by Thomas Hardy
   My echoes are men's groans, my dews are red;
   So I have reason for a passing dread!
   METTERNICH
   Right nobly phrased, Archduchess; wisely too.
   I will acquaint your sire the Emperor
   With these your views. He waits them anxiously. [Going.]
   MARIA LOUISA
   Let me go first. It much confuses me
   To think—But I would fain let thinking be!
   [She goes out trembling. Enter FRANCIS by another door.]
   METTERNICH
   I was about to seek your Majesty.
   The good Archduchess luminously holds
   That in this weighty question you regard
   The Empire. Best for it is best for her.
   FRANCIS [moved]
   My daughter's views thereon do not surprise me.
   She is too staunch to pit a private whim
   Against the fortunes of a commonwealth.
   During your speech with her I have taken thought
   To shape decision sagely. An assent
   Would yield the Empire many years of peace,
   And leave me scope to heal those still green sores
   Which linger from our late unhappy moils.
   Therefore, my daughter not being disinclined,
   I know no basis for a negative.
   Send, then, a courier prompt to Paris: say
   The offer made for the Archduchess' hand
   I do accept—with this defined reserve,
   That no condition, treaty, bond, attach
   To such alliance save the tie itself.
   There are some sacrifices whose grave rites
   No bargain must contaminate. This is one—
   This personal gift of a beloved child!
   METTERNICH [leaving]
   I'll see to it this hour, your Majesty,
   And cant the words in keeping with your wish.
   To himself as he goes.]
   Decently done!... He slipped out "sacrifice,"
   And scarce could hide his heartache for his girl.
   Well ached it!—But when these things have to be
   It is as well to breast them stoically.
   [Exit METTERNICH. The clouds draw over.]
   SCENE IV
   LONDON. A CLUB IN ST. JAMES'S STREET
   [A winter midnight. Two members are conversing by the fire, and
   others are seen lolling in the background, some of them snoring.]
   FIRST MEMBER
   I learn from a private letter that it was carried out in the
   Emperor's Cabinet at the Tuileries—just off the throne-room, where
   they all assembled in the evening,—Boney and the wife of his bosom
   [In pure white muslin from head to foot, they say], the Kings and
   Queens of Holland, Whestphalia, and Naples, the Princess Pauline,
   and one or two more; the officials present being Cambaceres the
   Chancellor, and Count Regnaud. Quite a small party. It was over
   in minutes—short and sweet, like a donkey's gallop.
   SECOND MEMBER
   Anything but sweet for her. How did she stand it?
   FIRST MEMBER
   Serenely, I believe, while the Emperor was making his speech
   renouncing her; but when it came to her turn to say she renounced
   him she began sobbing mightily, and was so completely choked up that
   she couldn't get out a word.
   SECOND MEMBER
   Poor old dame! I pity her, by God; though she had a rattling good
   spell while it lasted.
   FIRST MEMBER
   They say he was a bit upset, too, at sight of her tears But I
   dare vow that was put on. Fancy Boney caring a curse what a woman
   feels. She had learnt her speech by heart, but that did not help
   her: Regnaud had to finish it for her, the ditch that overturned
   her being where she was made to say that she no longer preserved
   any hope of having children, and that she was pleased to show her
   attachment by enabling him to obtain them by another woman. She
   was led off fainting. A turning of the tables, considering how
   madly jealous she used to make him by her flirtations!
   [Enter a third member.]
   SECOND MEMBER
   How is the debate going? Still braying the Government in a mortar?
   THIRD MEMBER
   They are. Though one thing every body admits: young Peel has
   made a wonderful first speech in seconding the address. There
   has been nothing like it since Pitt. He spoke rousingly of
   Austria's misfortunes—went on about Spain, of course, showing
   that we must still go on supporting her, winding up with a
   brilliant peroration about—what were the words—"the fiery eyes
   of the British soldier!"—Oh, well: it was all learnt before-hand,
   of course.
   SECOND MEMBER
   I wish I had gone down. But the wind soon blew the other way.
   THIRD MEMBER
   Then Gower rapped out his amendment. That was good, too, by God.
   SECOND MEMBER
   Well, the war must go on. And that being the general conviction
   this censure and that censure are only so many blank cartridges.
   THIRD MEMBER
   Blank? Damn me, were they! Gower's was a palpable hit when he said
   that Parliament had placed unheard-of resources in the hands of the
   Ministers last year, to make this year's results to the country
   worse than if they had been afforded no resources at all. Every
   single enterprise of theirs had been a beggarly failure.
   SECOND MEMBER
   Anybody could have said it, come to that.
   THIRD MEMBER
   Yes, because it is so true. However, when he began to lay on with
   such rhetoric as "the treasures of the nation lavished in wasteful
   thoughtlessness,"—"thousands of our troops sacrificed wantonly in
   pestilential swamps of Walcheren," and gave the details we know so
   well, Ministers wriggled a good one, though 'twas no news to 'em.
   Castlereagh kept on starting forward as if he were going to jump up
   and interrupt, taking the strictures entirely as a personal affront.
   [Enter a fourth member.]
   SEVERAL MEMBERS
   Who's speaking now?
   FOURTH MEMBER
   I don't know. I have heard nobody later than Ward.
   SECOND MEMBER
   The fact is that, as Whitbread said to me to-day, the materials for
   condemnation are so prodigious that we can scarce marshal them into
   argument. We are just able to pour 'em out one upon t'other.
   THIRD MEMBER
   Ward said, with the blandest air in the world: "Censure? Do his
   Majesty's Ministers expect censure? Not a bit. They are going
   about asking in tremulous tones if anybody has heard when their
   impeachment is going to begin."
   SEVERAL MEMBERS
   Haw—haw—haw!
   THIRD MEMBER
   Then he made another point. After enumerating our frightful
   failures—Spain, Walcheren, and the rest—he said: "But Ministers
   have not failed in everything. No; in one thing they have been
   strikingly successful. They have been successful in their attack
   upon Copenhagen—because it was directed against an ally!" Mighty
   fine, wasn't it?
   SECOND MEMBER
   How did Castlereagh stomach that?
   THIRD MEMBER
   He replied then. Donning his air of injured innocence he proved the
   honesty of his intentions—no doubt truly enough. But when he came
   to Walcheren nothing could be done. The case was hopeless, and he
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   knew it, and foundered. However, at the division, when he saw what
   a majority was going out on his side he was as frisky as a child.
   Canning's speech was grave, with bits of shiny ornament stuck on—
   like the brass nails on a coffin, Sheridan says.
   [Fifth and sixth members stagger in, arm-and-arm.]
   FIFTH MEMBER
   The 'vision is—-'jority of ninety-six againsht—Gov'ment—I mean—
   againsht us. Which is it—hey? [To his companion.]
   SIXTH MEMBER
   Damn majority of—damn ninety-six—against damn amendment! [They
   sink down on a sofa.]
   SECOND MEMBER
   Gad, I didn't expect the figure would have been quite so high!
   THIRD MEMBER
   The one conviction is that the war in the Peninsula is to go on, and
   as we are all agreed upon that, what the hell does it matter what
   their majority was?
   [Enter SHERIDAN. They all look inquiringly.]
   SHERIDAN
   Have ye heard the latest?
   SECOND MEMBER
   Ninety-six against us.
   SHERIDAN
   O no-that's ancient history. I'd forgot it.
   THIRD MEMBER
   A revolution, because Ministers are not impeached and hanged?
   SHERIDAN
   That's in contemplation, when we've got their confessions. But what
   I meant was from over the water—it is a deuced sight more serious
   to us than a debate and division that are only like the Liturgy on
   a Sunday—known beforehand to all the congregation. Why, Bonaparte
   is going to marry Austria forthwith—the Emperor's daughter Maria
   Louisa.
   THIRD MEMBER
   The Lord look down! Our late respected crony of Austria! Why, in
   this very night's debate they have been talking about the laudable
   principles we have been acting upon in affording assistance to the
   Emperor Francis in his struggle against the violence and ambition
   of France!
   SECOND MEMBER
   Boney safe on that side, what may not befall!
   THIRD MEMBER
   We had better make it up with him, and shake hands all round.
   SECOND MEMBER
   Shake heads seems most natural in the case. O House of Hapsburg,
   how hast thou fallen!
   [Enter WHITBREAD, LORD HUTCHINSON, LORD GEORGE CAVENDISH, GEORGE
   PONSONBY, WINDHAM, LORD GREY, BARING, ELLIOT, and other members,
   some drunk. The conversation becomes animated and noisy; several
   move off to the card-room, and the scene closes.]
   SCENE V
   THE OLD WEST HIGHWAY OUT OF VIENNA
   [The spot is where the road passes under the slopes of the Wiener
   Wald, with its beautiful forest scenery.]
   DUMB SHOW
   A procession of enormous length, composed of eighty carriages—
   many of them drawn by six horses and one by eight—and escorted
   by detachments of cuirassiers, yeomanry, and other cavalry, is
   quickening its speed along the highway from the city.
   The six-horse carriages contain a multitude of Court officials,
   ladies of the Court, and other Austrian nobility. The eight-horse
   coach contains a rosy, blue-eyed girl of eighteen, with full red
   lips, round figure, and pale auburn hair. She is MARIA LOUISA, and
   her eyes are red from recent weeping. The COUNTESS DE LAZANSKY,
   Grand Mistress of the Household, in the carriage with her, and the
   other ladies of the Palace behind, have a pale, proud, yet resigned
   look, as if conscious that upon their sex had been laid the burden
   of paying for the peace with France. They have been played out of
   Vienna with French marches, and the trifling incident has helped on
   their sadness.
   The observer's vision being still bent on the train of vehicles and
   cavalry, the point of sight is withdrawn high into the air, till the
   huge procession on the brown road looks no more than a file of ants
   crawling along a strip of garden-matting. The spacious terrestrial
   outlook now gained shows this to be the great road across Europe from
   Vienna to Munich, and from Munich westerly to France.
   The puny concatenation of specks being exclusively watched, the
   surface of the earth seems to move along in an opposite direction,
   and in infinite variety of hill, dale, woodland, and champaign.
   Bridges are crossed, ascents are climbed, plains are galloped over,
   and towns are reached, among them Saint Polten, where night falls.
   Morning shines, and the royal crawl is resumed, and continued through
   Linz, where the Danube is reapproached, and the girl looks pleased
   to see her own dear Donau still. Presently the tower of Brannau
   appears, where the animated dots pause for formalities, this being
   the frontier; and MARIA LOUISA becomes MARIE LOUISE and a Frenchwoman,
   in the charge of French officials.
   After many breaks and halts, during which heavy rains spread their
   gauzes over the scene, the roofs and houses of Munich disclose
   themselves, suggesting the tesserae of an irregular mosaic. A long
   stop is made here.
   The tedious advance continues. Vine-circled Stuttgart, flat
   Carlsruhe, the winding Rhine, storky Strassburg, pass in panorama
   beneath us as the procession is followed. With Nancy and Bar-le-
   Duc sliding along, the scenes begin to assume a French character,
   and soon we perceive Chalons and ancient Rheims. The last day of
   the journey has dawned. Our vision flits ahead of the cortege to
   Courcelles, a little place which must be passed through before
   Soissons is reached. Here the point of sight descends to earth,
   and the Dumb Show ends.
   SCENE VI
   COURCELLES
   [It is now seen to be a quiet roadside village, with a humble
   church in its midst, opposite to which stands an inn, the highway
   passing between them. Rain is still falling heavily. Not a soul
   is visible anywhere.
   Enter from the west a plain, lonely carriage, traveling in a
   direction to meet the file of coaches that we have watched. It
   stops near the inn, and two men muffled in cloaks alight by the
   door away from the hostel and towards the church, as if they
   wished to avoid observation. Their faces are those of NAPOLEON
   and MURAT, his brother-in-law. Crossing the road through the mud
   and rain they stand in the church porch, and watch the descending
   drifts.]
   NAPOLEON [stamping an impatient tattoo]
   One gets more chilly in a wet March than in a dry, however cold, the
   devil if he don't! What time do you make it now? That clock doesn't
   go.
   MURAT [drily, looking at his watch]
   Yes, it does; and it is right. If clocks were to go as fast as your
   wishes just now it would be awkward for the rest of the world.
   NAPOLEON [chuckling good-humouredly]
   How we have dished the Soissons folk, with their pavilions, and
   purple and gold hangings for bride and bridegroom to meet in, and
   stately ceremonial to match, and their thousands looking on! Here
   we are where there's nobody. Ha, ha!
   MURAT
   But why should they be dished, sire? The pavilions and ceremonies
   were by your own orders.
   NAPOLEON
   Well, as th
e time got nearer I couldn't stand the idea of dawdling
   about there.
   MURAT
   The Soissons people will be in a deuce of a taking at being made
   such fools of!
   NAPOLEON
   So let 'em. I'll make it up with them somehow.—She can't be far
   off now, if we have timed her rightly. [He peers out into the rain
   and listens.]
   MURAT
   I don't quite see how you are going to manage when she does come.
   Do we go before her toward Soissons when you have greeted her here,
   or follow in her rear? Or what do we do?
   NAPOLEON
   Heavens, I know no more than you! Trust to the moment and see what
   happens. [A silence.] Hark—here she comes! Good little girl; up
   to time!
   [The distant squashing in the mud of a multitude of hoofs and
   wheels is succeeded by the appearance of outriders and carriages,
   horses and horsemen, splashed with sample clays of the districts
   traversed. The vehicles slow down to the inn. NAPOLEON'S face
   fires up, and, followed by MURAT, he rushes into the rain towards
   the coach that is drawn by eight horses, containing the blue-eyed
   girl. He holds off his hat at the carriage-window.]
   MARIE LOUISE [shrinking back inside]
   Ah, Heaven! Two highwaymen are upon us!
   THE EQUERRY D'AUDENARDE [simultaneously]
   The Emperor!
   [The steps of the coach are hastily lowered, NAPOLEON, dripping,
   jumps in and embraces her. The startled ARCHDUCHESS, with much
   blushing and confusion recognizes him.]
   MARIE LOUISE [tremulously, as she recovers herself]
   You are so much—better looking than your portraits—that I hardly
   knew you! I expected you at Soissons. We are not at Soissons yet?
   NAPOLEON
   No, my dearest spouse, but we are together! [Calling out to the
   equerry.] Drive through Soissons—pass the pavilion of reception
   without stopping, and don't halt till we reach Compiegne.
   [He sits down in the coach and is shut in, MURAT laughing silently
   at the scene. Exeunt carriages and riders toward Soissons.]
   CHORUS OF THE IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music]
   First 'twas a finished coquette,
   And now it's a raw ingenue.—
   Blond instead of brunette,
   An old wife doffed for a new.
   She'll bring him a baby,
   As quickly as maybe,
   And that's what he wants her to do,
   Hoo-hoo!
   And that's what he wants her to do!