by Thomas Hardy
In Europe all is past and over with me....
Yes—all is lost in Europe for me now!
BERTRAND
I fear so, sire.
NAPOLEON [after some moments]
But Asia waits a man,
And—who can tell?
OFFICER OF GUARD [to postillions]
Ahead now at full speed,
And slacken not till you have slipped the town.
[The postillions urge the horses to a gallop, and the carriages
are out of sight in a few seconds. The scene shuts.]
SCENE VII
MALMAISON. THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE'S BEDCHAMBER
[The walls are in white panels, with gilt mouldings, and the
furniture is upholstered in white silk with needle-worked flowers.
The long windows and the bed are similarly draped, and the toilet
service is of gold. Through the panes appears a broad flat lawn
adorned with vases and figures on pedestals, and entirely
surrounded by trees—just now in their first fresh green under
the morning rays of Whitsunday. The notes of an organ are audible
from a chapel below, where the Pentecostal Mass is proceeding.
JOSEPHINE lies in the bed in an advanced stage of illness, the
ABBE BERTRAND standing beside her. Two ladies-in-waiting are
seated near. By the door into the ante-room, which is ajar,
HOREAU the physician-in-ordinary and BOURDOIS the consulting
physician are engaged in a low conversation.]
HOREAU
Lamoureux says that leeches would have saved her
Had they been used in time, before I came.
In that case, then, why did he wait for me?
BOURDOIS
Such whys are now too late! She is past all hope.
I doubt if aught had helped her. Not disease,
But heart-break and repinings are the blasts
That wither her long bloom. Soon we must tell
The Queen Hortense the worst, and the Viceroy.
HOREAU
Her death was made the easier task for grief
[As I regarded more than probable]
By her rash rising from a sore-sick bed
And donning thin and dainty May attire
To hail King Frederick-William and the Tsar
As banquet-guests, in the old regnant style.
A woman's innocent vanity!—but how dire.
She argued that amenities of State
Compelled the effort, since they had honoured her
By offering to come. I stood against it,
Pleaded and reasoned, but to no account.
Poor woman, what she did or did not do
Was of small moment to the State by then!
The Emperor Alexander has been kind
Throughout his stay in Paris. He came down
But yester-eve, of purpose to inquire.
BOURDOIS
Wellington is in Paris, too, I learn,
After his wasted battle at Toulouse.
HOREAU
Has his Peninsular army come with him?
BOURDOIS
I hear they have shipped it to America,
Where England has another war on hand.
We have armies quite sufficient here already—
Plenty of cooks for Paris broth just now!
—Come, call we Queen Hortense and Prince Eugene.
[Exeunt physicians. The ABBE BERTRAND also goes out. JOSEPHINE
murmurs faintly.]
FIRST LADY [going to the bedside]
I think I heard you speak, your Majesty?
JOSEPHINE
I asked what hour it was—-if dawn or eve?
FIRST LADY
Ten in the morning, Madame. You forget
You asked the same but a brief while ago.
JOSEPHINE
Did I? I thought it was so long ago!...
I wish to go to Elba with him so much,
But the Allies prevented me. And why?
I would not have disgraced him, or themselves!
I would have gone to him at Fontainebleau,
With my eight horses and my household train
In dignity, and quitted him no more....
Although I am his wife no longer now,
I think I should have gone in spite of them,
Had I not feared perversions might be sown
Between him and the woman of his choice
For whom he sacrificed me.
SECOND LADY
It is more
Than she thought fit to do, your Majesty.
JOSEPHINE
Perhaps she was influenced by her father's ire,
Or diplomatic reasons told against her.
And yet I was surprised she should allow
Aught secondary on earth to hold her from
A husband she has outwardly, at least,
Declared attachment to.
FIRST LADY
Especially,
With ever one at hand—his son and hers—
Reminding her of him.
JOSEPHINE
Yes.... Glad am I
I saw that child of theirs, though only once.
But—there was not full truth—not quite, I fear—
In what I told the Emperor that day
He led him to me at Bagatelle,
That 'twas the happiest moment of my life.
I ought not to have said it. No! Forsooth
My feeling had too, too much gall in it
To let truth shape like that!—I also said
That when my arms were round him I forgot
That I was not his mother. So spoke I,
But oh me,—I remembered it too well!—
He was a lovely child; in his fond prate
His father's voice was eloquent. One might say
I am well punished for my sins against him!
SECOND LADY
You have harmed no creature, madame; much less him!
JOSEPHINE
O but you don't quite know!... My coquetries
In our first married years nigh racked him through.
I cannot think how I could wax so wicked!...
He begged me come to him in Italy,
But I liked flirting in fair Paris best,
And would not go. The independent spouse
At that time was myself; but afterwards
I grew to be the captive, he the free.
Always 'tis so: the man wins finally!
My faults I've ransomed to the bottom sou
If ever a woman did!... I'll write to him—
I must—again, so that he understands.
Yes, I'll write now. Get me a pen and paper.
FIRST LADY [to Second Lady]
'Tis futile! She is too far gone to write;
But we must humour her.
[They fetch writing materials. On returning to the bed they find
her motionless. Enter EUGENE and QUEEN HORTENSE. Seeing the state
their mother is in, they fall down on their knees by her bed.
JOSEPHINE recognizes them and smiles. Anon she is able to speak
again.]
JOSEPHINE [faintly]
I am dying, dears;
And do not mind it—notwithstanding that
I feel I die regretted. You both love me!—
And as for France, I ever have desired
Her welfare, as you know—have wrought all things
A woman's scope could reach to forward it....
And to you now who watch my ebbing here,
Declare I that Napoleon's first-chose wife
Has never caused her land a needless tear.
Tell him—these things I have said—bear him my love—
Tell him—I could not write!
[An interval. She spasmodically flings her arms over her son and
daughter, lets them fall, and becomes unconscious. They fetch a
/>
looking-glass, and find that her breathing has ceased. The clock
of the Chateau strikes noon. The scene is veiled.]
SCENE VIII
LONDON. THE OPERA HOUSE
[The house is lighted up with a blaze of wax candles, and a State
performance is about to begin in honour of the Allied sovereigns
now on a visit to England to celebrate the Peace. Peace-devices
adorn the theatre. A band can be heard in the street playing
"The White Cockade."
An extended Royal box has been formed by removing the partitions
of adjoining boxes. It is empty as yet, but the other parts of
the house are crowded to excess, and somewhat disorderly, the
interior doors having been broken down by besiegers, and many
people having obtained admission without payment. The prevalent
costume of the ladies is white satin and diamonds, with a few in
lilac.
The curtain rises on the first act of the opera of "Aristodemo,"
MADAME GRASSINI and SIGNOR TRAMEZZINI being the leading voices.
Scarcely a note of the performance can be heard amid the exclamations
of persons half suffocated by the pressure.
At the end of the first act there follows a divertissement. The
curtain having fallen, a silence of expectation succeeds. It is
a little past ten o'clock.
Enter the Royal box the PRINCE REGENT, accompanied by the EMPEROR
OF RUSSIA, demonstrative in manner now as always, the KING OF
PRUSSIA, with his mien of reserve, and many minor ROYAL PERSONAGES
of Europe. There are moderate acclamations. At their back and in
neighbouring boxes LORD LIVERPOOL, LORD CASTLEREAGH, officers in
the suite of the sovereigns, interpreters, and others take their
places.
The curtain rises again, and the performers are discovered drawn
up in line on the stage. They sing "God save the King." The
sovereigns stand up, bow, and resume their seats amid more
applause.]
A VOICE [from the gallery]
Prinny, where's your wife? [Confusion.]
EMPEROR OF RUSSIA [to Regent]
To which of us is the inquiry addressed, Prince?
PRINCE REGENT
To you, sire, depend upon't—by way of compliment.
[The second act of the Opera proceeds.]
EMPEROR OF RUSSIA
Any later news from Elba, sir?
PRINCE REGENT
Nothing more than rumours, which, 'pon my honour, I can hardly
credit. One is that Bonaparte's valet has written to say the
ex-Emperor is becoming imbecile, and is an object of ridicule to
the inhabitants of the island.
KING OF PRUSSIA
A blessed result, sir, if true. If he is not imbecile he is worse
—planning how to involve Europe in another way. It was a short-
sighted policy to offer him a home so near as to ensure its becoming
a hot-bed of intrigue and conspiracy in no long time!
PRINCE REGENT
The ex-Empress, Marie-Louise, hasn't joined him after all, I learn.
Has she remained at Schonbrunn since leaving France, sires?
EMPEROR OF RUSSIA
Yes, sir; with her son. She must never go back to France. Metternich
and her father will know better than let her do that. Poor young
thing, I am sorry for her all the same. She would have joined
Napoleon if she had been left to herself.—And I was sorry for the
other wife, too. I called at Malmaison a few days before she died.
A charming woman! SHE would have gone to Elba or to the devil with
him. Twenty thousand people crowded down from Paris to see her lying
in state last week.
PRINCE REGENT
Pity she didn't have a child by him, by God.
KING OF PRUSSIA
I don't think the other one's child is going to trouble us much.
But I wish Bonaparte himself had been sent farther away.
PRINCE REGENT
Some of our Government wanted to pack him off to St. Helena—an
island somewhere in the Atlantic, or Pacific, or Great South Sea.
But they were over-ruled. 'Twould have been a surer game.
EMPEROR OF RUSSIA
One hears strange stories of his saying and doings. Some of my
people were telling me to-day that he says it is to Austria that
he really owes his fall, and that he ought to have destroyed her
when he had her in his power.
PRINCE REGENT
Dammy, sire, don't ye think he owes his fall to his ambition to
humble England by rupture of the Peace of Amiens, and trying to
invade us, and wasting his strength against us in the Peninsula?
EMPEROR OF RUSSIA
I incline to think, with the greatest deference, that it was Moscow
that broke him.
KING OF PRUSSIA
The rejection of my conditions in the terms of peace at Prague, sires,
was the turning-point towards his downfall.
[Enter a box on the opposite side of the house the PRINCESS OF
WALES, attended by LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL, SIR W. GELL, and
others. Louder applause now rings through the theatre, drowning
the sweet voice of the GRASSINI in "Aristodemo."]
LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL
It is meant for your Royal Highness!
PRINCESS OF WALES
I don't think so, my dear. Punch's wife is nobody when Punch himself
is present.
LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL
I feel convinced that it is by their looking this way.
SIR W. GELL
Surely ma'am you will acknowledge their affection? Otherwise we may
be hissed.
PRINCESS OF WALES
I know my business better than to take that morsel out of my husband's
mouth. There—you see he enjoys it! I cannot assume that it is
meant for me unless they call my name.
[The PRINCE REGENT rises and bows, the TSAR and the KING OF PRUSSIA
doing the same.]
LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL
He and the others are bowing for you, ma'am!
PRINCESS OF WALES
Mine God, then; I will bow too! [She rises and bends to them.]
PRINCE REGENT
She thinks we rose on her account.—A damn fool. [Aside.]
EMPEROR OF RUSSIA
What—didn't we? I certainly rose in homage to her.
PRINCE REGENT
No, sire. We were supposed to rise to the repeated applause of the
people.
EMPEROR OF RUSSIA
H'm. Your customs sir, are a little puzzling.... [To the King of
Prussia.] A fine-looking woman! I must call upon the Princess of
Wales to-morrow.
KING OF PRUSSIA
I shall, at any rate, send her my respects by my chamberlain.
PRINCE REGENT [stepping back to Lord Liverpool]
By God, Liverpool, we must do something to stop 'em! They don't
know what a laughing-stock they'll make of me if they go to her.
Tell 'em they had better not.
LIVERPOOL
I can hardly tell them now, sir, while we are celebrating the Peace
and Wellington's victories.
PRINCE REGENT
Oh, damn the peace, and damn the war, and damn Boney, and damn
Wellington's victories!—the question is, how am I to get over this
infernal woman!—Well, well,—I must write, or send Tyrwhitt to-
morrow morning, begging them to abandon the
idea of visiting her
for politic reasons.
[The Opera proceeds to the end, and is followed by a hymn and
chorus laudatory to peace. Next a new ballet by MONSIEUR VESTRIS,
in which M. ROZIER and MADAME ANGIOLINI dance a pas-de-deux. Then
the Sovereigns leave the theatre amid more applause.
The pit and gallery now call for the PRINCESS OF WALES unmistakably.
She stand up and is warmly acclaimed, returning three stately
curtseys.]
A VOICE
Shall we burn down Carlton House, my dear, and him in it?
PRINCESS OF WALES
No, my good folks! Be quiet. Go home to your beds, and let me do
the same.
[After some difficulty she gets out of the house. The people thin
away. As the candle-snuffers extinguish the lights a shouting is
heard without.]
VOICES OF CROWD
Long life to the Princess of Wales! Three cheers for a woman wronged!
[The Opera-house becomes lost in darkness.]
ACT FIFTH
SCENE I
ELBA. THE QUAY, PORTO FERRAJO
[Night descends upon a beautiful blue cove, enclosed on three sides
by mountains. The port lies towards the western [right-hand] horn
of the concave, behind it being the buildings of the town; their
long white walls and rows of windows rise tier above tier on the
steep incline at the back, and are intersected by narrow alleys
and flights of steps that lead up to forts on the summit.
Upon a rock between two of these forts stands the Palace of the
Mulini, NAPOLEONS'S residence in Ferrajo. Its windows command
the whole town and the port.]
CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music]
The Congress of Vienna sits,
And war becomes a war of wits,
Where every Power perpends withal
Its dues as large, its friends' as small;
Till Priests of Peace prepare once more
To fight as they have fought before!
In Paris there is discontent;
Medals are wrought that represent
One now unnamed. Men whisper, "He
Who once has been, again will be!"
DUMB SHOW
Under cover of the dusk there assembles in the bay a small flotilla
comprising a brig called l'Inconstant and several lesser vessels.
SPIRIT OF RUMOUR
The guardian on behalf of the Allies
Absents himself from Elba. Slow surmise
Too vague to pen, too actual to ignore,
Have strained him hour by hour, and more and more.
He takes the sea to Florence, to declare
