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The Action takes place in Pizzo, from 8 to 13 October, 1815
—Scene I—
The Square of Pizzo, October 8, 1815. A confusion of Italian houses, mostly single story. To the left, a statue of King Ferdinand. Four tortuous sloping streets lead into the square. At the back of the stage a great stairway hewn from granite runs down to the sea, which can be perceived very blue in the distance. At rise, the church bell rings, calling the faithful to Mass. The peasants leave their homes, men, women, and children, heading in groups, all on the same side, to the left of the stage, passing before the statue of King Ferdinand. They wear the costumes of Neapolitan fishermen. A rolling of drums echoes in the distance, followed by the indistinct voice of a public crier. One hears briefly parts of phrases such as, "Rebel", "Joachim"—"price on his head." Some peasants stop to listen. Soon a group forms.
PELLEGRINO: (orating in the midst of the group) Do you hear; it's the usurper who's got a price on it. Is he to be found in the country?
A PEASANT: Possibly. I went to Cosenza yesterday. All they were talking of was him. They said how he came from Corsica with an army. There were police everywhere. Captain Trenta Capelli arrived here yesterday evening. He slept at his uncle Mattei's. I saw him this morning.
ANOTHER PEASANT: Without doubt they're going to go fight again.
PELLEGRINO: If the usurper comes to Pizzo, I know someone who will settle his hash.
FIRST PEASANT: We will never be calm in this ragamuffin country.
A WOMAN: He is, it seems, a handsome man, King Joachim.
ANOTHER WOMAN: You didn't see him when he came here five years ago.
FRANCESCA: (approaching) You speak idly: he was a good king. In his times things were happy, and he wasn't proud to the poor of the world. Whoever wanted to could approach him, right Tavella?
TAVELLA: Indeed, it's true. I served in his guard. I was a sergeant. He spoke to me twice.
PELLEGRINO: Yes, but King Ferdinand is the real legitimate King. The other one is only a usurper imposed by the French.
FRANCESCA: A usurper who was better than the legitimate king.
YOUNG GIRL: (to FRANCESCA) As for you, we know quite well you would never speak ill of him. (to the others) She's in love.
FRANCESCA: (blushing) Oh!
YOUNG GIRL: Everyone knows quite well. Go on since he came to Pizzo, you've been unable to eat or drink.
PELLEGRINO: (to FRANCESCA) Well, if your lover returns—we'll cut his throat. (more laughter)
TAVELLA: Believe me, Pellegrino, if that should happen the best thing would be for everyone to stay at home. It's not for us poor devils to busy ourselves with kings. We always get skinned. I am older than you, and I've seen some revolutions. Let the storm pass. For the vanquished today may be the victor tomorrow. And then it's always the peasants who pay—
PELLEGRINO: Never mind; if Joachim returns to the throne there will be another war.
A WOMAN: War—Good Madonna! Yet another war!
TAVELLA: For sure. We don't want any more war.
FRANCESCA: That's not good for an old soldier like you to speak like that, Tavella.
A PEASANT: Shut up! We've had enough war. You're right Tavella.
ALL: It's true.—We've had enough of it.
WOMAN: As for me, I lost my husband in the war.
AN OLD PEASANT: And as for me, my only son.
FRANCESCA: Why did King Joachim make war?
PELLEGRINO: Does anyone know? For nothing, as always to imitate these Satanic French. He will be at it again, to find his Napoleon of ill luck.
A PEASANT: Down with war!
ALL: Yes, yes—down with war.
A CHILD: (to TAVELLA, and pointing to the sea) Look there, Father, look there. That big ship—and the small boat is approaching the shore.
TAVELLA: Where? By Jove it's true. Look, all of you. There are people disembarking.
(ALL turn towards the back of the stage looking in the direction of the large stairway.)
CHILD: Hold on—there they are—coming up.
(They appear at the top of the stairs, MURAT is in the lead, dressed in a blue suit adorned with gold at the neck, on his chest and his pockets. He is wearing pants of white cashmere, boots for riding, a belt through which is passed a brace of pistols; a hat braided with gold like his suit, decorated with white and whose cord is made of fourteen blazing diamonds. At the arrival of the small troop the peasants draw back bit by bit, manifesting signs of astonishment.)
FRANCESCA: (recognizing MURAT) Lord Jesus, it's him.
MURAT: (pointing out TAVELLA to CAMPANA who is behind him) By Jove, Luck favors us. Don't you recognize that man, Campana? It's a former sergeant of my Guard. (going straight to TAVELLA and setting his hand on his shoulder) Your name's Tavella?
TAVELLA: Yes. What do you want from me?
MURAT: Tavella, don't you recognize me? (TAVELLA remains mute) Tavella, I am Joachim Murat, your former general. The honor goes to you of being the first to shout 'Long Live, Joachim!'
(FRANCESCHETTI, CAMPANA and MURAT's partisans shout, "Long Live Joachim!" Murmurs amongst the peasants. Not one has responded to the shouting "Long Live Joachim!" PELLEGRINO sneaks out to the left.)
MURAT: Tavella, go find me a horse, and from being Sergeant, I will make you Captain. (TAVELLA moves away without answering. New, muffled murmurs amongst the peasants.)
GENERAL FRANCESCHETTI: (approaching) Sire, what must be done?
MURAT: Do you think that man will bring me a horse?
FRANCESCHETTI: Sire, I don't think so.
MURAT: In that case, let's go on foot to Monteleone.
CAMPANA: Sire, it would, perhaps, be more prudent to return to the shore.
MURAT: It's too late: the dice are already cast. Let my destiny be accomplished! To Monteleone.
SOLDIERS: To Monteleone! (MURAT and his partisans leave.)
(TRENTA CAPELLI: in the uniform of a Captain of Gendarmes and PELLEGRINO armed with a rifle enter.)
PELLEGRINO: Here, Captain: they've just left from here.
TRENTA CAPELLI Fine. (addressing the peasants) Friends, will you allow a conspirator to dirty the soil of the country? A usurper who brings you civil war?
PEASANTS: No, no.
TRENTA CAPELLI: You know there are a thousand crowns for whoever captures him. (Diverse murmurs. Shouts, "To arms!")
PEASANTS: To arms! To arms!(The peasants run to their houses and return almost immediately with their rifles and their cartridge pouches, which they hastily secure and fasten.) Let's run to pursue them. That way, Captain—they went that way.
TRENTA CAPELLI: Follow me.
PELLEGRINO: That's unnecessary. Here they are coming back.
(TRENTA CAPELLI, noticing MURAT, signals the peasants to remain behind. He advances alone and addresses MURAT)
TRENTA CAPELLI: Your retreat is cut off. We are thirty against one. Surrender and spare the shedding of blood.
MURAT: I have something better to offer you. Follow me—join with me: there are epaulettes of general for you, and for each of the men, fifty Napoleons.
TRENTA CAPELLI: What you propose to me is impossible; we are devoted to King Ferdinand—in life and death. You cannot doubt it. Not one of them responded to your shout of "Long Live Joachim!" did they? Listen. (raising his sword) "Long live Ferdinand!"
PEASANTS: Long Live Ferdinand!
MURAT: It will be as God wishes, but I will not surrender.
TRENTA CAPELLI: Then let the blood fall on those who shed it. (PELLEGRINO aims at MURAT)
MURAT: Step aside, Captain. You're preventing this man from aiming at me. (TRENTA CAPELLI rushes aside; the shot is fired but misses MURAT)
MURAT: (low to FRANCESCHETTI and CAMPANA) The game is lost. Let's try to get back to our ship. (The soldiers protect MURAT as they fall back to the stairway. Confusion.)
(The whole population runs in pursuit of MURAT shouting, "Death!" The stage empties and remains empty. Murmurs can be heard that ever increase. Then rifle shots. First spaced, then more. One feels that a real battle is taking place near the sea. Finally shouts of triumph succeed screams of death. Then one sees MURAT reappear surrounded by peasants who strike him, shouting at him. His suit is in shreds, his epaulettes have been torn off, his face is covered with blood. The entire population of Pizzo is stampeding into the royal quarry, women more enraged than the men. PELLEGRINO is seen amongst the most excited. TRENTA CAPELLI and the gendarmes make vain efforts to protect MURAT. FRANCESCA is alone on the side of the stage that remains empty. She falls to her knees.)
FRANCESCA: Holy Madonna, protect the King!
(MURAT is dragged before the statue of Ferdinand. There, the howling increases.)
CURTAIN
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—Scene II—
A room with walls whitewashed with lime, and covered with a multitude of images of Madonnas and Saints as found in most Italian homes. A wooden table and some straw chairs compose the furnishings. At the back, a low wooden, sculpted chest on which are placed small objects; an inkwell and sheets of paper. Above the chest a mirror hangs suspended. Door to the left. To the right an iron bed on which MURAT is stretched dressed in the uniform of a Neapolitan officer. He is sleeping restlessly. Little by little he wakes up.
MURAT: (waking up) Did I dream? It seems to me that I was sleeping deeply. Yes, indeed, it's a dream I just had: the dream of my entire life. Was this me I was seeing again just now? Me, the son of an innkeeper become a general, Marshall of the Empire, Prince, Grand Admiral, great eagle of the Legion of Honor, Grand Duke of Cleves and Berg—King, King and brother-in-law of Napoleon! Napoleon! Ah! Why did that thought come to assail me again? Why does it come to reproach me for having betrayed you, Napoleon, in my mad ambition to preserve this fallen throne that you let me pick up from the flap of your imperial mantle! Twice I compounded with your enemies; and that will be the remorse of my entire life. The only bad memory which raises itself before me—at the moment of my death. (discouraged) Come on, let's forget, if it can be forgotten. (dreaming again) Mondovi! Saint Georges! Marengo! Egypt and the sparkling Mamelukes! The Pyramids! Saint-Jean d'Acre! Aboukir! Jena! Eylau! Friedland! Oh beautiful battles, beautiful cavalry charges! Great blows with the sabre! Smolensk! Moscow! and everywhere the snow was falling, enveloping the army in a cold winding sheet. (taking his head in his hand and sighing) Alas! That I wasn't at Waterloo! Pardon, Napoleon, pardon, my brother. You, so good, so generous, so great. You that through my sin, they've nailed on that rocky desert so as to make an apotheosis of sorrows and tears for the most prodigious man that ever existed. (silence) How much glory and how much misery. And all this to terminate in the end like an adventurer, ignominiously shot by an unruly soldiery in the pay of some despot in the back of some low gully. Never mind: I will know how to die. They shall not be able to say that one who risked his life in a hundred battles feared death for a moment. Since I've been unable to recapture my kingdom; since I've lost, I will pay—that's all. (feverishly he walks back and forth for a few minutes, then comes to sit back down on the bed. The sound of steps can be heard.) There's my executioner. (standing proudly) Away with discouragement! We shall become King Joachim again. (the door opens and the CONCIERGE timidly approaches MURAT) What is it? What do they want with me?
CONCIERGE: Sire, these are the clothes Your Majesty ordered the day before yesterday. The tailor is here.
MURAT: That's fine; let him bring them. (the TAILOR enters) Ah, it's you. I thought you would never finish! This uniform weighs on me. (bitterly) A uniform with Ferdinand's colors. But they had put me in such a state. (the TAILOR unfolds the package he has bought. He extracts from it a dark blue coat, trimmed with rich brocades, of the same shade, but brighter than all the needlework. The vest is white, striped with amaranth, the pants of white cashmere, equally brocaded in gold.)
MURAT: (with satisfaction) Perfect! They couldn't have done better in Paris! (placing his arm into the sleeve, then the coat. Turns around, making an effort to twist) Not even a mirror to see oneself! Ah! that mirror. (looking at himself in the mirror—arranging the neck with his hand, then to the TAILOR) See, the neck is a bit high. But that will be good enough for a few days. Wait: here—there should also be a correction. But never mind. (with an air of nonchalance) For this once, I will put up with it.
TAILOR: Your Excellency is satisfied?
MURAT: (haughtily) Call me, Majesty. I am your king. (tossing him a purse) Pay yourself.
TAILOR: (stammering) Yes, Sire—pardon, Majesty. At your orders, Sire. (leaves, bowing to the ground.)
CONCIERGE: Does Your Majesty desire supper?
(MURAT gives a gesture of assent. The CONCIERGE brings in a cold chicken, bread, a bottle of wine etc.)
CONCIERGE: Does Your Majesty wish to receive General Nunziante?
MURAT: Let him enter. (starts eating) Leave us.
(The CONCIERGE leaves; MURAT is seated at the table eating; GENERAL NUNZIANTE enters.)
MURAT: It's you, General. Would you like to dine with me? I'm as hungry as an ogre. Damn! It's not a meal fit for a king that I am offering you. But Damn! War is war. There were days in my life as a soldier when I ate worse than today. That's agreed. Sit down
GENERAL: (sadly) I thank Your Majesty, but I've just had supper.
MURAT: Well, sit down all the same: we will chat, what the devil! I can't tell you what pleasure I have chatting with you. (The GENERAL sits but remains mute. MURAT, as he eats) Why, by Jove! What a face you're making. You have an irritating communication to make? Speak quickly, for the three days I've lived in this cursed room, I've received nothing but bad news. Aside from the chicken which is excellent and the good bath I took yesterday, thanks to you, I rarely find myself so ill. So you can speak in confidence I am prepared for it. (The GENERAL hesitates and stammers.) Well, well, you seem upset: Let's bet it's a dispatch from Ferdinand that you have to communicate to me?
GENERAL: Yes, Sire.
MURAT: Give it, give it quickly. (The GENERAL hands him a parchment) The Devil! a decree—an official one. (opens it, reads) Ferdinand, by the grace of God, etc. etc. Let's keep going—Ah, I am there. Having decreed and decree as follows: Article 1. General Murat will be tried by a military commission whose members will be selected by our Minister of War. Article 2. There will be granted to the condemned only a half hour to receive the comforts of religion—At least that's clear. It's quite simply my execution that this good brother has decreed. He so little doubts his judges that he has regulated the time that must elapse between my condemnation and my death. That's expeditious. And who are the members of this tribunal of assassins? (reading) The Crown Attorney La Camera, Lieutenant Francesco Frozo, Captain Strati, etc. (continuing to read, low) Better and better; admirable! Not even a general.
GENERAL: Sire, Captain Strati is here and desires to speak to Your Majesty. He asks to be admitted and waits for you to give the order. (MURAT rises and gives a sign that the CAPTAIN can enter.)
MURAT: (aside) Now I understand this General's embarrassment.
CAPTAIN STRATI: (approaching MURAT) General, I am charged with informing you of the directive of the trial commission. Here it is. The tribunal has just assembled at this very moment. My mission is to ask you if you will follow me to appear there.
MURAT: (with a smile on his lips) Never, sir, never! (scornfully, and little by little becoming animated) Go tell those improvised judges—your colleagues, that I do not recognize, and will never recognize a tribunal composed of simple officers. If they wish to treat me as a king, I must be judged by a tribunal of kings; if they wish to treat me as a Marshall of France, I demand a commission of Marshals. Finally, if they wish to treat me as a general and (bitterly) it seems to me I have some right to that, the least they can do is to assemble a jury of generals. For me to descend to the level of judges who've just been named, too many pages must be torn of the history of Europe. As for now, I refuse to recognize the legality of the tribunal which is imposed on me.
CAPTAIN STRATI: It's not given to me to reply to your questions, General; my duty was to communicate to you the order which is here: discipline requires me to do it, I've done it. I beg Your Excellency to willingly pardon me.
MURAT: (with animation) That's all right, sir, that's all right. Anyway, it's not on any of you that the odious crime you are committing will fall back on; it will fall back on Ferdinand who will have treated one of his brothers as he would treat a brigand. Tell the commission that it can proceed without me. I will not submit to the tribunal whatever happens, and if I am brought there by force, I swear to God that no human power will be able to make me break silence.
CAPTAIN STRATI: Your Excellency will at least be willing to give me his name, age, and place of birth?
MURAT: (haughtily) I am Joachim Napoleon, King of the Two Sicilies, born at Bastide-Fortuniere, in France and history will add: assassinated in Pizzo. Now that you know what you wished to know, I order you to leave.
(CAPTAIN STRATI bows and leaves.)
(MURAT strides up and down in prey to an unutterable exaltation. Little by little he softens and addresses the GENERAL.)
MURAT: Here's a dinner singularly interrupted. I let myself get a bit carried away, it's true—but you will admit it was caused by too much impudence.
GENERAL: Still, Sire—
MURAT: What, you too, General, you who I knew formerly, you that I even, and still do consider as a friend. You would advise me—? Never, you hear, never will I present myself to a tribunal of traitors and regicides. And no one in the world can make me reverse my determination.
(A silence.)
GENERAL: Your Majesty will permit me to retire?
MURAT: What, you are abandoning me? Why, no—I understand your thought. You want to go down there and bring me news as soon as you have any. Thanks, my friend, thanks. (He offers his hand; the GENERAL grasps it, bows and leaves.)
MURAT: (alone) It's finished; they are going to condemn me. That's certain, since they've been ordered to do it. Well, Murat, you will know how to die. (dreaming) Such a well planned expedition. Everything was ready. I had money, men. Why did it happen that chance brought me to throw myself into this little village. Everywhere else, I would have been acclaimed. And without that infamous Barbara who abandoned me in such a cowardly way, doubtless to steal the treasure that I had confided to him, I would have regained my ship. But it's always necessary to slip in a traitor somewhere to baffle the best laid plans. (with disgust) That's humanity. (Sits on his bed, a prey to his thoughts.)
(The door opens softly. The CONCIERGE appears—then he lets FRANCESCA enter.)
CONCIERGE: Go, my child, and may God permit you to succeed. (he leaves and locks the door. At that sound, MURAT raises his head.)
MURAT: What is it now? (noticing FRANCESCA with surprise) A young girl. (good naturedly) Approach, child.
FRANCESCA: (throwing herself on her knees before MURAT) Sire, sire, pardon my audacity—but it's for Your Majesty's good that I dare approach you.
MURAT: (rising) Speak child, I am listening to you.
FRANCESCA: Sire, my name is Francesca. I am the daughter of the man who guards this house. But weak woman though I am, I think that I could be useful to Your Majesty. Sire, my father is devoted to you; he's never dared to speak to you of our plans, and he's made me responsible for doing that. Sire, if you consent, and if it pleases God, tonight you will be free.
MURAT: (with an explosion of joy) Ah, there are still brave people on this earth!
FRANCESCA: Here's what Your Majesty must do. When everyone's gone to bed, when there's no one else around to watch except the sentinels who are guarding you, my father will bring me here as he just did. Let Your Majesty change clothes with me: no one will be suspicious seeing a woman leave. By shaving your whiskers, by carefully dissimulating your voice, by stooping slightly, they will take you for me. Once out of the prison, my father will escort you to the beach. There a boatman that we've won over will be waiting for you: you will get into his ship and you will reach Corsica without danger.
MURAT: (listens attentively; little by little his features become more somber as he speaks to the young girl) All this is very well contrived; but you, my child, do you know that it's death waiting for you?
FRANCESCA: I know it.
MURAT: Have you carefully considered?
FRANCESCA: I've carefully considered.
MURAT: Then why do you want to die? What have I done to inspire you with such self sacrifice?
FRANCESCA: (excitedly) Nothing, nothing, Sire—May Your Majesty pardon me!
MURAT: Still, it's a crime to want to die so young. Don't you love anybody then? (FRANCESCA shivers and makes a negative gesture) But your father? How can he authorize such a sacrifice?
FRANCESCA: My father once served under Your Majesty at the time you were winning so many battles. A simple soldier it is not surprising that Your Majesty didn't recognize him. He wasn't like Tavella who was a sergeant. At the crossing of the Beresina, when the bridge was collapsing under the weight of the army you were on the other shore and you extended your hand to a drowning man. You don't remember it, without doubt, Sire—you saved so many people that day! That man was my father; he owes you his life. Today it is I who will pay his debt, that's all.
MURAT: And you consented, my child?
FRANCESCA: Oh, me! alas! Sire, nothing attaches me to life. (with subdued passion) I will be so happy to save you. (MURAT gestures in astonishment) Sire, it was 5 years ago Your Majesty came to Pizzo. You came by the high road from Cosenza and the whole village was there to see you pass. That day, you see, Sire, has remained graven in my memory. You were in a fine uniform, quite resplendent with gold, surrounded by an escort of sparkling officers; the sky was blue with a beautiful sun, as if the weather wanted to celebrate you. Everyone shouted, Long Live the King! Long Live Joachim! and you were so handsome, so handsome on your big, black, prancing horse. Why you would have said an archangel had descended from paradise. Alas, all that happened so quickly! I am only a poor peasant girl, Sire, but the other day when I saw you beaten, mistreated, torn apart by those same people who formerly acclaimed you, when I learned they intended to shoot you, I thought that Your Majesty would not reject me, and I came, naturally, to put myself at your service: very happy, if necessary to give my life and liberty for that of my King.
MURAT: Nice, little one, nice.
FRANCESCA: (begging, almost wheedling) So you accept! You really want to, speak?
MURAT: Certainly not; I refuse. (aside) It shall not be said that a child paid with her head the ransom of my life.
FRANCESCA: (throwing herself at his feet) Sire, from pity, from pity, permit me to save you. (MURAT tries to raise her but she clings desperately to him. In anguish, losing her head) I don't want it! I don't want for you to die!
MURAT: (appears very surprised by this insistence; he seems to meditate for a moment while FRANCESCA, breathlessly awaits his reply) Well, so be it, I accept. (aside) There will still be time to undeceive her. (aloud) Tonight, I will be ready. (raising her up, with kindness) Well?—are you satisfied?
FRANCESCA: (passionately) Thanks, thanks, my King.
MURAT: Until this evening. (stopping her as she heads toward the door) What? Are you running off like that? Now, you'd say I frighten you. At least before leaving me, you will allow me to embrace you, child.
FRANCESCA: (radiant, stammering) Sire—sire. (she offers him her face on which MURAT plants a kiss.) That kiss, Sire will remain always graven here and here. (pointing in exaltation to her face and her heart. At the door she says to her father who comes to open for her—with an explosion of joy) He accepts, father, he accepts! (she leaves)
MURAT: Dear child—Generous heart! Rare soul. Ah, that makes up for so much shame. (pulling from his pocket a watch studded with gems on its lid a miniature of the Queen. He kisses it longingly) Soon, three o'clock. What are my judges doing? It seems to be a lengthy deliberation. (as he returns his watch to his pocket his eyes rest on the portrait of the Queen) Dear wife! How it really resembles you! (sighing) Here, perhaps, are the only two sincere affections that I've had in my life. My beloved Caroline and this little girl who left me. (dries a tear) Caroline! my Caroline! I want to address a last goodbye to you before dying. (takes ink and paper on the chest at the back of the stage, places it on a corner of the table which hasn't even been cleaned up and starts to write. When he finishes the letter, he reads aloud) Dear Caroline of my heart; The fatal hour has come. I am going to die. The extreme penalty. In a few hours you will no longer have a spouse and our children will no longer have a father; remember me and don't ever forget my memory. I am dying innocent and my life is being taken by an unjust judgment. Goodbye, my Achilles, goodbye my dear Suzanne, goodbye my Lucien, goodbye my Louise. Show yourselves worthy of me; I am leaving you a land and a kingdom full of my enemies. Show yourselves superior to adversity and remember not to believe yourself more than you are when thinking of what you have been. Goodbye, I bless you. Never curse my memory. Remember that the greatest sorrow I am experiencing in my sacrifice is that I am dying far from my children, far from my wife, and not having any friend to shut my eyes. Goodbye, my Caroline, Goodbye, My children, receive my paternal benediction, my tender caresses, and my last kisses. Goodbye, goodbye, and never forget your wretched father. (two large tears roll down the length of MURAT's cheeks. Someone knocks discreetly at the door. MURAT dries his tears and resumes a calm face) Come in! (GENERAL NUNZIANTE enters. MURAT goes to him excitedly) Well, what General? (The GENERAL silently lowers his head) Death, right? (The GENERAL makes an affirmative gesture. Proudly) I was expecting it.
GENERAL: Here's the Crown Attorney who will give you a report of his mission.
(The Crown Attorney, LA CAMERA enters, holding The Commission's judgment in his hand.)
MURAT: Read, sir, I am listening to you.
LA CAMERA: (reading) "The Military Commission—convened at 10 o'clock on the morning of the 13th day of this month of October, 1815, in the Castle of Pizzo to Judge the French General Joachim Murat—"
MURAT: (haughtily) Say, King, sir—
LA CAMERA: (continuing) "Considering the reading of the laws, the examination of the witnesses, and the result of the discussion have given rise to establish that Murat attempted to destroy the government, to incite the citizens to take up arms against the King and the public order, to introduce a revolt into the Commune of Pizzo, and to extend it throughout the realm—which constitutes him culpable of an outrage against the internal security of the state and public enemy—Considering, that that these outrages were foreseen by articles 87 and 94 of the penal code—"
MURAT: Why, that law—it was I who made it!
LA CAMERA: "The Commission has decided unanimously that the provisions of these articles are applicable to Joachim Murat. From these considerations and with the same unanimity has condemned him and does condemn him to the penalty of death with confiscation of his property. IT IS ORDERED: That the present judgment shall be executed diligently by the reporter, PRONOUNCED at 2 o'clock in the afternoon on the said day, month and year above."
MURAT: (rising and addressing LA CAMERA) Is that all, sir?
LA CAMERA: General, I hope that you will die without any feeling of animosity against us, and that you do not exempt yourself from the law that you yourself made.
MURAT: Sir, I made that law for brigands and not for crowned heads.
LA CAMERA: The law is equal for all, sir.
MURAT: That may be, when it is useful to certain people; but whoever has been a King, bears with him a sacred character which would require one to think twice before treating him as just anybody. I honored King Ferdinand by thinking he would not shoot me like a criminal. I was mistaken; so much the worse for him; Let's not discuss it any further. As for wishing you ill, I don't hold it any more against you than a common soldier who, in the midst of a skirmish, having received from his leader the order to fire at me, sends a bullet through my body. Go, sir—and may God keep you in his holy and worthy care. (MURAT pronounces these last words, smiling. As soon as the Crown Attorney leaves, he approaches GENERAL NUNZIANTE.) General, I have a great service to ask of you. Here's a letter addressed to my beloved wife, Queen Caroline. Give me your word that this letter will be delivered. Ah, and then (playfully) there's a child here, a young girl who interests me. She's the daughter of the guard of this house; her name's Francesca, I think; here's a ring I desire to leave her as a memory of my captivity. Do you promise me, general, that this ring will be delivered to this child, and my letter to my wife?
GENERAL: (turning away to hide his emotion) I swear it to you.
MURAT: (patting him on the shoulder) Well, well, general! What's this? What the devil! We are both soldiers—we've looked death in the face. I am going to see it again, that's all, and this time it will come at my directive, which is not always the case. For I hope they will allow me to order the firing, won't they? (The GENERAL nods his head.)
MURAT: Now, general. What time is set for my execution?
GENERAL: Sire, designate it yourself.
MURAT: I don't intend to make you wait.
GENERAL: I hope you don't think that's the motive—
MURAT: Come on, General, I am joking. (pulls out his watch, looks at the portrait of Queen Caroline, then hands it to the GENERAL.) Look, General. How it resembles the Queen. (ready to put it back in his pocket.) Ah! Pardon, I was forgetting the principal thing. It is past three; it will be for four o'clock, if you like. Fifty five minutes is too much?
GENERAL: That's fine, Sire. (starts to leave)
MURAT: Will I not see you again?
GENERAL: My instructions are that I will be present at your execution; but I don't know if I have the strength.
MURAT: That's fine, that's fine, child that you are. (GENERAL NUNZIANTE rushes towards the door, ready to burst into tears. He bumps into a priest, DON ANTONIO DE MASAIDA. A tall old man with a respectable face, grave demeanor and simple manners. MURAT notices the priest.) What does this man want with me? Does he think I have need of his exhortations, and that I don't know how to die?
GENERAL: He asks to enter, Sire.
MURAT: Well—let him enter! (GENERAL NUNZIANTE leaves.) Now, what do you want! I'm going to be shot in three quarters of an hour and I have no time to waste.
PRIEST: Sire, I'm coming to ask if you wish to die as a Christian?
MURAT: I will die as a soldier. (The PRIEST doesn't budge.) Didn't you hear me, father?
PRIEST: You didn't receive me this way the first time you saw me, Sire. It's true that in those days you were King and I came to ask you a favor.
MURAT: Indeed. Your face is not unfamiliar to me. Where then have I seen you?
PRIEST: Right here, Sire. When you came to Pizzo in 1810; I asked you for assistance in completing our church: twenty-five thousand francs; you gave me forty thousand.
MURAT: (smiling) That's because I foresaw I would be buried there.
PRIEST: Well, Sire, will you refuse an old man the last request he asks of you.
MURAT: Which is?
PRIEST: That of dying like a Christian.
MURAT: You want me to confess: in the past I disobeyed my father who didn't want me to be a soldier. That's the only thing I repent of. The rest concerns only myself.
PRIEST: But, Sire, would you give me a testimonial that you are dying in the Catholic faith?
MURAT: Oh—without difficulty. (sits down and scribbles a letter which he reads aloud.) I, Joachim Murat, die as a Christian believing in the Holy Roman Catholic Apostolic Church. (gives the letter to the PRIEST. After seeming to hesitate) Father, your blessing.
PRIEST: With all my heart. (places his hands on MURAT's head bowed head; murmuring like a priest.)
MURAT: Goodbye, Father.
PRIEST: Goodbye, my son. (The PRIEST leaves.)
MURAT: (alone) That man made me lose precious time. Forty minutes remain. That's hardly sufficient to make oneself handsome for death. (puts on his clothes, goes to the mirror and begins smoothing his hair.)
CURTAIN
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—Scene III—
A courtyard. On the left a straight staircase between two walls that forms a sort of hollow on the stage. At the back of the stage, the wall of a house, adjoining to the right the prison of the condemned petty criminals. In the middle of the prison a latticed window closed with large iron bars. Through the bars appear the heads of the curious. These are the prisoners who press themselves, attracted by the unusual noises of preparations, uneasy about what is going to take place. Beneath the window a squad of six infantrymen commanded by a lieutenant with a drummer.
At rise, a roll of drums. A silence. A low door piercing the wall of the house facing the audience opens. MURAT comes out followed by GENERAL NUNZIANTE. Quarter after four strikes. MURAT is garbed in the outfit brought by the TAILOR in Scene II. His head is naked; his dark hair carefully parted over his face. One can guess that much of the time that remained to him has been spent on his toilet.
MURAT: (in the doorway, addressing GENERAL NUNZIANTE) General, you're late. (At MURAT's entry an uproar behind the prisoners window.)
PRISONERS: It's King Joachim? Are they going to shoot him? Move aside a bit so I can see. Yie! You're hurting me. It's really him! I recognize him. Don't push so hard, you're squashing me. (at the uproar, the Lieutenant who commands the firing squad looks up.)
LIEUTENANT: Shut up! Goddamnit!
(The uproar stops, persisting in murmurs which last throughout the entire scene. MURAT advances with a firm step; then taking a theatrical pose which he affects, stands boldly in front of the soldiers.)
MURAT: (to the soldiers in a firm voice) My friends, the court is straight enough for you to fire accurately. Aim for the chest, spare my face. (turning towards the GENERAL) Goodbye, General—and thanks for all you have done for me.
(GENERAL NUNZIANTE, overwhelmed by emotion cannot find a word to say, and kisses MURAT's hands which he abandons to him.)
MURAT: (calmly, without rushing, goes to place himself in the hollow formed by the stairway, then mounting the steps, he addresses the soldiers anew) My friends—
(New exclamations by the prisoners behind the window.)
PRISONERS: How handsome he is! That's because he's not afraid! He's less pale than the general. Shut up! Listen to him.
LIEUTENANT: Goddamnit! will you shut up! (turning to MURAT) Swine, General, condemned to prison.
MURAT: (with kindness) Let them look; since they want to see. But I recognize them. I was locked up with them the day of my arrest. Poor Devils! I believe they remember me because I left them some money.
PRISONERS: It's true, it's true. I still have a gold piece.
MURAT: Well! Silence I beg you. This won't be long and later you can tell how you saw a King die! (the uproar ceases. To the soldiers in a thrilling voice) Platoon! Arms! Aim! Fire!
(Three shots only are fired; one after the other. MURAT remains standing impassively. Not a muscle in his face has budged. GENERAL NUNZIANTE and the LIEUTENANT look at each other in consternation. Murmurs in the prisoners cell.)
MURAT: (to soldiers) Thanks, comrades. But that's useless. Let's start over again, and no mercy, I beg you.
(At this moment FRANCESCA appears at the top of the stairs.)
FRANCESCA: My God! My God!
MURAT: (in a tone of command) Load in double time. Load your weapons. Aim! Fire!
(Firing. MURAT rolls face to the ground.)
FRANCESCA: Oh! The cowards! The cowards. (she faints)
LIEUTENANT: Port Arms! Shoulder Arms! By the right flank! March!
(The Curtain falls slowly as the soldiers execute the LIEUTENANT's commands, and as GENERAL NUNZIANTE heads towards MURAT's cadaver.)
CURTAIN
—The End—
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