Part 29
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 payment. 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.]
ACT FIFTH
## SCENE I
ELBA. THE QUAY, PORTO FERRAJO
[Night descends upon a beautiful blue cove, enclosed on three sides by mountains. The port lies towards the western [right-hand] horn of the concave, behind it being the buildings of the town; their long white walls and rows of windows rise tier above tier on the steep incline at the back, and are intersected by narrow alleys and flights of steps that lead up to forts on the summit.
Upon a rock between two of these forts stands the Palace of the Mulini, NAPOLEONS'S residence in Ferrajo. Its windows command the whole town and the port.]
CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music]
The Congress of Vienna sits, And war becomes a war of wits, Where every Power perpends withal Its dues as large, its friends' as small; Till Priests of Peace prepare once more To fight as they have fought before!
In Paris there is discontent; Medals are wrought that represent One now unnamed. Men whisper, “He Who once has been, again will be!”
DUMB SHOW