LITMIR.BIZ

      LORD

       My wig, ma'am, no! 'Twas a much younger man.

      GENTLEMAN

       But let me call him! Monstrous silly this,

       That don't know my friends!

       [They look around. The gentleman goes among the surging and

       babbling guests, makes inquiries, and returns with a perplexed

       look.]

      GENTLEMAN

       They tell me, sure,

       That he's not here to-night!

      MINISTER

       I can well swear

       It was not Norton.—'Twas some lively buck,

       Who chose to put himself in masquerade

       And enter for a whim. I'll tell our host.

       —Meantime the absurdity of his report

       Is more than manifested. How knows he

       The plans of Bonaparte by lightning-flight,

       Before another man in England knows?

      LADY

       Something uncanny's in it all, if true.

       Good Lord, the thought gives me a sudden sweat,

       That fairly makes my linen stick to me!

      MINISTER

       Ha-ha! 'Tis excellent. But we'll find out

       Who this impostor was.

       [They disperse, look furtively for the stranger, and speak of

       the incident to others of the crowded company.]

      SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

       Now let us vision onward, till we sight

       Famed Milan's aisles of marble, sun-alight,

       And there behold, unbid, the Coronation-rite.

       [The confused tongues of the assembly waste away into distance,

       till they are heard but as the babblings of the sea from a

       high cliff, the scene becoming small and indistinct therewith.

       This passes into silence, and the whole disappears.]

      SCENE VI

       MILAN. THE CATHEDRAL

       [The interior of the building on a sunny May day.

       The walls, arched, and columns are draped in silk fringed with

       gold. A gilded throne stand in front of the High Altar. A

       closely packed assemblage, attired in every variety of rich

       fabric and fashion, waits in breathless expectation.]

      DUMB SHOW

       From a private corridor leading to a door in the aisle the EMPRESS

       JOSEPHINE enters, in a shining costume, and diamonds that collect

       rainbow-colours from the sunlight piercing the clerestory windows.

       She is preceded by PRINCESS ELIZA, and surrounded by her ladies.

       A pause follows, and then comes the procession of the EMPEROR,

       consisting of hussars, heralds, pages, aides-de-camp, presidents

       of institutions, officers of the state bearing the insignia of the

       Empire and of Italy, and seven ladies with offerings. The Emperor

       himself in royal robes, wearing the Imperial crown, and carrying the

       sceptre. He is followed my ministers and officials of the household.

       His gait is rather defiant than dignified, and a bluish pallor

       overspreads his face.

       He is met by the Cardinal Archbishop of CAPRARA and the clergy, who

       burn incense before him as he proceeds towards the throne. Rolling

       notes of music burn forth, and loud applause from the congregation.

      SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

       What is the creed that these rich rites disclose?

      SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

       A local cult, called Christianity,

       Which the wild dramas of the wheeling spheres

       Include, with divers other such, in dim

       Pathetical and brief parentheses,

       Beyond whose span, uninfluenced, unconcerned,

       The systems of the suns go sweeping on

       With all their many-mortaled planet train

       In mathematic roll unceasingly.

      SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

       I did not recognize it here, forsooth;

       Though in its early, lovingkindly days

       Of gracious purpose it was much to me.

      ARCHBISHOP [addressing Bonaparte]

       Sire, with that clemency and right goodwill

       Which beautify Imperial Majesty,

       You deigned acceptance of the homages

       That we the clergy and the Milanese

       Were proud to offer when your entrance here

       Streamed radiance on our ancient capital.

       Please, then, to consummate the boon to-day

       Beneath this holy roof, so soon to thrill

       With solemn strains and lifting harmonies

       Befitting such a coronation hour;

       And bend a tender fatherly regard

       On this assembly, now at one with me

       To supplicate the Author of All Good

       That He endow your most Imperial person

       With every Heavenly gift.

      [The procession advances, and the EMPEROR seats himself on the

       throne, with the banners and regalia of the Empire on his right,

       and those of Italy on his left hand. Shouts and triumphal music

       accompany the proceedings, after which Divine service commences.]

      SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

       Thus are the self-styled servants of the Highest

       Constrained by earthly duress to embrace

       Mighty imperiousness as it were choice,

       And hand the Italian sceptre unto one

       Who, with a saturnine, sour-humoured grin,

       Professed at first to flout antiquity,

       Scorn limp conventions, smile at mouldy thrones,

       And level dynasts down to journeymen!—

       Yet he, advancing swiftly on that track

       Whereby his active soul, fair Freedom's child

       Makes strange decline, now labours to achieve

       The thing it overthrew.

      SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

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