Part 20
Here comes dear Anne Speak not of it before her.
[Enter the GRAND-DUCHESS, a girl of sixteen.]
ANNE
Alas! the news is that poor Prussia's queen, Spirited Queen Louisa, once so fair, Is slowly dying, mother! Did you know?
ALEXANDER [betraying emotion]
Ah!--such I dreaded from the earlier hints. Poor soul--her heart was slain some time ago.
ANNE
What do you mean by that, my brother dear?
EMPRESS-MOTHER
He means, my child, that he as usual spends Much sentiment upon the foreign fair, And hence leaves little for his folk at home.
ALEXANDER
I mean, Anne, that her country's overthrow Let death into her heart. The Tilsit days Taught me to know her well, and honour her. She was a lovely woman even then!... Strangely, the present English Prince of Wales Was wished to husband her. Had wishes won, They might have varied Europe's history.
ANNE
Napoleon, I have heard, admired her once; How he must grieve that soon she'll be no more!
EMPRESS-MOTHER
Napoleon and your brother loved her both.
[Alexander shows embarrassment.]
But whatsoever grief be Alexander's, His will be none who feels but for himself.
ANNE
O mother, how can you mistake him so! He worships her who is to be his wife, The fair Archduchess Marie.
EMPRESS-MOTHER
Simple child, As yet he has never seen her, or but barely. That is a tactic suit, with love to match!
ALEXANDER [with vainly veiled tenderness]
High-souled Louisa;--when shall I forget Those Tilsit gatherings in the long-sunned June! Napoleon's gallantries deceived her quite, Who fondly felt her pleas for Magdeburg Had won him to its cause; the while, alas! His cynic sense but posed in cruel play!
EMPRESS-MOTHER
Bitterly mourned she her civilities When time unlocked the truth, that she had choked Her indignation at his former slights And slanderous sayings for a baseless hope, And wrought no tittle for her country's gain. I marvel why you mourn a frustrate tie With one whose wiles could wring a woman so!
ALEXANDER [uneasily]
I marvel also, when I think of it!
EMPRESS-MOTHER
Don't listen to us longer, dearest Anne.
[Exit Anne.]
--You will uphold my judging by and by, That as a suitor we are quit of him, And that blind Austria will rue the hour Wherein she plucks for him her fairest flower!
[The scene shuts.]
## SCENE VIII
PARIS. THE GRAND GALLERY OF THE LOUVRE AND THE SALON-CARRE ADJOINING
[The view is up the middle of the Gallery, which is now a spectacle of much magnificence. Backed by the large paintings on the walls are double rows on each side of brightly dressed ladies, the pick of Imperial society, to the number of four thousand, one thousand in each row; and behind these standing up are two rows on each side of men of privilege and fashion. Officers of the Imperial Guard are dotted about as marshals.
Temporary barriers form a wide passage up the midst, leading to the Salon-Carre, which is seen through the opening to be fitted up as a chapel, with a gorgeous altar, tall candles, and cross. In front of the altar is a platform with a canopy over it. On the platform are two gilt chairs and a prie-dieu.
The expectant assembly does not continuously remain in the seats, but promenades and talks, the voices at times rising to a din amid the strains of the orchestra, conducted by the EMPEROR'S Director of Music. Refreshments in profusion are handed round, and the extemporized cathedral resolves itself into a gigantic cafe of persons of distinction under the Empire.]
SPIRIT SINISTER
All day have they been waiting for their galanty-show, and now the hour of performance is on the strike. It may be seasonable to muse on the sixteenth Louis and the bride's great-aunt, as the nearing procession is, I see, appositely crossing the track of the tumbril which was the last coach of that respected lady.... It is now passing over the site of the scaffold on which she lost her head. ... Now it will soon be here.
[Suddenly the heralds enter the Gallery at the end towards the Tuileries, the spectators ranging themselves in their places. In a moment the wedding procession of the EMPEROR and EMPRESS becomes visible. The civil marriage having already been performed, Napoleon and Marie Louise advance together along the vacant pathway towards the Salon-Carre, followed by the long suite of illustrious personages, and acclamations burst from all parts of the Grand Gallery.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
Whose are those forms that pair in pompous train Behind the hand-in-hand half-wedded ones, With faces speaking sense of an adventure Which may close well, or not so?
RECORDING ANGEL [reciting]
First there walks The Emperor's brother Louis, Holland's King; Then Jerome of Westphalia with his spouse; The mother-queen, and Julie Queen of Spain, The Prince Borghese and the Princess Pauline, Beauharnais the Vice-King of Italy, And Murat King of Naples, with their Queens; Baden's Grand-Duke, Arch-Chancellor Cambaceres, Berthier, Lebrun, and, not least, Talleyrand. Then the Grand Marshal and the Chamberlain, The Lords-in-Waiting, the Grand Equerry, With waiting-ladies, women of the chamber, An others called by office, rank, or fame.
SPIRIT OF RUMOUR
New, many, to Imperial dignities; Which, won by character and quality In those who now enjoy them, will become The birthright of their sons in aftertime.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
It fits thee not to augur, quick-eared Shade. Ephemeral at the best all honours be, These even more ephemeral than their kind, So random-fashioned, swift, perturbable!
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
Napoleon looks content--nay, shines with joy.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Yet see it pass, as by a conjuror's wand.
[Thereupon Napoleon's face blackens as if the shadow of a winter night had fallen upon it. Resentful and threatening, he stops the procession and looks up and down the benches.]
SPIRIT SINISTER
This is sound artistry of the Immanent Will: it relieves the monotony of so much good-humour.
NAPOLEON [to the Chapel-master]
Where are the Cardinals? And why not here? [He speaks so loud that he is heard throughout the Gallery.]
ABBE DE PRADT [trembling]
Many are present here, your Majesty; But some are feebled by infirmities Too common to their age, and cannot come.
NAPOLEON
Tell me no nonsense! Half absent themselves Because they WILL not come. The factious fools! Well, be it so. But they shall flinch for it!
[MARIE LOUISE looks frightened. The procession moves on.]
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
I seem to see the thin and headless ghost Of the yet earlier Austrian, here, too, queen, Walking beside the bride, with frail attempts To pluck her by the arm!
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Nay, think not so. No trump unseals earth's sepulchre's to-day: We are the only phantoms now abroad On this mud-moulded ball! Through sixteen years She has decayed in a back-garden yonder, Dust all the showance time retains of her, Senseless of hustlings in her former house, Lost to all count of crowns and bridalry-- Even of her Austrian blood. No: what thou seest Springs of the quavering fancy, stirred to dreams By yon tart phantom's phrase.
MARIE LOUISE [sadly to Napoleon]
I know not why, I love not this day's doings half so well As our quaint meeting-time at Compiegne. A clammy air creeps round me, as from vaults Peopled with looming spectres, chilling me And angering you withal!
NAPOLEON
O, it is nought To trouble you: merely, my cherished one, Those devils of Italian Cardinals!-- Now I'll be bright as ever--you must, too.
MARIE LOUISE
I'll try.
[Reaching the entrance to the Salon-Carre amid strains of music the EMPEROR and EMPRESS are received and incensed by the CARDINAL GRAND ALMONERS. They take their seats under the canopy, and the train of notabilities seat themselves further back, the persons- in-waiting stopping behind the Imperial chairs.
The ceremony of the religious marriage now begins. The choir intones a hymn, the EMPEROR and EMPRESS go to the altar, remove their gloves, and make their vows.]
SPIRIT IRONIC
The English Church should return thanks for this wedding, seeing how it will purge of coarseness the picture-sheets of that artistic nation, which will hardly be able to caricature the new wife as it did poor plebeian Josephine. Such starched and ironed monarchists cannot sneer at a woman of such a divinely dry and crusted line like the Hapsburgs!
[Mass is next celebrated, after which the TE DEUM is chanted in harmonies that whirl round the walls of the Salon-Carre and quiver down the long Gallery. The procession then re-forms and returns, amid the flutterings and applause of the dense assembly. But Napoleon's face has not lost the sombre expression which settled on it. The pair and their train pass out by the west door, and the congregation disperses in the other direction, the cloud- curtain closing over the scene as they disappear.
ACT SIXTH
## SCENE I
THE LINES OF TORRES VEDRAS
[A bird's-eye perspective is revealed of the peninsular tract of Portuguese territory lying between the shining pool of the Tagus on the east, and the white-frilled Atlantic lifting rhythmically on the west. As thus beheld the tract features itself somewhat like a late-Gothic shield, the upper edge from the dexter to the sinister chief being the lines of Torres Vedras, stretching across from the mouth of the Zezambre on the left to Alhandra on the right, and the south or base point being Fort S. Julian. The roofs of Lisbon appear at the sinister base, and in a corresponding spot on the opposite side Cape Roca.
It is perceived in a moment that the northern verge of this nearly coast-hemmed region is the only one through which access can be gained to it by land, and a close scrutiny of the boundary there reveals that means are being adopted to effectually prevent such access.
From east to west along it runs a chain of defences, dotted at intervals by dozens of circular and square redoubts, either made or in the making, two of the latter being of enormous size. Between these stretch unclimbable escarpments, stone walls, and other breastworks, and in front of all a double row of abatis, formed of the limbs of trees.
Within the outer line of defence is a second, constructed on the same shield-shaped tract of country; and is not more than a twelfth of the length of the others. It is a continuous entrenchment of ditches and ramparts, and its object--that of covering a forced embarkation--is rendered apparent by some rocking English transports off the shore hard by.]
DUMB SHOW
Innumerable human figures are busying themselves like cheese-mites all along the northernmost frontage, undercutting easy slopes into steep ones, digging ditches, piling stones, felling trees, dragging them, and interlacing them along the front as required.
On the second breastwork, which is completed, only a few figures move.
On the third breastwork, which is fully matured and equipped, minute red sentinels creep backwards and forwards noiselessly.
As time passes three reddish-grey streams of marching men loom out to the north, advancing southward along three roads towards three diverse points in the first defence. These form the English army, entering the lines for shelter. Looked down upon, their motion seems peristaltic and vermicular, like that of three caterpillars. The division on the left is under Picton, in the centre under Leith and Cole, and on the extreme right, by Alhandra, under Hill. Beside one of the roads two or three of the soldiers are dangling from a tree by the neck, probably for plundering.
The Dumb Show ends, and the point of view sinks to the earth.
## SCENE II
THE SAME. OUTSIDE THE LINES
[The winter day has gloomed to a stormful evening, and the road outside the first line of defence forms the foreground of the stage.
Enter in the dusk from the hills to the north of the entrenchment, near Calandrix, a group of horsemen, which includes MASSENA in command of the French forces, FOY, LOISON, and other officers of his staff.
They ride forward in the twilight and tempest, and reconnoitre, till they see against the sky the ramparts blocking the road they pursue. They halt silently. MASSENA, puzzled, endeavours with his glass to make out the obstacle.]
MASSENA
Something stands here to peril our advance, Or even prevent it!
FOY
These are the English lines-- Their outer horns and tusks--whereof I spoke, Constructed by Lord Wellington of late To keep his foothold firm in Portugal.
MASSENA
Thrusts he his burly, bossed disfigurements So far to north as this? I had pictured me The lay much nearer Lisbon. Little strange Lord Wellington rode placid at Busaco With this behind his back! Well, it is hard But that we turn them somewhere, I assume? They scarce can close up every southward gap Between the Tagus and the Atlantic Sea.
FOY
I hold they can, and do; although, no doubt, By searching we shall spy some raggedness Which customed skill may force.
MASSENA
Plain 'tis, no less, We may heap corpses vainly hereabout, And crack good bones in waste. By human power This passes mounting! What say you's behind?
LOISON
Another line exactly like the first, But more matured. Behind its back a third.
MASSENA
How long have these prim ponderosities Been rearing up their foreheads to the moon?
LOISON
Some months in all. I know not quite how long. They are Lord Wellington's select device, And, like him, heavy, slow, laborious, sure.
MASSENA
May he enjoy their sureness. He deserves to. I had no inkling of such barriers here. A good road runs along their front, it seems, Which offers us advantage.... What a night!
[The tempest cries dismally about the earthworks above them, as the reconnoitrers linger in the slight shelter the lower ground affords. They are about to turn back.
Enter from the cross-road to the right JUNOT and some more officers. They come up at a signal that the others are those they lately parted from.]
JUNOT
We have ridden along as far as Calandrix, Favoured therein by this disordered night, Which tongues its language to the disguise of ours; And find amid the vale an open route That, well manoeuvred, may be practicable.
MASSENA
I'll look now at it, while the weather aids. If it may serve our end when all's prepared So good. If not, some other to the west.
[Exeunt MASSENA, JUNOT, LOISON, FOY, and the rest by the paved crossway to the right.
The wind continues to prevail as the spot is left desolate, the darkness increases, rain descends more heavily, and the scene is blotted out.]
## SCENE III
PARIS. THE TUILERIES
[The anteroom to the EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE'S bed-chamber, in which are discovered NAPOLEON in his dressing-gown, the DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO, and other ladies-in-waiting. CORVISART the first physician, and the second physician BOURDIER.
The time is before dawn. The EMPEROR walks up and down, throws himself on a sofa, or stands at the window. A cry of anguish comes occasionally from within.
NAPOLEON opens the door and speaks into the bed-chamber.]
NAPOLEON
How now, Dubois?
VOICE OF DUBOIS THE ACCOUCHEUR [nervously]
Less well, sire, than I hoped; I fear no skill can save them both.
NAPOLEON [agitated]
Good god!
[Exit CORVISART into the bed-room. Enter DUBOIS.]
DUBOIS [with hesitation]
Which life is to be saved? The Empress, sire, Lies in great jeopardy. I have not known In my long years of many-featured practice An instance in a thousand fall out so.
NAPOLEON
Then save the mother, pray! Think but of her; It is her privilege, and my command.-- Don't lose you head, Dubois, at this tight time: Your furthest skill can work but what it may. Fancy that you are merely standing by A shop-wife's couch, say, in the Rue Saint Denis; Show the aplomb and phlegm that you would show Did such a bed receive your ministry.
[Exit DUBOIS.]
VOICE OF MARIE LOUISE [within]
O pray, pray don't! Those ugly things terrify me! Why should I be tortured even if I am but a means to an end! Let me die! It was cruel of him to bring this upon me!
[Exit NAPOLEON impatiently to the bed-room.]
VOICE OF MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU [within]
Keep up your spirits, madame! I have been through it myself and I assure you there is no danger to you. It is going on all right, and I am holding you.
VOICE OF NAPOLEON [within]
Heaven above! Why did you not deep those cursed sugar-tongs out of her sight? How is she going to get through it if you frighten her like this?
VOICE OF DUBOIS [within]
If you will pardon me, your Majesty, I must implore you not to interfere! I'll not be scapegoat for the consequence If, sire, you do! Better for her sake far Would you withdraw. The sight of your concern But agitates and weakens her endurance. I will inform you all, and call you back If things should worsen here.
[Re-enter NAPOLEON from the bed-chamber. He half shuts the door, and remains close to it listening, pale and nervous.]
BOURDIER
I ask you, sire, To harass yourself less with this event, Which may amend anon: I much regret The honoured mother of your Majesty, And sister too, should both have left ere now, Whose solace would have bridged these anxious hours.
NAPOLEON [absently]
As we were not expecting it so soon I begged they would sit up no longer here.... She ought to get along; she has help enough With that half-dozen of them at hand within-- Skilled Madame Blaise the nurse, and two besides, Madame de Montesquiou and Madame Ballant---
DUBOIS [speaking through the doorway]
Past is the question, sire, of which to save! The child is dead; the while her Majesty Is getting through it well.
NAPOLEON
Praise Heaven for that! I'll not grieve overmuch about the child.... Never shall She go through this strain again To lay down a dynastic line for me.
DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO [aside to the second lady]
He only says that now. In cold blood it would be far otherwise. That's how men are.
VOICE OF MADAME BLAISE [within]
Doctor, the child's alive! [The cry of an infant is heard.]
VOICE OF DUBOIS [calling from within]
Sire, both are saved.
[NAPOLEON rushes into the chamber, and is heard kissing MARIE LOUISE.]
VOICE OF MADAME BLAISE [within]
A vigorous boy, your Imperial Majesty. The brandy and hot napkins brought him to.
DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO
It is as I expected. A healthy young woman of her build had every chance of doing well, despite the doctors.
[An interval.]
NAPOLEON [re-entering radiantly]
We have achieved a healthy heir, good dames, And in the feat the Empress was most brave, Although she suffered much--so much, indeed, That I would sooner father no more sons Than have so fair a fruit-tree undergo Another wrenching of such magnitude.
[He walks to the window, pulls aside the curtains, and looks out. It is a joyful spring morning. The Tuileries' gardens are thronged with an immense crowd, kept at a little distance off the Palace by a cord. The windows of the neighbouring houses are full of gazers, and the streets are thronged with halting carriages, their inmates awaiting the event.]
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS [whispering to Napoleon]
At this high hour there broods a woman nigh, Ay, here in Paris, with her child and thine, Who might have played this part with truer eye To thee and to thy contemplated line!
NAPOLEON [soliloquizing]
Strange that just now there flashes on my soul That little one I loved in Warsaw days, Marie Walewska, and my boy by her!-- She was shown faithless by a foul intrigue Till fate sealed up her opportunity.... But what's one woman's fortune more or less Beside the schemes of kings!--Ah, there's the new!
[A gun is heard from the Invalides.]
CROWD [excitedly]
One!
[Another report of the gun, and another, succeed.]
Two! Three! Four!
[The firing and counting proceed to twenty-one, when there is great suspense. The gun fires again, and the excitement is doubled.]
Twenty-two! A boy!
[The remainder of the counting up to a hundred-and-one is drowned in the huzzas. Bells begin ringing, and from the Champ de Mars a balloon ascends, from which the tidings are scattered in hand-bills as it floats away from France.
Enter the PRESIDENT OF THE SENATE, CAMBACERES, BERTHIER, LEBRUN, and other officers of state. NAPOLEON turns from the window.]
CAMBACERES
Unstinted gratulations and goodwill We bring to your Imperial Majesty, While still resounds the superflux of joy With which your people welcome this live star Upon the horizon of history!
PRESIDENT OF THE SENATE
All blessings at their goodliest will grace The advent of this New Messiah, sire, Of fairer prospects than the former one, Whose coming at so apt an hour endues The widening glory of your high exploits With permanence, and flings the dimness far That cloaked the future of our chronicle!
NAPOLEON
My thanks; though, gentlemen, upon my soul You might have drawn the line at the Messiah. But I excuse you.--Yes, the boy has come; He took some coaxing, but he's here at last.-- And what news brings the morning from without? I know of none but this the Empress now Trumps to the world from the adjoining room.
PRESIDENT OF THE SENATE
Nothing in Europe, sire, that can compare In magnitude therewith to more effect Than with an eagle some frail finch or wren. To wit: the ban on English trade prevailing, Subjects our merchant-houses to such strain That many of the best see bankruptcy Like a grim ghost ahead. Next week, they say In secret here, six of the largest close.
NAPOLEON
It shall not be! Our burst of natal joy Must not be sullied by so mean a thing: Aid shall be rendered. Much as we may suffer, England must suffer more, and I am content. What has come in from Spain and Portugal?
BERTHIER
Vaguely-voiced rumours, sire, but nothing more, Which travel countries quick as earthquake thrills, No mortal knowing how.
NAPOLEON
Of Massena?
BERTHIER
Yea. He retreats for prudence' sake, it seems, Before Lord Wellington. Dispatches soon Must reach your Majesty, explaining all.
NAPOLEON
Ever retreating! Why declines he so From all his olden prowess? Why, again, Did he give battle at Busaco lately, When Lisbon could be marched on without strain? Why has he dallied by the Tagus bank And shunned the obvious course? I gave him Ney, Soult, and Junot, and eighty thousand men, And he does nothing. Really it might seem As though we meant to let this Wellington Be even with us there!
BERTHIER
His mighty forts At Torres Vedras hamper Massena, And quite preclude advance.
NAPOLEON
O well--no matter: Why should I linger on these haps of war Now that I have a son!
[Exeunt NAPOLEON by one door and by another the PRESIDENT OF THE SENATE, CAMBACERES, LEBRUN, BERTHIER, and officials.]
CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music]
The Will Itself is slave to him, And holds it blissful to obey!-- He said, “Go to; it is my whim
“To bed a bride without delay, Who shall unite my dull new name With one that shone in Caesar's day.
“She must conceive--you hear my claim?-- And bear a son--no daughter, mind-- Who shall hand on my form and fame
“To future times as I have designed; And at the birth throughout the land Must cannon roar and alp-horns wind!”
The Will grew conscious at command, And ordered issue as he planned.
[The interior of the Palace is veiled.]
## SCENE IV
SPAIN. ALBUERA