ACT FOURTHSCENE ITHE UPPER RHINE[The view is from a vague altitude over the beautiful countrytraversed by the Upper Rhine, which stretches through it inbirds-eye perspective. At this date in Europe’s history thestream forms the frontier between France and Germany.It is the morning of New Year’s Day, and the shine of the tardysun reaches the fronts of the beetling castles, but scarcelydescends far enough to touch the wavelets of the river windingleftwards across the many-leagued picture from Schaffhausen toCoblenz.]DUMB SHOWAt first nothing—not even the river itself—seems to move in thepanorama. But anon certain strange dark patches in the landscape,flexuous and riband-shaped, are discerned to be moving slowly.Only one movable object on earth is large enough to be conspicuousherefrom, and that is an army. The moving shapes are armies.The nearest, almost beneath us, is defiling across the river by abridge of boats, near the junction of the Rhine and the Neckar,where the oval town of Mannheim, standing in the fork between thetwo rivers, has from here the look of a human head in a cleftstick. Martial music from many bands strikes up as the crossingis effected, and the undulating columns twinkle as if they werescaly serpents.SPIRIT OF RUMOURIt is the Russian host, invading France!Many miles to the left, down-stream, near the little town of Caube,another army is seen to be simultaneously crossing the pale current,its arms and accoutrements twinkling in like manner.SPIRIT OF RUMOURThither the Prussian levies, too, advance!Turning now to the right, far away by Basel [beyond which theSwiss mountains close the scene], a still larger train of war-geared humanity, two hundred thousand strong, is discernible.It has already crossed the water, which is much narrower here,and has advanced several miles westward, where its ductile massof greyness and glitter is beheld parting into six columns, thatmarch on in flexuous courses of varying direction.SPIRIT OF RUMOURThere glides carked Austria’s invading force!—Panting, too, Paris-wards with foot and horse,Of one intention with the other twain,And Wellington, from the south, in upper Spain.All these dark and grey columns, converging westward by suredegrees, advance without opposition. They glide on as if bygravitation, in fluid figures, dictated by the conformation ofthe country, like water from a burst reservoir; mostly snake-shaped, but occasionally with batrachian and saurian outlines.In spite of the immensity of this human mechanism on its surface,the winter landscape wears an impassive look, as if nothing werehappening.Evening closes in, and the Dumb Show is obscured.SCENE IIPARIS. THE TUILERIES[It is Sunday just after mass, and the principal officers of theNational Guard are assembled in the Salle des Marechaux. Theystand in an attitude of suspense, some with the print of sadnesson their faces, some with that of perplexity.The door leading from the Hall to the adjoining chapel is thrownopen. There enter from the chapel with the last notes of theservice the EMPEROR NAPOLÉON and the EMPRESS; and simultaneouslyfrom a door opposite MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, the governess, whocarries in her arms the KING OF ROME, now a fair child betweentwo and three. He is clothed in a miniature uniform of theGuards themselves.MADAM DE MONTESQUIOU brings forward the child and sets him on hisfeet near his mother. NAPOLÉON, with a mournful smile, giving onehand to the boy and the other to MARIE LOUISE,en famille, leadsthem forward. The Guard bursts into cheers.]NAPOLÉONGentlemen of the National Guard and friends,I have to leave you; and before I fareTo Heaven know what of personal destiny,I give into your loyal guardianshipThose dearest in the world to me; my wife,The Empress, and my son the King of Rome.—I go to shield your roofs and kin from foesWho have dared to pierce the fences of our land;And knowing that you house those dears of mine,I start afar in all tranquillity,Stayed by my trust in your proved faithfulness.[Enthusiastic cheers for the Guard.]OFFICERS [with emotion]We proudly swear to justify the trust!And never will we see another sitThan you, or yours, on the great throne of France.NAPOLÉONI ratify the Empress’ regency,And re-confirm it on last year’s lines,My bother Joseph stoutening her ruleAs the Lieutenant-General of the State.—Vex her with no divisions; let regardFor property, for order, and for FranceBe chief with all. Know, gentlemen, the AlliesAre drunken with success. Their late advantageThey have handled wholly for their own gross gain,And made a pastime of my agony.That I go clogged with cares I sadly own;Yet I go primed with hope; ay, in despiteOf a last sorrow that has sunk upon me,—The grief of hearing, good and constant friends,That my own sister’s consort, Naples’ king,Blazons himself a backer of the Allies,And marches with a Neapolitan forceAgainst our puissance under Prince Eugène.The varied operations to ensueMay bring the enemy largely Paris-wards;But suffer no alarm; before long daysI will annihilate by flank and rearThose who have risen to trample on our soil;And as I have done so many and proud a time,Come back to you with ringing victory!—Now, see: I personally present to youMy son and my successor ere I go.[He takes the child in his arms and carries him round to theofficers severally. They are much affected and raise loudcheers.]You stand by him and her? You swear as much?OFFICERSWe do!NAPOLÉONThis you repeat—you promise it?OFFICERSWe promise. May the dynasty live for ever![Their shouts, which spread to the Carrousel without, are echoedby the soldiers of the Guard assembled there. The EMPRESS is nowin tears, and the EMPEROR supports her.]MARIE LOUISESuch whole enthusiasm I have never known!—Not even from the Landwehr of Vienna.[Amid repeated protestations and farewells NAPOLÉON, the EMPRESS,the KING OF ROME, MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, etc. go out in onedirection, and the officers of the National Guard in another.The curtain falls for an interval.When it rises again the apartment is in darkness, and its atmospherechilly. The January night-wind howls without. Two servants enterhastily, and light candles and a fire. The hands of the clock arepointing to three.The room is hardly in order when the EMPEROR enters, equipped forthe intended journey; and with him, his left arm being round herwaist, walks MARIE LOUISE in a dressing-gown. On his right armhe carries the KING OF ROME, and in his hand a bundle of papers.COUNT BERTRAND and a few members of the household follow.Reaching the middle of the room, he kisses the child and embracesthe EMPRESS, who is tearful, the child weeping likewise. NAPOLÉONtakes the papers to the fire, thrusts them in, and watches themconsume; then burns other bundles brought by his attendants.]NAPOLÉON [gloomily]Better to treat them thus; since no one knowsWhat comes, or into whose hands he may fall!MARIE LOUISEI have an apprehension-unexplained—That I shall never see you any more!NAPOLÉONDismiss such fears. You may as well as not.As things are doomed to be they will be, dear.If shadows must come, let them come as thoughThe sun were due and you were trusting to it:’Twill teach the world it wrongs in bringing them.[They embrace finally. Exeunt NAPOLÉON, etc. Afterwards MARIELOUISE and the child.]SPIRIT OF THE YEARSHer instinct forwardly is keen in cast,And yet how limited. True it may beThey never more will meet; although—to useThe bounded prophecy I am dowered with—The screen that will maintain their severanceWould pass her own believing; proving itNo gaol-grille, no scath of scorching war,But this persuasion, pressing on her pulseTo breed aloofness and a mind averse;Until his image in her soul will shapeDwarfed as a far Colossus on a plain,Or figure-head that smalls upon the main.[The lights are extinguished and the hall is left in darkness.]SCENE IIITHE SAME. THE APARTMENTS OF THE EMPRESS[A March morning, verging on seven o’clock, throws its cheerlessstare into the private drawing-room of MARIE LOUISE, animatingthe gilt furniture to only a feeble shine. Two chamberlains ofthe palace are there in waiting. They look from the windows andyawn.]FIRST CHAMBERLAINHere’s a watering for spring hopes! Who would have supposed whenthe Emperor left, and appointed her Regent, that she and the Regencytoo would have to scurry after in so short a time!SECOND CHAMBERLAINWas a course decided on last night?FIRST CHAMBERLAINYes. The Privy Council sat till long past midnight, debating theburning question whether she and the child should remain or not.Some were one way, some the other. She settled the matter by sayingshe would go.SECOND CHAMBERLAINI thought it might come to that. I heard the alarm beating all nightto assemble the National Guard; and I am told that some volunteershave marched out to support Marmot. But they are a mere handful:what can they do?[A clatter of wheels and a champing and prancing of horses isheard outside the palace. MÉNEVAL enters, and divers officersof the household; then from her bedroom at the other end MARIELOUISE, in a travelling dress and hat, leading the KING OF ROME,attired for travel likewise. She looks distracted and pale.Next come the DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO, lady of honour, the COUNTESSDE MONTESQUIOU, ladies of the palace, and others, all in travellingtrim.]KING OF ROME [plaintively]Why are we doing these strange things, mamma,And what did we get up so early for?MARIE LOUISEI cannot, dear, explain. So many eventsEnlarge and make so many hours of one,That it would be too hard to tell them now.KING OF ROMEBut you know why we a setting out like this?Is it because we fear our enemies?MARIE LOUISEWe are not sure that we are going yet.I may be needful; but don’t ask me here.Some time I will tell you.[She sits down irresolutely, and bestows recognitions on theassembled officials with a preoccupied air.]KING OF ROME [in a murmur]I like being here best;And I don’t want to go I know not where!MARIE LOUISERun, dear to Mamma ’Quiou and talk to her[He goes across to MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU.]I hear that women of the Royalist hope[To the DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO]Have bent them busy in their private roomsWith working white cockades these several days.—Yes—I must go!DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLOBut why yet, Empress dear?We may soon gain good news; some messengerHie from the Emperor or King Joseph hither?MARIE LOUISEKing Joseph I await. He’s gone to eyeThe outposts, with the Ministers of War,To learn the scope and nearness of the Allies;He should almost be back.[A silence, till approaching feet are suddenly heard outside thedoor.]Ah, here he comes;Now we shall know![Enter precipitately not Joseph but officers of the National Guardand others.]OFFICERSLong live the Empress-regent!Do not quit Paris, pray, your Majesty.Remain, remain. We plight us to defend you!MARIE LOUISE [agitated]Gallant messieurs, I thank you heartily.But by the Emperor’s biddance I am bound.He has vowed he’d liefer see me and my sonBlanched at the bottom of the smothering SeineThan in the talons of the foes of France.—To keep us sure from such, then, he ordainedOur swift withdrawal with the MinistersTowards the Loire, if enemies advancedIn overmastering might. They do advance;Marshal Marmont and Mortier are repulsed,And that has come whose hazard he foresaw.All is arranged; the treasure is awheel,And papers, seals, and cyphers packed therewith.OFFICERS [dubiously]Yet to leave Paris is to court disaster!MARIE LOUISE [with petulance]I shall do what I say!... I don’t know what—What SHALL I do![She bursts into tears and rushes into her bedroom, followed bythe young KING and some of her ladies. There is a painful silence,broken by sobbings and expostulations within. Re-enter one of theladies.]LADYShe’s sorely overthrown;She flings herself upon the bed distraught.She says, “My God, let them make up their mindsTo one or other of these harrowing ills,And force to’t, and end my agony!”[An official enters at the main door.]OFFICIALI am sent here by the Minister of WarTo her Imperial Majesty the Empress.[Re-enter MARIE LOUISE and the KING OF ROME.]Your Majesty, my mission is to sayImperious need dictates your instant flight.A vanward regiment of the Prussian packsHas gained the shadow of the city walls.MÉNEVALThey are armed Europe’s scouts![Enter CAMBACÉRÈS the Arch-Chancellor, COUNT BEAUHARNAIS, CORVISARTthe physician, DE BAUSSET, DE CANISY the equerry, and others.]CAMBACÉRÈSYour Majesty,There’s not a trice to lose. The force well-nighOf all compacted Europe crowds on us,And clamours at the walls!BEAUHARNAISIf you stay longer,You stay to fall into the Cossacks hands.The people, too, are waxing masterful:They think the lingering of your MajestyMakes Paris more a peril for themselvesThan a defence for you. To fight is fruitless,And wanton waste of life. You have nought to doBut go; and I, and all the Councillors,Will follow you.MARIE LOUISEThen I was right to sayThat I would go! Now go I surely will,And let none try to hinder me again![She prepares to leave.]KING OF ROME [crying]I will not go! I like to live here best!Don’t go to Rambouillet, mamma; please don’t.It is a nasty place! Let us stay here.O Mamma ’Quiou, stay with me here; pray stay!MARIE LOUISE [to the Equerry]Bring him down.[Exit MARIE LOUISE in tears, followed by ladies-in-waiting andothers.]DE CANISYCome now, Monseigneur, come.[He catches up the boy in his arms and prepares to follow theEmpress.]KING OF ROME [kicking]No, no, no! I don’t want to go away from my house—I don’t want to!Now papa is away I am the master! [He clings to the door as theequerry is bearing him through it.]DE CANISYBut you must go.[The child’s fingers are pulled away. Exit DE CANISY with the KingOF ROME, who is heard screaming as he is carried down the staircase.]MADAME DE MONTESQUIOUI feel the child is right!A premonition has enlightened him.She ought to stay. But, ah, the die is cast![MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU and the remainder of the party follow, andthe room is left empty. Enter servants hastily.]FIRST SERVANTSacred God, where are we to go to for grub and good lying to-night?What are ill-used men to do?SECOND SERVANTI trudge like the rest. All the true philosophers are gone, and themiddling true are going. I made up my mind like the truest that everwas as soon as I heard the general alarm beat.THIRD SERVANTI stay here. No Allies are going to tickle our skins. The stormwhich roots—Dost know what a metaphor is, comrade? I brim withthem at this historic time!SECOND SERVANTA weapon of war used by the Cossacks?THIRD SERVANTYour imagination will be your ruin some day, my man! It happens tobe a weapon of wisdom used by me. My metaphor is one may’st havemet with on the rare times when th’hast been in good society. Hereit is: The storm which roots the pine spares the p—s—b—d. Nowdo you see?FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTSGood! Your teaching, friend, is as sound as true religion! We’llnot go. Hearken to what’s doing outside. [Carriages are heardmoving. Servants go to the window and look down.] Lord, there’sthe Duchess getting in. Now the Mistress of the Wardrobe; now theLadies of the Palace; now the Prefects; now the Doctors. What atime it takes! There are near a dozen berlines, as I am a patriot!Those other carriages bear treasure. How quiet the people are! Itis like a funeral procession. Not a tongue cheers her!THIRD SERVANTNow there will be a nice convenient time for a little good victualsand drink, and likewise pickings, before the Allies arrive, thankMother Molly![From a distant part of the city bands are heard playing militarymarches. Guns next resound. Another servant rushes in.]FOURTH SERVANTMontmartre is being stormed, and bombs are falling in the Chausseed’Antin![Exit fourth servant.]THIRD SERVANT [pulling something from his hat]Then it is time for me to gird my armour on.SECOND SERVANTWhat hast there?[Third servant holds up a crumpled white cockade and sticks it inhis hair. The firing gets louder.]FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTSHast got another?THIRD SERVANT [pulling out more]Ay—here they are; at a price.[The others purchase cockades of third servant. A military marchis again heard. Re-enter fourth servant.]FOURTH SERVANTThe city has capitulated! The Allied sovereigns, so it is said,will enter in grand procession to-morrow: the Prussian cavalryfirst, then the Austrian foot, then the Russian and Prussian foot,then the Russian horse and artillery. And to cap all, the peopleof Paris are glad of the change. They have put a rope round theneck of the statue of Napoléon on the column of the Grand Army, andare amusing themselves with twitching it and crying “Strangle theTyrant!”SECOND SERVANTWell, well! There’s rich colours in this kaleidoscopic world!THIRD SERVANTAnd there’s comedy in all things—when they don’t concern you.Another glorious time among the many we’ve had since eighty-nine.We have put our armour on none too soon. The Bourbons for ever![He leaves, followed by first and second servants.]FOURTH SERVANTMy faith, I think I’ll turn Englishman in my older years, wherethere’s not these trying changes in the Constitution![Follows the others. The Allies military march waxes louder asthe scene shuts.]SCENE IVFONTAINEBLEAU. A ROOM IN THE PALACE[NAPOLÉON is discovered walking impatiently up and down, andglancing at the clock every few minutes. Enter NEY.]NAPOLÉON [without a greeting]Well—the result? Ah, but your looks displayA leaden dawning to the light you bring!What—not a regency? What—not the EmpressTo hold it in trusteeship for my son?NEYSire, things like revolutions turn back,But go straight on. Imperial governanceIs coffined for your family and yourself!It is declared that military repose,And France’s well-doing, demand of youYour abdication—unconditioned, sheer.This verdict of the sovereigns cannot change,And I have pushed on hot to let you know.NAPOLÉON [with repression]I am obliged to you. You have told me promptly!—This was to be expected. I had learntOf Marmont’s late defection, and the Sixth’s;The consequence I easily inferred.NEYThe Paris folk are flaked with white cockades;Tricolors choke the kennels. RapturouslyThey clamour for the Bourbons and for peace.NAPOLÉON [tartly]I can draw inferences without assistance!NEY [persisting]They see the brooks of blood that have flowed forth;They feel their own bereavements; so their moodAsked no deep reasoning for its geniture.NAPOLÉONI have no remarks to make on that just now.I’ll think the matter over. You shall knowBy noon to-morrow my definitive.NEY [turning to go]I trust my saying what had to be saidHas not affronted you?NAPOLÉON [bitterly]No; but your hasteIn doing it has galled me, and has shown meA heart that heaves no longer in my cause!The skilled coquetting of the GovernmentHas nearly won you from old fellowship!...Well; till to-morrow, marshal, then Adieu.[Ney goes. Enter CAULAINCOURT and MACDONALD.]Ney has got here before you; and, I deem,Has truly told me all?CAULAINCOURTWe thought at firstWe should have had success. But fate said No;And abdication, making no reserves,Is, sire, we are convinced, with all respect,The only road, if you care not to riskThe Empress; loss of every dignity,And magnified misfortunes thrown on France.NAPOLÉONI have heard it all; and don’t agree with you.My assets are not quite so beggarlyThat I must close in such a shameful bond!What—do you rate as naught that I am yetFull fifty thousand strong, with Augereau,And Soult, and Suchet true, and many more?I still may know to play the Imperial gameAs well as Alexander and his friends!So—you will see. Where are my maps?—eh, where?I’ll trace campaigns to come! Where’s my paper, ink,To schedule all my generals and my means!CAULAINCOURTSire, you have not the generals you suppose.MACDONALDAnd if you had, the mere anatomyOf a real army, sire, that’s left to you,Must yield the war. A bad example tells.NAPOLÉONAh—from your manner it is worse, I see,Than I cognize!... O Marmont, Marmont,—yours,Yours was the bad sad lead!—I treated himAs if he were a son!—defended him,Made him a marshal out of sheer affection,Built, as ’twere rock, on his fidelity!“Forsake who may,” I said, “I still have him.”Child that I was, I looked for faith in friends!...Then be it as you will. Ney’s manner showsThat even he inclines to Bourbonry.—I faint to leave France thus—curtailed, pared downFrom her late spacious borders. Of the wholeThis is the keenest sword that pierces me....But all’s too late: my course is closed, I see.I’ll do it—now. Call in Bertrand and Ney;Let them be witness to my finishing![In much agitation he goes to the writing-table and begins drawingup a paper. BERTRAND and NEY enter; and behind them are seenthrough the doorway the faces of CONSTANT the valet, ROUSTAN theMameluke, and other servants. All wait in silence till the EMPERORhas done writing. He turns in his seat without looking up.]NAPOLÉON [reading]“It having been declared by the AlliesThat the prime obstacle to Europe’s peaceIs France’s empery by Napoléon,This ruler, faithful to his oath of old,Renounces for himself and for his heirsThe throne of France and that of Italy;Because no sacrifice, even of his life,Is he averse to make for France’s gain.”—And hereto do I sign. [He turns to the table and signs.][The marshals, moved, rush forward and seize his hand.]Mark, marshals, here;It is a conquering foe I covenant with,And not the traitors at the TuileriesWho call themselves the Government of France!Caulaincourt, go to Paris as before,Ney and Macdonald too, and hand in thisTo Alexander, and to him alone.[He gives the document, and bids them adieu almost without speech.The marshals and others go out. NAPOLÉON continues sitting withhis chin on his chest.An interval of silence. There is then heard in the corridor asound of whetting. Enter ROUSTAN the Mameluke, with a whetstonein his belt and a sword in his hand.]ROUSTANAfter this fall, your Majesty, ’tis plainYou will not choose to live; and knowing thisI bring to you my sword.NAPOLÉON [with a nod]I see you do, Roustan.ROUSTANWill you, sire, use it on yourself,Or shall I pass it through you?NAPOLÉON [coldly]Neither planIs quite expedient for the moment, man.ROUSTANNeither?NAPOLÉONThere may be, in some suited time,Some cleaner means of carrying out such work.ROUSTANSire, you refuse? Can you support vile lifeA moment on such terms? Why then, I pray,Dispatch me with the weapon, or dismiss me.[He holds the sword to NAPOLÉON, who shakes his head.]I live no longer under such disgrace![Exit ROUSTAN haughtily. NAPOLÉON vents a sardonic laugh, andthrows himself on a sofa, where he by and by falls asleep. Thedoor is softly opened. ROUSTAN and CONSTANT peep in.]CONSTANTTo-night would be as good a time to go as any. He will sleep therefor hours. I have my few francs safe, and I deserve them; for I havestuck to him honourably through fourteen trying years.ROUSTANHow many francs have you secured?CONSTANTWell—more than you can count in one breath, or even two.ROUSTANWhere?CONSTANTIn a hollow tree in the Forest. And as for YOUR reward, you caneasily get the keys of that cabinet, where there are more thanenough francs to equal mine. He will not have them, and you mayas well take them as strangers.ROUSTANIt is not money that I want, but honour. I leave, because I canno longer stay with self-respect.CONSTANTAnd I because there is no other such valet in the temperate zone,and it is for the good of society that I should not be wasted here.ROUSTANWell, as you propose going this evening I will go with you, to lenda symmetry to the drama of our departure. Would that I had serveda more sensitive master! He sleeps there quite indifferent to thedishonour of remaining alive![NAPOLÉON shows signs of waking. CONSTANT and ROUSTAN disappear.NAPOLÉON slowly sits up.]NAPOLÉONHere the scene lingers still! Here linger I!...Things could not have gone on as they were going;I am amazed they kept their course so long.But long or short they have ended now—at last![Footsteps are heard passing through the court without.]Hark at them leaving me! So politic ratsDesert the ship that’s doomed. By morrow-dawnI shall not have a man to shake my bedOr say good-morning to!SPIRIT OF THE YEARSHerein beholdHow heavily grinds the Will upon his brain,His halting hand, and his unlighted eye.SPIRIT IRONICA picture this for kings and subjects too!SPIRIT OF THE PITIESYet is it but Napoléon who has failed.The pale pathetic peoples still plod onThrough hoodwinkings to light!NAPOLÉON [rousing himself]This now must close.Roustan misunderstood me, though his hintServes as a fillip to a flaccid brain....—How gild the sunset sky of majestyBetter than by the act esteemed of yore?Plutarchian heroes outstayed not their fame,And what nor Brutus nor ThemistoclesNor Cato nor Mark Antony survived,Why, why should I? Sage Canabis, you primed me![He unlocks a case, takes out a little bag containing a phial, poursfrom it a liquid into a glass, and drinks. He then lies down andfalls asleep again.Re-enter CONSTANT softly with a bunch of keys in his hand. Onhis way to the cabinet he turns and looks at NAPOLÉON. Seeingthe glass and a strangeness in the EMPEROR, he abandons hisobject, rushes out, and is heard calling.Enter MARET and BERTRAND.]BERTRAND [shaking the Emperor]What is the matter, sire? What’s this you’ve done?NAPOLÉON [with difficulty]Why did you interfere!—But it is well;Call Caulaincourt. I’d speak with him a triceBefore I pass.[MARET hurries out. Enter IVAN the physician, and presentlyCAULAINCOURT.]Ivan, renew this dose;’Tis a slow workman, and requires a fellow;Age has impaired its early promptitude.[Ivan shakes his head and rushes away distracted. CAULAINCOURTseizes NAPOLÉON’S hand.]CAULAINCOURTWhy should you bring this cloud upon us now!NAPOLÉONRestrain your feelings. Let me die in peace.—My wife and son I recommend to you;Give her this letter, and the packet there.Defend my memory, and protect their lives.[They shake him. He vomits.]CAULAINCOURTHe’s saved—for good or ill-as may betide!NAPOLÉONGod—here how difficult it is to die:How easy on the passionate battle-plain![They open a window and carry him to it. He mends.]Fate has resolved what man could not resolve.I must live on, and wait what Heaven may send![MACDONALD and other marshals re-enter. A letter is brought fromMARIE LOUISE. NAPOLÉON reads it, and becomes more animated.They are well; and they will join me in my exile.Yes: I will live! The future who shall spell?My wife, my son, will be enough for me.—And I will give my hours to chroniclingIn stately words that stir futurityThe might of our unmatched accomplishments;And in the tale immortalize your namesBy linking them with mine.[He soon falls into a convalescent sleep. The marshals, etc. goout. The room is left in darkness.]SCENE VBAYONNE. THE BRITISH CAMP[The foreground is an elevated stretch of land, dotted over in rowswith the tents of the peninsular army. On a parade immediatelybeyond the tents the infantry are drawn up, awaiting something.Still farther back, behind a brook, are the French soldiery, alsoranked in the same manner of reposeful expectation. In the middle-distance we see the town of Bayonne, standing within its zigzagfortifications at the junction of the river Adour with the Nive.On the other side of the Adour rises the citadel, a fortifiedangular structure standing detached. A large and brillianttricolor flag is waving indolently from a staff on the summit.The Bay of Biscay, into which the Adour flows, is seen on theleft horizon as a level line.The stillness observed by the soldiery of both armies, and byeverything else in the scene except the flag, is at last brokenby the firing of a signal-gun from a battery in the town-wall.The eyes of the thousands present rivet themselves on the citadel.Its waving tricolor moves down the flagstaff and disappears.]THE REGIMENTS [unconsciously]Ha-a-a-a![In a few seconds there shoots up the same staff another flag—oneintended to be white; but having apparently been folded away a longtime, it is mildewed and dingy.From all the guns on the city fortifications a salute peals out.This is responded to by the English infantry and artillery with afeu-de-joie.]THE REGIMENTSHurrah-h-h-h![The various battalions are then marched away in their respectivedirections and dismissed to their tents. The Bourbon standard ishoisted everywhere beside those of England, Spain, and Portugal.The scene shuts.]SCENE VIA HIGHWAY IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF AVIGNON[The Rhone, the old city walls, the Rocher des Doms and itsedifices, appear at the back plane of the scene under thegrey light of dawn. In the foreground several postillionsand ostlers with relays of horses are waiting by the roadside,gazing northward and listening for sounds. A few loungershave assembled.]FIRST POSTILLIONHe ought to be nigh by this time. I should say he’d be very gladto get this here Isle of Elba, wherever it may be, if words be truethat he’s treated to such ghastly compliments on’s way!SECOND POSTILLIONBlast-me-blue, I don’t care what happens to him! Look at JoachimMurat, him that’s made King of Naples; a man who was only in thesame line of life as ourselves, born and bred in Cahors, out inPerigord, a poor little whindling place not half as good as ourown. Why should he have been lifted up to king’s anointment, andwe not even have had a rise in wages? That’s what I say.FIRST POSTILLIONBut now, I don’t find fault with that dispensation in particular.It was one of our calling that the Emperor so honoured, after all,when he might have anointed a tinker, or a ragman, or a streetwoman’s pensioner even. Who knows but that we should have beenking’s too, but for my crooked legs and your running pole-wound?SECOND POSTILLIONWe kings? Kings of the underground country, then, by this time, ifwe hadn’t been too rotten-fleshed to follow the drum. However, I’llthink over your defence, and I don’t mind riding a stage with him,for that matter, to save him from them that mean mischief here.I’ve lost no sons by his battles, like some others we know.[Enter a TRAVELLER on horseback.]Any tidings along the road, sir of the Emperor Napoléon that was?TRAVELLERTidings verily! He and his escort are threatened by the mob atevery place they come to. A returning courier I have met tells methat at an inn a little way beyond here they have strung up hiseffigy to the sign-post, smeared it with blood, and placarded it“The Doom that awaits Thee!” He is much delayed by such humorousinsults. I have hastened ahead to escape the uproar.SECOND POSTILLIONI don’t know that you have escaped it. The mob has been waitingup all night for him here.MARKET-WOMAN [coming up]I hope by the Virgin, as ’a called herself, that there’ll be noriots here! Though I have not much pity for a man who could treathis wife as he did, and that’s my real feeling. He might at leasthave kept them both on, for half a husband is better than none forpoor women. But I’d show mercy to him, that’s true, rather thanhave my stall upset, and messes in the streets wi’ folks’ brains,and stabbings, and I don’t know what all!FIRST POSTILLIONIf we can do the horsing quietly out here, there will be none ofthat. He’ll dash past the town without stopping at the inn wherethey expect to waylay him.—Hark, what’s this coming?[An approaching cortege is heard. Two couriers enter; then acarriage with NAPOLÉON and BERTRAND; then others with theCommissioners of the Powers,—all on the way to Elba.The carriages halt, and the change of horses is set about instantly.But before it is half completed BONAPARTE’S arrival gets known, andthrongs of men and women armed with sticks and hammers rush out ofAvignon and surround the carriages.]POPULACEOgre of Corsica! Odious tyrant! Down with Nicholas!BERTRAND [looking out of carriage]Silence, and doff your hats, you ill-mannered devils!POPULACE [scornfully]Listen to him! Is that the Corsican? No; where is he? Give him up;give him up! We’ll pitch him into the Rhone![Some cling to the wheels of NAPOLÉON’S carriage, while others,more distant, throw stones at it. A stone breaks the carriagewindow.]OLD WOMAN [shaking her fist]Give me back my two sons, murderer! Give me back my children, whoseflesh is rotting on the Russian plains!POPULACEAy; give us back our kin—our fathers, our brothers, our sons—victims to your curst ambition![One of the mob seizes the carriage door-handle and tries tounfasten it. A valet of BONAPARTE’S seated on the box draws hissword and threatens to cut the man’s arm off. The doors of theCommissioners’ coaches open, and SIR NEIL CAMPBELL, GENERALKOLLER, and COUNT SCHUVALOFF—The English, Austrian, and RussianCommissioners—jump out and come forward.]CAMPBELLKeep order, citizens! Do you not knowThat the ex-Emperor is wayfaringTo a lone isle, in the Allies’ sworn care,Who have given a pledge to Europe for his safety?His fangs being drawn, he is left powerless nowTo do you further harm.SCHUVALOFFPeople of FranceCan you insult so miserable a being?He who gave laws to a cowed world stands nowAt that world’s beck, and asks its charity.Cannot you see that merely to ignore himIs the worst ignominy to tar him with,By showing him he’s no longer dangerous?OLD WOMANHow do we know the villain mayn’t come back?While there is life, my faith, there’s mischief in him![Enter an officer with the Town-guard.]OFFICERCitizens, I am a zealot for the Bourbons,As you well know. But wanton breach of faithI will not brook. Retire![The soldiers drive back the mob and open a passage forward. TheCommissioners re-enter their carriages. NAPOLÉON puts his headout of his window for a moment. He is haggard, shabbily dressed,yellow-faced, and wild-eyed.]NAPOLÉONI thank you, captain;Also your soldiery: a thousand thanks![To Bertrand within] My God, these people of Avignon hereAre headstrong fools, like all the Provencal fold,—I won’t go through the town!BERTRANDWe’ll round it, sire;And then, as soon as we get past the place,You must disguise for the remainder miles.NAPOLÉONI’ll mount the white cockade if they invite me!What does it matter if I do or don’t?In Europe all is past and over with me....Yes—all is lost in Europe for me now!BERTRANDI fear so, sire.NAPOLÉON [after some moments]But Asia waits a man,And—who can tell?OFFICER OF GUARD [to postillions]Ahead now at full speed,And slacken not till you have slipped the town.[The postillions urge the horses to a gallop, and the carriagesare out of sight in a few seconds. The scene shuts.]SCENE VIIMALMAISON. THE EMPRESS JOSÉPHINE’S BEDCHAMBER[The walls are in white panels, with gilt mouldings, and thefurniture is upholstered in white silk with needle-worked flowers.The long windows and the bed are similarly draped, and the toiletservice is of gold. Through the panes appears a broad flat lawnadorned with vases and figures on pedestals, and entirelysurrounded by trees—just now in their first fresh green underthe morning rays of Whitsunday. The notes of an organ are audiblefrom a chapel below, where the Pentecostal Mass is proceeding.JOSÉPHINE lies in the bed in an advanced stage of illness, theABBÉ BERTRAND standing beside her. Two ladies-in-waiting areseated near. By the door into the ante-room, which is ajar,HOREAU the physician-in-ordinary and BOURDOIS the consultingphysician are engaged in a low conversation.]HOREAULamoureux says that leeches would have saved herHad they been used in time, before I came.In that case, then, why did he wait for me?BOURDOISSuch whys are now too late! She is past all hope.I doubt if aught had helped her. Not disease,But heart-break and repinings are the blastsThat wither her long bloom. Soon we must tellThe Queen Hortense the worst, and the Viceroy.HOREAUHer death was made the easier task for grief[As I regarded more than probable]By her rash rising from a sore-sick bedAnd donning thin and dainty May attireTo hail King Frederick-William and the TsarAs banquet-guests, in the old regnant style.A woman’s innocent vanity!—but how dire.She argued that amenities of StateCompelled the effort, since they had honoured herBy offering to come. I stood against it,Pleaded and reasoned, but to no account.Poor woman, what she did or did not doWas of small moment to the State by then!The Emperor Alexander has been kindThroughout his stay in Paris. He came downBut yester-eve, of purpose to inquire.BOURDOISWellington is in Paris, too, I learn,After his wasted battle at Toulouse.HOREAUHas his Peninsular army come with him?BOURDOISI hear they have shipped it to America,Where England has another war on hand.We have armies quite sufficient here already—Plenty of cooks for Paris broth just now!—Come, call we Queen Hortense and Prince Eugène.[Exeunt physicians. The ABBÉ BERTRAND also goes out. JOSÉPHINEmurmurs faintly.]FIRST LADY [going to the bedside]I think I heard you speak, your Majesty?JOSÉPHINEI asked what hour it was—-if dawn or eve?FIRST LADYTen in the morning, Madame. You forgetYou asked the same but a brief while ago.JOSÉPHINEDid I? I thought it was so long ago!...I wish to go to Elba with him so much,But the Allies prevented me. And why?I would not have disgraced him, or themselves!I would have gone to him at Fontainebleau,With my eight horses and my household trainIn dignity, and quitted him no more....Although I am his wife no longer now,I think I should have gone in spite of them,Had I not feared perversions might be sownBetween him and the woman of his choiceFor whom he sacrificed me.SECOND LADYIt is moreThan she thought fit to do, your Majesty.JOSÉPHINEPerhaps she was influenced by her father’s ire,Or diplomatic reasons told against her.And yet I was surprised she should allowAught secondary on earth to hold her fromA husband she has outwardly, at least,Declared attachment to.FIRST LADYEspecially,With ever one at hand—his son and hers—Reminding her of him.JOSÉPHINEYes.... Glad am II saw that child of theirs, though only once.But—there was not full truth—not quite, I fear—In what I told the Emperor that dayHe led him to me at Bagatelle,That ’twas the happiest moment of my life.I ought not to have said it. No! ForsoothMy feeling had too, too much gall in itTo let truth shape like that!—I also saidThat when my arms were round him I forgotThat I was not his mother. So spoke I,But oh me,—I remembered it too well!—He was a lovely child; in his fond prateHis father’s voice was eloquent. One might sayI am well punished for my sins against him!SECOND LADYYou have harmed no creature, madame; much less him!JOSÉPHINEO but you don’t quite know!... My coquetriesIn our first married years nigh racked him through.I cannot think how I could wax so wicked!...He begged me come to him in Italy,But I liked flirting in fair Paris best,And would not go. The independent spouseAt that time was myself; but afterwardsI grew to be the captive, he the free.Always ’tis so: the man wins finally!My faults I’ve ransomed to the bottom souIf ever a woman did!... I’ll write to him—I must—again, so that he understands.Yes, I’ll write now. Get me a pen and paper.FIRST LADY [to Second Lady]’Tis futile! She is too far gone to write;But we must humour her.[They fetch writing materials. On returning to the bed they findher motionless. Enter EUGÈNE and QUEEN HORTENSE. Seeing the statetheir mother is in, they fall down on their knees by her bed.JOSÉPHINE recognizes them and smiles. Anon she is able to speakagain.]JOSÉPHINE [faintly]I am dying, dears;And do not mind it—notwithstanding thatI feel I die regretted. You both love me!—And as for France, I ever have desiredHer welfare, as you know—have wrought all thingsA woman’s scope could reach to forward it....And to you now who watch my ebbing here,Declare I that Napoléon’s first-chose wifeHas never caused her land a needless tear.Tell him—these things I have said—bear him my love—Tell him—I could not write![An interval. She spasmodically flings her arms over her son anddaughter, lets them fall, and becomes unconscious. They fetch alooking-glass, and find that her breathing has ceased. The clockof the Chateau strikes noon. The scene is veiled.]SCENE VIIILONDON. THE OPERA HOUSE[The house is lighted up with a blaze of wax candles, and a Stateperformance is about to begin in honour of the Allied sovereignsnow on a visit to England to celebrate the Peace. Peace-devicesadorn the theatre. A band can be heard in the street playing“The White Cockade.”An extended Royal box has been formed by removing the partitionsof adjoining boxes. It is empty as yet, but the other parts ofthe house are crowded to excess, and somewhat disorderly, theinterior doors having been broken down by besiegers, and manypeople having obtained admission without payment. The prevalentcostume of the ladies is white satin and diamonds, with a few inlilac.The curtain rises on the first act of the opera of “Aristodemo,”MADAME GRASSINI and SIGNOR TRAMEZZINI being the leading voices.Scarcely a note of the performance can be heard amid the exclamationsof persons half suffocated by the pressure.At the end of the first act there follows a divertissement. Thecurtain having fallen, a silence of expectation succeeds. It isa little past ten o’clock.Enter the Royal box the PRINCE REGENT, accompanied by the EMPEROROF RUSSIA, demonstrative in manner now as always, the KING OFPRUSSIA, with his mien of reserve, and many minor ROYAL PERSONAGESof Europe. There are moderate acclamations. At their back and inneighbouring boxes LORD LIVERPOOL, LORD CASTLEREAGH, officers inthe suite of the sovereigns, interpreters, and others take theirplaces.The curtain rises again, and the performers are discovered drawnup in line on the stage. They sing “God save the King.” Thesovereigns stand up, bow, and resume their seats amid moreapplause.]A VOICE [from the gallery]Prinny, where’s your wife? [Confusion.]EMPEROR OF RUSSIA [to Regent]To which of us is the inquiry addressed, Prince?PRINCE REGENTTo you, sire, depend upon’t—by way of compliment.[The second act of the Opera proceeds.]EMPEROR OF RUSSIAAny later news from Elba, sir?PRINCE REGENTNothing more than rumours, which, ’pon my honour, I can hardlycredit. One is that Bonaparte’s valet has written to say theex-Emperor is becoming imbecile, and is an object of ridicule tothe inhabitants of the island.KING OF PRUSSIAA blessed result, sir, if true. If he is not imbecile he is worse—planning how to involve Europe in another way. It was a short-sighted policy to offer him a home so near as to ensure its becominga hot-bed of intrigue and conspiracy in no long time!PRINCE REGENTThe ex-Empress, Marie-Louise, hasn’t joined him after all, I learn.Has she remained at Schonbrunn since leaving France, sires?EMPEROR OF RUSSIAYes, sir; with her son. She must never go back to France. Metternichand her father will know better than let her do that. Poor youngthing, I am sorry for her all the same. She would have joinedNapoléon if she had been left to herself.—And I was sorry for theother wife, too. I called at Malmaison a few days before she died.A charming woman! SHE would have gone to Elba or to the devil withhim. Twenty thousand people crowded down from Paris to see her lyingin state last week.PRINCE REGENTPity she didn’t have a child by him, by God.KING OF PRUSSIAI don’t think the other one’s child is going to trouble us much.But I wish Bonaparte himself had been sent farther away.PRINCE REGENTSome of our Government wanted to pack him off to St. Helena—anisland somewhere in the Atlantic, or Pacific, or Great South Sea.But they were over-ruled. ’Twould have been a surer game.EMPEROR OF RUSSIAOne hears strange stories of his saying and doings. Some of mypeople were telling me to-day that he says it is to Austria thathe really owes his fall, and that he ought to have destroyed herwhen he had her in his power.PRINCE REGENTDammy, sire, don’t ye think he owes his fall to his ambition tohumble England by rupture of the Peace of Amiens, and trying toinvade us, and wasting his strength against us in the Peninsula?EMPEROR OF RUSSIAI incline to think, with the greatest deference, that it was Moscowthat broke him.KING OF PRUSSIAThe rejection of my conditions in the terms of peace at Prague, sires,was the turning-point towards his downfall.[Enter a box on the opposite side of the house the PRINCESS OFWALES, attended by LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL, SIR W. GELL, andothers. Louder applause now rings through the theatre, drowningthe sweet voice of the GRASSINI in “Aristodemo.”]LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELLIt is meant for your Royal Highness!PRINCESS OF WALESI don’t think so, my dear. Punch’s wife is nobody when Punch himselfis present.LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELLI feel convinced that it is by their looking this way.SIR W. GELLSurely ma’am you will acknowledge their affection? Otherwise we maybe hissed.PRINCESS OF WALESI know my business better than to take that morsel out of my husband’smouth. There—you see he enjoys it! I cannot assume that it ismeant for me unless they call my name.[The PRINCE REGENT rises and bows, the TSAR and the KING OF PRUSSIAdoing the same.]LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELLHe and the others are bowing for you, ma’am!PRINCESS OF WALESMine God, then; I will bow too! [She rises and bends to them.]PRINCE REGENTShe thinks we rose on her account.—A damn fool. [Aside.]EMPEROR OF RUSSIAWhat—didn’t we? I certainly rose in homage to her.PRINCE REGENTNo, sire. We were supposed to rise to the repeated applause of thepeople.EMPEROR OF RUSSIAH’m. Your customs sir, are a little puzzling.... [To the King ofPrussia.] A fine-looking woman! I must call upon the Princess ofWales to-morrow.KING OF PRUSSIAI shall, at any rate, send her my respects by my chamberlain.PRINCE REGENT [stepping back to Lord Liverpool]By God, Liverpool, we must do something to stop ’em! They don’tknow what a laughing-stock they’ll make of me if they go to her.Tell ’em they had better not.LIVERPOOLI can hardly tell them now, sir, while we are celebrating the Peaceand Wellington’s victories.PRINCE REGENTOh, damn the peace, and damn the war, and damn Boney, and damnWellington’s victories!—the question is, how am I to get over thisinfernal woman!—Well, well,—I must write, or send Tyrwhitt to-morrow morning, begging them to abandon the idea of visiting herfor politic reasons.[The Opera proceeds to the end, and is followed by a hymn andchorus laudatory to peace. Next a new ballet by MONSIEUR VESTRIS,in which M. ROZIER and MADAME ANGIOLINI dance a pas-de-deux. Thenthe Sovereigns leave the theatre amid more applause.The pit and gallery now call for the PRINCESS OF WALES unmistakably.She stand up and is warmly acclaimed, returning three statelycurtseys.]A VOICEShall we burn down Carlton House, my dear, and him in it?PRINCESS OF WALESNo, my good folks! Be quiet. Go home to your beds, and let me dothe same.[After some difficulty she gets out of the house. The people thinaway. As the candle-snuffers extinguish the lights a shouting isheard without.]VOICES OF CROWDLong life to the Princess of Wales! Three cheers for a woman wronged![The Opera-house becomes lost in darkness.]
THE UPPER RHINE[The view is from a vague altitude over the beautiful countrytraversed by the Upper Rhine, which stretches through it inbirds-eye perspective. At this date in Europe’s history thestream forms the frontier between France and Germany.It is the morning of New Year’s Day, and the shine of the tardysun reaches the fronts of the beetling castles, but scarcelydescends far enough to touch the wavelets of the river windingleftwards across the many-leagued picture from Schaffhausen toCoblenz.]
DUMB SHOWAt first nothing—not even the river itself—seems to move in thepanorama. But anon certain strange dark patches in the landscape,flexuous and riband-shaped, are discerned to be moving slowly.Only one movable object on earth is large enough to be conspicuousherefrom, and that is an army. The moving shapes are armies.The nearest, almost beneath us, is defiling across the river by abridge of boats, near the junction of the Rhine and the Neckar,where the oval town of Mannheim, standing in the fork between thetwo rivers, has from here the look of a human head in a cleftstick. Martial music from many bands strikes up as the crossingis effected, and the undulating columns twinkle as if they werescaly serpents.
SPIRIT OF RUMOURIt is the Russian host, invading France!
Many miles to the left, down-stream, near the little town of Caube,another army is seen to be simultaneously crossing the pale current,its arms and accoutrements twinkling in like manner.
SPIRIT OF RUMOURThither the Prussian levies, too, advance!
Turning now to the right, far away by Basel [beyond which theSwiss mountains close the scene], a still larger train of war-geared humanity, two hundred thousand strong, is discernible.It has already crossed the water, which is much narrower here,and has advanced several miles westward, where its ductile massof greyness and glitter is beheld parting into six columns, thatmarch on in flexuous courses of varying direction.
SPIRIT OF RUMOURThere glides carked Austria’s invading force!—Panting, too, Paris-wards with foot and horse,Of one intention with the other twain,And Wellington, from the south, in upper Spain.
All these dark and grey columns, converging westward by suredegrees, advance without opposition. They glide on as if bygravitation, in fluid figures, dictated by the conformation ofthe country, like water from a burst reservoir; mostly snake-shaped, but occasionally with batrachian and saurian outlines.In spite of the immensity of this human mechanism on its surface,the winter landscape wears an impassive look, as if nothing werehappening.Evening closes in, and the Dumb Show is obscured.
PARIS. THE TUILERIES[It is Sunday just after mass, and the principal officers of theNational Guard are assembled in the Salle des Marechaux. Theystand in an attitude of suspense, some with the print of sadnesson their faces, some with that of perplexity.The door leading from the Hall to the adjoining chapel is thrownopen. There enter from the chapel with the last notes of theservice the EMPEROR NAPOLÉON and the EMPRESS; and simultaneouslyfrom a door opposite MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, the governess, whocarries in her arms the KING OF ROME, now a fair child betweentwo and three. He is clothed in a miniature uniform of theGuards themselves.MADAM DE MONTESQUIOU brings forward the child and sets him on hisfeet near his mother. NAPOLÉON, with a mournful smile, giving onehand to the boy and the other to MARIE LOUISE,en famille, leadsthem forward. The Guard bursts into cheers.]
NAPOLÉONGentlemen of the National Guard and friends,I have to leave you; and before I fareTo Heaven know what of personal destiny,I give into your loyal guardianshipThose dearest in the world to me; my wife,The Empress, and my son the King of Rome.—I go to shield your roofs and kin from foesWho have dared to pierce the fences of our land;And knowing that you house those dears of mine,I start afar in all tranquillity,Stayed by my trust in your proved faithfulness.[Enthusiastic cheers for the Guard.]
OFFICERS [with emotion]We proudly swear to justify the trust!And never will we see another sitThan you, or yours, on the great throne of France.
NAPOLÉONI ratify the Empress’ regency,And re-confirm it on last year’s lines,My bother Joseph stoutening her ruleAs the Lieutenant-General of the State.—Vex her with no divisions; let regardFor property, for order, and for FranceBe chief with all. Know, gentlemen, the AlliesAre drunken with success. Their late advantageThey have handled wholly for their own gross gain,And made a pastime of my agony.That I go clogged with cares I sadly own;Yet I go primed with hope; ay, in despiteOf a last sorrow that has sunk upon me,—The grief of hearing, good and constant friends,That my own sister’s consort, Naples’ king,Blazons himself a backer of the Allies,And marches with a Neapolitan forceAgainst our puissance under Prince Eugène.The varied operations to ensueMay bring the enemy largely Paris-wards;But suffer no alarm; before long daysI will annihilate by flank and rearThose who have risen to trample on our soil;And as I have done so many and proud a time,Come back to you with ringing victory!—Now, see: I personally present to youMy son and my successor ere I go.[He takes the child in his arms and carries him round to theofficers severally. They are much affected and raise loudcheers.]You stand by him and her? You swear as much?
OFFICERSWe do!
NAPOLÉONThis you repeat—you promise it?
OFFICERSWe promise. May the dynasty live for ever![Their shouts, which spread to the Carrousel without, are echoedby the soldiers of the Guard assembled there. The EMPRESS is nowin tears, and the EMPEROR supports her.]
MARIE LOUISESuch whole enthusiasm I have never known!—Not even from the Landwehr of Vienna.[Amid repeated protestations and farewells NAPOLÉON, the EMPRESS,the KING OF ROME, MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, etc. go out in onedirection, and the officers of the National Guard in another.The curtain falls for an interval.When it rises again the apartment is in darkness, and its atmospherechilly. The January night-wind howls without. Two servants enterhastily, and light candles and a fire. The hands of the clock arepointing to three.The room is hardly in order when the EMPEROR enters, equipped forthe intended journey; and with him, his left arm being round herwaist, walks MARIE LOUISE in a dressing-gown. On his right armhe carries the KING OF ROME, and in his hand a bundle of papers.COUNT BERTRAND and a few members of the household follow.Reaching the middle of the room, he kisses the child and embracesthe EMPRESS, who is tearful, the child weeping likewise. NAPOLÉONtakes the papers to the fire, thrusts them in, and watches themconsume; then burns other bundles brought by his attendants.]
NAPOLÉON [gloomily]Better to treat them thus; since no one knowsWhat comes, or into whose hands he may fall!
MARIE LOUISEI have an apprehension-unexplained—That I shall never see you any more!
NAPOLÉONDismiss such fears. You may as well as not.As things are doomed to be they will be, dear.If shadows must come, let them come as thoughThe sun were due and you were trusting to it:’Twill teach the world it wrongs in bringing them.[They embrace finally. Exeunt NAPOLÉON, etc. Afterwards MARIELOUISE and the child.]
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSHer instinct forwardly is keen in cast,And yet how limited. True it may beThey never more will meet; although—to useThe bounded prophecy I am dowered with—The screen that will maintain their severanceWould pass her own believing; proving itNo gaol-grille, no scath of scorching war,But this persuasion, pressing on her pulseTo breed aloofness and a mind averse;Until his image in her soul will shapeDwarfed as a far Colossus on a plain,Or figure-head that smalls upon the main.[The lights are extinguished and the hall is left in darkness.]
THE SAME. THE APARTMENTS OF THE EMPRESS[A March morning, verging on seven o’clock, throws its cheerlessstare into the private drawing-room of MARIE LOUISE, animatingthe gilt furniture to only a feeble shine. Two chamberlains ofthe palace are there in waiting. They look from the windows andyawn.]
FIRST CHAMBERLAINHere’s a watering for spring hopes! Who would have supposed whenthe Emperor left, and appointed her Regent, that she and the Regencytoo would have to scurry after in so short a time!
SECOND CHAMBERLAINWas a course decided on last night?
FIRST CHAMBERLAINYes. The Privy Council sat till long past midnight, debating theburning question whether she and the child should remain or not.Some were one way, some the other. She settled the matter by sayingshe would go.
SECOND CHAMBERLAINI thought it might come to that. I heard the alarm beating all nightto assemble the National Guard; and I am told that some volunteershave marched out to support Marmot. But they are a mere handful:what can they do?[A clatter of wheels and a champing and prancing of horses isheard outside the palace. MÉNEVAL enters, and divers officersof the household; then from her bedroom at the other end MARIELOUISE, in a travelling dress and hat, leading the KING OF ROME,attired for travel likewise. She looks distracted and pale.Next come the DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO, lady of honour, the COUNTESSDE MONTESQUIOU, ladies of the palace, and others, all in travellingtrim.]
KING OF ROME [plaintively]Why are we doing these strange things, mamma,And what did we get up so early for?
MARIE LOUISEI cannot, dear, explain. So many eventsEnlarge and make so many hours of one,That it would be too hard to tell them now.
KING OF ROMEBut you know why we a setting out like this?Is it because we fear our enemies?
MARIE LOUISEWe are not sure that we are going yet.I may be needful; but don’t ask me here.Some time I will tell you.[She sits down irresolutely, and bestows recognitions on theassembled officials with a preoccupied air.]
KING OF ROME [in a murmur]I like being here best;And I don’t want to go I know not where!
MARIE LOUISERun, dear to Mamma ’Quiou and talk to her[He goes across to MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU.]I hear that women of the Royalist hope[To the DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO]Have bent them busy in their private roomsWith working white cockades these several days.—Yes—I must go!
DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLOBut why yet, Empress dear?We may soon gain good news; some messengerHie from the Emperor or King Joseph hither?
MARIE LOUISEKing Joseph I await. He’s gone to eyeThe outposts, with the Ministers of War,To learn the scope and nearness of the Allies;He should almost be back.[A silence, till approaching feet are suddenly heard outside thedoor.]Ah, here he comes;Now we shall know![Enter precipitately not Joseph but officers of the National Guardand others.]
OFFICERSLong live the Empress-regent!Do not quit Paris, pray, your Majesty.Remain, remain. We plight us to defend you!
MARIE LOUISE [agitated]Gallant messieurs, I thank you heartily.But by the Emperor’s biddance I am bound.He has vowed he’d liefer see me and my sonBlanched at the bottom of the smothering SeineThan in the talons of the foes of France.—To keep us sure from such, then, he ordainedOur swift withdrawal with the MinistersTowards the Loire, if enemies advancedIn overmastering might. They do advance;Marshal Marmont and Mortier are repulsed,And that has come whose hazard he foresaw.All is arranged; the treasure is awheel,And papers, seals, and cyphers packed therewith.
OFFICERS [dubiously]Yet to leave Paris is to court disaster!
MARIE LOUISE [with petulance]I shall do what I say!... I don’t know what—What SHALL I do![She bursts into tears and rushes into her bedroom, followed bythe young KING and some of her ladies. There is a painful silence,broken by sobbings and expostulations within. Re-enter one of theladies.]
LADYShe’s sorely overthrown;She flings herself upon the bed distraught.She says, “My God, let them make up their mindsTo one or other of these harrowing ills,And force to’t, and end my agony!”[An official enters at the main door.]
OFFICIALI am sent here by the Minister of WarTo her Imperial Majesty the Empress.[Re-enter MARIE LOUISE and the KING OF ROME.]Your Majesty, my mission is to sayImperious need dictates your instant flight.A vanward regiment of the Prussian packsHas gained the shadow of the city walls.
MÉNEVALThey are armed Europe’s scouts![Enter CAMBACÉRÈS the Arch-Chancellor, COUNT BEAUHARNAIS, CORVISARTthe physician, DE BAUSSET, DE CANISY the equerry, and others.]
CAMBACÉRÈSYour Majesty,There’s not a trice to lose. The force well-nighOf all compacted Europe crowds on us,And clamours at the walls!
BEAUHARNAISIf you stay longer,You stay to fall into the Cossacks hands.The people, too, are waxing masterful:They think the lingering of your MajestyMakes Paris more a peril for themselvesThan a defence for you. To fight is fruitless,And wanton waste of life. You have nought to doBut go; and I, and all the Councillors,Will follow you.
MARIE LOUISEThen I was right to sayThat I would go! Now go I surely will,And let none try to hinder me again![She prepares to leave.]
KING OF ROME [crying]I will not go! I like to live here best!Don’t go to Rambouillet, mamma; please don’t.It is a nasty place! Let us stay here.O Mamma ’Quiou, stay with me here; pray stay!
MARIE LOUISE [to the Equerry]Bring him down.[Exit MARIE LOUISE in tears, followed by ladies-in-waiting andothers.]
DE CANISYCome now, Monseigneur, come.[He catches up the boy in his arms and prepares to follow theEmpress.]
KING OF ROME [kicking]No, no, no! I don’t want to go away from my house—I don’t want to!Now papa is away I am the master! [He clings to the door as theequerry is bearing him through it.]
DE CANISYBut you must go.[The child’s fingers are pulled away. Exit DE CANISY with the KingOF ROME, who is heard screaming as he is carried down the staircase.]
MADAME DE MONTESQUIOUI feel the child is right!A premonition has enlightened him.She ought to stay. But, ah, the die is cast![MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU and the remainder of the party follow, andthe room is left empty. Enter servants hastily.]
FIRST SERVANTSacred God, where are we to go to for grub and good lying to-night?What are ill-used men to do?
SECOND SERVANTI trudge like the rest. All the true philosophers are gone, and themiddling true are going. I made up my mind like the truest that everwas as soon as I heard the general alarm beat.
THIRD SERVANTI stay here. No Allies are going to tickle our skins. The stormwhich roots—Dost know what a metaphor is, comrade? I brim withthem at this historic time!
SECOND SERVANTA weapon of war used by the Cossacks?
THIRD SERVANTYour imagination will be your ruin some day, my man! It happens tobe a weapon of wisdom used by me. My metaphor is one may’st havemet with on the rare times when th’hast been in good society. Hereit is: The storm which roots the pine spares the p—s—b—d. Nowdo you see?
FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTSGood! Your teaching, friend, is as sound as true religion! We’llnot go. Hearken to what’s doing outside. [Carriages are heardmoving. Servants go to the window and look down.] Lord, there’sthe Duchess getting in. Now the Mistress of the Wardrobe; now theLadies of the Palace; now the Prefects; now the Doctors. What atime it takes! There are near a dozen berlines, as I am a patriot!Those other carriages bear treasure. How quiet the people are! Itis like a funeral procession. Not a tongue cheers her!
THIRD SERVANTNow there will be a nice convenient time for a little good victualsand drink, and likewise pickings, before the Allies arrive, thankMother Molly![From a distant part of the city bands are heard playing militarymarches. Guns next resound. Another servant rushes in.]
FOURTH SERVANTMontmartre is being stormed, and bombs are falling in the Chausseed’Antin![Exit fourth servant.]
THIRD SERVANT [pulling something from his hat]Then it is time for me to gird my armour on.
SECOND SERVANTWhat hast there?[Third servant holds up a crumpled white cockade and sticks it inhis hair. The firing gets louder.]
FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTSHast got another?
THIRD SERVANT [pulling out more]Ay—here they are; at a price.[The others purchase cockades of third servant. A military marchis again heard. Re-enter fourth servant.]
FOURTH SERVANTThe city has capitulated! The Allied sovereigns, so it is said,will enter in grand procession to-morrow: the Prussian cavalryfirst, then the Austrian foot, then the Russian and Prussian foot,then the Russian horse and artillery. And to cap all, the peopleof Paris are glad of the change. They have put a rope round theneck of the statue of Napoléon on the column of the Grand Army, andare amusing themselves with twitching it and crying “Strangle theTyrant!”
SECOND SERVANTWell, well! There’s rich colours in this kaleidoscopic world!
THIRD SERVANTAnd there’s comedy in all things—when they don’t concern you.Another glorious time among the many we’ve had since eighty-nine.We have put our armour on none too soon. The Bourbons for ever![He leaves, followed by first and second servants.]
FOURTH SERVANTMy faith, I think I’ll turn Englishman in my older years, wherethere’s not these trying changes in the Constitution![Follows the others. The Allies military march waxes louder asthe scene shuts.]
FONTAINEBLEAU. A ROOM IN THE PALACE[NAPOLÉON is discovered walking impatiently up and down, andglancing at the clock every few minutes. Enter NEY.]
NAPOLÉON [without a greeting]Well—the result? Ah, but your looks displayA leaden dawning to the light you bring!What—not a regency? What—not the EmpressTo hold it in trusteeship for my son?
NEYSire, things like revolutions turn back,But go straight on. Imperial governanceIs coffined for your family and yourself!It is declared that military repose,And France’s well-doing, demand of youYour abdication—unconditioned, sheer.This verdict of the sovereigns cannot change,And I have pushed on hot to let you know.
NAPOLÉON [with repression]I am obliged to you. You have told me promptly!—This was to be expected. I had learntOf Marmont’s late defection, and the Sixth’s;The consequence I easily inferred.
NEYThe Paris folk are flaked with white cockades;Tricolors choke the kennels. RapturouslyThey clamour for the Bourbons and for peace.
NAPOLÉON [tartly]I can draw inferences without assistance!
NEY [persisting]They see the brooks of blood that have flowed forth;They feel their own bereavements; so their moodAsked no deep reasoning for its geniture.
NAPOLÉONI have no remarks to make on that just now.I’ll think the matter over. You shall knowBy noon to-morrow my definitive.
NEY [turning to go]I trust my saying what had to be saidHas not affronted you?
NAPOLÉON [bitterly]No; but your hasteIn doing it has galled me, and has shown meA heart that heaves no longer in my cause!The skilled coquetting of the GovernmentHas nearly won you from old fellowship!...Well; till to-morrow, marshal, then Adieu.[Ney goes. Enter CAULAINCOURT and MACDONALD.]Ney has got here before you; and, I deem,Has truly told me all?
CAULAINCOURTWe thought at firstWe should have had success. But fate said No;And abdication, making no reserves,Is, sire, we are convinced, with all respect,The only road, if you care not to riskThe Empress; loss of every dignity,And magnified misfortunes thrown on France.
NAPOLÉONI have heard it all; and don’t agree with you.My assets are not quite so beggarlyThat I must close in such a shameful bond!What—do you rate as naught that I am yetFull fifty thousand strong, with Augereau,And Soult, and Suchet true, and many more?I still may know to play the Imperial gameAs well as Alexander and his friends!So—you will see. Where are my maps?—eh, where?I’ll trace campaigns to come! Where’s my paper, ink,To schedule all my generals and my means!
CAULAINCOURTSire, you have not the generals you suppose.
MACDONALDAnd if you had, the mere anatomyOf a real army, sire, that’s left to you,Must yield the war. A bad example tells.
NAPOLÉONAh—from your manner it is worse, I see,Than I cognize!... O Marmont, Marmont,—yours,Yours was the bad sad lead!—I treated himAs if he were a son!—defended him,Made him a marshal out of sheer affection,Built, as ’twere rock, on his fidelity!“Forsake who may,” I said, “I still have him.”Child that I was, I looked for faith in friends!...Then be it as you will. Ney’s manner showsThat even he inclines to Bourbonry.—I faint to leave France thus—curtailed, pared downFrom her late spacious borders. Of the wholeThis is the keenest sword that pierces me....But all’s too late: my course is closed, I see.I’ll do it—now. Call in Bertrand and Ney;Let them be witness to my finishing![In much agitation he goes to the writing-table and begins drawingup a paper. BERTRAND and NEY enter; and behind them are seenthrough the doorway the faces of CONSTANT the valet, ROUSTAN theMameluke, and other servants. All wait in silence till the EMPERORhas done writing. He turns in his seat without looking up.]
NAPOLÉON [reading]“It having been declared by the AlliesThat the prime obstacle to Europe’s peaceIs France’s empery by Napoléon,This ruler, faithful to his oath of old,Renounces for himself and for his heirsThe throne of France and that of Italy;Because no sacrifice, even of his life,Is he averse to make for France’s gain.”—And hereto do I sign. [He turns to the table and signs.][The marshals, moved, rush forward and seize his hand.]Mark, marshals, here;It is a conquering foe I covenant with,And not the traitors at the TuileriesWho call themselves the Government of France!Caulaincourt, go to Paris as before,Ney and Macdonald too, and hand in thisTo Alexander, and to him alone.[He gives the document, and bids them adieu almost without speech.The marshals and others go out. NAPOLÉON continues sitting withhis chin on his chest.An interval of silence. There is then heard in the corridor asound of whetting. Enter ROUSTAN the Mameluke, with a whetstonein his belt and a sword in his hand.]
ROUSTANAfter this fall, your Majesty, ’tis plainYou will not choose to live; and knowing thisI bring to you my sword.
NAPOLÉON [with a nod]I see you do, Roustan.
ROUSTANWill you, sire, use it on yourself,Or shall I pass it through you?
NAPOLÉON [coldly]Neither planIs quite expedient for the moment, man.
ROUSTANNeither?
NAPOLÉONThere may be, in some suited time,Some cleaner means of carrying out such work.
ROUSTANSire, you refuse? Can you support vile lifeA moment on such terms? Why then, I pray,Dispatch me with the weapon, or dismiss me.[He holds the sword to NAPOLÉON, who shakes his head.]I live no longer under such disgrace![Exit ROUSTAN haughtily. NAPOLÉON vents a sardonic laugh, andthrows himself on a sofa, where he by and by falls asleep. Thedoor is softly opened. ROUSTAN and CONSTANT peep in.]
CONSTANTTo-night would be as good a time to go as any. He will sleep therefor hours. I have my few francs safe, and I deserve them; for I havestuck to him honourably through fourteen trying years.
ROUSTANHow many francs have you secured?
CONSTANTWell—more than you can count in one breath, or even two.
ROUSTANWhere?
CONSTANTIn a hollow tree in the Forest. And as for YOUR reward, you caneasily get the keys of that cabinet, where there are more thanenough francs to equal mine. He will not have them, and you mayas well take them as strangers.
ROUSTANIt is not money that I want, but honour. I leave, because I canno longer stay with self-respect.
CONSTANTAnd I because there is no other such valet in the temperate zone,and it is for the good of society that I should not be wasted here.
ROUSTANWell, as you propose going this evening I will go with you, to lenda symmetry to the drama of our departure. Would that I had serveda more sensitive master! He sleeps there quite indifferent to thedishonour of remaining alive![NAPOLÉON shows signs of waking. CONSTANT and ROUSTAN disappear.NAPOLÉON slowly sits up.]
NAPOLÉONHere the scene lingers still! Here linger I!...Things could not have gone on as they were going;I am amazed they kept their course so long.But long or short they have ended now—at last![Footsteps are heard passing through the court without.]Hark at them leaving me! So politic ratsDesert the ship that’s doomed. By morrow-dawnI shall not have a man to shake my bedOr say good-morning to!
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSHerein beholdHow heavily grinds the Will upon his brain,His halting hand, and his unlighted eye.
SPIRIT IRONICA picture this for kings and subjects too!
SPIRIT OF THE PITIESYet is it but Napoléon who has failed.The pale pathetic peoples still plod onThrough hoodwinkings to light!
NAPOLÉON [rousing himself]This now must close.Roustan misunderstood me, though his hintServes as a fillip to a flaccid brain....—How gild the sunset sky of majestyBetter than by the act esteemed of yore?Plutarchian heroes outstayed not their fame,And what nor Brutus nor ThemistoclesNor Cato nor Mark Antony survived,Why, why should I? Sage Canabis, you primed me![He unlocks a case, takes out a little bag containing a phial, poursfrom it a liquid into a glass, and drinks. He then lies down andfalls asleep again.Re-enter CONSTANT softly with a bunch of keys in his hand. Onhis way to the cabinet he turns and looks at NAPOLÉON. Seeingthe glass and a strangeness in the EMPEROR, he abandons hisobject, rushes out, and is heard calling.Enter MARET and BERTRAND.]
BERTRAND [shaking the Emperor]What is the matter, sire? What’s this you’ve done?
NAPOLÉON [with difficulty]Why did you interfere!—But it is well;Call Caulaincourt. I’d speak with him a triceBefore I pass.[MARET hurries out. Enter IVAN the physician, and presentlyCAULAINCOURT.]Ivan, renew this dose;’Tis a slow workman, and requires a fellow;Age has impaired its early promptitude.[Ivan shakes his head and rushes away distracted. CAULAINCOURTseizes NAPOLÉON’S hand.]
CAULAINCOURTWhy should you bring this cloud upon us now!
NAPOLÉONRestrain your feelings. Let me die in peace.—My wife and son I recommend to you;Give her this letter, and the packet there.Defend my memory, and protect their lives.[They shake him. He vomits.]
CAULAINCOURTHe’s saved—for good or ill-as may betide!
NAPOLÉONGod—here how difficult it is to die:How easy on the passionate battle-plain![They open a window and carry him to it. He mends.]Fate has resolved what man could not resolve.I must live on, and wait what Heaven may send![MACDONALD and other marshals re-enter. A letter is brought fromMARIE LOUISE. NAPOLÉON reads it, and becomes more animated.They are well; and they will join me in my exile.Yes: I will live! The future who shall spell?My wife, my son, will be enough for me.—And I will give my hours to chroniclingIn stately words that stir futurityThe might of our unmatched accomplishments;And in the tale immortalize your namesBy linking them with mine.[He soon falls into a convalescent sleep. The marshals, etc. goout. The room is left in darkness.]
BAYONNE. THE BRITISH CAMP[The foreground is an elevated stretch of land, dotted over in rowswith the tents of the peninsular army. On a parade immediatelybeyond the tents the infantry are drawn up, awaiting something.Still farther back, behind a brook, are the French soldiery, alsoranked in the same manner of reposeful expectation. In the middle-distance we see the town of Bayonne, standing within its zigzagfortifications at the junction of the river Adour with the Nive.On the other side of the Adour rises the citadel, a fortifiedangular structure standing detached. A large and brillianttricolor flag is waving indolently from a staff on the summit.The Bay of Biscay, into which the Adour flows, is seen on theleft horizon as a level line.The stillness observed by the soldiery of both armies, and byeverything else in the scene except the flag, is at last brokenby the firing of a signal-gun from a battery in the town-wall.The eyes of the thousands present rivet themselves on the citadel.Its waving tricolor moves down the flagstaff and disappears.]
THE REGIMENTS [unconsciously]Ha-a-a-a![In a few seconds there shoots up the same staff another flag—oneintended to be white; but having apparently been folded away a longtime, it is mildewed and dingy.From all the guns on the city fortifications a salute peals out.This is responded to by the English infantry and artillery with afeu-de-joie.]
THE REGIMENTSHurrah-h-h-h![The various battalions are then marched away in their respectivedirections and dismissed to their tents. The Bourbon standard ishoisted everywhere beside those of England, Spain, and Portugal.The scene shuts.]
A HIGHWAY IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF AVIGNON[The Rhone, the old city walls, the Rocher des Doms and itsedifices, appear at the back plane of the scene under thegrey light of dawn. In the foreground several postillionsand ostlers with relays of horses are waiting by the roadside,gazing northward and listening for sounds. A few loungershave assembled.]
FIRST POSTILLIONHe ought to be nigh by this time. I should say he’d be very gladto get this here Isle of Elba, wherever it may be, if words be truethat he’s treated to such ghastly compliments on’s way!
SECOND POSTILLIONBlast-me-blue, I don’t care what happens to him! Look at JoachimMurat, him that’s made King of Naples; a man who was only in thesame line of life as ourselves, born and bred in Cahors, out inPerigord, a poor little whindling place not half as good as ourown. Why should he have been lifted up to king’s anointment, andwe not even have had a rise in wages? That’s what I say.
FIRST POSTILLIONBut now, I don’t find fault with that dispensation in particular.It was one of our calling that the Emperor so honoured, after all,when he might have anointed a tinker, or a ragman, or a streetwoman’s pensioner even. Who knows but that we should have beenking’s too, but for my crooked legs and your running pole-wound?
SECOND POSTILLIONWe kings? Kings of the underground country, then, by this time, ifwe hadn’t been too rotten-fleshed to follow the drum. However, I’llthink over your defence, and I don’t mind riding a stage with him,for that matter, to save him from them that mean mischief here.I’ve lost no sons by his battles, like some others we know.[Enter a TRAVELLER on horseback.]Any tidings along the road, sir of the Emperor Napoléon that was?
TRAVELLERTidings verily! He and his escort are threatened by the mob atevery place they come to. A returning courier I have met tells methat at an inn a little way beyond here they have strung up hiseffigy to the sign-post, smeared it with blood, and placarded it“The Doom that awaits Thee!” He is much delayed by such humorousinsults. I have hastened ahead to escape the uproar.
SECOND POSTILLIONI don’t know that you have escaped it. The mob has been waitingup all night for him here.
MARKET-WOMAN [coming up]I hope by the Virgin, as ’a called herself, that there’ll be noriots here! Though I have not much pity for a man who could treathis wife as he did, and that’s my real feeling. He might at leasthave kept them both on, for half a husband is better than none forpoor women. But I’d show mercy to him, that’s true, rather thanhave my stall upset, and messes in the streets wi’ folks’ brains,and stabbings, and I don’t know what all!
FIRST POSTILLIONIf we can do the horsing quietly out here, there will be none ofthat. He’ll dash past the town without stopping at the inn wherethey expect to waylay him.—Hark, what’s this coming?[An approaching cortege is heard. Two couriers enter; then acarriage with NAPOLÉON and BERTRAND; then others with theCommissioners of the Powers,—all on the way to Elba.The carriages halt, and the change of horses is set about instantly.But before it is half completed BONAPARTE’S arrival gets known, andthrongs of men and women armed with sticks and hammers rush out ofAvignon and surround the carriages.]
POPULACEOgre of Corsica! Odious tyrant! Down with Nicholas!
BERTRAND [looking out of carriage]Silence, and doff your hats, you ill-mannered devils!
POPULACE [scornfully]Listen to him! Is that the Corsican? No; where is he? Give him up;give him up! We’ll pitch him into the Rhone![Some cling to the wheels of NAPOLÉON’S carriage, while others,more distant, throw stones at it. A stone breaks the carriagewindow.]
OLD WOMAN [shaking her fist]Give me back my two sons, murderer! Give me back my children, whoseflesh is rotting on the Russian plains!
POPULACEAy; give us back our kin—our fathers, our brothers, our sons—victims to your curst ambition![One of the mob seizes the carriage door-handle and tries tounfasten it. A valet of BONAPARTE’S seated on the box draws hissword and threatens to cut the man’s arm off. The doors of theCommissioners’ coaches open, and SIR NEIL CAMPBELL, GENERALKOLLER, and COUNT SCHUVALOFF—The English, Austrian, and RussianCommissioners—jump out and come forward.]
CAMPBELLKeep order, citizens! Do you not knowThat the ex-Emperor is wayfaringTo a lone isle, in the Allies’ sworn care,Who have given a pledge to Europe for his safety?His fangs being drawn, he is left powerless nowTo do you further harm.
SCHUVALOFFPeople of FranceCan you insult so miserable a being?He who gave laws to a cowed world stands nowAt that world’s beck, and asks its charity.Cannot you see that merely to ignore himIs the worst ignominy to tar him with,By showing him he’s no longer dangerous?
OLD WOMANHow do we know the villain mayn’t come back?While there is life, my faith, there’s mischief in him![Enter an officer with the Town-guard.]
OFFICERCitizens, I am a zealot for the Bourbons,As you well know. But wanton breach of faithI will not brook. Retire![The soldiers drive back the mob and open a passage forward. TheCommissioners re-enter their carriages. NAPOLÉON puts his headout of his window for a moment. He is haggard, shabbily dressed,yellow-faced, and wild-eyed.]
NAPOLÉONI thank you, captain;Also your soldiery: a thousand thanks![To Bertrand within] My God, these people of Avignon hereAre headstrong fools, like all the Provencal fold,—I won’t go through the town!
BERTRANDWe’ll round it, sire;And then, as soon as we get past the place,You must disguise for the remainder miles.
NAPOLÉONI’ll mount the white cockade if they invite me!What does it matter if I do or don’t?In Europe all is past and over with me....Yes—all is lost in Europe for me now!
BERTRANDI fear so, sire.
NAPOLÉON [after some moments]But Asia waits a man,And—who can tell?
OFFICER OF GUARD [to postillions]Ahead now at full speed,And slacken not till you have slipped the town.[The postillions urge the horses to a gallop, and the carriagesare out of sight in a few seconds. The scene shuts.]
MALMAISON. THE EMPRESS JOSÉPHINE’S BEDCHAMBER[The walls are in white panels, with gilt mouldings, and thefurniture is upholstered in white silk with needle-worked flowers.The long windows and the bed are similarly draped, and the toiletservice is of gold. Through the panes appears a broad flat lawnadorned with vases and figures on pedestals, and entirelysurrounded by trees—just now in their first fresh green underthe morning rays of Whitsunday. The notes of an organ are audiblefrom a chapel below, where the Pentecostal Mass is proceeding.JOSÉPHINE lies in the bed in an advanced stage of illness, theABBÉ BERTRAND standing beside her. Two ladies-in-waiting areseated near. By the door into the ante-room, which is ajar,HOREAU the physician-in-ordinary and BOURDOIS the consultingphysician are engaged in a low conversation.]
HOREAULamoureux says that leeches would have saved herHad they been used in time, before I came.In that case, then, why did he wait for me?
BOURDOISSuch whys are now too late! She is past all hope.I doubt if aught had helped her. Not disease,But heart-break and repinings are the blastsThat wither her long bloom. Soon we must tellThe Queen Hortense the worst, and the Viceroy.
HOREAUHer death was made the easier task for grief[As I regarded more than probable]By her rash rising from a sore-sick bedAnd donning thin and dainty May attireTo hail King Frederick-William and the TsarAs banquet-guests, in the old regnant style.A woman’s innocent vanity!—but how dire.She argued that amenities of StateCompelled the effort, since they had honoured herBy offering to come. I stood against it,Pleaded and reasoned, but to no account.Poor woman, what she did or did not doWas of small moment to the State by then!The Emperor Alexander has been kindThroughout his stay in Paris. He came downBut yester-eve, of purpose to inquire.
BOURDOISWellington is in Paris, too, I learn,After his wasted battle at Toulouse.
HOREAUHas his Peninsular army come with him?
BOURDOISI hear they have shipped it to America,Where England has another war on hand.We have armies quite sufficient here already—Plenty of cooks for Paris broth just now!—Come, call we Queen Hortense and Prince Eugène.[Exeunt physicians. The ABBÉ BERTRAND also goes out. JOSÉPHINEmurmurs faintly.]
FIRST LADY [going to the bedside]I think I heard you speak, your Majesty?
JOSÉPHINEI asked what hour it was—-if dawn or eve?
FIRST LADYTen in the morning, Madame. You forgetYou asked the same but a brief while ago.
JOSÉPHINEDid I? I thought it was so long ago!...I wish to go to Elba with him so much,But the Allies prevented me. And why?I would not have disgraced him, or themselves!I would have gone to him at Fontainebleau,With my eight horses and my household trainIn dignity, and quitted him no more....Although I am his wife no longer now,I think I should have gone in spite of them,Had I not feared perversions might be sownBetween him and the woman of his choiceFor whom he sacrificed me.
SECOND LADYIt is moreThan she thought fit to do, your Majesty.
JOSÉPHINEPerhaps she was influenced by her father’s ire,Or diplomatic reasons told against her.And yet I was surprised she should allowAught secondary on earth to hold her fromA husband she has outwardly, at least,Declared attachment to.
FIRST LADYEspecially,With ever one at hand—his son and hers—Reminding her of him.
JOSÉPHINEYes.... Glad am II saw that child of theirs, though only once.But—there was not full truth—not quite, I fear—In what I told the Emperor that dayHe led him to me at Bagatelle,That ’twas the happiest moment of my life.I ought not to have said it. No! ForsoothMy feeling had too, too much gall in itTo let truth shape like that!—I also saidThat when my arms were round him I forgotThat I was not his mother. So spoke I,But oh me,—I remembered it too well!—He was a lovely child; in his fond prateHis father’s voice was eloquent. One might sayI am well punished for my sins against him!
SECOND LADYYou have harmed no creature, madame; much less him!
JOSÉPHINEO but you don’t quite know!... My coquetriesIn our first married years nigh racked him through.I cannot think how I could wax so wicked!...He begged me come to him in Italy,But I liked flirting in fair Paris best,And would not go. The independent spouseAt that time was myself; but afterwardsI grew to be the captive, he the free.Always ’tis so: the man wins finally!My faults I’ve ransomed to the bottom souIf ever a woman did!... I’ll write to him—I must—again, so that he understands.Yes, I’ll write now. Get me a pen and paper.
FIRST LADY [to Second Lady]’Tis futile! She is too far gone to write;But we must humour her.[They fetch writing materials. On returning to the bed they findher motionless. Enter EUGÈNE and QUEEN HORTENSE. Seeing the statetheir mother is in, they fall down on their knees by her bed.JOSÉPHINE recognizes them and smiles. Anon she is able to speakagain.]
JOSÉPHINE [faintly]I am dying, dears;And do not mind it—notwithstanding thatI feel I die regretted. You both love me!—And as for France, I ever have desiredHer welfare, as you know—have wrought all thingsA woman’s scope could reach to forward it....And to you now who watch my ebbing here,Declare I that Napoléon’s first-chose wifeHas never caused her land a needless tear.Tell him—these things I have said—bear him my love—Tell him—I could not write![An interval. She spasmodically flings her arms over her son anddaughter, lets them fall, and becomes unconscious. They fetch alooking-glass, and find that her breathing has ceased. The clockof the Chateau strikes noon. The scene is veiled.]
LONDON. THE OPERA HOUSE[The house is lighted up with a blaze of wax candles, and a Stateperformance is about to begin in honour of the Allied sovereignsnow on a visit to England to celebrate the Peace. Peace-devicesadorn the theatre. A band can be heard in the street playing“The White Cockade.”An extended Royal box has been formed by removing the partitionsof adjoining boxes. It is empty as yet, but the other parts ofthe house are crowded to excess, and somewhat disorderly, theinterior doors having been broken down by besiegers, and manypeople having obtained admission without payment. The prevalentcostume of the ladies is white satin and diamonds, with a few inlilac.The curtain rises on the first act of the opera of “Aristodemo,”MADAME GRASSINI and SIGNOR TRAMEZZINI being the leading voices.Scarcely a note of the performance can be heard amid the exclamationsof persons half suffocated by the pressure.At the end of the first act there follows a divertissement. Thecurtain having fallen, a silence of expectation succeeds. It isa little past ten o’clock.Enter the Royal box the PRINCE REGENT, accompanied by the EMPEROROF RUSSIA, demonstrative in manner now as always, the KING OFPRUSSIA, with his mien of reserve, and many minor ROYAL PERSONAGESof Europe. There are moderate acclamations. At their back and inneighbouring boxes LORD LIVERPOOL, LORD CASTLEREAGH, officers inthe suite of the sovereigns, interpreters, and others take theirplaces.The curtain rises again, and the performers are discovered drawnup in line on the stage. They sing “God save the King.” Thesovereigns stand up, bow, and resume their seats amid moreapplause.]
A VOICE [from the gallery]Prinny, where’s your wife? [Confusion.]
EMPEROR OF RUSSIA [to Regent]To which of us is the inquiry addressed, Prince?
PRINCE REGENTTo you, sire, depend upon’t—by way of compliment.[The second act of the Opera proceeds.]
EMPEROR OF RUSSIAAny later news from Elba, sir?
PRINCE REGENTNothing more than rumours, which, ’pon my honour, I can hardlycredit. One is that Bonaparte’s valet has written to say theex-Emperor is becoming imbecile, and is an object of ridicule tothe inhabitants of the island.
KING OF PRUSSIAA blessed result, sir, if true. If he is not imbecile he is worse—planning how to involve Europe in another way. It was a short-sighted policy to offer him a home so near as to ensure its becominga hot-bed of intrigue and conspiracy in no long time!
PRINCE REGENTThe ex-Empress, Marie-Louise, hasn’t joined him after all, I learn.Has she remained at Schonbrunn since leaving France, sires?
EMPEROR OF RUSSIAYes, sir; with her son. She must never go back to France. Metternichand her father will know better than let her do that. Poor youngthing, I am sorry for her all the same. She would have joinedNapoléon if she had been left to herself.—And I was sorry for theother wife, too. I called at Malmaison a few days before she died.A charming woman! SHE would have gone to Elba or to the devil withhim. Twenty thousand people crowded down from Paris to see her lyingin state last week.
PRINCE REGENTPity she didn’t have a child by him, by God.
KING OF PRUSSIAI don’t think the other one’s child is going to trouble us much.But I wish Bonaparte himself had been sent farther away.
PRINCE REGENTSome of our Government wanted to pack him off to St. Helena—anisland somewhere in the Atlantic, or Pacific, or Great South Sea.But they were over-ruled. ’Twould have been a surer game.
EMPEROR OF RUSSIAOne hears strange stories of his saying and doings. Some of mypeople were telling me to-day that he says it is to Austria thathe really owes his fall, and that he ought to have destroyed herwhen he had her in his power.
PRINCE REGENTDammy, sire, don’t ye think he owes his fall to his ambition tohumble England by rupture of the Peace of Amiens, and trying toinvade us, and wasting his strength against us in the Peninsula?
EMPEROR OF RUSSIAI incline to think, with the greatest deference, that it was Moscowthat broke him.
KING OF PRUSSIAThe rejection of my conditions in the terms of peace at Prague, sires,was the turning-point towards his downfall.[Enter a box on the opposite side of the house the PRINCESS OFWALES, attended by LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL, SIR W. GELL, andothers. Louder applause now rings through the theatre, drowningthe sweet voice of the GRASSINI in “Aristodemo.”]
LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELLIt is meant for your Royal Highness!
PRINCESS OF WALESI don’t think so, my dear. Punch’s wife is nobody when Punch himselfis present.
LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELLI feel convinced that it is by their looking this way.
SIR W. GELLSurely ma’am you will acknowledge their affection? Otherwise we maybe hissed.
PRINCESS OF WALESI know my business better than to take that morsel out of my husband’smouth. There—you see he enjoys it! I cannot assume that it ismeant for me unless they call my name.[The PRINCE REGENT rises and bows, the TSAR and the KING OF PRUSSIAdoing the same.]
LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELLHe and the others are bowing for you, ma’am!
PRINCESS OF WALESMine God, then; I will bow too! [She rises and bends to them.]
PRINCE REGENTShe thinks we rose on her account.—A damn fool. [Aside.]
EMPEROR OF RUSSIAWhat—didn’t we? I certainly rose in homage to her.
PRINCE REGENTNo, sire. We were supposed to rise to the repeated applause of thepeople.
EMPEROR OF RUSSIAH’m. Your customs sir, are a little puzzling.... [To the King ofPrussia.] A fine-looking woman! I must call upon the Princess ofWales to-morrow.
KING OF PRUSSIAI shall, at any rate, send her my respects by my chamberlain.
PRINCE REGENT [stepping back to Lord Liverpool]By God, Liverpool, we must do something to stop ’em! They don’tknow what a laughing-stock they’ll make of me if they go to her.Tell ’em they had better not.
LIVERPOOLI can hardly tell them now, sir, while we are celebrating the Peaceand Wellington’s victories.
PRINCE REGENTOh, damn the peace, and damn the war, and damn Boney, and damnWellington’s victories!—the question is, how am I to get over thisinfernal woman!—Well, well,—I must write, or send Tyrwhitt to-morrow morning, begging them to abandon the idea of visiting herfor politic reasons.[The Opera proceeds to the end, and is followed by a hymn andchorus laudatory to peace. Next a new ballet by MONSIEUR VESTRIS,in which M. ROZIER and MADAME ANGIOLINI dance a pas-de-deux. Thenthe Sovereigns leave the theatre amid more applause.The pit and gallery now call for the PRINCESS OF WALES unmistakably.She stand up and is warmly acclaimed, returning three statelycurtseys.]
A VOICEShall we burn down Carlton House, my dear, and him in it?
PRINCESS OF WALESNo, my good folks! Be quiet. Go home to your beds, and let me dothe same.[After some difficulty she gets out of the house. The people thinaway. As the candle-snuffers extinguish the lights a shouting isheard without.]
VOICES OF CROWDLong life to the Princess of Wales! Three cheers for a woman wronged![The Opera-house becomes lost in darkness.]