Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated)

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Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) Page 839

by Thomas Hardy


  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;

&n
bsp; Age has impaired its early promptitude.

  [Ivan shakes his head and rushes away distracted. CAULAINCOURT

  seizes NAPOLEON'S hand.]

  CAULAINCOURT

  Why should you bring this cloud upon us now!

  NAPOLEON

  Restrain your feelings. Let me die in peace.—

  My wife and son I recommend to you;

  Give her this letter, and the packet there.

  Defend my memory, and protect their lives.

  [They shake him. He vomits.]

  CAULAINCOURT

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

  NAPOLEON

  God—here how difficult it is to die:

  How easy on the passionate battle-plain!

  [They open a window and carry him to it. He mends.]

  Fate has resolved what man could not resolve.

  I must live on, and wait what Heaven may send!

  [MACDONALD and other marshals re-enter. A letter is brought from

  MARIE LOUISE. NAPOLEON reads it, and becomes more animated.

  They are well; and they will join me in my exile.

  Yes: I will live! The future who shall spell?

  My wife, my son, will be enough for me.—

  And I will give my hours to chronicling

  In stately words that stir futurity

  The might of our unmatched accomplishments;

  And in the tale immortalize your names

  By linking them with mine.

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

  out. The room is left in darkness.]

  SCENE V

  BAYONNE. THE BRITISH CAMP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  angular structure standing detached. A large and brilliant

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

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

  left horizon as a level line.

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

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

  by the firing of a signal-gun from a battery in the town-wall.

  The eyes of the thousands present rivet themselves on the citadel.

  Its waving tricolor moves down the flagstaff and disappears.]

  THE REGIMENTS [unconsciously]

  Ha-a-a-a!

  [In a few seconds there shoots up the same staff another flag—one

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

  time, it is mildewed and dingy.

  From all the guns on the city fortifications a salute peals out.

  This is responded to by the English infantry and artillery with a

  feu-de-joie.]

  THE REGIMENTS

  Hurrah-h-h-h!

  [The various battalions are then marched away in their respective

  directions and dismissed to their tents. The Bourbon standard is

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

  The scene shuts.]

  SCENE VI

  A HIGHWAY IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF AVIGNON

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

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

  grey light of dawn. In the foreground several postillions

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

  gazing northward and listening for sounds. A few loungers

  have assembled.]

  FIRST POSTILLION

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

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

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

  SECOND POSTILLION

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

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

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

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

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

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

  FIRST POSTILLION

  But now, I don't find fault with that dispensation in particular.

  It was one of our calling that the Emperor so honoured, after all,

  when he might have anointed a tinker, or a ragman, or a street

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

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

  SECOND POSTILLION

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

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

  think over your defence, and I don't mind riding a stage with him,

  for that matter, to save him from them that mean mischief here.

  I've lost no sons by his battles, like some others we know.

  [Enter a TRAVELLER on horseback.]

  Any tidings along the road, sir of the Emperor Napoleon that was?

  TRAVELLER

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

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

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

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

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

  insults. I have hastened ahead to escape the uproar.

  SECOND POSTILLION

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

  up all night for him here.

  MARKET-WOMAN [coming up]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  FIRST POSTILLION

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

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

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

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

  carriage with NAPOLEON and BERTRAND; then others with the

  Commissioners of the Powers,—all on the way to Elba.

  The carriages halt, and the change of horses is set about instantly.

  But before it is half completed BONAPARTE'S arrival gets known, and

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

  Avignon and surround the carriages.]

  POPULACE

  Ogre of Corsica! Odious tyrant! Down with Nicholas!

  BERTRAND [looking out of carriage]

  Silence, and doff your hats, you ill-mannered devils!

  POPULACE [scornfully]

  Listen to him! Is that the Corsican? No; where is he? Give him up;

  give him u
p! We'll pitch him into the Rhone!

  [Some cling to the wheels of NAPOLEON'S carriage, while others,

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

  window.]

  OLD WOMAN [shaking her fist]

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

  flesh is rotting on the Russian plains!

  POPULACE

  Ay; give us back our kin—our fathers, our brothers, our sons—

  victims to your curst ambition!

  [One of the mob seizes the carriage door-handle and tries to

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

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

  Commissioners' coaches open, and SIR NEIL CAMPBELL, GENERAL

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

  Commissioners—jump out and come forward.]

  CAMPBELL

  Keep order, citizens! Do you not know

  That the ex-Emperor is wayfaring

  To a lone isle, in the Allies' sworn care,

  Who have given a pledge to Europe for his safety?

  His fangs being drawn, he is left powerless now

  To do you further harm.

  SCHUVALOFF

  People of France

  Can you insult so miserable a being?

  He who gave laws to a cowed world stands now

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

  Cannot you see that merely to ignore him

  Is the worst ignominy to tar him with,

  By showing him he's no longer dangerous?

  OLD WOMAN

  How do we know the villain mayn't come back?

  While there is life, my faith, there's mischief in him!

  [Enter an officer with the Town-guard.]

  OFFICER

  Citizens, I am a zealot for the Bourbons,

  As you well know. But wanton breach of faith

  I will not brook. Retire!

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

  Commissioners re-enter their carriages. NAPOLEON puts his head

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

  yellow-faced, and wild-eyed.]

  NAPOLEON

  I thank you, captain;

  Also your soldiery: a thousand thanks!

  [To Bertrand within] My God, these people of Avignon here

  Are headstrong fools, like all the Provencal fold,

  —I won't go through the town!

  BERTRAND

  We'll round it, sire;

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

  You must disguise for the remainder miles.

  NAPOLEON

  I'll mount the white cockade if they invite me!

  What does it matter if I do or don't?

 

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