0,49 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: E-BOOKARAMA
- Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Written in 1900, "L'Aiglon" is a play in six acts by Edmond Rostand based on the life of Napoleon II, who was the son of Emperor Napoleon I and his second wife, Empress Marie Louise. The title of the play comes from a nickname for Napoleon II, the French word for "eaglet" (a young eagle).
The title role was created by Sarah Bernhardt in the play's premiere on 15 March 1900 at the Théàtre Sarah Bernhardt.
Edmond Rostand’s sympathetic treatment of sensitive people is as evident in his portrait of Napoleon’s idealistic but hesitant son as it is in that of his ugly but unselfish "Cyrano de Bergerac".
"L'Aiglon" is an impressive play.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Ähnliche
Table of contents
L'AIGLON
The Persons of the Play
The First Act
The Second Act
The Third Act
The Fourth Act
The Fifth Act
The Sixth Act
L'AIGLON
Edmond Rostand
A Play in Six Acts
The Persons of the Play
The cast as presented by Maude Adams at the Knickerbocker Theatre, New York, October, 1900
THE DUKE OF REICHSTADT, son of Napoleon I. and the Archduchess Maria Louisa of Austria MAUDE ADAMS
FLAMBEAU, a veteran J. H. GILMOUR
PRINCE METTERNICH, Chancellor of Austria EDWIN ARDEN
COUNT PROKESCH PERCY LYNDALL
BARON FRIEDRICH VON GENTZ EUGENE JEPSON
THE ATTACHÉ OF THE FRENCH EMBASSY at the Austrian Court OSWALD YORK
THE TAILOR, a conspirator WILLIAM LEWERS
COUNT MAURICE DIETRICHSTEIN EDWARD LESTER
BARON VON OBENAUS R. PEYTON CARTER
THE EMPEROR FRANCIS OF AUSTRIA JOS. FRANCOEUR
MARSHAL MARMONT, Duke of Ragusa J. H. BENRIMO
COUNT SEDLINZKY, Prefect of the Austrian Police WILLIAM CROSBY
THE MARQUIS OF BOMBELLES, betrothed to Maria Louisa CLAYTON LEGGE
TIBURTIUS DE LOGET WILLIAM IRVING
LORD COWLEY, English Ambassador at the Austrian Court RIENZI DE CORDOVA
COUNT SANDOR EDWARD JACOBS
DOCTOR MALFATTI H. D. JAMES
GENERAL HARTMANN HERBERT CARR
CAPTAIN FORESTI JOHN S. ROBERTSON
AN AUSTRIAN SERGEANT LLOYD CARLETON
A COUNTRY DOCTOR FREDERICK SPENCER
HIS SON BYRON ONGLEY
THALBERG B. B. BELCHER
MONTENEGRO MORTON H. WELDON
THE CHAMBERLAIN CHARLES MARTIN
AN OFFICER OF THE NOBLE GUARD, the Emperor of Austria's Bodyguard HENRY P. DAVIS
THE MARQUIS OF OTRANTO, son of Fouche CHARLES HENDERSON
GOUBEAUX) (DON C. MERRIFIELD PIONNET ) Bonapartist (HENRY CLARKE MORCHAIN) conspirators (THOMAS H. ELWOOD GUIBERT ) (GEORGE KLEIN BOROWSKI) (FRANK GOODMAN
FIRST POLICE OFFICER RALPH YOERG
FIRST ARCHDUKE, a child WALTER BUTTERWORTH
SECOND ARCHDUKE, a child JOHN LEEMAN
MARIA LOUISA, second wife of Napoleon I., widow of Count Neipperg IDA WATERMAN
THE ARCHDUCHESS SOPHIA OF AUSTRIA SARAH CONVERSE
THERESA DE LOGET, sister of Tiburtius de Loget ELLIE COLLMER
THE COUNTESS NAPOLEONE CAMERATA, daughter of Napoleon's sister, Elisa Baciocchi SARAH PERRY
FANNY ELSSLER MARGARET GORDON
SCARAMPI, Mistress of the Robes FRANCIS COMSTOCK
MINA, a maid–of–honor EDITH SCOTT
AN ARCHDUCHESS, a child BEATRICE MORRISON
Princes, Princesses, Archdukes, Archduchesses, Maids–of–Honor, Officers, Noble Guard, Masks (Male and Female), Crotian Peasants, Hungarian Peasant, Austrian Soldiers, Police Officers.
The period covered by the play is from 1830 to 1832.
The First Act
At Baden, near Vienna, in 1830.
The drawing–room of the villa occupied by MARIA LOUISA. The walls are painted al fresco in bright colors. The frieze is decorated with a design of sphinxes.
At the back, between two other windows, a window reaching to the ground and forming the entrance from the garden. Beyond, the balustrade of the terrace leading into the garden; a glimpse of lindens and pine–trees. A magnificent day in the beginning of September. Empire furniture of lemonwood decorated with bronze. A large china stove in the centre of the wall on the left. In front of it a door. On the right, two doors. The first leads to the apartments of MARIA LOUISA. In front of the window on the left at the back an Erard piano of the period, and a harp. A big table on the right, and against the right wall a small table with shelves filled with books. On the left, facing the audience, a Récamier couch, and a large stand for candlesticks. A great many flowers in vases. Framed engravings on the walls representing the members of the Imperial Family of Austria. A portrait of the Emperor Francis.
At the rise of the curtain a group of elegant ladies is discovered at the further end of the room. Two of them are seated at the piano, with their backs to the audience, playing a duet. Another is at the harp. They are playing at sight, amid much laughter and many interruptions. A lackey ushers in a modestly dressed young girl who is accompanied by an officer of the Austrian Cavalry. Seeing that no one notices their entrance, these two remain standing a moment in a corner. The COUNT DE BOMBELLES comes in from the door on the right and goes toward the piano. He sees the young girl, and stops, with a smile.
THE LADIES.
[ Surrounding the piano, laughing, and all talking at the same time.]
She misses all the flats!—It's scandalous!— I'll take the bass!—Loud pedal!—One! Two!—Harp!
BOMBELLES.
[ To THERESA.]
What! You!
THERESA.
Good–day, my Lord Bombelles!
A LADY.
[ At the piano.] Mi, sol.
THERESA.
I enter on my readership—
ANOTHER LADY.
[ At the piano.] The flats!
THERESA.
It's thanks to you.
BOMBELLES.
My dear Theresa! Nothing! You are my relative, and you are French.
THERESA.
[ Presenting the officer.]
Tiburtius—
BOMBELLES.
Ah, your brother!
[ He gives him his hand and pushes forward a chair for THERESA.]
Take a seat.
THERESA.
I'm very nervous.
BOMBELLES.
[ With a smile.] Heavens! What about?
THERESA.
To venture near the persons of the two The Emperor left!
BOMBELLES.
Oh, is that all, my child?
TIBURTIUS.
Our people hated Bonaparte of old—
THERESA.
Yes—but to see—
BOMBELLES.
His widow?
THERESA.
And perhaps His son?
BOMBELLES.
Assuredly.
THERESA.
Why, it would mean I'd never thought or read, and was not French, Nor born in recent years, if I could stand Unmoved so near them. Is she lovely?
BOMBELLES.
Who?
THERESA.
Her Majesty of Parma?
BOMBELLES.
Why—
THERESA.
She's sad And that itself is beauty.
BOMBELLES.
But I'm puzzled. Surely you've seen her?
THERESA.
No.
TIBURTIUS.
We've just come in.
BOMBELLES.
Yes, but—
TIBURTIUS.
We feared we might disturb these ladies Whose laughter sings new gamuts to the piano.
THERESA.
Here in my corner I await her notice.
BOMBELLES.
What? Why, it's she who's playing bass this moment!
THERESA.
The Emp—?
BOMBELLES.
I'll go and tell her.
[ He goes to the piano and whispers to one of the ladies who are playing.]
MARIA LOUISA.
[ Turning.] Ah! this child— Quite a pathetic story—yes—you told me: A brother—
BOMBELLES.
Father exiled. Son an exile.
TIBURTIUS.
The Austrian uniform is to my taste; And then there's fox–hunting, which I adore.
MARIA LOUISA.
[ To THERESA.]
So that's the rascal whose extravagance Eats up your little fortune?
THERESA.
Oh!—my brother—
MARIA LOUISA.
The wretch has ruined you, but you forgive him! Theresa de Loget, I think you're charming!
[ She takes THERESA by both hands and makes her sit beside her on the couch.]
[BOMBELLES and TIBURTIUS retire to the back.]
Now you're among my ladies. I may boast I'm not unpleasant; rather sad at times Since—
THERESA.
I am grieved beyond the power of words.
MARIA LOUISA.
Yes, to be sure. It was a grievous loss. That lovely soul was little known!
THERESA.
Oh, surely!
MARIA LOUISA.
[ Turning to BOMBELLES.]
I've just been writing; they're to keep his horse—
[ To THERESA.]
Since the dear General's death—
THERESA.
The—General's?
MARIA LOUISA.
He'd kept that title.
THERESA.
Ah, I understand!
MARIA LOUISA.
I weep.
THERESA.
That title was his greatest glory.
MARIA LOUISA.
One cannot know at first all one has lost; And I lost all when General Neipperg died.
THERESA.
Neipperg?
MARIA LOUISA.
I came to Baden for distraction. It's nice. So near Vienna.—Ah, my dear, My nerves are troublesome; they say I'm thinner— And growing very like Madame de Berry. 'Twas Vitrolles said so. Now I do my hair Like her. Why did not Heaven take me too? This villa's small, of course; but 'tisn't bad; Metternich is our guest in passing.
[ She points to the door on the left.]
There. He leaves to–night. The life at Baden's gay. We have the Sandors and the pianist Thalberg, And Montenegro sings to us in Spanish. Fontana howls an air from Figaro. The wife of the Ambassador of England And the Archduchess come; we go for drives— But nothing soothes my grief!—Ah, could the General—! Of course you're coming to the ball to–night?
THERESA.
Why—
MARIA LOUISA.
At the Meyendorffs'. Strauss will be there. She must be present, mustn't she, Bombelles?
THERESA.
May I solicit of your Majesty News of the Duke of Reichstadt?
MARIA LOUISA.
In good health. He coughs a little; but the air of Baden Is good for him. He's quite a man. He's reached The critical hour of entrance in the world! Oh dear! when I consider he's already Lieutenant–Colonel! Think how grieved I am Never to have seen him in his uniform!
[ Enter the DOCTOR and his son, bringing a box.
MARIA LOUISA.
Ah! These must be for him!
THE DOCTOR.
Yes; the collections.
MARIA LOUISA.
Please put them down.
BOMBELLES.
What are they?
THE DOCTOR.
Butterflies.
THERESA.
Butterflies?
MARIA LOUISA.
Yes; when I was visiting This amiable old man, the local doctor, I saw his boy arranging these collections. I sighed aloud, Alas! would but my son, Whom nothing moves, take interest in these!
THE DOCTOR.
So then I answered, Well, your Majesty, One never knows. Why not? We can but try; I'll bring my butterflies!
THERESA.
His butterflies!
MARIA LOUISA.
Could he but leave his solitary musings To occupy his mind with—
THE DOCTOR.
Lepidoptera.
MARIA LOUISA.
Leave them; come back; he's out at present. [ To THERESA.] You Come, I'll present you to Scarampi. She's The Mistress of the Robes.
[ She sees METTERNICH, who enters L.]
Ah, Metternich! Dear Prince, we leave you the saloon.
METTERNICH.
Indeed, I had to come here to receive the Envoy—
MARIA LOUISA.
I know—
METTERNICH.
Of General Belliard, French Ambassador; And Councillor Gentz, and several Estafets. With your permission— [ To a lackey.] First, Baron von Gentz.
MARIA LOUISA.
The room is yours.
[ She goes out with THERESA. TIBURTIUS andBOMBELLES follow her. GENTZ enters.]METTERNICH.
Good–morning, Gentz. You know The Emperor recalls me to Vienna? I'm going back to–day.
GENTZ.
Ah?
METTERNICH.
Yes; it's tiresome— The town in summer!
GENTZ.
Empty as my pocket.
METTERNICH.
Oh, come now! No offence, you know, but—eh? Surely the Russian Government has—
GENTZ.
Me!
METTERNICH.
Be frank. Who's bought you? Eh?
GENTZ.
[ Munching sweetmeats.] The highest bidder.
METTERNICH.
Where does the money go?
GENTZ.
[ Smelling at a scent–bottle he has taken out of his pocket.]
In riotous living.
METTERNICH.
Good Heavens! And you're considered my right hand!
GENTZ.
Let not your left know what your right receives.
METTERNICH.
Sweetmeats and perfumes! Oh!
GENTZ.
Why, yes, of course. I've money; I love sweets and perfumes. Yes, I'm a depraved old baby.
METTERNICH.
Affectation! Mere pose of self–contempt. [ Suddenly.] And Fanny?
GENTZ.
Elssler? Won't love me. I'm ridiculous From every point of view. She loves the Duke. I'm but a screen; but I'm content to suffer When I remember how it serves the state If he's amused. And so I play the fool, And dance attendance on the little dancer. She bade me bring her here this very night, Just to surprise the Duke.
METTERNICH.
You scandalize me.
GENTZ.
His mother's going out. There's dancing.
[ He hands METTERNICH a letter which he has taken out of a pocket–book.]
Read— From Fouché's son.
METTERNICH.
[ Reading the letter.] August the twentieth, Eighteen hundred and thirty—
GENTZ.
He'd transform—
METTERNICH.
Good Viscount of Otranto!
GENTZ.
Our Duke of Reichstadt to Napoleon Two.
METTERNICH.
[ Handing back the letter.]
A list of partisans?
GENTZ.
Yes.
METTERNICH.
Make a note.
GENTZ.
Do we refuse?
METTERNICH.
Without destroying hope. Ah, but my little Colonel serves me well To keep these Frenchmen straight. When they forget Their Metternich, and lean too much to the left, I let him show his nose out of his box, and—crack!— When they come right, I pop him in again!
GENTZ.
When can one see the springs work?
METTERNICH.
Now.
[ Enter the French ATTACHÉ.
METTERNICH.
The Envoy Of General Belliard. Welcome, sir. [ Hands him papers.] The papers. We accept in principle King Louis Philip; But don't let's have too much of '99, Or we might crack a little egg–shell!
THE ATTACHÉ.
Sir, Are you alluding to Prince Francis Charles?
METTERNICH.
The Duke of Reichstadt? Oh, sir, as for me, I don't admit his father reigned.
THE ATTACHÉ.
[ Generously.] I do.
METTERNICH.
So I'll do nothing for the Duke. Yet—
THE ATTACHÉ.
Yet?
METTERNICH.
Yet, should you give too loose a reign to freedom, Permit yourself the slightest propaganda, Let Monsieur Royer–Collard come too often And bare his bosom to your king; in short, If your new kingdom's too republican, We might—our temper's not angelical— We might remember Francis is our grandson.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Our lilies never shall turn red.
METTERNICH.
And while They keep their whiteness bees shall not approach them.
THE ATTACHÉ.
'Tis feared in spite of you the Duke may hope.
METTERNICH.
No.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Things are happening.
METTERNICH.
But we filter them.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Doesn't he know that France has changed her king?
METTERNICH.
Yes; but the detail he does not yet know Is that his father's flag, the tricolor, Is re–established. 'Twill be time enough—
THE ATTACHÉ.
He would be drunk with hope!
METTERNICH.
We'll keep him sober.
THE ATTACHÉ.
He's not so strictly guarded here at Baden.
METTERNICH.
Oh, here there's nought to fear. He's with his mother.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Well, sir?
METTERNICH.
What spy could have such interest In watching him? For any plot would trouble Her lovely calm.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Is not that calmness feigned? She cannot have a thought but for her eaglet!
MARIA LOUISA.
[ Entering hurriedly.
My parrot!
THE ATTACHÉ.
[ Starting.]
Eh?
MARIA LOUISA.
[ To METTERNICH.]
Margharitina's flown!
METTERNICH.
Oh!
MARIA LOUISA.
My parrot, Margharitina!
METTERNICH.
[ To the ATTACHÉ.]
There, sir!
THE ATTACHÉ.
[ To MARIA LOUISA.]
May I not seek it, Highness?
MARIA LOUISA.
[ Curtly.] No. [ She goes out.
THE ATTACHÉ.
[ To METTERNICH.]
What's wrong?
METTERNICH.
We say, Your Majesty; you called her Highness.
THE ATTACHÉ.
But if we don't allow the Emperor reigned She cannot be addressed as Majesty Except as Parma's Duchess—
METTERNICH.
That's her title.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Then that was why she looked such daggers at me!
METTERNICH.
Question of protocols and of precedence.
THE ATTACHÉ.
[ Preparing to take his leave.]
May the French Embassy from this day forward Display the tricolor cockade?
METTERNICH.
[ With a sigh.] Of course, Since we're agreed—
[ Seeing the ATTACHÉ silently throw away the white cockade which was on his hat and replace it with a tricolor which he takes out of his pocket.]
Come, come! You lose no time!
[ Noise of harness–bells without.]
METTERNICH.
What is it now?
GENTZ.
[ Who is on the terrace.]
The guests of the Archduke. The Meyendorffs, Lord Cowley, Thalberg—
BOMBELLES.
[ Who has quickly come in R. at the sound of the bells, followed by TIBURTIUS.]
Meet them!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
[ Appearing on the threshold surrounded by a crowd of lords and ladies in elegant summer costumes. (Light dresses and parasols; large hats.) Two little boys and a little girl dressed in the latest fashion.]
'Tis but a villa; not a palace.
[ The room is crowded. She turns to a young man.]
Quick! Thalberg, my Tarantelle!
[THALBERG sits at the piano and plays.]
[ To METTERNICH.] Where is her Majesty,
My lovely sister?
A LADY.
We looked in to fetch her.
ANOTHER LADY.
We're rushing through the valley on a coach. Sandor is driving.
A MAN'S VOICE.
We must thrust the lava Back in its crater!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
Oh! do hold your tongues They will insist on talking of volcanoes.
BOMBELLES.
What's this volcano?
A LADY.
[ To another.]
Astrachan this winter.
SANDOR.
[ To BOMBELLES.]
Why, liberal opinions.
BOMBELLES.
Ah!
LORD COWLEY.
Or, rather, France!
METTERNICH.
[ To the ATTACHÉ.]
You hear him?
A LADY.
[ To a young man.]
Montenegro, sing to me Under your breath, for me alone.
MONTENEGRO.
[ Whom THALBERG accompanies, sings very softly.]
Corazon—
[ He continues, pianissimo.]
ANOTHER LADY.
[ To GENTZ.]
Ah, Gentz!
[ She dips into her reticule.]
Some bon–bons, Gentz?
[ She gives him some.]
GENTZ.
You are an angel.
ANOTHER LADY.
[ Similar business.]
Perfume from Paris?
[ She takes out a little bottle of scent and gives it to him.]
METTERNICH.
[ Hurriedly to GENTZ.]
Tear the label off! "The Reichstadt scent"!
GENTZ.
[ Smelling perfume.]
It smells of violets.
METTERNICH.
[ Snatches the bottle out of his hand and scrapes the label off with a pair of scissors he takes from the table.]
If the Duke came he'd see that still at Paris—
A VOICE.
[ Among the group at the back of the stage.]
The Hydra lifts its head—
A LADY.
Our husbands talk Of Hydras!
LORD COWLEY.
And it must be stifled.
A LADY.
Yes; Volcanoes first, then hydras.
A MAID OF HONOR OF MARIA LOUISA.
[ Followed by a servant bringing a tray with large glasses of iced coffee.]
Eis–Kaffee?
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
[ Seated; to a young lady.]
Recite some verses, Olga.
GENTZ.
May we have Something of Heine's?
SEVERAL VOICES.
Yes!
OLGA.
[ Rising.] The Grenadiers?
METTERNICH.
[ Quickly.]
Oh! No!
SCARAMPI.
[ Coming out of MARIA LOUISA'S apartment.]
Her Majesty is on her way!
ALL.
Scarampi!
SANDOR.
We'll drive out to Krainerhütten, The ladies there can rest upon the green.
METTERNICH.
[ To GENTZ.]
What are you reading yonder?
GENTZ.
The "Debats."
LORD COWLEY.
The politics?
GENTZ.
The Theatres.
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
How futile!
GENTZ.
Guess what they're playing at the Vaudeville.
METTERNICH.
Well?
GENTZ.
"Bonaparte."
METTERNICH.
[ With indifference.]
Oh?
GENTZ.
The Nouveautés?
METTERNICH.
Well?
GENTZ.
"Bonaparte." And the Variétés? "Napoleon." The Luxembourg announces "Fourteen years of his life." At the Gymnase They are reviving the "Return from Russia." What is the Gaiety to play this season? "Napoleon's Coachman" and "La Malmaison." An unknown author's done "Saint Helena." The Porte–Saint–Martin's going to produce "Napoleon."
LORD COWLEY.
It's the fashion.
TIBURTIUS.
It's the rage.
GENTZ.
The Ambigu "Murat;" the Cirque "The Emperor."
SANDOR.
A fashion.
BOMBELLES.
Yes, a fashion.
GENTZ.
Yes, a fashion Which will recur from time to time in France.
A LADY.
[ Reading the paper over GENTZ'S shoulder through a long–handled eye–glass.]
They want to bring his ashes home.
METTERNICH.
The Phoenix May rise again, but not the eagle.
TIBURTIUS.
What An unknown quantity is France!
METTERNICH.
Oh, no; I've gauged it.
A LADY.
Well, then, mighty prophet, speak!
THE ARCHDUCHESS.
His words are graven in bronze.
GENTZ.
Or, maybe, zinc.
