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, NAPOLÉONS’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.