Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) (1074 page)

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