Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated), page 839
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.
They are well; and they will join me in my exile.
Yes: I will live! The future who shall spell?
My wife, my son, will be enough for me.—
And I will give my hours to chronicling
In stately words that stir futurity
The might of our unmatched accomplishments;
And in the tale immortalize your names
By linking them with mine.
[He soon falls into a convalescent sleep. The marshals, etc. go
out. The room is left in darkness.]
SCENE V
BAYONNE. THE BRITISH CAMP
[The foreground is an elevated stretch of land, dotted over in rows
with the tents of the peninsular army. On a parade immediately
beyond the tents the infantry are drawn up, awaiting something.
Still farther back, behind a brook, are the French soldiery, also
ranked in the same manner of reposeful expectation. In the middle-
distance we see the town of Bayonne, standing within its zigzag
fortifications at the junction of the river Adour with the Nive.
On the other side of the Adour rises the citadel, a fortified
angular structure standing detached. A large and brilliant
tricolor flag is waving indolently from a staff on the summit.
The Bay of Biscay, into which the Adour flows, is seen on the
left horizon as a level line.
The stillness observed by the soldiery of both armies, and by
everything else in the scene except the flag, is at last broken
by the firing of a signal-gun from a battery in the town-wall.
The eyes of the thousands present rivet themselves on the citadel.
Its waving tricolor moves down the flagstaff and disappears.]
THE REGIMENTS [unconsciously]
Ha-a-a-a!
[In a few seconds there shoots up the same staff another flag—one
intended to be white; but having apparently been folded away a long
time, it is mildewed and dingy.
From all the guns on the city fortifications a salute peals out.
This is responded to by the English infantry and artillery with a
feu-de-joie.]
THE REGIMENTS
Hurrah-h-h-h!
[The various battalions are then marched away in their respective
directions and dismissed to their tents. The Bourbon standard is
hoisted everywhere beside those of England, Spain, and Portugal.
The scene shuts.]
SCENE VI
A HIGHWAY IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF AVIGNON
[The Rhone, the old city walls, the Rocher des Doms and its
edifices, appear at the back plane of the scene under the
grey light of dawn. In the foreground several postillions
and ostlers with relays of horses are waiting by the roadside,
gazing northward and listening for sounds. A few loungers
have assembled.]
FIRST POSTILLION
He ought to be nigh by this time. I should say he'd be very glad
to get this here Isle of Elba, wherever it may be, if words be true
that he's treated to such ghastly compliments on's way!
SECOND POSTILLION
Blast-me-blue, I don't care what happens to him! Look at Joachim
Murat, him that's made King of Naples; a man who was only in the
same line of life as ourselves, born and bred in Cahors, out in
Perigord, a poor little whindling place not half as good as our
own. Why should he have been lifted up to king's anointment, and
we not even have had a rise in wages? That's what I say.
FIRST POSTILLION
But now, I don't find fault with that dispensation in particular.
It was one of our calling that the Emperor so honoured, after all,
when he might have anointed a tinker, or a ragman, or a street
woman's pensioner even. Who knows but that we should have been
king's too, but for my crooked legs and your running pole-wound?
SECOND POSTILLION
We kings? Kings of the underground country, then, by this time, if
we hadn't been too rotten-fleshed to follow the drum. However, I'll
think over your defence, and I don't mind riding a stage with him,
for that matter, to save him from them that mean mischief here.
I've lost no sons by his battles, like some others we know.
[Enter a TRAVELLER on horseback.]
Any tidings along the road, sir of the Emperor Napoleon that was?
TRAVELLER
Tidings verily! He and his escort are threatened by the mob at
every place they come to. A returning courier I have met tells me
that at an inn a little way beyond here they have strung up his
effigy to the sign-post, smeared it with blood, and placarded it
"The Doom that awaits Thee!" He is much delayed by such humorous
insults. I have hastened ahead to escape the uproar.
SECOND POSTILLION
I don't know that you have escaped it. The mob has been waiting
up all night for him here.
MARKET-WOMAN [coming up]
I hope by the Virgin, as 'a called herself, that there'll be no
riots here! Though I have not much pity for a man who could treat
his wife as he did, and that's my real feeling. He might at least
have kept them both on, for half a husband is better than none for
poor women. But I'd show mercy to him, that's true, rather than
have my stall upset, and messes in the streets wi' folks' brains,
and stabbings, and I don't know what all!
FIRST POSTILLION
If we can do the horsing quietly out here, there will be none of
that. He'll dash past the town without stopping at the inn where
they expect to waylay him.—Hark, what's this coming?
[An approaching cortege is heard. Two couriers enter; then a
carriage with NAPOLEON and BERTRAND; then others with the
Commissioners of the Powers,—all on the way to Elba.
The carriages halt, and the change of horses is set about instantly.
But before it is half completed BONAPARTE'S arrival gets known, and
throngs of men and women armed with sticks and hammers rush out of
Avignon and surround the carriages.]
POPULACE
Ogre of Corsica! Odious tyrant! Down with Nicholas!
BERTRAND [looking out of carriage]
Silence, and doff your hats, you ill-mannered devils!
POPULACE [scornfully]
Listen to him! Is that the Corsican? No; where is he? Give him up;
give him up! We'll pitch him into the Rhone!
[Some cling to the wheels of NAPOLEON'S carriage, while others,
more distant, throw stones at it. A stone breaks the carriage
window.]
OLD WOMAN [shaking her fist]
Give me back my two sons, murderer! Give me back my children, whose
flesh is rotting on the Russian plains!
POPULACE
Ay; give us back our kin—our fathers, our brothers, our sons—
victims to your curst ambition!
[One of the mob seizes the carriage door-handle and tries to
unfasten it. A valet of BONAPARTE'S seated on the box draws his
sword and threatens to cut the man's arm off. The doors of the
Commissioners' coaches open, and SIR NEIL CAMPBELL, GENERAL
KOLLER, and COUNT SCHUVALOFF—The English, Austrian, and Russian
Commissioners—jump out and come forward.]
CAMPBELL
Keep order, citizens! Do you not know
That the ex-Emperor is wayfaring
To a lone isle, in the Allies' sworn care,
Who have given a pledge to Europe for his safety?
His fangs being drawn, he is left powerless now
To do you further harm.
SCHUVALOFF
People of France
Can you insult so miserable a being?
He who gave laws to a cowed world stands now
At that world's beck, and asks its charity.
Cannot you see that merely to ignore him
Is the worst ignominy to tar him with,
By showing him he's no longer dangerous?
OLD WOMAN
How do we know the villain mayn't come back?
While there is life, my faith, there's mischief in him!
[Enter an officer with the Town-guard.]
OFFICER
Citizens, I am a zealot for the Bourbons,
As you well know. But wanton breach of faith
I will not brook. Retire!
[The soldiers drive back the mob and open a passage forward. The
Commissioners re-enter their carriages. NAPOLEON puts his head
out of his window for a moment. He is haggard, shabbily dressed,
yellow-faced, and wild-eyed.]
NAPOLEON
I thank you, captain;
Also your soldiery: a thousand thanks!
[To Bertrand within] My God, these people of Avignon here
Are headstrong fools, like all the Provencal fold,
—I won't go through the town!
BERTRAND
We'll round it, sire;
And then, as soon as we get past the place,
You must disguise for the remainder miles.
NAPOLEON
I'll mount the white cockade if they invite me!
What does it matter if I do or don't?
