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 NAPOLÉON 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. NAPOLÉON, 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.]
NAPOLÉON
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.
NAPOLÉON
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 Eugène.
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!
NAPOLÉON
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 NAPOLÉON, 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. NAPOLÉON
takes the papers to the fire, thrusts them in, and watches them
consume; then burns other bundles brought by his attendants.]
NAPOLÉON [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!
NAPOLÉON
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 NAPOLÉON, 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.]