The Dynasts

Act Fourth

SCENE I

THE UPPER RHINE

[The view is from a vague altitude over the beautiful country

traversed by the Upper Rhine, which stretches through it in

birds-eye perspective. At this date in Europe's history the

stream forms the frontier between France and Germany.

It is the morning of New Year's Day, and the shine of the tardy

sun reaches the fronts of the beetling castles, but scarcely

descends far enough to touch the wavelets of the river winding

leftwards across the many-leagued picture from Schaffhausen to

Coblenz.]

DUMB SHOW

At first nothing--not even the river itself--seems to move in the

panorama. 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 conspicuous

herefrom, and that is an army. The moving shapes are armies.

The nearest, almost beneath us, is defiling across the river by a

bridge of boats, near the junction of the Rhine and the Neckar,

where the oval town of Mannheim, standing in the fork between the

two rivers, has from here the look of a human head in a cleft

stick. Martial music from many bands strikes up as the crossing

is effected, and the undulating columns twinkle as if they were

scaly serpents.

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

It 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 RUMOUR

Thither the Prussian levies, too, advance!

Turning now to the right, far away by Basel (beyond which the

Swiss 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 mass

of greyness and glitter is beheld parting into six columns, that

march on in flexuous courses of varying direction.

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

There 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 sure

degrees, advance without opposition. They glide on as if by

gravitation, in fluid figures, dictated by the conformation of

the 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 were

happening.

Evening closes in, and the Dumb Show is obscured.

SCENE II

PARIS. THE TUILERIES

[It is Sunday just after mass, and the principal officers of the

National Guard are assembled in the Salle des Marechaux. They

stand in an attitude of suspense, some with the print of sadness

on their faces, some with that of perplexity.

The door leading from the Hall to the adjoining chapel is thrown

open. There enter from the chapel with the last notes of the

service the EMPEROR NAPOLEON and the EMPRESS; and simultaneously

from a door opposite MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, the governess, who

carries in her arms the KING OF ROME, now a fair child between

two and three. He is clothed in a miniature uniform of the

Guards themselves.

MADAM DE MONTESQUIOU brings forward the child and sets him on his

feet near his mother. NAPOLEON, with a mournful smile, giving one

hand to the boy and the other to MARIE LOUISE, _en famille_, leads

them forward. The Guard bursts into cheers.]

NAPOLEON

Gentlemen of the National Guard and friends,

I have to leave you; and before I fare

To Heaven know what of personal destiny,

I give into your loyal guardianship

Those 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 foes

Who 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 sit

Than you, or yours, on the great throne of France.

NAPOLEON

I ratify the Empress' regency,

And re-confirm it on last year's lines,

My bother Joseph stoutening her rule

As the Lieutenant-General of the State.--

Vex her with no divisions; let regard

For property, for order, and for France

Be chief with all. Know, gentlemen, the Allies

Are drunken with success. Their late advantage

They 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 despite

Of 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 force

Against our puissance under Prince Eugene.

The varied operations to ensue

May bring the enemy largely Paris-wards;

But suffer no alarm; before long days

I will annihilate by flank and rear

Those 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 you

My son and my successor ere I go.

[He takes the child in his arms and carries him round to the

officers severally. They are much affected and raise loud

cheers.]

You stand by him and her? You swear as much?

OFFICERS

We do!

NAPOLEON

This you repeat--you promise it?

OFFICERS

We promise. May the dynasty live for ever!

[Their shouts, which spread to the Carrousel without, are echoed

by the soldiers of the Guard assembled there. The EMPRESS is now

in tears, and the EMPEROR supports her.]

MARIE LOUISE

Such whole enthusiasm I have never known!--

Not even from the Landwehr of Vienna.

[Amid repeated protestations and farewells NAPOLEON, the EMPRESS,

the KING OF ROME, MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, etc. go out in one

direction, 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 atmosphere

chilly. The January night-wind howls without. Two servants enter

hastily, and light candles and a fire. The hands of the clock are

pointing to three.

The room is hardly in order when the EMPEROR enters, equipped for

the intended journey; and with him, his left arm being round her

waist, walks MARIE LOUISE in a dressing-gown. On his right arm

he 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 embraces

the EMPRESS, who is tearful, the child weeping likewise. NAPOLEON

takes the papers to the fire, thrusts them in, and watches them

consume; then burns other bundles brought by his attendants.]

NAPOLEON (gloomily)

Better to treat them thus; since no one knows

What comes, or into whose hands he may fall!

MARIE LOUISE

I have an apprehension-unexplained--

That I shall never see you any more!

NAPOLEON

Dismiss 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 though

The sun were due and you were trusting to it:

'Twill teach the world it wrongs in bringing them.

[They embrace finally. Exeunt NAPOLEON, etc. Afterwards MARIE

LOUISE and the child.]

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Her instinct forwardly is keen in cast,

And yet how limited. True it may be

They never more will meet; although--to use

The bounded prophecy I am dowered with--

The screen that will maintain their severance

Would pass her own believing; proving it

No gaol-grille, no scath of scorching war,

But this persuasion, pressing on her pulse

To breed aloofness and a mind averse;

Until his image in her soul will shape

Dwarfed 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 III

THE SAME. THE APARTMENTS OF THE EMPRESS

[A March morning, verging on seven o'clock, throws its cheerless

stare into the private drawing-room of MARIE LOUISE, animating

the gilt furniture to only a feeble shine. Two chamberlains of

the palace are there in waiting. They look from the windows and

yawn.]

FIRST CHAMBERLAIN

Here's a watering for spring hopes! Who would have supposed when

the Emperor left, and appointed her Regent, that she and the Regency

too would have to scurry after in so short a time!

SECOND CHAMBERLAIN

Was a course decided on last night?

FIRST CHAMBERLAIN

Yes. The Privy Council sat till long past midnight, debating the

burning question whether she and the child should remain or not.

Some were one way, some the other. She settled the matter by saying

she would go.

SECOND CHAMBERLAIN

I thought it might come to that. I heard the alarm beating all night

to assemble the National Guard; and I am told that some volunteers

have 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 is

heard outside the palace. MENEVAL enters, and divers officers

of the household; then from her bedroom at the other end MARIE

LOUISE, 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 COUNTESS

DE MONTESQUIOU, ladies of the palace, and others, all in travelling

trim.]

KING OF ROME (plaintively)

Why are we doing these strange things, mamma,

And what did we get up so early for?

MARIE LOUISE

I cannot, dear, explain. So many events

Enlarge and make so many hours of one,

That it would be too hard to tell them now.

KING OF ROME

But you know why we a setting out like this?

Is it because we fear our enemies?

MARIE LOUISE

We 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 the

assembled 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 LOUISE

Run, 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 rooms

With working white cockades these several days.--

Yes--I must go!

DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO

But why yet, Empress dear?

We may soon gain good news; some messenger

Hie from the Emperor or King Joseph hither?

MARIE LOUISE

King Joseph I await. He's gone to eye

The 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 the

door.]

Ah, here he comes;

Now we shall know!

[Enter precipitately not Joseph but officers of the National Guard

and others.]

OFFICERS

Long 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 son

Blanched at the bottom of the smothering Seine

Than in the talons of the foes of France.--

To keep us sure from such, then, he ordained

Our swift withdrawal with the Ministers

Towards the Loire, if enemies advanced

In 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 by

the young KING and some of her ladies. There is a painful silence,

broken by sobbings and expostulations within. Re-enter one of the

ladies.]

LADY

She's sorely overthrown;

She flings herself upon the bed distraught.

She says, "My God, let them make up their minds

To one or other of these harrowing ills,

And force to't, and end my agony!"

[An official enters at the main door.]

OFFICIAL

I am sent here by the Minister of War

To her Imperial Majesty the Empress.

[Re-enter MARIE LOUISE and the KING OF ROME.]

Your Majesty, my mission is to say

Imperious need dictates your instant flight.

A vanward regiment of the Prussian packs

Has gained the shadow of the city walls.

MENEVAL

They are armed Europe's scouts!

[Enter CAMBACERES the Arch-Chancellor, COUNT BEAUHARNAIS, CORVISART

the physician, DE BAUSSET, DE CANISY the equerry, and others.]

CAMBACERES

Your Majesty,

There's not a trice to lose. The force well-nigh

Of all compacted Europe crowds on us,

And clamours at the walls!

BEAUHARNAIS

If you stay longer,

You stay to fall into the Cossacks hands.

The people, too, are waxing masterful:

They think the lingering of your Majesty

Makes Paris more a peril for themselves

Than a defence for you. To fight is fruitless,

And wanton waste of life. You have nought to do

But go; and I, and all the Councillors,

Will follow you.

MARIE LOUISE

Then I was right to say

That 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 and

others.]

DE CANISY

Come now, Monseigneur, come.

[He catches up the boy in his arms and prepares to follow the

Empress.]

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 the

equerry is bearing him through it.)

DE CANISY

But you must go.

[The child's fingers are pulled away. Exit DE CANISY with the King

OF ROME, who is heard screaming as he is carried down the staircase.]

MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU

I 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, and

the room is left empty. Enter servants hastily.]

FIRST SERVANT

Sacred God, where are we to go to for grub and good lying to-night?

What are ill-used men to do?

SECOND SERVANT

I trudge like the rest. All the true philosophers are gone, and the

middling true are going. I made up my mind like the truest that ever

was as soon as I heard the general alarm beat.

THIRD SERVANT

I stay here. No Allies are going to tickle our skins. The storm

which roots--Dost know what a metaphor is, comrade? I brim with

them at this historic time!

SECOND SERVANT

A weapon of war used by the Cossacks?

THIRD SERVANT

Your imagination will be your ruin some day, my man! It happens to

be a weapon of wisdom used by me. My metaphor is one may'st have

met with on the rare times when th'hast been in good society. Here

it is: The storm which roots the pine spares the p--s--b--d. Now

do you see?

FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTS

Good! Your teaching, friend, is as sound as true religion! We'll

not go. Hearken to what's doing outside. (Carriages are heard

moving. Servants go to the window and look down.) Lord, there's

the Duchess getting in. Now the Mistress of the Wardrobe; now the

Ladies of the Palace; now the Prefects; now the Doctors. What a

time it takes! There are near a dozen berlines, as I am a patriot!

Those other carriages bear treasure. How quiet the people are! It

is like a funeral procession. Not a tongue cheers her!

THIRD SERVANT

Now there will be a nice convenient time for a little good victuals

and drink, and likewise pickings, before the Allies arrive, thank

Mother Molly!

[From a distant part of the city bands are heard playing military

marches. Guns next resound. Another servant rushes in.]

FOURTH SERVANT

Montmartre is being stormed, and bombs are falling in the Chaussee

d'Antin!

[Exit fourth servant.]

THIRD SERVANT (pulling something from his hat)

Then it is time for me to gird my armour on.

SECOND SERVANT

What hast there?

[Third servant holds up a crumpled white cockade and sticks it in

his hair. The firing gets louder.]

FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTS

Hast got another?

THIRD SERVANT (pulling out more)

Ay--here they are; at a price.

[The others purchase cockades of third servant. A military march

is again heard. Re-enter fourth servant.]

FOURTH SERVANT

The city has capitulated! The Allied sovereigns, so it is said,

will enter in grand procession to-morrow: the Prussian cavalry

first, then the Austrian foot, then the Russian and Prussian foot,

then the Russian horse and artillery. And to cap all, the people

of Paris are glad of the change. They have put a rope round the

neck of the statue of Napoleon on the column of the Grand Army, and

are amusing themselves with twitching it and crying "Strangle the

Tyrant!"

SECOND SERVANT

Well, well! There's rich colours in this kaleidoscopic world!

THIRD SERVANT

And 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 SERVANT

My faith, I think I'll turn Englishman in my older years, where

there's not these trying changes in the Constitution!

[Follows the others. The Allies military march waxes louder as

the scene shuts.]

SCENE IV

FONTAINEBLEAU. A ROOM IN THE PALACE

[NAPOLEON is discovered walking impatiently up and down, and

glancing at the clock every few minutes. Enter NEY.]

NAPOLEON (without a greeting)

Well--the result? Ah, but your looks display

A leaden dawning to the light you bring!

What--not a regency? What--not the Empress

To hold it in trusteeship for my son?

NEY

Sire, things like revolutions turn back,

But go straight on. Imperial governance

Is coffined for your family and yourself!

It is declared that military repose,

And France's well-doing, demand of you

Your abdication--unconditioned, sheer.

This verdict of the sovereigns cannot change,

And I have pushed on hot to let you know.

NAPOLEON (with repression)

I am obliged to you. You have told me promptly!--

This was to be expected. I had learnt

Of Marmont's late defection, and the Sixth's;

The consequence I easily inferred.

NEY

The Paris folk are flaked with white cockades;

Tricolors choke the kennels. Rapturously

They clamour for the Bourbons and for peace.

NAPOLEON (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 mood

Asked no deep reasoning for its geniture.

NAPOLEON

I have no remarks to make on that just now.

I'll think the matter over. You shall know

By noon to-morrow my definitive.

NEY (turning to go)

I trust my saying what had to be said

Has not affronted you?

NAPOLEON (bitterly)

No; but your haste

In doing it has galled me, and has shown me

A heart that heaves no longer in my cause!

The skilled coquetting of the Government

Has 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?

CAULAINCOURT

We thought at first

We 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 risk

The Empress; loss of every dignity,

And magnified misfortunes thrown on France.

NAPOLEON

I have heard it all; and don't agree with you.

My assets are not quite so beggarly

That I must close in such a shameful bond!

What--do you rate as naught that I am yet

Full fifty thousand strong, with Augereau,

And Soult, and Suchet true, and many more?

I still may know to play the Imperial game

As 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!

CAULAINCOURT

Sire, you have not the generals you suppose.

MACDONALD

And if you had, the mere anatomy

Of a real army, sire, that's left to you,

Must yield the war. A bad example tells.

NAPOLEON

Ah--from your manner it is worse, I see,

Than I cognize! . . . O Marmont, Marmont,--yours,

Yours was the bad sad lead!--I treated him

As 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 shows

That even he inclines to Bourbonry.--

I faint to leave France thus--curtailed, pared down

From her late spacious borders. Of the whole

This 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 drawing

up a paper. BERTRAND and NEY enter; and behind them are seen

through the doorway the faces of CONSTANT the valet, ROUSTAN the

Mameluke, and other servants. All wait in silence till the EMPEROR

has done writing. He turns in his seat without looking up.]

NAPOLEON (reading)

"It having been declared by the Allies

That the prime obstacle to Europe's peace

Is France's empery by Napoleon,

This ruler, faithful to his oath of old,

Renounces for himself and for his heirs

The 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 Tuileries

Who call themselves the Government of France!

Caulaincourt, go to Paris as before,

Ney and Macdonald too, and hand in this

To Alexander, and to him alone.

[He gives the document, and bids them adieu almost without speech.

The marshals and others go out. NAPOLEON continues sitting with

his chin on his chest.

An interval of silence. There is then heard in the corridor a

sound of whetting. Enter ROUSTAN the Mameluke, with a whetstone

in his belt and a sword in his hand.]

ROUSTAN

After this fall, your Majesty, 'tis plain

You will not choose to live; and knowing this

I bring to you my sword.

NAPOLEON (with a nod)

I see you do, Roustan.

ROUSTAN

Will you, sire, use it on yourself,

Or shall I pass it through you?

NAPOLEON (coldly)

Neither plan

Is quite expedient for the moment, man.

ROUSTAN

Neither?

NAPOLEON

There may be, in some suited time,

Some cleaner means of carrying out such work.

ROUSTAN

Sire, you refuse? Can you support vile life

A moment on such terms? Why then, I pray,

Dispatch me with the weapon, or dismiss me.

(He holds the sword to NAPOLEON, who shakes his head.)

I live no longer under such disgrace!

[Exit ROUSTAN haughtily. NAPOLEON vents a sardonic laugh, and

throws himself on a sofa, where he by and by falls asleep. The

door is softly opened. ROUSTAN and CONSTANT peep in.]

CONSTANT

To-night would be as good a time to go as any. He will sleep there

for hours. I have my few francs safe, and I deserve them; for I have

stuck to him honourably through fourteen trying years.

ROUSTAN

How many francs have you secured?

CONSTANT

Well--more than you can count in one breath, or even two.

ROUSTAN

Where?

CONSTANT

In a hollow tree in the Forest. And as for YOUR reward, you can

easily get the keys of that cabinet, where there are more than

enough francs to equal mine. He will not have them, and you may

as well take them as strangers.

ROUSTAN

It is not money that I want, but honour. I leave, because I can

no longer stay with self-respect.

CONSTANT

And 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.

ROUSTAN

Well, as you propose going this evening I will go with you, to lend

a symmetry to the drama of our departure. Would that I had served

a more sensitive master! He sleeps there quite indifferent to the

dishonour of remaining alive!

[NAPOLEON shows signs of waking. CONSTANT and ROUSTAN disappear.

NAPOLEON slowly sits up.]

NAPOLEON

Here 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 rats

Desert the ship that's doomed. By morrow-dawn

I shall not have a man to shake my bed

Or say good-morning to!

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Herein behold

How heavily grinds the Will upon his brain,

His halting hand, and his unlighted eye.

SPIRIT IRONIC

A picture this for kings and subjects too!

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Yet is it but Napoleon who has failed.

The pale pathetic peoples still plod on

Through hoodwinkings to light!

NAPOLEON (rousing himself)

This now must close.

Roustan misunderstood me, though his hint

Serves as a fillip to a flaccid brain. . . .

--How gild the sunset sky of majesty

Better than by the act esteemed of yore?

Plutarchian heroes outstayed not their fame,

And what nor Brutus nor Themistocles

Nor 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, pours

from it a liquid into a glass, and drinks. He then lies down and

falls asleep again.

Re-enter CONSTANT softly with a bunch of keys in his hand. On

his way to the cabinet he turns and looks at NAPOLEON. Seeing

the glass and a strangeness in the EMPEROR, he abandons his

object, 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?

NAPOLEON (with difficulty)

Why did you interfere!--But it is well;

Call Caulaincourt. I'd speak with him a trice

Before I pass.

[MARET hurries out. Enter IVAN the physician, and presently

CAULAINCOURT.]

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. CAULAINCOURT

seizes NAPOLEON'S hand.]

CAULAINCOURT

Why should you bring this cloud upon us now!

NAPOLEON

Restrain 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.)

CAULAINCOURT

He's saved--for good or ill-as may betide!

NAPOLEON

God--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 from

MARIE LOUISE. NAPOLEON 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 chronicling

In stately words that stir futurity

The might of our unmatched accomplishments;

And in the tale immortalize your names

By linking them with mine.

[He soon falls into a convalescent sleep. The marshals, etc. go

out. The room is left in darkness.]

SCENE V

BAYONNE. THE BRITISH CAMP

[The foreground is an elevated stretch of land, dotted over in rows

with the tents of the peninsular army. On a parade immediately

beyond the tents the infantry are drawn up, awaiting something.

Still farther back, behind a brook, are the French soldiery, also

ranked in the same manner of reposeful expectation. In the middle-

distance we see the town of Bayonne, standing within its zigzag

fortifications at the junction of the river Adour with the Nive.

On the other side of the Adour rises the citadel, a fortified

angular structure standing detached. A large and brilliant

tricolor flag is waving indolently from a staff on the summit.

The Bay of Biscay, into which the Adour flows, is seen on the

left horizon as a level line.

The stillness observed by the soldiery of both armies, and by

everything else in the scene except the flag, is at last broken

by 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--one

intended to be white; but having apparently been folded away a long

time, 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 a

feu-de-joie.]

THE REGIMENTS

Hurrah-h-h-h!

[The various battalions are then marched away in their respective

directions and dismissed to their tents. The Bourbon standard is

hoisted everywhere beside those of England, Spain, and Portugal.

The scene shuts.]

SCENE VI

A HIGHWAY IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF AVIGNON

[The Rhone, the old city walls, the Rocher des Doms and its

edifices, appear at the back plane of the scene under the

grey light of dawn. In the foreground several postillions

and ostlers with relays of horses are waiting by the roadside,

gazing northward and listening for sounds. A few loungers

have assembled.]

FIRST POSTILLION

He ought to be nigh by this time. I should say he'd be very glad

to get this here Isle of Elba, wherever it may be, if words be true

that he's treated to such ghastly compliments on's way!

SECOND POSTILLION

Blast-me-blue, I don't care what happens to him! Look at Joachim

Murat, him that's made King of Naples; a man who was only in the

same line of life as ourselves, born and bred in Cahors, out in

Perigord, a poor little whindling place not half as good as our

own. Why should he have been lifted up to king's anointment, and

we not even have had a rise in wages? That's what I say.

FIRST POSTILLION

But 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 street

woman's pensioner even. Who knows but that we should have been

king's too, but for my crooked legs and your running pole-wound?

SECOND POSTILLION

We kings? Kings of the underground country, then, by this time, if

we hadn't been too rotten-fleshed to follow the drum. However, I'll

think 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 Napoleon that was?

TRAVELLER

Tidings verily! He and his escort are threatened by the mob at

every place they come to. A returning courier I have met tells me

that at an inn a little way beyond here they have strung up his

effigy to the sign-post, smeared it with blood, and placarded it

"The Doom that awaits Thee!" He is much delayed by such humorous

insults. I have hastened ahead to escape the uproar.

SECOND POSTILLION

I don't know that you have escaped it. The mob has been waiting

up all night for him here.

MARKET-WOMAN (coming up)

I hope by the Virgin, as 'a called herself, that there'll be no

riots here! Though I have not much pity for a man who could treat

his wife as he did, and that's my real feeling. He might at least

have kept them both on, for half a husband is better than none for

poor women. But I'd show mercy to him, that's true, rather than

have my stall upset, and messes in the streets wi' folks' brains,

and stabbings, and I don't know what all!

FIRST POSTILLION

If we can do the horsing quietly out here, there will be none of

that. He'll dash past the town without stopping at the inn where

they expect to waylay him.--Hark, what's this coming?

[An approaching cortege is heard. Two couriers enter; then a

carriage with NAPOLEON and BERTRAND; then others with the

Commissioners 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, and

throngs of men and women armed with sticks and hammers rush out of

Avignon and surround the carriages.]

POPULACE

Ogre 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 NAPOLEON'S carriage, while others,

more distant, throw stones at it. A stone breaks the carriage

window.]

OLD WOMAN (shaking her fist)

Give me back my two sons, murderer! Give me back my children, whose

flesh is rotting on the Russian plains!

POPULACE

Ay; 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 to

unfasten it. A valet of BONAPARTE'S seated on the box draws his

sword and threatens to cut the man's arm off. The doors of the

Commissioners' coaches open, and SIR NEIL CAMPBELL, GENERAL

KOLLER, and COUNT SCHUVALOFF--The English, Austrian, and Russian

Commissioners--jump out and come forward.]

CAMPBELL

Keep order, citizens! Do you not know

That the ex-Emperor is wayfaring

To 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 now

To do you further harm.

SCHUVALOFF

People of France

Can you insult so miserable a being?

He who gave laws to a cowed world stands now

At that world's beck, and asks its charity.

Cannot you see that merely to ignore him

Is the worst ignominy to tar him with,

By showing him he's no longer dangerous?

OLD WOMAN

How 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.]

OFFICER

Citizens, I am a zealot for the Bourbons,

As you well know. But wanton breach of faith

I will not brook. Retire!

[The soldiers drive back the mob and open a passage forward. The

Commissioners re-enter their carriages. NAPOLEON puts his head

out of his window for a moment. He is haggard, shabbily dressed,

yellow-faced, and wild-eyed.]

NAPOLEON

I thank you, captain;

Also your soldiery: a thousand thanks!

(To Bertrand within) My God, these people of Avignon here

Are headstrong fools, like all the Provencal fold,

--I won't go through the town!

BERTRAND

We'll round it, sire;

And then, as soon as we get past the place,

You must disguise for the remainder miles.

NAPOLEON

I'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!

BERTRAND

I fear so, sire.

NAPOLEON (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 carriages

are out of sight in a few seconds. The scene shuts.]

SCENE VII

MALMAISON. THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE'S BEDCHAMBER

[The walls are in white panels, with gilt mouldings, and the

furniture is upholstered in white silk with needle-worked flowers.

The long windows and the bed are similarly draped, and the toilet

service is of gold. Through the panes appears a broad flat lawn

adorned with vases and figures on pedestals, and entirely

surrounded by trees--just now in their first fresh green under

the morning rays of Whitsunday. The notes of an organ are audible

from a chapel below, where the Pentecostal Mass is proceeding.

JOSEPHINE lies in the bed in an advanced stage of illness, the

ABBE BERTRAND standing beside her. Two ladies-in-waiting are

seated near. By the door into the ante-room, which is ajar,

HOREAU the physician-in-ordinary and BOURDOIS the consulting

physician are engaged in a low conversation.]

HOREAU

Lamoureux says that leeches would have saved her

Had they been used in time, before I came.

In that case, then, why did he wait for me?

BOURDOIS

Such 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 blasts

That wither her long bloom. Soon we must tell

The Queen Hortense the worst, and the Viceroy.

HOREAU

Her death was made the easier task for grief

(As I regarded more than probable)

By her rash rising from a sore-sick bed

And donning thin and dainty May attire

To hail King Frederick-William and the Tsar

As banquet-guests, in the old regnant style.

A woman's innocent vanity!--but how dire.

She argued that amenities of State

Compelled the effort, since they had honoured her

By offering to come. I stood against it,

Pleaded and reasoned, but to no account.

Poor woman, what she did or did not do

Was of small moment to the State by then!

The Emperor Alexander has been kind

Throughout his stay in Paris. He came down

But yester-eve, of purpose to inquire.

BOURDOIS

Wellington is in Paris, too, I learn,

After his wasted battle at Toulouse.

HOREAU

Has his Peninsular army come with him?

BOURDOIS

I 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 Eugene.

[Exeunt physicians. The ABBE BERTRAND also goes out. JOSEPHINE

murmurs faintly.]

FIRST LADY (going to the bedside)

I think I heard you speak, your Majesty?

JOSEPHINE

I asked what hour it was---if dawn or eve?

FIRST LADY

Ten in the morning, Madame. You forget

You asked the same but a brief while ago.

JOSEPHINE

Did 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 train

In 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 sown

Between him and the woman of his choice

For whom he sacrificed me.

SECOND LADY

It is more

Than she thought fit to do, your Majesty.

JOSEPHINE

Perhaps she was influenced by her father's ire,

Or diplomatic reasons told against her.

And yet I was surprised she should allow

Aught secondary on earth to hold her from

A husband she has outwardly, at least,

Declared attachment to.

FIRST LADY

Especially,

With ever one at hand--his son and hers--

Reminding her of him.

JOSEPHINE

Yes. . . . Glad am I

I 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 day

He led him to me at Bagatelle,

That 'twas the happiest moment of my life.

I ought not to have said it. No! Forsooth

My feeling had too, too much gall in it

To let truth shape like that!--I also said

That when my arms were round him I forgot

That I was not his mother. So spoke I,

But oh me,--I remembered it too well!--

He was a lovely child; in his fond prate

His father's voice was eloquent. One might say

I am well punished for my sins against him!

SECOND LADY

You have harmed no creature, madame; much less him!

JOSEPHINE

O but you don't quite know! . . . My coquetries

In 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 spouse

At that time was myself; but afterwards

I grew to be the captive, he the free.

Always 'tis so: the man wins finally!

My faults I've ransomed to the bottom sou

If 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 find

her motionless. Enter EUGENE and QUEEN HORTENSE. Seeing the state

their mother is in, they fall down on their knees by her bed.

JOSEPHINE recognizes them and smiles. Anon she is able to speak

again.]

JOSEPHINE (faintly)

I am dying, dears;

And do not mind it--notwithstanding that

I feel I die regretted. You both love me!--

And as for France, I ever have desired

Her welfare, as you know--have wrought all things

A woman's scope could reach to forward it. . . .

And to you now who watch my ebbing here,

Declare I that Napoleon's first-chose wife

Has 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 and

daughter, lets them fall, and becomes unconscious. They fetch a

looking-glass, and find that her breathing has ceased. The clock

of the Chateau strikes noon. The scene is veiled.]

SCENE VIII

LONDON. THE OPERA HOUSE

[The house is lighted up with a blaze of wax candles, and a State

performance is about to begin in honour of the Allied sovereigns

now on a visit to England to celebrate the Peace. Peace-devices

adorn the theatre. A band can be heard in the street playing

"The White Cockade."

An extended Royal box has been formed by removing the partitions

of adjoining boxes. It is empty as yet, but the other parts of

the house are crowded to excess, and somewhat disorderly, the

interior doors having been broken down by besiegers, and many

people having obtained admission without p*****t. The prevalent

costume of the ladies is white satin and diamonds, with a few in

lilac.

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 exclamations

of persons half suffocated by the pressure.

At the end of the first act there follows a divertissement. The

curtain having fallen, a silence of expectation succeeds. It is

a little past ten o'clock.

Enter the Royal box the PRINCE REGENT, accompanied by the EMPEROR

OF RUSSIA, demonstrative in manner now as always, the KING OF

PRUSSIA, with his mien of reserve, and many minor ROYAL PERSONAGES

of Europe. There are moderate acclamations. At their back and in

neighbouring boxes LORD LIVERPOOL, LORD CASTLEREAGH, officers in

the suite of the sovereigns, interpreters, and others take their

places.

The curtain rises again, and the performers are discovered drawn

up in line on the stage. They sing "God save the King." The

sovereigns stand up, bow, and resume their seats amid more

applause.]

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 REGENT

To you, sire, depend upon't--by way of compliment.

[The second act of the Opera proceeds.]

EMPEROR OF RUSSIA

Any later news from Elba, sir?

PRINCE REGENT

Nothing more than rumours, which, 'pon my honour, I can hardly

credit. One is that Bonaparte's valet has written to say the

ex-Emperor is becoming imbecile, and is an object of ridicule to

the inhabitants of the island.

KING OF PRUSSIA

A 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 becoming

a hot-bed of intrigue and conspiracy in no long time!

PRINCE REGENT

The ex-Empress, Marie-Louise, hasn't joined him after all, I learn.

Has she remained at Schonbrunn since leaving France, sires?

EMPEROR OF RUSSIA

Yes, sir; with her son. She must never go back to France. Metternich

and her father will know better than let her do that. Poor young

thing, I am sorry for her all the same. She would have joined

Napoleon if she had been left to herself.--And I was sorry for the

other 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 with

him. Twenty thousand people crowded down from Paris to see her lying

in state last week.

PRINCE REGENT

Pity she didn't have a child by him, by God.

KING OF PRUSSIA

I 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 REGENT

Some of our Government wanted to pack him off to St. Helena--an

island somewhere in the Atlantic, or Pacific, or Great South Sea.

But they were over-ruled. 'Twould have been a surer game.

EMPEROR OF RUSSIA

One hears strange stories of his saying and doings. Some of my

people were telling me to-day that he says it is to Austria that

he really owes his fall, and that he ought to have destroyed her

when he had her in his power.

PRINCE REGENT

Dammy, sire, don't ye think he owes his fall to his ambition to

humble England by rupture of the Peace of Amiens, and trying to

invade us, and wasting his strength against us in the Peninsula?

EMPEROR OF RUSSIA

I incline to think, with the greatest deference, that it was Moscow

that broke him.

KING OF PRUSSIA

The 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 OF

WALES, attended by LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL, SIR W. GELL, and

others. Louder applause now rings through the theatre, drowning

the sweet voice of the GRASSINI in "Aristodemo."]

LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL

It is meant for your Royal Highness!

PRINCESS OF WALES

I don't think so, my dear. Punch's wife is nobody when Punch himself

is present.

LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL

I feel convinced that it is by their looking this way.

SIR W. GELL

Surely ma'am you will acknowledge their affection? Otherwise we may

be hissed.

PRINCESS OF WALES

I know my business better than to take that morsel out of my husband's

mouth. There--you see he enjoys it! I cannot assume that it is

meant for me unless they call my name.

[The PRINCE REGENT rises and bows, the TSAR and the KING OF PRUSSIA

doing the same.]

LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL

He and the others are bowing for you, ma'am!

PRINCESS OF WALES

Mine God, then; I will bow too! (She rises and bends to them.)

PRINCE REGENT

She thinks we rose on her account.--A damn fool. (Aside.)

EMPEROR OF RUSSIA

What--didn't we? I certainly rose in homage to her.

PRINCE REGENT

No, sire. We were supposed to rise to the repeated applause of the

people.

EMPEROR OF RUSSIA

H'm. Your customs sir, are a little puzzling. . . . (To the King of

Prussia.) A fine-looking woman! I must call upon the Princess of

Wales to-morrow.

KING OF PRUSSIA

I 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't

know what a laughing-stock they'll make of me if they go to her.

Tell 'em they had better not.

LIVERPOOL

I can hardly tell them now, sir, while we are celebrating the Peace

and Wellington's victories.

PRINCE REGENT

Oh, damn the peace, and damn the war, and damn Boney, and damn

Wellington's victories!--the question is, how am I to get over this

infernal woman!--Well, well,--I must write, or send Tyrwhitt to-

morrow morning, begging them to abandon the idea of visiting her

for politic reasons.

[The Opera proceeds to the end, and is followed by a hymn and

chorus laudatory to peace. Next a new ballet by MONSIEUR VESTRIS,

in which M. ROZIER and MADAME ANGIOLINI dance a pas-de-deux. Then

the 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 stately

curtseys.]

A VOICE

Shall we burn down Carlton House, my dear, and him in it?

PRINCESS OF WALES

No, my good folks! Be quiet. Go home to your beds, and let me do

the same.

[After some difficulty she gets out of the house. The people thin

away. As the candle-snuffers extinguish the lights a shouting is

heard without.]

VOICES OF CROWD

Long life to the Princess of Wales! Three cheers for a woman wronged!

[The Opera-house becomes lost in darkness.]

In the 1600s, Balthasar Gracian, a jesuit priest wrote 300 aphorisms on living life called "The Art of Worldly Wisdom." Join our newsletter below and read them all, one at a time.