CHAMBERLAIN: Needless to say, any orders issued by your Highness will be carried out, even if the necessity of the order is not fully understood.
PRINCE (starting up): Necessity! Do you mean to say that a guard at the park gate is necessary? The Friedrichspark belongs to the castle park, is entirely surrounded by it. The castle park itself is amply guarded — by the army, what's more. So why a special guard for the Friedrichspark? Isn't this a mere formality? A pleasant deathbed for the wretched old man who is keeping watch there?
CHAMBERLAIN: Formality it is, but a necessary one. A demonstration of reverence for the illustrious dead.
PRINCE: And what about the guard in the tomb itself?
CHAMBERLAIN: In my opinion this would have a police connotation. It would mean a real guarding of unreal things beyond the human sphere.
PRINCE: For my family this tomb represents the frontier between the Human and the Other, and it's on this frontier that I wish to post a guard. As for the police connotation, as you call it, we can question the Warden himself. I've sent for him. (Rings a bell.)
CHAMBERLAIN: He's a confused old man, if I may say so, already quite out of hand.
PRINCE: If that's so, all the more reason for strengthening the guard in the way I've suggested.
(Enter servant.)
PRINCE: The Warden of the tomb!
(Servant leads in Warden, holding him tight around the waist to prevent him from collapsing. Ancient red livery hanging loosely about Warden, brightly polished silver buttons, several decorations. Cap in hand, he trembles under the gentlemen's gaze.)
PRINCE: Put him on the divan!
(Servant lays him down and goes off. Pause. A faint rattling in Warden's throat.)
PRINCE (again in armchair): Can you hear?
WARDEN (tries to answer but fails, is too exhausted, sinks back again).
PRINCE: Try to pull yourself together. We're waiting.
CHAMBERLAIN (leaning over Prince): What could this man give information about? And credible and important information at that? He ought to be taken straight to bed.
WARDEN: Not to bed — still strong — fairly — can still hold my end up.
PRINCE: So you should. You've only just turned sixty. Granted, you look very weak.
WARDEN: I'll pick up in no time — feel better in a minute.
PRINCE: It wasn't meant as a reproach. I'm only sorry you aren't feeling well. Have you anything to complain about?
WARDEN: Hard work — hard work — not complaining — but very weak — wrestling bouts every night.
PRINCE: What d'you say?
WARDEN: Hard work.
PRINCE: You said something else.
WARDEN: Wrestling bouts.
PRINCE: Wrestling bouts? What kind of wrestling bouts?
WARDEN: With the blessed ancestors.
PRINCE: I don't understand. D'you have bad dreams?
WARDEN: No dreams — don't sleep.
PRINCE: Then let's hear about these — these wrestling bouts.
WARDEN (remains silent).
PRINCE (to Chamberlain): Why doesn't he speak?
CHAMBERLAIN (hurrying to Warden): He may die any minute.
PRINCE (stands up).
WARDEN (as Chamberlain touches him): Don't, don't, don't! (Fights off Chamberlain's hands, then collapses in tears.)
PRINCE: We're tormenting him.
CHAMBERLAIN: How?
PRINCE: I don't know.
CHAMBERLAIN: Coming to the castle, having to present himself here, the sight of your Highness, this questioning — he no longer has the wits to face all this.
PRINCE (still staring at the Warden): That's not it. (Goes to divan, bends over Warden, takes his little skull in his hands.) Mustn't cry. What are you crying for? We wish you well. I realize your job isn't easy. You've certainly deserved well of my family. So stop crying and tell us all about it.
WARDEN: But I'm so afraid of that gentleman there — (Looks at Chamberlain, more threateningly than afraid.)
PRINCE (to Chamberlain): If we want him to talk I'm afraid you'll have to leave.
CHAMBERLAIN: But look, your Highness, he's foaming at the mouth. He's seriously ill.
PRINCE (absent-mindedly): Please go, it won't take long.
Exit Chamberlain.
Prince sits on edge of divan.
Pause.
PRINCE: Why were you afraid of him?
WARDEN (surprisingly composed): I wasn't afraid. Me afraid of a servant?
PRINCE: He's not a servant. He's a Count, free and rich.
WARDEN: A servant all the same, you are the master.
PRINCE: If you like it that way. But you said yourself that you were afraid of him.
WARDEN: I didn't want to say things in front of him which are meant only for you. Haven't I already said too much in front of him?
PRINCE: So we're on terms of intimacy, and yet today is the first time I've seen you.
WARDEN: Seen for the first time, but you've always known that I (raising his forefinger) hold the most important position at Court. You even acknowledged it publicly by awarding me the medal "Red-as-Fire." Here! (Holds up the medal on his coat.)
PRINCE: No, that's the medal for twenty-five years' service at Court. My grandfather gave you that. But I'll decorate you, too.
WARDEN: Do as you please and grant me whatever you think I deserve. I've acted as your tomb Warden for thirty years.
PRINCE: Not mine. My reign has lasted hardly a year.
WARDEN (lost in thought): Thirty years.
Pause.
WARDEN (remembering only half of the Prince's remark): Nights last years there.
PRINCE: I haven't yet had a report from your office. What's your work like?
WARDEN: Every night the same. Every night till the heart beats as if it were about to burst.
PRINCE: Is it only night duty, then? Night duty for an old man like you?
WARDEN: That's just it, your Highness. It's day duty. A loafer's job. There one sits, at the front door, with one's mouth open in the sunshine. Sometimes the watchdog pats one on the knee with its paws, and then lies down again. That's all that ever happens.
PRINCE: Well?
WARDEN (nodding): But it has been changed to night duty.
PRINCE: By whom?
WARDEN: By the lords of the tomb.
PRINCE: You know them?
WARDEN: Yes.
PRINCE: They come to see you?
WARDEN: Yes.
PRINCE: Last night, too?
WARDEN: Last night, too.
PRINCE: What was it like?
WARDEN (sitting up straight): Same as usual.
Prince stands up.
WARDEN: Same as usual. Quiet till midnight. I'm lying in bed — excuse me — smoking my pipe. My granddaughter is asleep in the next bed. At midnight comes the first knock at the window. I look at the clock. Always to the minute. Two more knocks, they mingle with the striking of the tower clock, but I can still hear them. These are no human knuckles. But I know all that and don't budge. Then it clears its throat outside, it's surprised that in spite of all that knocking I haven't opened the window. Let his princely Highness be surprised! The old Warden is still there! (Shows his fist.)
PRINCE: You're threatening me?
WARDEN (doesn't immediately understand): Not you. The one at the window!
PRINCE: Who is it?
WARDEN: He shows himself at once. All of a sudden window and shutters are opened. I just have time to throw the blanket over my grandchild's face. The storm blows in, promptly puts the light out. Duke Friedrich! His face with beard and hair completely fills my poor window. How he has grown throughout the centuries! When he opens his mouth to speak the wind blows his old beard between his teeth and he bites on it.
PRINCE: Just a moment. You say Duke Friedrich? Which Friedrich?
WARDEN: Duke Friedrich, just Duke Friedrich.
PRINCE: Is that the name he gives?
WARDEN (anxiously): No, he doesn'
t give it.
PRINCE: And yet you know — (breaking off) -- Go on!
WARDEN: Shall I go on?
PRINCE: Of course. All this very much concerns me. There must be an error in the distribution of labor. You're overworked.
WARDEN (kneeling): Don't take my job away, your Highness. Having lived for you all these years, let me also die for you! Don't wall up the grave I'm struggling toward. I serve willingly and am still strong enough to serve. To be granted an audience like today's, to take a rest with my master — this gives me strength for ten years.
PRINCE (putting Warden back on divan): No one's going to take your job from you. How could I get along without your experience? But I'll appoint another Warden, then you'll become Head Warden.
WARDEN: Am I not good enough? Have I ever let anyone pass?
PRINCE: Into the Friedrichspark?
WARDEN: No, out of the park. Who'd want to come in? If ever anyone stops at the railing I beckon to him from the window and he runs away. But out! Everyone wants to get out. After midnight you can see all the voices from the grave assembled around my house. I think it's only because they are so closely packed together that the whole lot of them don't burst through my narrow window. If it gets too bad, however, I grab the lantern from under my bed, swing it high, and with laughter and moaning these incredible creatures scatter in all directions. Then I can hear them rustling even in the farthest bush at the end of the park. But they soon gather together again.
PRINCE: And do they tell you what they want?
WARDEN: First they give orders. Especially Duke Friedrich. No living being could be so confident. Every night for thirty years he has been expecting me to give in.
PRINCE: If he has been coming for thirty years it can't be Duke Friedrich, for he has been dead only fifteen years. On the other hand, he is the only one of that name in the tomb.
WARDEN (too carried away by his story}: That I don't know, your Highness, I never went to school. I only know how he begins. "Old dog," he begins at the window, "the gentlemen are knocking and you just stay in your filthy bed." They have a particular grudge against beds, by the way. And now every night we have the same conversation, he outside, I opposite him, my back to the door. I say: "I'm only on day duty." The Duke turns and shouts into the park: "He's only on day duty." Whereupon all the assembled aristocracy burst out laughing. Then the Duke says to me again: "But it is day." I say curtly: "You're wrong." The Duke: "Night or day, open the door." I: "That's against my orders." And with my pipe I point at a notice on the door. The Duke: "But you're our Warden." I: "Your Warden, but employed by the reigning Prince." He: "Our Warden, that's the main thing. So open up, and be quick about it." I: "No." He: "Idiot, you'll lose your job. Prince Leo has invited us for today."
PRINCE (quickly): I?
WARDEN: You.
Pause.
WARDEN: When I hear your name I lose my firmness. That's why I have always taken care to lean against the door which is almost the only thing that holds me up. Outside, everyone's singing your name. "Where's the invitation?" I ask weakly. "Bedbug!" he shouts, "you doubt my ducal word?" I say: "I have no orders, so I won't open, I won't open, I won't open!" — "He won't open!" shouts the Duke outside. "So come on, all of you, the whole dynasty! At the door! We'll open it ourselves." And a moment later there's nothing under my window.
Pause.
PRINCE: Is that all?
WARDEN: All? My real service begins only now. I rush out of the door, around the house, and promptly run into the Duke and there we are, locked in combat. He so big, I so small, he so broad, I so thin, I can fight only with his feet, but now and again he lifts me up in the air and then I fight up there, too. All his comrades stand around in a circle and make fun of me. One, for instance, cuts open my trousers behind and they all play with the tail of my shirt while I'm fighting. Can't understand why they laugh, as until now I've always won.
PRINCE: How is it possible for you to win? Have you any weapons?
WARDEN: I carried weapons only during the first years. What good could they be against him? They only hampered me. We just fight with our fists, or rather with the strength of our breath. And you're in my thoughts all the time.
Pause.
WARDEN: But I never doubt my victory. Only sometimes I'm afraid the Duke will let me slip through his fingers and forget that he's fighting.
PRINCE: And when do you win?
WARDEN: At dawn. Then he throws me down and spits at me. That's his confession of defeat. But I have to go on lying there for an hour before I can get my breath back properly.
Pause.
PRINCE (standing up): But tell me, don't you know what they really want?
WARDEN: To get out of the park.
PRINCE: But why?
WARDEN: That I don't know.
PRINCE: Haven't you asked?
WARDEN: No.
PRINCE: Why not?
WARDEN: It would embarrass me. But if you wish, I'll ask them today.
PRINCE (shocked, loud): Today!
WARDEN (knowingly): Yes, today.
PRINCE: And you can't even guess what they want?
WARDEN (thoughtfully): No.
Pause.
WARDEN: Perhaps I ought to add that sometimes in the early mornings while I'm lying there trying to get my breath and even too weak to open my eyes, there comes a delicate, moist creature, rather hairy to the touch, a latecomer, the Countess Isabella. She runs her hand all over me, catches hold of my beard, her whole body glides along my neck, under my chin, and she's in the habit of saying: "Not the others, but me — let me out." I shake my head as much as I can. "I want to go to Prince Leo, to offer him my hand." I keep on shaking my head. "But me, me!" I can still hear her crying, then she's gone. And my granddaughter appears with blankets, wraps me up in them, and waits with me till I can walk on my own. An exceptionally good girl.
PRINCE: Isabella? The name's unknown to me.
Pause.
PRINCE: To offer me her hand! (Goes to window, looks out.)
Enter servant through center door.
SERVANT: Her Highness, m'lady the Princess, awaits you.
PRINCE (looks absent-mindedly at servant. Turns to Warden): Wait till I come back. (Exit left.)
Chamberlain enters at once through center door, then the Lord High Steward (youngish man in officer's uniform) through door on right.
WARDEN (ducks behind divan and flourishes his hands as though seeing ghosts).
STEWARD: The Prince has gone?
CHAMBERLAIN: Following your advice, the Princess sent for him.
STEWARD: Good. (Turns suddenly, bends over behind divan.) And you, miserable ghost, you actually dare to appear here in the princely castle! Aren't you afraid of the great boot that'll kick you through the door?
WARDEN: I'm — I'm —
STEWARD: Quiet, first of all keep quiet, don't utter — and sit down here in this corner! (To Chamberlain) I thank you for informing me about the latest princely whim.
CHAMBERLAIN: You inquired about it.
STEWARD: Even so. And now a confidential word. Purposely in front of that creature there. You, Count, are flirting with the opposition.
CHAMBERLAIN: Is that an accusation?
STEWARD: An apprehension, so far.
CHAMBERLAIN: In that case I can answer. I'm not flirting with the opposition, for I don't know it. I can feel the currents, but I steer clear of them. I still represent the open policy that prevailed under Duke Friedrich. At that time the only policy at Court was to serve the Prince. This was made easier by his being a bachelor, but it should never be difficult.
STEWARD: Very sensible — except that one's own nose, however reliable, never points the right way all the time. This can only be achieved by reason. But reason must make decisions. Let's assume the Prince is on the wrong track: does one serve him better by following him down or, with all due respect, by chasing him back? Undoubtedly by chasing him back.
CHAMBERLAIN: You came here with the
Princess from a foreign Court, have spent a mere six months here, and you already think you can tell the difference between good and evil in the complicated conditions of this Court?
STEWARD: He who blinks sees only complications. He who keeps his eyes open sees the eternal truth in the first hours as clearly as after a hundred years. Admittedly, in this case, a sad truth which in the next few days, however, may take a decisive turn for the better.
CHAMBERLAIN: I cannot believe that the decision which you wish to bring about and which I know only from your announcement will be a good one. I'm afraid you misunderstand our Prince, the Court, and everything here.
STEWARD: Whether understood or misunderstood, the present situation is unbearable.
CHAMBERLAIN: Unbearable it may be, but it is founded on the nature of things as they are here, and we are prepared to bear it to the end.
STEWARD: But not the Princess, not I, not those who are on our side.
CHAMBERLAIN: What do you find so unbearable?
STEWARD: Just because the decision is imminent I want to speak frankly. The Prince has a dual nature. The one, concerning itself with government, wavers absent-mindedly in public, disregarding its own privileges. The other nature admittedly searches very painstakingly for a strengthening of its foundations. It searches for them in the past, delving deeper and deeper. What a misunderstanding of the situation! A misunderstanding that doesn't lack greatness — although its defectiveness is even greater than its appearance. Can you fail to see that?
CHAMBERLAIN: It's not the description I object to, it's the interpretation.
STEWARD: The interpretation? And to think that in the hope of getting you to agree, I have judged the situation with more leniency than I actually feel! And I'm still withholding my verdict in order to spare you. But just one thing: in reality the Prince does not need a strengthening of his foundations. If he uses all the power at present at his disposal, he'll find it sufficient to bring about everything that the most extreme responsibility before God and man may demand of him. But he shies away from the balance of life, he's on his way to becoming a tyrant.