Enter Murat & Miroladovitch. Murat is dress’d as a Spanish general, sporting a sable hat & silk brocades. Miroladovitch is wearing three shawls of different cloth.
Miroladovitch I am happy you attended in peace My petit pourparler, as Frenchmen say
Murat We say so many things but never quite As well as what leaps brightly from your tongue
Miroladovitch One tries, for after all, the French possess The first of all cultures, bursting finesse Far from the wolfish wildness of my world
Murat So good of you to say so – the silence Of this strange, tacit armistice of sorts, This miracle beyond intrinsic woes, Endows a certain sense of the tourist, On which state I thy country might be wild But thy women’s beauties are quite refined.
Miroladovitch High praise indeed from a Latinist king With all of Naples bevvy to admire But what are fair women without fine wine, This bottle imported from Aquitaine Would you share?
Murat Why certainly, I admire Your taste for French vines
Miroladovitch Of course, the world’s best
Miroladovitch pours out the wine, which is used in a toast
Miroladovitch To both our Emperors
Murat The Emperors
Joachim Murat: King of Naples
Miroladovitch May they return to fraternity soon An amity which made great nations friends Injurious wasps we swarm no more At Taurantino eighty-five thousand Are waiting, daily, Petersburg’s reply To messengers urging their Tsar to peace Leave days of blood & battle in the past
Murat Napoleon wants peace, for him enough To come to Moscow, not to burn it down, The governor uncaged its criminals, Vile worms who wert oerlook’d even in birth & gave them flames & powder, what a waste of wond’rous worksmanship centuries old
Miroladovitch The hour of conciliation transpires There are many Muscovites in the army Who boot-by-boot are stepping from the mist Wishing to see the campaign’s termini Them eager more for peace than Bounaparte Believe me, King Murat, if you attack’d The Cossacks will not answer & may join With France in common cause
Murat How say ye so?
Miroladovitch The surly peasant scrapes with discontent No better now than when the Golden Horde Enslaved them, they crave emancipation
Murat I credit you for honesty, my friend If I may call you so
Miroladovitch Of course, we are
Murat Then, please accept this watch, with my jewels Yet, as gifts are seldom altruistic, Please visit me in Paris in return Next summer, in the peacetime which we hope
Miroladovitch Your overkindness wrings adoring tears With all my heart accepted – I worship Your opera, the Comedie Francaise I long to see, there hear cantatas sung
Murat A good song to dreary woe’s elixir
Miroladovitch I know a very good song, will you hear
Murat Why yes, what is its name?
Miroladovitch It is The Sable Raven, an old tune
THE SABLE RAVEN To the tune of Chornyy Voran
O Sable raven, black guest of our homestead So unexpected are your wings, Why bring this white hand to my bedside Raven, what message from the kings
I recognized the white hand oer my bedside Dropp’d by the raven in my own It was the white hand of my precious brother Raven, tell me why you here are flown
He said, ‘your brother, slain in the battle, Naked, unburied on the strand; He is now lying with a thousand horsemen Dead in that far-off foreign land
***
Murat A splendid song sung splendidly, there is Parnassus in the pitch, Orpehus Might have penn’d it, perhaps you’ll send the score
Miroladovitch On one condition – you’ll sing me a song
Murat A song?
Miroladovitch Why yes!
Murat A song… ah yes… but first
Murat takes a drink of wine to clear his throat
MARLBROUGH IS GOING TO WAR
Marlbrough’s going to war Marlbrough’s going to war Marlbrough’s going to war Don’t know when he’ll come back Don’t know when he’ll come back
Marlbrough s’en va-t-en guerre Mironton mironton mirontaine, Marlbrough s’en va-t-en guerre Ne sait quand reviendra Ne sait quand reviendra.
Marlbrough’s going to war Marlbrough’s going to war Marlbrough’s going to war… Don’t know when he’s coming back
***
Miroladovitch That wins the brilliancy prize my friend To think but yesterday we might have met As soldiers in the field, with sabres drawn, Slashing life from lives, bereft of hearing Sweetnesses sweeping thro’ each others’ souls
Murat Thank fate such awful bloodshed ne’er befell & hope to God & Emporers ne’er will
Miroladovitch I concur, now come, a village nearby Stands home to some particular ravens Like nosegays to smell & sweetmeats to taste & all their talk is some handsome monarch Of how they are dreaming silky pleasures He never could have tasted in Paris
Murat If they would desire a meeting so much One must respect all customs when abroad
Miroladovitch Good man – Captain Akhlestyshev, bring up King Murat’s horse & mine… your majesty, Please, step this way
Murat Tho’ very far from home I feel at home with unremitting joy
Napoleon is in the Tsar’s apartments, being entertained by the Italian tenor, Tarquinio, & Martini, a pianist / with him are Berthier, Prince Eugene, General Gourgaud & Caulaincourt
***
PLAISIR D’AMOUR
Tarquinio Plaisir d’amour ne dure qu’un moment, Chagrin d’amour dure toute la vie. J’ai tout quitte pour l’ingrate Sylvie, Elle me quitte et prend un autre amant. Plaisir d’amour ne dure qu’un moment, Chagrin d’amour dure toute la vie. Tant que cette eau coulera doucement Vers ce ruisseau qui borde la prairie, Je t’aimerai”, te repetait Sylvie, L’eau coule encor, elle a change pourtant. Plaisir d’amour ne dure qu’un moment, Chagrin d’amour dure toute la vie.
***
Napoleon A wonderful piece, eternal even Your dear father, Martini, would be proud To hear it played so magical abroad, & Tarquinio how well you sing it, Choiring as if a young-eye’d cherubim
Did court the gods on lofty Olympus I wish my officers to share the same Promotion to a mental dignity Could you prepare a concert for Sunday
Martini Certainly sire
Napoleon Today I shall decree Opening Moscow’s standing theatres & see her noble boards restor’d to life To have them play French comedies – perhaps Italian – the troops are fond of those, All actors & musicians shall be paid Six months advance for each, do you accept
Martini To furnish your best victory with art Would be the perfect honour of my life
Napoleon Good, if you will inform your close colleagues Of this conversation’s fidelity You are dismissed
Exit Tarquinio & Martini
Louis-Alexandre Berthier, Prince of Neuchetal
Berthier Such timescale terrifies me, six months, sire! When Moscow burn’d your dreams, too, turn’d to flames I hear full well the warnings of Winter The planet Saturn broods, by gloomy gaze, Forebodings of terrible disaster Shake me to my boots with unborn sorrows
Napoleon My nervous prince, what would you have me do Now you’ve turn’d very wise?
Berthier Return at once To Paris & proclaim a victory With ashes of Muscovite palaces In your pockets
Napoleon Release your ill censure What frightful series of dangerous wars Would follow from the first stepp’d retrograde, Death is nothing, but to live defeated & inglorious is to daily die That self-same sun which led us to glory Brightening our victories each morning, Shall set not now on the path of darkness, No, we shall face the rising sun, Moscow, From a pure military point of view Holds no real value, but it’s name’s prestige Remains untarnish’d, thus, if politics Were a game of chess, the black queen is trapp’d, Her trembling king helpless behind his pawns
Caulaincour Sire, this city is in a dreadful state The Russians left us nothing but ruin
Napoleon Well, at least we are quiet among them Eh, Caulaincourt?
Caulaincourt That is true, I suppose
Napoleon We have reduced Mother Russia to rags Her warcry tongue tuned stringless instrument Back half a century her commerce set By violent shocks convulsing thro’ his throne The Tsar, I am certain, shall sue for peace
Eugene I agree with positivities, sire, The occupation of his capital Is hampering aristocratic rents Their revenues drifting with the peasants Out eating up the provinces, until The whole of Russia gurgles on the blood Drawn by the blade that was our Moscow march
Gourgaud By number & by nature, the extant Buildings & resources throughout Moscow Offer a military position Preferable to any other site This side of the River Nieman, sire
Caulaincourt But as you said yourself, there is in war A singular favorable moment, The great art is to seize it, we should leave
Napoleon Gourgaud, explain to Caulaincourt, simply, How well the army has been provided for
Gourgaud For half a year our larders shall remain With beets abundant, round as bowling balls, Plump cabbages gathering like oceans, Each passing hour discoveries are made In shops & cellars; foodstuffs, clothes & drink The deep detritus of the bourgeoisie
Napoleon You see, Caulaincourt, if we must remain We shall do so, quartering in comfort Foraging furniture & firewood & bringing in all hay for fifteen miles
Caulaincourt This is a reckless gamble, if retreat Will come, we are completely unprepar’d, For wheat’s showing scarce, cattles dwindling fast With no preparations for departure When cold comes in we’ll dare not take a step Else lose our feet & fingers in the frosts & if our horses shoed a pinless smoothe They’ll slip on ice & break their slender legs
Napoleon Ha – you worry too much, like a fusswife The ever, over-cautious Caulaincourt
Berthier Your Majesty, you should heed his advice Hoping for peace just keeps thee prisoner In this queer, gremlin castle call’d Kremlin
Napoleon Eugene?
Eurgene remains silent
Eugène de Beauharnais
Caulaincourt What harm could come of idle hours Spent lining coats with fur, or sewing hats & gloves, constructing sledges just in case
Napoleon If it will ease my ears do what you will This is no time to worry of biscuits There are more pressing businesses at hand Prince Neuchetal, you have read the despatch From Murat
Berthier I have, sire
Napoleon What are its bones?
Berthier The King of Naples full of flattery Pays tribute to his Cossack counterpart His linguals spun infloraling with praise & says how Russian arms are readying Capitulation, & how the Cossacks, Embroil’d beneath mourning despondancy, Could even fight for France, oppose the Tsar
Napoleon So you see, Caulaincourt, it is only One time or two before my fate’s fair tide Oerwhelms this state
Caulaincourt Do not trust half-accounts They might be mischievous exaggerations
The Cossack could be blowing obscure dust Into his eyes, blaming the wand’ring wind
Gourgaud Look where we are, men of twenty nations Secure within the city of the Tsars Emanating European progress Against this explicit, Asiatic Barbarianism – this serf-struck land Of strict taboos & chains prohibitive Must make a common cause with our reforms
Eugene Allow me to interject a moment
Napoleon Of course Eugene, what patterns form your thoughts
Eugene Like deer enstartl’d by a hunter’s gun Petersburg is emptying at a pace They flee to England those who can afford Already the Tsarina’s jewellry & royal archives heav’d off to London With all the strength & purpose of his mind The Tsar should be eager to make profit Sire, seize this opportunity, enter Negotiations, appease the nobles, For the folly of Moscow’s flameletting Is one that forms a madman’s boast today But tomorrrow must end in penitence
Napoleon I agree – & I thank you for your time Each man of you, now if you could all depart Except for Caulaincourt, enjoy your day
Exit Eugene, Gourgaud & Berthier
Napoleon Brandy?
Caulaincourt I shall refrain Your Majesty
Napoleon {pouring out a glass of brandy} This is a war to end uncertainty Assure security’s tranquility The European system as founded Needs only to be soundly organized Europe – one happy people, & at peace, Wherever one could travel he would find Compliance in a common fatherland I will be demanding untoll’d freedom Of every navigable river While great standing armies shall be reduced Henceforth to be mere guards of soveriegns Including Alexander’s come the sense, No other issue than fair & prompt peace Possible seems, I would hate to destroy Alexander – I love the man too much We must make peace – will you go Caulaincourt
Caulaincourt Go
Napoleon Yes, go, to Petersburg & the Tsar Deliver my proposition of peace
Caulaincourt He will refuse
Napoleon What makes you so certain
Caulaincourt He said to me if you’d make war on him It is possible, even probable He’d be defeated, but that would not mean You would dictate a peace, an exemplar Was made of Spain, tho’ beaten many times Them no submittance pled, & them not so Far away from Paris as we now stand, Lacking recourse to call on resources To tackle Russian climate’s devil task
Napoleon Piffle! I have been proffer’d fairy tales About your Russian climate – it is, well, Pleasant
Caulaincourt It is unseasonable sire
Napoleon Tis unreasonable to pester me
Whenever have the vanquish’d set the terms
Caulaincourt He marvels at your abilities, sire But not that of your marshalls, he will fight & take no risk, use his natural room Telling me frankly about Kamchatka How he could set his court up in the east Rather than ceding provinces & sign Some treaty, more finite truce expected
Napoleon Expel those thoughts at once, unhappiness At all the punishments I’ve dealt your friend Undermines your loyalty to this crown, Will you go
Caulaincourt I will not be received, sire, For certain, as he knows I know his mind, To be there on such terms insult would prove As such would tarnish everything hard wrought Thro’ all my months in Petersburhg
Napoleon You fear Repugnancy to serve this task I ask
Caulaincourt He will not sign peace in his capital Until entirely evacuated From his territories he will not hear A word of your proposal, your letter Will not be read
Napoleon The Tsar is surrounded By English partisans, who’d cut his throat Than make a peace with France, Alexander Said to me himself he hates the English As much as France does {Napoleon takes Caulaincourt by the arm & paces to & fro} You must go to him Solicit peace upon your hands & knees If it would deign be granted – but if not We will march on the northern capital From which conquest conspiracy must fray His sacred kingship, rip him from the throne Thro’ circumstances well avoidable
Caulaincourt The roads to distant Petersburg are long Inching thro’ morrasses, impassable Just three hundred pitchfork bearing peasants Could bar the advance, what of our wounded Here? are we to leave them for Kutusoff Him snapping at our heels all of the way As if we were fleeing to a conquest
Napoleon Kutosoff is beaten, but I accept The season for Petersburg is passing But if not the whole army, then just you, Will you go
Caulaincourt Not willfully to folly Why would he set his capital on fire To make peace in the ashes & the char Only from facing banks of Nieman’s flow Could understanding come
Napoleon Where is your faith It seems the Tsar infects your very thoughts I ought to strip you of all your titles Shall I send instead Monsieur Toutalmine As my plenipotentiary, shall I
Caulaincourt As you wish, sire, it will be of no use
Napoleon I must have peace, I absolutely must I want this peace, my honour must be saved But if you dare not deliver my words You can at least inscribe them on the page
Armand-Augustin-Louis de Caulaincourt
Caulaincourt Yes Sire… they will be considered but proof Of the poor state of your embarassment
Napoleon Enough – remember, I am emporer, Who thinks & acts in realms unknown to all Except for those who lord oer millions I shall begin
Caulaincourt Sire
Napoleon Dear Alexander Russia’s emperor, I wish you no harm This superb city exists no longer Its governor had given the order To burn the ornate work of centuries But fires, at last, appearing to have ceas’d Only a quarter of Moscow remains Such conduct is uselessly atrocious That leaves to ghosts each village from Smolensk Since Moscow was exposed by Russian arms In the interests of your majesty, Humanity & its inhabitants, Its care to me was confided in trust Administration, magistrates & gaurds Are set in place as to plans adopted In Vienna, Madrid & Berlin twice I know well your majesty’s principles For justice, without animosity While we were waging war a single note Would have halted my march at any time Sacrificing the advantage at once Of entering Moscow – if you retain Some remains of your former sentiments You will take this letter in a good part By this, my dear sir, my brother, I pray To God he will preserve your majesty… Is it neat
Caulaincourt Yes
Napoleon Then I shall sign straightways {Napoleon signs the decree} Have it despatched to Petersburg today With Moseiur Toutalmine & twenty gaurds
Caulaincourt Yes, your majesty
Napoleon O, & Caulaincourt Do not ever, ever, doubt ,me again
Exit Napoleon / Caulaincourt reads through the letter shaking his head
Bourgogne, Legrand, Boquet are stretched on animal skins, wearing turbans, drinking & smoking magnificent pipes
Bourgogne, Legrand, Boquet, Graingier, Leboude {singing in a round} We are resting in bubble beds of silk furs & feathers In the nest of the double-headed eagles We are blest with abundance & the punch does us wonders As a guest of the double-headed eagle
Enter Rossi, the quartermaster
Rossi I have prepared a dazzling punch for you
Graingier Good man Rossi, quartermaster supreme
Rossi What a sight you forge, like Turkish pashas Discussing each other’s seraglios & the passionate merits of your wives
Legrand At this moment in time I’d take just one, & ermine call her, skin soft as this fur
Boqet Mine would be lion,
Bourgogne Mine sable
Leboude Mine fox
Graingier & mine some buxom Siberian bear
Rossi While you laugh & drink & smoke til you burst I’ve been all-a-foraging, high & low Up attics, down cellars, whose keeps disclosed Rum from Jamaica, most excellent beer Deep pack’d in ice to keep summer’s fresh A drop of which ferments this punch newmade, Its gusto an enthusiast should charm, Come try a ladle’s worth
Graingier Quite wonderful!
Leboude No, not for me, I’ve had my fill of drink
Bourgogne Then I’ll have his… that kicks like angry mule!
Enter Mother Dubois
Dubois O what it is to be Cantiniere To such an idle company as this
Legrand But you love us Mother Dubois
Dubois I did When you were gallant, not lazy sultans
Boqet What do you cook us today
Dubois A little Salted fish sauted in suet butter & half a ham for supper if you please
Boqet Such is the conqueror’s prerogative To regally banquet in royal garb To dinner as a Duke, & then return To all the adulations in the town Aline processions home, where glory waits
Graingier There is a rumour rife among the ranks That spitesBritain’s Continental blockade We are to go to China, there ensure Transglobal trade for eagle-soaring France
Leboude A few more thousand leages then, Graingier
Bourgogne All I would need is a new pair of shoes
Boquet But first we winter in this queenless hive Where once a beekeper’s tap on the wall Responded by unanimous humming Of bees in tens of thousands, such a buzz; But now, if he would open up the hive Instead of serried rows aseal each gap Just complex combs neglected, sickly frail In the corners old bees languidly fight, Clean themselves, or feed one another Unknowing why they do these deeds at all For in this Hive’s heart, that once was so grand, The high mystery of generation Reduced to sleeping shells of listless bees, Reeking of death, a few move feebly still Dragging blunt stingers uselessly behind
Enter Foucart & two young Russian women – Valentina & Natasha – carrying bundles of clothes
Foucart Boys, boys, my treasures are most splendid, look!
Legrand How lucky you for two, you’ll be sharing
Foucart Not these young haberdasher maids made mine For six months service, no, but what they bare The emboss’d costumes of many nations Mens & womens, look, there are French dresses, Fashion’d to favour Louis the Sixteenth
Dubois & even a basket of wigs I see I say lets shake a make-up & then dance
The party begin to dress up – Dubois becomes a French marquise, Valentina & Natasha become brides of Christ – One of the soldiers accompanies the revelry on his flute, another on a drum
***
PARISIENNE SKIES
We will be going to the ball, We’ll be rolling round the punch bowl Drinking ambrosia We shall be quaffing at the ball We’ll be falling down, stand up again, Cheeks turn’d rosier
Then when you see stardust come a tumbling down On the dance floor, she’s a ballerina
Go, to Nepal, to Provence, go to Delhi New York & Singapore, Berlin & Rome Feel if its right then decide if Parisienne Skies Were sent from on high to service our souls There’s summer inside those cinnamon skies Which sum up my soul
We shall be dancing at the ball, We’ll be rolling round the dance floor Kicking like stallions We shall be trailing round the ball We’ll be hail’d by all, regaling, Sailing like galleons Then when you see stardust come a tumbling down On the dance floor, shes a ballerina
Go, to Milan, Budapest & Vienna Dublin & Amsterdam, Tokyo too Feel if its right then decide if the houses that rise On Parisienne Skies were sent for our souls There’s summer inside those cinnamon skies Which sum up my soul
I heard that life is for living Laughing & loving & finding the time To graze on new pastures Velvet horizons rise up in your mind Tho’ I’m full of the wanderlust Why don’t you come home with me We could go touring the old arrondissiments Of the empire pearl, Paris So beautiful She’s so beautiful…
***
Dubois {drunk} Temperance & Prudence, Lord, my guides be
Leboude A march, strike the drum, my soldiers… at arms! {the drummer starts a march}
*******
ON VA LEUR PERCER LE FLANC
As the soldiers are marching Valentina & Natasha begin to dance quiet energetically, jumping like tartars, flying left to right, swinging arms & legs, falling backwards then getting back up again & redoubling the energy of their efforts, much to the amusement of the party
On va leur percer le flanc Rantanplan tire lire lan Ah! ce qu’on va rire! Rantanplan tire lire On va leur percer le flanc Rantanplan tire lire lan.
Le petit tondu sera content Rantanplan tire lire lan Ca lui f’ra bien plaisir Rantanplan tire lire On va leur percer le flanc Rantanplan tire lire lan.
Car c’est de là que dépend Rantanplan tire lire lan Le salut de l’Empire Rantanplan tire lire On va leur percer le flanc Rantanplan tire lire lan.
***
Enter Captain Vachain / he fires his musket to halt the party / Valentina throws her arms around his neck & kisses him
Vachain Get off me at once – in the name of God What is happening, have you all gone mad
Leboude We were just having a party, Captain
Vachain Well halt at once, turn sober by the morn The Emperor orders an inspection Of the entire army, we its best troops Apparently, I see such praise a sham
Leboude Of course sir, company, to attention
Some of the soldiers attempt to stand, but are too drunk
Vachain I cannot guess how we conquer’d Moscow! I’ll be back at Dawn, & Madame Dubois
Dubois Yes Captain Vachain, sir
Vachain No alcohol Is to be serv’d at the breakfast
Dubois Yes sir
Exit Vauchain, the party burst into laughter
Boquet You heard him lads, drink up your dregs, then shave We’d hardly want the Emperor’s dispraise
The party begin to tidy up in a state of semi-revelry
Napoleon Gourgaud, this is a sorry sight to see The diminuation of our army Disenergizes recent victories Men sensing tensions in this phyrric post Might dismoralize them in the fighting Next time arrange the lines two deep, not three
Gourgaud Yes, sire, of course
Napoleon {Addressing the troops} Soldiers of the Eagles Today is a day of celebration Of medals & promotions battle forg’d, Deserving all corners I gaze upon, Where men who washed their blood so many times, Across contested continental fields, Hold guns which shot our glory like a dart Into the stately heart of Russian realms Where all of us bore witness to a crime, The grossest deconstruction of Moscow By its own citizens, however base, Has proven their need to be civilized, Such matter will take time, of course, & toil, But Moscow yields fruitful stores to furnish Our cause with winter quarters, & supplies More than another place, we shall convert Monasteries, convents & the Kremlin Into a state of highly-tun’d defence We are to be heavily reinforced By fresh levied men hard marching from France, Troops of Polish Cossacks too advance, The wonders of our thunder incomplete, For new adventures let us steel ourselves Enflame firm hearts, throw frailty from the beat, & send to France her greatest ever news!
Exit Napoleon & the entourage
SCENE 5: Inside the Kremlin
Caulaincourt is pacing in a state of some agitation / Enter Napoleon, Eugene & Berthier
Napoleon Yesterday’s courier as yet arrives From Paris
Caulaincourt At present we wait still
Napoleon How can this be? It has been as easy To reach Moscow from Paris as Marseille, Fatiloquence curses perilous days Give me a drop of imperial mail It was never lately so late delay’d When organizing empires at the root One cannot bare to lose a single hour
Caulaincourt The longer the line the shorter the odds Of uncourteous disentegrations
Napoleon & what of Alexander, is there word
Caulaincourt No reply has been received
Napoleon Not one
Caulaincourt No sire
Napoleon His silence sheds the taint of disrespect Of criminals caught in inquisition I am amazed by my adversary This wordlack steals the thunder of my guns Successes in the Spring will be too late All Europe’s eyes would view it a reverse I never reckon’d on the Tsar’s strange hush We have play’d out the game with each other What is there now to do but fold the board Not one offensive insult was exchang’d & now our noble duelling is over We should come to terms, remain best of friends When no animosities would prevent Our signing preliminaries of peace To instigate dequandreal withdrawl From our menacing presence in Moscow
Caulaincourt The delegation to the Tsar has fail’d To stay by day expands infeasible Our soldiers cannot stand without a drink Their strength diminishes each precious hour, While the winter will masticate, surely, Most of our couriers
Napoleon Russia’s winter? It seems to be a common fairy tale This Autumn finer than at Fontainbleu
Caulaincourt You have not seen the dark days here, I have, We must avoid a protracted sojurn
Napoleon You seem half-frozen from your memory Besides, winter’s extremliest rigours Will not arrive within the short, sharp span Of twenty four hours, & tho’ we might be Less accliamtised than the enemy We are fundamentally more robust
Caulaincourt Winter shall explode like tunell’d fuse-mines Beneath sleeping cities, in two swift weeks Nails drop off first then fingers follow suit
Enter Gourgaud is some distress holding a despatch
Gourgaud Your majesty
Napoleon Yes
Gourgaud The courier
Napoloeon Finally
Gourgaud No, sire, it has been attack’d The riders all captur’d, their packages Confiscated by a swarm of Cossacks
Napoleon Then what is that you hold?
Gourgaud Word from Murat There has been a battle your majesty
Napoleon A battle
Gourgaud Yes
Napoleon Where
Gourgaud The south screen
Napoleon Give it me {Napoleon reads the despatch} This news distresses most emunctory, Miroladovitch breaks the armistice King Murat is defeated & at rout From Woronovo, I knew it, just knew
Berthier How many dead
Gourgaud A thousand
Berthier & the guns
Gourgaud Thirty six lost, while fifteen hundred men Were by Fedorovitch made prisoners
Eugene The Cossacks must have rused him all along
Napoleon What folly of the King, this changes all
Caulaincourt What do you mean your majesty,
Napoleon We must Outwipe the fray’d effects of this surprise Punishing the Russian impertinance Re-establish upon the battlefield The honour of our arms, before the snare Encloses us completely, take battle To our hideous, perfidious foes, Then winter in Smolensk, from there to march On Petersburg, when flows fine-weather’d Spring.
Caulaincourt You mean we are to leave Moscow
Napoleon At once How is the army at the last account
Berthier There are 95,000 soldiers, sire Five thousand infantry of the Old Guard & a thousand of the Young
Napoleon Cavalry
Eugene Fifteen thousand regular, the Guard four
Napoleon & cannon
Gourgaud Five hundred fit for service
Napoleon Well they should see us safely thro the weeks It takes to reach Smolensk, Prince Neuchetal
Berthier Yes, sire
Napoleon I have a special job for you
Berthier What is it
Napoleon You must burn down the Kremlin, The brandy stores, barracks & palaces, Destroy sulphur, saltpetre, stables, magazines Break muskets in pieces, smash caisson wheels But, as I might return to Moscow yet, Save everything of value to our arms – Powder, cannonballs, cartridges & lead.
Berthier Yes Sire
Eugene & your orders for the army
Napoleon We march on the morrow – rest well tonight Sleepless-started journies rarely fare well.
SCENE 6: The Gates of Moscow
Bourgogne is marching with his company / he is wearing a yellow silk waistcoat over a shirt padded on the inside, & a large ermine cape
Bourgogne O what a sight this monstrous caravan Of carts & wagons rumbling four abreast Look, Boquet, some are shatter’d already, Wheels sinking deep ruts in the sandy road Listen, as twenty nationalities Converse cacophonic by Babel’s walls There’s swearing in French, oaths in Low German, Italians entreating the almighty, While Portuguese the Holy Virgin praise, There are so many countries & dialects, It seems as if the Grecian games remade, But one where reigns anarchy & chaos.
Boquet With all our beer & brandy abandon’d! A tragedy, Bourgogne, what need have we Upon long marches of heavy treasures With all that fur & fabric on their backs They seem a people of the patriarchs
Bourgogne They do indeed, loot weighs them heavy down & I too carry the weight of trinkets But looking at those broken wagon wheels I think a little lessening of load Seensible & prudent in the halting I’ll catch up soon
Leboude I’ll wait with you sergent
Bourgogne Now let me see what my not little greed Made ventures on my knapsack & my belt – Some rice & several pounds of sugar Some biscuit, half a bottle of liqueur A red silk dress all the way from China Some ornamental gold & pieces carv’d & a little bit of the silver gilt That cover’d the cross of Ivan the Great A large riding cloak lined with green velvet Two silver pictures, each ten inches high, The judgement of Paris on Mount Ida The other Neptune, on chariot shell Drawn by sea-horses, both are angels’ work, & what is this – ah! some prince’s spitton Such stunning set of presents for my friends So they must all remain – perhaps my clothes Would serve me better absent from my bags, I will not wear these trouser whites again, & what about my pouch, what lies in there… I’ll need to keep this crucifix for luck & adore this porcelain Shanghai vase, They both must stay curated for the march, My wee museum of two thousand miles! But there is more, a dark grey overcoat & weighty box knotted in handkerchief
Leboude I travel lightly sergent, give them me & you’ll recieve them safe on our return
Bourgogne Are you sure
Leboude Quite sure
Bourgogne Good man
Leboude Good sergent
Bourgogne laughs / a sound of firearms in the distance – enter Legrand
Legrand To arms, to arms, six thousand cossack horse Fair favourd by the fog did now emerge Upon the flanks – our fightback has begun.
Caulaincourt Your majesty, it is late, are you well
Napoleon It is early, the day just beginning See to it that the door is firmly closed, & come and sit bedside me for a while
Caulaincourt Yes sire, this is not your normal habit
Napoleon But this is not a normal episode Let us be frank in the discussive purse Of lips released by two long loyal friends A pagan pox upon these toxic times Of how they try sensations on all sides, Still the army, my beautiful army, Entertaining cheerful dispositions, Counters each looming maleficience With admirable applomb.
Caulaincourt Have you not Seen the extreme disorganization Such feats of arms cannot indefinite Continue, there are many miseries To come caused by the cold severity We shall mourn the army in its ashes Remember the report of the reply Made by the Tsar to your peace proposal,
Napoleon He said his campaign was just beginning
Caulaincourt Yes sire, take his reply literally With each day fresh of the season’s passing Fate favours Russia more
Napoleon But your prophet, Has been an error-maker more than once I find your forecast a stray chicken bone Stuck in the throat of sensible thinking In one’s week’s time his buckish host shall be No better of a fettle for battle Than ours, they too need rest, moiety Of masses from statehead spreads in motion When buried in the moment’s gravity Unexpert anarchs lead for doom their flock As for the coming cold let me predict Our troops’ superior intelligence Shall forge them precautionary safegaurds Against the frost, & probably improve On Russian methods.
Caulaincourt We are to master In days where the Russians had centuries
Napoleon We shall, without doubt
Caulaincourt pauses a moment digesting Napoleon’s high-mindedness
Caulaincourt Have you given thought As to the Winter quarters & the line
Napoleon When reinforced we will not need to stand Stock-still on stiffen’d ankles ’til the spring There shall be motion & mobility
Caulaincourt But will we last as long, the rendezvous With all reinforcing battalions Must be beyond the Berezinan flow Which will be gaurded, sire, could the army Reach as far as there, lamentable chance, Weapons abandoned, food is running short; When horses fall exhausted in their tracks Meat hack’d & carved from bones while mouths still breathe Horseflesh with mouldy flour paste made normal Among the wretched men you claim so strong,
Napoleon They shall survive this trial, we all shall, & in the spring rhimotacles shall ride from Anthony to our Augustan fate It is probable I’ll go to Paris The moment that the army is secure, To organize re-energization Of our ever prosp’rous state – what say you Upon my thoughts, would it inflict a mean Impression of me in the minds of men
Caulaincourt It is useful what you think of doing Sire, to offset this retreat’s impression By personal appearance in Paris, For as man’s nature the mutable cloud Our plight seems to me more precarious Than you see or can believe, the question Is truly what the devil might attempt In Europe thro’ your absence, you should leave, For emperors flogging the fields too long Return in the dead waste of middle night To find his power skating on a swamp Marshier than by Sevres-Niortaise
Napoleon Agreed, peregrinating pavonine The French are all female, we must not stay Away from them long, else schemers surface From grates & gutters, gremlins filling thoughts With fateful fancies, faking grave events With conniving & conversible speech Estranging faith with a pale-hearted fear It is certain my presence in Paris Would end all dreams of treason, melding hearts To hasten contrudation of forces Which armies raise in just eleven weeks
Caulaincourt Another army & another war?
Napoleon If we are forced to fight then fight we must But… do you think the Tsar might acquiesce To overtures of peace now the army Evacuates the provinces by day
Caulaincourt No more than when we waited at Moscow, Especially now, they’ll sling exultance Across the paths to Poland
Napoleon Enough
Caulaincourt Sire
Napoleon {yawning} It does feel late, perhaps I’ll sleep awhile
Napoleon dozes off, exit Caulaincourt
SCENE 2: The Field of Borodino
Enter Bourgogne, Legrand, Boquet, Graingier, Leboude, Foucart, Rossi, Captain Vachain / on a ridge over Borodino the company halts in horror
Vachain This is a Stygian sight, hide your eyes Refrain from gazing on this trampl’d plain Upon the blood-dyed standards & the drums That mark the tombs of fifty generals Thro’ thirty thousand corpses half-devour’d Death fixes here his empire, let us wait Until the set of eve before we weave Passages thro’ melancholic tatters Of our beloved in forces in their prime
Graingier Who could have thought that those heroes who fought The famous battle of the Moskowa Would tread again its soil in full retreat
Legrand We have pickl’d in such juices before Remember how we dash’d against the gates of Asia, back in ninety eight, back then We presented ourselves as conquerors Before retreating with bleeding noses
Boquet But we triumphed under the Pyramids Rode horses thro the Kremlin’s corridors They whom serve not shall never understand The spirit of a soldier, they who drift Safe in commodious habitations – But what are pleasures & advantages Against the great work, glorious begun, When thirsty of that fame insatiable Victory’s intoxicating fever Impels men forth with powerful instinct To seek out death & immortality!
Rossi Lets build a fire, it is damn near freezing There is fuel aplenty, we should rest & burn the butts of rifles, frames of carts
Bourgogne A good plan quartermaster, I’ll collect Some water while the boys brake the wood Leboude
Leboude Yes sergeant
Bourgogne Come & help
Leboude Yes sir
Exit Bourgogne & Leboude
Captain Vachain What fight titanic forever inscribed On history’s memorial pages The Russian bear fought very brave all day We laugh’d at the striplings of Austerlitz But they have come of age upon this field Manifesting exhaustless persistence It was a deadly grave for cavalry When more than half our horsemen ne’er shall mount The broad backs of their kindred beasts again
Foucart When was the battle fought
Legrand Fifty-two days Ago by my account
Foucart What ghastly scene It was & is still
Graingier We waded in blood The earth refused to swallow – heads, arms, legs Strewn everywhere still
Rossi Russians in the main Ours lain to rest as far as possible Beneath this sorry turf
Foucart Done hastily As rain uncovers the debris of death The lowest degree of humanity Reveal’d, with barely a mortal semblance
Boquet Whose is this lance Graingier, well you know Our foes’ uniforms & insiginia
Graingier That weapon was wielded by an Uhlan This Tartar word light cavalry defines Look, there’s the square-topp’d hat its owner wore
Enter Bourgogne & Leboude carrying Martin, whose legs are shattered
Bourgogne We found a stream where the water flows rank Wriggling its course thro’ putrefying flesh Beside its stench we found this grenadier Alive
Martin I am alive, if this no dream
Vachain Methinks it would be us who were adream How could you have surviv’d this long in hell With both your legs ablown
Martin I slept beneath The body of a horse, gutted by shell Languishing for weeks I gnaw’d its raw flesh This strange & sepid, pestiforous fare Kept me abreathe upon this fatal field You get used to the water in the end But haunted & tortur’d everywhither By faradaic phantasm repines My mind said ‘the wind,’ my soul knew better Reflecting on the day inside this song Woven in moonlight to ward away wolves
***
THE BALLAD OF BORODINO
Martin I have been at the siege of Toulon, gave no quarter I was caught in the carnage strewn under the Austerlitz sun In battle I’ve never seen more of a terrible slaughter Than Borodino by the Russians’ redoubtable guns
Blood, blood, blood Is the gold of the conqueror Slay it away (at the altar) Where a man prays for his day
I was torn from my horse by a Hussar in fury My sabre slash’d swift, form’d a face flailing ribbons of flesh This was a trial before death without judge even jury As every next second I had to face dangers afresh
Blood, blood, blood Is the goal of the warrior Slay it away at the altar Where a man prays for his day Where a man pleads to his de-ity Not to reach heaven that day
Then out of the clouds came a cannonball falling It shatter’d my knees as it sank into inches of mud I cried out for comrades thro agonies more than apalling Fair price for a man who partakes in these Ballads of Blood
Blood, blood, blood Is the gold of the conqueror Slay it away (at the altar) Where a man prays for his day Where a man pleads to his de-ity Not to reach heaven that day
On the conclusion of the song Bourgogne drifts away once more
Vachain There is a convent but two miles away Where taken to were most of our wounded When many yet remain, the Emperor Has order’d their removal west by cart We’ll take you there
Not just yet, let me stay Awhile with healthy soldiers, hear your news Did you go to Moscow, & the Tsar, Is he defeated, & with it restored The Continental System,
Graingier Have some wine Let Rossi shall tell all you wish to know, He is the gossip-merchant of our troupe
Rossi begins to talk to Martin / enter Madame Dubois with Stephanie carrying a cooking pot between them
Dubois Here you go boys, don’t drink it all at once
Foucart Madame Dubois! What fills your cooking pot
Dubois Fresh water from a quarter league away
Graingier And who is this
Dubois Her name is Stephanie Made widow at Maloyaroslavets & she shall struggle lone at brink of term No more, her babe & she now in my care
Legrand Another mouth to feed
Dubois her mouth is french
Vachain Where is your cart
Dubois The axles broke both ends & all it carried stripp’d in moments mere, All of our provisions gone; the punch bowl my beautiful, clear-cut crystal punch bowl Thefted away by some beak-nosed lombard
Vachain All you say
Dubois Yes all
Vachain This is disastrous
Legrand No, not disaster, ’tis the devil’s work
Dubois Whether it be Lombard or the Devil We’ll all be making do & starting now I scraped a little flour up from the floor That is all I have left to make supper Thick soup of fresh horseflesh will have to do But before we begin the kitchen, boys, Come take a glug of acqua for canteens But leave half for the soup, now who has flour to spare
Graingier Here
Dubois & you, Leboude
Leboude I have some
Legrand Madame Dubois alas all mine is spent
Dubois so soon
Vachain Have some of mine
Dubois & you Boquet
Boquet I put mine at the same pot with Legrand
Dubois Foucart? {Foucart shakes his head in silence} Then this will have to do my boys Come stephanie, let us slice up the meat
Bourgogne returns with a bearskin
Bourgogne It fits me rather well, do you not think
Legrand Well look at the lucky fellow’s fortune
Graingier Bourgogne, I’ll swap you my mistress in Lille For that fine coat
Bourgogne I’ve seen her, keep her please
A busy scene – a snowdrop begins to fall – as Bourgogne is rearanging his bearskin, he stretches out his arms – the first snowflake of winter falls in one of his outstretched hands
Enter Vasalisa, two teenage boys (Vitaly & Vladamir), a woman called Angelina & her teenage daughter Albina – they are wielding scythes, pitchforks, axes & bear spears
Vasalisa So this the starry city of the Tsars It has certainly lost its old lustre Find what you can from lead to free lodgings
Exit Albina, Angelina, Vitaly & Vladamir – enter an old man shuffling
Vasalisa Hey, old man… yes you… are you Muscovite {Old Man nods} So much destruction, tell me what was lost
Old Man It was a very devastating blow, But we’ll rebuild them all, the Moscow State University & the Petovsky Theatre, & Buturlin’s library Were all destroy’d completely, works of art Beyond presciousness & divinity Deceased in the harsh nature of these times I am a poet-scholar, & bewail Above all else the ever senseless loss Of a singular & source manuscript To flamegrip, ‘The Tale of Igor’s Campaign,’ Houses of bricks may be rebuilt, but art May only be imitated, the soul Of our nation has been tainted by France
Vasalisa The intensity of my enmity For vile invaders burns in me brighter Than any blaze that might have burned your books
Enter Vitaly & Vladamir
Vitaly Mistress Vasalisa
Vasalisa Yes Vitaly
Vitaly We have found sacks & sacks of gunpowder Just sitting in a warehouse in neat rows
Vasalisa Any gaurds
Vladamir None
Vasalisa Fill the cart with twenty
Vladamir & Vitaly Yes mistress
Exit Vladamir & Vitaly
Vasalisa The French seem too forgetful, We’ll make then wish they’d burn’d that warehouse down
Old Man My wish is to be fighting beside you Good luck & kill as many as you can
Exit Old Man
Enter Albina & Angelina with Valentina & Natasha
Angelina Mistress these two were begging us for food
Vasalisa Are they Russian
Valentina We are
Vasalisa Then we have food
Vasalisa Why are you both here in Moscow
Natasha This is our home
Valentina Our dear mother was killed In the fire, our house destroyed
Natasha Our father & brothers all died at Borodino
Vasalisa A rake’s worth of woes dredging tragedy Come join us girls, our happy family Has swell’d with widows & orphans like you – My kisslove husband was recently slain By drunken French pigs, despite his status As village starosta, an evil tithe On which I swore revenge
Valentina Do you have food
Vasalisa We procure support, plentiful supplies Whichever village pass’d through for the cause
Natasha Where are you from
Vasalisa Sychyovsky of Smolensk
Valentina & Natasha whisper to themselves
Valentina We wish to make you mistress & to fight
Natasha Beside you in this partisanic war
Vladamir & Vitaly return
Vasalisa Vladamir, Vitaly, come here & meet Our latest recruits to the company What are you names, I neglected to ask
Valentina Valentina
Natasha Natasha
Albina Albina
Angelina & I am Angelina
Vasalisa We must bless Lord God the Tsar forbade peace When, after unattainted sacrifice, & retreats insane, as long as there are Russians alive able to wield a spear Scythe or pitchfork, their duty sigillates Upon the soul astrive, to consummate This death-wish of the French & drive the Poles Back to their poorer palaces, then toss The King of Naples yelping yon the Alps.
Angelina We sense a turning of the tides of strength We Russians rise spryly in our spirits
Vitaly & in our numbers, too, no longer trail
Vladamir Passed to our side superiority! The French are now afraid of open fields & race to Paris in a straggleline
Albina Encrusted by the elements them made A stray mad dog we worry shall to death Like agile bees stinging a bleeding bear Inside desperate fits of exhaustion
Angelina Our mission is to trap & captivate Each foolhardy French forager that dares Abandon lines in search of branch & food Like fallen leaves wind-toss’d from wither’d tree
Vitaly The graves of the French are dug already In the sacred soil of Mother Russia & we shall send Napoleon packing The monster who makes the world unhappy
Vasalisa Then we shall need our strength for such a feet The girls are hungry, I am hungry too
Angelina There are huge piles of food in the palace
Vasalisa The Tsar will leave Petersburg until The French are driven firmly from his soil – Tonight we eat & sleep like royalty Tsarina Vasalisa sounds the ring!
Exeunt
SCENE 4: The Russian Countryside
The Company are led by Colonel Bodel / They arrive at the side of a wood
Colonel Bodel Here’s the refuge lads, fine shelter begins About thick’ning woods, softening the edge Of ice-knife winds, the company shall make A sumptuous stew of fresh slain horse-flesh To send us strength to march these last few days Into Smolensk where food & warmth await
Leboude & Foucart begin to make a horseflesh stew
Boquet Warmth, warmth, what a wonderful idea I am longing from cold; veins harden, chill’d, God help us, there must be twenty degrees of frost, I’m frozen, from icicle beard To feelingless feet, fingers stuck to guns Eyelids seal’d by snow, with all of my joints Fragile as alabaster, start the fire!
Graingier What heavy snows the north wind hurls on heads Then sucks boots down into its shifting lake From civilized march, thro’ anxious retreat To wild escape, in matter of mere days This is brazen disaster without claim To honour
Bourgogne The harder grows the pathway The greater the glory
Rossi How glorious We must appear – badly dress’d, lacking food Denied of any fortifying juice
Vachain The corps are all disbanded, & scarcely A quarter of the soldiers still remain Marching with their regimental standards – Too cold to clutch their weapons these are thrown Beside the road with all their cartridges To reach Smolensk the only common sense Over vast snows snail-moving silently Slouching atop the bodies of dead friends Nobody orders, nobody obeys, If this is glory, I’d hate to see Hell
Stephanie {buckling in pain} Mon dieu!
Dubois stephanie!
Stephanie I feel the mighty flushing push of life My baby is born
Dubois Quickly, quickly, warm me some water There, there, rosepetal we shall settle this Saintly affair with healthy cherubim
Bodel Surgeon Legrand
Legrand Yes Colonel
Bodel Take my cloak To cover the girl, help Madame Dubois Deliver this infant into safety
Legrand Yes sir, Dubois, sit her on my jacket
Dubois There you go, sweetheart… where is that water
Legrand Now let me see, open your legs – a head! Life’s signature its little swab of hair
Stephanie Well get them out then, the head & the hair
Legrand Push! Push!… keep pushing… that’s it, almost there
Stephanie It is just as stubborn as my husband Where is my husband
Dubois Stay strong Stephanie You can do this, take my hand, squeeze & push
Legrand With one last push your baby shall be born
Stephanie gives birth to a boy to the cheers & relief of the company
Legrand It is a fine boy, full finger’d & toed
More hurrahs from the company / Legrand cuts the umbillical chord / gives the baby to Dubois who washes him
Stephanie Thank you surgeon
Legrand Thank God in all this death It seem’d he wished to rush life back to us He came so quick, like raindrops from a cloud
Dubois Here you are Stephanie, your son, your child He will break some hearts when he is older
Stephanie He has his father’s nose
Dubois His mother’s eyes
Men gather around the cooking pot
Graingier The aroma of boiled meat breaks the turf That keeps my sanity, digs a deep hole To my stoumach, & makes me scream in pain Cursing this fearful hunger never known In all my years I’ve marched behind the drum Starving is madness, I would demolish the very devil if he was well cook’d
Bourgogne This hunger of wolves drives me to the hunt I’ll see what I can gather in the wood & if I meet somebody with a loaf Of bread, I shall force it broken in half No – I would kill him to possess it all
Vachain Do not foget to share Sergeant Bourgogne Of course, my global comrades, I’ll bring back A handsome banquet to the bivouac
Exit Bourgogne
Boquet Vegetables, sawdust bread & horse meat What I would do to eat a little fruit A juicy red apple from normandy
Bodel Even juicier are the tomatoes From Roussillon, I would kill for just one
***
POMME DE TERRES
Boquet For 25 francs I shall sell you a lovely potato For 200 roubles I’ll brew you a beautiful soup
Bodel I’ve a fortune at home & a villa in Rome In Valenciennes I’ve a vineyard & men But I’d swap it all for just one little sweet red tomato
All I am hungry for my country men I am starving to my heart We are famished little savages Now the army has fallen apart
Graingier For 25 francs I shall sell you a green avocado For 200 roubles I’ll do you a succulent soup
Foucart I’d exchange a courgette for my mistress Annette My wife Marie-Lou’s worth a turnip or two But I’d swap them all for just one little sweet red tomato
All Potato… tomato I am hungry for my coq au vin, I am starv’d for cherry tart But sausages & cabbages In gravy would do for a start
I am hungry for my country men I am starving to my heart We are savage little scavengers now the army has fallen apart
A French soldier, Corentin, is boiling potatoes – enter Bourgogne to one side – Corentin plunges a knife in the pot, pulls out a potato, pinches it to see if it is boiled, then places it back in the pot
Corentin Another few minutes, my true beauties Of dining with you all I’ve dreamt enough Tonight I shall taste in celebration Your famous flavors awaltz on warm tongue
Bourgogne begins to secretly circiut Corentin – all at once Bourgogne runs at Corentin – brushwood crackles alerting Corentin, who stands up
Bourgogne Filial warrior, you must either sell Or give me some potatoes, & if not By sheer force I shall carry off the lot
Corentin But, sir, this pot does not belong to me It is my master’s, of general’s rank, Who camps close by & orders me to hide Inside these woods to secretly attend The soft succilising of these earth-fruits To feed us both tomorrow
Bourgogne Take these coins
Bourgogne begins to take pototaes from the pot
Corentin But sergeant, they are not yet boiled enough
Bourgogne You try & fool me
Corentin Sir, pinch one & see
Bourgogne It is boiled enough (devouring the potatoes – through chewing he says…} You got any salt?
Corentin No sir, the last of that went yesterday Yet so, these lack all fitness for eating If undercook’d beckon styptic sickness
Bourgogne I have had far worse in the inns of Conde I’m taking half, & if you dare object I shall take the whole, do you understand
Corentin nods
Corentin Take seven
Bourgogne You already have ten francs & here’s another five
Corentin What is money These fifteen francs in one week shall provide For just one rotten potato, I’m sure, But – one, two, three, four, five, six & seven
Bourgogne The gratitude of all the saints on you I’ll not be forgetting your charity Or name…
Corentin I am Corentin
Bourgogne Adrien Fair blessings with you on this eaglesflight
Corentin & you sir
Bourgogne begins to leave
Corentin Sergent, sergent, do come back
Bourgogne What is it
Corentin Take two more for your comrades
Bourgogne Thank you & keep your musket free of ice
Exit Bourgogne
SCENE 6: The Guard’s camp
Bourgogne returns
Foucart Sergent – how did you fare, well?
Legrand Yes tell us, If you are able to add anything Other than horse meat to this brewing stew
Bourgogne Alas, no
The soldiers turn their backs on him & bang their musket butts on the ground
Dubois At least you tried, here’s you share
Bourgogne takes a bowl of stew & starts to wolf it down in one
Dubois Another wolf
Bourgogne What is wrong with Boquet
Dubois From him fear flows this night, from others too These are rare hours of tragedies combin’d
Graingier With all hell’s powers issued loose it seems Aslant the icy shelves of Cocytus Wind’s razorblade slicing my marrow’d bones, Sealing eyelids, sticking fingers to guns
Bourgogne I’ll bless the Lord God for my coat & cape
Bourgogne hollows out a bed from the snow / enter soldiers wearing great white cloaks & the young Prince Emile of Hesse-Cassel / his adjutant addresses the Gaurds
Adjutant Men, this is Prince Emile of Hesse-Cassel He shall be sleeping near your fire tonight
There is indifference from the Gaurds – the soldiers of the prince surround him to form a human shelter – meanwhile Bourgogne gets a sneaky potatoe out & eats it quietly – the night comes on – occasionally Bourgogne wakes & checks his potatoes by counting them – in the predawn Bourgogne wakes up & sits on his napsack – he bayonets a hole in his bear skin so its head falls on his chest – he puts his own head through the hole & settles down – there is a scream from Stephanie
Stephanie My baby, my son, as stiff as a board
The company wake up, but Boquet is dead
Stephanie My son, my baby son
Dubois Plesase stephanie Give him to me
Stephanie No
Dubois Please, give him to me It is sadness beyond all sadnessess When mothers lose a child, but in this case Its best for both the baby & yourself
Stephanie It is best, to die
Dubois Aye, and die today, Before he dies the long death of hunger Give him to me my girl
Stephanie No
Dubois You must do it Leboude, here, & Legrand, will bury him
Stephanie Then let me gaze one last time on his face & conjure all the birthdays of his youth Of how he looked his first day at the schools Goodbye my little prince {she kisses the baby, then hands him sadly to Dubois} Bury him deep Beneath the scent of wolves
Dubois Do as she says
Leboude & Legrand go to dig a grave / Leboude digs the earth while Legrand holds the baby – Dubois comfoirts stephanie / Prince Emile steps out from his human shelter, half of whom are dead
Adjutant Your majesty, how are you, are you well
Prince Emile I am, but these men, did they not survive
Adjutant They gave their warmth to you so you might live
Prince Emile Before we start I’d like to take coffee
Adjutant Yes sir, look, we can use that nearby fire
Prince Emile Let us go there at once
Adjutant Yes sir, company Follow your prince
Exit the Prince & his men, some half dead & stumbling – some remain to strip the clothes off the dead
Vachain I thought we French had ended all of that With the revolution, follow your prince Where, to oblivion?
One of the Prince’s men approaches Boquet & starts to strip him
Foucart Leave him alone
Soldier But he is dead
Foucart Dead! {the Soldier continues to strip Boquet} You will leave off him Unless you wish to join my friend’s long sleep From the vicinity of the Guards All thieves like yours are served with expulsion
Exit the the rest of the Prince’s men
Foucart Boquet is frozen hard He does not speak, nor move, nor whisp of breath Is seen or heard,
Vachain Then bury his honour Beside the child, let the warrior sleep, Quartermaster,
Rossi Sir
Vachain Go & sprag Foucart & I shall start the fire embers aglow, A dragon’s blow will get the show started
Vachain blows on the fire & it starts / in secret Bourgogne tries to eat a potato but it is rock solid & his teeth slip
Graingier Adrien, what hold you there… in your hand
Bourgogne Struggling thro’ night hunger stabs me awake Predominating upon dead patience As soon as dawn made traces in the sky I was compelled to search again the woods & found potatoes I’m about to share
Graingier Potatoes!
Bourgogne Potatoes
Graingier Real potatoes
There is a mad dash to Bourgogne – Legrand, Leboude & Graingier try & bite but the potatoes are too hard
Legrand Let us soften these treasures in the flames
Rossi & Foucart arrive
Foucart Are they potatoes
Leboude Aye
Foucart Where were they found
Leboude Ask Bourgogne
Bourgogne From the wood
Rossi Which direction
Bourgogne Follow my finger forwards through the pine
Exit Foucart & Rossi / The potatoes in the fire melt away
Legrand Disastrous day, they melt away like ice
Graingier Curse this land when even food is frozen {puts a pan put on the fire} But all’s not lost, remember yesterday We bled a most unhappy horse & filled This saucepan, when congealing in the flames Wach one of us still breaks his fast this morn
Rossi & Foucart return
Rossi The snow has covered every living thing It is a futile prospect e’en to try
Graingier Those potatoes were uselss anyway Uneatable whether them hot or cold At least we have the horse blood, it thaws well
A blare of trumpets
Bourgogne What is that
Colonel Bodel We must move, the emperor Calls us
Graingier Take a portion, lads, use your hands
All the gaurds dip hands in blood & take a bit – beards smeared with blood / exit all but Dubois & Stephanie at the grave / Boquet lies unburioed beside them
Dubois We must go my child
Stephanie I cannot leave mine
Dubois What do you mean
Stephanie I have not got the strength Of soul, of mind, of body & of heart To leave this place, you have been good to me Now I shall be good to you, without me You will will manage much easier, please go
Dubois But you are delicate in daintihood How could you survive cold & the Cossacks
Stephanie I do not care, my mind cannot be moved Those men are your family – he is mine
Stephanie turns her back & attends the grave – Dubois looks at her a moment then leaves
Bourgogne, Leboude, Legrand & Foucart arrive at a large fire in a roofless house / an old Chasseur, Roland, sits by the fire / his feet are wrapped up in a sheepskin / his beard, whiskers, and moustache were filled with icicles
Foucart This devastated ruin is Smolensk? A town existing only by its name There’s nothing but rubble & troubles No houses for shelter, no provisions To feed us
Bourgogne Be tranquil, Foucart, Rossi Has gone to collect protected rations
Leboude What are Napoleonic promises These days
Roland His hederated majesty Is not to blame, his fame shines insolate, This present discomfiture not his fault I curse this land & all its mad-bred flaws & all who call its catacoombs a home, The worst of which is Alexander, Tsar! Now whom among ye brave kind lads has beer
Bourgogne We are as dry as Syrian desert
Roland Then I had better die
Leboude draws a bottle of brandy from his pocket
Leboude Here you are comrade, I have a drop or two, please help yourself
Roland drains the bottle – hands it back — Leboude tries to drink but finds it empty
Roland You save my life & If I ever have An opportunity to save yours back At the cost of my own, you may be sure I shall not hesitate for a second Remember Roland, Chasseur of the Guard, Now on foot, or to be exact, no feet Converted to a crude roturier I had to leave my horse three days ago, Blew out his brains to banish sufferings But here is a piece of his leg – have some
Leboude I am fine
Roland For the Brandy
Leboude I shall wait For our ration
Roland The right sort never die
Leboude True
Roland Not true! Not true! that speech a fool’s garland There were many a man as good as me Among the thousands dead these last three days I have soldier’d in Egypt, and, by God! Nothing could compare with all this, never! Hope to God & goodness troubles ended;
Foucart Veritable Pittacus Sarapus! For us our troubles only just begun The cold intensifying as each night Lengthens abreast the darkness of winter & falls again by four each afternoon No wonder numerous fools lose their way Gone blundering thro dusk & darkness both While others sleep too late waiting for sun Like drunken palliards in farmer’s barns & find the Russians rousing them with knives
Legrande It seems as if the Emperor expects Some miracle to alter the climate & ruin end descending every side.
Bourgogne So what if desolation devastates The greater the suffering & danger The greater the honour & the glory
Enter Rossi
Rossi I have your beef, boys, beef, come take a share
Legrand Rossi, you beauty
Foucart That looks amazing
The soldiers rush to get their share & fall on the meat like like wild beasts – Foucart, Bourgogne & Leboude star to cook theres on the fire – Legrand starts to devour his raw
Rossi What are you doing, it must first be cooked Are you a man or monstrous chimeran
Legrand I cannot wait another second, sir, This is the very ecstasy of life
Rossi Suit yourself
Legrand Where did you get such gold from
Rossi We were lucky, I had to swift become Hannibal riding Surus to persuade The Gauls of my importance, & the Guard – This is no promised land but Fratricide Frenchman kills Frenchman in his search for food & fortunes trade for bottles of brandy
Foucart Real meat! the quintessence of survival During all this miserable campaign I never saw as much as cow or sheep It is the devil’s country, hell all through Having scour’d hundreds of wretched hovels To discover what these peasants lived on Long struggling with unhappy tenantships All I could find was bread as black as coal, Too hard for teeth
Bourgogne {to Rossi} Give me Graingier’s share I’ll seek him out about Smolensk before Nightfall
Rossi Here you are sergeant, don’t take it For yourself
Bourgogne Of course not, on my honour {leibmotif} What was that?
Rossi What?
Bourgogne That sound
Rossi I cannot hear
{leibmotif}
Bourgogne There it is again
Rossi You are hearing things
Bourgogne No – there is Graingier, I can sense it
Exit Bourgogne in the direction of the leibmotif
Scene 2: Smolensk, a Church
It is smoky from a fire – Graingier & several other soldiers, some of whom are musicians, are gatherer’d around a church organ in a state of some drunkenness – enter Bourgogne – the singers perform Compère Guilleri
Graingier It is my sergeant! boys, Sergeant Bourgogne The hardiest warrior of the Guard Comrade, interpose yourself among us & meet my great new friends, Cuirassieres Of the Fourth Cavalry
Drunk Cuirassier {offering silver cup} Want some brandy
Bourgogne Thank you very much, man, here, Graingier, Come take your allocation of fresh beef
Graingier Quite beautiful
Bourgogne You look half seas over
Graingier But happy & warm, you should stay here sir & join us in our joyous revelries
Bourgogne I’ll take a little drink, but best I think To lie beside the fire
Graingier Do what you please There’s straw & fodder everywhere, ’twere meant For the horses, but most of them are dead
Rossi I have a litte rice & biscuit spare
Bourgogne In these days of evictive confusion When food not to be had for even gold, The greatest proof of friendship one could give Are such act as these
Graingier You would do the same
Bourgogne muses quietly a moment on the potato incident
Bourgogne My mind & limbs grow heavy in the heat I think I’ll burrow deep into the straw
Graingier Sleep well, I go to merrymake some more
Graingier rejoins the Cuirassiers – Bourgogne places his head on his knapsack & with his feet to the fire, goes to sleep
***
SONG OF THE LORICATED LEGION
Cuirassiers & Graingier Here we are Still surviving for Napoleon Never doubt He’s the one to raise us up again & we know it dont make no sense We’ve been robb’d of our innocence
Graingier & I know that that the road is hard But when you’re with the Old Guard You’ll never fade away & I know That a life’s austere For the Grenadier In his coat of grey
Drunken Cuirassier This is no cautionary tale For the vision must still prevail
***
Bourgogne passes his hand over his chest and other parts of his body / to his horror he discovers he was covered with lice
Bourgogne What the – lice – hundreds of them – all over
Bourgogne jumps up & strips off, throwing his shirt & trousers into the fire – They make a crackling like a brisk firing – Bourgogne shakes the rest of his clothes over the fire, then strips a corpse of trousers & shirt -moves away from the straw & sits on his knapsack, covered by his bearskin, his head in his hands in a state of dejection
***
Cuirassiers & Graingier Here we stand Making sounds in perfect unison Organ chimes as in Madame de Stael’s salon & we know that our lives might change & our fates’ never been so strange
Graingier & I know that that the road is hard But when you’re with the Old Guard You’ll never fade away & I know That a life’s austere For the Grenadier In his coat of grey
Drunken Cuirassier & then when our fate intends We’ll be seeking the recompense
Enter Vasalisa, Angelina, Albina, Vladamir & Vitaly
Vasalisa This clearing is as good as any space To build a base from whence to pounce upon The straggling French bestruggl’d from Smolensk
Natasha Angelina, you’ve been crying, what for?
Albina Mother, what is it?
Angelina It is nothing, well… I’d hoped to hear my husband’s voice today I miss you father dearly but am proud To know he fights the French, I heard him take The sacred oath upon that mountain height To never see our faces’ light until Napoleon defeated & expung’d From Russia on the spirit of vengeance
***
MY HANDSOME HUSBAND
Angelina Well my husband is off to the war O when is it going to end I miss him each day more & more He’s my family, lover & friend
& the way that he looks in the morning When he wakes with a wink & a smile Makes me bless how my wonderful fortune Shares his talents, his beauty, his style
My husband’s so champion warlike Outstanding he fights in the field But when he’s asleep in the dawn light All my worryful weepings are heal’d
Then the way that he looks in the morning When he wakes with a wink & a smile Makes me bless how my wonderful Husband Offers talents & beauty & style
Well my husband’s so splendidly handsome As far as my travels can see There are multiple men in the country But none are as handsome as he
***
Vitaly Such love for the fatherland’s warriors Empowers the souls & hands to noble feats
Vladamir & from those feats our triumph shall prevail, The French have been belittled in battles The fox escapes across the barren land Abandoning swords & encampments, flies Thro’ slain brothers blood, painting ghastly sights, As all around the woods & mountains shout ‘O victory to Rus, O victory To the terryifying might of old Rus.’
***
Enter Natasha & Valentina, hurriedly
Natasha Be quiet everybody, still your sound
Valentina Two French officers approach us alone
Vasalisa Hide yourselves as salt’s secret of the seas
The Partisans hide in the undergrowth – enter Vachain & Bodet
Vachain What is this special enigma, Colonel Which lures us deep into this creaking wood Is it some wild pretence
Bodet This is quite real As we are both noble officers, sir, We will share the best table, in this case A genuine bottle of best vodka From the Tsar’s very own cellar
Vachain My God
Bodet I shall go first, as deem’d by higher rank
Vachain I defer to that & your gratitude
Bodet {drinking} My word, there is the fire, first it burns throat Then belly, how it feels to feel alive! Here you are my man – prepare for fierce flame
Vachain drinks with splutters & coughs / Bodet laughs
Vachain That is a mighty blast, no vulgo draught For one raw moment lends me forgetting, From being the most affected ever At the loss of the effectivity Of our once supreme sword, how our famous Columns made now disorder’d, prideless mass We fools who purchas’d our own mockery, Who were called all sides ‘Indestructables,’ Who swept all Europe before us, broken Into myriad ruthless parts, striving To lives preserve at anyworth expense.
Bodet So many miseries have crazed my voice This breakdown of order is challenging Made thrice as complicated by the theft & plundering of clothing thro’ all ranks Confusing insignias meaningless Rather than attempting to discover True ranks, comrogean soldiers assume True officers really enlisted men & flagrantly refused orders obey’d
Vachain Such things are the current of time’s river Which carries to oblivion our deeds Unfeasible to stem its always flow & think of desolation’s fate uncheck’d If I were to die on this faithless march My memories shall drift into the snow, With last breath-whisps, of twenty great battles Thro’ ten years service with the Emperor
Bodet Napoloen! He does not give a damn Soldiers supraconstantly collapsing Upon the road, dismiss’d without a glance For the sick & dying offers only Unstricken unsentimentality.
Vachain So long has Fortune shower’d her favours He barely believes she deserts him now & blunders under constant delusion Proven amply by fatal insistence That every little thing be brought away To clog the roads, then lost are in the end
Bodet The end – what will that be for you & I When some are murder’d for a pinch of bread & who shall mourn us here – coldbloodedly Upon pale, lamenting faces I peer, This awful war’s dismembrator’d faces, The wounded, frozen, burn’d – only to turn Away & think of other trinket things From all the sad finales I have seen The worst are those who freeze before a fire Takes hold & gives out heat, but I have slept Upon these poor, unfortunate pillows Too often – enough, let us quaff some more
Bodet drinks & hands the bottle to Vachain
Vachain So bitter – refuses to taste better
Bodet Oh lord, look, Captain Vachain, look upwards Thro’ clearing tops upon a starry sky
Vachain A hard frost, Colonel,
Bodet Yes, that might be so But now is the night’s tremendous disport Flaring stars, vanishing stars, stars trembling Star on stars on stars, busy whispering Gladsome mysteries to one another
Vachain When gazing on the stars & crystal spheres From myself I remove myself, become A portion of all that passes about me Stirring feelings of the infinite felt In solitude, where we are least alone
Bodet This vodka works well, you speak poetry
Vachain I do? Then let us drink some more
Bodet drinks then passes Vachain the bottle
Bodet Drink deep
Vachain drinks
Vachain Still no better, what ingredient does Russia inject into this burning wine
Enter Vasalisa
Vasalisa It is a symphony to savour, made From potatoes, fermented, then distill’d
Bodet Who are you woman, what is your business?
Vasalisa I am Vasalisa Kharzina Of the partisan army of the Tsar A savage disease needs a savage cure & leaves befallen from a wither’d tree Up scoop, you two my captives on parole & these, these are my country warriors
Enter the partisans, armed – Bodel & Vachain draw their swords
Albina Put down your swords or we will shoot you dead
Vasalisa What use are you to anyone that way, Your roubles’ worth quadruples when alive
Bodet & Vachain drop their swords – they are search’d for more weapons – Vitaly drinks the vodka
Vitaly It is vodka – it is good
Vladamir Let me try
Vladmir drinks the vodka
Angelina Give me a drop Vitaly {Angelina drinks the vodka} That is good Where did you get this from – it is Russian Who made it murder’d somewhere in these lands
Bodet I found it deep in the Kremlin’s cellars
Angelina Found it, stole it, no matter, have a drink
Vasalisa drinks
Vasalisa The good stuff – Let us dissappear from here These French are of the Guard, & will send out No doubt, seach parties, you two , follow us If refusing you’ll be shot, understand?
Bodet We understand
Vasalisa My partisans, depart
Exeunt
SCENE 4: Another Forest Clearing
Bourgogne is alone & struggling through the bad weather. Dead bodies line the road. The ground is covered as far as the eye can see with helmets, shakos, swords, cuirasses, broken chests, empty portmanteaus, bits of torn clothing, saddles & costly schabraques / he reaches a cart
Bourgogne I curse the snow which hides the azure sphere & makes an entire army dissappear It seems as if broad heaven joins the earth Immelding snowflakes dragging heavy girth We march without thought, lost & unsteady, Where whirlwinds of sleet dreadfully eddy & swarm-drifted snow heap’d up collected Chasms shyly conceal unexpected Ingulphing the weakest, whom no more rise Weak & confounded compounded by sighs & if standing still we hammer thro the blast That whips up wild snow, & won’t let us past With obstinate fury blocking our way Freezing our clothes with a knife-icy spray Stiffening tremble-limbs, chattering teeth, Flat falling in snow the only relief But only for brief, the skies leaden flight Buries them in a sepulcher of white, See how the road to Poland undulates! Intrepids apathetic to their fates Hurry by with eyes elsewhere averted Earth in one vast winding-sheet beshirted! Dullblank expanse, where only pines emerge A few gloomy funereals averge Endless universal desolation, Where life is but a silly esperance, Sends instincts pressing self-preservation Cross-paths down, searching friendly farms, but meet Screeching Cossacks, peasants gadling in arms, Who surround us, wound us, strip us to the skin & leave us expiring with incisive grin I curse this snow which fills up the traces Of columns gone before me, just spaces Of silence, this immense cemetery That seperates us insalutary Brings tears to me not shed since I was child, Now who is this strange creature quite defiled
A wounded French soldier, wrapped in a great fur-lined cloak, crawls on the floor to Bourgogne
Bourgogne Soldier, what is your name? Your regiment?
The soldier says nothing, then collapses & dies – Bourgogne goes to see if he is alive when an arm from a second soldier led on the floor, grabs him by the legs
Soldier Stop! help me! Don’t you know, please don’t forget! {a maniacal laugh} Marie, Marie, give me food, I’m dying {he tries to throw off his coat}
Bourgogne Stop that, please, you’ll surely die without it Come on, stand up, I will help your comrade
As Bourgogne tires to lift the soldier by the arm he notices that he wears officer epaulettes
Bourgogne Ah, you are an officer, what rank, sir & regiment
Soldier The regiment needs me To organise reviews, bolster morale & perfect parades, let us go at once
The soldier gets up to rise but falls on one side with his face in the snow – Bourgogne passes his hand over the soldier’s face & finds there is no sign of life – Bourgogne finds a few fragments of wood & with great difficulty gets them alight – very soon flames crackle up into quite a large fire – he collects a number of schabraques to sit on, and wrapping in his bearskin cape, with his back against the waggon, arranges himself for the night – a Cossack on all fours crawls into the camp – Bourgogne notices, draws his sword & starts to advance – on reaching the Cossack he points his sword in his back
Bourgogne Are you bear or a man, growl or answer…
The Cossack looks up – he has a long beard which along with his his thick hair is red and thick – his shoulders are of Herculean proportions
Bourgogne You are Cossack!
The Cossack throw himself down in supplication, trying to kiss Bourgogne’s feet
The Cossack kneels upright & is so tall his head reaches Bourgogne’s shoulders – he shows him a fightful sword-cut he had had on his face. Bourgogne signs the Cossack to come near the fire; the Cossack reveals a ball wound to the stomach then turns on his side to writh & wail in pain, & grind his teeth – Bourgogne settles down by the fire
Bourgogne I would normally aid your pain’s relief But am so numb to suffering your wails Run like water on my ears, like my words On yours, my Cossack foe, what is that noise Ah – they are trumpets somewhere in the field Too far away to find them, & this fire So mindful of my life, for what it is
With a huge groan Picart emerges from the waggon, holding up the top of the waggon with one hand, and having a drawn sword in the other – Bourgogne draws his sword – Picart is trying, without success, to unfasten the great white cloak it wore with the hand which held the sword, as the other was engaged in holding up the top of the waggon
Bourgogne Are you a Frenchman?
Picart Yes, of course I am! What a damn’d silly question! There you stand Like a church candle! You see what a fix I am in, why have you not attempted To help me out of this coffin. I seem, My good fellow, to have frightened you white
Bourgogne You frighten’d me, yes, I thought you might be {pointing to the Cossack} Another of these noble beauties
Bourgogne helps Picart out of the waggon, who throws off his cloak
Bourgogne What angel or fiend throws us together I know now I am to make it back home To speak of this encounter in the snow With tactile ghost as clean & well as thee
Picart As clean & well as me! How gruff & rough Are you & thin to boot, veritable Robinson Crusoe of the Guard, so strange I scarcely know my friend, your alter’d mein So miserable – tell me by what luck Or misfortune do I find you alone In the woods with this villainous Cossack Just look at him! See his eyes! He’s been here Since yesterday, and then he disappeared, I cannot think at all why he’s come back, And also you, sergeant, why are you here
Bourgogne I am feverish on a lazy ledge I paus’d to rest a moment, else drop dead The company moved on & in an hour The tracks were completely cover’d by snow Three days I’ve been alone now in these woods Subkingdom of stravation & despair Have you a bit of something I can eat
Picart I have a little biscuit if you care
Picart opens his knapsack and draws out a piece of biscuit the size of his hand, which Bourgogne devours at once
Bourgogne O what medicine rests in firm friendship I haven’t tasted bread since October Twenty seventh – this is heaven to taste But have you any brandy?
Picart No, mon pays
Bourgogne I thought I smelt something rather like it
Picart You are right! Yesterday, when we pillag’d This waggon there was a brandy bottle The source of a detestable quarrel Which sharded glass & snow-wards hard stuff spill’d,
Bourgogne I should like to see the place where it happened
Picart Behind the back right wheel snow turns golden gold There was the scuffle & your nectar find
Bourgogne goes to the wagon, picks up a clump of snow & holds it up to check
Bourgogne The water of life, frozen in a ball We’ll melt it in a pan & get quite drunk
Picart I never thought of doing that, we shall Surely be drunk, several bottles worth Were smash’d in ugly distraughtation {Bourgogne puts snow in the pan – it begins to melt} An alchemist, alcohol alchemy
Bourgogne Just flames & a pan, no sorcery here
Picart You are a great magician all the same
Bourgogne Do you remember the day of Eylau When we were stood on the right of the church?’
Picart Of course, we had weather just like to-day
Bourgogne I have good reason to remember it, A brutal Russian bullet carried off My saucepan. Have you forgotten it,
Picart No Certainly not, no more than the far heads Of Gregoire and Lemoine it swept off too
Bourgogne How the devil do you recall their names?
Picart I cannot forget them, they were both good friends
Bourgogne That day I had haricots in the pan With a little biscuit
Picart I remember They ended up splashed all over us both
Bourgogne {drinking} Great God! what a day that was!’ Drink, my friend, this liquid asterism
Picart {drinking} I curse the God of Russia & the Conscript
Bourgogne Conscript?
Picart Our emperor is nothing but A regular fool to dally so long In Moscow, a fortnight was long enough To eat and drink everything we found there; But thirty-four days waiting for winter I call that folly & If he were here, I’d tell him as much to his regal face This is not the way to lead men, good God Plodding like the pen of a bad poet The dances he has led me sixteen years We suffered enough in Syrian sands They were nothing to these deserts of snow
Picart begins blowing on his hands
Bourgogne But who on earth would be our interrex Napoleon we need now more than ever
A bugle sounds in the distance
Picart What was that
Bourgogne That was a Russian bugle
Picart Are you sure
Bourgogne It’s rings unmistakable Haunt thro’ my dreams or wake me from those dreams
Picart It sound like the Horse-Grenadiers’ reveille To the air ‘Fillettes, auprès des amoureux Tenez bien votre serieux,’
Bourgogne Not so That would be most impossible, mon pays There has been not one first bugle or reveille For the last fortnight; our cavalry’s cull’d No, it is Russian – they will be here soon
Picart Very well, we had better put our arms In order, first of all my musket find I have never, ever lost it before Have carried it six years, all hours of night I’ll know it by mere touch – even the noise It makes in falling
Bourgogne There, beside that log Is that it?
Picart It is, good man
The Cossack starts rolling about in the snow in the most terrible sufferings, with his head almost in the fire
Picart Let us melt More of this precious snowbrandy, enough For a bottle each, then reach a safe spot
Bourgogne & what about our wounded bear
Picart I doubt He’ll live another hour, best leave him be
Bourgogne At least help him to die comfortably Pass me some schabraques
Picart & Bourgogne lay the cossack on some sheepskin schabraques
Picart He’ll not die just yet Look at his eyes: they shine like candle twins
The Cossack is placed sitting up, they holds by his arms / as soon as we let him go he fell down again, his face in the fire / they drag him out only just in time to prevent his being burnt – they lean him the other way
Bourgogne Now let us leave With rapid steps towards the setting sun Thro’ this silent and lonely old forest
Picart An idea has occurred to me, man You shall be the rear-guard, and I the van A double eagle, with two eyes in front & two behind espial, if we meet The foe, you load, allow me to engage To bring them down like fat ducks that they are
Bourgogne France is that way, mon pays, let us fly home, Swift-scurried like a hurried polatouche
In the main hall of the village, Nikolai the Cossack is counting money behind a desk – he is wearing a long coat lined with sheepskin & a fur cap – there is a quantity of military equipment on the floor including pistols, carbines, swords, cartridges, uniforms & hats – enter Vasalisa, Vitaly & Vladamir, Albina & Valentina with Bodet & Vachain
Nikolai Well, well, well, look at these happy hunters Inbringing two fine looking officers
Vasalisa Indeed we have, Nikolai, that will be One hundred & fifty for the Colonel Fifty for the Captain, is that correct?
Nikolai It is – have they been thoroughly disarm’d
Vasalisa They have
Nikolai & fed
Angelina A little bread & lard
Nikolai Good, good… officers of the Grand Armee I am the commander of the Cossacks In the area, please take this sauerkraut & beer at my behest, tho’ enemies We are all Adam’s sons, wormwood still grows Upon its own root, help yourselves, please do.
Bodet & Vachain ravenously fall on the food & drink
Bodet Better to be a heated prisoner & eating well, than freezing in freedom Feasting on finger’s flesh to break the fast
Nikolai So you think this is cold, this is nothing Wait until you reach wild Siberia Remote from all the pleasures of the world You will wish for this warm wintry weather
Vachain Siberia?
Nikolai Of course Siberia, Until the war is over, & well won By one emperor over another – Your own three months ago a giant oak That suffers today first strokes of an axe Hard held by all countries of Europa That stroke-by-stroke shall sever liberty From that black tree, daemonic Bonaparte, Acting a Genghis & Caligula He murders honest innocents & turns Our churches into stables, in a rage Of bloodshed, but tyranny is finite This contree is the sponge that sucks him dry Selected by god defender of truth Archangel Michael climbs thro’ Kutuzoff Moscow was sacrificed to save the world At Borodino you thought us beaten Then camp’d in the Kremlin like conquerors Battles won does not a conquest make Glorious deeds may turn indignitie The force deciding the fate of people Lies not with the charge of battalions But somewhere else, of quality sublime, In Vasalisa runs that current strong, When you are back in Paris tell your friends You were caught by a true Russian hero As long as Slavs are honour’d in this world Vasalisa’s vow shall be remember’d Driving invaders from a native soil Remember Vasalisa, & her name, Eternally miraculous it soars, Swift winds & thunder cannot knock it down Nor demoilsh’d be by the flight of time Syllables baffle death, escape decay To be recited Black Sea to the White
Vasalisa Such flattery will get you everywhere Do you have any vodka we can share Just you & I
Nikolai I do – its getting late {to Bodet & Vachain} Who is the higher rank
Bodet I am colonel
Nikolai Then you shall have the bed – he wil need guards
Vasalisa Albina, Vladamir, take up the task
Albina Yes mistress
Vladamir This way colonel, follow us
Exit Albina & Vladamir with Bodet
Nikolai &, you, what is your rank?
Vachain I am captain
Nikolai You shall remain in here, there is a couch To lie on if you wish to sleep
Bodet Thank-you
Vasalisa {pointing to Valentina & Vitaly} You two shall be his guards
Nikolai {taking the money} Then we are done & Vasalisa, stardust of my dreams We’ll get the hot flames blazing in my rooms
Exit Vasalisa & Nikolai
Vitaly Hey new girl… yes you… I am grown weary & sleep beside this fire, watch the captain As hawks would, wake me at trouble’s breaking
Valentina {to Vachain} You do not recognize me
Vachain Why, should I?
Valentina We have kiss’d
Vachain Kiss’d you! I would remember Gracing pair’d lips so beauteous & rare
Valentina Our lips have met, tho’ I was laughter drunk & you stood unimpress’d before the scene
Vachain Wait a moment – yes, you were in Moscow At the party
Valentina I chose to remain there There with my sister when the French march’d west
Vachain & now you are against us, why the change
Valentina I am Russian, your great liberator Napoleon, at first signs of struggle Abandon’d principles loudly proclaim’d Of freeing us from serfdom, then fled home Leaving us pandering eternally To the glory of our wonderful tsar
Vachain To watch you speak impresses of the worth Contain’d within the augurs of that kiss Scarce remembered but wish’d to be renew’d
Valentina You’d kiss again
Vachain I would, the want stirs deep
Valentina & Vachain kiss passionately
Vachain Tell me, what is your name
Valentina Valentina
Vachain Ah, Valentina, Valentine, love’s name Itself, you are a woman to be loved
Valentina You are not so unrosy yourself, sir
Vachain Sir! to call me sir when I am captive The captive captain, its assonance chimes Like spoken words we worldfolk sometimes rhyme & lovelier seem each in each entwin’d When in the weighted game of human love Two spirits sound in harmony, or clash Twyx poetry & base tongues guttural, The latter shoot on the coriolis While true loves fuse with chrysostomic kiss
Valentina Poetry
Vachain Yes, dear, sweet Valentina I felt a poet when our lips first met In spite of my inebriated mind My soul ascended mountains in a gust Of lust, of trust, & love in rarest robes & rushing out of doors to see the sun Set or rise, in your eyes I see that sun, Can we escape?
Valentina Escape!
Vachain Yes
Valentina Shh – quiet What do you mean
Vachain
Come live with me in France Nourishing each other on days of love & never sleeping winks for lovemaking Bedeck the hallow’d chamber of our bed With silent, bridal liveries of white Enshrouding kisses with cottontuft snow Forever, one love only, forever!
Valentina I shall do it
Vachain First unlooosen my bonds
Vitaly stirs in his sleep – Valentina unties the ropes – they embrace with a kiss – Vitaly sneaks to the weapons & deftly takes some guns & cartridges – Vitaly awakes
Vitaly What, what is it
Valentina Nothing Vitaly, sleep
Vachain Ready?
Valentina Yes
Vachain Lets go
Valentina Wait, no, my sister I cannot just leave without seeing her I must find her
Vachain But that is dangerous For you, for us, & most of all for her Better she lives in ignorance, than die Banded in damn’d collusion with the deed
Valentina Kiss me captain {they kiss} As lips conceal secrets The giving fibres of your very soul Sing to my own & woo her with the truth
Vachain We must leave now
Valentina Together
Vachain Together
Exit Vachain & Valentina
SCENE 6: The Russian Wastes
Picart & Bourgogne emerge out of the woods just as the advance elements of the army pass – those on foot drag themselves painfully along, almost all of them having their feet wrapp’d in rags or in bits of sheepskin, nearly all are dying of hunger
Picart Look, we were right to follow the sunset & appear to have emerg’d just ahead Of the army as they detour’d round the wood
Bourgogne The Emperor – he is there – look Picart
Picart It is him – I must upsmarten myself
Picart doffs his fur cap & takes off his white cloak, hanging it over his left arm – The Emperor passes next on foot, carrying a baton & wearing a large cloak lined with fur, a dark-red velvet cap with black fox fur on his head – Murat walks on foot at his right, on his left the Prince Eugène – Napoloen turns to look at Bourgogne & Picart briefly – Next comes Berthier, Caulaincourt & Gourgaud, followed by other officers and non-commissioned officers, walking in order and perfect silence, carrying the eagles of their different regiments
Picart Look at the eagles, each cover’d in snow White eagles, yes, white eagles soaring home
***
SOARING HOME
You’ve got to fly ye white eagles You’ve got to soar home over frozen snow You’ve got to fly, fly, fly, fly, fly ye white eagles You’re gonna soar home over frozen snow
You’re going home to the town where your love lies sleeping Where the bed is so warm & the fire it blazes for you You’ll be home with your family by this chistmas In the house where your memories best were form’d
***
come Next the Imperial Gaurd on foot – Picart gazes in silence, striking the ground with the butt of his musket, then his breast and forehead with his clenched hand. Great tears fall from his eyes, roll down his cheeks, and freeze in his moustache
Picart Am I awake or are my dreams claw-gorg’d By isolated devils in the dark, It breaks my heart to see our Emperor, Like lukewarm lava below volcano Clutching sacred caduceous on foot Holding that baton in his hand, so great, He who made us all so proud to know him.
Bourgogne My heart shares the break
Picart Did you not notice How he loook’d at us – he recognized me I saw it in the trembling of his eye
Bourgogne
He shall always be the great genius However miserable stands our plight For one thing I have clearly understood With him we are assured of victory, Wait – is that – yes – I surely recognize My company, well, or what’s left of it!
Enter Legrande, Leboude, Foucart, Rossi & Graingier – their feet & hands are frozen, most are without firarms, many lean on sticks; covered with cloaks and coats all torn and burnt, wrapped in bits of cloth, in sheepskin & rags – Foucart & Graingier support Rossi by each arm
Legrande Rest lads, the entire coloumn is halting Ease your limbs Old Gaurd, soon fades the respite
Bourgogne Legrande!
Legrande Hallo, poor Bourgogne! Is that you?
Leboude Bourgogne!
Foucart You are alive
Graingier We thought you dead Behind us, here you are alive in front!
Leboude This is first-rate, where on earth have you been
Bourgogne I was lost
Picart Until I found him
Foucart Picart, You old devil, you have done very well Delivering our comrade to his arms
Picart Speaking of comrades, I see mine behind Adrien – it has been an adventure
Bourgogne Until the next time, keep on surviving
Exit Picart
Bourgogne Seeing you all together, I shall not Leave you again my friends, except to die
Foucart Tell us how we became seperated
Bourgogne I rested with a fever for a while & in a flash of snow your tracks were wiped
Graingier A fever, were you ill?
Bourgogne Very much so & still am
Leboude You should have told us you fool For those who cannot follow help is there We are one family, we Grenadiers, We’ve help’d Rossi along for two days now Sharing his weight as if it was our own
Legrand The emperor!
Graingier What
Legrand Is coming to us
Bourgogne Soldiers of the Old Guard – stand attention
Enter Napoleon with King Murat and Prince Eugène.
Napoleon How are we faring today my children
Foucart Never better sire
Napoleon Hah – good! the Old Guard Is the heart of my army, this is why I stand among you here in clear address The Russians hard by the Berezhina Have sworn not one of us should cross the banks {Napoleon draws his sword & raises his voice} But when an army such as ours contends Against the worst misfortune could obtain What sublime courage capable becomes Convented in each for the cause of seeing France again, better to fight In battle side-by-side than to accept We’ll never feel sophisticates again
The soldiers erupt in shouts & cheers of Vive l’Empereur!’ – bearskins and caps are waved at the points of bayonets, and shouts
SCENE 7: Borisow
Napoleon is in council with Bertheir, Eugene, Caulaincourt & Prince Emile – Enter Murat
Murat Apologies, sire, for my tardiness We had a sharp encounter with Cossacks
Napoleon Yes, yes, successful I hope
Murat It was sire
Napoleon Good, every positivity bodes well But there is a drastical negative The Russians have burn’d the one bridge for miles & keep us penn’d up between two forests In the middle of a marsh, Caulaincourt
Caulaincourt The situation is very grave; sire Any detour would take up many days Of forced hard marches to Gloubokoje Or Vileika
Murat Then let us force our way Thro,’ & beyond, the Berezhinan marsh
Napoleon Indeed, but if my senior leaders Set proper examples, we will succeed, I am still stronger than the enemy, & can quite afford to disregard Each Russian gun that dares stand in our way
Berthier How do we cross the river, sire
Napoleon With thought
Prince Emile My thoughts are for a powerful balloon
Napoleon What for?
Prince Emile To carry Your Majesty home
Napoleon Good God! I am not afraid of battle I have acted Emperor long enough It is time to act the old general The passage of this river shall take place Tomorrow morning
Berthier But how
Napoleon Caulaincourt
Caulainocurt I’m inclined to think not, at least as far As rivers are concerned
Napoleon But did not Ney Cross the Dnieper over sheets of ice, When it was not so cold as is today?
Caulaincourt I would not risk it
Enter Gourgaud
Gourgaud Your serene highness, I have promising news
Napoleon Is there a ford
Gourgaud Yes, sire, at Studianka
Napoleon Occupied?
Gourgaud A small detachment, but we drove them off With cannon, & then forded the waters About three & one half deep, but rising
Napoleon Could we construct a pontoon at the site
Gourgaud I would say yes, sire
Napoleon Berthier, my horse & Murat too, we shall ride there together & take a look ourselves, in the meantime Make feints on Ukholoda and Stakow
Berthier Yes sire!
Napoleon Dismissing attendant dangers Innovating well, & excuting, We shall use every endeavour To build the bridge, it cross by morrow’s eve, Whn once we’ve gain’d the other bank in strength The passage of the army will commence
The Conchordia Folio 
