Dozens of journalists, academics and citizens will gather in a grand marble hall today to watch a frail 80-year-old man for any sign of capitulation to age or ill-health -- aware that the looming battle to succeed him is likely to split the nation in two.
It sounds like a scene from some bygone European monarchy. But the court in question is the US Supreme Court, the gleaming white temple that sits alongside Congress on Washington's Capitol Hill.
And the ailing patriarch under scrutiny is William Rehnquist, the chief justice for the past 19 years, who rules over the court from its central reclining leather chair, his black robe striped in regal gold.
Every Monday morning, the great square chamber fills with a hushed and reverent crowd to hear the latest rulings handed down from what is probably the most powerful law court in the world. It makes literally life-and-death decisions about execution or abortion, stem-cell research or guns -- just about every issue that divides Americans.
But the crowd is also there in anticipation of a historic retirement announcement that will bring to an end the longest period of judicial stability since the 19th century and set Republican against Democrat, devout against secular, "red" against "blue" America.
The judicial death watch is primarily on Rehnquist, who has been struggling with thyroid cancer since last October, and barely had the strength in January to swear in President George W. Bush for his second presidential term.
However, the nine-judge bench contains other men and women long past normal retirement age. When the court is called to order, they file slowly through gaps in the heavy crimson-and-gold drapes like veteran actors on the brink of their last bow.
John Paul Stevens is 85. Sandra Day O'Connor is 75 and has privately talked about stepping down. When they give up their seats, the ensuing struggle will be even more intense, because it will give Bush the opportunity to replace a liberal and a centrist Republican, respectively, with a true conservative. In a court that has voted 5-4 on some of the most contentious issues in American society, such a change would represent an earthquake.
When Rehnquist steps down, the implications for that delicate balance are less immediate. One conservative will presumably be replaced by another. But if one of the judges on the far right of the bench, Antonin Scalia or Clarence Thomas, were to be promoted to the chief justice's seat, the tone of the court would change. Where Rehnquist is courtly, the two radicals are aggressive. Scalia, in particular, is caustic about his fellow judges when they disagree with his world view. And for an Italian-American Catholic, the question of abortion is urgent and central.
In his 33 years on the bench, first as associate justice, then as chief, Rehnquist has seen seven presidents come and go -- long enough to accumulate a sense of independence -- and his rulings have frequently been inconvenient for the White House.
When Bush chooses a new Supreme Court judge, either to replace Rehnquist directly or to take the place of whichever sitting justice is promoted to the top position, he will have the opportunity to choose a complete loyalist.
The president, arguably, has no greater power in the domestic arena. His legislation can be overturned. The Cabinet secretaries, officials and ambassadors he hires will be shown the door as soon as he leaves office. But his judicial appointments will live on long after -- making decisions that help define daily life.



