ACT FIFTHSCENE IELBA. THE QUAY, PORTO FERRAJO[Night descends upon a beautiful blue cove, enclosed on three sidesby mountains. The port lies towards the western [right-hand] hornof the concave, behind it being the buildings of the town; theirlong white walls and rows of windows rise tier above tier on thesteep incline at the back, and are intersected by narrow alleysand flights of steps that lead up to forts on the summit.Upon a rock between two of these forts stands the Palace of theMulini, NAPOLÉONS’S residence in Ferrajo. Its windows commandthe whole town and the port.]CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music]The Congress of Vienna sits,And war becomes a war of wits,Where every Power perpends withalIts dues as large, its friends’ as small;Till Priests of Peace prepare once moreTo fight as they have fought before!In Paris there is discontent;Medals are wrought that representOne now unnamed. Men whisper, “HeWho once has been, again will be!”DUMB SHOWUnder cover of the dusk there assembles in the bay a small flotillacomprising a brig calledl’Inconstantand several lesser vessels.SPIRIT OF RUMOURThe guardian on behalf of the AlliesAbsents himself from Elba. Slow surmiseToo vague to pen, too actual to ignore,Have strained him hour by hour, and more and more.He takes the sea to Florence, to declareHis doubts to Austria’s ministrator there.SPIRIT IRONICWhen he returns, Napoléon will be—where?Boats put off from these ships to the quay, where are now discoveredto have silently gathered a body of grenadiers of the Old Guard. Thefaces of DROUOT and CAMBRONNE are revealed by the occasional fleck ofa lantern to be in command of them. They are quietly taken aboardthe brig, and a number of men of different arms to the other vessels.CHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music]Napoléon is going,And nought will prevent him;He snatches the momentOccasion has lent him!And what is he going for,Worn with war’s labours?—To reconquer EuropeWith seven hundred sabres.About eight o’clock we observe that the windows of the Palace ofthe Mulini are lighted and open, and that two women sit at them:the EMPEROR’S mother and the PRINCESS PAULINE. They wave adieuxto some one below, and in a short time a little open low-wheeledcarriage, drawn by the PRINCESS PAULINE’S two ponies, descendsfrom the house to the port. The crowd exclaims “The Emperor!”NAPOLÉON appears in his grey great-coat, and is much fatter thanwhen he left France. BERTRAND sits beside him.He quickly alights and enters the waiting boat. It is a tensemoment. As the boat rows off the sailors sing the Marseillaise,and the gathered inhabitants join in. When the boat reaches thebrig its sailors join in also, and shout “Paris or death!” Yetthe singing has a melancholy cadence. A gun fires as a signalof departure. The night is warm and balmy for the season. Nota breeze is there to stir a sail, and the ships are motionless.CHORUS OF RUMOURSHaste is salvation;And still he stays waiting:The calm plays the tyrant,His venture belating!Should the corvette returnWith the anxious Scotch colonel,Escape would be frustrate,Retention eternal.Four aching hours are spent thus. NAPOLÉON remains silent on thedeck, looking at the town lights, whose reflections bore like augersinto the water of the bay. The sails hang flaccidly. Then a feeblebreeze, then a strong south wind, begins to belly the sails; and thevessels move.CHORUS OF RUMOURSThe south wind, the south wind,The south wind will save him,Embaying the frigateWhose speed would enslave him;Restoring the EmpireThat fortune once gave him!The moon rises and the ships silently disappear over the horizonas it mounts higher into the sky.SCENE IIVIENNA. THE IMPERIAL PALACE[The fore-part of the scene is the interior of a dimly lit gallerywith an openwork screen or grille on one side of it that commandsa bird’s-eye view of the grand saloon below. At present the screenis curtained. Sounds of music and applause in the saloon ascendinto the gallery, and an irradiation from the same quarter shinesup through chinks in the curtains of the grille.Enter the gallery MARIE LOUISE and the COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE,followed by the COUNT NEIPPERG, a handsome man of forty two witha bandage over one eye.]COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLEListen, your Majesty. You gather allAs well as if you moved amid them there,And are advantaged with free scope to flitThe moment the scene palls.MARIE LOUISEAh, my dear friend,To put it so is flower-sweet of you;But a fallen Empress, doomed to furtive peepsAt scenes her open presence would unhinge,Reads not much interest in them! Yet, in truth,’Twas gracious of my father to arrangeThis glimpse-hole for my curiosity.—But I must write a letter ere I look;You can amuse yourself with watching them.—Count, bring me pen and paper. I am toldMadame de Montesquiou has been distressedBy some alarm; I write to ask its shape.[NEIPPERG spreads writing materials on a table, and MARIE LOUISEsits. While she writes he stays near her. MADAME DE BRIGNOLEgoes to the screen and parts the curtains.The light of a thousand candles blazes up into her eyes frombelow. The great hall is decorated in white and silver, enrichedby evergreens and flowers. At the end a stage is arranged, andTableaux Vivants are in progress thereon, representing the historyof the House of Austria, in which figure the most charming womenof the Court.There are present as spectators nearly all the notables who haveassembled for the Congress, including the EMPEROR OF AUSTRIAhimself, has gay wife, who quite eclipses him, the EMPERORALEXANDER, the KING OF PRUSSIA—still in the mourning he hasnever abandoned since the death of QUEEN LUISA,—the KINGOF BAVARIA and his son, METTERNICH, TALLEYRAND, WELLINGTON,NESSELRODE, HARDENBERG; and minor princes, ministers, andofficials of all nations.]COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE [suddenly from he grille]Something has happened—so it seems, madame!The Tableau gains no heed from them, and allTurn murmuring together.MARIE LOUISEWhat may be?[She rises with languid curiosity, and COUNT NEIPPERG adroitlytakes her hand and leads her forward. All three look down throughthe grille.]NEIPPERGsome strange news, certainly, your Majesty,Is being discussed.—I’ll run down and inquire.MARIE LOUISE [playfully]Nay—stay here. We shall learn soon enough.NEIPPERGLook at their faces now. Count MetternichStares at Prince Talleyrand—no muscle moving.The King of Prussia blinks bewilderedlyUpon Lord Wellington.MARIE LOUISE [concerned]Yes; so it seems....They are thunderstruck. See, though the music beats,The ladies of the Tableau leave their place,And mingle with the rest, and quite forgetThat they are in masquerade. The sovereigns showBy far the gravest mien.... I wonder, now,If it has aught to do with me or mine?Disasters mostly have to do with me!COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLEThose rude diplomists from England there,At your Imperial father’s consternation,And Russia’s, and the King of Prussia’s gloom,Shake shoulders with hid laughter! That they callThe English sense of humour, I infer,—To see a jest in other people’s troubles!MARIE LOUISE [hiding her presages]They ever take things thus phlegmatically:The safe sea minimizes Continental scareIn their regard. I wish it did in mine!But Wellington laughs not, as I discern.NEIPPERGPerhaps, though fun for the other English here,It means new work for him. Ah—notice nowThe music makes no more pretence to play!Sovereigns and ministers have moved apart,And talk, and leave the ladies quite aloof—Even the Grand Duchesses and Empress, all—Such mighty cogitations trance their minds!MARIE LOUISE [with more anxiety]Poor ladies; yea, they draw into the rear,And whisper ominous words among themselves!Count Neipperg—I must ask you now—go gleanWhat evil lowers. I am riddled throughWith strange surmises and more strange alarms![The COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU enters.]Ah—we shall learn it now. Well—what, madame?COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU [breathlessly]Your Majesty, the Emperor NapoléonHas vanished from Elba! Wither flown,And how, and why, nobody says or knows.MARIE LOUISE [sinking into a chair]My divination pencilled on my brainSomething not unlike that! The rigid mienThat mastered Wellington suggested it....Complicity will be ascribed to me,Unwitting though I stand!... [A pause.]He’ll not succeed!And my fair plans for Parma will be marred,And my son’s future fouled!—I must go hence,And instantly declare to MetternichThat I know nought of this; and in his handsPlace me unquestioningly, with dumb assentTo serve the Allies.... Methinks that I was bornUnder an evil-coloured star, whose rayDarts death at joys!—Take me away, Count.—You [to the ladies]Can stay and see the end.[Exeunt MARIE LOUISE and NEIPPERG. MESDAMES DE MONTESQUIOU andDE BRIGNOLE go to the grille and watch and listen.]VOICE OF ALEXANDER [below]I told you, Prince, that it would never last!VOICE OF TALLEYRANDWell, sire, you should have sent him to the Azores,Or the Antilles, or best, Saint-Helena.VOICE OF THE KING OF PRUSSIAInstead, we send him but two days from France,Give him an island as his own domain,A military guard of large resource,And millions for his purse!ANOTHER VOICEThe immediate causeMust be a negligence in watching him.The British Colonel Campbell should have seenThat apertures for flight were wired and barredTo such a cunning bird!ANOTHER VOICEBy all reportHe took the course direct to Naples Bay.VOICES [of new arrivals]He has made his way to France—so all tongues tell—And landed there, at Cannes! [Excitement.]COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLEDo now but noteHow cordial intercourse resolves itselfTo sparks of sharp debate! The lesser guestsAre fain to steal unnoticed from a sceneWherein they feel themselves as surplusageBeside the official minds.—I catch a signThe King of Prussia makes the English Duke;They leave the room together.COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOUYes; wit wanes,And all are going—Prince Talleyrand,The Emperor Alexander, Metternich,The Emperor Francis.... So much for the Congress!Only a few blank nobodies remain,And they seem terror-stricken.... Blackly endsSuch fair festivities. The red god WarStalks Europe’s plains anew![The curtain of the grille is dropped. MESDAMES DE MONTESQUIOUand DE BRIGNOLE leave the gallery. The light is extinguishedthere and the scene disappears.]SCENE IIILA MURE, NEAR GRENOBLE[A lonely road between a lake and some hills, two or three milesoutside the village of la Mure, is discovered. A battalion ofthe Fifth French royalist regiment of the line under COMMANDANTLESSARD, is drawn up in the middle of the road with a company ofsappers and miners, comprising altogether about eight hundred men.Enter to them from the south a small detachment of lancers withan aide-de-camp at their head. They ride up to within speakingdistance.]LESSARDThey are from Bonaparte. Present your arms!AIDE [calling]We’d parley on Napoléon’s behalf,And fain would ask you join him.LESSARDAl paroleWith rebel bands the Government forbids.Come five steps further and we fire!AIDETo France,And to posterity through fineless time,Must you then answer for so foul a blowAgainst the common weal![NAPOLÉON’S aide-de-camp and the lancers turn about and rideback out of sight. The royalist troops wait. Presently therereappears from the same direction a small column of soldiery,representing the whole of NAPOLÉON’S little army shipped fromElba. It is divided into an advance-guard under COLONEL MALLET,and two bodies behind, a troop of Polish lancers under COLONELJERMANWSKI on the right side of the road, and some officerswithout troops on the left, under MAJOR PACCONI.NAPOLÉON rides in the midst of the advance-guard, in the oldfamiliar “redingote grise,” cocked hat, and tricolor cockade,his well-known profile keen against the hills. He is attendedby GENERALS BERTRAND, DROUOT, and CAMBRONNE. When they get withingun-shot of the royalists the men are halted. NAPOLÉON dismountsand steps forward.]NAPOLÉONDirect the menTo lodge their weapons underneath the arm,Points downward. I shall not require them here.COLONEL MALLETSire, is it not a needless jeopardyTo meet them thus? The sentiments of theseWe do not know, and the first trigger pressedMay end you.NAPOLÉONI have thought it out, my friend,And value not my life as in itself,But as to France, severed from whose embrace]I am dead already.[He repeats the order, which is carried out. There is a breathlesssilence, and people from the village gather round with tragicexpectations. NAPOLÉON walks on alone towards the Fifth battalion,Throwing open his great-coat and revealing his uniform and theribbon of the Legion of Honour. Raising his hand to his hat hesalutes.]LESSARDPresent arms![The firelocks of the royalist battalion are levelled at NAPOLÉON.]NAPOLÉON [still advancing]Men of the Fifth,See—here I am!... Old friends, do you not know me?If there be one among you who would slayHis Chief of proud past years, let him come onAnd do it now! [A pause.]LESSARD [to his next officer]They are death-white at his words!They’ll fire not on this man. And I am helpless.SOLDIERS [suddenly]Why yes! We know you, father. Glad to see ye!The Emperor for ever! Ha! Huzza![They throw their arms upon the ground, and, rushing forward,sink down and seize NAPOLÉON’S knees and kiss his hands. Thosewho cannot get near him wave their shakos and acclaim himpassionately. BERTRAND, DROUOT, and CAMBRONNE come up.]NAPOLÉON [privately]All is accomplished, Bertrand! Ten days more,And we are snug within the Tuileries.[The soldiers tear out their white cockades and trample on them,and disinter from the bottom of their knapsacks tricolors, whichthey set up.NAPOLÉON’S own men now arrive, and fraternize with and embracethe soldiers of the Fifth. When the emotion has subsided,NAPOLÉON forms the whole body into a square and addresses them.]Soldiers, I came with these few faithful onesTo save you from the Bourbons,—treasons, tricks,Ancient abuses, feudal tyranny—From which I once of old delivered you.The Bourbon throne is illegitimateBecause not founded on the nation’s will,But propped up for the profit of a few.Comrades, is this not so?A GRENADIERYes, verily, sire.You are the Angel of the Lord to us;We’ll march with you to death or victory! [Shouts.][At this moment a howling dog crosses in front of them with acockade tied to its tail. The soldiery of both sides laughloudly.NAPOLÉON forms both bodies of troops into one column. Peasantryrun up with buckets of sour wine and a single glass; NAPOLÉONtakes his turn with the rank and file in drinking from it. Hebids the whole column follow him to Grenoble and Paris. Exeuntsoldiers headed by NAPOLÉON. The scene shuts.]SCENE IVSCHONBRUNN[The gardens of the Palace. Fountains and statuary are seenaround, and the Gloriette colonnade rising against the sky ona hill behind.The ex-EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE is discovered walking up and down.Accompanying her is the KING OF ROME—now a blue-eye, fair-hairedchild—in the charge of the COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU. Close by isCOUNT NEIPPERG, and at a little distance MÉNEVAL, her attendantand Napoléon’s adherent.The EMPEROR FRANCIS and METTERNICH enter at the other end of theparterre.]MARIE LOUISE [with a start]Here are the Emperor and Prince Metternich.Wrote you as I directed?NEIPPERGPromptly so.I said your Majesty had not partIn this mad move of your Imperial spouse,And made yourself a ward of the Allies;Adding, that you had vowed irrevocablyTo enter France no more.MARIE LOUISEYour worthy zealHas been a trifle swift. My meaning stretchedNot quite so far as that.... And yet—and yetIt matters little. Nothing matters much![The EMPEROR and METTERNICH come forward. NEIPPERG retires.]FRANCISMy daughter, you did not a whit too soonVoice your repudiation. Have you seenWhat the allies have papered Europe with?MARIE LOUISEI have seen nothing.FRANCISPlease you read it, Prince.METTERNICH [taking out a paper]“The Powers assembled at the Congress hereOwe it to their own troths and dignities,And to the furtherance of social order,To make a solemn Declaration, thus:By breaking the convention as to Elba,Napoléon Bonaparte forthwith destroysHis only legal title to exist,And as a consequence has hurled himselfBeyond the pale of civil intercourse.Disturber of the tranquillity of the world,There can be neither peace nor truce with him,And public vengeance is his self-sought doom.—Signed by the Plenipotentiaries.”MARIE LOUISE [pale]O God,How terrible!... What shall—-[she begins weeping.]KING OF ROMEIs it papaThey want to hurt like that, dear Mamma ’Quiou?Then ’twas no good my praying for him so;And I can see that I am not going to beA King much longer!COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU [retiring with the child]Pray for him, Monseigneur,Morning and evening just the same! They planTo take you off from me. But don’t forget—Do as I say!KING OF ROMEYes, Mamma ’Quiou, I will!—But why have I no pages now? And whyDoes my mamma the Empress weep so much?COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOUWe’ll talk elsewhere.[MONTESQUIOU and the KING OF ROME withdraw to back.]FRANCISAt least, then, you agreeNot to attempt to follow Paris-wardYour conscience-lacking husband, and createMore troubles in the State?—Remember this,I sacrifice my every man and horseEre he Rule France again.MARIE LOUISEI am pledged alreadyTo hold by the Allies; let that suffice!METTERNICHFor the clear good of all, your Majesty,And for your safety and the King of Rome’s,It most befits that your Imperial fatherShould have sole charge of the young king henceforth,While these convulsions rage. That this is soYou will see, I think, in view of being installedAs Parma’s Duchess, and take steps therefor.MARIE LOUISE [coldly]I understand the terms to be as follows:Parma is mine—my very own possession,—And as a counterquit, the guardianshipIs ceded to my father of my son,And I keep out of France.METTERNICHAnd likewise this:All missives that your Majesty receivesUnder Napoléon’s hand, you tender straightThe Austrian Cabinet, the seals unbroke;With those received already.FRANCISYou discernHow vastly to the welfare of your sonThis course must tend? Duchess of Parma thronedYou shine a wealthy woman, to endowYour son with fortune and large landed fee.MARIE LOUISE [bitterly]I must have Parma: and those being the termsPerforce accept! I weary of the strainOf statecraft and political embroil:I long for private quiet!... And now wishTo say no more at all.[MÉNEVAL, who has heard her latter remarks, turns sadly away.]FRANCISThere’s nought to say;All is in train to work straightforwardly.[FRANCIS and METTERNICH depart. MARIE LOUISE retires towards thechild and the COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU at the back of the parterre,where they are joined by NEIPPERG.Enter in front DE MONTROND, a secret emissary of NAPOLÉON, disguisedas a florist examining the gardens. MÉNEVAL recognizes him andcomes forward.]MÉNEVALWhy are you here, de Montrond? All is hopeless!DE MONTRONDWherefore? The offer of the RegencyI come empowered to make, and will conduct herSafely to Strassburg with her little son,If she shrink not to breech her as a man,And tiptoe from a postern unperceived?MÉNEVALThough such quaint gear would mould her to a youthFair as Adonis on a hunting morn,Yet she’ll refuse! A German pruderySits on her still; more, kneaded by her artsThere’s no will left to her. I conjured herTo hold aloof, sign nothing. But in vain.DE MONTROND [looking towards Marie Louise]I fain would put it to her privately!MÉNEVALA thing impossible. No word to herWithout a word to him you see with her,Neipperg to wit. She grows indifferentTo dreams as Regent; visioning a futureWherein her son and self are two of threeBut where the third is not Napoléon.DE MONTROND [In sad surprise]I may as well go hence then as I came,And kneel to Heaven for one thing—that successAttend Napoléon in the coming throes!MÉNEVALI’ll walk with you for safety to the gate,Though I am as the Emperor’s man suspect,And any day may be dismissed. If soI go to Paris.[Exeunt MÉNEVAL and DE MONTROND.]SPIRIT IRONICHad he but persevered, and biassed herTo slip the breeches on, and hie away,Who knows but that the map of France had shapedAnd it will never now![There enters from the other side of the gardens MARIA CAROLINA,ex-Queen of Naples, and grandmother of Marie Louise. The latter,dismissing MONTESQUIOU and the child, comes forward.]MARIA CAROLINAI have crossed from Hetzendorf to kill an hour;Why art so pensive, dear?MARIE LOUISEAh, why! My linesRule ruggedly. You doubtless have perusedThis vicious cry against the Emperor?He’s outlawed—to be caught alive or dead,Like any noisome beast!MARIA CAROLINANought have I heard,My child. But these vile tricks, to pluck you fromYour nuptial plightage and your rightful gloryMake me belch oaths!—You shall not join your husbandDo they assert? My God, I know one thing,Outlawed or no, I’d knot my sheets forthwith,Were I but you, and steal to him in disguise,Let come what would come! Marriage is for life.MARIE LOUISEMostly; not always: not with Joséphine;And, maybe, not with me. But, that apart,I could do nothing so outrageous.Too many things, dear grand-dame, you forget.A puppet I, by force inflexible,Was bid to wed Napoléon at a nod,—The man acclaimed to me from cradle-daysAs the incarnate of all evil things,The Antichrist himself.—I kissed the cup,Gulped down the inevitable, and married him;But none the less I saw myself thereinThe lamb whose innocent flesh was dressed to graceThe altar of dynastic ritual!—Hence Elba flung no duty-call to me,Neither does Paris now.MARIA CAROLINAI do perceiveThey have worked on you to much effect already!Go, join your Count; he waits you, dear.—Well, well;The way the wind blows needs no cock to tell![Exeunt severally QUEEN MARIA CAROLINA and MARIE LOUISE withNEIPPERG. The sun sets over the gardens and the scene fades.]SCENE VLONDON. THE OLD HOUSE OF COMMONS[The interior of the Chamber appears as in Scene III., Act I.,Part I., except that the windows are not open and the treeswithout are not yet green.Among the Members discovered in their places are, of ministersand their supporters, LORD CASTLEREAGH the Foreign Secretary,VANSITTART Chancellor of the Exchequer, BATHURST, PALMERSTONthe War Secretary, ROSE, PONSONBY, ARBUTHNOT, LUSHINGTON, GARROWthe Attorney General, SHEPHERD, LONG, PLUNKETT, BANKES; and amongthose of the Opposition SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, WHITBREAD, TIERNEY,ABERCROMBY, DUNDAS, BRAND, DUNCANNON, LAMBTON, HEATHCOTE, SIRSAMUEL ROMILLY, G. WALPOLE, RIDLEY, OSBORNE, and HORNER.Much interest in the debate is apparent, and the galleries arefull. LORD CASTLEREAGH rises.]CASTLEREAGHAt never a moment in my stressed career,Amid no memory-moving urgencies,Have I, sir, felt so gravely set on meThe sudden, vast responsibilityThat I feel now. Few things conceivableCould more momentous to the future beThan what may spring from counsel here to-nightOn means to meet the plot unparalleledIn full fierce play elsewhere. Sir, this being so,And seeing how the events of these last daysMenace the toil of twenty anxious years,And peril all that period’s patient aim,No auguring mind can doubt that deeds which rootIn steadiest purpose only, will effectDeliverance from a world-calamityAs dark as any in the vaults of Time.Now, what we notice front and foremost isThat this convulsion speaks not, pictures notThe heart of France. It comes of artifice—From the unique and sinister influenceOf a smart army-gamester—upon menWho have shared his own excitements, spoils, and crimes.—This man, who calls himself most impiouslyThe Emperor of France by Grace of God,Has, in the scale of human character,Dropt down so low, that he has set at noughtAll pledges, stipulations, guarantees,And stepped upon the only pedestalOn which he cares to stand—his lawless will.Indeed, it is a fact scarce credibleThat so mysteriously in his own breastDid this adventurer lock the scheme he planned,That his companion Bertrand, chief in trust,Was unapprised thereof until the hourIn which the order to embark was given!I think the House will readily discernThat the wise, wary trackway to be trodBy our own country in the crisis reached,Must lie ’twixt two alternatives,—of warIn concert with the Continental Powers,Or of an armed and cautionary courseSufficing for the present phase of things.Whatever differences of view prevailOn the so serious and impending question—Whether in point of prudent reckoning’Twere better let the power set up exist,Or promptly at the outset deal with it—Still, to all eyes it is imperativeThat some mode of safeguardance be devised;And if I cannot range before the House,At this stage, all the reachings of the case,I will, if needful, on some future dayPoise these nice matters on their merits here.Meanwhile I have to move:That an address unto His Royal HighnessBe humbly offered for his gracious message,And to assure him that his faithful CommonsAre fully roused to the dark hazardriesTo which the life and equanimityOf Europe are exposed by deeds in France,In contravention of the plighted pactsAt Paris in the course of yester-year.That, in a cause of such wide-waked concern,It doth afford us real relief to knowThat concert with His Majesty’s AlliesIs being effected with no loss of time—Such concert as will thoroughly provideFor Europe’s full and long security. [Cheers.]That we, with zeal, will speed such help to himSo to augment his force by sea and landAs shall empower him to set afootSwift measures meet for its accomplishing. [Cheers.]BURDETTIt seems to me almost impossible,Weighing the language of the noble lord,To catch its counsel,—whether peace of war. [Hear, hear.]If I translate his words to signifyThe high expediency of watch and ward,That we may not be taken unawares,I own concurrence; but if he proposeToo plunge this realm into a sea of bloodTo reinstate the Bourbon line in France,I should but poorly do my duty hereDid I not lift my voice protestinglyAgainst so ruinous an enterprise!Sir, I am old enough to call to mindThe first fierce frenzies for the selfsame end,The fruit of which was to endow this man,The object of your apprehension now,With such a might as could not be withstoodBy all of banded Europe, till he roamedAnd wrecked it wantonly on Russian plains.Shall, then, another score of scourging yearsDistract this land to make a Bourbon king?Wrongly has Bonaparte’s late course been calledA rude incursion on the soil of France.—Who ever knew a sole and single manInvade a nation thirty million strong,And gain in some few days full sovereigntyAgainst the nation’s will!—The truth is this:The nation longed for him, and has obtained him....I have beheld the agonies of warThrough many a weary season; seen enoughTo make me hold that scarcely any goalIs worth the reaching by so red a road.No man can doubt that this Napoléon standsAs Emperor of France by Frenchmen’s wills.Let the French settle, then, their own affairs;I say we shall have nought to apprehend!—Much as I might advance in proof of this,I’ll dwell not thereon now. I am satisfiedTo give the general reasons which, in brief,Balk my concurrence in the Address proposed. [Cheers.]PONSONBYMy words will be but few, for the AddressConstrains me to support it as it stands.So far from being the primary step to war,Its sense and substance is, in my regard,To leave the House to guidance by eventsOn the grave question of hostilities.The statements of the noble lord, I hold,Have not been candidly interpretedBy grafting on to them a headstrong will,As does the honourable baronet,To rob the French of Buonaparte’s rule,And force them back to Bourbon monarchism.That our free land, at this abnormal time,Should put her in a pose of wariness,No unwarped mind can doubt. Must war revive,Let it be quickly waged; and quickly, too,Reach its effective end: though ’tis my hope,My ardent hope, that peace may be preserved.WHITBREADWere it that I could think, as does my friend,That ambiguity of sentimentInformed the utterance of the noble lord[As oft does ambiguity of word],I might with satisfied and sure resolveVote straight for the Address. But eyeing wellThe flimsy web there woven to entrapThe credence of my honourable friends,I must with all my energy contestThe wisdom of a new and hot crusadeFor fixing who shall fill the throne of France.Already are the seeds of mischief sown:The Declaration at Vienna, signedAgainst Napoléon, is, in my regard,Abhorrent, and our country’s characterDefaced by our subscription to its terms!If words have any meaning it incitesTo sheer assassination; it proclaimsThat any meeting Bonaparte may slay him;And, whatso language the Allies now hold,In that outburst, at least, was war declared.The noble lord to-night would second it,Would seem to urge that we full arm, then waitFor just as long, no longer, than would serveThe preparations of the other Powers,And then—pounce down on France!CASTLEREAGHNo, no! Not so.WHITBREADGood God, then, what are we to understand?—However, this denial is a gain,And my misapprehension owes its birthEntirely to that mystery of phraseWhich taints all rhetoric of the noble lord,Well, what is urged for new aggression now,To vamp up and replace the Bourbon line?The wittiest man who ever sat here21saidThat half our nation’s debt had been incurredIn efforts to suppress the Bourbon power,The other half in efforts to restore it, [laughter]And I must deprecate a further plungeFor ends so futile! Why, since MinistersCraved peace with Bonaparte at Chatillon,Should they refuse him peace and quiet now?This brief amendment therefore I submitTo limit Ministers’ aggressivenessAnd make self-safety all their chartering:“We at the same time earnestly imploreThat the Prince Regent graciously induceStrenuous endeavours in the cause of peace,So long as it be done consistentlyWith the due honour of the English crown.” [Cheers.]CASTLEREAGHThe arguments of Members oppositePosit conditions which experience provesBut figments of a dream;—that honesty,Truth, and good faith in this same BonaparteMay be assumed and can be acted on:This of one who is loud to violateBonds the most sacred, treaties the most grave!...It follows not that since this realm was wonTo treat with Bonaparte at Chatillon,It can treat now. And as for assassination,The sentiments outspoken here to-nightAre much more like to urge to desperate deedsAgainst the persons of our good Allies,Than are, against Napoléon, statements signedBy the Vienna plenipotentiaries!We are, in fine, too fully warrantedOn moral grounds to strike at Bonaparte,If we at any crisis reckon itExpedient so to do. The GovernmentWill act throughout in concert with the Allies,And Ministers are well within their rightsTo claim that their responsibilityBe not disturbed by hackneyed forms of speech [“Oh, oh”]Upon war’s horrors, and the bliss of peace,—Which none denies! [Cheers.]PONSONBYI ask the noble lord,If that his meaning and pronouncement beImmediate war?CASTLEREAGHI have not phrased it so.OPPOSITION CRIESThe question is unanswered![There are excited calls, and the House divides. The result isannounced as thirty-seven for WHITBREAD’S amendment, and againstit two hundred and twenty. The clock strikes twelve as the Houseadjourns.]SCENE VIWESSEX. DURNOVER GREEN, CASTERBRIDGE[On a patch of green grass on Durnover Hill, in the purlieus ofCasterbridge, a rough gallows has been erected, and an effigy ofNapoléon hung upon it. Under the effigy are faggots of brushwood.It is the dusk of a spring evening, and a great crowd has gathered,comprising male and female inhabitants of the Durnover suburband villagers from distances of many miles. Also are presentsome of the county yeomanry in white leather breeches and scarlet,volunteers in scarlet with green facings, and the REVEREND MR.PALMER, vicar of the parish, leaning against the post of hisgarden door, and smoking a clay pipe of preternatural length.Also PRIVATE CANTLE from Egdon Heath, and SOLOMON LONGWAYS ofCasterbridge. The Durnover band, which includes a clarionet,{serpent,} oboe, tambourine, cymbals, and drum, is playing “LordWellington’s Hornpipe.”]RUSTIC [wiping his face]Says I, please God I’ll lose a quarter to zee he burned! And I leftStourcastle at dree o’clock to a minute. And if I’d known that Ishould be too late to zee the beginning on’t, I’d have lost a halfto be a bit sooner.YEOMANOh, you be soon enough good-now. He’s just going to be lighted.RUSTICBut shall I zee en die? I wanted to zee if he’d die hard,YEOMANWhy, you don’t suppose that Boney himself is to be burned here?RUSTICWhat—not Boney that’s to be burned?A WOMANWhy, bless the poor man, no! This is only a mommet they’ve made ofhim, that’s got neither chine nor chitlings. His innerds be only alock of straw from Bridle’s barton.LONGWAYSHe’s made, neighbour, of a’ old cast jacket and breeches from ourbarracks here. Likeways Grammer Pawle gave us Cap’n Meggs’s oldZunday shirt that she’d saved for tinder-box linnit; and KeeperTricksey of Mellstock emptied his powder-horn into a barm-bladder,to make his heart wi’.RUSTIC [vehemently]Then there’s no honesty left in Wessex folk nowadays at all! “Boney’sgoing to be burned on Durnover Green to-night,”— that was what Ithought, to be sure I did, that he’d been catched sailing from hisislant and landed at Budmouth and brought to Casterbridge Jail, thenatural retreat of malefactors!—False deceivers—making me lose aquarter who can ill afford it; and all for nothing!LONGWAYS’Tisn’t a mo’sel o’ good for thee to cry out against Wessex folk, when’twas all thy own stunpoll ignorance.[The VICAR OF DURNOVER removes his pipe and spits perpendicularly.]VICARMy dear misguided man, you don’t imagine that we should be so inhumanin this Christian country as to burn a fellow creature alive?RUSTICFaith, I won’t say I didn’t! Durnover folk have never had thehighest of Christian character, come to that. And I didn’t knowbut that even a pa’son might backslide to such things in these gorytimes—I won’t say on a Zunday, but on a week-night like this—whenwe think what a blasphemious rascal he is, and that there’s not amore charnel-minded villain towards womenfolk in the whole world.[The effigy has by this time been kindled, and they watch it burn,the flames making the faces of the crowd brass-bright, and lightingthe grey tower of Durnover Church hard by.]WOMAN [singing]Bayonets and firelocks!I wouldn’t my mammy should know’tBut I’ve been kissed in a sentry-box,Wrapped up in a soldier’s coat!PRIVATE CANTLETalk of backsliding to burn Boney, I can backslide to anythingwhen my blood is up, or rise to anything, thank God for’t! Why,I shouldn’t mind fighting Boney single-handed, if so be I hadthe choice o’ weapons, and fresh Rainbarrow flints in my flint-box,and could get at him downhill. Yes, I’m a dangerous hand with apistol now and then!... Hark, what’s that? [A horn is heardeastward on the London Road.] Ah, here comes the mail. Now we maylearn something. Nothing boldens my nerves like news of slaughter![Enter mail-coach and steaming horses. It halts for a minute whilethe wheel is skidded and the horses stale.]SEVERALWhat was the latest news from abroad, guard, when you leftPiccadilly White-Horse-Cellar!GUARDYou have heard, I suppose, that he’s given up to public vengeance,by Gover’ment orders? Anybody may take his life in any way, fairor foul, and no questions asked. But Marshal Ney, who was sent tofight him, flung his arms round his neck and joined him with allhis men. Next, the telegraph from Plymouth sends news landed therebyThe Sparrow, that he has reached Paris, and King Louis hasfled. But the air got hazy before the telegraph had finished, andthe name of the place he had fled to couldn’t be made out.[The VICAR OF DURNOVER blows a cloud of smoke, and again spitsperpendicularly.]VICARWell, I’m d—- Dear me—dear me! The Lord’s will be done.GUARDAnd there are to be four armies sent against him—English, Proosian,Austrian, and Roosian: the first two under Wellington and Blücher.And just as we left London a show was opened of Boney on horsebackas large as life, hung up with his head downwards. Admission oneshilling; children half-price. A truly patriot spectacle!—Not thatyours here is bad for a simple country-place.[The coach drives on down the hill, and the crowd reflectivelywatches the burning.]WOMAN [singing]IMy Love’s gone a-fightingWhere war-trumpets call,The wrongs o’ men rightingWi’ carbine and ball,And sabre for smiting,And charger, and allIIOf whom does he think thereWhere war-trumpets call?To whom does he drink there,Wi’ carbine and ballOn battle’s red brink there,And charger, and all?IIIHer, whose voice he hears hummingWhere war-trumpets call,“I wait, Love, thy comingWi’ carbine and ball,And bandsmen a-drummingThee, charger and all!”[The flames reach the powder in the effigy, which is blown torags. The band marches off playing “When War’s Alarms,” thecrowd disperses, the vicar stands musing and smoking at hisgarden door till the fire goes out and darkness curtains thescene.]
ELBA. THE QUAY, PORTO FERRAJO[Night descends upon a beautiful blue cove, enclosed on three sidesby mountains. The port lies towards the western [right-hand] hornof the concave, behind it being the buildings of the town; theirlong white walls and rows of windows rise tier above tier on thesteep incline at the back, and are intersected by narrow alleysand flights of steps that lead up to forts on the summit.Upon a rock between two of these forts stands the Palace of theMulini, NAPOLÉONS’S residence in Ferrajo. Its windows commandthe whole town and the port.]
CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music]The Congress of Vienna sits,And war becomes a war of wits,Where every Power perpends withalIts dues as large, its friends’ as small;Till Priests of Peace prepare once moreTo fight as they have fought before!In Paris there is discontent;Medals are wrought that representOne now unnamed. Men whisper, “HeWho once has been, again will be!”
DUMB SHOWUnder cover of the dusk there assembles in the bay a small flotillacomprising a brig calledl’Inconstantand several lesser vessels.
SPIRIT OF RUMOURThe guardian on behalf of the AlliesAbsents himself from Elba. Slow surmiseToo vague to pen, too actual to ignore,Have strained him hour by hour, and more and more.He takes the sea to Florence, to declareHis doubts to Austria’s ministrator there.
SPIRIT IRONICWhen he returns, Napoléon will be—where?
Boats put off from these ships to the quay, where are now discoveredto have silently gathered a body of grenadiers of the Old Guard. Thefaces of DROUOT and CAMBRONNE are revealed by the occasional fleck ofa lantern to be in command of them. They are quietly taken aboardthe brig, and a number of men of different arms to the other vessels.
CHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music]Napoléon is going,And nought will prevent him;He snatches the momentOccasion has lent him!And what is he going for,Worn with war’s labours?—To reconquer EuropeWith seven hundred sabres.
About eight o’clock we observe that the windows of the Palace ofthe Mulini are lighted and open, and that two women sit at them:the EMPEROR’S mother and the PRINCESS PAULINE. They wave adieuxto some one below, and in a short time a little open low-wheeledcarriage, drawn by the PRINCESS PAULINE’S two ponies, descendsfrom the house to the port. The crowd exclaims “The Emperor!”NAPOLÉON appears in his grey great-coat, and is much fatter thanwhen he left France. BERTRAND sits beside him.He quickly alights and enters the waiting boat. It is a tensemoment. As the boat rows off the sailors sing the Marseillaise,and the gathered inhabitants join in. When the boat reaches thebrig its sailors join in also, and shout “Paris or death!” Yetthe singing has a melancholy cadence. A gun fires as a signalof departure. The night is warm and balmy for the season. Nota breeze is there to stir a sail, and the ships are motionless.
CHORUS OF RUMOURSHaste is salvation;And still he stays waiting:The calm plays the tyrant,His venture belating!Should the corvette returnWith the anxious Scotch colonel,Escape would be frustrate,Retention eternal.
Four aching hours are spent thus. NAPOLÉON remains silent on thedeck, looking at the town lights, whose reflections bore like augersinto the water of the bay. The sails hang flaccidly. Then a feeblebreeze, then a strong south wind, begins to belly the sails; and thevessels move.
CHORUS OF RUMOURSThe south wind, the south wind,The south wind will save him,Embaying the frigateWhose speed would enslave him;Restoring the EmpireThat fortune once gave him!
The moon rises and the ships silently disappear over the horizonas it mounts higher into the sky.
VIENNA. THE IMPERIAL PALACE[The fore-part of the scene is the interior of a dimly lit gallerywith an openwork screen or grille on one side of it that commandsa bird’s-eye view of the grand saloon below. At present the screenis curtained. Sounds of music and applause in the saloon ascendinto the gallery, and an irradiation from the same quarter shinesup through chinks in the curtains of the grille.Enter the gallery MARIE LOUISE and the COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE,followed by the COUNT NEIPPERG, a handsome man of forty two witha bandage over one eye.]
COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLEListen, your Majesty. You gather allAs well as if you moved amid them there,And are advantaged with free scope to flitThe moment the scene palls.
MARIE LOUISEAh, my dear friend,To put it so is flower-sweet of you;But a fallen Empress, doomed to furtive peepsAt scenes her open presence would unhinge,Reads not much interest in them! Yet, in truth,’Twas gracious of my father to arrangeThis glimpse-hole for my curiosity.—But I must write a letter ere I look;You can amuse yourself with watching them.—Count, bring me pen and paper. I am toldMadame de Montesquiou has been distressedBy some alarm; I write to ask its shape.[NEIPPERG spreads writing materials on a table, and MARIE LOUISEsits. While she writes he stays near her. MADAME DE BRIGNOLEgoes to the screen and parts the curtains.The light of a thousand candles blazes up into her eyes frombelow. The great hall is decorated in white and silver, enrichedby evergreens and flowers. At the end a stage is arranged, andTableaux Vivants are in progress thereon, representing the historyof the House of Austria, in which figure the most charming womenof the Court.There are present as spectators nearly all the notables who haveassembled for the Congress, including the EMPEROR OF AUSTRIAhimself, has gay wife, who quite eclipses him, the EMPERORALEXANDER, the KING OF PRUSSIA—still in the mourning he hasnever abandoned since the death of QUEEN LUISA,—the KINGOF BAVARIA and his son, METTERNICH, TALLEYRAND, WELLINGTON,NESSELRODE, HARDENBERG; and minor princes, ministers, andofficials of all nations.]
COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE [suddenly from he grille]Something has happened—so it seems, madame!The Tableau gains no heed from them, and allTurn murmuring together.
MARIE LOUISEWhat may be?[She rises with languid curiosity, and COUNT NEIPPERG adroitlytakes her hand and leads her forward. All three look down throughthe grille.]
NEIPPERGsome strange news, certainly, your Majesty,Is being discussed.—I’ll run down and inquire.
MARIE LOUISE [playfully]Nay—stay here. We shall learn soon enough.
NEIPPERGLook at their faces now. Count MetternichStares at Prince Talleyrand—no muscle moving.The King of Prussia blinks bewilderedlyUpon Lord Wellington.
MARIE LOUISE [concerned]Yes; so it seems....They are thunderstruck. See, though the music beats,The ladies of the Tableau leave their place,And mingle with the rest, and quite forgetThat they are in masquerade. The sovereigns showBy far the gravest mien.... I wonder, now,If it has aught to do with me or mine?Disasters mostly have to do with me!
COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLEThose rude diplomists from England there,At your Imperial father’s consternation,And Russia’s, and the King of Prussia’s gloom,Shake shoulders with hid laughter! That they callThe English sense of humour, I infer,—To see a jest in other people’s troubles!
MARIE LOUISE [hiding her presages]They ever take things thus phlegmatically:The safe sea minimizes Continental scareIn their regard. I wish it did in mine!But Wellington laughs not, as I discern.
NEIPPERGPerhaps, though fun for the other English here,It means new work for him. Ah—notice nowThe music makes no more pretence to play!Sovereigns and ministers have moved apart,And talk, and leave the ladies quite aloof—Even the Grand Duchesses and Empress, all—Such mighty cogitations trance their minds!
MARIE LOUISE [with more anxiety]Poor ladies; yea, they draw into the rear,And whisper ominous words among themselves!Count Neipperg—I must ask you now—go gleanWhat evil lowers. I am riddled throughWith strange surmises and more strange alarms![The COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU enters.]Ah—we shall learn it now. Well—what, madame?
COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU [breathlessly]Your Majesty, the Emperor NapoléonHas vanished from Elba! Wither flown,And how, and why, nobody says or knows.
MARIE LOUISE [sinking into a chair]My divination pencilled on my brainSomething not unlike that! The rigid mienThat mastered Wellington suggested it....Complicity will be ascribed to me,Unwitting though I stand!... [A pause.]He’ll not succeed!And my fair plans for Parma will be marred,And my son’s future fouled!—I must go hence,And instantly declare to MetternichThat I know nought of this; and in his handsPlace me unquestioningly, with dumb assentTo serve the Allies.... Methinks that I was bornUnder an evil-coloured star, whose rayDarts death at joys!—Take me away, Count.—You [to the ladies]Can stay and see the end.[Exeunt MARIE LOUISE and NEIPPERG. MESDAMES DE MONTESQUIOU andDE BRIGNOLE go to the grille and watch and listen.]
VOICE OF ALEXANDER [below]I told you, Prince, that it would never last!
VOICE OF TALLEYRANDWell, sire, you should have sent him to the Azores,Or the Antilles, or best, Saint-Helena.
VOICE OF THE KING OF PRUSSIAInstead, we send him but two days from France,Give him an island as his own domain,A military guard of large resource,And millions for his purse!
ANOTHER VOICEThe immediate causeMust be a negligence in watching him.The British Colonel Campbell should have seenThat apertures for flight were wired and barredTo such a cunning bird!
ANOTHER VOICEBy all reportHe took the course direct to Naples Bay.
VOICES [of new arrivals]He has made his way to France—so all tongues tell—And landed there, at Cannes! [Excitement.]
COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLEDo now but noteHow cordial intercourse resolves itselfTo sparks of sharp debate! The lesser guestsAre fain to steal unnoticed from a sceneWherein they feel themselves as surplusageBeside the official minds.—I catch a signThe King of Prussia makes the English Duke;They leave the room together.
COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOUYes; wit wanes,And all are going—Prince Talleyrand,The Emperor Alexander, Metternich,The Emperor Francis.... So much for the Congress!Only a few blank nobodies remain,And they seem terror-stricken.... Blackly endsSuch fair festivities. The red god WarStalks Europe’s plains anew![The curtain of the grille is dropped. MESDAMES DE MONTESQUIOUand DE BRIGNOLE leave the gallery. The light is extinguishedthere and the scene disappears.]
LA MURE, NEAR GRENOBLE[A lonely road between a lake and some hills, two or three milesoutside the village of la Mure, is discovered. A battalion ofthe Fifth French royalist regiment of the line under COMMANDANTLESSARD, is drawn up in the middle of the road with a company ofsappers and miners, comprising altogether about eight hundred men.Enter to them from the south a small detachment of lancers withan aide-de-camp at their head. They ride up to within speakingdistance.]
LESSARDThey are from Bonaparte. Present your arms!
AIDE [calling]We’d parley on Napoléon’s behalf,And fain would ask you join him.
LESSARDAl paroleWith rebel bands the Government forbids.Come five steps further and we fire!
AIDETo France,And to posterity through fineless time,Must you then answer for so foul a blowAgainst the common weal![NAPOLÉON’S aide-de-camp and the lancers turn about and rideback out of sight. The royalist troops wait. Presently therereappears from the same direction a small column of soldiery,representing the whole of NAPOLÉON’S little army shipped fromElba. It is divided into an advance-guard under COLONEL MALLET,and two bodies behind, a troop of Polish lancers under COLONELJERMANWSKI on the right side of the road, and some officerswithout troops on the left, under MAJOR PACCONI.NAPOLÉON rides in the midst of the advance-guard, in the oldfamiliar “redingote grise,” cocked hat, and tricolor cockade,his well-known profile keen against the hills. He is attendedby GENERALS BERTRAND, DROUOT, and CAMBRONNE. When they get withingun-shot of the royalists the men are halted. NAPOLÉON dismountsand steps forward.]
NAPOLÉONDirect the menTo lodge their weapons underneath the arm,Points downward. I shall not require them here.
COLONEL MALLETSire, is it not a needless jeopardyTo meet them thus? The sentiments of theseWe do not know, and the first trigger pressedMay end you.
NAPOLÉONI have thought it out, my friend,And value not my life as in itself,But as to France, severed from whose embrace]I am dead already.[He repeats the order, which is carried out. There is a breathlesssilence, and people from the village gather round with tragicexpectations. NAPOLÉON walks on alone towards the Fifth battalion,Throwing open his great-coat and revealing his uniform and theribbon of the Legion of Honour. Raising his hand to his hat hesalutes.]
LESSARDPresent arms![The firelocks of the royalist battalion are levelled at NAPOLÉON.]
NAPOLÉON [still advancing]Men of the Fifth,See—here I am!... Old friends, do you not know me?If there be one among you who would slayHis Chief of proud past years, let him come onAnd do it now! [A pause.]
LESSARD [to his next officer]They are death-white at his words!They’ll fire not on this man. And I am helpless.
SOLDIERS [suddenly]Why yes! We know you, father. Glad to see ye!The Emperor for ever! Ha! Huzza![They throw their arms upon the ground, and, rushing forward,sink down and seize NAPOLÉON’S knees and kiss his hands. Thosewho cannot get near him wave their shakos and acclaim himpassionately. BERTRAND, DROUOT, and CAMBRONNE come up.]
NAPOLÉON [privately]All is accomplished, Bertrand! Ten days more,And we are snug within the Tuileries.[The soldiers tear out their white cockades and trample on them,and disinter from the bottom of their knapsacks tricolors, whichthey set up.NAPOLÉON’S own men now arrive, and fraternize with and embracethe soldiers of the Fifth. When the emotion has subsided,NAPOLÉON forms the whole body into a square and addresses them.]Soldiers, I came with these few faithful onesTo save you from the Bourbons,—treasons, tricks,Ancient abuses, feudal tyranny—From which I once of old delivered you.The Bourbon throne is illegitimateBecause not founded on the nation’s will,But propped up for the profit of a few.Comrades, is this not so?
A GRENADIERYes, verily, sire.You are the Angel of the Lord to us;We’ll march with you to death or victory! [Shouts.][At this moment a howling dog crosses in front of them with acockade tied to its tail. The soldiery of both sides laughloudly.NAPOLÉON forms both bodies of troops into one column. Peasantryrun up with buckets of sour wine and a single glass; NAPOLÉONtakes his turn with the rank and file in drinking from it. Hebids the whole column follow him to Grenoble and Paris. Exeuntsoldiers headed by NAPOLÉON. The scene shuts.]
SCHONBRUNN[The gardens of the Palace. Fountains and statuary are seenaround, and the Gloriette colonnade rising against the sky ona hill behind.The ex-EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE is discovered walking up and down.Accompanying her is the KING OF ROME—now a blue-eye, fair-hairedchild—in the charge of the COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU. Close by isCOUNT NEIPPERG, and at a little distance MÉNEVAL, her attendantand Napoléon’s adherent.The EMPEROR FRANCIS and METTERNICH enter at the other end of theparterre.]
MARIE LOUISE [with a start]Here are the Emperor and Prince Metternich.Wrote you as I directed?
NEIPPERGPromptly so.I said your Majesty had not partIn this mad move of your Imperial spouse,And made yourself a ward of the Allies;Adding, that you had vowed irrevocablyTo enter France no more.
MARIE LOUISEYour worthy zealHas been a trifle swift. My meaning stretchedNot quite so far as that.... And yet—and yetIt matters little. Nothing matters much![The EMPEROR and METTERNICH come forward. NEIPPERG retires.]
FRANCISMy daughter, you did not a whit too soonVoice your repudiation. Have you seenWhat the allies have papered Europe with?
MARIE LOUISEI have seen nothing.
FRANCISPlease you read it, Prince.
METTERNICH [taking out a paper]“The Powers assembled at the Congress hereOwe it to their own troths and dignities,And to the furtherance of social order,To make a solemn Declaration, thus:By breaking the convention as to Elba,Napoléon Bonaparte forthwith destroysHis only legal title to exist,And as a consequence has hurled himselfBeyond the pale of civil intercourse.Disturber of the tranquillity of the world,There can be neither peace nor truce with him,And public vengeance is his self-sought doom.—Signed by the Plenipotentiaries.”
MARIE LOUISE [pale]O God,How terrible!... What shall—-[she begins weeping.]
KING OF ROMEIs it papaThey want to hurt like that, dear Mamma ’Quiou?Then ’twas no good my praying for him so;And I can see that I am not going to beA King much longer!
COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU [retiring with the child]Pray for him, Monseigneur,Morning and evening just the same! They planTo take you off from me. But don’t forget—Do as I say!
KING OF ROMEYes, Mamma ’Quiou, I will!—But why have I no pages now? And whyDoes my mamma the Empress weep so much?
COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOUWe’ll talk elsewhere.[MONTESQUIOU and the KING OF ROME withdraw to back.]
FRANCISAt least, then, you agreeNot to attempt to follow Paris-wardYour conscience-lacking husband, and createMore troubles in the State?—Remember this,I sacrifice my every man and horseEre he Rule France again.
MARIE LOUISEI am pledged alreadyTo hold by the Allies; let that suffice!
METTERNICHFor the clear good of all, your Majesty,And for your safety and the King of Rome’s,It most befits that your Imperial fatherShould have sole charge of the young king henceforth,While these convulsions rage. That this is soYou will see, I think, in view of being installedAs Parma’s Duchess, and take steps therefor.
MARIE LOUISE [coldly]I understand the terms to be as follows:Parma is mine—my very own possession,—And as a counterquit, the guardianshipIs ceded to my father of my son,And I keep out of France.
METTERNICHAnd likewise this:All missives that your Majesty receivesUnder Napoléon’s hand, you tender straightThe Austrian Cabinet, the seals unbroke;With those received already.
FRANCISYou discernHow vastly to the welfare of your sonThis course must tend? Duchess of Parma thronedYou shine a wealthy woman, to endowYour son with fortune and large landed fee.
MARIE LOUISE [bitterly]I must have Parma: and those being the termsPerforce accept! I weary of the strainOf statecraft and political embroil:I long for private quiet!... And now wishTo say no more at all.[MÉNEVAL, who has heard her latter remarks, turns sadly away.]
FRANCISThere’s nought to say;All is in train to work straightforwardly.[FRANCIS and METTERNICH depart. MARIE LOUISE retires towards thechild and the COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU at the back of the parterre,where they are joined by NEIPPERG.Enter in front DE MONTROND, a secret emissary of NAPOLÉON, disguisedas a florist examining the gardens. MÉNEVAL recognizes him andcomes forward.]
MÉNEVALWhy are you here, de Montrond? All is hopeless!
DE MONTRONDWherefore? The offer of the RegencyI come empowered to make, and will conduct herSafely to Strassburg with her little son,If she shrink not to breech her as a man,And tiptoe from a postern unperceived?
MÉNEVALThough such quaint gear would mould her to a youthFair as Adonis on a hunting morn,Yet she’ll refuse! A German pruderySits on her still; more, kneaded by her artsThere’s no will left to her. I conjured herTo hold aloof, sign nothing. But in vain.
DE MONTROND [looking towards Marie Louise]I fain would put it to her privately!
MÉNEVALA thing impossible. No word to herWithout a word to him you see with her,Neipperg to wit. She grows indifferentTo dreams as Regent; visioning a futureWherein her son and self are two of threeBut where the third is not Napoléon.
DE MONTROND [In sad surprise]I may as well go hence then as I came,And kneel to Heaven for one thing—that successAttend Napoléon in the coming throes!
MÉNEVALI’ll walk with you for safety to the gate,Though I am as the Emperor’s man suspect,And any day may be dismissed. If soI go to Paris.[Exeunt MÉNEVAL and DE MONTROND.]
SPIRIT IRONICHad he but persevered, and biassed herTo slip the breeches on, and hie away,Who knows but that the map of France had shapedAnd it will never now![There enters from the other side of the gardens MARIA CAROLINA,ex-Queen of Naples, and grandmother of Marie Louise. The latter,dismissing MONTESQUIOU and the child, comes forward.]
MARIA CAROLINAI have crossed from Hetzendorf to kill an hour;Why art so pensive, dear?
MARIE LOUISEAh, why! My linesRule ruggedly. You doubtless have perusedThis vicious cry against the Emperor?He’s outlawed—to be caught alive or dead,Like any noisome beast!
MARIA CAROLINANought have I heard,My child. But these vile tricks, to pluck you fromYour nuptial plightage and your rightful gloryMake me belch oaths!—You shall not join your husbandDo they assert? My God, I know one thing,Outlawed or no, I’d knot my sheets forthwith,Were I but you, and steal to him in disguise,Let come what would come! Marriage is for life.
MARIE LOUISEMostly; not always: not with Joséphine;And, maybe, not with me. But, that apart,I could do nothing so outrageous.Too many things, dear grand-dame, you forget.A puppet I, by force inflexible,Was bid to wed Napoléon at a nod,—The man acclaimed to me from cradle-daysAs the incarnate of all evil things,The Antichrist himself.—I kissed the cup,Gulped down the inevitable, and married him;But none the less I saw myself thereinThe lamb whose innocent flesh was dressed to graceThe altar of dynastic ritual!—Hence Elba flung no duty-call to me,Neither does Paris now.
MARIA CAROLINAI do perceiveThey have worked on you to much effect already!Go, join your Count; he waits you, dear.—Well, well;The way the wind blows needs no cock to tell![Exeunt severally QUEEN MARIA CAROLINA and MARIE LOUISE withNEIPPERG. The sun sets over the gardens and the scene fades.]
LONDON. THE OLD HOUSE OF COMMONS[The interior of the Chamber appears as in Scene III., Act I.,Part I., except that the windows are not open and the treeswithout are not yet green.Among the Members discovered in their places are, of ministersand their supporters, LORD CASTLEREAGH the Foreign Secretary,VANSITTART Chancellor of the Exchequer, BATHURST, PALMERSTONthe War Secretary, ROSE, PONSONBY, ARBUTHNOT, LUSHINGTON, GARROWthe Attorney General, SHEPHERD, LONG, PLUNKETT, BANKES; and amongthose of the Opposition SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, WHITBREAD, TIERNEY,ABERCROMBY, DUNDAS, BRAND, DUNCANNON, LAMBTON, HEATHCOTE, SIRSAMUEL ROMILLY, G. WALPOLE, RIDLEY, OSBORNE, and HORNER.Much interest in the debate is apparent, and the galleries arefull. LORD CASTLEREAGH rises.]
CASTLEREAGHAt never a moment in my stressed career,Amid no memory-moving urgencies,Have I, sir, felt so gravely set on meThe sudden, vast responsibilityThat I feel now. Few things conceivableCould more momentous to the future beThan what may spring from counsel here to-nightOn means to meet the plot unparalleledIn full fierce play elsewhere. Sir, this being so,And seeing how the events of these last daysMenace the toil of twenty anxious years,And peril all that period’s patient aim,No auguring mind can doubt that deeds which rootIn steadiest purpose only, will effectDeliverance from a world-calamityAs dark as any in the vaults of Time.Now, what we notice front and foremost isThat this convulsion speaks not, pictures notThe heart of France. It comes of artifice—From the unique and sinister influenceOf a smart army-gamester—upon menWho have shared his own excitements, spoils, and crimes.—This man, who calls himself most impiouslyThe Emperor of France by Grace of God,Has, in the scale of human character,Dropt down so low, that he has set at noughtAll pledges, stipulations, guarantees,And stepped upon the only pedestalOn which he cares to stand—his lawless will.Indeed, it is a fact scarce credibleThat so mysteriously in his own breastDid this adventurer lock the scheme he planned,That his companion Bertrand, chief in trust,Was unapprised thereof until the hourIn which the order to embark was given!I think the House will readily discernThat the wise, wary trackway to be trodBy our own country in the crisis reached,Must lie ’twixt two alternatives,—of warIn concert with the Continental Powers,Or of an armed and cautionary courseSufficing for the present phase of things.Whatever differences of view prevailOn the so serious and impending question—Whether in point of prudent reckoning’Twere better let the power set up exist,Or promptly at the outset deal with it—Still, to all eyes it is imperativeThat some mode of safeguardance be devised;And if I cannot range before the House,At this stage, all the reachings of the case,I will, if needful, on some future dayPoise these nice matters on their merits here.Meanwhile I have to move:That an address unto His Royal HighnessBe humbly offered for his gracious message,And to assure him that his faithful CommonsAre fully roused to the dark hazardriesTo which the life and equanimityOf Europe are exposed by deeds in France,In contravention of the plighted pactsAt Paris in the course of yester-year.That, in a cause of such wide-waked concern,It doth afford us real relief to knowThat concert with His Majesty’s AlliesIs being effected with no loss of time—Such concert as will thoroughly provideFor Europe’s full and long security. [Cheers.]That we, with zeal, will speed such help to himSo to augment his force by sea and landAs shall empower him to set afootSwift measures meet for its accomplishing. [Cheers.]
BURDETTIt seems to me almost impossible,Weighing the language of the noble lord,To catch its counsel,—whether peace of war. [Hear, hear.]If I translate his words to signifyThe high expediency of watch and ward,That we may not be taken unawares,I own concurrence; but if he proposeToo plunge this realm into a sea of bloodTo reinstate the Bourbon line in France,I should but poorly do my duty hereDid I not lift my voice protestinglyAgainst so ruinous an enterprise!Sir, I am old enough to call to mindThe first fierce frenzies for the selfsame end,The fruit of which was to endow this man,The object of your apprehension now,With such a might as could not be withstoodBy all of banded Europe, till he roamedAnd wrecked it wantonly on Russian plains.Shall, then, another score of scourging yearsDistract this land to make a Bourbon king?Wrongly has Bonaparte’s late course been calledA rude incursion on the soil of France.—Who ever knew a sole and single manInvade a nation thirty million strong,And gain in some few days full sovereigntyAgainst the nation’s will!—The truth is this:The nation longed for him, and has obtained him....I have beheld the agonies of warThrough many a weary season; seen enoughTo make me hold that scarcely any goalIs worth the reaching by so red a road.No man can doubt that this Napoléon standsAs Emperor of France by Frenchmen’s wills.Let the French settle, then, their own affairs;I say we shall have nought to apprehend!—Much as I might advance in proof of this,I’ll dwell not thereon now. I am satisfiedTo give the general reasons which, in brief,Balk my concurrence in the Address proposed. [Cheers.]
PONSONBYMy words will be but few, for the AddressConstrains me to support it as it stands.So far from being the primary step to war,Its sense and substance is, in my regard,To leave the House to guidance by eventsOn the grave question of hostilities.The statements of the noble lord, I hold,Have not been candidly interpretedBy grafting on to them a headstrong will,As does the honourable baronet,To rob the French of Buonaparte’s rule,And force them back to Bourbon monarchism.That our free land, at this abnormal time,Should put her in a pose of wariness,No unwarped mind can doubt. Must war revive,Let it be quickly waged; and quickly, too,Reach its effective end: though ’tis my hope,My ardent hope, that peace may be preserved.
WHITBREADWere it that I could think, as does my friend,That ambiguity of sentimentInformed the utterance of the noble lord[As oft does ambiguity of word],I might with satisfied and sure resolveVote straight for the Address. But eyeing wellThe flimsy web there woven to entrapThe credence of my honourable friends,I must with all my energy contestThe wisdom of a new and hot crusadeFor fixing who shall fill the throne of France.Already are the seeds of mischief sown:The Declaration at Vienna, signedAgainst Napoléon, is, in my regard,Abhorrent, and our country’s characterDefaced by our subscription to its terms!If words have any meaning it incitesTo sheer assassination; it proclaimsThat any meeting Bonaparte may slay him;And, whatso language the Allies now hold,In that outburst, at least, was war declared.The noble lord to-night would second it,Would seem to urge that we full arm, then waitFor just as long, no longer, than would serveThe preparations of the other Powers,And then—pounce down on France!
CASTLEREAGHNo, no! Not so.
WHITBREADGood God, then, what are we to understand?—However, this denial is a gain,And my misapprehension owes its birthEntirely to that mystery of phraseWhich taints all rhetoric of the noble lord,Well, what is urged for new aggression now,To vamp up and replace the Bourbon line?The wittiest man who ever sat here21saidThat half our nation’s debt had been incurredIn efforts to suppress the Bourbon power,The other half in efforts to restore it, [laughter]And I must deprecate a further plungeFor ends so futile! Why, since MinistersCraved peace with Bonaparte at Chatillon,Should they refuse him peace and quiet now?This brief amendment therefore I submitTo limit Ministers’ aggressivenessAnd make self-safety all their chartering:“We at the same time earnestly imploreThat the Prince Regent graciously induceStrenuous endeavours in the cause of peace,So long as it be done consistentlyWith the due honour of the English crown.” [Cheers.]
CASTLEREAGHThe arguments of Members oppositePosit conditions which experience provesBut figments of a dream;—that honesty,Truth, and good faith in this same BonaparteMay be assumed and can be acted on:This of one who is loud to violateBonds the most sacred, treaties the most grave!...It follows not that since this realm was wonTo treat with Bonaparte at Chatillon,It can treat now. And as for assassination,The sentiments outspoken here to-nightAre much more like to urge to desperate deedsAgainst the persons of our good Allies,Than are, against Napoléon, statements signedBy the Vienna plenipotentiaries!We are, in fine, too fully warrantedOn moral grounds to strike at Bonaparte,If we at any crisis reckon itExpedient so to do. The GovernmentWill act throughout in concert with the Allies,And Ministers are well within their rightsTo claim that their responsibilityBe not disturbed by hackneyed forms of speech [“Oh, oh”]Upon war’s horrors, and the bliss of peace,—Which none denies! [Cheers.]
PONSONBYI ask the noble lord,If that his meaning and pronouncement beImmediate war?
CASTLEREAGHI have not phrased it so.
OPPOSITION CRIESThe question is unanswered![There are excited calls, and the House divides. The result isannounced as thirty-seven for WHITBREAD’S amendment, and againstit two hundred and twenty. The clock strikes twelve as the Houseadjourns.]
WESSEX. DURNOVER GREEN, CASTERBRIDGE[On a patch of green grass on Durnover Hill, in the purlieus ofCasterbridge, a rough gallows has been erected, and an effigy ofNapoléon hung upon it. Under the effigy are faggots of brushwood.It is the dusk of a spring evening, and a great crowd has gathered,comprising male and female inhabitants of the Durnover suburband villagers from distances of many miles. Also are presentsome of the county yeomanry in white leather breeches and scarlet,volunteers in scarlet with green facings, and the REVEREND MR.PALMER, vicar of the parish, leaning against the post of hisgarden door, and smoking a clay pipe of preternatural length.Also PRIVATE CANTLE from Egdon Heath, and SOLOMON LONGWAYS ofCasterbridge. The Durnover band, which includes a clarionet,{serpent,} oboe, tambourine, cymbals, and drum, is playing “LordWellington’s Hornpipe.”]
RUSTIC [wiping his face]Says I, please God I’ll lose a quarter to zee he burned! And I leftStourcastle at dree o’clock to a minute. And if I’d known that Ishould be too late to zee the beginning on’t, I’d have lost a halfto be a bit sooner.
YEOMANOh, you be soon enough good-now. He’s just going to be lighted.
RUSTICBut shall I zee en die? I wanted to zee if he’d die hard,
YEOMANWhy, you don’t suppose that Boney himself is to be burned here?
RUSTICWhat—not Boney that’s to be burned?
A WOMANWhy, bless the poor man, no! This is only a mommet they’ve made ofhim, that’s got neither chine nor chitlings. His innerds be only alock of straw from Bridle’s barton.
LONGWAYSHe’s made, neighbour, of a’ old cast jacket and breeches from ourbarracks here. Likeways Grammer Pawle gave us Cap’n Meggs’s oldZunday shirt that she’d saved for tinder-box linnit; and KeeperTricksey of Mellstock emptied his powder-horn into a barm-bladder,to make his heart wi’.
RUSTIC [vehemently]Then there’s no honesty left in Wessex folk nowadays at all! “Boney’sgoing to be burned on Durnover Green to-night,”— that was what Ithought, to be sure I did, that he’d been catched sailing from hisislant and landed at Budmouth and brought to Casterbridge Jail, thenatural retreat of malefactors!—False deceivers—making me lose aquarter who can ill afford it; and all for nothing!
LONGWAYS’Tisn’t a mo’sel o’ good for thee to cry out against Wessex folk, when’twas all thy own stunpoll ignorance.[The VICAR OF DURNOVER removes his pipe and spits perpendicularly.]
VICARMy dear misguided man, you don’t imagine that we should be so inhumanin this Christian country as to burn a fellow creature alive?
RUSTICFaith, I won’t say I didn’t! Durnover folk have never had thehighest of Christian character, come to that. And I didn’t knowbut that even a pa’son might backslide to such things in these gorytimes—I won’t say on a Zunday, but on a week-night like this—whenwe think what a blasphemious rascal he is, and that there’s not amore charnel-minded villain towards womenfolk in the whole world.[The effigy has by this time been kindled, and they watch it burn,the flames making the faces of the crowd brass-bright, and lightingthe grey tower of Durnover Church hard by.]
WOMAN [singing]Bayonets and firelocks!I wouldn’t my mammy should know’tBut I’ve been kissed in a sentry-box,Wrapped up in a soldier’s coat!
PRIVATE CANTLETalk of backsliding to burn Boney, I can backslide to anythingwhen my blood is up, or rise to anything, thank God for’t! Why,I shouldn’t mind fighting Boney single-handed, if so be I hadthe choice o’ weapons, and fresh Rainbarrow flints in my flint-box,and could get at him downhill. Yes, I’m a dangerous hand with apistol now and then!... Hark, what’s that? [A horn is heardeastward on the London Road.] Ah, here comes the mail. Now we maylearn something. Nothing boldens my nerves like news of slaughter![Enter mail-coach and steaming horses. It halts for a minute whilethe wheel is skidded and the horses stale.]
SEVERALWhat was the latest news from abroad, guard, when you leftPiccadilly White-Horse-Cellar!
GUARDYou have heard, I suppose, that he’s given up to public vengeance,by Gover’ment orders? Anybody may take his life in any way, fairor foul, and no questions asked. But Marshal Ney, who was sent tofight him, flung his arms round his neck and joined him with allhis men. Next, the telegraph from Plymouth sends news landed therebyThe Sparrow, that he has reached Paris, and King Louis hasfled. But the air got hazy before the telegraph had finished, andthe name of the place he had fled to couldn’t be made out.[The VICAR OF DURNOVER blows a cloud of smoke, and again spitsperpendicularly.]
VICARWell, I’m d—- Dear me—dear me! The Lord’s will be done.
GUARDAnd there are to be four armies sent against him—English, Proosian,Austrian, and Roosian: the first two under Wellington and Blücher.And just as we left London a show was opened of Boney on horsebackas large as life, hung up with his head downwards. Admission oneshilling; children half-price. A truly patriot spectacle!—Not thatyours here is bad for a simple country-place.[The coach drives on down the hill, and the crowd reflectivelywatches the burning.]
WOMAN [singing]IMy Love’s gone a-fightingWhere war-trumpets call,The wrongs o’ men rightingWi’ carbine and ball,And sabre for smiting,And charger, and allIIOf whom does he think thereWhere war-trumpets call?To whom does he drink there,Wi’ carbine and ballOn battle’s red brink there,And charger, and all?IIIHer, whose voice he hears hummingWhere war-trumpets call,“I wait, Love, thy comingWi’ carbine and ball,And bandsmen a-drummingThee, charger and all!”[The flames reach the powder in the effigy, which is blown torags. The band marches off playing “When War’s Alarms,” thecrowd disperses, the vicar stands musing and smoking at hisgarden door till the fire goes out and darkness curtains thescene.]