] Forgive me. Now I remember what happened. The heat, you know, made it quite impossible for me to stay in bed last night. And so, since I was utterly exhausted, I crept into this garden here where Night herself embraced me like a lover. Her hair hung heavy with fragrance, and it was upon her lap I laid my head, like a bridegroom on his Persian bride’s. What time is it now?
HOHENZOLLERN: Eleven-thirty.
PRINCE: And the squadrons have already set off, you say?
HOHENZOLLERN: Of course! At ten o’clock according to the plan. The Princess of Orange’s regiment, leading the way, has doubtless already reached the heights of Hackelberg, where tomorrow morning it is to protect the army’s secret advance against General Wrangel.
PRINCE: It doesn’t matter that I’m not with them. Old Kottwitz is in command, and he knows the strategy down to every last detail. And in any case I would have had to return to headquarters here at two A.M., since we are to receive our final orders here. So it’s just as well I stayed behind in Fehrbellin. Come, let’s go. The Elector doesn’t know anything of this, does he?
HOHENZOLLERN: Of course not. He’s been long in bed asleep.
[They are about to leave. The Prince hesitates, turns around, and picks up the glove.]
PRINCE: What a strange dream I had! It was as if a royal castle all shimmering in gold and silver suddenly opened wide its doors. From high above, on the castle’s marble ramp, a circle of those people dearest to my heart descended toward me as I watched—the Elector, the Electress, and some third person—now, what’s her name?
HOHENZOLLERN: Who?
PRINCE [He seems to be searching his memory.]: She . . . the one I mean! Even a deaf mute would know her name.
HOHENZOLLERN: Lady Platen?
PRINCE: Of course not, my friend.
HOHENZOLLERN: Madame Ramin?
PRINCE: No, definitely not.
HOHENZOLLERN: Lady Bork? Or the Winterfeld woman?
PRINCE: No, no, I beg you! You seem unable to distinguish the pearl from its setting!
HOHENZOLLERN: Well, then, out with it! Is there a solution to this riddle?
Which lady do you mean?
PRINCE: It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter! The name has slipped my mind now that I’m awake. Besides, it’s irrelevant to what I’m telling you.
HOHENZOLLERN: Fine. Then, please continue.
PRINCE: But don’t interrupt me! The Elector, with a brow like Zeus, held a wreath of laurel in his hand. He stood directly in front of me and, as if he wanted to set the very depths of my soul on fire, he wound his chain of office around the wreath and handed it over to someone else to place upon my head.
HOHENZOLLERN: To whom?
PRINCE: Oh, God!
HOHENZOLLERN: So speak!
PRINCE: Well, it was probably Lady Platen.
HOHENZOLLERN: Platen? Impossible! Isn’t she in Prussia now?
PRINCE: It was Platen. Really. Or, maybe Madame Ramin.
HOHENZOLLERN: So, Madame Ramin! You don’t say . . . with her red hair. Or Lady Platen with her teasing violet eyes. Everyone knows you like her.
PRINCE: I do like her.
HOHENZOLLERN: Well . . . and she, you say, held out the wreath to you?
PRINCE: Yes, like a goddess of fame and glory. She raised the wreath upon which the Elector’s chain still dangled as if she intended to crown a hero. Filled with inexpressible emotion, I reached out to seize it; I wanted to sink upon my knees before her. But just as the mist, which hovers in a valley, is dispersed by the first fresh breath of wind, so this group of people retreated from me, and climbed back up the ramp. And when I tried to climb it too, the path stretched out endlessly before me . . . right up to the gates of heaven. Reaching out anxiously to all sides, I tried to grasp hold of one of these dear friends. In vain. The castle’s door suddenly opened, and a flash of lightning burst forth, consuming them. With that, the door slammed shut again with a great roar. But in my violent pursuit, I did manage to snatch a glove from the arm of my lovely dream-image. And when I awoke, good God! . . . I was holding a glove in my hand.
HOHENZOLLERN: And do you mean to say this glove is hers?
PRINCE: Whose?
HOHENZOLLERN: Well, Platen’s.
PRINCE: Yes, Platen’s. Really. Or Ramin’s.
HOHENZOLLERN [laughing]: You are a sly devil with your visions. I’d like to know what kind of secret rendezvous in flesh and blood really took place here from which this glove remained a souvenir!
PRINCE: What are you saying? If you think that I . . . ! I swear by my true love . . . !
HOHENZOLLERN: Well, it’s none of my business. For all I care, your phantom can be Platen or Ramin! The mail coach leaves for Prussia on Sunday, so you can find out right away whether your lovely lady is missing a glove. Let’s go. It’s twelve o’clock. Why are we standing here talking?
PRINCE [in a dreamlike state]: You’re right! Let’s go to bed. But just a moment—what I wanted to ask, dear friend—are the Electress and her niece still here, the charming Princess of Orange who’s just arrived at headquarters?
HOHENZOLLERN: Why? I do believe, the fool . . .
PRINCE: Why? You know I’m supposed to have thirty men escort them from the battle zone. I’ve had to ask Captain Ramin to take care of this.
HOHENZOLLERN: They’re long since gone . . . or, are just about to leave. Ramin, completely prepared for his departure, stood all night long at the gates. But let’s go at once! It’s twelve, and I’d like to rest a little before the battle starts.
[They both leave.]
SCENE 5
Scene: Fehrbellin. A room in the castle. Shots are heard in the distance.
[The Electress and Princess Natalia in traveling clothes, escorted by a courtier, enter and sit down at the side. Ladies-in-waiting. Enter the Elector, Field Marshal Dörfling, the Prince of Homburg with his glove tucked into his coat, Count Hohenzollern, Count Truchss, Colonel Hennings, Cavalry Captain von der Goltz, and several other generals, colonels, and officers.]
ELECTOR: Where’s the shooting coming from? Is it Götz?
FIELD MARSHAL: Yes, Your Majesty, it’s Colonel Götz, who moved forward with the advance guard yesterday. He’s already sent back an officer to set your mind at rest about the military situation. A Swedish outpost of a thousand men has advanced as far as the Hackelberg; but Götz is certain he can hold these hills and assures me that you can carry on as if they were already occupied.
ELECTOR [to the officers]: Gentlemen! Field Marshal Dörfling knows the battle plan. Take out your pens, please, and write it down.
[The officers gather around the Field Marshal and take out their notebooks.]
ELECTOR [turning to the courtier]: Has Captain Ramin come yet with the coach?
COURTIER: He’ll be right here, Your Majesty! The horses are being harnessed now.
ELECTOR [sitting down on a chair behind the Electress and the Princess]: Ramin will escort my dear Elizabeth, and thirty brave cavalrymen will follow him. You and Natalia will go to my chancellor’s castle near Havelberg. It’s on the other side of the Havel River where no more Swedes will dare to let themselves be seen.
ELECTRESS: Is the ferry running again?
ELECTOR: Near Havelberg? Arrangements have been made. In any case, it’ll be daylight before you reach the crossing. [Pause] But Natalia is so quiet. What’s bothering my sweet child?
NATALIA: I’m afraid, dear uncle.
ELECTOR: And yet my little daughter is no less safe now than she was in her mother’s arms.
[Pause]
ELECTRESS: When do you think we’ll meet again?
ELECTOR: When God grants me victory, as He doubtless will . . . perhaps in the course of the next day or so.
[Pages come and serve breakfast to the ladies. Field Marshal Dörfling dictates. The Prince of Homburg, pen and notebook in hand, stares fixedly at the ladies.]
FIELD MARSHAL: Gentlemen, the purpose of His Majesty’s battle plan is to scatter the fleeing Swedish army and separate it from its bridgehead on the Rhyn which protects it from behind. Colonel Hennings . . .
HENNINGS: Here! [He writes.]
FIELD MARSHAL: . . . whom His Majesty has ordered to take command of the right flank of our army, is to try to circle secretly around the enemy’s left wing in the Hackel Valley so as to thrust himself boldly in between the Swedes and their three bridges. Then, joining up with Count Truchss . . . Count Truchss!
TRUCHSS: Here! [He writes.]
FIELD MARSHAL: . . . joining up with Count Truchss . . . [He pauses.] who in the meanwhile has taken up a position in the mountains opposite Wrangel . . .
TRUCHSS [writing]: “taken up a position . . .”
FIELD MARSHAL: Do you have that? [He continues.] . . . Hennings will try to drive the Swedes into the swamp which lies behind their right flank.
GUARD [dressed as a Hungarian foot soldier]: The carriage has just arrived.
[The ladies rise.]
FIELD MARSHAL: The Prince of Homburg . . .
ELECTOR [also rising]: Is Captain Ramin ready?
GUARD: He’s already mounted and waiting at the door.
[The Elector, the Electress, and Natalia take leave from one another.]
TRUCHSS [writing]: “which lies behind their right flank.”
FIELD MARSHAL: The Prince of Homburg . . . Where is the Prince of Homburg?
HOHENZOLLERN [whispering]: Arthur!
PRINCE [with a start]: Here!
HOHENZOLLERN: Have you lost your senses?
PRINCE: What does the Field Marshal command? [He blushes, takes up his pen and notebook, and writes.]
FIELD MARSHAL: . . . whom His Majesty has once again entrusted to command with honor all of Brandenburg’s cavalry—as once before at Rathenau—of course, without forgetting Colonel Kottwitz, who will stay by his side and render him assistance . . . [Softly to Goltz] Is Kottwitz here?
GOLTZ: No, General, as you can see. He’s sent me in his place to get our orders straight from you.
[The Prince looks at the ladies again.]
FIELD MARSHAL [continuing]: . . . will station himself on the plains
near the village of Hackelwitz opposite the right wing of the army and beyond the cannon’s range.
GOLTZ [writing]: “beyond the cannon’s range.”
[The Electress wraps a scarf around the Princess’s neck. The Princess, as she wants to put on her gloves, turns around as if looking for something.]
ELECTOR [stepping toward her]: My daughter, what’s wrong?
ELECTRESS: Are you looking for something?
PRINCESS: I don’t know, dear aunt, my glove . . .
ELECTOR [to the ladies-in-waiting]: Lovely ladies! Would you be so kind and help?
ELECTRESS [to the Princess]: You have it in your hand, child!
NATALIA: I have the right glove, but where’s the left one?
ELECTRESS: Perhaps you left it in your bedroom.
NATALIA: Oh, Lady Bork, would you mind looking?
ELECTOR [to Lady Bork]: Hurry, quickly!
NATALIA: Look on the mantlepiece!
[Lady Bork leaves.]
PRINCE [to himself]: My God! Did I hear correctly? [He takes the glove out of his collar.]
FIELD MARSHAL [looking at the papers which he is holding in his hands]: . . . beyond the cannon’s range. [He continues.] His Highness, the Prince . . .
PRINCE: The glove, she’s looking for the glove! [He looks back and forth, first at the glove and then at the Princess.]
FIELD MARSHAL: in accordance with our Sovereign’s express command . . .
GOLTZ [writing]: “in accordance with our Sovereign’s express command . . .”
FIELD MARSHAL: . . . is not to move from the place assigned to him, whatever course the battle takes . . .
PRINCE: Now, quick! I must find out if this glove belongs to her. [He drops the glove together with his handkerchief and then picks up the handkerchief, leaving the glove where everyone can see it.]
FIELD MARSHAL [in dismay]: What is His Highness, the Prince, doing?
HOHENZOLLERN [whispering]: Arthur!
PRINCE: Here!
HOHENZOLLERN: Have you lost your senses?
Prince Friedrich of Homburg Page 3