ACT I
AT RISE Fehrbellin. A formal
garden in the French style. In the background,
a castle. A ramp leads down from it in front. Night.
Bareheaded and in an open shirt, the PRINCE
of HOMBURG sits under an oak tree weaving a wreath. He is neither awake nor asleep. The ELECTOR, the ELECTRESS, PRINCESS NATALIE, COUNT HOHENZOLLERN, CAPTAIN GOLZ
and others stealthily emerge from the castle and look
over the balustrade at the prince below. Pages with torches.
HOHENZOLLERN
After three day in relentless pursuit of the elusive Swede, our brave cousin the Prince of Homburg has returned exhausted to Fehrbellin’s headquarters. He is to rest and provision for no more than three hours before riding for the Hackel Mountains to prevent Wrangel from taking up a position on the Rhyn. These are your orders to him, are they not, sir?
ELECTOR
They are.
HOHENZOLLERN
Now that he has readied the cavalry to move out at ten, he has collapsed on the straw like a spent dog, to recover strength for tomorrow’s battle at dawn.
ELECTOR
So I have been told. And…?
HOHENZOLLERN
The hour strikes, the cavalry is drawn up at the city gates, the horses stamp the ground, and who is missing? Their commander. The Prince. Lamps, lanterns, torches seek him out, and where is our hero to be found?
(HE takes a torch from a page)
Asleep on his feet! Look at that bench – see how he sits, drugged by the moonlight, dreaming the bright dreams of posterity, weaving the crown of his glorious renown!
ELECTOR
What?
HOHENZOLLERN
Just as I said. Look: there he sits!
ELECTOR
Asleep? Impossible.
HOHENZOLLERN
Fast asleep. Only call out his name and he will drop to the ground.
ELECTRESS
(after a pause)
He must be ill.
NATALIE
Send for a surgeon.
ELECTRESS
We are wrong to make idle sport of the man when he needs help.
HOHENZOLLERN
(returning torch to page)
Good ladies, you may spare him your concern. He is no more in need of a surgeon than I. As will be clear to the Swede on tomorrow’s battlefield. Believe me, it is nothing more serious than the wayward flight of a passing fancy.
ELECTOR
It’s like a scene in a fairytale. Follow me, friends, I want to have a closer look.
COURTIER
Stand back with the torches!
HOHENZOLLERN
Let them approach. The whole castle could go up in flames: his senses would be no more affected than the diamond on his little finger.
(They surround him, the pages holding up their torches for light.)
ELECTOR
(bending over him)
What is the leaf he is plaiting in the wreath? Is it a willow leaf?
HOHENZOLLERN
What? A willow? Oh, sir, it is a laurel wreath . The kind he has seen on the heads of heroes whose portraits hang from the armory walls in Berlin.
.
ELECTOR
Where in this sandy soil could he have found laurel?
HOHENZOLLERN
God only knows.
COURTIER
Perhaps among the exotic plants in the garden behind the castle.
ELECTOR
Heaven knows, it is a strange sight. But I think I know what accounts for this folly.
HOHENZOLLERN
Oh, indeed! Tomorrow’s battle, I have no doubt. In his mind’s eye, he sees stargazers weaving a victory wreath from many suns.
COURTIER
Look! It’s finished.
HOHENZOLLERN
A pity there is no mirror to hand. He would gaze at his image with all the vanity of a young girl in a bonnet decked with flowers.
ELECTOR
By God, I want to see how far he will go!
(The ELECTOR takes the wreath from HOMBURG’S hands. The prince reddens and stares at him. The ELECTOR takes the gold chain he wears around his neck and drapes it on the wreath, which he then hands to NATALIE. HOMBURG starts up from the bench. The ELECTOR backs up with NATALIE, who holds the wreath aloft. HOMBURG follows her with outstretched hands.)
HOMBURG
(whispering)
Natalie! My own! My bride!
ELECTOR
Back. Get back. Hurry!
HOHENZOLLERN
What is the fool saying?
COURTIER
What were his words?
(They all move back up the ramp.)
HOMBURG
Frederick! My sovereign! My father!
HOHENZOLLERN
Hell and damnation.
ELECTOR
(still backing up)
Here! Open the doors!
HOMBURG
Oh, mother!
HOHENZOLLERN
He’s raving. He’s –
ELECTRESS
What can he mean?
HOMBURG
(reaching for the wreath)
O my dearest! Why do you draw back? Natalie!
(He draws the glove from her hand.)
HOHENZOLLERN
Good heavens! What was that he took?
COURTIER
The wreath?
NATALIE
No, no!
HOHENZOLLERN
(opening the door)
Quick! Inside, sir! Let the whole picture dissolve!
ELECTOR
Back into the void with you, Prince of Homburg! Let nothingness engulf you! We shall meet again, if you please, on the battlefield. Such prizes as these are not to be won in dreams!
(All go out. The doors of the castle clang shut. Pause. HOMBURG stands for a moment gazing in bewilderment at the door. Then he turns and descends the ramp deep in thought, with the hand holding the glove pressed to his forehead. At the bottom, he turns and looks up again at the door. HOHENZOLLERN enters below through a postern gate, followed by a page.)
PAGE
(softly)
Good my lord, a word with you.
HOHENZOLLERN
(irritated)
Hush, little cricket. Well, what is it?
PAGE
I have a message –
HOHENZOLLERN
Don’t wake him with your chirping. All right. What is it?
PAGE
A message from the elector. When the prince wakes up, he is not to hear about the trick that was played on him.
HOHENZOLLERN
Good. Go lie in a haystack and fill your head with sleep. I know that well enough. Now off with you!
(Exit PAGE. HOHENZOLLERN places himself at a distance from HOMBURG, who still stares distractedly at the ramp)
Arthur!
(HOMBURG falls to the ground).
There he lies! A bullet could have done no more.
(nearing)
It only remains to hear story he will concoct to justify his presence here.
(bending over him)
Arthur! What possesses you? What are you doing? Here, in this place, at this time of night?
HOMBURG
Oh, my friend!
HOHENZOLLERN
Now really, what can I say? The cavalry rode out an hour ago, and I find you asleep in a garden.
HOMBURG
What cavalry?
HOHENZOLLERN
(ironic)
Oh, the Mamelukes! As I live and breathe, he doesn’t even know he commands the Brandenburg cavalry.
HOMBURG
(standing)
Hurry! My helmet! My armor!
HOHENZOLLERN
And where, may I ask, is one to find them?
HOMBURG
There, to the right, to the right. On the stool, Heinz!
HOHENZOLLERN
What stool? Where?
HOMBURG
I must have – I’m certain that is where I left them.
HOHENZOLLERN
(staring at him)
If you put them on the stool, then go and fetch them from the stool!
HOMBURG
(noticing the glove in his hand)
What glove is this?
HOHENZOLLERN
How should I know?
(aside)
The devil! He must have inadvertantly drawn it from the hand of the princess.
(abruptly)
Hurry up! What are you waiting for?
HOMBURG
(throwing the glove away)
At once! At once!
(calling)
Franz! That good for nothing was told to wake me.
HOHENZOLLERN
(watching him closely)
He’s raving mad.
HOMBURG
On my word, dearest Henry, I don’t know where I am.
HOHENZOLLERN
In Fehrbellin, you addlepated dreamer. On a garden path behind the castle.
HOMBURG
(aside)
Let night swallow me up. In spite of myself, I’ve gone straying again in the moonlight.
(masters himself)
Forgive me. Now I remember: I couldn’t sleep in this heat, so I slipped out into the garden; and the night, heavy with perfume, welcomed me like a Persion bride her bridegroom – so I lay my weary head in her lap. What hour just struck?
HOHENZOLLERN
Half-past eleven.
HOMBURG
You say the cavalry has moved out?
HOHENZOLLERN
Well, naturally. At ten o’clock sharp. Just as planned. By now the regiment of the Princess of Orange will have reached the summit of Hacklewitz; come tomorrow, it will serve to conceal the movement of the troops from Wrangel.
HOMBURG
Nothing’s lost. Old Kottwitz commands the regiment. He knows every detail of the dispositions. Besides, I was expected to return to headquarters early this morning for my final orders. I may just as well stay on. Let’s go. Does the elector know of this?
HOHENZOLLERN
Oh, he’s long since in bed.
(They start to leave. HOMBURG stops abruptly, turns back, and picks up the fallen glove.)
HOMBURG
I had the most astonishing dream. It seemed as if the portals of a royal castle broke open, streaming with gold and silver, and a procession of all those nearest to my heart moved toward me down a marble ramp: the elector, his consort and a third – what is her name?
HOHENZOLLERN
Who?
HOMBURG
(searching) You know who I mean. A deaf mute could speak her name.
HOHENZOLLERN
Lady Platen?
HOMBURG
No, no. Please.
HOHENZOLLERN
Baroness Ramin?
HOMBURG
No. Hardly her.
HOHENZOLLERN
Lady Winterfield? Bork?
HOMBURG
No, no. Please. You overlook the pearl in the ring for the glitter of the setting.
HOHENZOLLERN
Hang it all, say! Picture her features, can’t you! What lady to you mean?
HOMBURG
Never mind. I lost the name when I woke. Besides, it has no bearing on what happened next.
HOHENZOLLERN
Good. Go on.
HOMBURG
But don’t interrupt. The elector, with a brow like Jove’s, holds a laurel wreath in his hand. He raises it before my eyes, removes
his gold chain of office, and as if to tempt my very soul, entwines it in the wreath. Then, intending for her to crown me with it, he gives it to –
HOHENZOLLERN
To whom?
HOMBURG
Oh, my friend, to –
HOHENZOLLERN
Well, say!
HOMBURG
It must have been Lady Platen after all.
HOHENZOLLERN
You mean the Lady Platen who went to Prussia?
HOMBURG
Lady Platen of course. Or Baroness Ramin.
HOHENZOLLERN
Oh, the redheaded Baroness Ramin. Or Lady Platen with the mischievous violet eyes. It’s known you have a liking for her.
HOMBURG
I have a liking for her.
HOHENZOLLERN
Well, and it was she, you say, who offered you the wreath?
HOMBURG
She holds up the wreath entwined with the glittering chain as if she were the goddess of Victory about to crown a hero. I stretch forth my hand – inexpressibly moved – stretch forth my hand to take it from her. I want to fall on my knees at her feet. Then, like the sweet, fresh breath of a valley sucked up by a sudden wind, the whole procession is drawn back up the ramp. The ramp lengthens beneath my feet interminably as I follow, climbing almost to the height of heaven’s gates. I grope to the left and to the right with an aching heart, trying to hold back one of those wraithlike forms – no luck! The doors of the castle fling open and all are annihilated in a flash of light. The doors clang shut. I only succeed, in my eager pursuit, in drawing a glove from the dear phantom’s arm. And as I wake, almighty God, what do I find in my hand? A glove!
HOHENZOLLERN
On my word. Do you mean this glove belongs to her then?
HOMBURG
To whom?
HOHENZOLLERN
Why, the Lady Platen.
HOMBURG
Lady Platen. Of course. Or Baroness Ramin.
HOHENZOLLERN
(laughs)
You and your absurd visions! Who knows what charming indiscretion could have delivered this glove into your hand!
HOMBURG
What do you mean? Delivered to my – Oh, my dear love!
HOHENZOLLERN
Devil take it! Lady Platen or Baroness Ramin, why should I care? The post leaves Sunday for Prussia: That’s the best way to find out if your beauty is missing her glove. Let’s go. It’s midnight. Why do we stand here dithering?
HOMBURG
(looking dreamily at the ground) You are right. It’s time we were in bed. But something I did mean to ask you, Henry: Are the elector’s wife and her lovely niece, the princess of Orange, still here?
HOHENZOLLERN
Why do you want to know that?
(aside)
It looks as if the fool –
HOMBURG
Why? I am to provide an escort of thirty horsemen to see them from camp. I’ve asked Ramin to see to it.
HOHENZOLLERN
Oh, that! They are long since gone – gone if not on the way. At least Ramin was posted at the gate all night, duly alerted. But let’s go, for heaven’s sake. It’s midnight, and I hope to get some rest before the battle.
(Exeunt.)
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