SCENE XII

PARIS. THE TUILERIES

[An antechamber to the EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE'S bedroom, at half-past

eleven on a December night. The DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO and another

lady-in-waiting are discovered talking to the Empress.]

MARIE LOUISE

I have felt unapt for anything to-night,

And I will now retire.

[She goes into her child's room adjoining.]

DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO

For some long while

There has come no letter from the Emperor,

And Paris brims with ghastly rumourings

About the far campaign. Not being beloved,

The town is over dull for her alone.

[Re-enter MARIE LOUISE.]

MARIE LOUISE

The King of Rome is sleeping in his cot

Sweetly and safe. Now, ladies, I am going.

[She withdraws. Her tiring-women pass through into her chamber.

They presently return and go out. A manservant enters, and bars

the window-shutters with numerous bolts. Exit manservant. The

Duchess retires. The other lady-in-waiting rises to go into her

bedroom, which adjoins that of the Empress.

Men's voices are suddenly heard in the corridor without. The lady-

in-waiting pauses with parted lips. The voices grow louder. The

lady-in-waiting screams.

MARIE LOUISE hastily re-enters in a dressing-gown thrown over her

night-clothes.]

MARIE LOUISE

Great God, what altercation can that be?

I had just verged on sleep when it aroused me!

[A thumping is heard at the door.]

VOICE OF NAPOLEON [without]

Hola! Pray let me in! Unlock the door!

LADY-IN-WAITING

Heaven's mercy on us! What man may it be

At such and hour as this?

MARIE LOUISE

O it is he!

[The lady-in-waiting unlocks the door. NAPOLEON enters, scarcely

recognizable, in a fur cloak and hood over his ears. He throws

off the cloak and discloses himself to be in the shabbiest and

muddiest attire. Marie Louise is agitated almost to fainting.]

SPIRIT IRONIC

Is it with fright or joy?

MARIE LOUISE

I scarce believe

What my sight tells me! Home, and in such garb!

[NAPOLEON embraces her.]

NAPOLEON

I have had great work in getting in, my dear!

They failed to recognize me at the gates,

Being sceptical at my poor hackney-coach

And poorer baggage. I had to show my face

In a fierce light ere they would let me pass,

And even then they doubted till I spoke.--

What think you, dear, of such a tramp-like spouse?

[He warms his hands at the fire.]

Ha--it is much more comfortable here

Than on the Russian plains!

MARIE LOUISE [timidly]

You have suffered there?--

Your face is thinner, and has line in it;

No marvel that they did not know you!

NAPOLEON

Yes:

Disasters many and swift have swooped on me!--

Since crossing--ugh!--the Beresina River

I have been compelled to come incognito;

Ay--as a fugitive and outlaw quite.

MARIE LOUISE

We'll thank Heaven, anyhow, that you are safe.

I had gone to bed, and everybody almost!

what, now, do require? Some food of course?

[The child in the adjoining chamber begins to cry, awakened by the

loud tones of NAPOLEON.]

NAPOLEON

Ah--that's his little voice! I'll in and see him.

MARIE LOUISE

I'll come with you.

[NAPOLEON and the EMPRESS pass into the other room. The lady-in-

waiting calls up yawning servants and gives orders. The servants

go to execute them. Re-enter NAPOLEON and MARIE LOUISE. The lady-

in-waiting goes out.]

NAPOLEON

I have said it, dear!

All the disasters summed in the bulletin

Shall be repaired.

MARIE LOUISE

And are they terrible?

NAPOLEON

Have you not read the last-sent bulletin,

Dear friend?

MARIE LOUISE

No recent bulletin has come.

NAPOLEON

Ah--I must have outstripped it on the way!

MARIE LOUISE

And where is the Grand Army?

NAPOLEON

Oh--that's gone.

MARIE LOUISE

Gone? But--gone where?

NAPOLEON

Gone all to nothing, dear.

MARIE LOUISE [incredulously]

But some six hundred thousand I saw pass

Through Dresden Russia-wards?

NAPOLEON [flinging himself into a chair]

Well, those men lie--

Or most of them--in layers of bleaching bones

'Twixt here and Moscow.... I have been subdued;

But by the elements; and them alone.

Not Russia, but God's sky has conquered me!

[With an appalled look she sits beside him.]

From the sublime to the ridiculous

There's but a step!--I have been saying it

All through the leagues of my long journey home--

And that step has been passed in this affair!...

Yes, briefly, it is quite ridiculous,

Whichever way you look at it.--Ha, ha!

MARIE LOUISE [simply]

But those six hundred thousand throbbing throats

That cheered me deaf at Dresden, marching east

So full of youth and spirits--all bleached bones--

Ridiculous? Can it be so, dear, to--

Their mothers say?

NAPOLEON [with a twitch of displeasure]

You scarcely understand.

I meant the enterprise, and not its stuff....

I had no wish to fight, nor Alexander,

But circumstance impaled us each on each;

The Genius who outshapes my destinies

Did all the rest! Had I but hit success,

Imperial splendour would have worn a crown

Unmatched in long-scrolled Time!... Well, leave that now.--

What do they know about all this in Paris?

MARIE LOUSE

I cannot say. Black rumours fly and croak

Like ravens through the streets, but come to me

Thinned to the vague!--Occurrences in Spain

Breed much disquiet with these other things.

Marmont's defeat at Salamanca field

Ploughed deep into men's brows. The cafes say

Your troops must clear from Spain.

NAPOLEON

We'll see to that!

I'll find a way to do a better thing;

Though I must have another army first--

Three hundred thousand quite. Fishes as good

Swim in the sea as have come out of it.

But to begin, we must make sure of France,

Disclose ourselves to the good folk of Paris

In daily outing as a family group,

The type and model of domestic bliss

[Which, by the way, we are]. And I intend,

Also, to gild the dome of the Invalides

In best gold leaf, and on a novel pattern.

MARIE LOUISE

To gild the dome, dear? Why?

NAPOLEON

To give them something

To think about. They'll take to it like children,

And argue in the cafes right and left

On its artistic points.--So they'll forget

The woes of Moscow.

[A chamberlain-in-waiting announces supper. MARIE LOUISE and

NAPOLEON go out. The room darkens and the scene closes.]

ACT SECOND

SCENE I

THE PLAIN OF VITORIA

[It is the eve of the longest day of the year; also the eve of the

battle of Vitoria. The English army in the Peninsula, and their

Spanish and Portuguese allies, are bivouacking on the western side

of the Plain, about six miles from the town.

On some high ground in the left mid-distance may be discerned the

MARQUIS OF WELLINGTON'S tent, with GENERALS HILL, PICTON, PONSONBY,

GRAHAM, and others of his staff, going in and out in consultation

on the momentous event impending. Near the foreground are some

hussars sitting round a fire, the evening being damp; their horses

are picketed behind. In the immediate front of the scene are some

troop-officers talking.]

FIRST OFFICER

This grateful rest of four-and-twenty hours

Is priceless for our jaded soldiery;

And we have reconnoitred largely, too;

So the slow day will not have slipped in vain.

SECOND OFFICER [looking towards the headquarter tent]

By this time they must nearly have dotted down

The methods of our master-stroke to-morrow:

I have no clear conception of its plan,

Even in its leading lines. What is decided?

FIRST OFFICER

There are outshaping three supreme attacks,

As I decipher. Graham's on the left,

To compass which he crosses the Zadorra,

And turns the enemy's right. On our right, Hill

Will start at once to storm the Puebla crests.

The Chief himself, with us here in the centre,

Will lead on by the bridges Tres-Puentes

Over the ridge there, and the Mendoza bridge

A little further up.--That's roughly it;

But much and wide discretionary power

Is left the generals all.

[The officers walk away, and the stillness increases, so the

conversation at the hussars' bivouac, a few yards further back,

becomes noticeable.]

SERGEANT YOUNG[19]

I wonder, I wonder how Stourcastle is looking this summer night, and

all the old folks there!

SECOND HUSSAR

You was born there, I think I've heard ye say, Sergeant?

SERGEANT YOUNG

I was. And though I ought not to say it, as father and mother are

living there still, 'tis a dull place at times. Now Budmouth-Regis

was exactly to my taste when we were there with the Court that

summer, and the King and Queen a-wambling about among us like the

most everyday old man and woman you ever see. Yes, there was plenty

going on, and only a pretty step from home. Altogether we had a

fine time!

THIRD HUSSAR

You walked with a girl there for some weeks, Sergeant, if my memory

serves?

SERGEANT YOUNG

I did. And a pretty girl 'a was. But nothing came on't. A month

afore we struck camp she married a tallow-chandler's dipper of Little

Nicholas Lane. I was a good deal upset about it at the time. But

one gets over things!

SECOND HUSSAR

'Twas a low taste in the hussy, come to that.--Howsomever, I agree

about Budmouth. I never had pleasanter times than when we lay there.

You had a song on it, Sergeant, in them days, if I don't mistake?

SERGEANT YOUNG

I had; and have still. 'Twas made up when we left by our bandmaster

that used to conduct in front of Gloucester Lodge at the King's Mess

every afternoon.

[The Sergeant is silent for a minute, then suddenly bursts into

melody.]

SONG “BUDMOUTH DEARS”

I

When we lay where Budmouth Beach is,

O, the girls were fresh as peaches,

With their tall and tossing figures and their eyes of blue

and brown!

And our hearts would ache with longing

As we paced from our sing-songing,

With a smart CLINK! CLINK! up the Esplanade and down

II

They distracted and delayed us

By the pleasant pranks they played us,

And what marvel, then, if troopers, even of regiments of renown,

On whom flashed those eyes divine, O,

Should forget the countersign, O,

As we tore CLINK! CLINK! back to camp above the town.

III

Do they miss us much, I wonder,

Now that war has swept us sunder,

And we roam from where the faces smile to where the faces frown?

And no more behold the features

Of the fair fantastic creatures,

And no more CLINK! CLINK! past the parlours of the town?

IV

Shall we once again there meet them?

Falter fond attempts to greet them?

Will the gay sling-jacket[20] glow again beside the muslin gown?--

Will they archly quiz and con us

With a sideways glance upon us,

While our spurs CLINK! CLINK! up the Esplanade and down?

[Applause from the other hussars. More songs are sung, the night

gets darker, the fires go out, and the camp sleeps.]

SCENE II

THE SAME, FROM THE PUEBLA HEIGHTS

[It is now day; but a summer fog pervades the prospect. Behind

the fog is heard the roll of bass and tenor drums and the clash

of cymbals, with notes of the popular march “The Downfall of Paris.”

By degrees the fog lifts, and the Plain is disclosed. From this

elevation, gazing north, the expanse looks like the palm of a

monstrous right hand, a little hollowed, some half-dozen miles

across, wherein the ball of the thumb is roughly represented by

heights to the east, on which the French centre has gathered; the

“Mount of Mars” and the “Moon” [the opposite side of the palm] by

the position of the English on the left or west of the plain;

and the “Line of Life” by the Zadorra, an unfordable river running

from the town down the plain, and dropping out of it through a

pass in the Puebla Heights to the south, just beneath our point

of observation--that is to say, toward the wrist of the supposed

hand. The left of the English army under GRAHAM would occupy the

“mounts” at the base of the fingers; while the bent finger-tips

might represent the Cantabrian Hills beyond the plain to the north

or back of the scene.

From the aforesaid stony crests of Puebla the white town and

church towers of Vitoria can be descried on a slope to the right-

rear of the field of battle. A warm rain succeeds the fog for a

short while, bringing up the fragrant scents from fields, vineyards,

and gardens, now in the full leafage of June.]

DUMB SHOW

All the English forces converge forward--that is, eastwardly--the

centre over the ridges, the right through the Pass to the south, the

left down the Bilbao road on the north-west, the bands of the divers

regiments striking up the same quick march, “The Downfall of Paris.”

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

You see the scene. And yet you see it not.

What do you notice now?

There immediately is shown visually the electric state of mind that

animates WELLINGTON, GRAHAM, HILL, KEMPT, PICTON, COLVILLE, and other

responsible ones on the British side; and on the French KING JOSEPH

stationary on the hill overlooking his own centre, and surrounded by

a numerous staff that includes his adviser MARSHAL JOURDAN, with,

far away in the field, GAZAN, D'ERLON, REILLE, and other marshals.

This vision, resembling as a whole the interior of a beating brain

lit by phosphorescence, in an instant fades back to normal.

Anon we see the English hussars with their flying pelisses galloping

across the Zadorra on one of the Tres-Puentes in the midst of the

field, as had been planned, the English lines in the foreground under

HILL pushing the enemy up the slopes; and far in the distance, to the

left of Vitoria, whiffs of grey smoke followed by low rumbles show

that the left of the English army under GRAHAM is pushing on there.

Bridge after bridge of the half-dozen over the Zadorra is crossed by

the British; and WELLINGTON, in the centre with PICTON, seeing the

hill and village of Arinez in front of him [eastward] to be weakly

held, carries the regiments of the seventh and third divisions in a

quick run towards it. Supported by the hussars, they ultimately

fight their way to the top, in a chaos of smoke, flame, and booming

echoes, loud-voiced PICTON, in an old blue coat and round hat,

swearing as he goes.

Meanwhile the French who are opposed to the English right, in the

foreground, have been turned by HILL; the heights are all abandoned,

and the columns fall back in a confused throng by the road to

Vitoria, hard pressed by the British, who capture abandoned guns

amid indescribable tumult, till the French make a stand in front

of the town.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

What's toward in the distance?--say!

SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS [aerial music]

Fitfully flash strange sights there; yea,

Unwonted spectacles of sweat and scare

Behind the French, that make a stand

With eighty cannon, match in hand.--

Upon the highway from the town to rear

An eddy of distraction reigns,

Where lumbering treasure, baggage-trains,

Padding pedestrians, haze the atmosphere.

SEMICHORUS II

Men, women, and their children fly,

And when the English over-high

Direct their death-bolts, on this billowy throng

Alight the too far-ranging balls,

Wringing out piteous shrieks and calls

From the pale mob, in monotones loud and long.

SEMICHORUS I

To leftward of the distant din

Reille meantime has been driven in

By Graham's measure overmastering might.--

Henceforward, masses of the foe

Withdraw, and, firing as they go,

Pass rightwise from the cockpit out of sight.

CHORUS

The sunset slants an ochreous shine

Upon the English knapsacked line,

Whose glistering bayonets incline

As bends the hot pursuit across the plain;

And tardily behind them goes

Too many a mournful load of those

Found wound-weak; while with stealthy crawl,

As silence wraps the rear of all,

Cloaked creatures of the starlight strip the slain.

SCENE III

THE SAME. THE ROAD FROM THE TOWN

[With the going down of the sun the English army finds itself in

complete possession of the mass of waggons and carriages distantly

beheld from the rear--laden with pictures, treasure, flour,

vegetables, furniture, finery, parrots, monkeys, and women--most

of the male sojourners in the town having taken to their heels

and disappeared across the fields.

The road is choked with these vehicles, the women they carry

including wives, mistresses, actresses, dancers, nuns, and

prostitutes, which struggle through droves of oxen, sheep, goats,

horses, asses, and mules-- a Noah's-ark of living creatures in

one vast procession.

There enters rapidly in front of this throng a carriage containing

KING JOSEPH BONAPARTE and an attendant, followed by another vehicle

with luggage.]

JOSEPH [inside carriage]

The bare unblinking truth hereon is this:

The Englishry are a pursuing army,

And we a flying brothel! See our men--

They leave their guns to save their mistresses!

[The carriage is fired upon from outside the scene. The KING leaps

from the vehicle and mounts a horse.

Enter at full gallop from the left CAPTAIN WYNDHAM and a detachment

of the Tenth Hussars in chase of the King's carriage; and from the

right a troop of French dragoons, who engage with the hussars and

hinder pursuit. Exit KING JOSEPH on horseback; afterwards the

hussars and dragoons go out fighting.

The British infantry enter irregularly, led by a sergeant of the

Eighty-seventh, mockingly carrying MARSHAL JOURDAN'S baton. The

crowd recedes. The soldiers ransack the King's carriages, cut

from their frames canvases by Murillo, Velasquez, and Zurbaran,

and use them as package-wrappers, throwing the papers and archives

into the road.

They next go to a waggon in the background, which contains a large

chest. Some of the soldiers burst it with a crash. It is full of

money, which rolls into the road. The soldiers begin scrambling,

but are restored to order; and they march on.

Enter more companies of infantry, out of control of their officers,

who are running behind. They see the dollars, and take up the

scramble for them; next ransacking other waggons and abstracting

therefrom uniforms, ladies raiment, jewels, plate, wines, and

spirits.

Some array them in the finery, and one soldier puts on a diamond

necklace; others load themselves with the money still lying about

the road. It begins to rain, and a private who has lost his kit

cuts a hole in the middle of a deframed old master, and, putting

it over his head, wears it as a poncho.

Enter WELLINGTON and others, grimy and perspiring.]

FIRST OFFICER

The men are plundering in all directions!

WELLINGTON

Let 'em. They've striven long and gallantly.

--What documents do I see lying there?

SECOND OFFICER [examining]

The archives of King Joseph's court, my lord;

His correspondence, too, with Bonaparte.

WELLINGTON

We must examine it. It may have use.

[Another company of soldiers enters, dragging some equipages that

have lost their horses by the traces being cut. The carriages

contain ladies, who shriek and weep at finding themselves captives.]

What women bring they there?

THIRD OFFICER

Mixed sorts, my lord.

The wives of many young French officers,

The mistresses of more--in male attire.

Yon elegant hussar is one, to wit;

She so disguised is of a Spanish house,--

One of the general's loves.

WELLINGTON

Well, pack them off

To-morrow to Pamplona, as you can;

We've neither list nor leisure for their charms.

By God, I never saw so many wh---s

In all my life before!

[Exeunt WELLINGTON, officers, and infantry. A soldier enters with

his arm round a lady in rich costume.]

SOLDIER

We must be married, my dear.

LADY [not knowing his language]

Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life!

SOLDIER

There's neither parson nor clerk here. But that don't matter--hey?

LADY

Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life!

SOLDIER

And if we've got to unmarry at cockcrow, why, so be it--hey?

LADY

Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life!

SOLDIER

A sensible 'ooman, whatever it is she says; that I can see by her

pretty face. Come along then, my dear. There'll be no bones broke,

and we'll take our lot with Christian resignation.

[Exeunt soldier and lady. The crowd thins away as darkness closes

in, and the growling of artillery ceases, though the wheels of the

flying enemy are still heard in the distance. The fires kindled

by the soldiers as they make their bivouacs blaze up in the gloom,

and throw their glares a long way, revealing on the slopes of the

hills many suffering ones who have not yet been carried in.

The last victorious regiment comes up from the rear, fifing and

drumming ere it reaches its resting-place the last bars of “The

Downfall of Paris”:--

Transcriber's Note: There follows in musical notation four bars

from that song in 2/4 time, key of C--

\\E EF G F\E EF G F\E EC D DB\C \\

SCENE IV

A FETE AT VAUXHALL

[It is the Vitoria festival at Vauxhall. The orchestra of the

renowned gardens exhibits a blaze of lamps and candles arranged

in the shape of a temple, a great artificial sun glowing at the

top, and under it in illuminated characters the words “Vitoria”

and “Wellington.” The band is playing the new air “The Plains

of Vitoria.”

All round the colonnade of the rotunda are to be read in the

illumination the names of Peninsular victories, underneath them

figuring the names of British and Spanish generals who led at

those battles, surmounted by wreaths of laurel The avenues

stretching away from the rotunda into the gardens charm the eyes

with their mild multitudinous lights, while festoons of lamps

hang from the trees elsewhere, and transparencies representing

scenes from the war.

The gardens and saloons are crowded, among those present being the

KING'S sons--the DUKES OF YORK, CLARENCE, KENT, and CAMBRIDGE--

Ambassadors, peers, and peeresses, and other persons of quality,

English and foreign.

In the immediate foreground on the left hand is an alcove, the

interior of which is in comparative obscurity. Two foreign

attaches enter it and sit down.]

FIRST ATTACHE

Ah--now for the fireworks. They are under the direction of Colonel

Congreve.

[At the end of an alley, purposely kept dark, fireworks are

discharged.]

SECOND ATTACHE

Very good: very good.--This looks like the Duke of Sussex coming in,

I think. Who the lady is with him I don't know.

[Enter the DUKE OF SUSSEX in a Highland dress, attended by several

officers in like attire. He walks about the gardens with LADY

CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL.]

FIRST ATTACHE

People have been paying a mighty price for tickets--as much as

fifteen guineas has been offered, I hear. I had to walk up to the

gates; the number of coaches struggling outside prevented my driving

near. It was as bad as the battle of Vitoria itself.

SECOND ATTACHE

So Wellington is made Field-Marshal for his achievement.

FIRST ATTACHE

Yes. By the by, you have heard of the effect of the battle upon

the Conference at Reichenbach?--that Austria is to join Russia and

Prussia against France? So much for Napoleon's marriage! I wonder

what he thinks of his respected father-in-law now.

SECOND ATTACHE

Of course, an enormous subsidy is paid to Francis by Great Britain

for this face-about?

FIRST ATTACHE

Yes. As Bonaparte says, English guineas are at the bottom of

everything!--Ah, here comes Caroline.

[The PRINCESS OF WALES arrives, attended by LADY ANNE HAMILTON

and LADY GLENBERVIE. She is conducted forward by the DUKE OF

GLOUCESTER and COLONEL ST. LEDGER, and wears a white satin train

with a dark embroidered bodice, and a green wreath with diamonds.

Repeated hurrahs greet her from the crowd. She bows courteously.]

SECOND ATTACHE

The people are staunch for her still!... You heard, sir, what

Austrian Francis said when he learnt of Vitoria?--“A warm climate

seems to agree with my son-in-law no better than a cold one.”

FIRST ATTACHE

Ha-ha-ha!

Marvellous it is how this loud victory

Has couched the late blind Europe's Cabinets.

Would I could spell precisely what was phrased

'Twixt Bonaparte and Metternich at Dresden--

Their final word, I ween, till God knows when!--

SECOND ATTACHE

I own to feeling it a sorry thing

That Francis should take English money down

To throw off Bonaparte. 'Tis sordid, mean!

He is his daughter's husband after all.

FIRST ATTACHE

Ay; yes!... They say she knows not of it yet.

SECOND ATTACHE

Poor thing, I daresay it will harry her

When all's revealed. But the inside o't is,

Since Castlereagh's return to power last year

Vienna, like Berlin and Petersburg,

Has harboured England's secret emissaries,

Primed, purse in hand, with the most lavish sums

To knit the league to drag Napoleon down....

[More fireworks.] That's grand.--Here comes one Royal item more.

[The DUCHESS OF YORK enters, attended by her ladies and by the

HON. B. CRAVEN and COLONEL BARCLAY. She is received with signals

of respect.]

FIRST ATTACHE

She calls not favour forth as Caroline can!

SECOND ATTACHE

To end my words:--Though happy for this realm,

Austria's desertion frankly is, by God,

Rank treachery!

FIRST ATTACHE

Whatever it is, it means

Two hundred thousand swords for the Allies,

And enemies in batches for Napoleon

Leaping from unknown lairs.--Yes, something tells me

That this is the beginning of the end

For Emperor Bonaparte!

[The PRINCESS OF WALES prepares to leave. An English diplomatist

joins the attaches in the alcove. The PRINCESS and her ladies go

out.]

DIPLOMATIST

I saw you over here, and I came round. Cursed hot and crowded, isn't

it?

SECOND ATTACHE

What is the Princess leaving so soon for?

DIPLOMATIST

Oh, she has not been received in the Royal box by the other members

of the Royal Family, and it has offended her, though she was told

beforehand that she could not be. Poor devil! Nobody invited her

here. She came unasked, and she has gone unserved.

FIRST ATTACHE

We shall have to go unserved likewise, I fancy. The scramble at the

buffets is terrible.

DIPLOMATIST

And the road from here to Marsh Gate is impassable. Some ladies have

been sitting in their coaches for hours outside the hedge there. We

shall not get home till noon to-morrow.

A VOICE [from the back]

Take care of your watches! Pickpockets!

FIRST ATTACHE

Good. That relieves the monotony a little.

[Excitement in the throng. When it has subsided the band strikes

up a country dance, and stewards with white ribbons and laurel

leaves are seen bustling about.]

SECOND ATTACHE

Let us go and look at the dancing. It is “Voulez-vous danser”--no,

it is not,--it is “Enrico”--two ladies between two gentlemen.

[They go from the alcove.]

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

From this phantasmagoria let us roam

To the chief wheel and capstan of the show,

Distant afar. I pray you closely read

What I reveal--wherein each feature bulks

In measure with its value humanly.

[The beholder finds himself, as it were, caught up on high, and

while the Vauxhall scene still dimly twinkles below, he gazes

southward towards Central Europe--the contorted and attenuated

ecorche of the Continent appearing as in an earlier scene, but

now obscure under the summer stars.]

Three cities loom out large: Vienna there,

Dresden, which holds Napoleon, over here,

And Leipzig, whither we shall shortly wing,

Out yonderwards. 'Twixt Dresden and Vienna

What thing do you discern?

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Something broad-faced,

Flat-folded, parchment-pale, and in its shape

Rectangular; but moving like a cloud

The Dresden way.

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Yet gaze more closely on it.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

The object takes a letter's lineaments

Though swollen to mainsail measure,--magically,

I gather from your words; and on its face

Are three vast seals, red--signifying blood

Must I suppose? It moves on Dresden town,

And dwarfs the city as it passes by.--

You say Napoleon's there?

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

The document,

Sized to its big importance, as I told,

Bears in it formal declaration, signed,

Of war by Francis with his late-linked son,

The Emperor of France. Now let us go

To Leipzig city, and await the blow.

[A chaotic gloom ensues, accompanied by a rushing like that of a

mighty wind.]

ACT THIRD

SCENE I

LEIPZIG. NAPOLEON'S QUARTERS IN THE REUDNITZ SUBURB

[The sitting-room of a private mansion. Evening. A large stove-

fire and candles burning. The October wind is heard without, and

the leaded panes of the old windows shake mournfully.]

SEMICHORUS I OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music]

We come; and learn as Time's disordered dear sands run

That Castlereagh's diplomacy has wiled, waxed, won.

The beacons flash the fevered news to eyes keen bent

That Austria's formal words of war are shaped, sealed, sent.

SEMICHORUS II

So; Poland's three despoilers primed by Bull's gross pay

To stem Napoleon's might, he waits the weird dark day;

His proffered peace declined with scorn, in fell force then

They front him, with yet ten-score thousand more massed men.

[At the back of the room CAULAINCOURT, DUKE OF VICENZA, and

JOUANNE, one of Napoleon's confidential secretaries, are unpacking

and laying out the Emperor's maps and papers. In the foreground

BERTHIER, MURAT, LAURISTON, and several officers of Napoleon's

suite, are holding a desultory conversation while they await his

entry. Their countenances are overcast.]

MURAT

At least, the scheme of marching on Berlin

Is now abandoned.

LAURISTON

Not without high words:

He yielded and gave order prompt for Leipzig

But coldness and reserve have marked his mood

Towards us ever since.

BERTHIER

The march hereto

He has looked on as a retrogressive one,

And that, he ever holds, is courting woe.

To counsel it was doubtless full of risk,

And heaped us with responsibilities;

--Yet 'twas your missive, sire, that settled it [to MURAT].

How stirred he was! “To Leipzig, or Berlin?”

He kept repeating, as he drew and drew

Fantastic figures on the foolscap sheet,--

“The one spells ruin--t'other spells success,

And which is which?”

MURAT [stiffly]

What better could I do?

So far were the Allies from sheering off

As he supposed, that they had moved in march

Full fanfare hither! I was duty-bound

To let him know.

LAURISTON

Assuming victory here,

If he should let the advantage slip him by

As on the Dresden day, he wrecks us all!

'Twas damnable--to ride back from the fight

Inside a coach, as though we had not won!

CAULAINCOURT [from the back]

The Emperor was ill: I have ground for knowing.

[NAPOLEON enters.]

NAPOLEON [buoyantly]

Comrades, the outlook promises us well!

MURAT [dryly]

Right glad are we you tongue such tidings, sire.

To us the stars have visaged differently;

To wit: we muster outside Leipzig here

Levies one hundred and ninety thousand strong.

The enemy has mustered, OUTSIDE US,

Three hundred and fifty thousand--if not more.

NAPOLEON

All that is needful is to conquer them!

We are concentred here: they lie a-spread,

Which shrinks them to two-hundred-thousand power:--

Though that the urgency of victory

Is absolute, I admit.

MURAT

Yea; otherwise

The issue will be worse than Moscow, sire!

[MARMONT, DUKE OF RAGUSA [Wellington's adversary in Spain], is

announced, and enters.]

NAPOLEON

Ah, Marmont; bring you in particulars?

MARMONT

Some sappers I have taken captive, sire,

Say the Allies will be at stroke with us

The morning next to to-morrow's.--I am come,

Now, from the steeple-top of Liebenthal,

Where I beheld the enemy's fires bespot

The horizon round with raging eyes of flame:--

My vanward posts, too, have been driven in,

And I need succours--thrice ten thousand, say.

NAPOLEON [coldly]

The enemy vexes not your vanward posts;

You are mistaken.--Now, however, go;

Cross Leipzig, and remain as the reserve.--

Well, gentlemen, my hope herein is this:

The first day to annihilate Schwarzenberg,

The second Blücher. So shall we slip the toils

They are all madding to enmesh us in.

BERTHIER

Few are our infantry to fence with theirs!

NAPOLEON [cheerfully]

We'll range them in two lines instead of three,

And so we shall look stronger by one-third.

BERTHIER [incredulously]

Can they be thus deceived, sire?

NAPOLEON

Can they? Yes!

With all my practice I can err in numbers

At least one-quarter; why not they one-third?

Anyhow, 'tis worth trying at a pinch....

[AUGEREAU is suddenly announced.]

Good! I've not seen him yet since he arrived.

[Enter AUGEREAU.

Here you are then at last, old Augereau!

You have been looked for long.--But you are no more

The Augereau of Castiglione days!

AUGEREAU

Nay, sire! I still should be the Augereau

Of glorious Castiglione, could you give

The boys of Italy back again to me!

NAPOLEON

Well, let it drop.... Only I notice round me

An atmosphere of scopeless apathy

Wherein I do not share.

AUGEREAU

There are reasons, sire,

Good reasons for despondence! As I came

I learnt, past question, that Bavaria

Swerves on the very pivot of desertion.

This adds some threescore thousand to our foes.

NAPOLEON [irritated]

That consummation long has threatened us!...

Would that you showed the steeled fidelity

You used to show! Except me, all are slack!

[To Murat] Why, even you yourself, my brother-in-law,

Have been inclining to abandon me!

MURAT [vehemently]

I, sire? It is not so. I stand and swear

The grievous imputation is untrue.

You should know better than believe these things,

And well remember I have enemies

Who ever wait to slander me to you!

NAPOLEON [more calmly]

Ah yes, yes. That is so.--And yet--and yet

You have deigned to weigh the feasibility

Of treating me as Austria has done!...

But I forgive you. You are a worthy man;

You feel real friendship for me. You are brave.

Yet I was wrong to make a king of you.

If I had been content to draw the line

At vice-king, as with young Eugene, no more,

As he has laboured you'd have laboured, too!

But as full monarch, you have foraged rather

For your own pot than mine!

[MURAT and the marshal are silent, and look at each other with

troubled countenances. NAPOLEON goes to the table at the back, and

bends over the charts with CAULAINCOURT, dictating desultory notes

to the secretaries.]

SPIRIT IRONIC

A seer might say

This savours of a sad Last-Supper talk

'Twixt his disciples and this Christ of war!

[Enter an attendant.]

ATTENDANT

The Saxon King and Queen and the Princess

Enter the city gates, your Majesty.

They seek the shelter of the civic walls

Against the risk of capture by Allies.

NAPOLEON

Ah, so? My friend Augustus, is he near?

I will be prompt to meet him when he comes,

And safely quarter him. [He returns to the map.]

[An interval. The clock strikes midnight. The EMPEROR rises

abruptly, sighs, and comes forward.]

I now retire,

Comrades. Good-night, good-night. Remember well

All must prepare to grip with gory death

In the now voidless battle. It will be

A great one and a critical; one, in brief,

That will seal France's fate, and yours, and mine!

ALL [fervidly]

We'll do our utmost, by the Holy Heaven!

NAPOLEON

Ah--what was that? [He pulls back the window-curtain.]

SEVERAL

It is our enemies,

Whose southern hosts are signalling to their north.

[A white rocket is beheld high in the air. It is followed by a

second, and a third. There is a pause, during which NAPOLEON and

the rest wait motionless. In a minute or two, from the opposite

side of the city, three coloured rockets are sent up, in evident

answer to the three white ones. NAPOLEON muses, and lets the

curtain drop.]

NAPOLEON

Yes, Schwarzenberg to Blücher.... It must be

To show that they are ready. So are we!

[He goes out without saying more. The marshals and other officers

withdraw. The room darkens and ends the scene.]

SCENE II

THE SAME. THE CITY AND THE BATTLEFIELD

[Leipzig is viewed in aerial perspective from a position above the

south suburbs, and reveals itself as standing in a plain, with

rivers and marshes on the west, north, and south of it, and higher

ground to the east and south-east.

At this date it is somewhat in she shape of the letter D, the

straight part of which is the river Pleisse. Except as to this

side it is surrounded by armies--the inner horseshoe of them

being the French defending the city; the outer horseshoe being

the Allies about to attack it.

Far over the city--as it were at the top of the D--at Lindenthal,

we see MARMONT stationed to meet BLÜCHER when he arrives on that

side. To the right of him is NEY, and further off to the right,

on heights eastward, MACDONALD. Then round the curve towards the

south in order, AUGEREAU, LAURISTON [behind whom is NAPOLEON

himself and the reserve of Guards], VICTOR [at Wachau], and

PONIATOWSKI, near the Pleisse River at the bottom of the D. Near

him are the cavalry of KELLERMANN and MILHAUD, and in the same

direction MURAT with his, covering the great avenues of approach

on the south.

Outside all these stands SCHWARZENBERG'S army, of which, opposed

to MACDONALD and LAURISTON, are KLEINAU'S Austrians and ZIETEN'S

Prussians, covered on the flank by Cossacks under PLATOFF.

Opposed to VICTOR and PONIATOWSKI are MEERFELDT and Hesse-Homburg's

Austrians, WITTGENSTEIN'S Russians, KLEIST'S Prussians, GUILAY'S

Austrians, with LICHTENSTEIN'S and THIELMANN'S light troops: thus

reaching round across the Elster into the morass on our near left--

the lower point of the D.]

SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS [aerial music]

This is the combat of Napoleon's hope,

But not of his assurance! Shrunk in power

He broods beneath October's clammy cope,

While hemming hordes wax denser every hour.

SEMICHORUS II

He knows, he knows that though in equal fight

He stand s heretofore the matched of none,

A feeble skill is propped by numbers' might,

And now three hosts close round to crush out one!

DUMB SHOW

The Leipzig clocks imperturbably strike nine, and the battle which

is to decide the fate of Europe, and perhaps the world, begins with

three booms from the line of the allies. They are the signal for

a general cannonade of devastating intensity.

So massive is the contest that we soon fail to individualize the

combatants as beings, and can only observe them as amorphous drifts,

clouds, and waves of conscious atoms, surging and rolling together;

can only particularize them by race, tribe, and language.

Nationalities from the uttermost parts of Asia here meet those from

the Atlantic edge of Europe for the first and last time. By noon

the sound becomes a loud droning, uninterrupted and breve-like, as

from the pedal of an organ kept continuously down.

CHORUS OF RUMOURS

Now triple battle beats about the town,

And now contracts the huge elastic ring

Of fighting flesh, as those within go down,

Or spreads, as those without show faltering!

It becomes apparent that the French have a particular intention,

the Allies only a general one. That of the French is to break

through the enemy's centre and surround his right. To this end

NAPOLEON launches fresh columns, and simultaneously OUDINOT supports

VICTOR against EUGENE OF WURTEMBERG'S right, while on the other

side of him the cavalry of MILHAUD and KELLERMAN prepares to charge.

NAPOLEON'S combination is successful, and drives back EUGENE.

Meanwhile SCHWARZENBERG is stuck fast, useless in the marshes

between the Pleisse and the Elster.

By three o'clock the Allied centre, which has held out against the

assaults of the French right and left, is broken through by cavalry

under MURAT, LATOUR-MAUBOURG, and KELLERMANN.

The bells of Leipzig ring.

CHORUS OF THE PITIES

Those chimings, ill-advised and premature!

Who knows if such vast valour will endure?

The Austro-Russians are withdrawn from the marshes by SCHWARZENBERG.

But the French cavalry also get entangled in the swamps, and

simultaneously MARMONT is beaten at Mockern.

Meanwhile NEY, to the north of Leipzig, having heard the battle

raging southward, leaves his position to assist it. He has nearly

arrived when he hears BLÜCHER attacking at the point he came from,

and sends back some of his divisions.

BERTRAND has kept open the west road to Lindenau and the Rhine, the

only French line of retreat.

Evening finds the battle a drawn one. With the nightfall three blank

shots reverberate hollowly.

SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS

They sound to say that, for this moaning night,

As Nature sleeps, so too shall sleep the fight;

Neither the victor.

SEMICHORUS II

But, for France and him,

Half-won is losing!

CHORUS

Yea, his hopes drop dim,

Since nothing less than victory to-day

Had saved a cause whose ruin is delay!

The night gets thicker and no more is seen.

SCENE III

THE SAME, FROM THE TOWER OF THE PLEISSENBURG

[The tower commands a view of a great part of the battlefield.

Day has just dawned, and citizens, saucer-eyed from anxiety and

sleeplessness, are discover watching.]

FIRST CITIZEN

The wind increased at midnight while I watched,

With flapping showers, and clouds that combed the moon,

Till dawn began outheaving this huge day,

Pallidly--as if scared by its own issue;

This day that the Allies with bonded might

Have vowed to deal their felling finite blow.

SECOND CITIZEN

So must it be! They have welded close the coop

Wherein our luckless Frenchmen are enjailed

With such compression that their front has shrunk

From five miles' farness to but half as far.--

Men say Napoleon made resolve last night

To marshal a retreat. If so, his way

Is by the Bridge of Lindenau.

[They look across in the cold east light at the long straight

causeway from the Ranstadt Gate at the north-west corner of the

town, and the Lindenau bridge over the Elster beyond.]

FIRST CITIZEN

Last night I saw, like wolf-packs, hosts appear

Upon the Dresden road; and then, anon,

The already stout arrays of Schwarzenberg

Grew stoutened more. I witnessed clearly, too,

Just before dark, the bands of Bernadotte

Come, hemming in the north more thoroughly.

The horizon glowered with a thousand fires

As the unyielding circle shut around.

[As it grows light they scan and define the armies.]

THIRD CITIZEN

Those lying there, 'twixt Connewitz and Dolitz,

Are the right wing of horse Murat commands.

Next, Poniatowski, Victor, and the rest.

Out here, Napoleon's centre at Probstheida,

Where he has bivouacked. Those round this way

Are his left wing with Ney, that face the north

Between Paunsdorf and Gohlis.--Thus, you see

They are skilfully sconced within the villages,

With cannon ranged in front. And every copse,

Dingle, and grove is packed with riflemen.

[The heavy sky begins to clear with the full arrival of the

morning. The sun bursts out, and the previously dark and gloomy

masses glitter in the rays. It is now seven o'clock, and with the

shining of the sun, the battle is resumed.

The army of Bohemia to the south and east, in three great columns,

marches concentrically upon NAPOLEON'S new and much-contracted line

--the first column of thirty-five thousand under BENNIGSEN; the

second, the central, forty-five thousand under BARCLAY DE TOLLY;

the third, twenty-five thousand under the PRINCE OF HESSE-HOMBURG.

An interval of suspense.]

FIRST CITIZEN

Ah, see! The French bend, falter, and fall back.

[Another interval. Then a huge rumble of artillery resounds from

the north.]

SEMICHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music]

Now Blücher has arrived; and now falls to!

Marmont withdraws before him. Bernadotte

Touching Bennigsen, joins attack with him,

And Ney must needs recede. This serves as sign

To Schwarzenberg to bear upon Probstheida--

Napoleon's keystone and dependence here.

But for long whiles he fails to win his will,

The chief being nigh--outmatching might with skill.

SEMICHORUS II

Ney meanwhile, stung still sharplier, still withdraws

Nearer the town, and met by new mischance,

Finds him forsaken by his Saxon wing--

Fair files of thrice twelve thousand footmanry.

But rallying those still true with signs and calls,

He warely closes up his remnant to the walls.

SEMICHORUS I

Around Probstheida still the conflict rolls

Under Napoleon's eye surpassingly.

Like sedge before the scythe the sections fall

And bayonets slant and reek. Each cannon-blaze

Makes the air thick with human limbs; while keen

Contests rage hand to hand. Throats shout “advance,”

And forms walm, wallow, and slack suddenly.

Hot ordnance split and shiver and rebound,

And firelocks fouled and flintless overstrew the ground.

SEMICHORUS II

At length the Allies, daring tumultuously,

Find them inside Probstheida. There is fixed

Napoleon's cardinal and centre hold.

But need to loose it grows his gloomy fear

As night begins to brown and treacherous mists appear.

CHORUS

Then, on the three fronts of this reaching field,

A furious, far, and final cannonade

Burns from two thousand mouths and shakes the plain,

And hastens the sure end! Towards the west

Bertrand keeps open the retreating-way,

Along which wambling waggons since the noon

Have crept in closening file. Dusk draws around;

The marching remnants drowse amid their talk,

And worn and harrowed horses slumber as the walk.

[In the darkness of the distance spread cries from the maimed

animals and the wounded men. Multitudes of the latter contrive to

crawl into the city, until the streets are full of them. Their

voices are heard calling.]

SECOND CITIZEN

They cry for water! Let us go down,

And do what mercy may.

[Exeunt citizens from the tower.]

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

A fire is lit

Near to the Thonberg wind-wheel. Can it be

Napoleon tarries yet? Let us go see.

[The distant firelight becomes clearer and closer.]

SCENE IV

THE SAME. AT THE THONBERG WINDMILL

[By the newly lighted fire NAPOLEON is seen walking up and down,

much agitated and worn. With him are MURAT, BERTHIER, AUGEREAU,

VICTOR, and other marshals of corps that have been engaged in this

part of the field--all perspiring, muddy, and fatigued.]

NAPOLEON

Baseness so gross I had not guessed of them!--

The thirty thousand false Bavarians

I looked on losing not unplacidly;

But these troth-swearing sober Saxonry

I reckoned staunch by virtue of their king!

Thirty-five thousand and gone! It magnifies

A failure into a catastrophe....

Murat, we must retreat precipitately,

And not as hope had dreamed! Begin it then

This very hour.--Berthier, write out the orders.--

Let me sit down.

[A chair is brought out from the mill. NAPOLEON sinks into it, and

BERTHIER, stooping over the fire, begins writing to the Emperor's

dictation, the marshals looking with gloomy faces at the flaming

logs.

NAPOLEON has hardly dictated a line when he stops short. BERTHIER

turns round and finds that he has dropt asleep.]

MURAT [sullenly]

Far better not disturb him;

He'll soon enough awake!

[They wait, muttering to one another in tones expressing weary

indifference to issues. NAPOLEON sleeps heavily for a quarter of

and hour, during which the moon rises over the field. At the end

he starts up stares around him with astonishment.]

NAPOLEON

Am I awake?

Or is this all a dream?--Ah, no. Too real!...

And yet I have seen ere now a time like this.

[The dictation is resumed. While it is in progress there can be

heard between the words of NAPOLEON the persistent cries from the

plain, rising and falling like those of a vast rookery far away,

intermingled with the trampling of hoofs and the rumble of wheels.

The bivouac fires of the engirdling enemy glow all around except

for a small segment to the west--the track of retreat, still kept

open by BERTRAND, and already taken by the baggage-waggons.

The orders for its adoption by the entire army being completed,

NAPOLEON bids adieu to his marshals, and rides with BERTHIER and

CAULAINCOURT into Leipzig. Exeunt also the others.]

SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES

Now, as in the dream of one sick to death,

There comes a narrowing room

That pens him, body and limbs and breath,

To wait a hideous doom,

SEMICHORUS II

So to Napoleon in the hush

That holds the town and towers

Through this dire night, a creeping crush

Seems inborne with the hours.

[The scene closes under a rimy mist, which makes a lurid cloud of

the firelights.]

SCENE V

THE SAME. A STREET NEAR THE RANSTADT GATE

[High old-fashioned houses form the street, along which, from the

east of the city, is streaming a confusion of waggons, in hurried

exit through the gate westward upon the highroad to Lindenau,

Lutzen, and the Rhine.

In front of an inn called the “Prussian Arms” are some attendants

of NAPOLEON waiting with horses.]

FIRST OFFICER

He has just come from bidding the king and queen

A long good-bye.... Is it that they will pay

For his indulgence of their past ambition

By sharing now his ruin? Much the king

Did beg him to leave them to their lot,

And shun the shame of capture needlessly.

[He looks anxiously towards the door.]

I would he'd haste! Each minute is of price.

SECOND OFFICER

The king will come to terms with the Allies.

They will not hurt him. Though he has lost his all,

His case is not like ours!

[The cheers of the approaching enemy grow louder. NAPOLEON comes

out from the “Prussian Arms,” haggard and in disordered attire.

He is about to mount, but, perceiving the blocked state of the

street, he hesitates.]

NAPOLEON

God, what a crowd!

I shall more quickly gain the gate afoot.

There is a byway somewhere, I suppose?

[A citizen approaches out of the inn.]

CITIZEN

This alley, sire, will speed you to the gate;

I shall be honoured much to point the way.

NAPOLEON

Then do, good friend. [To attendants] Bring on the horses there;

I if arrive soonest I will wait for you.

[The citizen shows NAPOLEON the way into the alley.]

CITIZEN

A garden's at the end, your Majesty,

Through which you pass. Beyond there is a door

That opens to the Elster bank unbalked.

[NAPOLEON disappears into the alley. His attendants plunge amid

the traffic with the horses, and thread their way down the street.

Another citizen comes from the door of the inn and greets the

first.]

FIRST CITIZEN

He's gone!

SECOND CITIZEN

I'll see if he succeed.

[He re-enters the inn and soon appears at an upper window.]

FIRST CITIZEN [from below]

You see him?

SECOND CITIZEN [gazing]

He is already at the garden-end;

Now he has passed out to the river-brim,

And plods along it toward the Ranstadt Gate....

He finds no horses for him!... And the crowd

Thrusts him about, none recognizing him.

Ah--now the horses do arrive. He mounts,

And hurries through the arch.... Again I see him--

Now he's upon the causeway in the marsh;

Now rides across the bridge of Lindenau...

And now, among the troops that choke the road

I lose all sight of him.

[A third citizen enters from the direction NAPOLEON has taken.]

THIRD CITIZEN [breathlessly]

I have seen him go!

And while he passed the gate I stood i' the crowd

So close I could have touched him! Few discerned

In one so soiled the erst Arch-Emperor!--

In the lax mood of him who has lost all

He stood inert there, idly singing thin:

“Malbrough s'en va-t-en guerre!”--until his suite

Came up with horses.

SECOND CITIZEN [still gazing afar]

Poniatowski's Poles

Wearily walk the level causeway now;

Also, meseems, Macdonald's corps and Reynier's.

The frail-framed, new-built bridge has broken down:

They've but the old to cross by.

FIRST CITIZEN

Feeble foresight!

They should have had a dozen.

SECOND CITIZEN

All the corps--

Macdonald's, Poniatowski's, Reynier's--all--

Confusedly block the entrance to the bridge.

And--verily Blücher's troops are through the town,

And are debouching from the Ranstadt Gate

Upon the Frenchmen's rear!

[A thunderous report stops his words, echoing through the city from

the direction in which he is gazing, and rattling all the windows.

A hoarse chorus of cries becomes audible immediately after.]

FIRST, THIRD, ETC., CITIZENS

Ach, Heaven!--what's that?

SECOND CITIZEN

The bridge of Lindenau has been upblown!

SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music]

There leaps to the sky and earthen wave,

And stones, and men, as though

Some rebel churchyard crew updrave

Their sepulchres from below.

SEMICHORUS II

To Heaven is blown Bridge Lindenau;

Wrecked regiments reel therefrom;

And rank and file in masses plough

The sullen Elster-Strom.

SEMICHORUS I

A gulf is Lindenau; and dead

Are fifties, hundreds, tens;

And every current ripples red

With marshals' blood and men's.

SEMICHORUS II

The smart Macdonald swims therein,

And barely wins the verge;

Bold Poniatowski plunges in

Never to re-emerge!

FIRST CITIZEN

Are not the French across as yet, God save them?

SECOND CITIZEN [still gazing above]

Nor Reynier's corps, Macdonald's, Lauriston's,

Nor yet the Poles.... And Blücher's troops approach,

And all the French this side are prisoners.

--Now for our handling by the Prussian host;

Scant courtesy for our king!

[Other citizens appear beside him at the window, and further

conversation continues entirely above.]

CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS

The Battle of the Nations now is closing,

And all is lost to One, to many gained;

The old dynastic routine reimposing,

The new dynastic structure unsustained.

Now every neighbouring realm is France's warder,

And smirking satisfaction will be feigned:

The which is seemlier?--so-called ancient order,

Or that the hot-breath'd war-horse ramp unreined?

[The October night thickens and curtains the scene.]

SCENE VI

THE PYRENEES. NEAR THE RIVER NIVELLE

[Evening. The dining-room of WELLINGTON'S quarters. The table is

laid for dinner. The battle of the Nivelle has just been fought.

Enter WELLINGTON, HILL, BERESFORD, STEWART, HOPE, CLINTON, COLBORNE,

COLE, KEMPT [with a bound-up wound], and other officers.

WELLINGTON

It is strange that they did not hold their grand position more

tenaciously against us to-day. By God, I don't quite see why we

should have beaten them!

COLBORNE

My impression is that they had the stiffness taken out of them by

something they had just heard of. Anyhow, startling news of some

kind was received by those of the Eighty-eighth we took in the

signal-redoubt after I summoned the Commandant.

WELLINGTON

Oh, what news?

COLBORNE

I cannot say, my lord, I only know that the latest number of the

_Imperial Gazette_ was seen in the hands of some of them before the

capture. They had been reading the contents, and were cast down.

WELLINGTON

That's interesting. I wonder what the news could have been?

HILL

Something about Boney's army in Saxony would be most probable.

Though I question if there's time yet for much to have been

decided there.

BERESFORD

Well, I wouldn't say that. A hell of a lot of things may have

happened there by this time.

COLBORNE

It was tantalizing, but they were just able to destroy the paper

before we could prevent them.

WELLINGTON

Did you question them?

COLBORNE

Oh yes. But they stayed sulking at being taken, and would tell us

nothing, pretending that they knew nothing. Whether much were going

on, they said, or little, between the army of the Emperor and the

army of the Allies, it was none of their business to relate it; so

they kept a gloomy silence for the most part.

WELLINGTON

They will cheer up a bit and be more communicative when they have had

some dinner.

COLE

They are dining here, my lord?

WELLINGTON

I sent them an invitation an hour ago, which they have accepted.

I could do no less, poor devils. They'll be here in a few minutes.

See that they have plenty of Madeira to whet their whistles with.

It well screw them up into a better key, and they'll not be so

reserved.

[The conversation on the day's battle becomes general. Enter as

guests French officers of the Eighty-eighth regiment now prisoners

on parole. They are welcomed by WELLINGTON and the staff, and all

sit down to dinner.

For some time the meal proceeds almost in silence; but wine is

passed freely, and both French and English officers become

talkative and merry.

WELLINGTON [to the French Commandant]

More cozy this, sir, than--I'll warrant me--

You found it in that damned redoubt to-day?

COMMANDANT

The devil if 'tis not, monseigneur, sure!

WELLINGTON

So 'tis for us who were outside, by God!

COMMANDANT [gloomily]

No; we were not at ease! Alas, my lord,

'Twas more than flesh and blood could do, to fight

After such paralyzing tidings came.

More life may trickle out of men through thought

Than through a gaping wound.

WELLINGTON

Your reference

Bears on the news from Saxony, I infer?

SECOND FRENCH OFFICER

Yes: on the Emperor's ruinous defeat

At Leipzig city--brought to our startled heed

By one of the _Gazettes_ just now arrived.

[All the English officers stop speaking, and listen eagerly.]

WELLINGTON

Where are the Emperor's headquarters now?

COMMANDANT

My lord, there are no headquarters.

WELLINGTON

No headquarters?

COMMANDANT

There are no French headquarters now, my lord,

For there is no French army! France's fame

Is fouled. And how, then, could we fight to-day

With our hearts in our shoes!

WELLINGTON

Why, that bears out

What I but lately said; it was not like

The brave men who have faced and foiled me here

So many a long year past, to give away

A stubborn station quite so readily.

BERESFORD

And what, messieurs, ensued at Leipzig then?

SEVERAL FRENCH OFFICERS

Why, sirs, should we conceal it? Thereupon

Part of our army took the Lutzen road;

Behind a blown-up bridge. Those in advance

Arrived at Lutzen with the Emperor--

The scene of our once famous victory!

In such sad sort retreat was hurried on,

Erfurt was gained with Blücher hot at heel.

To cross the Rhine seemed then our only hope;

Alas, the Austrians and the Bavarians

Faced us in Hanau Forest, led by Wrede,

And dead-blocked our escape.

WELLINGTON

Ha. Did they though?

SECOND FRENCH OFFICER

But if brave hearts were ever desperate,

Sir, we were desperate then! We pierced them through,

Our loss unrecking. So by Frankfurt's walls

We fared to Mainz, and there recrossed the Rhine.

A funeral procession, so we seemed,

Upon the long bridge that had rung so oft

To our victorious feet!... What since has coursed

We know not, gentlemen. But this we know,

That Germany echoes no French footfall!

AN ENGLISH OFFICER

One sees not why it should.

SECOND FRENCH OFFICER

We'll leave it so.

[Conversation on the Leipzig disaster continues till the dinner

ends The French prisoners courteously take their leave and go

out.]

WELLINGTON

Very good set of fellows. I could wish

They all were mine!...Well, well; there was no crime

In trying to ascertain these fat events:

They would have sounded soon from other tongues.

HILL

It looks like the first scene of act the last

For our and all men's foe!

WELLINGTON

I count to meet

The Allies upon the cobble-stones of Paris

Before another half-year's suns have shone.

--But there's some work for us to do here yet:

The dawn must find us fording the Nivelle!

[Exeunt WELLINGTON and officers. The room darkens.]

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.