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Full text of "Napoleon, a drama"


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KNIGHT, LEONARD & CO. ' O L -, 7- j 






Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! Poor Josephine ! Alas ! Alas ! 

She gave her life a willing sacrifice ; 

And I, with my own hands, tore out her heart 

And mine, and laid them bleeding on the shrine 

Of France ! 

But to w^hat end ? That the hell-hounds of Fate, 

The damned hag, should lick the flames up 

From that altar's crest, to follow hot 

Upon my track forever after ! 

(yNapoleon, Act VI, Scene Second.^ 


TO LOOK upon a great landscape is to be wrapped in a glori- 
fied enthusiasm. The grander the scene, the more magnifi- 
cent, the easier its possible reproduction appears to the artist. 
This is his instant thought. It is born of his delight. When he 
comes to his canvas he realizes that enthusiasm is not inspiration. 

The limits of the stage are scarcely less circumscribed than the 
canvas and, may I urge, the demands of the sublimest of earth's pic- 
tures are not more inexorable than the career of Napoleon. This im- 
mensity has been at once the spur and the discouragement and I can 
but trust the present work will be more satisfactory to others than 
it is to myself. 

I have, perhaps, not presented the popular Napoleon. I have en- 
deavored to portray Napoleon as I am convinced he will appear in 
a not far distant period of unfettered truth. 

The facts upon which I have based my work have been obtained 
through careful comparisons of histories, contemporaneous with and 
subsequent to the scenes of which I have written, wherein I have en- 
deavored that candor should bar prejudice and ex pat'te statements 
give way to direct evidence. 

It has been found that the proportion of unbiased testimony is 
small and of disinterested evidence still less as compared with the 
volume presented. This is, however, a natural sequence. 

The Powers sought the overthrow of popular government, as a safe- 
guard to monarchy. To them it appeared, at first, a matter of self- 


defense. They believed their own perpetuity menaced by the ap- 
pearance of a Republic on the continent, and that danger was en- 
hanced in proportion to the success of the French experiment. 

Distrust led to estrangement, estrangement to deceit, deceit to in- 
trigue and intrigue to hate. Their hatred was against popular gov- 
ernment as a principle, then against France for espousing that prin- 
ciple, then against Napoleon as the representative and powerful head 
of the French nation, and, finally, after so many overwhelm- 
ing defeats at his hand, their hate and fear culminated in a life and 
death struggle against Napoleon the man. 

And when, at last, by a unanimity of voice unprecedented, the 
French people proclaimed Napoleon Emperor, so virulent had be- 
come their malignity that it became an absolute motive, and, instead 
of accepting the Kmpire as an olive branch, it was received as a new 
and greater offense by the Powers. In the words of Napoleon : 

"Unmitigated hatred was their cause — 
The force of arms alone could be their cure." 

It is not strange, therefore, that the "historians" have tempered 
their words to the cause they represented ; nor that the Bourbons 
should join in the general attack. To write the truth was to pro- 
claim their own infamy. 

The difficulties, however, in obtaining the facts of history under 
such circumstances are not insurmountable. In the cross-examina- 
tion of witnesses the most carefully organized case is often thrown 
into confusion. Such a multitude of witnesses rarely agree. Disa- 
greements lead to contradictions, and these to unguarded admissions, 
and these to forced concessions, and, when all of these are submitted 
to examination and comparison, vmderthe white light of impartiality, 
the truths are revealed — the absolute facts stand in relief. 

The theory that Napoleon was inspired by the idea that he was 
"The Child of Destiny" is scarcely sufficient, to my mind, to recon- 
cile the strange events and seeming inconsistencies of his remarkable 
career. I have, therefore, assumed that he was possessed of no less 
hallucination than that his course was directed, or, rather, sug- 
gested by an actual presiding deity whom he personified as Fate. To 
her he conceived he bore a relation similar to that of Achilles to 


Thetis, though recognizing in Fate one possessed of no less power 
than Jove himself. 

I prefer the word suggested, as it is scarcely in keeping with the 
character of Napoleon that he would have submitted to more than 
this, even from the Immortals. 

The affection of Napoleon for Josephine is beyond discussion. 
There is no recorded instance of a higher or tenderer, a madder love 
between husband and wife; and yet love, the strongest passion of hu- 
manity, was made to yield — an impossibility to Napoleon, had he not 
believed heaven and earth stood in waiting for his action. 

To group the more important events in Napoleon's career, epito- 
mising his life and elucidating his character, and to bring all within 
the compass of a play or an hour's reading, is the object of this pro- 
duction . 

I have, it will be discovered, antedated and crowded events, and 
partially, or entirely, ignored many of the notable characters and re- 
markable achievements connected with Napoleon's history, since, 
with the stated object in view, this was demanded where matter so 

Between Act IV and Act V, Napoleon achieved much of his unap- 
proachable glory, and the period between the Coronation, Act V, 
Scene Second, and the Divorce, Act VI, Scene Fifth, was doubtless 
the most brilliant of his history ; but, for the purpose of condensation 
and of dramatic construction, the historical facts are omitted, to be 
alluded to later in the lines set down to the actors. 

It will be observed that the play jumps from the Re-creation of 
the Army, after the disastrous Russian campaign, to St. Helena, and 
yet the intervening time was fraught with the most stirring scenes 
and important results of Napoleon's life. But what limits of a play 
were capable of the ovation received by Napoleon upon his return 
from Elba, or a portrayal of Waterloo ? 

These and other obvious deviations from historical accuracy will 
not, it is trusted, diminish the pleasure the reader may find in these 
pages. In the main, they are true to history. 

Chicago, October, 1S92. 


Napoleon Bonaparte, afterwards Napoleon I. 

General of Fni?ice, afterwards Emperor of France 
Caulaincourt, - - - Companion to Napoleon 

I^UGENE DE Beauharnais, N'apoleofi s adopted son, afterivards 

a Marshal of France 
Ney, 1 

Aug^'e^'reau, [ - - - - Marshals of France 

Massena, J 

Marshal Bertrand, ) Companions to Napoleon at St. Helena 
(General Montholon, j ^ ^ 

Joseph Bonaparte, | _ _ Brothers of Napoleon 

Lucien Bonaparte, ) 

Carxot, - Member of the Directory and friend of Napoleon 

B arras, ) 

C'lOHiER, V - Members of the Directory and Conspirators 


Talleyrand, ^ 

:Y^^^^' V. . - - - Ministers of France 

Camhaceres, ' 


Metternich, - - - - - Minister of Austria 

Von Coblentz, . . - - Embassador of Austria 

Manfredini, . - - - Embassador of Tuscany 

Oriani, ....-- An Astronomer 

Sir Hudson Lowe, - - - Governor of St. Helena 

Marchand, - - - Napoleon s valet at St. Helena 

1ST AND 2D Officers, - Officers to Sir Hudson Loive 

1ST, 2D AND 3D MEMBERS, Of the CouncH of the Five Hundred 
1ST AND 2D Citizens. 


Josephine, Wife of Napoleon^ afterwards Empress of France 
The Princess Augusta, Affianced to Eugene, afterwards wife 

of Eug^ene 
Mme. De Stall, . . . . Queen of the Salon 

1ST AND 2D Maids. 



Pius VII., 

DuRoc, Lefebvre, Soult, 

Davoust, Poniatowski, 

Macdonald, Mortier, 

Desaix, Kleeber, Junot, 

Lannes, Ouidinot, 

Besseires, Joubert, 
General Gourgand, 
Count De Las Casas 
Doctor O'Meara, 
Mme. Las Casas, 
Mme. Bertrand, 
Mme. Montholon, 
Laraveillere Lepea 
1ST, 2D and 3D Secretaries to Napoleon. 

.ux, J 

Pope of Rome 

Marshals and Generals oj 

Co7npanio7is to Napoleoji at 
St. Helena 

Members of the Directory 

Five Conspirators, Prelates, a Little Girl, Gendarmes, 
Soldiers, Citizens. 


ACT L— Scene First. 

The Night of the Twei^fth Vendemiaire. 

Discovered — 

Barras, Carnot, Gohier, Moulins, Joseph Bonaparte, 
Lepeaux, Letourneur, Rewell and other members. 

(^Ba rra s Presiding . ) 


IF that our edict seemed ill-timed, 
What boots it now, the Sections are in arms ? 

{Guns in distance.^ 

Hark, to the booming of their cannonade ! 
Should not its thunder drown this senseless strife? 

Continue we in this another day. 

And that now muffled roar shall vShake the dome. 


Let fall the dome ! We ask but what is right, 
And for that right will die if need be. 



There's worse thau death — 

Joseph Bonaparte. 
But, citizens — 


Shame ! Shame ! 
An' we are men, let us acquit us so ! 
An' we are dogs, who shall bewail our woe ? 

Joseph Bonaparte. 

Even the instinct of the commonest cur 
Would warn us of our danger now. 


Who will, then, let him tuck his tail and sneak 
From the Convention. 


Are we but dogs, indeed, 
That we should fall to whining at misfortune ? 
Snap, snarl and catch each other at the throat 
Until the Keeper of the Kennel comes 
To lash us to our places ? 


Who is he 
Whom you would style our Keeper ? 

{^Enter ist Courier.) 


Now, here is one shall throw to you a bone. 
Sirrah, Speak ! 


First Courier. 

The Sections are victorious, 
And everywhere do drive our soldiery. 

{Exit Courier.) 
( Confusion increases . ) 

LuciEN Bonaparte. 

What, does our General sleep ? He has outlived 
His usefulness. 


Now, is this brave, indeed. 
To strike a Comrade in the back when most 
He needs assistance ? 

LuciEN Bonaparte. 

Nay, but to confront him — 
Aye, strip him of command, ere he shall fall 
And drag France down with him ! 


Peace ! Peace ! 
{Enter Second Courier.') 
Speak, Sirrah? 

Second Courier. 

The Sections, like incarnate fiends, 
Cut down our troops and sweep to victory ! 
Our soldiers are as chaff in a hurricane. 

{Exit Courier.) 
{Great co7ifusio7i .) 

Such fury bodes not courage, but despair — 
When once they're checked, they'll fly. 

lyUCiEN Bonaparte. 

"When once they're checked — " 
But who is to check them ? Not Menou. 

{Enicf Third Courier?) 
Now shall we hear how the}- do "fly!" 

(77? Courier.^ 

Speak, Sirrah, and catch breath after ! 

Third Courier. 

Our troops go over to the enemy 

In whole battalions — those that remain 

Are driven street by street ! 

{Exit Courier.^ 

{Confusion becomes indescribable.^ 

{Enter EourtJi Courier. ) 

Peace ! Here is better news, I'll warrant you. 

Fourth Courier. 

Tidings from the General. 

{Gives dispatch to Barras.') 


{Tears open the dispatch and reads.) 
S' death ! Damnable ! Hell's furies seize him ! 

Menou grants an armistice. 

( Uproa lions confusion . ) 
{E)iter Napoleon Bonaparte at- 
tended by three aids-de-camp . 
{He advances to the President 
and seizes the dispatch.) 



For France ! 

Lo ! I do rend this record of disgrace ! 

The sewers of Paris shall run red with blood 

But that the White Waters of our France shall run 

Unhindered to the Sea ! — Give me command ! 

Aye, be it so ! Let Bonaparte command ! 

Vive ! Vive le General ! Vive la Bonaparte ! 


{To First Aid-de-Camp.~) 

Send Murat here ! 

{Exit First Aid.) 
( To Sccon d A id-dc- Ca nip . 

Go you for Lannes ! 

{Exit Second Aid.) 

{To Third Aid-de- Camp.) 

You for Massena ! 

{Exit Third Aid.) 

{Filter Murat attended by First Aid.) 
{To Murat.) 

Take your dragoons to Sablons and bring all 
The artillery here ! I must have fifty guns, 
And tumbrils, filled, to furnish them 
With an hundred rounds of shell and ball ! 
These must be in place before the dawn ! 

{Exit Murat.) 
{Filter Lannes attended by Second Aid.) 


( To La)nics.) 

Barricade the approaches and prepare 
Your breastworks for our guns ! 

{Exit l.ajincs.) 
(^H)itcr Massdia attended l^y Tliird Aid.] 
{^^fo Massena.) 

Rally the troops 
And form around the Tuileries ! 

(yExii Massena.] 
{To the Convention.) 

Now you may sleep, 
And, wnth the morrow's breaking of the dawn, 
When you again shall hear the cry, " To Arms ! " 
"Down with the Convention!" and "Destroy the Tyrants!' 
And hear the Sisters of the Guillotine 
Shrieking for blood, l>e sure that blood shall come, 
Attendant on the crash of grape and canister ! 
My guns will talk for France and there shall be 
No answer to their voice except the dying wails 
Of crushed conspirators ! 


Vive ! Vive le General ! \^ive la Bonaparte ! 

ACT I. — Scene Second. 

Headquarters of General Bonaparte. 

Discovered — 

Barras, Gohier and Moulins. 


UK Bonaparte did make swift work of it. 


It was a bloody, bloody victory— 
And horrible ! . 


The Thirteenth Vendemiaire 
Will not be soon forgot. 


I am heart-sick 
To think of it. 


The people fell 
Before the murderous artillery 
I/ike blades o* grass to the mower. 



And now all France would worship the destroyer. 


Yes, we are naught beside him with the people. 

( The Princess Augusta is discovered.^ 


We ? Aj-e, and every one, it would appear. 
In France there's but one man. 

And he a Corsican ! 


That yesterday 
Was but a corporal. Our generals 
Are quite forgot in presence of this stripling. 

But, gentlemen, we may not quite despise him. 


He grows too fast — we'll nip him in good time, 
Ere this green fruitage of his glory 
Shall ripen into power. 


But how ? 
The task will scarcely prove an easy one. 


Now shall we post him off to Italy — 
Once there we'll hold him to our purposes. 



But if he should o'erwhelm the allied arms? 

Impossible ! 


I'm not so sure of it. 


Well, then, 'twere easy to dispatch him. 

What, are you grave ? We'll trip this Corporal General, 

Never fear, or make him one of us. 

^Eiiter Napoleon Bonaparte?) 


'Tis said that when these eyes first saw the light, 

They gazed upon a piece of tapestry, 

Whereon were painted Ilium's tragic scenes ; 

And that my father, on the bed of death. 

In words prophetic cried : 

"Napoleon — the glory of a greater France ! " 

Ah, Fame, thou Ignis- Fatuus of Pride, 
Thou canst not tempt me from that nobler destiny ! 
Fate hath decreed the glory of Her son. 

Between Her visits on my natal hour 
The Mystic Numbers alternate — 

The clustering years, in coronals of stars, 
Flame in the crown She holds above my head. 

Seven and three and five and seven and three — 
The divination of the Unity ! 
I'll doubt no more ! facta est alea ! 


Fate, Supreme Goddess, hail ! 
Lo, let the firm alliance now be sealed ! 
Lead on ! Lead on ! 

About it now, good brain. 
Thou never-resting, we are dauntless now I 
Conceive and She shall execute 

The Indomitable Will ! 

{Enter Augusta.) 
Princess ! 


Art quite alone ? 


Wh}', 3^es, my pretty one. 


Go not to Italy 

Hath sent thee ? 

Ah, my fond bride 


No, no ! General, go not ! 
Here at thy feet, I pray that thou go not ! 

What ! Has Barras again affronted thee ? 

Not mine ! Not mine ! But thine the danger now. 


From Barras? I, in danger? Oh, no, no! 
Barras harms but the weak and powerless. 


He'd dare not even meet thy courage, child. 
But, tell me, has he importuned thee ? 


He has twice approached me since I saw thee last, 
To prate me of his suit and yet this hour, 
Within this very room, I overheard 
The soulless wretch, with Moulins and Gohier, 
Plotting th}' overthrow. 


Thou heardst them , here ? 


I came to bear th}^ sweet wife's compliments 
Touching the matter which this note imparts, 

{Gives letter^ 
And played the eavesdropper. 


Rather, the friend. 


Heard I but the conclusion of their council. 
They spake of the Thirteenth Vendemiaire, 
And called thee butcher, monster and the like ; 
Prated of their own qualities, the while, 
And darkly hinted of a villainous plot 
For thy swift overthrow ; failing in which, 
Thy uo less swift dispatch. 


Heardst thou the plot ? 



They, seemingly, had been discussing that 
Before I came — I got no chie to it. 

So — So — Think'st thou couldst play a part for me? 

Prove me ! Oh, wouldst thou prove me ! 


I will ! 
Thou'dst be a soldier's bride — I'll prove thee. 
I'll set thee on to unravel this Barras 
And knit him up again into a glove 
That we shall wear to our own purposes. 

Barras ! 


Ah, fear him not ! I'll counsel thee. 
'Tis well that he has marked thee for his prey— 
We'll lead him to the precipice — And yet — 


And yet — 


I do regret in this to employ thee — 
Thou'rt young to learn dissimulation. 


I should be young, indeed, if still untaught 
In such diplomacy. In other lands 


'Tis, doubtless, otherwise ; but here, in France, 
We are nothing not en masque. 
I pra}' thee give me leave to prove myself 
A worthy damoiselle of La Belle France. 


I'd show thee w^orthy in a worthier cause, 
But that I know thou needest not the showing. 
Ah, this will try thy strength ! 


Try me ? 

Thou'lt find more thorns than roses m thy path. 

In such a cause, send me through thorns alone. 


I wall, since it must be so, and at once. 

Know, then, the first step to our purposes 

Must lie in the offense of thy heart's love. 

Barras 's no fool although he is a villain ; 

He knows thy choice of Eugene — knows that thou 

Art pure and good ; too noble in thy nature 

To stoop to wrong. Now he must see thee break 

Th}^ bond with Eugene. He'd not believe 

Less than his eyes in such a happening. 

But Eugene must know all — 


That were defeat. 
Eugene could play no part less than his own — 
I will tell him all in Italy. 

But if he dare some rash extremity ? 


Then shall we in extremities o'er match him. 
We'll place him under friendly surveillance. 

But to himself — 

He is too noble to destroy himself. 

I will do it— 


Eugene will dearer prize thee when he knows. 

Now to our plans ! When Barras sees thee break 

With Eugene, for his own fair prospering suit 

He'll hold thee kindred to his confidence. 

Be not in haste — he'll come to thee anon 

And, in good time, for all our purposes. 

Then shalt thou play him plot with counterplot. 

Command me! 



Win Barras speedily — 

(She offers to go.) 
Stay ! In thy coiffure wear this ornament. 

(Places stiletto in her hair.) 
If he prove gallant, treat him gallantly. 

lyife is a precious thing — 


Thine honor, child, 
Is worth whole hecatombs of lives. 

ACT I.— Scene Third. 

Salon of Mme. De Stael. 

Disco verecl- 

Barras, Gohier, Mouliiis and Generals. 

Ladies and Gentlemen. 

Mme. De Stael. 

(yEnter Eugene and Augusta.) 

De Stael. 
/^^ ENKRAL — Princess — you are right welcome ! 

Madame, yours is a ro^^al greeting. 

De Stael. 
My guests are royal — the best blood of France. 

You honor us. 

De Stael. 

That were impossible. 


But we have not all proved our quality — 
In blood, alone, honors sit idly by. 


%k De Stael. 

Brave youth and glorious maidenhood 
Precede great deeds. 


{Who has approached Augusta.) 

Fair Princess, thou wast ne'er so wondrous fair, 
Yet ever wast thou quite be3^ond compare ! 


Now thou wouldst prove the flatterer, I think. 


Believe me and spurn not my heart's devotion ! 
I'd give m}^ life to prove it true to thee. 
Count me among thy slaves and I shall be 
The happiest of men. 

My slaves ? My slaves ! 

Then name me with thy worshipers. 


I have but one. 

And he ? 


Not he, but she — my grandmother. 

{Laughing .) 


Bark AS. 

Would that same grand-dam were an armored knight. 
I'd try conclusions with him, though he were 
A Crenr de Leon ! And dost thou, then, love? 

I love the Corsican — 


As all do who love France. 

But, tell me, now, hast thou but jests for me? 

(Ano-nsfa shozus confusion^ 

Tliou l)idst me hope ! I live in ecstacj- ! 

Wear this for me. 

i^Hc takes a rose from his coat and 
gives it to her. She hesitates, then 
takes it and fastens it on her 
breast. Eugene, who has seen 
all, shoTC's anger.) 
{Enter Bonaparte and foscphine.) 

De Stael. 
General, Madame, you ennoble us ! 

{Bonaparte goes to Eugene.) 

How beautiful it is ! 

[Regarding the Salon.) 

De Stael. 
Yours will be magnificent ! 

Mine ? 

De Stai:u. 

The Tuileries. 

Pardon me I 

De Stael. 

I speak most earnestl3^ 
The General will bring all to your feet. 

Your fair opinion honors him, madame. 

De Stael. 

Ah, you should be the happiest of women ! 
Such opportunities, such power yours, 
To mold great destinies ! 


And I am happy 
When in my happiness I can lend happiness 
To others. 

De Stael. 

Ah, in this, all France indebted 
Stands to 3^ou, madame — 


No, not " indebted"— there can be no debt- 
Love only proves itself when it has reached 
The last extremity for whom it loves. 

De Stael. 
A lofty sentiment !— You go to Italy ? 

The General fears so much fatigue for me. 

Die Stael. 

So great and yet so ardent in his love ! 

{Laughiiio. ; 
Your Salon, then, shall cheat his absence 
And be gayest in all Paris. 


I court repose. 

De Stael. 

Ambition's consort 
May not know repose. The highest talents, art, 
In statecraft, here find possibilities — 
The Salon is greater than the Council. 
Here one may make and unmake kings 
At will, build thrones or banish dynasties. 
Here woman may attain her ends. 


Happy attainment rarely comes to us 
When selfishness suggests the motive. 

De Stael. 

There is no action with self motive gone. 
Let us rail not against our being's law, 
Or chaos comes again. What say the saints? 
That we are made, in that the Maker 
Should be glorified. 


The Creator's glory 
Lies in the possibilities that wait 
Upon created ones. 

( Bonaparte approaches.^ 


De Stael. 

Ah ! General, 
You join us? 

{Shows confusion.) 


We were discussing the Salon. 


The Salon is a menace, constantly. 
To the stability of government. 

De StaeIv. 

Is it, then, true you are not fond of ladies, 
General ? 


I am very fond of my wife. 

( They are approached by Barras 
and Angusta. Bonciparte and 
Josephine go up stage to meet 

De Stael. 


How is it that I tremble in his presence ? 

Scarce speak — Scarce breathe — Is he a demigod ? 

And I am she who rules the half of France ! 

Rules by her will^Her power over men ! 

And this man, this, inspires me with awe — 

Affrights me ! 

Sees he into my soul ? An' if he should. 

There is no murder there ! Why, this is weakness — 

I'll master me or pluck out both mine eyes ! 

But what though I were sightless ? I should feel 

His presence ! Ah ! — I will tear out my heart 

Or conquer me ! 



{To Ai(o;usta.) 
Monsieur Barras is entertaining, quite. 


{To Eugene.) 

Oh, we have planned great politics and statecraft ! 

{Laughing. ) 

It would appear so. 


Forgive me ! Eugene — 
Monsieur Barras awaits. 


Death !— 

A brilliant life wdll, haply, shorter be, 
Even as a falling star whose life goes out 
When its effulgence most attracts our view ; 
So shall my glory through this little world 
Blaze like a meteor in the firmament 
And then go out forever. Oh, farewell, 
Farewell, Augusta ! Now am I resolved. 

De Stael. 

{Approaching Bonaparte.) 

General, I trust our ladies' presence 

Shall rest you from the burdens of the Camp. 


Our wits are often put to greater straits 
In the Salon than on the battle field. 


De StaeIv. 
But here, at least, are conquests bloodless. 


And heartless ! 

De Stael. 

You have tripped my words — I was not clever — 
But tell me, now, do you ne'er have remorse 
For the Thirteenth Vendemiaire ? 


That was my seal — the seal Fate stamped on France. 
Europe shall yet attest it. 

De Stael. 

Our women souls 
Ma}^ only know the right, and cannot rise 
To the Olympian philosophy. 
The dead are dead to us, and all the gods 
Cannot return them to our love and homes. 


What, then, is death ? Gateway for noble souls 

To higher possibilities. Others reck not 

Save as among the wastes o' the universe. 

Fate wnlls that some of us remain awhile 

To do her bidding. Madame, what is your task ? 

De Stael. 
I trust 'tis not to kill. 

Amen ! 


(yApproacliing. ) 
My love ! 


I attend you. 

De Stael. 

Will you not dance ? 


The General must rest. 
{Excinit Bowpartc and JoscpJiine.) 


The Dance. 
Eugene regarding Barras and Augusta. 


ACT II.— Scene First. 


Drawing Room of Hotel Elboef. 

Barras Discovered. 

{Enter the Princess Augusta, 
disguised as a page. With 
four other pages. ) 


PERDITION snatch me quick, but ye are choice. 
And yet have I no time for ye to-day. 

{Exit pages.) 
Stay ! Stay ! Marie, I had forgot myself. 
What's that I'd taste next to thy pretty lips ? 
Go fetch it, straight, my love. 

{Exit Marie.) 
The Corsican 
Is yet far in advance in spite of me. 
He strides the earth a very demigod. 

{Re-enter Marie with wine.) 

{To Marie.) 

I'll see thee presently. {Exit Marie.) 

With cunning spies, lodged i' the midst o' the camp, 
Have I beset him, and still no clue 
With which to humble him, scarcely annoy. 

I strike him through the journals 
And, as his victories come heralded, 


I intercept reports to temper them, 

And, yet, by some means, truth will leak, 

And through the streets no other sound is heard 

But that same damned, inexorable yell : 

"Vive le Bonaparte !" 

i^Entcr Goliicr and Moulins.) 
{Cr/i's 7i.'itJioiit, 

' ' Vive Ic Bonaparte. ") 
What means this, Gohier ? Are the people mad ? 


The streets are thronging with the multitude. 
Splitting their throats with " Vive le Bonaparte," 
And yet 'tis scarce an hour they've had the news. 


You mean from Generals Junot and Eugene ? 
Prate they to the populace ere we 
Receive them in the Directory ? 


The standards and rich trophies they have brought 
Attract attention. The people guess the rest. 

We'll set them guessing presently. 


Nor can we long delay. This blazing brand 
Of glory he has snatched, fires all hearts 
And will illume the world unless put out. 


Now he'll to Paris, 

Borne as world's concpieror amidst a sea 


Of crazy-witted fools whose rotten breaths 
In loud acclaim shall roll in mighty waves 
Before him. 


An' we permit it, yes. 


*' Permit" is good. 

Permit ! 

(^Rhigs. Re-enter Augusta 
disguised as a page bearing 
wine. Exit — stops a7id over- 
hears what follows. ) 

" Permit" is very good, 
Upon my faith — it smacks of enterprise. ( They drink.') 

An' you have mettle, gentlemen, we'll try 
Conclusions with this young "Achilles," soon. 

Barras and Moulins. 

( Touching glasses.) 
Here's to our mettle ! 


Two hundred thousand pounds 
In yellow gold await emergencies. 

{Sensatio7i .) 

From whence? 

Why not across the channel ? 

Methods legitimate have sadly failed. 



And ever will fail 'gainst this Corsican. 

Is't tangible, this sum ? Does't wait us? Where ? 


In the Bank of England. 


To whose order ? 
Or in whose name stands it accredited ? 




The conditions ? 


As we shall choose to make them. 
The gold awaits us, that I warrant you. 

Well, you would prove us — 


Good ! And so will I. 
This sum magnificent insures success 
An' we set to it — that you'll not dispute. 
'Tisbut a question, then, of action, means, 
Scruples, et ccetera. 



Pray you, go on ! 
We are committed touching the Legitimate. 


What shall "Legitimate" infer? 


Bribes, lies and so forth. Mark you, twixt right and wrong 

In war, the line's a faint one, and we draw it 

Fainter and fainter in extremities. 

We are not wit-strangers — pray you, go on ! 


Well, then, have at you, gentlemen ! Attend. 
The Corsican is wanted by our cousins, 
Albeit they care not for his trunk and legs. 


Well, well, go on! 


I've ta'en some action, 
Feeling assured of your good offices. 
To this extent. Monsieur Botot awaits us. 


Well, well? 


Arrest "Achilles" and confine him close. 
Then hold him to our secret order. 


But how. and when? You speak in parables. 



Occasions will prove ample. When he comes, 
Borne as a conqueror, he'll fear no danger. 
Come ! Botot awaits. 

ACT II.— Scene Second. 
Drawing Room of Mme. Bonaparte. 

(yEntcr B arras.) 
Bar R AS. 

BY Juno, now this Bonaparte 
Has left rich pasturage for some man's colt ! 
I'll look to it. Who has a better right ? 
I helped him to his greatness, 'tis but just 
He should repay me. And I'll prescribe the terms ; 
My choice of coin. I'll not take the Republic's 
But that of Royalty less circulate — 
Recently new stamped but not impaired. 
Oh, good Botot, Petit Achilles trip 
And leave to me his fair Briseis ! 

{Ejiter the Princess Augusta.) 


You've been kept waiting — I regret it, sir. 


An untimely call — the affairs of state 
In these most bu^^}^ and eventful times 
Demand us unaw^ares. 


Have you advice from Italy ? 


And it shall please you, yes. 

This letter. 'Tis for Madame Bonaparte, 

And from the General. I came at once 

Upon receiving it, to her, and beg 

If any further service I can lend- 


{Gives letter.) 

She will be pleased the happiness to grant 
Of such employment. I shall in my best words 
Report you, monsieur. But tell me, now, 
Came you upon this business solely ? 

You know it was my Princess I would meet. 

The fair Briseis? 

Ha ! Have you played a jealous listener ? 


I heard you speak the word as I did enter. 
Is it for this that you have made me false 
To my great benefactor and my lover ? 
It serves me well ! 


My Princess, do you weigh me 
'Gainst a word, not knowing what 'twas coupled with? 
By all the Immortals now, 'tis I am wronged. 


Ob, I have been fond of tbee, alas ! 


{Feigns to weep.) 

Now, by white faith, I have made tardy footing — 
Two years' devotion yields to one weak word. 

What was't thou said'st then? Tell me, tell me, love ! 


What could I say, sweet love, but in sweet love? 
I was but making merry with the times — 
Comparing thee, so far beyond compare, 
With this half-widowed fair Briseis here — 
Thou heard 'st me laugh at the comparison ? 



And was that all ? 


She's coming — I must go — 

I could not bear to look upon her now 

Since she has been the subject of thy grief. 


{He kisses her hand and exits. 
She smiles upon him as he goes 
off, nibs vigojvnsly the hand 
he has kissed ivith her handker- 
chief, which she then tosses into 
the fire.) 


{Enter Josephine. ) 

He is gone ? 



I loathe him ! 

But he must not suspect it. 


Oh, no — He brings letters to you. 
{Gives letter and exits.) 

Josephine. {Readiufr.) 

" Junot takes to Paris twenty-two standards. You will 
come back with him, wuU you not? Misery without reme- 
dy, sorrow without comfort, unmitigated anguish, will be 
my portion if it is my misfortune to see him come back 
alone, my own adored wife ! He will breathe at your 
shrine and perhaps you wall even grant him the unsurpassed 
privilege of kissing your cheek. And I will be far, far 
away ! 

You will come, here at my side, to my heart, in my arms ! 
Take wings, come ! Come ! Yet journey slowh- — the 
road is long, bad, fatiguing. If some calamity should hap- 
pen — if the exertion — 

Set out at once, my beloved one, but travel slowly. 


Will I come to thee ? Ask thou the flower 
If it will turn its fond face to the Sun ! 
Even as the soul w^ould swiftly take its flight 
l^nto the source of its supremest ecstacy, 

I come, my love, I come ! 

{Eiiter Euoc)u\ in iniijorui.) 
Eugene ! 

( 77/ri' embrace.) 

How long since you left Italy ? 



I came with Joseph Bonaparte, Junot, 

And the escort that our fair trophies brought. 

Your letter, too. 


How fares the General ? 

Did he not, then, inform you? 


Oh, yes ; but, tell me. 

Is he indeed well, quite well, dear Eugene ? 

He was in perfect health on my departure. 

And do you keep a close watch over him ? 


There's not a soldier would not die for him. 
But you are worn and weary, mother dear — 
What, are you ill? 


Oh, no, not ill, not ill — 
Nor wear}^ in the cause I am intrusted — 
But 'tis a time we may not hope for rest. 
I may be summoned an}^ moment hence — 
Conspiracy is newly footed. 



We shall baffle them ! 


If we are quick enough. 
Oh, Eugene, it is well 3^ou are with us — 


How, now ? 

{Enter a page.) 

Madame Therese de Talien. 

{Exit page. ) 


'Tis urgent — wait ni}- return! — 

{Exit Joseph ine . ) 

France, thou art safe while thou canst boast such women. 

{Re-en ter A ngusta . ) 

My love ! 

My darling. 


{They embraee.) 

You do forgive me ? 


Forgive ! Forgive you ? Oh, 'twas sweet revenge 
To make Barras your plaything and our servant. 
I have paid dearly for your cleverness — 



Pray you no more ! — 

How slowly have the hours dragged, Eugene ! 

Yet am I paid for all a thousand times 

In this fair moment on your loving breast. 


How at your feet I used to sit, the while 

I told, in fondest words I knew, my love, 

And held up fairest pictures of the life 

In store for us ! 

What happy visions rose before us ! 

But none to equal this reality. 

There was one look you gave to me at times — 

A look you could not give unto another — 

There ! There ! Again does it enrapture me ! 

Oh, m}^ darling ! 

How that one look has nestled in my heart 

Through all the weary hours of absence ! 

How has it cheered me when all else w^as vain ! 

How like a light from heaven illumed my path 

And as a beacon brought me back to \'ou ! 


Speak on, that I may hear the music sweet 
Of your dear voice ! It has been long, so long, 
Since I have listened to it, love ! Speak on ! 


Your beauty robs me of my words — 
What eloquence could rise to such a theme ! 
On yester-night, dear love, I dreamed a dream, - 
A lovely dream, but not so fair as this. 

Pray, tell it me ! 



A sunlit vale 
Where perfumed grasses were all interspersed 
With flowers rare and rich. Sweet mignonette 
And heliotrope, innumerable roses 
And nameless flowers as redolent. 
And there w^ere little bowers of jessamine 
Whose balmy breath is but less sweet, dear love, 
Than that wherein your kisses nestle. 

All these did freight 
Soft zephyrs that floated through the glen 
And circled round my head in eddying swirl. 
There seemed a melody of song to rise 
From grass and flower and the birds caught this 
And carried it into the higher measures 
Of their dulcet strains. Then it did echo 
Through the glen, till, following adown 
The fringes of the gentle winding stream, 
That ran just through the center of the vale, 
It lost itself upon the boundless sea. 


How beautiful ! 


Here and there were quiet little nooks 
And fair retreats, 'neath denser foliage 
In every hue and matchless tint of green. 
And some old trees, staid warders of the vale, 
Were rich with clambering roses. 
Clematis sweet, that graced their massive trunks. 
Or other vines luxuriant, 


That sought the ven^ topmost bending boughs 
To peep out first in lovelier blossom 
And catch the morning glory of the sun. 

Dear, dear Eugene. 


Fair clouds 
Were ever blushing in divinest tints, 
Casting their mellow shadows on the vale, 
And but one charm was wanting. 


And that ? 

Your presence, darling, then't had nothing lacked 
Of heaven for Eugene. 

(^Re-enter Josephine.) 

Oh, England ! England ! 

How, now? 


Even now as ever since this base King George 
Has been the tool of baser counsellors. 

Impart ! 


Led by the craft}^ Barras and Gohier 
The plot awaits swift consummation. 

Has Barras, then, been cleverer than we ? 


What plot is this ? 

Has not Augusta told you ? 

Not yet — I — I — we had not time for it yet — 


Nay, dear, the fault was mine — pray you, delay 
No longer ! 


Know, then, 'tis planned to bribe the General's guard 
And basely thus make him a prisoner. 
Two hundred thousand pounds is pledged 
To the enterprise. 


And M. Botot 
Is sent a secret messenger this day 
To dispatch it. 


Today ? Then does Barras 
Suspect, and plays a part with me ! So — So — 
'Tis part for part ! Mme. de Talien, 
Where is she ? 


Ere this, at home, I warrant — 
She'll have another meetintr with Botot. 



We must move swiftly in this matter now — 
To what extent can she command this fellow ? 


To absolute control. For, know, he is 
At once a pliable and simple fool 
In presence of a pretty woman . 

Who, then, is implicated ? 


We shall acquaint 
You presently. 


I'll hasten our report of victories, 

And then, my mother, we must both set out 

For Italy. We shall be with the General 

Ere Botot has made half the journey. 

But you, Augusta, will remain in Paris 

To keep us well informed. A weighty trust 

We dare not risk to another. 


ACT II.— Scene Third. 

Palace ok the Luxembourg. 



Carnot, Barras, Lepeaux, Rewbell, Letourueur, 
Secretaries and Gendarmes, &c. 

Carnot Presiding. 


(^Continuing his speech?) 

LET us, then, not forget 
That these successes, from the first so great, 
They have astounded Christendom, 
Reflect the genius solely of our General. 
He found an army miserably clad, 
Relaxed in discipline, ambitionless. 
Cursing their country and no less themselves 
For its neglect, their own torpidity ; 
Five and thirty thousand of such soldiery 
Was all he had with which to meet the foe. 
And such a foe ! Shall I recall its strength ? 
England, Austria, Bavaria, Piedmont, 
Naples and some minor states of Germany, 
And Italy— all joined to Austria's league. 
Its armies, skilled in every art of w^ar, 
Well fed, well clothed, well paid, brave in success, 
And ably generaled. 


What glory sits upon our Eagles now ! 

Our armies newly armed, fed, clothed and paid 

From spoils of the enemy, challenge 

The admiration of the enlightened world ! 

While those proud thrones that banded their great strength 

To crush the young Republic, now, amazed, 

Stand trembling for their own security ! 

(yEnter page.^ 

Generals Joseph Bonaparte, Junot and Beauharnais. 


Immediately admit them. {Exit page.) 

( En ter Joseph Bonapa rte , Jii 7iot 
ayid Eugene, attended by Gen- 
darmes bearing stajidards .) 

Citizen-Generals : 

In the name of France and the People 
The Directory welcomes 3^ou. 

Citizen- President and Directors : 
The General of France sends, greeting you. 
Trophies of victory from Italy, 
And here would lay them at your feet 
As at the shrine of France. 

We attend most eao:erlv. 



( Taking the flag up07i whicJi 
was i7iscribed the bulleti?!.) 

He has indeed great victories to report 
And on our flag inscribes this bulletin. 


{Reads fro)}i one side of flag.) 

*' To the Army of Italy, the grateful country." 

{Reads from other side of flag.) 

" 1 15000 prisoners, 170 standards, 550 pieces of battering 
cannon, 600 pieces of field artillery, 5 bridge equipages, 
9 sixty-four gun ships, 12 thirty-two gun frigates, 12 
corvettes, 18 galleys. 
"Armistice with the King of Sardinia, Convention with 
Genoa, Armistice with the Duke of Parma, Armistice 
with the King of Naples, Armistice with the Pope. 
Preliminaries of Leoben, Convention of Montebello 
wath the Republic of Genoa. Treaty of peace with the 
Emperor at Campo Formio, Liberty given to the people 
of Bologna, Ferrara, Modena, Massa-Carara, La Ro- 
magna, Lombardy, Bressera, Bormio, the Vallentina, 
the Genoese, the Imperial Fiefs, the people of the de- 
partments of Coreigra, of the ^gean Sea and of Ithaca. 
Sent to Paris master-pieces of Michael Angelo, of Gen- 
ercino, of Titian, of Paul Veronese, of Correggio, of Al- 
bano, ofCorracei, of Raphael and of Leonardo da Vinci." 

{Duri7ig the reading of the report 
Camot is greatly exeited. As it 
progresses all I'ise to their feet. 
Carnot comes dozvn from his chair. 
Tearing his cloak open at the con- 
clusion of the report, he displays a 
miniature of Napoleon, which he 
has wor7i concealed there , and holds 
it up as he addresses foseph Bona- 


Tell 3'our brother 

That I do wear him next unto my heart ! 

{Turns to Directors?) 
Go fire your guns ! Ring wildly every bell ! 


Scream with the fife I Let the shrill bugle tell, 
With clang of steel and the unmuffled drum 
And loud huzzas, that victory has come ! 
Fire, fire your guns ! Let deep- toned thunder roll 
Throughout great France, filling each patriot soul 
With Victory's shouts, uprising from the heart, 
Vive la Republic ! Vive le Bonaparte ! 

Vive la Republic ! Vive le Bonaparte ! 


Scene Changes 




ACT III.— Scene First. 

Drawing Room of the Palace Serbelloni. 

Bonaparte and Caulaincourt. 
Discovered reading. 


That this should be permitted is most strange ; 

For we are France 


Their silence proves 
The sympathy of the Directory. 


Are they so blinded to the interests 

Of France, nay, even their own interests 

Most selfish, as to let their jealousy 

Creep in and so despoil them, utterly, 

Of all the vantage they might borrow 

From the lustre of my star ? They cannot think 

That I will patiently endure this ? 

Do they not realize that I have power 

To crush them ? 

{Crushes paper ayid takes another?) 

Here's language bears the imprint of Barras — 


His very words ! Can it be possible 
He should be such a peevish bungler 
As to permit his very tricks of speech 
To thus betray him ? So— So— 

I now recall what you once said of him. 




These were your words : 
That man, whose keenest satisfaction 
Lies in the persecution of his foe, 
Can have no friend he would not sacrifice. 
Though he your shoe may buckle day by day, 
'Tis only that you wear it out for him. 
Such friendship rests upon subserviency. 

I could not trust him. 


I have found rare pastime 

In despising him 


That is unworthy of you, 
Caulaincourt : great souls stoop not to rancor. 
Nor this, nor envy, dwells within the hearts 
Of the truly great. In youth 'tis pardoned, 
But to be outgrown. These wasps may sting us 
And the sting may burn — there's poison in it — 
So, it may fret the skin, but that is all. 


{Reads. ) 
" He keeps the plunder." To whom do they allude? 
** He does affect a heartless despotism, 
Overrides all law ! " Rare rhetoricians ! 
To "affect !" To "affect despotism !" 
What masterly envenomed slander that ! 
I like the knaves and will requite them. 

I am humiliated when I feel 
They have the power to annoy me. 
Ah ! It is the little things that fret ♦ 

And so disturb us, more than all else. 
In the vicissitudes of life. 
Let us look above, beyond them. 
Who lives the butt and sport of daily circumstance 
Is no more than a moth, in sunbeam basking, 
To idlj^ drift, before a vagrant zephyr, 
On to the little death that waits him. 
Philosophy is the one source of strength ; 
For he who can despise or grief or joy, 
With will indomitable, pressing on, 
Unto the goal of his ambition, wins. 
Were't not that he must eat and sleep, I'd say 
A man might come to be great. 

(Enter Josephine and Eugene in wraps?) 
Josephine ! 


{Falls in his arms.) 

My love 


Why, she has fainted ! 
Eugene cannot speak ! What can this mean ? 

That we have saved you. 



Saved us ? From whom ? What ? 


The blackest of conspiracies. 


Well— Well— 



A princely sum is set to bribe your guard 
And make you an unlawful prisoner. 


To bribe my guard ? Golconda could not do it ! 
And is that all ? 


No— No— I'll tell you all. 
Meantime, be sure of those about you. 
Look to my mother ! 


{Regarding Josephine. ) 
Now, if I live, the knaves shall answer this ! 

ACT III.— Scene Second. 


Palace of Serbelloni. 

A Large Salon, Divided into Three Rooms by Marble Columns. 

Discovered — 

lu room farthest back : 
Military Officers and group of Ladies and Gentlemen. 

In middle room : 

Josephine and Ladies of rank, Marshals and Generals, 

Murat, Massena, Duroc, Ney, Lannes, Besseires, Desaix, Kleeber, 

Augereau and Kugene. 

{^Enier in front roo7n Bona 
parte and Caidaincoiirt .') 
{Caulaincourt passes into second 
7vo?n. Joseplmie co77ies doum 
ce7it7'e a7id joi7is Bonaparte i7i 

fr07lt 7V0171.) 


Y love ! 


{Rega7'di7ig her.) 
Now had Apollo patterned from th}' mold, 
His daughters had been lovelier ! 
Nay, could I pick from out the universe, 


Other than thee, though dowered with a world, 
Witness, sweet heaven, I would not change my choice ! 

{^He presses her hand to his lips; 
then leads her np stage and is 
met by Eugene, Caulaincourt , 
Ney, Augereaii, Miirat, Mas- 
sena, Lannes and Desaix, 7vho 
cojne into front looin.) 

Have you made answer to the Duke of Parma ? 


The Duke of Parma is unfortunate ; 

But, left where he is now, will do no harm, 

And, doubtless, will serve well our purposes. 

But he is a Bourbon, General. 


Well, then, he is a Bourbon ! 

Has nature, therefore, gifted him the less? 

Is't so despicable a family ? 


Because three Bourbons have been killed in France, 

Follows it we must hunt the others down ? 

Can'st punish France for the crimes of the Sans Culottes? 

Proscriptions falling thus upon a name, 

A family, a class, I shall not approve. 

The Bourbons plot continually against you. 



And, if they do ? May they, then, not be won ? 
They are Frenchmen. 


To be a Frenchman — 

Is glorious ! And stranger to defeat. 


War is the grandest of professions ! 


War is horrible ! You can bear witness 
I ever courted peace, save in dishonor. 
My tastes were for the arts and sciences ; 
^y Joy> the full prosperity of France. 
War is the resort of Barbarism ! 


Are we, then, barbarians ? 


Not so. 
We have but fought in righteous self-defense. 
The allied powers of despotism sought 
To crush the Republic. We have vanquished them, 
And are invaders, through necessit}^ 
You all know I have oft implored for peace, 
Aye, even on the battle-field, when victory 
Perched with our eagles. Their answer 
Has been insult and new coalitions 


Of the Powers. In less than one year's time, 
Have they not sent five powerful armies 
To o'er whelm us? 

Each several army we have quite destroyed 
And then have honorably plead for peace. 
Still, 'tis denied us, and we can but fight. 

{^En ter Oria n i a it en dcd. ) 
(7<? Oriani.^ 
Monseigneur, you are welcome ! 


Ah ! General, this magnificence 
With which you are surrounded dazes me ! 


Can it be such miserable splendors blind 
A man who every night does contemplate 
The far more lofty and impressive glories 
Of the skies ? 

( En ter Ma nfredin i a tten ded. ) 

( To Ma nfredin i. ) 

And can w^e serve your Grand Duke ? 


Before the conqueror of Itah^ 

The General most excellent of France, 

Most humbly does our Grand Duke bow ; 

A fervent friendship sends he, greeting. 

And in humility. 

Through his Embassador, our Grand Duke begs 

To know the pleasure of great France 

Regarding Tuscany. 



Signer Marquis ; 
Of that rare creditor you do remind me 
Who once did importune in modest phrase, 
Coupled with flattery and confidence, 
The Cardinal de Rohan when he would 
Be " kind enough" to pay him. " My dear Sir," 
Said the Cardinal, " I pray you do not be 
So very curious. ' ' 

{TiDiis to Caulai7ico2irt.) 

I am tired of this jugglery ! 

The Ambassadors of Venice wait without. 


If they the treasures of Peru should proffer me 
'T would not atone the blood their treacher}^ 
Has cost ni}^ soldiers ! 

My soldiers are my children— they have murdered them ! 
The Lion of St. Mark must lick the dust ! 
Say that to Venice I will be an Attila ! 

Enter Mme. De StaeL) 


(^Approaeliing De StaeL) 

Madame ! 

{^She leads her to Bonaparte .) 

(^To Bonaparte.) 

You have not forgotten our great friend ! 

De Stael. {Aside.) 

Clever ! 


Not while I remember France. 

De Stael. 
Ah, General, 3^011 do exalt me ! 

Genius itself does nominate. 

De Stael. 

Among the ancients was this true, indeed, 

And virtue was permitted to take rank. 

To seek the plaudits, the esteem of Rome 

Was reckoned worth}- of ambition ; 

But now when one may glide by stealth to glory 

All powerful is mediocrity. 


Patience, Madame, since to the truly great 
Death lends the grand perspective. 

De Stael. 

And still we make our own comparisons. 
Now, tell me, General, whom should you name 
The greatest of all women in fair France ? 


The mother who has nobly borne to France 
Her sons. 

De Stael. 

Like England's famous King, 

'Twould seem that you lack soldiers. 

{Laughing ?) 


What France lacks most is virtuous, true womanhood. 
Let me turn questioner. What seek you, then, 
With your great talents and pre-eminence ? 

De Stael. 

The companionship of genius you deny me — 
The official muse of your great Iliad. 


In raising you to the high dignity 

Of my antagonist, I have aggrandized you. 

De Stael. 

Ah, yes, a cruel fate you give to me — 
I shall have a few lines in your history ! 


But not as my Delilah ! Xor yet shall you. 
As Egypt's queen, have place on history's page 
Because you wrecked the soldier 
Of our Modern Rome. 

{^Enter an officer of Chasseurs, 
He goes to Bonaparte gives dis- 
patch and exits. Bonaparte 
reads the dispatch.) 

De Stael. {Aside.) 

I have met but one great man, ruler of souls, 

And he is the one tj^rant of my life. 

I do regret I spoke so bitterly — 

But why should I repent ? What matters it ? 

I who may have a nation at my feet, 


Princes for slaves, and kings at my command ! 

Can he despise me ? 

Wliat though I did offend him ? It is nothing — 

Nothing — he cannot quite ignore me — 

What, then, and if he should? What matters it? 

And if he should ? What strange emotion this ? 

My heart stands still^Ignore me ! 

(^Duruig the speech of De Stael, 
Bo7ia parte has hurriedly 7'ead 
the dispatch, zvrites and, at the 
concliLsion of her aside, ap- 
proaches her.) 


{^To De Stael.) 

Madame, France owes you much. You will be pleased 
To increase her obligations. This paper 
Contains instructions to that end, Madame. 
We have made you our Ambassador. 

{He hayids her the paper 
and passes to fosephine.) 

De Stael. 

{Reads, aside.) 
'' Mnie. De Stael : 

My information warrants your immediate arrest. 
It is my desire to save you from humiliation. Be 
pleased, Madame, to withdraw at once. You will find 
an officer in attendance at your carriage who will con- 
duct you beyond the lines of my army. Your future 
safety will lie outside of the confines of France. 


{To Bo7iaparte.) 

Your embassage is weighty, yet will I bear it. 

I take my honored leave and shall report 

Right speedily. {Exit De Stael.) 



{Aside to Bonaparte.) 
I fear, love, you have erred. 


A paltry error — 
Well, what taatters it ? 

At worst, what was she but a gossiper? 


Twixt gossip and intrigue there's fellowship 
Doth make blood brotherhood. 


A woman's eyes best see a woman's heart — 

She loved you and opposing you but sought 

First to command attention bj- her wit, 

Then your respect by her great cleverness, 

Your admiration by audacity. 

Building on these with all the subtle charms 

The brilliant genius of a woman may 

She hoped to win, but did not seek to wrong. 

Such creatures are incapable of love. 

(yEnter the Princess Augusta.) 


Are all friends ? 

(y Josephine rings. Enter a page 
ivho closes curtain between first 
and second roonis.) 



Base villainy and black ingratitude ! 




The plot was deeper laid than did appear, 
Completer in detail and the award 
Offered alike for capture or assassination. 
Botot is superseded and tells all. 

Well — well — How far have they progressed ? 


Not 3'et so far, thanks to Monsieur Botot, 

Or, rather, to his weakness, but they may 

Be eas}^ ta'en in it. Here is a list 

Of the conspirators. 

{Hands the list to Bona- 
parte. He looks it over.) 

So — So! — My enterprising friends ! So — So ! 

We did succeed in sending the dispatch— 

Your messenger was apprehended. 



No time iiiiist now be lost — 

{To Augusta.^ 

Return to Paris and resume your part. 
Require a meeting of these same conspirators. 
How long will't take you to accomplish it ? 


From my arrival ? 




Four and twenty hours. 

You have Barras well in hand. 


I hold the reins. 

There's magic in a pretty woman's smile. 


More power 
In her will. 


Wear both to their full potency. 
Reach Paris on the fifth — upon the sixth 
Bring them together, say at eight 'o the evening. 
Cominand your own attendance — 

{Exit A ugusta . ) 


{To Miirat.) 

Prepare you for our journe^^ General ; 
In four and twenty hours we shall follow — 
Our work must rest here till we may return — 
Thus are our brightest hopes oft made to wait 
Upon the snail-paced tread of destiny. 

{Rings . En ter a page. ) 
My Secretaries ! {Exit page?) 

{Enter three Secretaries.^ 
( They sit at separate tables.) 

{To First Secretary.') 
Citizen Directory : 

I owe you an open confession. My heart is de- 
pressed and filled with horror through the attacks 
of the Parisian journals. 

( To Secon d Seer eta ry . ) 

General Moreau : 

Arrest at once Monsieur Botot and send him to these 

{To Third Secretary.) 
General Joubert : 

Your presence is requested at these headquarters. 

{To First Secretary.) 

I am "keeping the plunder" whilst I am defeating 
them. I "affect despotism" w^hilst I speak only as 
General-in-Chief; I "assume Supreme powder" and yet 
submit to law. Everything I do is turned to crime 
against me. The poison streams over me. 

{To Second Secretary .) 

Let him be attended closely, but let no violence nor 
insult be offered him. 


( To First Secretary.') 

Were any one in Italy to dare give utterance to the 
thousandth part of these calumnies I would impose 
upon him an awful silence. 

( To Th ird Seer eta ry . ) 

Travel in all possible haste. 

( To First Secretary .) 

In Paris this is allowed to go, on unpunished and 
your tolerance is an encouragement. The Directory 
is thus producing the impression that it is opposed to 
me. If the Directors suspect me, let them say so and 
I will justify myself. If they are convinced of my up- 
rightness, let them defend me. 

( To Second Secretary. ) 
Treat him, indeed, right civilly. 

( To First Seer eta ry . ) 

In this circle of argument I include the Directory with 
me, and cannot go beyond it. My desire is to be use- 
ful to my country ; must I, for reward, drink the cup 
of poison ? 

(71? Second Secretary.) 

General Moreau : 

Arrest at once and hold in close confinement the 
friend of Botot, who recently arrived with him from 
France, wearino: a colonel's uniform. 


Of infantry ? 
Of infantry. 

(yTo Josephine.') 




(^To Second Secretary.) 
Of infantry. 

{To First Secretary.) 

I can no longer be satisfied with empty, evasive ar- 
guments ; and if justice is not done to me I must take 
it myself. 

(7<? Third Secretary.) 

General Marmont : 

Arrest at once the Abbe Sergi, and send to these 

( To Second Secretary.) 

General Moreau : 

Let no movement of General Pichegrue be unknown 
to you. He is plotting with the Bourbons. 

{To First Secretary.) 
Therefore, I am yours. Salutation and brotherly love. 
{^Bojiaparte hastily signs the dispatches.) 
{To Caulaincourt.) 

See that these dispatches are sent at once. 

{Turning to his Generals.) 

This artifice 

That instigates employment of assassins — 

{Enter a page. Curtaijis be- 
tiveen first and second rooms 
draivn back. 

The Count Von Coblentz from the Court of Austria. 


Admit him! 

Never was reptile, neath a conqueror's foot 

Could wriggle like the Austrian ! 
The time has come to crush ! 

(^Entcr the Count Von Coblentz?) 

{To Co blent z.^ 

Now, now, another embassy ? 
I am tired of this vacillation 
Heartily ! In fourteen days thus will I dash 
The Austrian Monarch}^ to pieces ! 

{As he speaks the word * ' thus' ' 
he seizes a vase* from the man- 
tel and dashes it to the floor. ) 

{To Caulahiconrt .) 

Say to the Archduke Charles, 
In the name of General Bonaparte, 

The truce is at an end. 


Mercy ! Mercy ! 


Ah ! — Is Austria at m}^ feet >* 
There may she rest in peace ! 


* This vase was of rare value — a gift of The Bnipress Catharine. 

• \ 

MME. DE; STAE;i.. 

ACT IV.~ScENE First. 


Parlors of Mme. Bonaparte. 

Discovered - 

Barras and the Princess Augusta. 



UT tell me now, Sweet, why this present haste? 
Will not to-morrow, or the next day, or — 


The next, or next — within a week, perhaps. 
Or surely by the month's end ! Is it thus 
You would evince your overpowering love, 
That all consuming flame you've fanned so oft 
B3' blowing of 5'our eloquence upon't? 
Would heaven I were a man ! 


An' if you were, my love ? 


I'd be a man ! 
A man contented not with woman's love. 
But only with her worship, as, indeed, 
She'd look up to a demi-god ! 


Bar R AS. 
Now, Sweet ! My little Sweet ! 


Sweet me no sweets ! 
You are only sweet in promises. 

But should I promise to the end you seek ? 

Oh, will you ? 

And if I should ? 

Augusta. . 

And keep it? 


If you then doubt me, wherefore should I promise ! 

I will not doubt you — only promise me ! 

Then — Then — I promise. 


Then you'll meet to-night? 



At eight, say you? 


Even at eight — 
Though 'tis an early hour. 


I can scarce wait for't — 
If I have seemed impatient for this meeting, 
Pardon me ! I am impetuous for thee 
To seize what is thine own ; am selfish 
And I own it. I would be near to thee 
Continually, but cannot be till this, 
Th}' right, is once established. Bear with me 
If I seem over fond ! Thou must rule France ! 


Bear with thee ? " Bear," saidst thou ? Now, by my faith, 
I'd bear thee to earth's end ! 

{Offers to embrace her.) 

Soft, you, my love ! 
Bear, also, a becoming modesty ! 
The hour passes — waste no time, I pray. 
Between this and our happy wedding day. 

All lovers have some time for dalliance. 

Are we, then, of the herd? Learn patience, sir. 


Must I then go ? 

At once. 


Ah, my sweet love ! 

{^Exit Barras.^ 

Now for my page suit — then to follow him. 
If Bonaparte meet no delay — Ah ! Ah ! 
Well, I have played the Count down to the hour, 
So much for will, and one weak woman's power. 

ACT IV.— Scene Second. 
Parlors of Hotel Elboef. 

{Enter Bonaparte and Miirat.) 

^T is upon the hour. 


The Princess will not fail ? 


Fail ! 

Had she skill at arms she has of wit 

I'd give her command of my guard. 

Brave as thou art, thou may'st learn courage of her ; 

True as thou art, she'll teach to thee devotion. 

{Enter Augusta disguised as a page.) 

Well, boy, who bade? — Ha, 'tis a fair disguise ! 


Soft, you ! They're but a w^all away. 
You are well upon the hour. 


An hour, a single moment, late, may lose 
An army. I said I should be here. 



I said they should be here. 

Murat, what think you of her mettle now ? 


This key unlocks the door of the drawing room. 

{Gives key to Bonaparte.) 

Here shall you wait their coming. They'll be here 


{Shows Bonaparte and Murat i7ito 
room, then listens at door.) 

The}^ think this parlor vacant. 
You'll hear their conversation readily — 
The attendants are all mine. An' you command, 
You'll find them trusty. So, God be with you ! 

{She closes door and exits. ) 
{Enter Barras, Goliier, Mojilins 
and Jive other Conspirators.) 


{Cofiti/inino- his speech.) 
S'death ! They did squander gold on Serbelloni ! 
Made it a rival for the Tuileries ! 
All Italy 

And the nobility of Lombardy 
Vied with each other who should humblest be. 
Then follows Montebello in the train, 
Seeking to overtop all rivalry, 
And Venice to appease him makes his spouse 
A veritable queen. Jove, what magnificence ! 
Now have we dallied long^ enouo:h in this — 



What says the General, Pichegrue, 
Touching Moreau ? 

Than pliable. 

He finds him more ready 


Well, well, unfold ! 


Is for Moreau. 

Go riKR. 
What ! Stands he not with us ? 


Only so far as we shall favors grant 
Monsieur Moreau. In his own looking glass. 
Fondly presuming that it is the world, 
He gazes steadily, and cannot comprehend 
Why the great central figure stands not out 
In bold relief to others as to himself. 
Another meeting is appointed now 
With Georges at his safe retreat, Chaillot. 
But poor Rivier is driven to despair 
And talks but of the apathy of France. 


He lacks in courage and tenacity. 
Were't not for Mme. Bonaparte I'd chance 
A fortune on our quick success. 
She has all the eyes of Paris after us, 
And for herself I think she never sleeps. 


Ere this the Corsican's a corpse, or else 
A prisoner. Either event demands 
We make swift preparation for the news — 
First to appease the people — 


But the army ? 


To Pichegrue — 

{^Enter Bonaparte a?id Miirat.) 

How now? Have we surprised you, gentlemen? 


You honor us. General — 





You seem confused ! 

You come quite unannounced — 

It would appear so. 



But you are not 
The less welcome. 


No, none the less welcome— 


Oh, you are very, very welcome — 


Peace ! 
Can it be possible ! Murat, look you 
Upon these men ! For we will call them men — 
Duplicity ne'er had a throne till now. 
Oh, precious knaves ! Was ever innocence 
Protected by more placid mien ? 


Beware ! The voice of the Directory, 
The great Director}^ of France, now rests 
In those 3'ou would accuse ! Look well to it ! 


What ! Threat you us before our very face ? 
Why, here is now assurance worth a cause ! 
" Beware !" Oh, most refreshing ! 
" Beware !" Wh}^ now, Murat, this is sublime ! 
When, 'neath the shadows of the Pyramids, 
W^e'U have this to inspire us, this " Beware !" 

{^Barras mid co7ispirators 
draw, Murat drazvs.) 


Have at them ! Let us finish here. 

(^Thcy rush upon Bonapai'te, Mu- 
ral advances to meet them. Bona- 
parte Looks upon them and 
they fall back.) 


{To Miirat.) 

When did you fall so low 
That you would put yourself 'gainst carrion ? 
Austria would refuse to cross your sword 
Wearing such blood upon it ! 

Hear me, now, 

{To Cojispirators.) 

You miserable hangers on of time ! 

You would-be arch-conspirators, 

But that you lack both wit and valor for it ; 

I will not send you to the guillotine — 

You are too base; to exile, for there's not 

A land I'd curse with you ; nor yet to dungeons ! 

No, you shall live, as other monstrous things, 

But, unlike them, you shall dwell in the light. 

As they would prosper in a noisome cell 

So shall you not, feeding on martyrdom ; 

As they would blister in the noontide sun 

So shall you blister in the glare of honesty 

Till, when through every maddening memory, 

Remorse shall sting you to the soul's quick core. 

Unknown, not e'en dispised, each one of you 

Shall crawl in his own slime down to oblivion ! 

Begone ! 

{Exit conspirators, Bona- 
parte regarding- them .^ 



I had enjoyed some pastime with the dogs 


The hydra had not felt the loss. These heads 

Were quick replaced. We'll strike the monster's heart ! 

That's England ! 


But are these powerless ? 


No. And yet less powerful than those 

Who would take their places. Even these 

Have the ear of the people. This act will prompt 

To rashness, then the people are with us. 

The Army's ours already ! 

ACT IV.— Scene Third. 
A Street in Paris. 


Discovered — 

Barras and Gohier. 


"S all ready ? 

Waiting for his coming. 


Then shall we see 
If now his "Goddess" will protect him. 
Carbon and St Rejeant, are they still firm ? 

I have reserved the sum we promised them. 

Who will apply the torch ? 


St. Rejeant 's self. 


The Place ? 


The Rue St. Nicaise. 


Can they fail ? 


Impossible ! 

Carbon and I^imoelan will watch 

The progress of the Consul's carriage, 

As it shall leave the Tuileries, 

Till time to give the signal to St. Rejeant. 


Let us be gone — the time approaches — 

We must not be seen, 

(As they go off a rumblmg noise is 
heard, follozved by the appearance 
of the guard and carriage of Bona- 
parte. The scene changes to the 
Rne St. Nicaise where a cart is 
discovered ivith infernal machine 
in it, a little girl holding the horse 
and St. Rejeant off at one side. 
The carriage passes, after which 
thejx is a?i explosion, destroying 
cart and child. Scene changes 
back, ivhe7i the consiiV s carriage is 
discovered passing safely.^ 

{Re-enter Barras and Gohier.) 


He did escape us ! 


But all hell's power shall not save him. 


We'll find no time for napping from this time out. 

Then to 3'our wits. 


I tremble so 
I don't collect my wits. 


S'death! Man! 
Only the boldest front can serve us now. 


A fellow must be brave to look it well. 


Join me to-morrow in the council — 

Bring all your stock of courage, for you may 

Have need of it. 


How now ? 


How now? How now? Why, damn it, nothing now ' 
But then ! Then ! Then !— By hell, I swear, that then 
In presence of them all I will arraign him 
For high treason ! Come, let us mature it — 
'Tis a bold venture. 

ACT IV.— Scene Fourth. 
Ante-Room of the Council Chamber. 

Discovered — 

Bonaparte, Caulaincourt, Eugene, Murat, Lannes, 
Lefebre and Devoust. 



{Contimdng his speech. 

ND thus is stands ; 

When the Republic trembled in the grasp 

Of the combined strength of all the thrones, 
Then rushed we to the rescue and our arms 
Did win the grandest victories of time. 
From anarchy the Constitution rose 
And spread its ample wings o'er our beloved France. 
A god-like impulse sent us then to Egypt 
In the noblest enterprise and most magnificent 
Man for his fellowmen has e'er conceived. 
Had we then won, we had knocked off the chains 
Of Asia's countless millions. From slavery 
The basest, crudest, we had lifted them 
To all the glorious possibilities 
Of intellectual, enlightened freedom ; 
Made of them men, infused with energy, 
Assisted them to the development 
Of all that Science, Art and noble purpose 
Could wrest from inexhaustible resource. 
We had builded such an empire in the orient 
As Earth had never dreamed of. 


In the midst of victories unparalleled 

We were compelled to give o'er that great cause 

To rescue France from parricides — 

The Constitution's gone and Anarchy 

Reigns everywhere. 


Command us ! 


Ah, gentlemen, what Vv^oeful sight is this ! 
Prosperity and Peace left we in France, 
A name the synonym of martial glory. 
We find her rent with strife, while wicked hands 
Rifle her coffers and pollute her honor. 
Creatures of foreign states sit in her councils. 
The very air is pestilent with treason ! 
We must strike, or all is lost. 

The Council's in a tumult. 

Gentlemen, we will end it ! 

{E7iter a Courier.') 

{Exit Courier.) 


ACT IV.— Scene Fifth. 
The Counxil of the Five Hundred. 





HEN let me in conclusion urge 

A new election. The fate of France, 
No less, depends upon it. 

First Member. 

No ! No ! No ! 
Such haste shows base cowardice ! 

Second Member. 

Shame ! Shame ! 

{Cheers on the right.) 

Third Member. 

Such language is an insult to the council ! 

{Cheers on the left.) 

The President. 
This strife must cease ! 'Twill end in anarchy ! 


I rise to ask the member if his charge 
Of cowardice means to appl}^ to men 
Or measures ? 


First Member. 
To both ! 


Then I hurl it back and challenge to a test ! 

{^Grcat confusion.) 

This is madness ! Are we devoid of reason ? 
Who is to profit b}^ this senseless strife ? 
The great Republic? No ! Nor you, nor I, 
Nor either of our factions ! Who seeks 
The good of France ? 

First Member. 
Not Barras. 

Third Member. 

Bah ! Bah ! Bah ! 

First Member. 
Conspirator ! Behold the arch-con«=:pirator ! 

Conspirator ! Conspirator ! 

I ask again — 
First Member. 
Show us your purse of English Gold ! 

Second Member. 

Treason ! Treason ! 



Are ye not Frenchmen ? I ask again : 

Who seeks the good of France ? Then let him. now. 

Propose a sacrifice that he will make, 

And I will clasp his hand and go with him. 

What, then, are we, through passion, to lose all ? 

In this extremity shall we invite 

Foul anarchy ? The usurper comes 

By stealthy strides — Even now is at our gates. 

{Ejitcr Bonaparte and Miwat.) 

Behold ! At the very word he comes ! 
Away with him ! 

Third Member. 

Down with him ! 

Another Member. 

He is a traitor ! 

Another Member. 
Cromwell ! 

A Multitude of Voices. - 

Down with the usurper ! 

( Wild confusion.') 
Citizens ! Hear me ! 

Down with him ! Traitor ! Traitor ! Usurper ! 

Will you not hear me 

1 06 



No ! No ! Down with him ! 

{T/icy draic and rush upon him. 
Members rise, shotting and gestic- 
tilating wildly. The conspirators 
croivd aronnd Bonaparte threaten- 


Back, slaves ! Within this form throbs the quick heart 

Of France, protected by the awful power 

Of the assembled w^orlds ! I^o, in these hands 

I grasp the thunderbolts of Fate ! 

( They fall back. Murat signals 
the grenadiers at the door and they 
surround Bonaparte.) 


Down with the usurper ! He brings soldiers 
To overawe us. 


Who loves me, let him follow me ! 

{^He advances to the President's 
chair. The conspirators make a 
show of violence, biit are quickly 

Arrest the conspirators. 

In the name of France and Bonaparte ! 

{Barras, Colder, Moulins, Second 
and Third Members and others are 
surrounded by the grenadiers.) 


So, gentlemen, at last 3'ou measure strength with me ! 
Awa}' with them ! 

{^Exeunt grenadiers and prisoners.) 
Goddess above all I thank thee ! 
Sweet France, now will I give thee power 
Shall grasp the globe ! Starred with thy vassal states 
Thy canopy shall measure glory 
With the dome of worlds ! 


ACT v.— Scene First. 
An Ante-Room of Notre Dame. 


{Enter * Bonaparte, Caulaineourt^ Eu- 
gene, Murat, Lannes, and Ney.) 


HUS, though we foes destro}' without, within 
Still for our loved Republic, there's no peace ; 
The Powers still plot our overthrow. 


Vive I'Armee ! 


Shall we, then, fight interminablj^ ? 

Are men created but for slaughter? Pah ! 

What boots it though we vanquish, o'er and o'er, 

The Allied Powers, their creatures in our midst? 

We are already- wear}' of our victories. 

What, though, from Chaos we should build again 

The Constitution and the outward forms 

Proclaiming the Republic ? Is't stronger 

Than the Consulate ? Nav, nor vet weaker ; 

* "Bonaparte was magnificently attired in a costume after the 
style of the XVI Century, designed by the greatest painter of his day. 
He wore a plumed hat and short mantle and did not assume the Im- 
perial costume until the Coronation Ceremony." 

— Thiers. 

Each to the world is equal in offense. 

France must needs have fair peace and such employ 

As shall give life to the Industries and Arts 

And Science and Philosophy. 

Give us ten years of peace and our advance 

Will astound the world more than our victories. 

Peace ? Is it then possible ? 


The Powers war not against France, but the Republic, 
The Consulate, or any form, save Monarchy. 
We'll rob them of all pretense of offense ! 
Fate wills — We do but execute. 


ACT V. — Scene Second. 


The Coronation. 


UPON the opening of this scene is discovered the in- 
terior of Notre Dame, decorated with unequaled 
magnificence. The throne of the Emperor and Em- 
press represents a sort of monument within a monument 
between two columns, supporting a pediment upon which 
is a representation of the Crown of Charlemagne. 

On the left is seen the throne designed for the Pope, over 
which is a pediment supporting a diamond cross. 

Directly in front of either throne, and in the centre of the 
stage, is the Altar, on which are seen the Imperial Robes, 
the Sword, the Scepter and the Imperial Crowns. 

Enter Pope Pius VII., 
Preceded b}^ the Cross and attended by the Sixty Prelates 
of the French Church, as the musicians chant the ''Tu es 
Pctnis. ' ' He kneels at the altar and then ascends his throne. 
The Prelates approach, salute him and arrange them- 
selves on his right and left. 

Enter * Napoleon and Josephine, 
Attended by the Bonaparte family, Eugene, Augusta, and 
maids of honor. Generals and high dignitaries. 

Napoleon and Josephine approach the altar and kneel. 

* "At this stage of the ceremony Napoleon wore only the crown of 
the Caesars, namely, a simple golden laurel. All admired that noble 
head, noble beneath that golden laurel as some antique medallion." 

— Thiers. 


The Pope 

Descends from his throne and comes to the altar, lifting his 
hands over them in blessing. 


Raises his head and is anointed b}- the Pope on forehead, 
arms and hands. 

The Pope 

Takes the sword and blesses it and, as Napoleon rises, girds 
it npon him. 

The Pope then offers to take up the crown, but Napoleon 
suddenly reaches it himself and deliberately places it upon 
his own head. He then takes the crown of the Empress 
and, as she is still kneeling at his feet, places it with visible 
tenderness upon her head . Taking her by the hand, she arises. 

The Pope i 

Blesses the Scepter and places it in the hand of Napoleon. 

The Emperor and Empress 

Are invested in the Imperial Robes and ascend their throne. 

The Arch-Chanceleor 

Approaches the throne and, presenting a Bible, Napoleon 
reverently places his hand upon it. 

The Pope 

chanting the " Vivat in (Ttcynum semper Augustus'' of 
Charlemagne, advances to the throne, lifting his hands in 




ACT v.— Scene Third. 

The Imperial Palace. 

emperor's cabinet. 

Napoleon Discovered. 


THUS far hath Fate fulfilled her covenant— 
From conquest on to conquest hath She led me. 
'Till now my Sceptered power, invincible, 
With glory crowns a greater France — My France ! 

But at what price ? What sighs ! What tears ! 
What anguish ! What despair ! What soul-defeat ! 
The wailing of a Continent is heard — 
The cost of the Empire —The price of Peace ! 

And soon shall come, even for Thy son, 
Oh, Fate, the end decreed for all ! And then ? 
On whom shall the Imperial Mantle rest ? 
Childless, thou leavest me to reign alone ! 
Across the abyss of death, no hand can reach 
To sustain the Throne of France ! 

Do they, the jealous and malignant Gods, 
Combine 'gainst us? O'er Thee may none prevail ! 
Bear, then, oh. Goddess, swift as His lightnings, 
Even to the great throne of the Thunderer, 
Defiance ! 


So let our bond become inseparable — 

Subdue the Immortals, thou, the earth 

Leave unto me ! 

Now will I bridge the chasm over death — 

An heir born in The Purple must take up 

My work, whose hand shall still sustain th}- throne, 

Dear France ! A3'e ! Though it cost me Josephine ! 

( En fe?- Joseph in c . ) 
Josephine ! — My peerless one ! 


Did'st call me love? Wherefore with voice so wild, 
So sorrowful ? 


Oh, do not leave me ! 

My noble one ! Knowest thou not my love ? 

Thou must not go ! 


Are we not one ? 
What power could separate us? Oh, my own ! 
Upon that altar touched by God's right hand, 
Love kindled into flame a holy fire 
Has melted into oneness our two souls ! 
There is no power can separate us now ! 

Napoleon. * 

Would that it had consumed my mortal part 
And but a trace remained, a throb, a thought, 


Whatever form a soul is purest in, 
That it might now be buried in thy soul 
And find its heaven there eternally ! 


Oh, my dear love ! 


Men call me great. 
And yet if tney did know what greatness costs ! 
He may not know who has not paid the price ! 

Dear love, am I so much to thee ? 


Thou art to me the epitome of life — 
There is no God if love be not His breath ! 


Confess I dare not all thou art to me— 
I fear— I fear that I do worship thee ! 

Oh, France! France! France! Now dost thou ask too much ! 


Nay, come ! Thou must be strong ! My dear, dear love I 


ACT v.— Scene Fourth. 
Drawing Room of the Empress. 

{E?iter Eugene and Augusta.) 

\ ND this — and this is greatness ! 


Ah ! Yes. But are we the happier? 


No ! Let us confess it, no, Augusta ! 
In the attaining, not in the thing attained, 
Our happinesses come. The souls unrest 
Cannot be satisfied. 


But we have reached 
A careful height, so let us bask, Love, 
In our lirde glory. — Why do you sigh? 

My sigh was for the Empress, not her son. 

What ! Has the Emperor declared himself? 


No, not in words. 

By act, then ? Tell me all 


I left my mother a short hour ago ; 
She had sent for me and when I met her, 
Fell upon my neck and, weeping bitterly. 
Told me she could no longer hope — bade me 
Try, with her, to feel that this great sacrifice 
Was but her part for France. 

Has he, then, signified his purpose? 

She but infers it from his manner, 


Ah! yes, I see — He is overfond, 
Demonstrative. Caresses her 
As though 'twere but a little day preceding 
A long absence, and in an hundred ways 
Betrays himself. Alas ! Poor Empress ! 


This interview and my unhappy dream 
Have left me almost fitted for despair. 

A dream ? An unhappy dream ? 



Last night I dreamed our Paris was besieged ; 

I, second in command, had been to inspect 

The outposts. The night wore on towards morning, 

When a sound as of the distant roaring 

Of artiller}', drew my attention 

To the South and East — The cloudless heavens 

Were glorious with stars — Louder, deeper 

The terrible reverberation rolled. 

Nearer, until the very dome of heaven 

Seemed to tremble. Then, through the vaulted azure 

Rushed chariots of war, drawn by fierce steeds 

Whose dilate nostrils sent forth lightnings. 

Until the sun from out a sea of blood 

Leaped forth a world of fire ! 

The Emperor, with folded arms, the w^hile. 

Strode to and fro upon the parapet, 

Regarding silently. But as the sun 

Came forth, he stumbled, fell, 

Without the battlements. 

Nay, Dear, be not cast down ! 


I can no longer bear this hateful masque ! 
If Love and Power may not go hand in hand 
Then farewell Power ! I'll seek obscurity. 
Oh, let us flee this miserable place 
Before our loves become contaminate 
With the infection of these heavy hours ! 
Put thy dear hand in mine, my precious wife ; 
And with our grief-bowed mother we will seek 
That richest prize of earth. Contentment, 
With Love and Peace and all the blessed saints 
That cluster round the hearthstone of a home. 



Ah ! Do not tempt me from m}^ destiny ! 

My woman's heart pleads but to obey, 

Aye, happily anticipate obedience ! 

You know I love you, dearer than my life ; 

But shall we now forsake the Emperor, 

When most he needs us ? The Emperor is France ! 

Then you will not go with us ? 


Oh, Eugene ! 
I pra}^ you do not put me to a test 
Twixt Love and Duty » 

Your duty's to your love. 

Not when my love counsels against my duty. 


ACT v.— Scene Fifth. 
Emperor's Cabinet. 

Napoleon, discovered, asleep on a couch, Josephine sitting by him. 


IN thy soft arms, 
Oh, hold him tenderly, sweet, gentle sleep ! 
Hover above him, spirits of the blest. 
On waves seolian, and touch his soul 
With your divinest symphonies ! 
Let Lethe's spray in dewy showers fall 
The while, may rays of hope shine through and show 
A bow of promise on the heavy clouds 
That now shut out our heaven ! 

Noble brow ! 
Realm of fair genius, throne of a lofty soul ! 
Ah, could I lift thy sorrows as I lift 
These silken locks ! 

Splendid orbs ! Where rests your glory now ? 
Precious lips ! How oft my vSoul has melted 
On you ! 

{^Kisses him. She starts to go, but 
stops at exit and hears ivakiiig 
speech of Napoleon.^ 
(^Napoleon starts from his dream.) 


Aye ! Aye ! 'Spite of the Immortal Gods ! 
Had every God the power of mighty Jove, 


All leagued against my cause, 3'et will I hold 
The scepter of Great France ! My France! 
'Tis I, Napoleon ! 

{Discovers Josephine. ) 

Ha ! Josephine ! 
Why did'st thou leave me ? Thou art my faith, 
The safety of my soul ! 

Dear Love ! 


Why, here are traces of thy tears — 
Would I could weep ! 


Nay, I will weep for thee — 
Thou must be strong ! 

Strong ? Teach me thy strength ! 


Dear God ! 


Josephine, what is eternity ? 
Thou saidst, once, I should join thee there. 

Yes — Yes — 

That we never should be separated there — 


Yes — Yes — 


Are we not selfish, then, in this, 
And weak of soul to grieve ? A little while, 
Only a little while and all is done. 

A world awaits our action — 
IvOok up ! Look up ! Or bid me cur.^e myself ! 

(^She looks up into Jiis face. He 
gazes earnestly into hers, tJien em- 
braces her in great emotion, lays 
her upon the couch, regarding her 
as he goes off the stage.) 

(Josephine rises from couch.) 


Ah, siren Hope, no more ! Else tune thy lyre 

To a dirge ! Sweet music is for those 

Who live, or here, or on the other side, 

But for the dying sing a requiem ! 

Ah, thy soft voice has touched my trusting heart 

So oft that now the touch does wound where once 

It had the power to heal ! Peace ! Away ! — 

Alone ! 

lyast, only comfort, when the heart is crushed, 

To be alone ! — Come, now, my soul. 

We will sit us down and nurse our loneliness. 

{She sits on tlie floor.) 
Ah, Grief, thou art the only heir that I could bear ! 
I hold thee to my breast — Now feed and take 
The life that gave thee life ! Thou wast brought forth 
In pain, thou givest pain in nursing. 
Yet I hug thee close, for thou wast born of him. 
My only treasure, thou, and thou 'It not depart — 


And none will take thee from me — There's no one 
Covets thee — Thou art welcome only here, 
Here on thy mother's breast. 
Ah, Grief, my babe, thy lips are cold. 
Cold, cold thy form ! Cold as dead love- 
No, No ! His love's not cold ! He loves me I 

But, oh, he does not know how thou hast grown, 
Feeding upon the currents of my life, 
Until thou art so heavy — He does not know — 
Ah ! Ah ! He shall not know ! 

He is my world 
I cannot give him up ! No ! No ! No ! 
Oh, mv God ! 



Thou cling' St so close, my baby ! 
Nay, feed on ! Where shall we go, my baby? 
Feed on — Feed on — 

{She stops at the door observing the 
entrance of Napoleon a7id starts 
toward him, but checks herself, 
remains and is then discovered by 
Napoleon as indicated^ 

{R,e-enter Napoleon. He sits at 
table, paper and ivritirig material 
before him. Shows great mental 
distress and finally takes np pen to 
write. The pen drops from his 


{Regarding his hand.) 

Thou wouldst not tremble so 
To sign my death warrant ! Thou hast been firm, 
Unfaltering, 'mid battle's din and roar, 
And frightful cries of souls crushed out of men ; 
When to write one word, the voice of armies, 


Spoke the doom of States — But one word, a name — 
'Tis easy writ : Napoleon ! 

i^Rc- takes pen . Regards the drop of i)ik.) 
Hternit}^ embraced within a drop ! 
Ah, little world, thou tremblest on a point ! 

(T/ie drop of ink falls from the pen.') 
It has fallen ! My world is shattered ! — 

Why, this is madness ! Am I then so weak? 
Is this Napoleon ? — 

The hand that holds the destiny of France 
Should bear a steadier nerve ! 
Thou hast shown thy loyalty to Josephine — 
Now^ what thou owest to France ! 

{He ivrites.) 
'Tis done ! 

{As Napoleon says '''Tis done'' 
and rises, the manuscript falls to 
the floor, the word DIVORCE is 
discovered zcritten upon it. Jose- 
phine falls. N^apoleon discovers 
her as he exclaims.) 
Now P'ate, thou hag of hell, defy me ! 


ACT VI.— Scene First. 
Parlors of the Tuileries. 

Discovered — 

Talleyrand, Mole, Cambaceries and Fouche. 
Augusta discovered at one side. 


HIS silence bodes no good, I warrant you. 


Pray you, how should it bode or good or ill? 
Are we reduced to omens, gentlemen ? 


' ' Omens " or nothing an' you come to it. 
The wilds of Russia, the incessant snows 
And such protracted silence, all invite 
Forebodings of disaster. 


Well, then, I'll not 
Accept the invitation. 

Nor yet shall I. 


Nor I. 


I only trust you may not be compelled to, 


The Emperor has, doubtless, got his hands fall ; 
What with the Russian and the early snows. 
We'd pardon him to forget us for the while. 

Your clemency will scarcely find occasion — 


You think, then, 'tis from policy, alone. 
His silence ? 


Too oft has he been tried 
To be judged otherwise. 


Now is this true — 
The General reigns on the battlefield 
The while, in the affairs of state the Emperor. 
I' the heat of the fight he sends commands to us 
In every department of the state. 


A day, or two, at most, will surely bring 
Some tidings from him. 


Surely we trust so. 
But you that hope for glory in this war 
Are hopefuller than I. 

{E7iter Metteryiich.) 
Ah, gentlemen ! What news from Russia ? 

None, none whatever — Not a single word ! 

'Twill come by doubles, presently. 

Aye, freighted with a score of victories ! 


{To Fouche.) 

Shall we go in to the banquet ? 

{Exit Cambaccries and Fouche.^ 


{To Mettemich?) 

A word with you. 

{Exit Ta lleyra n d and Met tern ich . ) 

These two mean little good for us. 


ACT VI.— Scene Second. 

The Tuileries. 

private parlors of the empress. 



{Enter the Princess Aicgusta and Maids.) 


HIS terrible suspense will quite outwear 
The little strength that's left me ! 

First Maid. 

Dear Princess ! 
The Emperor's too great to be o'erthrown. 


Ah ! Ah ! A dark foreboding masters me — 
A weight I may not lift burdens my soul ! 
Even while we speak the Emperor and Eugene, 
Upon the cold earth in the wilds of Russia, 
May both lie suffering or dead ! 

First Maid. 

Sweet Princess, do not lend yourself to grief! 
You must have rest — 


Woo as I may, 1 cannot win repose. 

( Co7ifoision without. ) 
What can this mean ? Confusion in the Tuileries ! 

{Enter Napoleon in wraps.) 

Princess ! 

{Embraces her.) 

Why do you thus surprise us ? Are you well ? 

We do surprise you quite against our will — 
But all is well, else, indeed, were it not. 
Yet, all's gone ill, Augusta — All's gone ill ! 



All— All— The army's gone ! 


Where — Where — 


Whence it may not return — 
To the final glory that awaits 
The soldier. 

But Eugene — Where is Eugene ? 


Eugene is spared to us and follows close — 
How fares Josephine ? 


Alas, poor lady ! 
Her heart is ever with you, and her tears 
Have w^ell nigh drained the fountain of her life. 


Ah ! Ah ! Poor Josephine ! Alas ! Alas ! 

She gave her life a willing sacrifice 

And I, with my own hands, tore out her heart 

And mine and laid them bleeding on the shrine 

Of France ! 

But to what end ? That the hell hounds of Fate, 

The damned hag, should lick the flames up 

From that altar's crest, to follow hot 

Upon my track forever after ! 

I pray you go — would I could go myself — 

And tell her all — 

Tell her that I am well and very strong ; 

For since my heart was sacrificed with hers 

I have no heart to suffer — So commend me. 

( To Second Maid.) 
I will set out at once — summon my escort. 


What of our Ministers ? 


{Giving Memorandum?) 

Therein you'll find. Sire, what I've noted. 

I hope my fears wrong Talleyrand. 

{Exit Maid.) 


The soul of a pure woman is oracular — 
'Tis the defense that nature has provided. 

{Glances over Memorandum . ) 
So — So — I had suspected him. 
Three hours brings the dawn — I'll rest till then. 
Please you have summoned all my ministers. 

{Exit Aiignsta.) 
{Napoleon throzvs himself on couch.) 

ACT VI.— Scene Third. 
Parlors of the Tuileries. 


Talleyrand, Mole, Montalivet, Cambaceries, Fouclie, 
and others. 


{Eriter Napoleoji, attended by 
Caulaincoiirt, Duke of Vicenza.) 


HAVE returned to you ! The army rests — 


Terrible ! 

At best, we can but win what they have gained — 
Shall we, then, grieve for our soldiers? 

All's lost ! 

Oh, no ! We have our Talleyrand ! 

We have, indeed, our Emperor ! 


The army was invincible — Our march 

To Moscow a continuous triumph ! 

As 'neath the sun of glorious Austerlitz 

Melted the mighty legions of the Czar ! 

In twenty battles did we vanquish them 

And drove them from their ancient capitol — 

To resist us was impossible 

To mortal power ! But what mortals could not, 

Could the elements — The Army's 'neath the snows ! 

Brave Caulaincourt shall tell you what remains — 

He shall have leisure while we re-create 

The army. 


Do you still hope to win, Sire ? 


Hope? No ! The Emperor wills ! To will's to do — 
To do is but to will and it is done ! 
Impossible 's a word he never knew. 

(^To Montalivet.) 

Montalivet, what of the Interior? 


Your instructions, Sire, have been obeyed — 
France never was more prosperous. 

Our Population 



Is undiminished by the demands of war- 
The past decade shows an increase. 

Our Industries ? 


By your instructions, Sire, they have been advanced. 

Our Manufactures ? 


Have prospered, Sire, beyond our greatest hopes. 

Our Agriculture ? 


Our Agriculture is far in advance, 
Greatly augmenting products of the soil ; 
Cattle are multiplied, all breeds improved, 
Horses and every useful animal. 
Improvements, Sire, in all the useful Arts, 
Experiments in every branch of labor, 
And methods that have promised good results, 
We have fostered. Sire, as thou didst direct. 


{To Mole:) 

Count Mole, what of our Finance? 

Your methods, Sire, make us inexhaustible. 

We have spent princely sums in the last decade ! 


And may spend princelier in the next decade. 


Your confidence reflects a zealous love. 


My confidence is built upon my Kmperor ! 


{^Speaking wholly from memory 
throughout this investigatmi.) 

Beyond what it has cost to defend ourselves against 
these enforced wars we have spent sixty-two million five 
hundred thousand francs on public buildings. 


{Consulting mcmorajidum in each 
of the answers that follow.) 
Yes, Sire. 


One hundred and twenty-five million francs on seaports, 
docks and harbors. 

Yes, Sire. 


On roads and highways one hundred and seventy-five 
million francs. 

Yes, Sire. 


On bridges in Paris and in the departments thirtj^-one 
million two hundred and fifty thousand francs. 


Yes, Sire. 


On canals, embankments and drainage of lands, one hun- 
dred and twenty-five million francs. 


You are two hundred thousand francs in error, Sire — a 
bagatelle compared with the general sum. 

One hundred million francs in public works in Paris. 

Yes, Sire. 


And one hundred and fifty million francs on public build- 
ings in the departments. 


Yes, Sire. 


Why, 'tis almost a thousand million francs we have 
used in the improvements and embellishment of France ! 


* Sire ; if, from the age o' the Medici, 

Or our own Louis Fourteenth, one could come 
To gaze upon our marvelous achievements, 
He'd ask : How mau}^ ages of fair peace 
Did'st take to accomplish it? The answer : 

* Twelve years of war and but a single man.' 


Ah, gentlemen, matched 'gainst our fellow men 
We may seem great — How puny is our strength 
When set against the elements ! 

{^To Talleyrand?) 
Our Allies ? 

'Tis feared they waver. Sire. 


Ah ! " 'Tis feared" they waver ! 
Do we not know? Their friendship's but a masque 
And has been given us grudgingly. 
The crowned heads have made a common cause 
Against France and against her Emperor, 
Onh^ to wait an opportunity. 
Unmitigated hatred is their cause. 
The force of arms alone wall be their cure. 

Are we sufficient, Sire, against the world? 

^The words of Mole. 



And we are not, then must we surely fall ! 

For twelve long years we have but fought for peace 

And, ever winning wondrous victories, 

Have only asked an honorable peace. 

Witness our first campaign in Italy, 

Until at Campo Formio we forced 

Most lenient terms upon an ungracious foe. 

On our accession to the Consulate 

We found the peace of Campo Formio broken. 

How, then, we plead with England and with Austria— 

With those who had so basely dealt with us ! 

They spurned us and we promptly crossed the Alps 
And met them on Marengo's bloody plain. 
And on the field of that great victory 
We sued for peace and only asked 
The basis of the treaty they had broken. 

It was denied us and we promptly met 
At Hohenlinden, and our glorious arms 
Did triumph. We had conquered peace, 
The Peace of Amiens. 

Prosperity now made her home in France ; 
We grew to be the wonder of the world. 
Again perfidious England broke her faith, 
Her solemn covenant. Great France was roused, 
And by a unanimity of voice 
Unprecedented in all history, 
Proclaimed us Emperor. 

From our Imperial throne we plead for peace. 
Their answer was the basest mockery 
And a new coalition of the Powers. 
Followed quick the wonderful campaign 
Of Ulm and glorious Austerlitz, 
And w^e forced peace on Austria. 

Another coalition took the field , 
But our celerity and valorous arms 


Soon mastered it. 

To stop the flow of blood we plead for peace. 
They would not hear our prayer and we, 
Upon the fields of Jena and of Auerstadt, 
Destroyed the Prussian Monarchy, 
Then prayed for peace. Their answer was 
The infamous decree of England's King 
Barring all commerce from the ports of France. 

What, but retaliation, then was left ? 
From Berlin and from Milan we replied. 

Followed our great march to the Vistula 
And then the frightful victory at Kylau. 
Again we plead for peace, again repulsed 
We marched to Friedland and the allied arms 
Were utterly destroj^ed. And we had conquered peace- 
'Tw^as ratified at Tilsit. 

Prosperity once more smiled on the Empire, 
All other thrones were jealous of her smile. 

Humanity now called our arms to Spain 
And England sent her forces to oppose us. 
Her emissaries to the Austrian Court, 
And Austria armed. How we did plead for peace ! 
But no avail. Upon the gory field 
Of Eckmuhl again we vanquished them, 
Swept down the Danube with our glorious hosts, 
Nor halted till their capitol was ours ; 
Forced, then, the Danube and all earth amazed 
By our achievements on the field of Wagram. 
And again our arms had conquered peace — 
The seventh coalition was e'erthrown. 

Ah, gentlemen, had we been sterner there 
And parcelled out the Austrian Monarchy ! 
My magnanimity has been my curse. 

At Austerlitz I might have ta'en the Czar 
And made my own terms with the Russian court ; 
At Jena I had Prussia overthrown 


And gave her back possession of her reahn ; 
At Wagram, Austria, only to restore 
The life she had a fourth time forfeited. 

Posterity shall throne great Justice, Sire. 


And in the meantime, what is left but war ? 

You all do know we plead, aye, humbly plead, 

We, who had nobly conquered half the world ; 

Plead not as conquerors, but as suppliants, 

To avert this war with Russia. 

To supplication answered they with threats 

And most unseemly insults. What was their cause? 

Base envy nurtured by perfidious courts, 

Armed with the time-worn pretext that the Pole 

Would one day give them trouble ! Commanded us . 

To break our plighted faith, give our consent 

To that mild, harmless state's dismemberment ! 

But we are now without an army, Sire. 


Art thou an Austrian ? What ! Know'st thou not 
That every Frenchman is a soldier born ? 
A million soldiers wait but for my voice — 
One word of mine will re-create the army ! 

{Enter Marshal Ney, 
in tattered 2inifonn.~) 

Speak that one word and give me a command ! 



{Embracing Ney.) 
Glorious Ney ! Thou bravest of the brave ! 
Oh, what a man wast thou ! What art thou now ? 


The rear-guard, Sire, of the grand army ! 

Upon the bridge of Kowno I did fire 

Our last shot into the pursuing foe 

Then threw my musket after it — Ha ! Ha ! 

Give me a new command. Sire, and I'll fight 

While there's a drop of red blood in my veins! 


My secretaries ! 

I'll call a million men — Our Veterans 

Still number quite enough to marshal them. 

Now shall we do such deeds 'neath sun and stars 

Shall astound the Immortal Gods ! 


ACT VL— Scene Fourth. 
A Street in Paris. 

{^Entcr from cither side citizens.^ 

First Citizejn. 
^ TIVE I'Emperor ! 

Second Citizen. 
Vive I'Emperor ! 

First Citizen. 
Can it be the Grand Army is overthrown ? 

Second Citizen. 
By the Russe, no ! By the snows, yes. 

First Citizen. 
And the Emperor? 

Second Citizen. 
As a wounded lion, roused now to a terrible effort ! 

First Citizen. 
Let them beware who are in his reach ! 


Second Citizen. 

'Tis said the Austrian is plotting 'gainst us now. 

First Citizen. 

Now ? When did they not ? Let the whole world plot ! 
Vive TEmperor ! 

Second Citizen. 
Vive r Emperor ! 

ACT VI. — Scene Fifth. 
A Military Encampment. 

Discovered — 

Marshals Ney, Eugene Beauharnais, Besseires, Soult, Duroc, 
Ouidinot, Macdouald, Mortier, Pouiatowski and Davoust. 

{^Enter Napolcoji a7id Cmilamcourt.) 


Before we march to this impending war 
'Tis well you know what we shall have to meet, 
Whom look to for support and all things else 
Touching the weighty import of our cause — 
I have no secrets from my soldiers. 
The fair news first, good Caulaincourt, 
'Tis easiest disposed of. 


We have addresses, Sire, innumerable 

From our Parisian bodies and throughout 

The confines of the Empire. 

Besides, an hundred cities, Milan, Rome, 

Florence, Turin, Hamburg, Amsterdam, Mayence. 


Read first from Milan. 



(^Reading ?) 

" Our Kingdom, Sire, is your handiwork. It owes 
you its laws, its monuments, its roads, its property, its 
agriculture, the glory of its Arts and the internal peace 
which it enjoys. The people of Italy declare, in the 
face of the universe, that there is no sacrifice which 
they are not prepared to make to enable your Majesty 
to complete the great work intrusted to you by Provi- 

In extraordinary circumstances, extraordinary sacri- 
fices are required, and our efforts shall be boundless- 
All we possess, Sire, we lay at your Majesty's feet. 
This is not the suggestion of authority ; it is convic- 
tion, gratitude, the universal cry produced by the pas- 
sion for our political existence. ' ' 

This, Sire, is a fair specimen of all the rest. 


Enough ! You see that we have some friends left. 
Now of our enemies ! 

England — 


The Pirate Queen of the northern seas ! — Well? 

Has succeeded in forming another and stronger coalition. 

Well ? 



To her ovvu strength and that of Russia, Austria, re- 
nouncing her sacred treat}- with France, has been added. 


Rather let us have declared enemies than doubtful allies. 


Murat has abandoned the army and it is supposed will 
offer his services to the Coalition. 

The Generals. 
Murat ! 


A brave man on the battle field, but otherwise weak. 


Murat is King not by the grace of God, but by the grace 
of your Majesty and the blood of French soldiers. He is in- 
flated wath base ingratitude. 


Poor Caroline ! Well— Well? 


Our troops on the Spanish peninsula struggle against 
great odds — England, Portugal and Spain have combined 
a powerful army there. 


'Tis war to the death, my comrades, as 3'ou see. 
A million Frenchmen answer to our call — 
Three hundred thousand march with us tomorrow. 
We will strike again for France ! 

Vive, Vive 1' Emperor ! Vive La France ! 


Upon our borders there alread}^ swarm 
The Allied arms. Is there a soldier now 
Who would turn back, let him step forth ! 
Not one ! Oh, Comrades, this is glorious ! 
This moves me more than victory. 


Bid us move forward, Sire, I cannot bear 
To wait another hour ! 

Forward the Old Guard ! Forward ! 


MarshaIv Ney takks Command. 



Surrounded By his Marshai^s. 

The Old Guard Passes in Review, 

Marshal Ney in Command. 

ACT VII.— Scene First 


{E7iier two English officers 
in foreground,) 

First Officer. 

WELL met, Comrade ! How have you amused your- 

Second Officer. 

As usual. At dawn, witnessed the sunrise ; at eight, 
breakfasted ; from nine to twelve, our watch ; lunched at 
noon. Since which time I have been strolling over the 
island and am now going to dinner. 

First Officer. 
I think this lazy life will end shortly. 

Second Officer. 
I trust so. 

First Officer. 
If Bonaparte does not interfere by refusing to die. 

Second Officer. 
He fails fast. 


First Officer. 
A shadow of glory. 

Second Officer. 
History will name him the greatest man of his age. 

First Officer. 
History will do him justice. 

Second Officer. 

And England, too, and when it comes to speak of St. 
Helena, 'twill blot the English page. 

First Officer. 
You speak boldly. 

Second Officer. 

As an Englishman should always speak who, proud of 
his country, scorns every act that reflects upon her honor. 

First Officer. 
The Emperor — I mean Bonaparte, escaped from Elba. 

Second Officer. 

He was bound neither by law nor precedent to remain, 
and his reception by his countrymen forever silences the 
senseless cry of " Usurper." 

First Officer. 
That was magnificent. 


Second Officer. 

Magnificent? It was glorious ! Never, in all history, has 
anything approached it. A single man invades a nation, 
containing thirty million people, his friends gather about 
him, he marches seven hundred miles through the heart 
of the country to its powerful capitol, vanquishing, by his 
supreme presence, without the shedding of a drop of blood, 
the formidable armies sent to destroy him, and, in twenty 
days, is proclaimed Emperor amidst the greatest rejoicing 
and enthusiasm ever witnessed beneath the sun. 

Ah, comrade, Bonaparte has ever been the Emperor of 
French hearts ! 

First Officer. 

M}^ point was that, as he had escaped from Elba, we were 
justified in guarding him closely here. 

Second Officer. 

But Elba is not St. Helena. All the world knows that 
from this place escape is impossible, and the order that sub- 
jects the royal prisoner to the constant watching of Eng- 
lish officers is inhuman. 

First Officer. 
It is humiliating. 

Second Officer. 

To his proud spirit there could be nothing harder to bear, 
and this the authorities know. 

First Officer. 

Now, if the truth were known, I think Sir Hudson, not 
our England, is at fault in this. 


Second Officer. 

Vet is Sir Hudson England, England Sir Hudson — So it. 
will be writ. 

{Exeunt. ) 
{Enter Napoleon, attended by Mar- 
shal Bertrand and Marshand.) 


And do you think the}^ will attempt to enforce 
These new indignities ? 

Yes, Sire, surel}^ ! 

What said this man, Sir Hudson, touching it? 


That 'twas contended by the British Lords, 
Of whom Lord Barthurst had addressed him, 
That you were but a prisoner and as such 
Should be treated — not with courtly honors. 
Your titles being surrendered with your power 
You were now but Napoleon Bonaparte 
And should be so addressed. 


Well— Well— What more ? 

Sire, I blush to speak the rest. 

Go on — go on — 



He then complained, my Liege, tliat you of late 
Had kept your rooms so close his officers 
Had been compelled to peep in through your windows 
Or go without their due report of you. 


Well— Well— 


I did not tell him of your illness, Sire — 

Continuing he claimed : 

That, now his government demanded, 

He should communicate direct with you 

Or through his own appointed methods ; 

Ordered your doors should be kept open. 

The blinds up from your windows, that he might 

Have full assurance of 3'our presence. 

Well— W^ ell — You see I listen patiently— 


That as before when you should walk or ride 
His guards attend you. 

How soon shall they enforce 

These orders 


To-day, at fouro' the clock. 
Sir Hudson and his guards will wait on you- 
'Tis close upon the hour. 



Summon our gentlemen 
At once Bertrand — We will defend our honor 
Or make a tragic end of it. 

{Exit Dcrtrand.) 
My sword, Marshand ! 

(^Ma rsha nd pre sen ts s7vord. ) 
I will wear it — 
{Marsha }id buckles the sivord upon him.) 
There seems a magic in its presence. 
It is the insignia of authorit}^ 

{Marshand presents pistols.) 
Ha ? These are potent still ! I can use these ! 
I was a good shot, Marshand, as 3'ou know — 
I remember well my exploits at Brienne ; 
My comrades thought them wonderful. 
I have killed birds flying in the air, 
At thirt}^ paces, with a weapon 
Quite as small as this — Short range shall atone 
Indifferent practice. Now on this meager rock 
Shall we set up the last throne of Napoleon. 
Drape our Imperial robe ! 

{IMarshand drapes the robe, 
Napoleon regarding.) 
'Tis a prouder heritage than England's ! 

{Re-enter Bertrand, attended, by 
Gen. Montholon, Gen. Gourgand, 
M. De Las Casas and Dr. 
O ' Me a ra . All are a nn ed. Ber- 
trand eonducts Napoleon to the im- 
provised throne. His atteiidants 
salute him.) 
Comrades : Short time have w^e for converse — 
We are offered base humiliation, 
Or a grave with heroes — I have chosen for you. 

{77iey again salute him.) 
{Enter Sir Hudson Lowe, 
officers and soldiers.) 

General Bonaparte — 

Sir Hudson. 


{^Interrupting him.') 

Sir Hudson Lowe : 
Communications for the Emperor 
Should be addressed alone to Bertrand, 
Grand Marshal of France. 

Sir Hudson. 

What means this masquerade of royalty ? 
Throw down your arms ! Disperse ! 


The Grand Marshal of France will thus reply 

To St. Helena's Governor : 

The Emperor holds not his titles 

By the grace of England, but the accord 

Of the enlightened world. And say besides 

That by the law of nations, civilized, 

By custom even of barbaric tribes, 

Who have the instinct of chivalric honor. 

The terms of our embarkment on her ships 

Made us the guest and not the prisoner 

Of England. The royal hospitality 

That set apart for us this island rock 

And clothed us with the dignity of " Subject,' 

The high distinction of a British subject, 

Vests us in rights, under the British rule, 

Whereby our cottage is become our castle — 

We shall defend it, to the extremity 

Of honorable graves ! 


Sir Hudson. 

Are you so lost to reason as to lift 
Your puny strength against the power of England ? 
You should not thus endanger the few days 
Now left you — your grave is not far off. 


Through the long years of our captivity 

Thou hast spared no effort thy low cunning 

Could devise to annoy, to torture us ! 

I am ill — nigh unto death, mahap — 

You come to taunt me, dying — Ah, my grave 

Is not far off! — " Is not far off," saidst thou? 

If so, beware the Nemesis ! — 

For I tell thee now, thou wart, grown putrid 

On the hand of that Royal Infamy 

That holds us prisoner here, even thou 

Canst not escape ! What though thou hast no soul ? 

Great Justice from my ashes shall invoke 

A spirit will not leave out even thee 

In its swift vengeance ! 'Twill follow thee 

And plague thee with such punishments as reach 

The ph3^sical ! Thou shalt crawd on through time, 

Loathed as a leper, foetid in disease — 

Shunned as a pestilence, despised as filth, 

A rotting reek, that spreads contagion ; 

Hated, as the assassin who in smiles 

And tears and protestations of good faith 

Administers slow poison ! Thou art he — 

The fittest wretch of all thy tribe — 

Selected to command this prison rock ! 

Deceit, Intrigue and fawning Treachery 

Have produced thee. Acme of Infamy ! 

Hell yawns for thee, not knowing yet 

Thou art too base even for her vilest pool — 

Begone ! Ere that refuge is barred 'gainst thee ! 


(^Napoleon falls in Bertra?id' s arms 
as Sir Hudson and suit go off 


Ha ! Ha ' Ha ! See how he sneaks away ! 
'Tis thus base reptiles steal out from the suu ' 

ACT VII.— Scene Second. 

Plantation House in Distance. 

(Woodland ) 

{^Enter Sir Hudson Loive and officers.) 

Sir Hudson. 
^ "TOU have given the order ? 

First Officer. 
I have. 

Sir Hudson. 
Look, then, to its speed}- execution ! 

First Officer. 
I will. 

Sir Hudson. 

We'll transport all his hangers on, and see. 

If then, he will remain so haughty. Come ! 

{Enter Napoleon, supported by 
Marshand, attended by Ge7i. and 
Mme. Bertrand, Gen, and Mm e. 
MontJwlon, Gen. Gourgand, M. 
De Las Casas and Dr. O' Meara. 
English officers folloTV in the dis- 
tance unobserved by Napoleon.) 



When next from Homer you shall read to me, 

Good Marshand, read of the funeral rites 

Of noble Hector — 

Bertrand , I shall meet Homer and converse with him ? 

Yes, Sire. 



My Generals and friends 
Shall join me ; Kleeber, Desaix, lyannes, 
Massena, Besseires, Duroc, Ne}^ 
And ye, the noble sharers of my exile ! 
Once more shall we experience the joy. 
The intoxication of human glory ! 
We shall speak of what we have done and — and — 
What we failed to do. 


Think not upon that now, Sire ! 
Had we have been content — 


Impossible ! 
A great soul may not be content ! 
There is no level for achieved pre-eminence 
That may be endured by the truly great ! 

I shall see Alexander 
And Caesar, and Hannibal and Frederick, 
And Turenne and Conde ! We will converse 
Of our profession — Unless in the upper spheres. 
As here below, they shall object to seeing 
A number of soldiers together. 

{^He discovers the English officers, 
ivho have come forzvard and are 


lisU'uijio-, and in jus upon tlicm^ 

Fall back, you wretched slaves ! Fall back, I say, 
Or I will bid my valet whip you hence, 
Impudent knaves ! 

(^Thcy fall back.) 


Patience ! Patience, my liege ! 
We are quite powerless now. 


There is a halo 'round the truly great 
As frightful to the eyes of craven souls 
As all the thunderbolts of Jupiter ! 

(^Recovering .) 
Is this Napoleon ? You see it was 
My mind and not my body was of iron. 
The sun is setting— 

(ySinks in chair.) 

So hung the clouds, blood red, above that sun 
When I to France did give my Josephine — 
So hung they in the glare of burning Moscow — 
So hung they o'er the field of Waterloo — 

My fate's sad Trilogy ! 

{Recover i?ig.) 

The somber shadows sleep — 

No wave of sound — My brain reels ! Is this death ? 

Ah ! Wondrous, incomparable pageantry ! 
What grand procession this of stately forms ? 
The marshaled Glory of the Universe ! 

All-wise, All-mighty, All-foreseeing Jove ; 
Thou who in thunder-tones command'st the host 
August, of the Immortals, hail ! All hail ! 


What boldest thou in keeping for the great ? 

Silence ! 
Thou of the Silver-bow, Far-seeing 
Phoebus Apollo ; shall we be gods ? 

Pallas Athene ; answer me and tell 
What life awaits bej^ond the tomb ? 

Oh, Fate, my mother; Thou dost sit supreme 
O'er all— Speak ! Oh, speak ! 

All, all is silence ! 'Tis gone ! — 
What marvellous Perfection passeth now ? 
A crown of thorns — In His hands and feet and side 
Are wounds — See ! See who follows, worshipping ! 
Josephine ! 

{^Recovering and lising.) 
Charge, Ney, and yet the battle may be won ! 
Forward the Old Guard ! Cry, France and victory ) 
They fall — they fall — they die ! They cannot yield ! 
Forward the Old Guard ! Forward ! Forward ! 

Covers his face with his mantle and falls 











JN the appendix, herewith subjoined, will be found what, to my 
mind, is at once the most masterful, absolute argument in de- 
fence of the Divinity of Christ that has ever dropped from the 
lips of a man — the memorable words of Napoleon at St. Helena. 

It was this immortal utterance that led me to an investigation of 
the life and character of the man, against whom the world has, for 
so long, spoken bitterly. I could not believe that the author of such 
sentiments could be the Napoleon of popular history. 

It is in the hope that its reading may lead others to a search for 
the/ads, and a consequent award of justice to the memory of Napo- 
leon, that the appendix is offered. 






In a conversation with General Bertrand at St. Helena, 
Napoleon said : 

" I know men, and I tell you that Jesus Christ is not a 
man. Superficial minds see a resemblance between Christ 
and the founders of empires, and the gods of other religions. 
That resemblance does not exist. There is between Chris- 
tianity and whatever other religion the distance of infinity. 

" We can say to the authors of every other religion, you 
are neither gods nor the agents of Deity. You are but mis- 
sionaries of falsehood moulded from the same clay with the 
rest of mortals. You are made with all the passions and 
vices inseparable from them. Your temples and your 
priests proclaim your origin. Such will be the judgment, 
the cry of conscience of whoever examines the gods and the 
temples of paganism. 

* * Paganism was never accepted as truth by the wise men 
of Greece, neither by Socrates, Pythagoras, Plato, Anaxa- 
goras, or Pericles. But, on the other side, the loftiest in- 
tellects since the advent of Christianity have had faith, a 
living faith, a practical faith in the mysteries and the doc- 
trines of the Gospel ; not only Bossuet and Fenelon, who 
were preachers, but Descartes and Newton, Leibnitz and 
Pascal, Corneille and Racine, Charlemagne and Louis XIV. 


"Paganism is the work of man. One can here read but 
our imbecility. What do these gods, so boastful, know 
more than other mortals ? These legislators, Greek or Ro- 
man? This Numa? This lyycurgus ? These priests of India or 
of Memphis? This Confucius ? This Mohammed ? Absolute- 
ly nothing ! There is not one among them all who has said 
an3'thing new in reference to our future destiny, to the soul, 
to the essence of God, to the creation. Enter the sanctua- 
ries of Paganism — you there find perfect chaos, a thousand 
contradictions, war between the gods, the immobility of 
sculpture, the division and rending of unity, the parceling 
out of the divine attributes, mutilated or denied in their es- 
sence, the sophisms of ignorance and presumption, polluted 
fetes, impurity and abomination adored, all sorts of corrup- 
tion festering in the thick shades, wdth the rotten wood, the 
idol, and his priests. Does this honor God, or does it dis- 
honor him ? Are these religions and these gods to be com- 
pared with Christianity ? 

** As for me, I say no. I summon entire Olympus to my 
tribunal ! I judge the gods, but am far from prostrating 
myself before their vain images. The gods, the legislators 
of India and of China, of Rome and of Athens, have noth- 
ing which can overaw^e me. Not that I am unjust to them ; 
no, I appreciate them, because I know their value. Unde- 
niably, princes whose existence is fixed in the memory as 
an image of order and of power, as the ideal of force and 
beauty, such princes w^ere no ordinary men. 

' ' I see in Lycurgus, Numa and Mohammed only legisla- 
tors who, having the first rank in the state, have sought the 
best solution of the social problem ; but I see nothing there 
which reveals divinity. They themselves have never raised 
their pretensions so high. As for me, I recognize the gods 
and these great men as beings like myself. They have per- 
formed a lofty part in their times, as I have done. Nothing 
announces them divine. On the contrary, there are numer- 
ous resemblances between them and myself, foibles and er- 
rors which ally them to me and to humanity. 


" It is not so with Christ. Everything in Him astonishes 
me. Between Him and whoever else in the world, there is 
no possible term of comparison. He is truly a being of 
Himself. His ideas and His sentiments, the truths which 
He announces, His manner of convincing, are not explained 
either by human organization or by the nature of things. 

' ' His birth, and the history of His life ; the profundity 
of His doctrine, which grapples the mightiest difficulties, 
and which is, of those difficulties, the most admirable solu- 
tion ; His Gospel, His apparition. His empire. His march 
across the ages and the realms, everything, is for me a prod- 
igy, a mystery insoluble, which plunges me into a reverie 
from which I can not escape, a mystery which is there be- 
fore my eyes, a mystery which I can neither deny nor ex- 
plain. Here I see nothing human. 

"The nearer I approach, the more carefully I examine, 
everything is above me, everything remains grand — of a 
grandeur which overpowers. His religion is a revelation 
from an intelligence which certainly is not that of man. 
There is there a profound originality, which has created a 
series of w^ords and maxims before unknown. Jesus bor- 
rowed nothing from our sciences. One can absolutely find 
nowhere, but in Him alone, the imitation or the example 
of His life. He is not a philosopher, since he advances by 
miracles, and, from the commencement. His disciples wor- 
shipped Him. He persuades them far more by an appeal to 
the heart than by any display of method and of logic. 
Neither did He impose upon them any preliminary studies 
or any knowledge of letters. All His religion consists in 

" In fact, the sciences and philosophy avail nothing for 
salvation ; and Jesus came into the world to reveal the mys- 
teries of heaven and the laws of the Spirit. Also, He has 
nothing to do but with the soul, and to that alone He brings 
His Gospel. The soul is sufficient for Him, as He is suffi- 
cient for the soul. Before Him the soul w^as nothing. 


Matter and time were the masters of the world. At His 
voice everything returns to order. Science and philosophy 
become secondary. The soul has conquered its sovereign- 
ty. All the scholastic scaffolding falls, as an edifice ruined, 
before one single word— faith. 

** What a master and what a word, which can effect such 
a revolution ? With what authority does He teach men to 
pray? He imposes His belief, and no one, thus far, has 
been able to contradict Him ; first, because the Gospel con- 
tains the purest morality, and, also, because the doctrine 
which it contains, of obscurity, is only the proclamation and 
the truth of that which exists where no eye can see and no 
reason can penetrate. Who is the insensate who will say 
no to the intrepid voyager who recounts the marvels of the 
icy peaks which he alone has had the boldness to visit ? 
Christ is that bold voyager. One can doubtless remain in- 
credulous, but no one can venture to say it is not so. 

"Moreover, consult the philosophers upon those myste- 
rious questions which relate to the essence of man and to the 
essence of religion. What is their response ? Where is the 
man of good sense who has ever learned anj^thing from the 
system of metaphysics, ancient or modern, which is not 
truly a vain and pompous ideology, without any connection 
with our domestic life, with our passions ? Unquestionably, 
with skill of thinking, one can seize the key of the philoso- 
phy of Socrates and Plato ; but, to do this, it is necessary 
to be a metaphj^sician ; and, moreover, with years of study, 
one must possess special aptitude. But good sense alone, 
the heart, an honest spirit, are sufficient to comprehend 

"The Christian religion is neither ideology nor meta- 
physics, but a practical rule which directs the actions of 
man, corrects him, counsels him, and assists him in all his 
conduct. The Bible contains a complete series of facts and 
of historical men, to explain time and eternity, such as no 
other religion has to offer. If this is not the true religion, 


one is very excusable in being deceived, for every thing in 
it is grand and worthy of God. I search in vain in history 
to find the similar to Jesus Christ, or anything which can 
approach the Gospel, Neither history, nor humanity, nor 
the ages, nor nature, can offer me anything with which I 
am able to compare it or explain it. Here everything is ex- 
traordinar}'. The more I consider the Gospel, the more I 
am assured that there is nothing there which is not beyond 
the march of events and above the human mind. Even 
the impious, themselves, have never dared to deny the sub- 
limity of the Gospel, which inspires them with a sort of 
compulsory veneration. What happiness that Book pro- 
cures for them who believe it ! What marvels those admire 
there who reflect upon it. Book unique, where the mind 
finds a moral beauty before unknown, and an idea of the 
Supreme superior even to that which creation suggests ! 
Who but God could produce that type, that ideal of perfec- 
tion, equally exclusive and original? 

"Christ, having but a few weak disciples, was condemned 
to death. He died the object of the wrath of the Jewish 
priests, and of the contempt of the nation, and abandoned 
and denied by His own disciples. 

" ' They are about to take me, and to crucify me,' said 
He. ' I shall be abandoned of all the world. My chief disci- 
ple will deu}^ me at the commencement of my punishment. 
I shall be left to the wicked. But then, divine justice being 
satisfied, original sin being expiated by my sufferings, the 
bond of man to God will be renewed, and my death will be 
the life of my disciples. Then they will be more strong 
without me than with me, for they will see me rise again. 
I shall ascend to the skies, and I shall send them from 
heaven a spirit who will instruct them. The spirit of the 
cross will enable them to understand my Gospel. In fine, 
the}' will believe it, they will preach it and the}' will con- 
vert the world.' 

"And this strange promise, so aptly called by Paul the 


* foolishness of the cross ; ' this prediction of the miserably 
crucified, is literally accomplished, and the mode of the 
accomplishment is, perhaps, more prodigious than the 

*' It is not a day nor a battle which has decided it. Is it 
the lifetime of a man ? No ! It is a war, a long combat of 
three hundred years, commenced by the apostles, and con- 
tinued by their successors and by succeeding generations of 
Christians. In this conflict all the kings and all the forces 
of the earth were arrayed on one side. Upon the other I 
see no army, but a mj^sterious energy, individuals scattered 
here and there in all parts of the globe, having no other ral- 
lying sign than a common faith in the mysteries of the 

" What a mysterious symbol ! The instrument of the pun- 
ishment of the man-God. His disciples were armed with 
it. ' The Christ, ' they said, ' God has died for the salvation 
of men.' What a strife, what a tempest these simple words 
have raised around the humble standard of the sufferings of 
the man- God ! On the other side, we see rage and all the 
furies of hatred and violence ; on the other, there is 
gentleness, moral courage, infinite resignation. For three 
hundred years spirit struggled against brutality of sense, 
the conscience against the despotism, the soul against the 
bod}^ virtue against all the vices. The blood of Christians 
flowed in torrents. They died kissing the hand which slew 
them. The soul alone protested, while the bod}^ surrend- 
ered itself to all tortures. Everywhere Christians fell, and 
everywhere they triumphed. 

"You speak of Caesar, of Alexander; of their conquests, 
and of the enthusiasm they enkindled in the hearts of their 
soldiers ; but can you conceive of a dead man making con- 
quests with an army faithful and entirely devoted to his 
memory? My armies have forgotten me, even while living, 
as the Carthaginian arm^^ forgot Hannibal. Such is our 
power! A single battle lost crushes us, and adversity scat- 
ters our friends. 


** Can you conceive of Caesar, the eternal emperor of the 
Roman senate, and from the depths of his mausoleum gov- 
erning the empire, watching over the destinies of Rome ? 
Such is the history of the invasion and conquest of the 
world by Christianity. Such is the power of the God of the 
Christians ; and such is the perpetual miracle of the prog- 
ress of the faith and of the government of His Church. Na- 
tions pass away, thrones crumble, but the Church remains. 
What is, then, the power that has protected this Church, 
thus assailed by the furious billows of rage and the hostility 
of ages? Where is the arm which, for eighteen hundred 
years, has protected the Church from so many storms which 
have threatened to engulf it ? 

" In every other existence, but that of Christ, how many 
imperfections ! Where is the character which has not yielded 
vanquished by obstacles ? Where is the individual who 
has never been governed by circumstances or places, who 
has never succumbed to the influence of the times, who has 
never compuned with any customs or passions? From the 
first day to the last. He is the same, always the same, ma- 
jestic and simple, infinitely firm and infinitely gentle. 

"Truth vShould embrace the universe. Such is Christian- 
ity, the only religion which destroys sectional prejudice, 
the only one which proclaims the unity and the absolute 
brotherhood of the whole human family, the only one which 
is purely spiritual — in fine, the only one which assigns to 
all, without distinction, for a true country the bosom of the 
Creator, God. Christ proved that He was the son of the 
Eternal by His disregard of time. All His doctrines signify 
one only and the same thing — Eternity, 

" It is true that Christ proposed to our faith a series of 
mysteries. He commands, with authority, that we should 
believe them, giving no other reason than those tremendous 
words, 'I<2wGod. ' He declares it. What an abyss He 
creates by that declaration between Himself and all the fab- 
ricators of religion ! What audacity, what sacrilege, what 


blasphemy, if it were not true ! I say more ; the universal 
triumph of an affirmation of that kind, if the triumph were 
not really that of God himself, would be a plausible excuse 
and a reason for atheism. 

" Moreover, in propounding mysteries, Christ is harmo- 
nious with Nature, which is profoundly mysterious. From 
whence do I come ? Whither do I go ? Who am I ? Hu- 
man life is a mystery in its origin, its organization, audits 
end. In man and out of man, in nature, everything is mys- 
terious. And can one wish that religion should not be mys- 
terious ? The creation and the destiny of the world are an 
unfathomable abyss, as also is the creation and the destiny 
of each individual. Christianity, at least, does not evade 
these great questions. It meets them boldly. And our 
doctrines are a solution of them for every one who believes. 

The Gospel possesses a secret virtue, a mysterious efficacy, 
a warmth which penetrates and soothes the heart. One 
finds in meditating upon it that which one experiences in 
contemplating the heavens. The Gospel is not a book ; it 
is a living being, with an action, a power which invades 
everything that opposes its extension. Behold it upon this 
table, this Book surpassing all others" (here the Emperor 
solemnly placed his hand upon it) ; "I never omit to read 
it, and every day with the same pleasure. 

" Nowhere is to be found such a series of beautiful ideas, 
admirable moral maxims, which defile, like the battalions 
of a celestial army, and which produce in our soul the same 
emotion which one experiences in contemplating the infinite 
expanse of the skies, resplendent on a summer's night with 
all the brilliance of the stars. Not only is our mind ab- 
sorbed, it is controlled, and the soul can never go astray 
with this Book for its guide. Once master of our spirit, the 
faithful Gospel loves us. God, even, isour friend, our fa- 
ther, and truly our God. The mother has no greater care 
for the infant whom she nurses. 

* ' What a proof of the divinity of Christ ! With an empire 


so absolute, He has but one single end, the spiritual melior- 
ation of individuals, the purity of conscience, the union to 
that which is true, the holiness of the soul. 

"Christ speaks, and at once generations become His by- 
stricter, closer ties than those of blood — by the most sacred, 
the most indissoluble of all unions. He lights up the flame 
of a love which consumes self-love, which prevails over ev- 
ery other love. The founders of other religions never con- 
ceived of this mystical love, which is the essence of Chris- 
tianity, and is beautifully called charity. In every attempt 
to effect this thing, namely, to make himself beloved, man 
deeply feels his own impotence. So that Christ's greatest 
miracle undoubtedly is the reign of charity. 

" I have so inspired multitudes that they would die for 
me. God forbid that I should form any comparison be- 
tween the enthusiasm of the soldier and Christian charity, 
which are as unlike as their cause. But, after all, my pres- 
ence was unnecessary ; the lightning of my eye, my voice, 
a word from me, then the sacred fire was kindled in their 
hearts. I do, indeed, possess the secret of this magical pow- 
er, which lifts the soul, but I could never impart it to any 
one. None of my generals ever learned it from me ; nor 
have I the means of perpetuating my name, and love for me, 
in the hearts of men, and to effect these things without phys- 
ical means. 

" Now that I am at St. Helena, now that I am alone, 
chained upon this rock, who fights and wins empires for 
me ? Who are the courtiers of my misfortune ? Who thinks 
of me ? Who makes efforts for me in Europe ? Where are my 
friends? Yes, two or three, whom your fidelity immortal- 
izes, 3"ou share, you console my exile." 

(Here the voice of the Emperor trembled with emotion, 
and for a moment he was silent. He then continued : 

' * Yes, our life once shone with all the brilliance of the 
diadem and the throne ; and yours, Bertrand, reflected that 
splendor, as the dome of the Invalides, gilt by us, reflects 


the rays of the sun. But disasters came ; the gold gradual- 
ly became dim. The ruin of misfortune and outrage with 
which I am daily deluged has effaced all the brightness. We 
are mere lead now, General Bertrand, and soon I shall be in 
my grave. 

' ' Such is the fate of great men ! So it was with Csesar 
and Alexander. And I, too, am forgotten. And the name 
of a conqueror and an emperor is a college theme ! Our ex- 
ploits are tasks given to pupils by their tutor, who sit in 
judgment upon us, awarding censure or praise. And mark 
what is soon to become of me ! Assassinated by the English 
oligarchy, I die before my time ; and my dead body, too, 
must return to the earth, to become food for the worms. 
Behold the destiny near at hand, of him who has been called 
the great Napoleon ! What an abyss between my deep mis- 
ery and the eternal reign of Christ, which is proclaimed, 
loved, adored, and which is extending all over the earth ! 
Is this to die? Is it not rather to live? The death of 
Christ ! It is the death of God. 

"General Bertrand, if you do not perceive that Jesus 
Christ is God, very well, then I did wrong to make you a