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diff --git a/4043-0.txt b/4043-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..229adae --- /dev/null +++ b/4043-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,30842 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Dynasts, by Thomas Hardy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Dynasts + An Epic-Drama Of The War With Napoleon, In Three Parts, Nineteen Acts, + And One Hundred And Thirty Scenes + +Author: Thomas Hardy + +Release Date: October 19, 2001 [eBook #4043] +[Most recently updated: November 6, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Douglas Levy and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DYNASTS *** + + + + +THE DYNASTS + +By Thomas Hardy + + +AN EPIC-DRAMA OF THE WAR WITH NAPOLEON, + + IN THREE PARTS, NINETEEN ACTS, AND + + ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY SCENES + + +The Time covered by the Action being about ten Years + + + + “And I heard sounds of insult, shame, and wrong, + And trumpets blown for wars.” + + + + +PREFACE + + +The Spectacle here presented in the likeness of a Drama is concerned +with the Great Historical Calamity, or Clash of Peoples, artificially +brought about some hundred years ago. + +The choice of such a subject was mainly due to three accidents of +locality. It chanced that the writer was familiar with a part of +England that lay within hail of the watering-place in which King +George the Third had his favourite summer residence during the war +with the first Napoleon, and where he was visited by ministers and +others who bore the weight of English affairs on their more or less +competent shoulders at that stressful time. Secondly, this district, +being also near the coast which had echoed with rumours of invasion +in their intensest form while the descent threatened, was formerly +animated by memories and traditions of the desperate military +preparations for that contingency. Thirdly, the same countryside +happened to include the village which was the birthplace of Nelson's +flag-captain at Trafalgar. + +When, as the first published result of these accidents, _The Trumpet +Major_ was printed, more than twenty years ago, I found myself in +the tantalizing position of having touched the fringe of a vast +international tragedy without being able, through limits of plan, +knowledge, and opportunity, to enter further into its events; a +restriction that prevailed for many years. But the slight regard +paid to English influence and action throughout the struggle by +those Continental writers who had dealt imaginatively with Napoleon's +career, seemed always to leave room for a new handling of the theme +which should re-embody the features of this influence in their true +proportion; and accordingly, on a belated day about six years back, +the following drama was outlined, to be taken up now and then at wide +intervals ever since. + +It may, I think, claim at least a tolerable fidelity to the facts of +its date as they are give in ordinary records. Whenever any evidence +of the words really spoken or written by the characters in their +various situations was attainable, as close a paraphrase has been +aimed at as was compatible with the form chosen. And in all cases +outside the oral tradition, accessible scenery, and existing relics, +my indebtedness for detail to the abundant pages of the historian, +the biographer, and the journalist, English and Foreign, has been, +of course, continuous. + +It was thought proper to introduce, as supernatural spectators +of the terrestrial action, certain impersonated abstractions, or +Intelligences, called Spirits. They are intended to be taken by the +reader for what they may be worth as contrivances of the fancy merely. +Their doctrines are but tentative, and are advanced with little eye +to a systematized philosophy warranted to lift “the burthen of the +mystery” of this unintelligible world. The chief thing hoped for +them is that they and their utterances may have dramatic plausibility +enough to procure for them, in the words of Coleridge, “that willing +suspension of disbelief for the moment which constitutes poetic +faith.” The wide prevalence of the Monistic theory of the Universe +forbade, in this twentieth century, the importation of Divine +personages from any antique Mythology as ready-made sources or +channels of Causation, even in verse, and excluded the celestial +machinery of, say, _Paradise Lost_, as peremptorily as that of the +_Iliad_ or the _Eddas_. And the abandonment of the masculine pronoun +in allusions to the First or Fundamental Energy seemed a necessary +and logical consequence of the long abandonment by thinkers of the +anthropomorphic conception of the same. + +These phantasmal Intelligences are divided into groups, of which one +only, that of the Pities, approximates to “the Universal Sympathy of +human nature--the spectator idealized”[1] of the Greek Chorus; it is +impressionable and inconsistent in its views, which sway hither and +thither as wrought on by events. Another group approximates to the +passionless Insight of the Ages. The remainder are eclectically +chosen auxiliaries whose signification may be readily discerned. +In point of literary form, the scheme of contrasted Choruses and +other conventions of this external feature was shaped with a single +view to the modern expression of a modern outlook, and in frank +divergence from classical and other dramatic precedent which ruled +the ancient voicings of ancient themes. + +It may hardly be necessary to inform readers that in devising this +chronicle-piece no attempt has been made to create that completely +organic structure of action, and closely-webbed development of +character and motive, which are demanded in a drama strictly self- +contained. A panoramic show like the present is a series of historical +“ordinates” [to use a term in geometry]: the subject is familiar to +all; and foreknowledge is assumed to fill in the junctions required +to combine the scenes into an artistic unity. Should the mental +spectator be unwilling or unable to do this, a historical presentment +on an intermittent plan, in which the _dramatis personae_ number some +hundreds, exclusive of crowds and armies, becomes in his individual +case unsuitable. + +In this assumption of a completion of the action by those to whom +the drama is addressed, it is interesting, if unnecessary, to name +an exemplar as old as Aeschylus, whose plays are, as Dr. Verrall +reminds us,[2] scenes from stories taken as known, and would be +unintelligible without supplementary scenes of the imagination. + +Readers will readily discern, too, that _The Dynasts_ is intended +simply for mental performance, and not for the stage. Some critics +have averred that to declare a drama[3] as being not for the stage is +to make an announcement whose subject and predicate cancel each +other. The question seems to be an unimportant matter of terminology. +Compositions cast in this shape were, without doubt, originally +written for the stage only, and as a consequence their nomenclature +of “Act,” “Scene,” and the like, was drawn directly from the vehicle +of representation. But in the course of time such a shape would +reveal itself to be an eminently readable one; moreover, by dispensing +with the theatre altogether, a freedom of treatment was attainable +in this form that was denied where the material possibilities of +stagery had to be rigorously remembered. With the careless +mechanicism of human speech, the technicalities of practical mumming +were retained in these productions when they had ceased to be +concerned with the stage at all. + +To say, then, in the present case, that a writing in play-shape is +not to be played, is merely another way of stating that such writing +has been done in a form for which there chances to be no brief +definition save one already in use for works that it superficially +but not entirely resembles. + +Whether mental performance alone may not eventually be the fate of +all drama other than that of contemporary or frivolous life, is a +kindred question not without interest. The mind naturally flies to +the triumphs of the Hellenic and Elizabethan theatre in exhibiting +scenes laid “far in the Unapparent,” and asks why they should not +be repeated. But the meditative world is older, more invidious, +more nervous, more quizzical, than it once was, and being unhappily +perplexed by-- + + + Riddles of Death Thebes never knew, + + +may be less ready and less able than Hellas and old England were to +look through the insistent, and often grotesque, substance at the +thing signified. + +In respect of such plays of poesy and dream a practicable compromise +may conceivably result, taking the shape of a monotonic delivery of +speeches, with dreamy conventional gestures, something in the manner +traditionally maintained by the old Christmas mummers, the curiously +hypnotizing impressiveness of whose automatic style--that of persons +who spoke by no will of their own--may be remembered by all who ever +experienced it. Gauzes or screens to blur outlines might still +further shut off the actual, as has, indeed, already been done in +exceptional cases. But with this branch of the subject we are not +concerned here. + +T.H. + +September 1903. + + + +CONTENTS. + + + +THE DYNASTS: AN EPIC-DRAMA OF THE WAR WITH NAPOLEON + + + + Preface + + + PART FIRST + + + Characters + + + Fore Scene. The Overworld + + + Act First:-- + + Scene I. England. A Ridge in Wessex + “ II. Paris. Office of the Minister of Marine + “ III. London. The Old House of Commons + “ IV. The Harbour of Boulogne + “ V. London. The House of a Lady of Quality + “ IV. Milan. The Cathedral + + + Act Second:-- + + Scene I. The Dockyard, Gibraltar + “ II. Off Ferrol + “ III. The Camp and Harbour of Boulogne + “ IV. South Wessex. A Ridge-like Down near the Coast + “ V. The Same. Rainbarrows' Beacon, Egdon Heath + + + Act Third:-- + + Scene I. The Chateau at Pont-de-Briques + “ II. The Frontiers of Upper Austria and Bavaria + “ III. Boulogne. The St. Omer Road + + + Act Fourth:-- + + Scene I. King George's Watering-place, South Wessex + “ II. Before the City of Ulm + “ III. Ulm. Within the City + “ IV. Before Ulm. The Same Day + “ V. The Same. The Michaelsberg + “ VI. London. Spring Gardens + + + Act Fifth:-- + + Scene I. Off Cape Trafalgar + “ II. The Same. The Quarter-deck of the “Victory” + “ III. The Same. On Board the “Bucentaure” + “ IV. The Same. The Cockpit of the “Victory” + “ V. London. The Guildhall + “ VI. An Inn at Rennes + “ VII. King George's Watering-place, South Wessex + + + Act Sixth:-- + + Scene I. The Field of Austerlitz. The French Position + “ II. The Same. The Russian Position + “ III. The Same. The French Position + “ IV. The Same. The Russian Position + “ V. The Same. Near the Windmill of Paleny + “ VI. Shockerwick House, near Bath + “ VII. Paris. A Street leading to the Tuileries + “ VIII. Putney. Bowling Green House + + + + + + PART SECOND + + + Characters + + + Act First:-- + + Scene I. London. Fox's Lodgings, Arlington Street + “ II. The Route between London and Paris + “ III. The Streets of Berlin + “ IV. The Field of Jena + “ V. Berlin. A Room overlooking a Public Place + “ VI. The Same + “ VII. Tilsit and the River Niemen + “ VIII. The Same + + + Act Second:-- + + Scene I. The Pyrenees and Valleys adjoining + “ II. Aranjuez, near Madrid. A Room in the Palace of + Godoy, the “Prince of Peace” + “ III. London. The Marchioness of Salisbury's + “ IV. Madrid and its Environs + “ V. The Open Sea between the English Coasts and the + Spanish Peninsula + “ VI. St. Cloud. The Boudoir of Josephine + “ VII. Vimiero + + + Act Third:-- + + Scene I. Spain. A Road near Astorga + “ II. The Same + “ III. Before Coruna + “ IV. Coruna. Near the Ramparts + “ V. Vienna. A Cafe in the Stephans-Platz + + + Act Fourth:-- + + Scene I. A Road out of Vienna + “ II. The Island of Lobau, with Wagram beyond + “ III. The Field of Wagram + “ IV. The Field of Talavera + “ V. The Same + “ VI. Brighton. The Royal Pavilion + “ VII. The Same + “ VIII. Walcheren + + + Act Fifth:-- + + Scene I. Paris. A Ballroom in the House of Cambaceres + “ II. Paris. The Tuileries + “ III. Vienna. A Private Apartment in the Imperial Palace + “ IV. London. A Club in St. James's Street + “ V. The old West Highway out of Vienna + “ VI. Courcelles + “ VII. Petersburg. The Palace of the Empress-Mother + “ VIII. Paris. The Grand Gallery of the Louvre and the + Salon-Carre adjoining + + + Act Fifth:-- + + Scene I. The Lines of Torres Vedras + “ II. The Same. Outside the Lines + “ III. Paris. The Tuileries + “ IV. Spain. Albuera + “ V. Windsor Castle. A Room in the King's Apartments + “ VI. London. Carlton House and the Streets adjoining + “ VII. The Same. The Interior of Carlton House + + + + + + PART THIRD + + + Characters + + + Act First:-- + + Scene I. The Banks of the Niemen, near Kowno + “ II. The Ford of Santa Marta, Salamanca + “ III. The Field of Salamanca + “ IV. The Field of Borodino + “ V. The Same + “ VI. Moscow + “ VII. The Same. Outside the City + “ VIII. The Same. The Interior of the Kremlin + “ IX. The Road from Smolensko into Lithuania + “ X. The Bridge of the Beresina + “ XI. The Open Country between Smorgoni and Wilna + “ XII. Paris. The Tuileries + + + Act Second:-- + + Scene I. The Plain of Vitoria + “ II. The Same, from the Puebla Heights + “ III. The Same. The Road from the Town + “ IV. A Fete at Vauxhall Gardens + + + Act Third:-- + + Scene I. Leipzig. Napoleon's Quarters in the Reudnitz Suburb + “ II. The Same. The City and the Battlefield + “ III. The Same, from the Tower of the Pleissenburg + “ IV. The Same. At the Thonberg Windmill + “ V. The Same. A Street near the Ranstadt Gate + “ VI. The Pyrenees. Near the River Nivelle + + + Act Fourth:-- + + Scene I. The Upper Rhine + “ II. Paris. The Tuileries + “ III. The Same. The Apartments of the Empress + “ IV. Fontainebleau. A Room in the Palace + “ V. Bayonne. The British Camp + “ VI. A Highway in the Outskirts of Avignon + “ VII. Malmaison. The Empress Josephine's Bedchamber + “ VIII. London. The Opera-House + + + Act Fifth:-- + + Scene I. Elba. The Quay, Porto Ferrajo + “ II. Vienna. The Imperial Palace + “ III. La Mure, near Grenoble + “ IV. Schonbrunn + “ V. London. The Old House of Commons + “ VI. Wessex. Durnover Green, Casterbridge + + + Act Sixth:-- + + Scene I. The Belgian Frontier + “ II. A Ballroom in Brussels + “ III. Charleroi. Napoleon's Quarters + “ IV. A Chamber overlooking a Main Street in Brussels + “ V. The Field of Ligny + “ VI. The Field of Quatre-Bras + “ VII. Brussels. The Place Royale + “ VIII. The Road to Waterloo + + + Act Seventh:-- + + Scene I. The Field of Waterloo + “ II. The Same. The French Position + “ III. Saint Lambert's Chapel Hill + “ IV. The Field of Waterloo. The English Position + “ V. The Same. The Women's Camp near Mont Saint-Jean + “ VI. The Same. The French Position + “ VII. The Same. The English Position + “ VIII. The Same. Later + “ IX. The Wood of Bossu + + + After Scene. The Overworld + + + + +PART FIRST + + + + CHARACTERS + + + I. PHANTOM INTELLIGENCES + + + THE ANCIENT SPIRIT OF THE YEARS/CHORUS OF THE YEARS. + + THE SPIRIT OF THE PITIES/CHORUS OF THE PITIES. + + SPIRITS SINISTER AND IRONIC/CHORUSES OF SINISTER AND IRONIC SPIRITS. + + THE SPIRIT OF RUMOUR/CHORUS OF RUMOURS. + + THE SHADE OF THE EARTH. + + SPIRIT-MESSENGERS. + + RECORDING ANGELS. + + + II. PERSONS [The names in lower case are mute figures.] + + + MEN + + GEORGE THE THIRD. + The Duke of Cumberland + PITT. + FOX. + SHERIDAN. + WINDHAM. + WHITBREAD. + TIERNEY. + BATHURST AND FULLER. + Lord Chancellor Eldon. + EARL OF MALMESBURY. + LORD MULGRAVE. + ANOTHER CABINET MINISTER. + Lord Grenville. + Viscount Castlereagh. + Viscount Sidmouth. + ANOTHER NOBLE LORD. + ROSE. + Canning. + Perceval. + Grey. + Speaker Abbot. + TOMLINE, BISHOP OF LINCOLN. + SIR WALTER FARQUHAR. + Count Munster. + Other Peers, Ministers, ex-Ministers, Members of Parliament, + and Persons of Quality. + + .......... + + NELSON. + COLLINGWOOD. + HARDY. + SECRETARY SCOTT. + DR. BEATTY. + DR. MAGRATH. + DR. ALEXANDER SCOTT. + BURKE, PURSER. + Lieutenant Pasco. + ANOTHER LIEUTENANT. + POLLARD, A MIDSHIPMAN. + Captain Adair. + Lieutenants Ram and Whipple. + Other English Naval Officers. + Sergeant-Major Secker and Marines. + Staff and other Officers of the English Army. + A COMPANY OF SOLDIERS. + Regiments of the English Army and Hanoverian. + SAILORS AND BOATMEN. + A MILITIAMAN. + Naval Crews. + + .......... + + The Lord Mayor and Corporation of London. + A GENTLEMAN OF FASHION. + WILTSHIRE, A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN + A HORSEMAN. + TWO BEACON-WATCHERS. + ENGLISH CITIZENS AND BURGESSES. + COACH AND OTHER HIGHWAY PASSENGERS. + MESSENGERS, SERVANTS, AND RUSTICS. + + .......... + + NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. + DARU, NAPOLEON'S WAR SECRETARY. + LAURISTON, AIDE-DE-CAMP. + MONGE, A PHILOSOPHER. + BERTHIER. + MURAT, BROTHER-IN-LAW OF NAPOLEON. + SOULT. + NEY. + LANNES. + Bernadotte. + Marmont. + Dupont. + Oudinot. + Davout. + Vandamme. + Other French Marshals. + A SUB-OFFICER. + +.......... + + VILLENEUVE, NAPOLEON'S ADMIRAL. + DECRES, MINISTER OF MARINE. + FLAG-CAPTAIN MAGENDIE. + LIEUTENANT DAUDIGNON. + LIEUTENANT FOURNIER. + Captain Lucas. + OTHER FRENCH NAVAL OFFICERS AND PETTY OFFICERS. + Seamen of the French and Spanish Navies. + Regiments of the French Army. + COURIERS. + HERALDS. + Aides, Officials, Pages, etc. + ATTENDANTS. + French Citizens. + +.......... + + CARDINAL CAPRARA. + Priests, Acolytes, and Choristers. + Italian Doctors and Presidents of Institutions. + Milanese Citizens. + +.......... + + THE EMPEROR FRANCIS. + THE ARCHDUKE FERDINAND. + Prince John of Lichtenstien. + PRINCE SCHWARZENBERG. + MACK, AUSTRIAN GENERAL. + JELLACHICH. + RIESC. + WEIROTHER. + ANOTHER AUSTRIAN GENERAL. + TWO AUSTRIAN OFFICERS. + +.......... + + The Emperor Alexander. + PRINCE KUTUZOF, RUSSIAN FIELD-MARSHAL. + COUNT LANGERON. + COUNT BUXHOVDEN. + COUNT MILORADOVICH. + DOKHTOROF. + +.......... + + Giulay, Gottesheim, Klenau, and Prschebiszewsky. + Regiments of the Austrian Army. + Regiments of the Russian Army. + + + WOMEN + + Queen Charlotte. + English Princesses. + Ladies of the English Court. + LADY HESTER STANHOPE. + A LADY. + Lady Caroline Lamb, Mrs. Damer, and other English Ladies. + +.......... + + THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. + Princesses and Ladies of Josephine's Court. + Seven Milanese Young Ladies. + +.......... + + City- and Towns-women. + Country-women. + A MILITIAMAN'S WIFE. + A STREET-WOMAN. + Ship-women. + Servants. + + + + +FORE SCENE + + + THE OVERWORLD + + + [Enter the Ancient Spirit and Chorus of the Years, the Spirit + and Chorus of the Pities, the Shade of the Earth, the Spirits + Sinister and Ironic with their Choruses, Rumours, Spirit- + Messengers, and Recording Angels.] + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + What of the Immanent Will and Its designs? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + It works unconsciously, as heretofore, + Eternal artistries in Circumstance, + Whose patterns, wrought by rapt aesthetic rote, + Seem in themselves Its single listless aim, + And not their consequence. + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + Still thus? Still thus? + Ever unconscious! + An automatic sense + Unweeting why or whence? + Be, then, the inevitable, as of old, + Although that SO it be we dare not hold! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Hold what ye list, fond believing Sprites, + You cannot swerve the pulsion of the Byss, + Which thinking on, yet weighing not Its thought, + Unchecks Its clock-like laws. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER [aside] + + Good, as before. + My little engines, then, will still have play. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Why doth It so and so, and ever so, + This viewless, voiceless Turner of the Wheel? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + As one sad story runs, It lends Its heed + To other worlds, being wearied out with this; + Wherefore Its mindlessness of earthly woes. + Some, too, have told at whiles that rightfully + Its warefulness, Its care, this planet lost + When in her early growth and crudity + By bad mad acts of severance men contrived, + Working such nescience by their own device.-- + Yea, so it stands in certain chronicles, + Though not in mine. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Meet is it, none the less, + To bear in thought that though Its consciousness + May be estranged, engrossed afar, or sealed, + Sublunar shocks may wake Its watch anon? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Nay. In the Foretime, even to the germ of Being, + Nothing appears of shape to indicate + That cognizance has marshalled things terrene, + Or will [such is my thinking] in my span. + Rather they show that, like a knitter drowsed, + Whose fingers play in skilled unmindfulness, + The Will has woven with an absent heed + Since life first was; and ever will so weave. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Hence we've rare dramas going--more so since + It wove Its web in the Ajaccian womb! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Well, no more this on what no mind can mete. + Our scope is but to register and watch + By means of this great gift accorded us-- + The free trajection of our entities. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + On things terrene, then, I would say that though + The human news wherewith the Rumours stirred us + May please thy temper, Years, 'twere better far + Such deeds were nulled, and this strange man's career + Wound up, as making inharmonious jars + In her creation whose meek wraith we know. + The more that he, turned man of mere traditions, + Now profits naught. For the large potencies + Instilled into his idiosyncrasy-- + To throne fair Liberty in Privilege' room-- + Are taking taint, and sink to common plots + For his own gain. + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + And who, then, Cordial One, + Wouldst substitute for this Intractable? + + + CHORUS OF THE EARTH + + We would establish those of kindlier build, + In fair Compassions skilled, + Men of deep art in life-development; + Watchers and warders of thy varied lands, + Men surfeited of laying heavy hands, + Upon the innocent, + The mild, the fragile, the obscure content + Among the myriads of thy family. + Those, too, who love the true, the excellent, + And make their daily moves a melody. + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + They may come, will they. I am not averse. + Yet know I am but the ineffectual Shade + Of her the Travailler, herself a thrall + To It; in all her labourings curbed and kinged! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Shall such be mooted now? Already change + Hath played strange pranks since first I brooded here. + But old Laws operate yet; and phase and phase + Of men's dynastic and imperial moils + Shape on accustomed lines. Though, as for me, + I care not thy shape, or what they be. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + You seem to have small sense of mercy, Sire? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Mercy I view, not urge;--nor more than mark + What designate your titles Good and Ill. + 'Tis not in me to feel with, or against, + These flesh-hinged mannikins Its hand upwinds + To click-clack off Its preadjusted laws; + But only through my centuries to behold + Their aspects, and their movements, and their mould. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + They are shapes that bleed, mere mannikins or no, + And each has parcel in the total Will. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Which overrides them as a whole its parts + In other entities. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER [aside] + + Limbs of Itself: + Each one a jot of It in quaint disguise? + I'll fear all men henceforward! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Go to. Let this terrestrial tragedy-- + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Nay, Comedy-- + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Let this earth-tragedy + Whereof we spake, afford a spectacle + Forthwith conned closelier than your custom is.-- + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + How does it stand? [To a Recording Angel] + Open and chant the page + Thou'st lately writ, that sums these happenings, + In brief reminder of their instant points + Slighted by us amid our converse here. + + + RECORDING ANGEL [from a book, in recitative] + + Now mellow-eyed Peace is made captive, + And Vengeance is chartered + To deal forth its dooms on the Peoples + With sword and with spear. + + Men's musings are busy with forecasts + Of muster and battle, + And visions of shock and disaster + Rise red on the year. + + The easternmost ruler sits wistful, + And tense he to midward; + The King to the west mans his borders + In front and in rear. + + While one they eye, flushed from his crowning, + Ranks legions around him + To shake the enisled neighbour nation + And close her career! + + + SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS [aerial music] + + O woven-winged squadrons of Toulon + And fellows of Rochefort, + Wait, wait for a wind, and draw westward + Ere Nelson be near! + + For he reads not your force, or your freightage + Of warriors fell-handed, + Or when they will join for the onset, + Or whither they steer! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + O Nelson, so zealous a watcher + Through months-long of cruizing, + Thy foes may elide thee a moment, + Put forth, and get clear; + + And rendezvous westerly straightway + With Spain's aiding navies, + And hasten to head violation + Of Albion's frontier! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Methinks too much assurance thrills your note + On secrets in my locker, gentle sprites; + But it may serve.--Our thought being now reflexed + To forces operant on this English isle, + Behoves it us to enter scene by scene, + And watch the spectacle of Europe's moves + In her embroil, as they were self-ordained + According to the naive and liberal creed + Of our great-hearted young Compassionates, + Forgetting the Prime Mover of the gear, + As puppet-watchers him who pulls the strings.-- + You'll mark the twitchings of this Bonaparte + As he with other figures foots his reel, + Until he twitch him into his lonely grave: + Also regard the frail ones that his flings + Have made gyrate like animalcula + In tepid pools.--Hence to the precinct, then, + And count as framework to the stagery + Yon architraves of sunbeam-smitten cloud.-- + So may ye judge Earth's jackaclocks to be + No fugled by one Will, but function-free. + + [The nether sky opens, and Europe is disclosed as a prone and + emaciated figure, the Alps shaping like a backbone, and the + branching mountain-chains like ribs, the peninsular plateau of + Spain forming a head. Broad and lengthy lowlands stretch from + the north of France across Russia like a grey-green garment hemmed + by the Ural mountains and the glistening Arctic Ocean. + + The point of view then sinks downwards through space, and draws + near to the surface of the perturbed countries, where the peoples, + distressed by events which they did not cause, are seen writhing, + crawling, heaving, and vibrating in their various cities and + nationalities.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS [to the Spirit of the Pities] + + As key-scene to the whole, I first lay bare + The Will-webs of thy fearful questioning; + For know that of my antique privileges + This gift to visualize the Mode is one + [Though by exhaustive strain and effort only]. + See, then, and learn, ere my power pass again. + + [A new and penetrating light descends on the spectacle, enduring + men and things with a seeming transparency, and exhibiting as one + organism the anatomy of life and movement in all humanity and + vitalized matter included in the display.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Amid this scene of bodies substantive + Strange waves I sight like winds grown visible, + Which bear men's forms on their innumerous coils, + Twining and serpenting round and through. + Also retracting threads like gossamers-- + Except in being irresistible-- + Which complicate with some, and balance all. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + These are the Prime Volitions,--fibrils, veins, + Will-tissues, nerves, and pulses of the Cause, + That heave throughout the Earth's compositure. + Their sum is like the lobule of a Brain + Evolving always that it wots not of; + A Brain whose whole connotes the Everywhere, + And whose procedure may but be discerned + By phantom eyes like ours; the while unguessed + Of those it stirs, who [even as ye do] dream + Their motions free, their orderings supreme; + Each life apart from each, with power to mete + Its own day's measures; balanced, self complete; + Though they subsist but atoms of the One + Labouring through all, divisible from none; + But this no further now. Deem yet man's deeds self-done. + + + GENERAL CHORUS OF INTELLIGENCES [aerial music] + + We'll close up Time, as a bird its van, + We'll traverse Space, as spirits can, + Link pulses severed by leagues and years, + Bring cradles into touch with biers; + So that the far-off Consequence appear + Prompt at the heel of foregone Cause.-- + The PRIME, that willed ere wareness was, + Whose Brain perchance is Space, whose Thought its laws, + Which we as threads and streams discern, + We may but muse on, never learn. + + + END OF THE FORE SCENE + + + + +ACT FIRST + + + SCENE I + + ENGLAND. A RIDGE IN WESSEX + + [The time is a fine day in March 1805. A highway crosses the + ridge, which is near the sea, and the south coast is seen + bounding the landscape below, the open Channel extending beyond.] + + + SPIRITS OF THE YEARS + + Hark now, and gather how the martial mood + Stirs England's humblest hearts. Anon we'll trace + Its heavings in the upper coteries there. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Ay; begin small, and so lead up to the greater. It is a sound + dramatic principle. I always aim to follow it in my pestilences, + fires, famines, and other comedies. And though, to be sure, I did + not in my Lisbon earthquake, I did in my French Terror, and my St. + Domingo burlesque. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + THY Lisbon earthquake, THY French Terror. Wait. + Thinking thou will'st, thou dost but indicate. + + [A stage-coach enters, with passengers outside. Their voices + after the foregoing sound small and commonplace, as from another + medium.] + + + FIRST PASSENGER + + There seems to be a deal of traffic over Ridgeway, even at this time + o' year. + + + SECOND PASSENGER + + Yes. It is because the King and Court are coming down here later + on. They wake up this part rarely!... See, now, how the Channel + and coast open out like a chart. That patch of mist below us is the + town we are bound for. There's the Isle of Slingers beyond, like a + floating snail. That wide bay on the right is where the “Abergavenny,” + Captain John Wordsworth, was wrecked last month. One can see half + across to France up here. + + + FIRST PASSENGER + + Half across. And then another little half, and then all that's + behind--the Corsican mischief! + + + SECOND PASSENGER + + Yes. People who live hereabout--I am a native of these parts--feel + the nearness of France more than they do inland. + + + FIRST PASSENGER + + That's why we have seen so many of these marching regiments on the + road. This year his grandest attempt upon us is to be made, I reckon. + + + SECOND PASSENGER + + May we be ready! + + + FIRST PASSENGER + + Well, we ought to be. We've had alarms enough, God knows. + + [Some companies of infantry are seen ahead, and the coach presently + overtakes them.] + + + SOLDIERS [singing as they walk] + + We be the King's men, hale and hearty, + Marching to meet one Buonaparty; + If he won't sail, lest the wind should blow, + We shall have marched for nothing, O! + Right fol-lol! + + We be the King's men, hale and hearty, + Marching to meet one Buonaparty; + If he be sea-sick, says “No, no!” + We shall have marched for nothing, O! + Right fol-lol! + + [The soldiers draw aside, and the coach passes on.] + + + SECOND PASSENGER + + Is there truth in it that Bonaparte wrote a letter to the King last + month? + + + FIRST PASSENGER + + Yes, sir. A letter in his own hand, in which he expected the King + to reply to him in the same manner. + + + SOLDIERS [continuing, as they are left behind] + + We be the King's men, hale and hearty, + Marching to meet one Buonaparty; + Never mind, mates; we'll be merry, though + We may have marched for nothing, O! + Right fol-lol! + + + THIRD PASSENGER + + And was Boney's letter friendly? + + + FIRST PASSENGER + + Certainly, sir. He requested peace with the King. + + + THIRD PASSENGER + + And why shouldn't the King reply in the same manner? + + + FIRST PASSENGER + + What! Encourage this man in an act of shameless presumption, and + give him the pleasure of considering himself the equal of the King + of England--whom he actually calls his brother! + + + THIRD PASSENGER + + He must be taken for what he is, not for what he was; and if he calls + King George his brother it doesn't speak badly for his friendliness. + + + FIRST PASSENGER + + Whether or no, the King, rightly enough, did not reply in person, + but through Lord Mulgrave our Foreign Minister, to the effect that + his Britannic Majesty cannot give a specific answer till he has + communicated with the Continental powers. + + + THIRD PASSENGER + + Both the manner and the matter of the reply are British; but a huge + mistake. + + + FIRST PASSENGER + + Sir, am I to deem you a friend of Bonaparte, a traitor to your + country--- + + + THIRD PASSENGER + + Damn my wig, sir, if I'll be called a traitor by you or any Court + sycophant at all at all! + + [He unpacks a case of pistols.] + + + SECOND PASSENGER + + Gentlemen forbear, forbear! Should such differences be suffered to + arise on a spot where we may, in less than three months, be fighting + for our very existence? This is foolish, I say. Heaven alone, who + reads the secrets of this man's heart, can tell what his meaning and + intent may be, and if his letter has been answered wisely or no. + + [The coach is stopped to skid the wheel for the descent of the + hill, and before it starts again a dusty horseman overtakes it.] + + + SEVERAL PASSENGERS + + A London messenger! [To horseman] Any news, sir? We are from + Bristol only. + + + HORSEMAN + + Yes; much. We have declared war against Spain, an error giving + vast delight to France. Bonaparte says he will date his next + dispatches from London, and the landing of his army may be daily + expected. + + [Exit horseman.] + + + THIRD PASSENGER + + Sir, I apologize. He's not to be trusted! War is his name, and + aggression is with him! + + [He repacks the pistols. A silence follows. The coach and + passengers move downwards and disappear towards the coast.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Ill chanced it that the English monarch George + Did not respond to the said Emperor! + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + I saw good sport therein, and paean'd the Will + To unimpel so stultifying a move! + Which would have marred the European broil, + And sheathed all swords, and silenced every gun + That riddles human flesh. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + O say no more; + If aught could gratify the Absolute + 'Twould verily be thy censure, not thy praise! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + The ruling was that we should witness things + And not dispute them. To the drama, then. + Emprizes over-Channel are the key + To this land's stir and ferment.--Thither we. + + [Clouds gather over the scene, and slowly open elsewhere.] + + + + SCENE II + + PARIS. OFFICE OF THE MINISTER OF MARINE + + [ADMIRAL DECRES seated at a table. A knock without.] + + + DECRES + + Come in! Good news, I hope! + + [An attendant enters.] + + + ATTENDANT + A courier, sir. + + + DECRES + + Show him in straightway. + + [The attendant goes out.] + + From the Emperor + As I expected! + + + COURIER + + Sir, for your own hand + And yours alone. + + + DECRES + + Thanks. Be in waiting near. + + [The courier withdraws.] + + + DECRES reads: + + “I am resolved that no wild dream of Ind, + And what we there might win; or of the West, + And bold re-conquest there of Surinam + And other Dutch retreats along those coasts, + Or British islands nigh, shall draw me now + From piercing into England through Boulogne + As lined in my first plan. If I do strike, + I strike effectively; to forge which feat + There's but one way--planting a mortal wound + In England's heart--the very English land-- + Whose insolent and cynical reply + To my well-based complaint on breach of faith + Concerning Malta, as at Amiens pledged, + Has lighted up anew such flames of ire + As may involve the world.--Now to the case: + Our naval forces can be all assembled + Without the foe's foreknowledge or surmise, + By these rules following; to whose text I ask + Your gravest application; and, when conned, + That steadfastly you stand by word and word, + Making no question of one jot therein. + + “First, then, let Villeneuve wait a favouring wind + For process westward swift to Martinique, + Coaxing the English after. Join him there + Gravina, Missiessy, and Ganteaume; + Which junction once effected all our keels-- + While the pursuers linger in the West + At hopeless fault.--Having hoodwinked them thus, + Our boats skim over, disembark the army, + And in the twinkling of a patriot's eye + All London will be ours. + + “In strictest secrecy carve this to shape-- + Let never an admiral or captain scent + Save Villeneuve and Ganteaume; and pen each charge + With your own quill. The surelier to outwit them + I start for Italy; and there, as 'twere + Engrossed in fetes and Coronation rites, + Abide till, at the need, I reach Boulogne, + And head the enterprize.--NAPOLEON.” + + [DECRES reflects, and turns to write.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + He buckles to the work. First to Villeneuve, + His onetime companion and his boyhood's friend, + Now lingering at Toulon, he jots swift lines, + The duly to Ganteaume.--They are sealed forthwith, + And superscribed: “Break not till on the main.” + + [Boisterous singing is heard in the street.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + I hear confused and simmering sounds without, + Like those which thrill the hives at evenfall + When swarming pends. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + They but proclaim the crowd, + Which sings and shouts its hot enthusiasms + For this dead-ripe design on England's shore, + Till the persuasion of its own plump words, + Acting upon mercurial temperaments, + Makes hope as prophecy. “Our Emperor + Will show himself [say they] in this exploit + Unwavering, keen, and irresistible + As is the lightning prong. Our vast flotillas + Have been embodied as by sorcery; + Soldiers made seamen, and the ports transformed + To rocking cities casemented with guns. + Against these valiants balance England's means: + Raw merchant-fellows from the counting-house, + Raw labourers from the fields, who thumb for arms + Clumsy untempered pikes forged hurriedly, + And cry them full-equipt. Their batteries, + Their flying carriages, their catamarans, + Shall profit not, and in one summer night + We'll find us there!” + + + RECORDING ANGEL + + And is this prophecy true? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Occasion will reveal. + + + SHADE OF EARTH + + What boots it, Sire, + To down this dynasty, set that one up, + Goad panting peoples to the throes thereof, + Make wither here my fruit, maintain it there, + And hold me travailling through fineless years + In vain and objectless monotony, + When all such tedious conjuring could be shunned + By uncreation? Howsoever wise + The governance of these massed mortalities, + A juster wisdom his who should have ruled + They had not been. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Nay, something hidden urged + The giving matter motion; and these coils + Are, maybe, good as any. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + But why any? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Sprite of Compassions, ask the Immanent! + I am but an accessory of Its works, + Whom the Ages render conscious; and at most + Figure as bounden witness of Its laws. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + How ask the aim of unrelaxing Will? + Tranced in Its purpose to unknowingness? + [If thy words, Ancient Phantom, token true.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Thou answerest well. But cease to ask of me. + Meanwhile the mime proceeds.--We turn herefrom, + Change our homuncules, and observe forthwith + How the High Influence sways the English realm, + And how the jacks lip out their reasonings there. + + [The Cloud-curtain draws.] + + + + SCENE III + + LONDON. THE OLD HOUSE OF COMMONS + + [A long chamber with a gallery on each side supported by thin + columns having gilt Ionic capitals. Three round-headed windows + are at the further end, above the Speaker's chair, which is backed + by a huge pedimented structure in white and gilt, surmounted by the + lion and the unicorn. The windows are uncurtained, one being open, + through which some boughs are seen waving in the midnight gloom + without. Wax candles, burnt low, wave and gutter in a brass + chandelier which hangs from the middle of the ceiling, and in + branches projecting from the galleries. + + The House is sitting, the benches, which extend round to the + Speaker's elbows, being closely packed, and the galleries + likewise full. Among the members present on the Government + side are PITT and other ministers with their supporters, + including CANNING, CASTLEREAGH, LORD C. SOMERSET, ERSKINE, + W. DUNDAS, HUSKISSON, ROSE, BEST, ELLIOT, DALLAS, and the + general body of the party. On the opposite side are noticeable + FOX, SHERIDAN, WINDHAM, WHITBREAD, GREY, T. GRENVILLE, TIERNEY, + EARL TEMPLE, PONSONBY, G. AND H. WALPOLE, DUDLEY NORTH, and + TIMOTHY SHELLEY. Speaker ABBOT occupies the Chair.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + As prelude to the scene, as means to aid + Our younger comrades in its construing, + Pray spread your scripture, and rehearse in brief + The reasonings here of late--to whose effects + Words of to-night form sequence. + + [The Recording Angels chant from their books, antiphonally, in a + minor recitative.] + + + ANGEL I [aerial music] + + Feeble-framed dull unresolve, unresourcefulness, + Sat in the halls of the Kingdom's high Councillors, + Whence the grey glooms of a ghost-eyed despondency + Wanned as with winter the national mind. + + + ANGEL II + + England stands forth to the sword of Napoleon + Nakedly--not an ally in support of her; + Men and munitions dispersed inexpediently; + Projects of range and scope poorly defined. + + + ANGEL I + + Once more doth Pitt deem the land crying loud to him.-- + Frail though and spent, and an-hungered for restfulness + Once more responds he, dead fervours to energize, + Aims to concentre, slack efforts to bind. + + + ANGEL II + + Ere the first fruit thereof grow audible, + Holding as hapless his dream of good guardianship, + Jestingly, earnestly, shouting it serviceless, + Tardy, inept, and uncouthly designed. + + + ANGELS I AND II + + So now, to-night, in slashing old sentences, + Hear them speak,--gravely these, those with gay-heartedness,-- + Midst their admonishments little conceiving how + Scarlet the scroll that the years will unwind! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES [to the Spirit of the Years] + + Let us put on and suffer for the nonce + The feverish fleshings of Humanity, + And join the pale debaters here convened. + So may thy soul be won to sympathy + By donning their poor mould. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + I'll humour thee, + Though my unpassioned essence could not change + Did I incarn in moulds of all mankind! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + 'Tis enough to make every little dog in England run to mixen to + hear this Pitt sung so strenuously! I'll be the third of the + incarnate, on the chance of hearing the tune played the other way. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + And I the fourth. There's sure to be something in my line toward, + where politicians gathered together! + + [The four Phantoms enter the Gallery of the House in the disguise + of ordinary strangers.] + + + SHERIDAN [rising] + + The Bill I would have leave to introduce + Is framed, sir, to repeal last Session's Act, + By party-scribes intituled a Provision + For England's Proper Guard; but elsewhere known + As Mr. Pitt's new Patent Parish Pill. [Laughter.] + + The ministerial countenances, I mark, + Congeal to dazed surprise at my straight motion-- + Why, passes sane conjecture. It may be + That, with a haughty and unwavering faith + In their own battering-rams of argument, + They deemed our buoyance whelmed, and sapped, and sunk + To our hope's sheer bottom, whence a miracle + Was all could friend and float us; or, maybe, + They are amazed at our rude disrespect + In making mockery of an English Law + Sprung sacred from the King's own Premier's brain! + --I hear them snort; but let them wince at will, + My duty must be done; shall be done quickly + By citing some few facts. + + An Act for our defence! + It weakens, not defends; and oversea + Swoln France's despot and his myrmidons + This moment know it, and can scoff thereat. + Our people know it too--those who can peer + Behind the scenes of this poor painted show + Called soldiering!--The Act has failed, must fail, + As my right honourable friend well proved + When speaking t'other night, whose silencing + By his right honourable _vis a vis_ + Was of the genuine Governmental sort, + And like the catamarans their sapience shaped + All fizzle and no harm. [Laughter.] The Act, in brief, + Effects this much: that the whole force of England + Is strengthened by--eleven thousand men! + So sorted that the British infantry + Are now eight hundred less than heretofore! + + In Ireland, where the glamouring influence + Of the right honourable gentleman + Prevails with magic might, ELEVEN men + Have been amassed. And in the Cinque-Port towns, + Where he is held in absolute veneration, + His method has so quickened martial fire + As to bring in--one man. O would that man + Might meet my sight! [Laughter.] A Hercules, no doubt, + A god-like emanation from this Act, + Who with his single arm will overthrow + All Buonaparte's legions ere their keels + Have scraped one pebble of our fortless shore!... + Such is my motion, sir, and such my mind. + + [He sits down amid cheers. The candle-snuffers go round, and Pitt + rises. During the momentary pause before he speaks the House assumes + an attentive stillness, in which can be heard the rustling of the + trees without, a horn from an early coach, and the voice of the watch + crying the hour.] + + + PITT + + Not one on this side but appreciates + Those mental gems and airy pleasantries + Flashed by the honourable gentleman, + Who shines in them by birthright. Each device + Of drollery he has laboured to outshape, + [Or treasured up from others who have shaped it,] + Displays that are the conjurings of the moment, + [Or mellowed and matured by sleeping on]-- + Dry hoardings in his book of commonplace, + Stored without stint of toil through days and months-- + He heaps into one mass, and light and fans + As fuel for his flaming eloquence, + Mouthed and maintained without a thought or care + If germane to the theme, or not at all. + + Now vain indeed it were should I assay + To match him in such sort. For, sir, alas, + To use imagination as the ground + Of chronicle, take myth and merry tale + As texts for prophecy, is not my gift + Being but a person primed with simple fact, + Unprinked by jewelled art.--But to the thing. + + The preparations of the enemy, + Doggedly bent to desolate our land, + Advance with a sustained activity. + They are seen, they are known, by you and by us all. + But they evince no clear-eyed tentative + In furtherance of the threat, whose coming off, + Ay, years may yet postpone; whereby the Act + Will far outstrip him, and the thousands called + Duly to join the ranks by its provisions, + In process sure, if slow, will ratch the lines + Of English regiments--seasoned, cool, resolved-- + To glorious length and firm prepotency. + And why, then, should we dream of its repeal + Ere profiting by its advantages? + Must the House listen to such wilding words + As this proposal, at the very hour + When the Act's gearing finds its ordered grooves + And circles into full utility? + The motion of the honourable gentleman + Reminds me aptly of a publican + Who should, when malting, mixing, mashing's past, + Fermenting, barrelling, and spigoting, + Quick taste the brew, and shake his sapient head, + And cry in acid voice: The ale is new! + Brew old, you varlets; cast this slop away! [Cheers.] + + But gravely, sir, I would conclude to-night, + And, as a serious man on serious things, + I now speak here.... I pledge myself to this: + Unprecedented and magnificent + As were our strivings in the previous war, + Our efforts in the present shall transcend them, + As men will learn. Such efforts are not sized + By this light measuring-rule my critic here + Whips from his pocket like a clerk-o'-works!... + Tasking and toilsome war's details must be, + And toilsome, too, must be their criticism,-- + Not in a moment's stroke extemporized. + + The strange fatality that haunts the times + Wherein our lot is cast, has no example. + Times are they fraught with peril, trouble, gloom; + We have to mark their lourings, and to face them. + Sir, reading thus the full significance + Of these big days, large though my lackings be, + Can any hold of those who know my past + That I, of all men, slight our safeguarding? + No: by all honour no!--Were I convinced + That such could be the mind of members here, + My sorrowing thereat would doubly shade + The shade on England now! So I do trust + All in the House will take my tendered word, + And credit my deliverance here to-night, + That in this vital point of watch and ward + Against the threatenings from yonder coast + We stand prepared; and under Providence + Shall fend whatever hid or open stroke + A foe may deal. + + [He sits down amid loud ministerial cheers, with symptoms of + great exhaustion.] + + + WINDHAM + + The question that compels the House to-night + Is not of differences in wit and wit, + But if for England it be well or no + To null the new-fledged Act, as one inept + For setting up with speed and hot effect + The red machinery of desperate war.-- + Whatever it may do, or not, it stands, + A statesman' raw experiment. If ill, + Shall more experiments and more be tried + In stress of jeopardy that stirs demand + For sureness of proceeding? Must this House + Exchange safe action based on practised lines + For yet more ventures into risks unknown + To gratify a quaint projector's whim, + While enemies hang grinning round our gates + To profit by mistake? + + My friend who spoke + Found comedy in the matter. Comical + As it may be in parentage and feature, + Most grave and tragic in its consequence + This Act may prove. We are moving thoughtlessly, + We squander precious, brief, life-saving time + On idle guess-games. Fail the measure must, + Nay, failed it has already; and should rouse + Resolve in its progenitor himself + To move for its repeal! [Cheers.] + + + WHITBREAD + + I rise but to subjoin a phrase or two + To those of my right honourable friend. + I, too, am one who reads the present pinch + As passing all our risks heretofore. + For why? Our bold and reckless enemy, + Relaxing not his plans, has treasured time + To mass his monstrous force on all the coigns + From which our coast is close assailable. + Ay, even afloat his concentrations work: + Two vast united squadrons of his sail + Move at this moment viewless on the seas.-- + Their whereabouts, untraced, unguessable, + Will not be known to us till some black blow + Be dealt by them in some undreamt-of quarter + To knell our rule. + + That we are reasonably enfenced therefrom + By such an Act is but a madman's dream.... + A commonwealth so situate cries aloud + For more, far mightier, measures! End an Act + In Heaven's name, then, which only can obstruct + The fabrication of more trusty tackle + For building up an army! [Cheers.] + + + BATHURST + + Sir, the point + To any sober mind is bright as noon; + Whether the Act should have befitting trial + Or be blasphemed at sight. I firmly hold + The latter loud iniquity.--One task + Is theirs who would inter this corpse-cold Act-- + [So said]--to bring to birth a substitute! + Sir, they have none; they have given no thought to one, + And this their deeds incautiously disclose + Their cloaked intention and most secret aim! + With them the question is not how to frame + A finer trick to trounce intrusive foes, + But who shall be the future ministers + To whom such trick against intrusive foes, + Whatever it may prove, shall be entrusted! + They even ask the country gentlemen + To join them in this job. But, God be praised, + Those gentlemen are sound, and of repute; + Their names, their attainments, and their blood, + [Ironical Opposition cheers.] + Safeguard them from an onslaught on an Act + For ends so sinister and palpable! [Cheers and jeerings.] + + + FULLER + + I disapprove of censures of the Act.-- + All who would entertain such hostile thought + Would swear that black is white, that night is day. + No honest man will join a reckless crew + Who'd overthrow their country for their gain! [Laughter.] + + + TIERNEY + + It is incumbent on me to declare + In the last speaker's face my censure, based + On grounds most clear and constitutional.-- + An Act it is that studies to create + A standing army, large and permanent; + Which kind of force has ever been beheld + With jealous-eyed disfavour in this House. + It makes for sure oppression, binding men + To serve for less than service proves it worth + Conditioned by no hampering penalty. + For these and late-spoke reasons, then, I say, + Let not the Act deface the statute-book, + But blot it out forthwith. [Hear, hear.] + + + FOX [rising amid cheers] + + At this late hour, + After the riddling fire the Act has drawn on't, + My words shall hold the House the briefest while. + Too obvious to the most unwilling mind + It grows that the existence of this law + Experience and reflection have condemned. + Professing to do much, it makes for nothing; + Not only so; while feeble in effect + It shows it vicious in its principle. + Engaging to raise men for the common weal + It sets a harmful and unequal tax + Capriciously on our communities.-- + The annals of a century fail to show + More flagrant cases of oppressiveness + Than those this statute works to perpetrate, + Which [like all Bills this favoured statesman frames, + And clothes with tapestries of rhetoric + Disguising their real web of commonplace] + Though held as shaped for English bulwarking, + Breathes in its heart perversities of party, + And instincts toward oligarchic power, + Galling the many to relieve the few! [Cheers.] + + Whatever breadth and sense of equity + Inform the methods of this minister, + Those mitigants nearly always trace their root + To measures that his predecessors wrought. + And ere his Government can dare assert + Superior claim to England's confidence, + They owe it to their honour and good name + To furnish better proof of such a claim + Than is revealed by the abortiveness + Of this thing called an Act for our Defence. + + To the great gifts of its artificer + No member of this House is more disposed + To yield full recognition than am I. + No man has found more reason so to do + Through the long roll of disputatious years + Wherein we have stood opposed.... + But if one single fact could counsel me + To entertain a doubt of those great gifts, + And cancel faith in his capacity, + That fact would be the vast imprudence shown + In staking recklessly repute like his + On such an Act as he has offered us-- + So false in principle, so poor in fruit. + Sir, the achievements and effects thereof + Have furnished not one fragile argument + Which all the partiality of friendship + Can kindle to consider as the mark + Of a clear, vigorous, freedom-fostering mind! + + [He sits down amid lengthy cheering from the Opposition.] + + + SHERIDAN + + My summary shall be brief, and to the point.-- + The said right honourable Prime Minister + Has thought it proper to declare my speech + The jesting of an irresponsible;-- + Words from a person who has never read + The Act he claims him urgent to repeal. + Such quips and qizzings [as he reckons them] + He implicates as gathered from long hoards + Stored up with cruel care, to be discharged + With sudden blaze of pyrotechnic art + On the devoted, gentle, shrinking head + O' the right incomparable gentleman! [Laughter.] + But were my humble, solemn, sad oration [Laughter.] + Indeed such rattle as he rated it, + Is it not strange, and passing precedent, + That the illustrious chief of Government + Should have uprisen with such indecent speed + And strenuously replied? He, sir, knows well + That vast and luminous talents like his own + Could not have been demanded to choke off + A witcraft marked by nothing more of weight + Than ignorant irregularity! + _Nec Deus intersit_--and so-and-so-- + Is a well-worn citation whose close fit + None will perceive more clearly in the Fane + Than its presiding Deity opposite. [Laughter.] + His thunderous answer thus perforce condemns him! + + Moreover, to top all, the while replying, + He still thought best to leave intact the reasons + On which my blame was founded! + Thus, them, stands + My motion unimpaired, convicting clearly + Of dire perversion that capacity + We formerly admired.-- [Cries of “Oh, oh.”] + This minister + Whose circumventions never circumvent, + Whose coalitions fail to coalesce; + This dab at secret treaties known to all, + This darling of the aristocracy-- + + [Laughter, “Oh, oh,” cheers, and cries of “Divide.”] + + Has brought the millions to the verge of ruin, + By pledging them to Continental quarrels + Of which we see no end! [Cheers.] + + [The members rise to divide.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + It irks me that they thus should Yea and Nay + As though a power lay in their oraclings, + If each decision work unconsciously, + And would be operant though unloosened were + A single lip! + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + There may react on things + Some influence from these, indefinitely, + And even on That, whose outcome we all are. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Hypotheses!--More boots it to remind + The younger here of our ethereal band + And hierarchy of Intelligences, + That this thwart Parliament whose moods we watch-- + So insular, empiric, un-ideal-- + May figure forth in sharp and salient lines + To retrospective eyes of afterdays, + And print its legend large on History. + For one cause--if I read the signs aright-- + To-night's appearance of its Minister + In the assembly of his long-time sway + Is near his last, and themes to-night launched forth + Will take a tincture from that memory, + When me recall the scene and circumstance + That hung about his pleadings.--But no more; + The ritual of each party is rehearsed, + Dislodging not one vote or prejudice; + The ministers their ministries retain, + And Ins as Ins, and Outs as Outs, remain. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Meanwhile what of the Foeman's vast array + That wakes these tones? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Abide the event, young Shade: + Soon stars will shut and show a spring-eyed dawn, + And sunbeams fountain forth, that will arouse + Those forming bands to full activity. + + [An honourable member reports that he spies strangers.] + + A timely token that we dally here! + We now cast off these mortal manacles, + And speed us seaward. + + [The Phantoms vanish from the Gallery. The members file out + to the lobbies. The House and Westminster recede into the + films of night, and the point of observation shifts rapidly + across the Channel.] + + + + SCENE IV + + THE HARBOUR OF BOULOGNE + + [The morning breaks, radiant with early sunlight. The French + Army of Invasion is disclosed. On the hills on either side + of the town and behind appear large military camps formed of + timber huts. Lower down are other camps of more or less + permanent kind, the whole affording accommodation for one + hundred and fifty thousand men. + + South of the town is an extensive basin surrounded by quays, + the heaps of fresh soil around showing it to be a recent + excavation from the banks of the Liane. The basin is crowded + with the flotilla, consisting of hundreds of vessels of sundry + kinds: flat-bottomed brigs with guns and two masts; boats of + one mast, carrying each an artillery waggon, two guns, and a + two-stalled horse-box; transports with three low masts; and + long narrow pinnaces arranged for many oars. + + Timber, saw-mills, and new-cut planks spread in profusion + around, and many of the town residences are seen to be adapted + for warehouses and infirmaries.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + Moving in this scene are countless companies of soldiery, engaged + in a drill practice of embarking and disembarking, and of hoisting + horses into the vessels and landing them again. Vehicles bearing + provisions of many sorts load and unload before the temporary + warehouses. Further off, on the open land, bodies of troops are at + field-drill. Other bodies of soldiers, half stripped and encrusted + with mud, are labouring as navvies in repairing the excavations. + + An English squadron of about twenty sail, comprising a ship or two of + the line, frigates, brigs, and luggers, confronts the busy spectacle + from the sea. + + The Show presently dims and becomes broken, till only its flashes and + gleams are visible. Anon a curtain of cloud closes over it. + + + + SCENE V + + LONDON. THE HOUSE OF A LADY OF QUALITY + + [A fashionable crowd is present at an evening party, which + includes the DUKES of BEAUFORT and RUTLAND, LORDS MALMESBURY, + HARROWBY, ELDON, GRENVILLE, CASTLEREAGH, SIDMOUTH, and MULGRAVE, + with their ladies; also CANNING, PERCEVAL, TOWNSHEND, LADY + ANNE HAMILTON, MRS. DAMER, LADY CAROLINE LAMB, and many other + notables.] + + + A GENTLEMAN [offering his snuff-box] + + So, then, the Treaty anxiously concerted + Between ourselves and frosty Muscovy + Is duly signed? + + + A CABINET MINISTER + + Was signed a few days back, + And is in force. And we do firmly hope + The loud pretensions and the stunning dins + Now daily heard, these laudable exertions + May keep in curb; that ere our greening land + Darken its leaves beneath the Dogday suns, + The independence of the Continent + May be assured, and all the rumpled flags + Of famous dynasties so foully mauled, + Extend their honoured hues as heretofore. + + + GENTLEMAN + + So be it. Yet this man is a volcano; + And proven 'tis, by God, volcanos choked + Have ere now turned to earthquakes! + + + LADY + + What the news?-- + The chequerboard of diplomatic moves + Is London, all the world knows: here are born + All inspirations of the Continent-- + So tell! + + GENTLEMAN + + Ay. Inspirations now abound! + + + LADY + + Nay, but your looks are grave! That measured speech + Betokened matter that will waken us.-- + Is it some piquant cruelty of his? + Or other tickling horror from abroad + The packet has brought in? + + + GENTLEMAN + + The treaty's signed! + + + MINISTER + + Whereby the parties mutually agree + To knit in union and in general league + All outraged Europe. + + + LADY + + So to knit sounds well; + But how ensure its not unravelling? + + + MINISTER + + Well; by the terms. There are among them these: + Five hundred thousand active men in arms + Shall strike [supported by the Britannic aid + In vessels, men, and money subsidies] + To free North Germany and Hanover + From trampling foes; deliver Switzerland, + Unbind the galled republic of the Dutch, + Rethrone in Piedmont the Sardinian King, + Make Naples sword-proof, un-French Italy + From shore to shore; and thoroughly guarantee + A settled order to the divers states; + Thus rearing breachless barriers in each realm + Against the thrust of his usurping hand. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + They trow not what is shaping otherwhere + The while they talk this stoutly! + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + Bid me go + And join them, and all blandly kindle them + By bringing, ere material transit can, + A new surprise! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Yea, for a moment, wouldst. + + [The Spirit of Rumour enters the apartment in the form of a + personage of fashion, newly arrived. He advances and addresses + the group.] + + + SPIRIT + + The Treaty moves all tongues to-night.--Ha, well-- + So much on paper! + + + GENTLEMAN + + What on land and sea? + You look, old friend, full primed with latest thence. + + + SPIRIT + + Yea, this. The Italy our mighty pact + Delivers from the French and Bonaparte + Makes haste to crown him!--Turning from Boulogne + He speeds toward Milan, there to glory him + In second coronation by the Pope, + And set upon his irrepressible brow + Lombardy's iron crown. + + [The Spirit of Rumour mingles with the throng, moves away, and + disappears.] + + + LADY + + Fair Italy, + Alas, alas! + + + LORD + + Yet thereby English folk + Are freed him.--Faith, as ancient people say, + It's an ill wind that blows good luck to none! + + + MINISTER + + Who is your friend that drops so airily + This precious pinch of salt on our raw skin? + + + GENTLEMAN + + Why, Norton. You know Norton well enough? + + + MINISTER + + Nay, 'twas not he. Norton of course I know. + I thought him Stewart for a moment, but--- + + + LADY + + But I well scanned him--'twas Lord Abercorn; + For, said I to myself, “O quaint old beau, + To sleep in black silk sheets so funnily:-- + That is, if the town rumour on't be true.” + + + 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 + + Thou reasonest ever thuswise--even if + A self-formed force had urged his loud career. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Do not the prelate's accents falter thin, + His lips with inheld laughter grow deformed, + While blessing one whose aim is but to win + The golden seats that other b---s have warmed? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Soft, jester; scorn not puppetry so skilled, + Even made to feel by one men call the Dame. + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + Yea; that they feel, and puppetry remain, + Is an owned flaw in her consistency + Men love to dub Dame Nature--that lay-shape + They use to hang phenomena upon-- + Whose deftest mothering in fairest sphere + Is girt about by terms inexorable! + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + The lady's remark is apposite, and reminds me that I may as well + hold my tongue as desired. For if my casual scorn, Father Years, + should set thee trying to prove that there is any right or reason + in the Universe, thou wilt not accomplish it by Doomsday! Small + blame to her, however; she must cut her coat according to her + cloth, as they would say below there. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + O would that I could move It to enchain thee, + And shut thee up a thousand years!--[to cite + A grim terrestrial tale of one thy like] + Thou Iago of the Incorporeal World, + “As they would say below there.” + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Would thou couldst! + But move That scoped above percipience, Sire, + It cannot be! + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + The spectacle proceeds. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + And we may as well give all attention thereto, for the evils at + work in other continents are not worth eyesight by comparison. + + [The ceremonial in the Cathedral continues. NAPOLEON goes to + the front of the altar, ascends the steps, and, taking up the + crown of Lombardy, places it on his head.] + + + NAPOLEON + + 'Tis God has given it to me. So be it. + Let any who shall touch it now beware! [Reverberations of applause.] + + [The Sacrament of the Mass. NAPOLEON reads the Coronation Oath in + a loud voice.] + + + HERALDS + + Give ear! Napoleon, Emperor of the French + And King of Italy, is crowned and throned! + + + CONGREGATION + + Long live the Emperor and King. Huzza! + + [Music. The Te Deum.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + That vulgar stroke of vauntery he displayed + In planting on his brow the Lombard crown, + Means sheer erasure of the Luneville pacts, + And lets confusion loose on Europe's peace + For many an undawned year! From this rash hour + Austria but waits her opportunity + By secret swellings of her armaments + To link her to his foes.--I'll speak to him. + + [He throws a whisper into NAPOLEON'S ear.] + + Lieutenant Bonaparte, + Would it not seemlier be to shut thy heart + To these unhealthy splendours?--helmet thee + For her thou swar'st-to first, fair Liberty? + + + NAPOLEON + + Who spoke to me? + + + ARCHBISHOP + + Not I, Sire. Not a soul. + + + NAPOLEON + + Dear Josephine, my queen, didst call my name? + + + JOSEPHINE + + I spoke not, Sire. + + + NAPOLEON + + Thou didst not, tender spouse; + I know it. Such harsh utterance was not thine. + It was aggressive Fancy, working spells + Upon a mind o'erwrought! + + [The service closes. The clergy advance with the canopy to the + foot of the throne, and the procession forms to return to the + Palace.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Officious sprite, + Thou art young, and dost not heed the Cause of things + Which some of us have inkled to thee here; + Else wouldst thou not have hailed the Emperor, + Whose acts do but outshape Its governing. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + I feel, Sire, as I must! This tale of Will + And Life's impulsion by Incognizance + I cannot take! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Let me then once again + Show to thy sceptic eye the very streams + And currents of this all-inhering Power, + And bring conclusion to thy unbelief. + + [The scene assumes the preternatural transparency before mentioned, + and there is again beheld as it were the interior of a brain which + seems to manifest the volitions of a Universal Will, of whose + tissues the personages of the action form portion.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Enough. And yet for very sorriness + I cannot own the weird phantasma real! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Affection ever was illogical. + + + SPIRIT IRONIC [aside] + + How should the Sprite own to such logic--a mere juvenile-- who only + came into being in what the earthlings call their Tertiary Age! + + [The scene changes. The exterior of the Cathedral takes the place + of the interior, and the point of view recedes, the whole fabric + smalling into distance and becoming like a rare, delicately carved + alabaster ornament. The city itself sinks to miniature, the Alps + show afar as a white corrugation, the Adriatic and the Gulf of + Genoa appear on this and on that hand, with Italy between them, + till clouds cover the panorama.] + + + + +ACT SECOND + + + SCENE I + + THE DOCKYARD, GIBRALTAR + + [The Rock is seen rising behind the town and the Alameda Gardens, + and the English fleet rides at anchor in the Bay, across which the + Spanish shore from Algeciras to Carnero Point shuts in the West. + Southward over the Strait is the African coast.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Our migratory Proskenion now presents + An outlook on the storied Kalpe Rock, + As preface to the vision of the Fleets + Spanish and French, linked for fell purposings. + + + RECORDING ANGEL [reciting] + + Their motions and manoeuvres, since the fame + Of Bonaparte's enthronment at Milan + Swept swift through Europe's dumbed communities, + Have stretched the English mind to wide surmise. + Many well-based alarms [which strange report + Much aggravates] as to the pondered blow, + Flutter the public pulse; all points in turn-- + Malta, Brazil, Wales, Ireland, British Ind-- + Being held as feasible for force like theirs, + Of lavish numbers and unrecking aim. + + “Where, where is Nelson?” questions every tongue;-- + “How views he so unparalleled a scheme?” + Their slow uncertain apprehensions ask. + “When Villeneuve puts to sea with all his force, + What may he not achieve, if swift his course!” + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + I'll call in Nelson, who has stepped ashore + For the first time these thrice twelvemonths and more, + And with him one whose insight has alone + Pierced the real project of Napoleon. + + [Enter NELSON and COLLINGWOOD, who pace up and down.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Note Nelson's worn-out features. Much has he + Suffered from ghoulish ghast anxiety! + + + NELSON + + In short, dear Coll, the letter which you wrote me + Had so much pith that I was fain to see you; + For I am sure that you indeed divine + The true intent and compass of a plot + Which I have spelled in vain. + + + COLLINGWOOD + + I weighed it thus: + Their flight to the Indies being to draw us off, + That and no more, and clear these coasts of us-- + The standing obstacle to his device-- + He cared not what was done at Martinique, + Or where, provided that the general end + Should not be jeopardized--that is to say, + The full-united squadron's quick return.-- + Gravina and Villeneuve, once back to Europe, + Can straight make Ferrol, raise there the blockade, + Then haste to Brest, there to relieve Ganteaume, + And next with four-or five-and fifty sail + Bear down upon our coast as they see fit.-- + I read they aim to strike at Ireland still, + As formerly, and as I wrote to you. + + + NELSON + + So far your thoughtful and sagacious words + Have hit the facts. But 'tis no Irish bay + The villains aim to drop their anchors in; + My word for it: they make the Wessex shore, + And this vast squadron handled by Villeneuve + Is meant to cloak the passage of their strength, + Massed on those transports--we being kept elsewhere + By feigning forces.--Good God, Collingwood, + I must be gone! Yet two more days remain + Ere I can get away.--I must be gone! + + + COLLINGWOOD + + Wherever you may go to, my dear lord, + You carry victory with you. Let them launch, + Your name will blow them back, as sou'west gales + The gulls that beat against them from the shore. + + + NELSON + + Good Collingwood, I know you trust in me; + But ships are ships, and do not kindly come + Out of the slow docks of the Admiralty + Like wharfside pigeons when they are whistled for:-- + And there's a damned disparity of force, + Which means tough work awhile for you and me! + + [The Spirit of the Years whispers to NELSON.] + + And I have warnings, warnings, Collingwood, + That my effective hours are shortening here; + Strange warnings now and then, as 'twere within me, + Which, though I fear them not, I recognize!... + However, by God's help, I'll live to meet + These foreign boasters; yea, I'll finish them; + And then--well, Gunner Death may finish me! + + COLLINGWOOD + + View not your life so gloomily, my lord: + One charmed, a needed purpose to fulfil! + + + NELSON + + Ah, Coll. Lead bullets are not all that wound.... + I have a feeling here of dying fires, + A sense of strong and deep unworded censure, + Which, compassing about my private life, + Makes all my public service lustreless + In my own eyes.--I fear I am much condemned + For those dear Naples and Palermo days, + And her who was the sunshine of them all!... + He who is with himself dissatisfied, + Though all the world find satisfaction in him, + Is like a rainbow-coloured bird gone blind, + That gives delight it shares not. Happiness? + It's the philosopher's stone no alchemy + Shall light on this world I am weary of.-- + Smiling I'd pass to my long home to-morrow + Could I with honour, and my country's gain. + --But let's adjourn. I waste your hours ashore + By such ill-timed confessions! + + [They pass out of sight, and the scene closes.] + + + + SCENE II. + + OFF FERROL + + [The French and Spanish combined squadrons. On board the French + admiral's flag-ship. VILLENEUVE is discovered in his cabin, writing + a letter.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + He pens in fits, with pallid restlessness, + Like one who sees Misfortune walk the wave, + And can nor face nor flee it. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + He indites + To his long friend the minister Decres + Words that go heavily!... + + + VILLENEUVE [writing] + + “I am made the arbiter in vast designs + Whereof I see black outcomes. Do I this + Or do I that, success, that loves to jilt + Her anxious wooer for some careless blade, + Will not reward me. For, if I must pen it, + Demoralized past prayer in the marine-- + Bad masts, bad sails, bad officers, bad men; + We cling to naval technics long outworn, + And time and opportunity do not avail me + To take up new. I have long suspected such, + But till I saw my helps, the Spanish ships, + I hoped somewhat.--Brest is my nominal port; + Yet if so, Calder will again attack-- + Now reinforced by Nelson or Cornwallis-- + And shatter my whole fleet.... Shall I admit + That my true inclination and desire + Is to make Cadiz straightway, and not Brest? + Alas! thereby I fail the Emperor; + But shame the navy less.-- + + “Your friend, VILLENEUVE” + + [GENERAL LAURISTON enters.] + + + LAURISTON + + Admiral, my missive to the Emperor, + Which I shall speed by special courier + From Ferrol this near eve, runs thus and thus:-- + “Gravina's ships, in Ferrol here at hand, + Embayed but by a temporary wind, + Are all we now await. Combined with these + We sail herefrom to Brest; there promptly give + Cornwallis battle, and release Ganteaume; + Thence, all united, bearing Channelwards: + A step that sets in motion the first wheel + In the proud project of your Majesty + Now to be engined to the very close, + To wit: that a French fleet shall enter in + And hold the Channel four-and-twenty hours.”-- + Such clear assurance to the Emperor + That our intent is modelled on his will + I hasten to dispatch to him forthwith.[4] + + + VILLENEUVE + + Yes, Lauriston. I sign to every word. + + [Lauriston goes out. VILLENEUVE remains at his table in reverie.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + We may impress him under visible shapes + That seem to shed a silent circling doom; + He's such an one as can be so impressed, + And this much is among our privileges, + Well bounded as they be.--Let us draw near him. + + [The Spirits of Years and of the Pities take the form of sea-birds, + which alight on the stern-balcony of VILLENEUVE's ship, immediately + outside his cabin window. VILLENEUVE after a while looks up and + sees the birds watching him with large piercing eyes.] + + + VILLENEUVE + + My apprehensions even outstep their cause, + As though some influence smote through yonder pane. + + [He gazes listlessly, and resumes his broodings.] + + ---Why dared I not disclose to him my thought, + As nightly worded by the whistling shrouds, + That Brest will never see our battled hulls + Helming to north in pomp of cannonry + To take the front in this red pilgrimage! + ---If so it were, now, that I'd screen my skin + From risks of bloody business in the brunt, + My acts could scarcely wear a difference. + Yet I would die to-morrow--not ungladly-- + So far removed is carcase-care from me. + For no self do these apprehensions spring, + But for the cause.--Yes, rotten is our marine, + Which, while I know, the Emperor knows not, + And the pale secret chills! Though some there be + Would beard contingencies and buffet all, + I'll not command a course so conscienceless. + Rather I'll stand, and face Napoleon's rage + When he shall learn what mean the ambiguous lines + That facts have forced from me. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES [to the Spirit of Years] + + O Eldest-born of the Unconscious Cause-- + If such thou beest, as I can fancy thee-- + Why dost thou rack him thus? Consistency + Might be preserved, and yet his doom remain. + His olden courage is without reproach; + Albeit his temper trends toward gaingiving! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + I say, as I have said long heretofore, + I know but narrow freedom. Feel'st thou not + We are in Its hand, as he?--Here, as elsewhere, + We do but as we may; no further dare. + + [The birds disappear, and the scene is lost behind sea-mist.] + + + + SCENE III + + THE CAMP AND HARBOUR OF BOULOGNE + + [The English coast in the distance. Near the Tour d'Ordre stands + a hut, with sentinels and aides outside; it is NAPOLEON's temporary + lodging when not at his headquarters at the Chateau of Pont-de- + Briques, two miles inland.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + A courier arrives with dispatches, and enters the Emperor's quarters, + whence he emerges and goes on with other dispatches to the hut of + DECRES, lower down. Immediately after, NAPOLEON comes out from his + hut with a paper in his hand, and musingly proceeds towards an + eminence commanding the Channel. + + Along the shore below are forming in a far-reaching line more + than a hundred thousand infantry. On the downs in the rear of + the camps fifteen thousand cavalry are manoeuvring, their + accoutrements flashing in the sun like a school of mackerel. + The flotilla lies in and around the port, alive with moving + figures. + + With his head forward and his hands behind him the Emperor surveys + these animated proceedings in detail, but more frequently turns his + face toward the telegraph on the cliff to the southwest, erected to + signal when VILLENEUVE and the combined squadrons shall be visible + on the west horizon. + + He summons one of the aides, who descends to the hut of DECRES. + DECRES comes out from his hut, and hastens to join the Emperor. + Dumb show ends. + + [NAPOLEON and DECRES advance to the foreground of the scene.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Decres, this action with Sir Robert Calder + Three weeks ago, whereof we dimly heard, + And clear details of which I have just unsealed, + Is on the whole auspicious for our plan. + It seems that twenty of our ships and Spain's-- + None over eighty-gunned, and some far less-- + Engaged the English off Cape Finisterre + With fifteen vessels of a hundred each. + We coolly fought and orderly as they, + And, but for mist, we had closed with victory. + Two English were much mauled, some Spanish damaged, + And Calder then drew off with his two wrecks + And Spain's in tow, we giving chase forthwith. + Not overtaking him our admiral, + Having the coast clear for his purposes, + Entered Coruna, and found order there + To open the port of Brest and come on hither. + Thus hastes the moment when the double fleet + Of Villeneuve and of Ganteaume should appear. + + [He looks again towards the telegraph.] + + + DECRES [with hesitation] + + And should they not appear, your Majesty? + + + NAPOLEON + + Not? But they will; and do it early, too! + There's nothing hinders them. My God, they must, + For I have much before me when this stroke + At England's dealt. I learn from Talleyrand + That Austrian preparations threaten hot, + While Russia's hostile schemes are ripening, + And shortly must be met.--My plan is fixed: + I am prepared for each alternative. + If Villeneuve come, I brave the British coast, + Convulse the land with fear ['tis even now + So far distraught, that generals cast about + To find new modes of warfare; yea, design + Carriages to transport their infantry!].-- + Once on the English soil I hold it firm, + Descend on London, and the while my men + Salute the dome of Paul's I cut the knot + Of all Pitt's coalitions; setting free + From bondage to a cold manorial caste + A people who await it. + + [They stand and regard the chalky cliffs of England, till NAPOLEON + resumes]: + + Should it be + Even that my admirals fail to keep the tryst-- + A thing scarce thinkable, when all's reviewed-- + I strike this seaside camp, cross Germany, + With these two hundred thousand seasoned men, + And pause not till within Vienna's walls + I cry checkmate. Next, Venice, too, being taken, + And Austria's other holdings down that way, + The Bourbons also driven from Italy, + I strike at Russia--each in turn, you note, + Ere they can act conjoined. + Report to me + What has been scanned to-day upon the main, + And on your passage down request them there + To send Daru this way. + + + DECRES [as he withdraws] + + The Emperor can be sanguine. Scarce can I. + His letters are more promising than mine. + Alas, alas, Villeneuve, my dear old friend, + Why do you pen me this at such a time! + + [He retires reading VILLENEUVE'S letter. The Emperor walks up and + down till DARU, his private secretary, joins him.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Come quick, Daru; sit down upon the grass, + And write whilst I am in mind. + + First to Villeneuve:-- + + “I trust, Vice-Admiral, that before this date + Your fleet has opened Brest, and gone. If not, + These lines will greet you there. But pause not, pray: + Waste not a moment dallying. Sail away: + Once bring my coupled squadrons Channelwards + And England's soil is ours. All's ready here, + The troops alert, and every store embarked. + Hold the nigh sea but four-and-twenty hours + And our vast end is gained.” + + Now to Ganteaume:-- + + “My telegraphs will have made known to you + My object and desire to be but this, + That you forbid Villeneuve to lose an hour + In getting fit and putting forth to sea, + To profit by the fifty first-rate craft + Wherewith I now am bettered. Quickly weigh, + And steer you for the Channel with all your strength. + I count upon your well-known character, + Your enterprize, your vigour, to do this. + Sail hither, then; and we will be avenged + For centuries of despite and contumely.” + + + DARU + + Shall a fair transcript, Sire, be made forthwith? + + + NAPOLEON + + This moment. And the courier will depart + And travel without pause. + + [DARU goes to his office a little lower down, and the Emperor + lingers on the cliffs looking through his glass. + + The point of view shifts across the Channel, the Boulogne cliffs + sinking behind the water-line.] + + + + SCENE IV + + SOUTH WESSEX. A RIDGE-LIKE DOWN NEAR THE COAST + + [The down commands a wide view over the English Channel in front + of it, including the popular Royal watering-place, with the Isle + of Slingers and its roadstead, where men-of-war and frigates are + anchored. The hour is ten in the morning, and the July sun glows + upon a large military encampment round about the foreground, and + warms the stone field-walls that take the place of hedges here. + + Artillery, cavalry, and infantry, English and Hanoverian, are + drawn up for review under the DUKE OF CUMBERLAND and officers + of the staff, forming a vast military array, which extends + three miles, and as far as the downs are visible. + + In the centre by the Royal Standard appears KING GEORGE on + horseback, and his suite. In a coach drawn by six cream- + coloured Hanoverian horses, QUEEN CHARLOTTE sits with three + Princesses; in another carriage with four horses are two more + Princesses. There are also present with the Royal Party the + LORD CHANCELLOR, LORD MULGRAVE, COUNT MUNSTER, and many other + luminaries of fashion and influence. + + The Review proceeds in dumb show; and the din of many bands + mingles with the cheers. The turf behind the saluting-point + is crowded with carriages and spectators on foot.] + + + A SPECTATOR + + And you've come to the sight, like the King and myself? Well, one + fool makes many. What a mampus o' folk it is here to-day! And what + a time we do live in, between wars and wassailings, the goblin o' + Boney, and King George in flesh and blood! + + + SECOND SPECTATOR + + Yes. I wonder King George is let venture down on this coast, where + he might be snapped up in a moment like a minney by a her'n, so near + as we be to the field of Boney's vagaries! Begad, he's as like to + land here as anywhere. Gloucester Lodge could be surrounded, and + George and Charlotte carried off before he could put on his hat, or + she her red cloak and pattens! + + + THIRD SPECTATOR + + 'Twould be so such joke to kidnap 'em as you think. Look at the + frigates down there. Every night they are drawn up in a line + across the mouth of the Bay, almost touching each other; and + ashore a double line of sentinels, well primed with beer and + ammunition, one at the water's edge and the other on the + Esplanade, stretch along the whole front. Then close to the + Lodge a guard is mounted after eight o'clock; there be pickets + on all the hills; at the Harbour mouth is a battery of twenty + four-pounders; and over-right 'em a dozen six-pounders, and + several howitzers. And next look at the size of the camp of + horse and foot up here. + + + FIRST SPECTATOR + + Everybody however was fairly gallied this week when the King went + out yachting, meaning to be back for the theatre; and the eight or + nine o'clock came, and never a sign of him. I don't know when 'a + did land; but 'twas said by all that it was a foolhardy pleasure + to take. + + + FOURTH SPECTATOR + + He's a very obstinate and comical old gentleman; and by all account + 'a wouldn't make port when asked to. + + + SECOND SPECTATOR + + Lard, Lard, if 'a were nabbed, it wouldn't make a deal of difference! + We should have nobody to zing, and play singlestick to, and grin at + through horse-collars, that's true. And nobody to sign our few + documents. But we should rub along some way, goodnow. + + + FIRST SPECTATOR + + Step up on this barrow; you can see better. The troopers now passing + are the York Hussars--foreigners to a man, except the officers--the + same regiment the two young Germans belonged to who were shot four + years ago. Now come the Light Dragoons; what a time they take to + get all past! Well, well! this day will be recorded in history. + + + SECOND SPECTATOR + + Or another soon to follow it! [He gazes over the Channel.] There's + not a speck of an enemy upon that shiny water yet; but the Brest + fleet is zaid to have put to sea, to act in concert with the army + crossing from Boulogne; and if so the French will soon be here; when + God save us all! I've took to drinking neat, for, say I, one may + as well have innerds burnt out as shot out, and 'tis a good deal + pleasanter for the man that owns 'em. They say that a cannon-ball + knocked poor Jim Popple's maw right up into the futtock-shrouds at + the Nile, where 'a hung like a nightcap out to dry. Much good to + him his obeying his old mother's wish and refusing his allowance + o' rum! + + [The bands play and the Review continues till past eleven o'clock. + Then follows a sham fight. At noon precisely the royal carriages + draw off the ground into the highway that leads down to the town + and Gloucester Lodge, followed by other equipages in such numbers + that the road is blocked. A multitude comes after on foot. + Presently the vehicles manage to proceed to the watering-place, and + the troops march away to the various camps as a sea-mist cloaks the + perspective.] + + + + SCENE V + + THE SAME. RAINBARROW'S BEACON, EGDON HEATH + + [Night in mid-August of the same summer. A lofty ridge of + heathland reveals itself dimly, terminating in an abrupt slope, + at the summit of which are three tumuli. On the sheltered side + of the most prominent of these stands a hut of turves with a + brick chimney. In front are two ricks of fuel, one of heather + and furze for quick ignition, the other of wood, for slow burning. + Something in the feel of the darkness and in the personality of + the spot imparts a sense of uninterrupted space around, the view + by day extending from the cliffs of the Isle of Wight eastward + to Blackdon Hill by Deadman's Bay westward, and south across the + Valley of the Froom to the ridge that screens the Channel. + + Two men with pikes loom up, on duty as beacon-keepers beside the + ricks.] + + + OLD MAN + + Now, Jems Purchess, once more mark my words. Black'on is the point + we've to watch, and not Kingsbere; and I'll tell 'ee for why. If he + do land anywhere hereabout 'twill be inside Deadman's Bay, and the + signal will straightaway come from Black'on. But there thou'st + stand, glowering and staring with all thy eyes at Kingsbere! I tell + 'ee what 'tis, Jem Purchess, your brain is softening; and you be + getting too old for business of state like ours! + + + YOUNG MAN + + You've let your tongue wrack your few rames of good breeding, John. + + + OLD MAN + + The words of my Lord-Lieutenant was, whenever you see Kingsbere-Hill + Beacon fired to the eastward, or Black'on to the westward, light up; + and keep your second fire burning for two hours. Was that our + documents or was it not? + + + YOUNG MAN + + I don't gainsay it. And so I keep my eye on Kingsbere because that's + most likely o' the two, says I. + + + OLD MAN + + That shows the curious depths of your ignorance. However, I'll have + patience, and say on. Didst ever larn geography? + + + YOUNG MAN + + No. Nor no other corrupt practices. + + + OLD MAN + + Tcht-tcht!--Well, I'll have patience, and put it to him in another + form. Dost know the world is round--eh? I warrant dostn't! + + + YOUNG MAN + + I warrant I do! + + + OLD MAN + + How d'ye make that out, when th'st never been to school? + + + YOUNG MAN + + I larned it at church, thank God. + + + OLD MAN + + Church? What have God A'mighty got to do with profane knowledge? + Beware that you baint blaspheming, Jems Purchess! + + + YOUNG MAN + + I say I did, whether or no! 'Twas the zingers up in gallery that + I had it from. They busted out that strong with “the round world + and they that dwell therein,” that we common fokes down under could + do no less than believe 'em. + + + OLD MAN + + Canst be sharp enough in the wrong place as usual--I warrant canst! + However, I'll have patience with 'en and say on!--Suppose, now, my + hat is the world; and there, as might be, stands the Camp of Belong, + where Boney is. The world goes round, so, and Belong goes round too. + Twelve hours pass; round goes the world still--so. Where's Belong + now? + + [A pause. Two other figures, a man's and a woman's, rise against + the sky out of the gloom.] + + + OLD MAN [shouldering his pike] + + Who goes there? Friend or foe, in the King's name! + + + WOMAN + + Piece o' trumpery! “Who goes” yourself! What d'ye talk o', John + Whiting! Can't your eyes earn their living any longer, then, that + you don't know your own neighbours? 'Tis Private Cantle of the + Locals and his wife Keziar, down at Bloom's-End--who else should + it be! + + + OLD MAN [lowering his pike] + + A form o' words, Mis'ess Cantle, no more; ordained by his Majesty's + Gover'ment to be spoke by all we on sworn duty for the defence o' the + country. Strict rank-and-file rules is our only horn of salvation in + these times.--But, my dear woman, why ever have ye come lumpering up + to Rainbarrows at this time o' night? + + + WOMAN + + We've been troubled with bad dreams, owing to the firing out at sea + yesterday; and at last I could sleep no more, feeling sure that + sommat boded of His coming. And I said to Cantle, I'll ray myself, + and go up to Beacon, and ask if anything have been heard or seen to- + night. And here we be. + + + OLD MAN + + Not a sign or sound--all's as still as a churchyard. And how is + your good man? + + + PRIVATE [advancing] + + Clk. I be all right! I was in the ranks, helping to keep the ground + at the review by the King this week. We was a wonderful sight-- + wonderful! The King said so again and again.--Yes, there was he, and + there was I, though not daring to move a' eyebrow in the presence of + Majesty. I have come home on a night's leave--off there again to- + morrow. Boney's expected every day, the Lord be praised! Yes, our + hopes are to be fulfilled soon, as we say in the army. + + + OLD MAN + + There, there, Cantle; don't ye speak quite so large, and stand + so over-upright. Your back is as holler as a fire-dog's. Do ye + suppose that we on active service here don't know war news? Mind + you don't go taking to your heels when the next alarm comes, as you + did at last year's. + + + PRIVATE + + That had nothing to do with fighting, for I'm as bold as a lion when + I'm up, and “Shoulder Fawlocks!” sounds as common as my own name to + me. 'Twas--- [lowering his voice.] Have ye heard? + + + OLD MAN + + To be sure we have. + + + PRIVATE + + Ghastly, isn't it! + + + OLD MAN + + Ghastly! Frightful! + + + YOUNG MAN [to Private] + + He don't know what it is! That's his pride and puffery. What is it + that' so ghastly--hey? + + + PRIVATE + + Well, there, I can't tell it. 'Twas that that made the whole eighty + of our company run away--though we be the bravest of the brave in + natural jeopardies, or the little boys wouldn't run after us and + call us and call us the “Bang-up-Locals.” + + + WOMAN [in undertones] + + I can tell you a word or two on't. It is about His victuals. They + say that He lives upon human flesh, and has rashers o' baby every + morning for breakfast--for all the world like the Cernal Giant in + old ancient times! + + + YOUNG MAN + + Ye can't believe all ye hear. + + + PRIVATE + + I only believe half. And I only own--such is my challengeful + character--that perhaps He do eat pagan infants when He's in the + desert. But not Christian ones at home. Oh no--'tis too much. + + + WOMAN + + Whether or no, I sometimes--God forgive me!--laugh wi' horror at + the queerness o't, till I am that weak I can hardly go round the + house. He should have the washing of 'em a few times; I warrant + 'a wouldn't want to eat babies any more! + + [A silence, during which they gaze around at the dark dome of the + starless sky.] + + + YOUNG MAN + + There'll be a change in the weather soon, by the look o't. I can + hear the cows moo in Froom Valley as if I were close to 'em, and + the lantern at Max Turnpike is shining quite plain. + + + OLD MAN + + Well, come in and taste a drop o' sommat we've got here, that will + warm the cockles of your heart as ye wamble homealong. We housed + eighty tuns last night for them that shan't be named--landed at + Lullwind Cove the night afore, though they had a narrow shave with + the riding-officers this run. + + [They make toward the hut, when a light on the west horizon becomes + visible, and quickly enlarges.] + + + YOUNG MAN + + He's come! + + + OLD MAN + + Come he is, though you do say it! This, then, is the beginning of + what England's waited for! + + [They stand and watch the light awhile.] + + + YOUNG MAN + + Just what you was praising the Lord for by-now, Private Cantle. + + + PRIVATE + + My meaning was--- + + + WOMAN [simpering] + + Oh that I hadn't married a fiery sojer, to make me bring fatherless + children into the world, all through his dreadful calling! Why + didn't a man of no sprawl content me! + + + OLD MAN [shouldering his pike] + + We can't heed your innocent pratings any longer, good neighbours, + being in the King's service, and a hot invasion on. Fall in, fall + in, mate. Straight to the tinder-box. Quick march! + + [The two men hasten to the hut, and are heard striking a flint + and steel. Returning with a lit lantern they ignite a blaze. + The private of the Locals and his wife hastily retreat by the + light of the flaming beacon, under which the purple rotundities + of the heath show like bronze, and the pits like the eye-sockets + of a skull.] + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + This is good, and spells blood. [To the Chorus of the Years.] I + assume that It means to let us carry out this invasion with pleasing + slaughter, so as not to disappoint my hope? + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + We carry out? Nay, but should we + Ordain what bloodshed is to be it! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + The Immanent, that urgeth all, + Rules what may or may not befall! + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Ere systemed suns were globed and lit + The slaughters of the race were writ, + + + SEMICHORUS II + + And wasting wars, by land and sea, + Fixed, like all else, immutably! + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Well; be it so. My argument is that War makes rattling good + history; but Peace is poor reading. So I back Bonaparte for + the reason that he will give pleasure to posterity. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Gross hypocrite! + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS + + We comprehend him not. + + [The day breaks over the heathery upland, on which the beacon + is still burning. The morning reveals the white surface of a + highway which, coming from the royal watering-place beyond the + hills, stretched towards the outskirts of the heath and passes + away eastward.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + Moving figures and vehicles dot the surface of the road, all + progressing in one direction, away from the coast. In the + foreground the shapes appear as those of civilians, mostly on + foot, but many in gigs and tradesmen's carts and on horseback. + When they reach an intermediate hill some pause and look back; + others enter on the next decline landwards without turning + their heads. + + From the opposite horizon numerous companies of volunteers, in the + local uniform of red with green facings,[5] are moving coastwards in + companies; as are also irregular bodies of pikemen without uniform; + while on the upper slopes of the downs towards the shore regiments + of the line are visible, with cavalry and artillery; all passing + over to the coast. + + At a signal from the Chief Intelligences two Phantoms of Rumour enter + on the highway in the garb of country-men. + + + FIRST PHANTOM [to Pedestrians] + + Wither so fast, good neighbours, and before breakfast, too? Empty + bellies be bad to vamp on. + + + FIRST PEDESTRIAN + + He's landed west'ard, out by Abbot's Beach. And if you have property + you'll save it and yourselves, as we are doing! + + + SECOND PEDESTRIAN + + All yesterday the firing at Boulogne + Was like the seven thunders heard in Heaven + When the fierce angel spoke. So did he draw + Full-manned, flat-bottomed for the shallowest shore, + Dropped down to west, and crossed our frontage here. + Seen from above they specked the water-shine + As will a flight of swallows toward dim eve, + Descending on a smooth and loitering stream + To seek some eyot's sedge. + + + SECOND PHANTOM + + We are sent to enlighten you and ease your soul. + Even now a courier canters to the port + To check the baseless scare. + + + FIRST PEDESTRIAN + + These be inland men who, I warrant 'ee, don't know a lerret from a + lighter! Let's take no heed of such, comrade; and hurry on! + + + FIRST PHANTOM + + Will you not hear + That what was seen behind the midnight mist, + Their oar-blades tossing twinkles to the moon, + Was but a fleet of fishing-craft belated + By reason of the vastness of their haul? + + + FIRST PEDESTRIAN + + Hey? And d'ye know it?--Now I look back to the top o' Rudgeway + the folk seem as come to a pause there.--Be this true, never again + do I stir my stumps for any alarm short of the Day of Judgment! + Nine times has my rheumatical rest been broke in these last three + years by hues and cries of Boney upon us. 'Od rot the feller; + now he's made a fool of me once more, till my inside is like a + wash-tub, what wi' being so gallied, and running so leery!--But + how if you be one of the enemy, sent to sow these tares, so to + speak it, these false tidings, and coax us into a fancied safety? + Hey, neighbours? I don't, after all, care for this story! + + + SECOND PEDESTRIAN + + Onwards again! + If Boney's come, 'tis best to be away; + And if he's not, why, we've a holiday! + + [Exeunt Pedestrians. The Spirits of Rumour vanish, while the scene + seems to become involved in the smoke from the beacon, and slowly + disappears.[6]] + + + + +ACT THIRD + + + SCENE I + + BOULOGNE. THE CHATEAU AT PONT-DE-BRIQUES + + [A room in the Chateau, which is used as the Imperial quarters. + The EMPEROR NAPOLEON, and M. GASPARD MONGE, the mathematician + and philosopher, are seated at breakfast.] + + + OFFICER + + Monsieur the Admiral Decres awaits + A moment's audience with your Majesty, + Or now, or later. + + + NAPOLEON + + Bid him in at once-- + At last Villeneuve has raised the Brest blockade! + + [Enter DECRES.] + + What of the squadron's movements, good Decres? + Brest opened, and all sailing Channelwards, + Like swans into a creek at feeding-time? + + + DECRES + + Such news was what I'd hoped, your Majesty, + To send across this daybreak. But events + Have proved intractable, it seems, of late; + And hence I haste in person to report + The featless facts that just have dashed my--- + + + NAPOLEON [darkening] + + Well? + + + DECRES + + Sire, at the very juncture when the fleets + Sailed out from Ferrol, fever raged aboard + “L'Achille” and “l'Algeciras”: later on, + Mischief assailed our Spanish comrades' ships; + Several ran foul of neighbours; whose new hurts, + Being added to their innate clumsiness, + Gave hap the upper hand; and in quick course + Demoralized the whole; until Villeneuve, + Judging that Calder now with Nelson rode, + And prescient of unparalleled disaster + If he pushed on in so disjoint a trim, + Bowed to the inevitable; and thus, perforce, + Leaving to other opportunity + Brest and the Channel scheme, with vast regret + Steered southward into Cadiz. + + + NAPOLEON [having risen from the table] + + What!--Is, then, + My scheme of years to be disdained and dashed + By this man's like, a wretched moral coward, + Whom you must needs foist on me as one fit + For full command in pregnant enterprise! + + + MONGE [aside] + + I'm one too many here! Let me step out + Till this black squall blows over. Poor Decres. + Would that this precious project, disinterred + From naval archives of King Louis' reign, + Had ever lingered fusting where 'twas found.[7] + + [Exit Monge.] + + + NAPOLEON + + To help a friend you foul a country's fame!-- + Decres, not only chose you this Villeneuve, + But you have nourished secret sour opinions + Akin to his, and thereby helped to scathe + As stably based a project as this age + Has sunned to ripeness. Ever the French Marine + Have you decried, ever contrived to bring + Despair into the fleet! Why, this Villeneuve, + Your man, this rank incompetent, this traitor-- + Of whom I asked no more than fight and lose, + Provided he detain the enemy-- + A frigate is too great for his command! + what shall be said of one who, at a breath, + When a few casual sailors find them sick, + When falls a broken boom or slitten sail, + When rumour hints that Calder's tubs and Nelson's + May join, and bob about in company, + Is straightway paralyzed, and doubles back + On all his ripened plans!-- + Bring him, ay, bodily; hale him out from Cadiz, + Compel him up the Channel by main force, + And, having doffed him his supreme command, + Give the united squadrons to Ganteaume! + + + DECRES + + Your Majesty, while umbraged, righteously, + By an event my tongue dragged dry to tell, + Makes my hard situation over-hard + By your ascription to the actors in't + Of motives such and such. 'Tis not for me + To answer these reproaches, Sire, and ask + Why years-long mindfulness of France's fame + In things marine should win no confidence. + I speak; but am unable to convince! + + True is it that this man has been my friend + Since boyhood made us schoolmates; and I say + That he would yield the heel-drops of his heart + With joyful readiness this day, this hour, + To do his country service. Yet no less + Is it his drawback that he sees too far. + And there are times, Sire, when a shorter sight + Charms Fortune more. A certain sort of bravery + Some people have--to wit, this same Lord Nelson-- + Which is but fatuous faith in one's own star + Swoln to the very verge of childishness, + [Smugly disguised as putting trust in God, + A habit with these English folk]; whereby + A headstrong blindness to contingencies + Carries the actor on, and serves him well + In some nice issues clearer sight would mar. + Such eyeless bravery Villeneuve has not; + But, Sire, he is no coward. + + + NAPOLEON + + Well, have it so!--What are we going to do? + My brain has only one wish--to succeed! + + + DECRES + + My voice wanes weaker with you, Sire; is nought! + Yet these few words, as Minister of Marine, + I'll venture now.--My process would be thus:-- + Our projects for a junction of the fleets + Being well-discerned and read by every eye + Through long postponement, England is prepared. + I would recast them. Later in the year + Form sundry squadrons of this massive one, + Harass the English till the winter time, + Then rendezvous at Cadiz; where leave half + To catch the enemy's eye and call their cruizers, + While rounding Scotland with the other half, + You make the Channel by the eastern strait, + Cover the passage of our army-boats, + And plant the blow. + + + NAPOLEON + + And what if they perceive + Our Scottish route, and meet us eastwardly? + + + DECRES + + I have thought of it, and planned a countermove; + I'll write the scheme more clearly and at length, + And send it hither to your Majesty. + + + NAPOLEON + + Do so forthwith; and send me in Daru. + + [Exit DECRES. Re-enter MONGE.] + + Our breakfast, Monge, to-day has been cut short, + And these discussions on the ancient tongues + Wherein you shine, must yield to modern moils. + Nay, hasten not away; though feeble wills, + Incompetence, ay, imbecility, + In some who feign to serve the cause of France, + Do make me other than myself just now!-- + Ah--here's Daru. + + [DARU enters. MONGE takes his leave.] + + Daru, sit down and write. Yes, here, at once, + This room will serve me now. What think you, eh? + Villeneuve has just turned tail and run to Cadiz. + So quite postponed--perhaps even overthrown-- + My long-conned project against yonder shore + As 'twere a juvenile's snow-built device + But made for melting! Think of it, Daru,-- + My God, my God, how can I talk thereon! + A plan well judged, well charted, well upreared, + To end in nothing!... Sit you down and write. + + [NAPOLEON walks up and down, and resumes after a silence.] + + Write this.--A volte-face 'tis indeed!--Write, write! + + + DARU [holding pen to paper] + + I wait, your Majesty. + + + NAPOLEON + + First Bernadotte-- + Yes; “Bernadotte moves out from Hanover + Through Hesse upon Wurzburg and the Danube.-- + Marmont from Holland bears along the Rhine, + And joins at Mainz and Wurzburg Bernadotte... + + While these prepare their routes the army here + Will turn its back on Britain's tedious shore, + And, closing up with Augereau at Brest, + Set out full force due eastward.... + By the Black forest feign a straight attack, + The while our purpose is to skirt its left, + Meet in Franconia Bernadotte and Marmont; + Traverse the Danube somewhat down from Ulm; + Entrap the Austrian column by their rear; + Surround them, cleave them; roll upon Vienna, + Where, Austria settled, I engage the Tsar, + While Massena detains in Italy + The Archduke Charles. + + Foreseeing such might shape, + Each high-and by-way to the Danube hence + I have of late had measured, mapped, and judged; + Such spots as suit for depots chosen and marked; + Each regiment's daily pace and bivouac + Writ tablewise for ready reference; + All which itineraries are sent herewith.” + + So shall I crush the two gigantic sets + Upon the Empire, now grown imminent. + --Let me reflect.--First Bernadotte---but nay, + The courier to Marmont must go first. + Well, well.--The order of our march from hence + I will advise.... My knock at George's door + With bland inquiries why his royal hand + Withheld due answer to my friendly lines, + And tossed the irksome business to his clerks, + Is thus perforce delayed. But not for long. + Instead of crossing, thitherward I tour + By roundabout contrivance not less sure! + + + DARU + + I'll bring the writing to your Majesty. + + [NAPOLEON and DARU go out severally.] + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + Recording Angel, trace + This bold campaign his thought has spun apace-- + One that bids fair for immortality + Among the earthlings--if immortal deeds + May be ascribed to so extemporary + And transient a race! + It will be called, in rhetoric and rhyme, + As son to sire succeeds, + A model for the tactics of all time; + “The Great Campaign of that so famed year Five,” + By millions of mankind not yet alive. + + + + SCENE II + + THE FRONTIERS OF UPPER AUSTRIA AND BAVARIA + + [A view of the country from mid-air, at a point south of the + River Inn, which is seen as a silver thread, winding northward + between its junction with the Salza and the Danube, and forming + the boundaries of the two countries. The Danube shows itself as + a crinkled satin riband, stretching from left to right in the + far background of the picture, the Inn discharging its waters + into the larger river.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + A vast Austrian army creeps dully along the mid-distance, in + the detached masses and columns of a whitish cast. The columns + insensibly draw nearer to each other, and are seen to be converging + from the east upon the banks of the Inn aforesaid. + + + A RECORDING ANGEL [in recitative] + + This movement as of molluscs on a leaf, + Which from our vantage here we scan afar, + Is one manoeuvred by the famous Mack + To countercheck Napoleon, still believed + To be intent on England from Boulogne, + And heedless of such rallies in his rear. + Mack's enterprise is now to cross Bavaria-- + Beneath us stretched in ripening summer peace + As field unwonted for these ugly jars-- + + Outraged Bavaria, simmering in disquiet + At Munich down behind us, Isar-fringed, + And torn between his fair wife's hate of France + And his own itch to gird at Austrian bluff + For riding roughshod through his territory, + Wavers from this to that. The while Time hastes + The eastward streaming of Napoleon's host, + As soon we see. + + The silent insect-creep of the Austrian columns towards the banks of + the Inn continues to be seen till the view fades to nebulousness and + dissolves. + + + + SCENE III + + BOULOGNE. THE ST. OMER ROAD + + [It is morning at the end of August, and the road stretches out + of the town eastward. + + The divisions of the “Army-for-England” are making preparations + to march. Some portions are in marching order. Bands strike + up, and the regiments start on their journey towards the Rhine + and Danube. Bonaparte and his officers watch the movements from + an eminence. The soldiers, as they pace along under their eagles + with beaming eyes, sing “Le Chant du Depart,” and other martial + songs, shout “Vive l'Empereur!” and babble of repeating the days + of Italy, Egypt, Marengo, and Hohenlinden.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Anon to England! + + + CHORUS OF INTELLIGENCES [aerial music] + + If Time's weird threads so weave! + + [The scene as it lingers exhibits the gradual diminishing of + the troops along the roads through the undulating August + landscape, till each column is seen but as a train of dust; + and the disappearance of each marching mass over the eastern + horizon.] + + + + +ACT FOURTH + + + SCENE I + + KING GEORGE'S WATERING-PLACE, SOUTH WESSEX + + [A sunny day in autumn. A room in the red-brick royal residence + know as Gloucester Lodge.[8] + + At a front triple-lighted window stands a telescope on a tripod. + Through the open middle sash is visible the crescent-curved + expanse of the Bay as a sheet of brilliant translucent green, + on which ride vessels of war at anchor. On the left hand white + cliffs stretch away till they terminate in St. Aldhelm's Head, + and form a background to the level water-line on that side. In + the centre are the open sea and blue sky. A near headland rises + on the right, surmounted by a battery, over which appears the + remoter bald grey brow of the Isle of Slingers. + + In the foreground yellow sands spread smoothly, whereon there + are sundry temporary erections for athletic sports; and closer + at hand runs an esplanade on which a fashionable crowd is + promenading. Immediately outside the Lodge are companies of + soldiers, groups of officers, and sentries. + + Within the room the KING and PITT are discovered. The KING'S + eyes show traces of recent inflammation, and the Minister has + a wasted look.] + + + KING + + Yes, yes; I grasp your reasons, Mr. Pitt, + And grant you audience gladly. More than that, + Your visit to this shore is apt and timely, + And if it do but yield you needful rest + From fierce debate, and other strains of office + Which you and I in common have to bear, + 'Twill be well earned. The bathing is unmatched + Elsewhere in Europe,--see its mark on me!-- + The air like liquid life.--But of this matter: + What argue these late movements seen abroad? + What of the country now the session's past; + What of the country, eh? and of the war? + + + PITT + + The thoughts I have laid before your Majesty + Would make for this, in sum:-- + That Mr. Fox, Lord Grenville, and their friends, + Be straightway asked to join. With Melville gone, + With Sidmouth, and with Buckinghamshire too, + The steerage of affairs has stood of late + Somewhat provisional, as you, sir, know, + With stop-gap functions thrust on offices + Which common weal can tolerate but awhile. + So, for the weighty reasons I have urged, + I do repeat my most respectful hope + To win your Majesty's ungrudged assent + To what I have proposed. + + + KING + + But nothing, sure, + Has been more plain to all, dear Mr. Pitt, + Than that your own proved energy and scope + Is ample, without aid, to carry on + Our just crusade against the Corsican. + Why, then, go calling Fox and Grenville in? + Such helps we need not. Pray you think upon't, + And speak to me again.--We've had alarms + Making us skip like crackers at our heels, + That Bonaparte had landed close hereby. + + + PITT + + Such rumours come as regularly as harvest. + + + KING + + And now he has left Boulogne with all his host? + Was it his object to invade at all, + Or was his vast assemblage there a blind? + + + PITT + + Undoubtedly he meant invasion, sir, + Had fortune favoured. He may try it yet. + And, as I said, could we but close with Fox--- + + + KING + + But, but;--I ask, what is his object now? + Lord Nelson's Captain--Hardy--whose old home + Stands in a peaceful vale hard by us here-- + Who came two weeks ago to see his friends, + I talked to in this room a lengthy while. + He says our navy still is in thick night + As to the aims by sea of Bonaparte + Now the Boulogne attempt has fizzled out, + And what he schemes afloat with Spain combined. + The “Victory” lay that fortnight at Spithead, + And Nelson since has gone aboard and sailed; + Yes, sailed again. The “Royal Sovereign” follows, + And others her. Nelson was hailed and cheered + To huskiness while leaving Southsea shore, + Gentle and simple wildly thronging round. + + + PITT + + Ay, sir. Young women hung upon his arm, + And old ones blessed, and stroked him with their hands. + + + KING + + Ah--you have heard, of course. God speed him, Pitt. + + + PITT + + Amen, amen! + + + KING + + I read it as a thing + Of signal augury, and one which bodes + Heaven's confidence in me and in my line, + That I should rule as King in such an age!... + Well, well.--So this new march of Bonaparte's + Was unexpected, forced perchance on him? + + + PITT + + It may be so, your Majesty; it may. + Last noon the Austrian ambassador, + Whom I consulted ere I posted down, + Assured me that his latest papers word + How General Mack and eighty thousand men + Have made good speed across Bavaria + To wait the French and give them check at Ulm, + That fortress-frontier-town, entrenched and walled, + A place long chosen as a vantage-point + Whereon to encounter them as they outwind + From the blind shades and baffling green defiles + Of the Black Forest, worn with wayfaring. + Here Mack will intercept his agile foe + Hasting to meet the Russians in Bohemia, + And cripple him, if not annihilate. + + Thus now, sir, opens out this Great Alliance + Of Russia, Austria, England, whereto I + Have lent my earnest efforts through long months, + And the realm gives her money, ships, and men.-- + It claps a muffler round the Cock's steel spurs, + And leaves me sanguine on his overthrow. + But, then,--this coalition of resources + Demands a strong and active Cabinet + To aid your Majesty's directive hand; + And thus I urge again the said additions-- + These brilliant intellects of the other side + Who stand by Fox. With us conjoined, they--- + + + KING + + What, what, again--in face of my sound reasons! + Believe me, Pitt, you underrate yourself; + You do not need such aid. The splendid feat + Of banding Europe in a righteous cause + That you have achieved, so soon to put to shame + This wicked bombardier of dynasties + That rule by right Divine, goes straight to prove + We had best continue as we have begun, + And call no partners to our management. + To fear dilemmas horning up ahead + Is not your wont. Nay, nay, now, Mr. Pitt, + I must be firm. And if you love your King + You'll goad him not so rashly to embrace + This Fox-Grenville faction and its friends. + Rather than Fox, why, give me civil war! + Hey, what? But what besides? + + + PITT + + I say besides, sir,... nothing! + + [A silence.] + + + KING [cheerfully] + + The Chancellor's here, and many friends of mine: Lady Winchelsea, + Lord and Lady Chesterfield, Lady Bulkeley, General Garth, and Mr. + Phipps the oculist--not the least important to me. He is a worthy + and a skilful man. My eyes, he says, are as marvellously improved + in durability as I know them to be in power. I have arranged to go + to-morrow with the Princesses, and the Dukes of Cumberland, Sussex, + and Cambridge [who are also here] for a ride on the Ridgeway, and + through the Camp on the downs. You'll accompany us there? + + + PITT + + I am honoured by your Majesty's commands. + + [PITT looks resignedly out of the window.] + + What curious structure do I see outside, sir? + + + KING + + It's but a stage, a type of all the world. The burgesses have + arranged it in my honour. At six o'clock this evening there are + to be combats at single-stick to amuse the folk; four guineas + the prize for the man who breaks most heads. Afterward there + is to be a grinning match through horse-collars--a very humorous + sport which I must stay here and witness; for I am interested in + whatever entertains my subjects. + + + PITT + + Not one in all the land but knows it, sir. + + + KING + + Now, Mr. Pitt, you must require repose; + Consult your own convenience then, I beg, + On when you leave. + + PITT + + I thank your Majesty. + + [He departs as one whose purpose has failed, and the scene shuts.] + + + + SCENE II + + BEFORE THE CITY OF ULM + + [A prospect of the city from the east, showing in the foreground + a low-lying marshy country bounded in mid-distance by the banks + of the Danube, which, bordered by poplars and willows, flows + across the picture from the left to the Elchingen Bridge near + the right of the scene, and is backed by irregular heights and + terraces of espaliered vines. Between these and the river stands + the city, crowded with old gabled houses and surrounded by walls, + bastions, and a ditch, all the edifices being dominated by the + nave and tower of the huge Gothic Munster. + + On the most prominent of the heights at the back--the Michaelsberg + --to the upper-right of the view, is encamped the mass of the + Austrian army, amid half-finished entrenchments. Advanced posts + of the same are seen south-east of the city, not far from the + advanced corps of the French Grand-Army under SOULT, MARMONT, + LANNES, NEY, and DUPONT, which occupy in a semicircle the whole + breadth of the flat landscape in front, and extend across the + river to higher ground on the right hand of the panorama. + + Heavy mixed drifts of rain and snow are descending impartially + on the French and on the Austrians, the downfall nearly blotting + out the latter on the hills. A chill October wind wails across + the country, and the poplars yield slantingly to the gusts.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + Drenched peasants are busily at work, fortifying the heights of + the Austrian position in the face of the enemy. Vague companies + of Austrians above, and of the French below, hazy and indistinct + in the thick atmosphere, come and go without apparent purpose + near their respective lines. + + Closer at hand NAPOLEON, in his familiar blue-grey overcoat, rides + hither and thither with his marshals, haranguing familiarly the + bodies of soldiery as he passes them, and observing and pointing + out the disposition of the Austrians to his companions. + + Thicker sheets of rain fly across as the murk of evening increases, + which at length entirely obscures the prospect, and cloaks its + bleared lights and fires. + + + + SCENE III + + ULM. WITHIN THE CITY + + [The interior of the Austrian headquarters on the following + morning. A tempest raging without. + + GENERAL MACK, haggard and anxious, the ARCHDUKE FERDINAND, PRINCE + SCHWARZENBERG, GENERAL JELLACHICH, GENERALS RIESC, BIBERBACH, and + other field officers discovered, seated at a table with a map + spread out before them. A wood fire blazes between tall andirons + in a yawning fireplace. At every more than usually boisterous + gust of wind the smoke flaps into the room.] + + + MACK + + The accursed cunning of our adversary + Confounds all codes of honourable war, + Which ever have held as granted that the track + Of armies bearing hither from the Rhine-- + Whether in peace or strenuous invasion-- + Should pierce the Schwarzwald, and through Memmingen, + And meet us in our front. But he must wind + And corkscrew meanly round, where foot of man + Can scarce find pathway, stealing up to us + Thiefwise, by out back door! Nevertheless, + If English war-fleets be abreast Boulogne, + As these deserters tell, and ripe to land there, + It destines Bonaparte to pack him back + Across the Rhine again. We've but to wait, + And see him go. + + + ARCHDUKE + + But who shall say if these bright tales be true? + + + MACK + + Even then, small matter, your Imperial Highness; + The Russians near us daily, and must soon-- + Ay, far within the eight days I have named-- + Be operating to untie this knot, + If we hold on. + + + ARCHDUKE + + Conjectures these--no more; + I stomach not such waiting. Neither hope + Has kernel in it. I and my cavalry + With caution, when the shadow fall to-night, + Can bore some hole in this engirdlement; + Outpass the gate north-east; join General Werneck, + And somehow cut our way Bohemia-wards: + Well worth the hazard, in our straitened case! + + + MACK [firmly] + + The body of our force stays here with me. + And I am much surprised, your Highness, much, + You mark not how destructive 'tis to part! + If we wait on, for certain we should wait + In our full strength, compacted, undispersed + By such partition as your Highness plans. + + + SCHWARZENBERG + + There's truth in urging we should not divide, + But weld more closely.--Yet why stay at all? + Methinks there's but one sure salvation left, + To wit, that we conjunctly march herefrom, + And with much circumspection, towards the Tyrol. + The subtle often rack their wits in vain-- + Assay whole magazines of strategy-- + To shun ill loomings deemed insuperable, + When simple souls by stumbling up to them + Find the grim shapes but air. But let use grant + That the investing French so ring us in + As to leave not a span for such exploit; + Then go we--throw ourselves upon their steel, + And batter through, or die!-- + What say you, Generals? Speak your minds, I pray. + + + JELLACHICH + + I favour marching out--the Tyrol way. + + + RIESC + + Bohemia best! The route thereto is open. + + + ARCHDUKE + + My course is chosen. O this black campaign, + Which Pitt's alarmed dispatches pricked us to, + All unforseeing! Any risk for me + Rather than court humiliation here! + + [MACK has risen during the latter remarks, walked to the + window, and looked out at the rain. He returns with an air + of embarrassment.] + + + MACK [to Archduke] + + It is my privilege firmly to submit + That your Imperial Highness undertake + No venturous vaulting into risks unknown.-- + Assume that you, Sire, as you have proposed, + With your light regiments and the cavalry, + Detach yourself from us, to scoop a way + By circuits northwards through the Rauhe Alps + And Herdenheim, into Bohemia: + Reports all point that you will be attacked, + Enveloped, borne on to capitulate. + What worse can happen here?-- + Remember, Sire, the Emperor deputes me, + Should such a clash arise as has arisen, + To exercise supreme authority. + The honour of our arms, our race, demands + That none of your Imperial Highness' line + Be pounded prisoner by this vulgar foe, + Who is not France, but an adventurer, + Imposing on that country for his gain. + + + ARCHDUKE + + But it seems clear to me that loitering here + Is full as like to compass our surrender + As moving hence. And ill it therefore suits + The mood of one of my high temperature + To pause inactive while await me means + Of desperate cure for these so desperate ills! + + [The ARCHDUKE FERDINAND goes out. A troubled, silence follows, + during which the gusts call into the chimney, and raindrops spit + on the fire.] + + + SCHWARZENBERG + + The Archduke bears him shrewdly in this course. + We may as well look matters in the face, + And that we are cooped and cornered is most clear; + Clear it is, too, that but a miracle + Can work to loose us! I have stoutly held + That this man's three years' ostentatious scheme + To fling his army on the tempting shores + Of our Allies the English was a--well-- + Scarce other than a trick of thimble-rig + To still us into false security. + + + JELLACHICH + + Well, I know nothing. None needs list to me, + But, on the whole, to southward seems the course + For lunging, all in force, immediately. + + [Another pause.] + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + The Will throws Mack again into agitation: + Ho-ho--what he'll do now! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Nay, hard one, nay; + The clouds weep for him! + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + If he must; + And it's good antic at a vacant time! + + [MACK goes restlessly to the door, and is heard pacing about + the vestibule, and questioning the aides and other officers + gathered there.] + + + A GENERAL + + He wavers like this smoke-wreath that inclines + Or north, or south, as the storm-currents rule! + + + MACK [returning] + + Bring that deserter hither once again. + + [A French soldier is brought in, blindfolded and guarded. The + bandage is removed.] + + Well, tell us what he says. + + + AN OFFICER [after speaking to the prisoner in French] + + He still repeats + That the whole body of the British strength + Is even now descending on Boulogne, + And that self-preservation must, if need, + Clear us from Bonaparte ere many days, + Who momently is moving. + + + MACK + + Still retain him. + + [He walks to the fire, and stands looking into it. The soldier + is taken out.] + + + JELLACHICH [bending over the map in argument with RIESC] + + I much prefer our self-won information; + And if we have Marshal Soult at Landsberg here, + [Which seems to be truth, despite this man,] + And Dupont hard upon us at Albeck, + With Ney not far from Gunzburg; somewhere here, + Or further down the river, lurking Lannes, + Our game's to draw off southward--if we can! + + + MACK [turning] + + I have it. This we'll do. You Jellachich, + Unite with Spangen's troops at Memmingen, + To fend off mischief there. And you, Riesc, + Will make your utmost haste to occupy + The bridge and upper ground at Elchingen, + And all along the left bank of the stream, + Till you observe whereon to concentrate + And sever their connections. I couch here, + And hold the city till the Russians come. + + + A GENERAL [in a low voice] + + Disjunction seems of all expedients worst: + If any stay, then stay should every man, + Gather, inlace, and close up hip to hip, + And perk and bristle hedgehog-like with spines! + + + MACK + + The conference is ended, friends, I say, + And orders will be issued here forthwith. + + [Guns heard.] + + + AN OFFICER + + Surely that's from the Michaelsberg above us? + + + MACK + + Never care. Here we stay. In five more days + The Russians hail, and we regain our bays. + + [Exeunt severally.] + + + + SCENE IV + + BEFORE ULM. THE SAME DAY + + [A high wind prevails, and rain falls in torrents. An elevated + terrace near Elchingen forms the foreground.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + From the terrace BONAPARTE surveys and dictates operations against + the entrenched heights of the Michaelsberg that rise in the middle + distance on the right above the city. Through the gauze of + descending waters the French soldiery can be discerned climbing + to the attack under NEY. + + They slowly advance, recede, re-advance, halt. A time of suspense + follows. Then they are seen in a state of irregular movement, even + confusion; but in the end they carry the heights with the bayonet. + + Below the spot whereon NAPOLEON and his staff are gathered, + glistening wet and plastered with mud, obtrudes on the left the + village of Elchingen, now in the hands of the French. Its white- + walled monastery, its bridge over the Danube, recently broken by + the irresistible NEY, wear a desolated look, and the stream, which + is swollen by the rainfall and rasped by the storm, seems wanly to + sympathize. + + Anon shells are dropped by the French from the summits they have + gained into the city below. A bomb from an Austrian battery falls + near NAPOLEON, and in bursting raises a fountain of mud. The + Emperor retreats with his officers to a less conspicuous station. + + Meanwhile LANNES advances from a position near NAPOLEON till his + columns reach the top of the Frauenberg hard by. The united corps + of LANNES and NEY descend on the inner slope of the heights towards + the city walls, in the rear of the retreating Austrians. One + of the French columns scales a bastion, but NAPOLEON orders the + assault to be discontinued, and with the wane of day the spectacle + disappears. + + + + SCENE V + + THE SAME. THE MICHAELSBERG + + [A chilly but rainless noon three days later. At the back of the + scene, northward, rise the Michaelsberg heights; below stretches + the panorama of the city and the Danube. On a secondary eminence + forming a spur of the upper hill, a fire of logs is burning, the + foremost group beside it being NAPOLEON and his staff, the former + in his shabby greatcoat and plain turned-up hat, walking to and + fro with his hands behind him, and occasionally stopping to warm + himself. The French infantry are drawn up in a dense array at + the back of these. + + The whole Austrian garrison of Ulm marches out of the city gate + opposite NAPOLEON. GENERAL MACK is at the head, followed by + GIULAY, GOTTESHEIM, KLINAU, LICHTENSTEIN, and many other officers, + who advance to BONAPARTE and deliver their swords.] + + + MACK + + Behold me, Sire. Mack the unfortunate! + + + NAPOLEON + + War, General, ever has its ups and downs, + And you must take the better and the worse + As impish chance or destiny ordains. + Come near and warm you here. A glowing fire + Is life on the depressing, mired, moist days + Of smitten leaves down-dropping clammily, + And toadstools like the putrid lungs of men. + [To his Lieutenants.] Cause them so stand to right and left of me. + + [The Austrian officers arrange themselves as directed, and the + body of the Austrians now file past their Conqueror, laying down + their arms as they approach; some with angry gestures and words, + others in moody silence.] + + Listen, I pray you, Generals gathered her. + I tell you frankly that I know not why + Your master wages this wild war with me. + I know not what he seeks by such injustice, + Unless to give me practice in my trade-- + That of a soldier--whereto I was bred: + Deemed he my craft might slip from me, unplied? + Let him now own me still a dab therein! + + + MACK + + Permit me, your Imperial Majesty, + To speak one word in answer; which is this, + No war was wished for by my Emperor: + Russia constrained him to it! + + + NAPOLEON + + If that be, + You are no more a European power.-- + I would point out to him that my resources + Are not confined to these my musters here; + My prisoners of war, in route for France, + Will see some marks of my resources there! + Two hundred thousand volunteers, right fit, + Will join my standards at a single nod, + And in six weeks prove soldiers to the bone, + Whilst you recruits, compulsion's scavengings, + Scarce weld to warriors after toilsome years. + + But I want nothing on this Continent: + The English only are my enemies. + Ships, colonies, and commerce I desire, + Yea, therewith to advantage you as me. + Let me then charge your Emperor, my brother, + To turn his feet the shortest way to peace.-- + All states must have an end, the weak, the strong; + Ay; even may fall the dynasty of Lorraine! + + [The filing past and laying down of arms by the Austrian army + continues with monotonous regularity, as if it would never end.] + + + NAPOLEON [in a murmur, after a while] + + Well, what cares England! She has won her game; + I have unlearnt to threaten her from Boulogne.... + + Her gold it is that forms the weft of this + Fair tapestry of armies marshalled here! + Likewise of Russia's drawing steadily nigh. + But they may see what these see, by and by. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + So let him speak, the while we clearly sight him + Moved like a figure on a lantern-slide. + Which, much amazing uninitiate eyes, + The all-compelling crystal pane but drags + Wither the showman wills. + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + And yet, my friend, + The Will itself might smile at this collapse + Of Austria's men-at-arms, so drolly done; + Even as, in your phantasmagoric show, + The deft manipulator of the slide + Might smile at his own art. + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + Ah, no: ah, no! + It is impassible as glacial snow.-- + Within the Great Unshaken + These painted shapes awaken + A lesser thrill than doth the gentle lave + Of yonder bank by Danube's wandering wave + Within the Schwarzwald heights that give it flow! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + But O, the intolerable antilogy + Of making figments feel! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Logic's in that. + It does not, I must own, quite play the game. + + + CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music] + + And this day wins for Ulm a dingy fame, + Which centuries shall not bleach from her name! + + [The procession of Austrians continues till the scene is hidden + by haze.] + + + + SCENE VI + + LONDON. SPRING GARDENS + + [Before LORD MALMESBURY'S house, on a Sunday morning in the + same autumn. Idlers pause and gather in the background. + + PITT enters, and meets LORD MULGRAVE.] + + + MULGRAVE + + Good day, Pitt. Ay, these leaves that skim the ground + With withered voices, hint that sunshine-time + Is well-nigh past.--And so the game's begun + Between him and the Austro-Russian force, + As second movement in the faceabout + From Boulogne shore, with which he has hocussed us?-- + What has been heard on't? Have they clashed as yet? + + + PITT + + The Emperor Francis, partly at my instance, + Has thrown the chief command on General Mack, + A man most capable and far of sight. + He centres by the Danube-bank at Ulm, + A town well-walled, and firm for leaning on + To intercept the French in their advance + From the Black Forest toward the Russian troops + Approaching from the east. If Bonaparte + Sustain his marches at the break-neck speed + That all report, they must have met ere now. + --There is a rumour... quite impossible!... + + + MULGRAVE + + You still have faith in Mack as strategist? + There have been doubts of his far-sightedness. + + + PITT [hastily] + + I know, I know.--I am calling here at Malmesbury's + At somewhat an unceremonious time + To ask his help to translate this Dutch print + The post has brought. Malmesbury is great at Dutch, + Learning it long at Leyden, years ago. + + [He draws a newspaper from his pocket, unfolds it, and glances + it down.] + + There's news here unintelligible to me + Upon the very matter! You'll come in? + + [They call at LORD MAMESBURY'S. He meets them in the hall, and + welcomes them with an apprehensive look of foreknowledge.] + + + PITT + + Pardon this early call. The packet's in, + And wings me this unreadable Dutch paper, + So, as the offices are closed to-day, + I have brought it round to you. + + [Handling the paper.] + + What does it say? + For God's sake, read it out. You know the tongue. + + + MALMESBURY [with hesitation] + + I have glanced it through already--more than once-- + A copy having reached me, too, by now... + We are in the presence of a great disaster! + See here. It says that Mack, enjailed in Ulm + By Bonaparte--from four side shutting round-- + Capitulated, and with all his force + Laid down his arms before his conqueror! + + [PITT's face changes. A silence.] + + + MULGRAVE + + Outrageous! Ignominy unparalleled! + + + PITT + + By God, my lord, these statement must be false! + These foreign prints are trustless as Cheap Jack + Dumfounding yokels at a country fair. + I heed no word of it.--Impossible. + What! Eighty thousand Austrians, nigh in touch + With Russia's levies that Kutuzof leads, + To lay down arms before the war's begun? + 'Tis too much! + + + MALMESBURY + + But I fear it is too true! + Note the assevered source of the report-- + One beyond thought of minters of mock tales. + The writer adds that military wits + Cry that the little Corporal now makes war + In a new way, using his soldiers' legs + And not their arms, to bring him victory. + Ha-ha! The quip must sting the Corporal's foes. + + PITT [after a pause] + + O vacillating Prussia! Had she moved, + Had she but planted one foot firmly down, + All this had been averted.--I must go. + 'Tis sure, 'tis sure, I labour but in vain! + + [MALMESBURY accompanies him to the door, and PITT walks away + disquietedly towards Whitehall, the other two regarding him + as he goes.] + + + MULGRAVE + + Too swiftly he declines to feebleness, + And these things well might shake a stouter frame! + + + MALMESBURY + + Of late the burden of all Europe's cares, + Of hiring and maintaining half her troops, + His single pair of shoulders has upborne, + Thanks to the obstinacy of the King.-- + His thin, strained face, his ready irritation, + Are ominous signs. He may not be for long. + + + MULGRAVE + + He alters fast, indeed,--as do events. + + + MALMESBURY + + His labour's lost; and all our money gone! + It looks as if this doughty coalition + On which we have lavished so much pay and pains + Would end in wreck. + + + MULGRAVE + + All is not over yet; + The gathering Russian forces are unbroke. + + + MALMESBURY + + Well; we shall see. Should Boney vanquish these, + And silence all resistance on that side, + His move will then be backward to Boulogne, + And so upon us. + + + MULGRAVE + + Nelson to our defence! + + + MALMESBURY + + Ay; where is Nelson? Faith, by this time + He may be sodden; churned in Biscay swirls; + Or blown to polar bears by boreal gales; + Or sleeping amorously in some calm cave + On the Canaries' or Atlantis' shore + Upon the bosom of his Dido dear, + For all that we know! Never a sound of him + Since passing Portland one September day-- + To make for Cadiz; so 'twas then believed. + + + MULGRAVE + + He's staunch. He's watching, or I am much deceived. + + [MULGRAVE departs. MALMESBURY goes within. The scene shuts.] + + + + +ACT FIFTH + + + SCENE I + + OFF CAPE TRAFALGAR + + [A bird's eye view of the sea discloses itself. It is daybreak, + and the broad face of the ocean is fringed on its eastern edge + by the Cape and the Spanish shore. On the rolling surface + immediately beneath the eye, ranged more or less in two parallel + lines running north and south, one group from the twain standing + off somewhat, are the vessels of the combined French and Spanish + navies, whose canvases, as the sun edges upward, shine in its + rays like satin. + + On the western horizon two columns of ships appear in full sail, + small as moths to the aerial vision. They are bearing down + towards the combined squadrons.] + + + RECORDING ANGEL I [intoning from his book] + + At last Villeneuve accepts the sea and fate, + Despite the Cadiz council called of late, + Whereat his stoutest captains--men the first + To do all mortals durst-- + Willing to sail, and bleed, and bear the worst, + Short of cold suicide, did yet opine + That plunging mid those teeth of treble line + In jaws of oaken wood + Held open by the English navarchy + With suasive breadth and artful modesty, + Would smack of purposeless foolhardihood. + + + RECORDING ANGEL II + + But word came, writ in mandatory mood, + To put from Cadiz, gain Toulon, and straight + At a said sign on Italy operate. + Moreover that Villeneuve, arrived as planned, + Would find Rosily in supreme command.-- + Gloomy Villeneuve grows rash, and, darkly brave, + Leaps to meet war, storm, Nelson--even the grave. + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + Ere the concussion hurtle, draw abreast + Of the sea. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Where Nelson's hulls are rising from the west, + Silently. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + + Each linen wing outspread, each man and lad + Sworn to be + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Amid the vanmost, or for Death, or glad + Victory! + + [The point of sight descends till it is near the deck of the + “Bucentaure,” the flag-ship of VILLENEUVE. Present thereupon + are the ADMIRAL, his FLAG-CAPTAIN MAGENDIE, LIEUTENANT + DAUDIGNON, other naval officers and seamen.] + + + MAGENDIE + + All night we have read their signals in the air, + Whereby the peering frigates of their van + Have told them of our trend. + + + VILLENEUVE + + The enemy + Makes threat as though to throw him on our stern: + Signal the fleet to wear; bid Gravina + To come in from manoeuvring with his twelve, + And range himself in line. + + [Officers murmur.] + + I say again + Bid Gravina draw hither with his twelve, + And signal all to wear!--and come upon + The larboard tack with every bow anorth!-- + So we make Cadiz in the worst event. + And patch our rags up there. As we head now + Our only practicable thoroughfare + Is through Gibraltar Strait--a fatal door! + + Signal to close the line and leave no gaps. + Remember, too, what I have already told: + Remind them of it now. They must not pause + For signallings from me amid a strife + Whose chaos may prevent my clear discernment, + Or may forbid my signalling at all. + The voice of honour then becomes the chief's; + Listen they thereto, and set every stitch + To heave them on into the fiercest fight. + Now I will sum up all: heed well the charge; + EACH CAPTAIN, PETTY OFFICER, AND MAN + IS ONLY AT HIS POST WHEN UNDER FIRE. + + [The ships of the whole fleet turn their bows from south to + north as directed, and close up in two parallel curved columns, + the concave side of each column being towards the enemy, and + the interspaces of the first column being, in general, opposite + the hulls of the second.] + + + AN OFFICER [straining his eyes towards the English fleet] + + How they skip on! Their overcrowded sail + Bulge like blown bladders in a tripeman's shop + The market-morning after slaughterday! + + + PETTY OFFICER + + It's morning before slaughterday with us, + I make so bold to bode! + + [The English Admiral is seen to be signalling to his fleet. The + signal is: “ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY.” A loud + cheering from all the English ships comes undulating on the wind + when the signal is read.] + + + VILLENEUVE + + They are signalling too--Well, business soon begins! + You will reserve your fire. And be it known + That we display no admirals' flags at all + Until the action's past. 'Twill puzzle them, + And work to our advantage when we close.-- + Yes, they are double-ranked, I think, like us; + But we shall see anon. + + + MAGENDIE + + The foremost one + Makes for the “Santa Ana.” In such case + The “Fougueux” might assist her. + + + VILLENEUVE + + Be it so-- + There's time enough.--Our ships will be in place, + And ready to speak back in iron words + When theirs cry Hail! in the same sort of voice. + + [They prepare to receive the northernmost column of the enemy's + ships headed by the “Victory,” trying the distance by an occasional + single shot. During their suspense a discharge is heard southward, + and turning they behold COLLINGWOOD at the head of his column in + the “Royal Sovereign,” just engaging with the Spanish “Santa Ana.” + Meanwhile the “Victory's” mizzen-topmast, with spars and a quantity + of rigging, is seen to have fallen, her wheel to be shot away, and + her deck encumbered with dead and wounded men.] + + + VILLENEUVE + + 'Tis well! But see; their course is undelayed, + And still they near in clenched audacity! + + + DAUDIGNON + + Which aim deft Lucas o' the “Redoubtable” + Most gallantly bestirs him to outscheme.-- + See, how he strains, that on his timbers fall + Blows that were destined for his Admiral! + + [During this the French ship “Redoubtable” is moving forward + to interpose itself between the approaching “Victory” and the + “Bucentaure.”] + + + VILLENEUVE + + Now comes it! The “Santisima Trinidad,” + The old “Redoubtable's” hard sides, and ours, + Will take the touse of this bombastic blow. + Your grapnels and your boarding-hatchets--ready! + We'll dash our eagle on the English deck, + And swear to fetch it! + + + CREW + + Ay! We swear. Huzza + Long live the Emperor! + + [But the “Victory” suddenly swerves to the rear of the “Bucentaure,” + and crossing her stern-waters, discharges a broadside into her and + the “Redoubtable” endwise, wrapping the scene in folds of smoke. + The point of view changes.] + + + + SCENE II + + THE SAME. THE QUARTER-DECK OF THE “VICTORY” + + [The van of each division of the English fleet has drawn to the + windward side of the combined fleets of the enemy, and broken + their order, the “Victory” being now parallel to and alongside + the “Redoubtable,” the “Temeraire” taking up a station on the + other side of that ship. The “Bucentaure” and the “Santisima + Trinidad” become jammed together a little way ahead. A smoke + and din of cannonading prevail, amid which the studding-sail + booms are shot away. + + NELSON, HARDY, BLACKWOOD, SECRETARY SCOTT, LIEUTENANT PASCO, + BURKE the Purser, CAPTAIN ADAIR of the Marines, and other + officers are on or near the quarter-deck.] + + + NELSON + + See, there, that noble fellow Collingwood, + How straight he helms his ship into the fire!-- + Now you'll haste back to yours [to BLACKWOOD]. + --We must henceforth + Trust to the Great Disposer of events, + And justice of our cause!... + + [BLACKWOOD leaves. The battle grows hotter. A double-headed shot + cuts down seven or eight marines on the “Victory's” poop.] + + Captain Adair, part those marines of yours, + And hasten to disperse them round the ship.-- + Your place is down below, Burke, not up here; + Ah, yes; like David you would see the battle! + + [A heavy discharge of musket-shot comes from the tops of the + “Santisima Trinidad. ADAIR and PASCO fall. Another swathe + of Marines is mowed down by chain-shot.] + + + SCOTT + + My lord, I use to you the utmost prayers + That I have privilege to shape in words: + Remove your stars and orders, I would beg; + That shot was aimed at you. + + + NELSON + + They were awarded to me as an honour, + And shall I do despite to those who prize me, + And slight their gifts? No, I will die with them, + If die I must. + + [He walks up and down with HARDY.] + + + HARDY + + At least let's put you on + Your old greatcoat, my lord--[the air is keen.].-- + 'Twill cover all. So while you still retain + Your dignities, you baulk these deadly aims + + + NELSON + + Thank 'ee, good friend. But no,--I haven't time, + I do assure you--not a trice to spare, + As you well will see. + + [A few minutes later SCOTT falls dead, a bullet having pierced + his skull. Immediately after a shot passes between the Admiral + and the Captain, tearing the instep of Hardy's shoe, and striking + away the buckle. They shake off the dust and splinters it has + scattered over them. NELSON glances round, and perceives what + has happened to his secretary.] + + + NELSON + + Poor Scott, too, carried off! Warm work this, Hardy; + Too warm to go on long. + + + HARDY + + I think so, too; + Their lower ports are blocked against our hull, + And our charge now is less. Each knock so near + Sets their old wood on fire. + + + NELSON + + Ay, rotten as peat. + What's that? I think she has struck, or pretty nigh! + + [A cracking of musketry.] + + + HARDY + + Not yet.--Those small-arm men there, in her tops, + Thin our crew fearfully. Now, too, our guns + Have dipped full down, or they would rake + The “Temeraire” there on the other side. + + + NELSON + + True.--While you deal good measure out to these, + Keep slapping at those giants over here-- + The “Trinidad,” I mean, and the “Bucentaure,” + To win'ard--swelling up so pompously. + + + HARDY + + I'll see no slackness shall be shown that way. + + [They part and go in their respective directions. Gunners, naked + to the waist and reeking with sweat, are now in swift action on + the several decks, and firemen carry buckets of water hither and + thither. The killed and wounded thicken around, and are being + lifted and examined by the surgeons. NELSON and HARDY meet again.] + + + NELSON + + Bid still the firemen bring more bucketfuls, + And dash the water into each new hole + Our guns have gouged in the “Redoubtable,” + Or we shall all be set ablaze together. + + + HARDY + + Let me once more advise, entreat, my lord, + That you do not expose yourself so clearly. + Those fellows in the mizzen-top up there + Are peppering round you quite perceptibly. + + + NELSON + + Now, Hardy, don't offend me. They can't aim; + They only set their own rent sails on fire.-- + But if they could, I would not hide a button + To save ten lives like mine. I have no cause + To prize it, I assure 'ee.--Ah, look there, + One of the women hit,--and badly, too. + Poor wench! Let some one shift her quickly down. + + + HARDY + + My lord, each humblest sojourner on the seas, + Dock-labourer, lame longshore-man, bowed bargee, + Sees it as policy to shield his life + For those dependent on him. Much more, then, + Should one upon whose priceless presence here + Such issues hang, so many strivers lean, + Use average circumspection at an hour + So critical for us all. + + + NELSON + + Ay, ay. Yes, yes; + I know your meaning, Hardy,; and I know + That you disguise as frigid policy + What really is your honest love of me. + But, faith, I have had my day. My work's nigh done; + I serve all interests best by chancing it + Here with the commonest.--Ah, their heavy guns + Are silenced every one! Thank God for that. + + + HARDY + + 'Tis so. They only use their small arms now. + + [He goes to larboard to see what is progressing on that side + between his ship and the “Santisima Trinidad.”] + + + OFFICER [to seaman] + + Swab down these stairs. The mess of blood about + Makes 'em so slippery that one's like to fall + In carrying the wounded men below. + + [While CAPTAIN HARDY is still a little way off, LORD NELSON turns + to walk aft, when a ball from one of the muskets in the mizzen- + top of the “Redoubtable” enters his left shoulder. He falls upon + his face on the deck. HARDY looks round, and sees what has + happened.] + + + HARDY [hastily] + + Ah--what I feared, and strove to hide I feared!... + + [He goes towards NELSON, who in the meantime has been lifted by + SERGEANT-MAJOR SECKER and two seamen.] + + + NELSON + + Hardy, I think they've done for me at last! + + + HARDY + + I hope not! + + + NELSON + + Yes. My backbone is shot through. + I have not long to live. + + [The men proceed to carry him below.] + + Those tiller ropes + They've torn away, get instantly repaired! + + [At sight of him borne along wounded there is great agitation + among the crew.] + + Cover my face. There will be no good be done + By drawing their attention off to me. + Bear me along, good fellows; I am but one + Among the many darkened here to-day! + + [He is carried on to the cockpit over the crowd of dead and + wounded.] + + Doctor, I'm gone. I am waste o' time to you. + + + HARDY [remaining behind] + + Hills, go to Collingwood and let him know + That we've no Admiral here. + + [He passes on.] + + + A LIEUTENANT + + Now quick and pick him off who did the deed-- + That white-bloused man there in the mizzen-top. + + + POLLARD, a midshipman [shooting] + + No sooner said than done. A pretty aim! + + [The Frenchman falls dead upon the poop. + + The spectacle seems now to become enveloped in smoke, and the + point of view changes.] + + + + SCENE III + + THE SAME. ON BOARD THE “BUCENTAURE” + + [The bowsprit of the French Admiral's ship is stuck fast in the + stern-gallery of the “Santisima Trinidad,” the starboard side of + the “Bucentaure” being shattered by shots from two English three- + deckers which are pounding her on that hand. The poop is also + reduced to ruin by two other English ships that are attacking + her from behind. + + On the quarter-deck are ADMIRAL VILLENEUVE, the FLAG-CAPTAIN + MAGENDIE, LIEUTENANTS DAUDIGNON, FOURNIER, and others, anxiously + occupied. The whole crew is in desperate action of battle and + stumbling among the dead and dying, who have fallen too rapidly + to be carried below.] + + + VILLENEUVE + + We shall be crushed if matters go on thus.-- + Direct the “Trinidad” to let her drive, + That this foul tangle may be loosened clear! + + + DAUDIGNON + + It has been tried, sir; but she cannot move. + + + VILLENEUVE + + Then signal to the “Hero” that she strive + Once more to drop this way. + + MAGENDIE + + We may make signs, + But in the thickened air what signal's marked?-- + 'Tis done, however. + + + VILLENEUVE + + The “Redoubtable” + And “Victory” there,--they grip in dying throes! + Something's amiss on board the English ship. + Surely the Admiral's fallen? + + + A PETTY OFFICER + + Sir, they say + That he was shot some hour, or half, ago.-- + With dandyism raised to godlike pitch + He stalked the deck in all his jewellery, + And so was hit. + + + MAGENDIE + + Then Fortune shows her face! + We have scotched England in dispatching him. [He watches.] + Yes! He commands no more; and Lucas, joying, + Has taken steps to board. Look, spars are laid, + And his best men are mounting at his heels. + + + VILLENEUVE + + Ah, God--he is too late! Whence came the hurl + Of heavy grape? The smoke prevents my seeing + But at brief whiles.--The boarding band has fallen, + Fallen almost to a man.--'Twas well assayed! + + + MAGENDIE + + That's from their “Temeraire,” whose vicious broadside + Has cleared poor Lucas' decks. + + + VILLENEUVE + + And Lucas, too. + I see him no more there. His red planks show + Three hundred dead if one. Now for ourselves! + + [Four of the English three-deckers have gradually closed round + the “Bucentaure,” whose bowsprit still sticks fast in the gallery + of the “Santisima Trinidad.” A broadside comes from one of the + English, resulting in worse havoc on the “Bucentaure.” The main + and mizzen masts of the latter fall, and the boats are beaten to + pieces. A raking fire of musketry follows from the attacking + ships, to which the “Bucentaure” heroically continues still to + keep up a reply. + + CAPTAIN MAGENDIE falls wounded. His place is taken by LIEUTENANT + DAUDIGNON.] + + + VILLENEUVE + + Now that the fume has lessened, code my biddance + Upon our only mast, and tell the van + At once to wear, and come into the fire. + [Aside] If it be true that, as HE sneers, success + Demands of me but cool audacity, + To-day shall leave him nothing to desire! + + [Musketry continues. DAUDIGNON falls. He is removed, his post + being taken by LIEUTENANT FOURNIER. Another crash comes, and + the deck is suddenly encumbered with rigging.] + + + FOURNIER + + There goes our foremast! How for signalling now? + + + VILLENEUVE + + To try that longer, Fournier, is in vain + Upon this haggard, scorched, and ravaged hulk, + Her decks all reeking with such gory shows, + Her starboard side in rents, her stern nigh gone! + How does she keep afloat?-- + “Bucentaure,” O lucky good old ship! + My part in you is played. Ay--I must go; + I must tempt Fate elsewhere,--if but a boat + Can bear me through this wreckage to the van. + + + FOURNIER + + Our boats are stove in, or as full of holes + As the cook's skimmer, from their cursed balls! + + [Musketry. VILLENEUVE'S Head-of-Staff, DE PRIGNY, falls wounded, + and many additional men. VILLENEUVE glances troublously from + ship to ship of his fleet.] + + + VILLENEUVE + + How hideous are the waves, so pure this dawn!-- + Red-frothed; and friends and foes all mixed therein.-- + Can we in some way hail the “Trinidad” + And get a boat from her? + + [They attempt to distract the attention of the “Santisima + Trinidad” by shouting.] + + Impossible; + Amid the loud combustion of this strife + As well try holloing to the antipodes!... + So here I am. The bliss of Nelson's end + Will not be mine; his full refulgent eve + Becomes my midnight! Well; the fleets shall see + That I can yield my cause with dignity. + + [The “Bucentaure” strikes her flag. A boat then puts off from the + English ship “Conqueror,” and VILLENEUVE, having surrendered his + sword, is taken out from the “Bucentaure.” But being unable to + regain her own ship, the boat is picked up by the “Mars,” and + the French admiral is received aboard her. Point of view changes.] + + + + SCENE IV + + THE SAME. THE COCKPIT OF THE “VICTORY” + + [A din of trampling and dragging overhead, which is accompanied + by a continuos ground-bass roar from the guns of the warring + fleets, culminating at times in loud concussions. The wounded + are lying around in rows for treatment, some groaning, some + silently dying, some dead. The gloomy atmosphere of the low- + beamed deck is pervaded by a thick haze of smoke, powdered wood, + and other dust, and is heavy with the fumes of gunpowder and + candle-grease, the odour of drugs and cordials, and the smell + from abdominal wounds. + + NELSON, his face now pinched and wan with suffering, is lying + undressed in a midshipman's berth, dimly lit by a lantern. DR. + BEATTY, DR. MAGRATH, the Rev. DR. SCOTT the Chaplain, BURKE the + Purser, the Steward, and a few others stand around.] + + + MAGRATH [in a low voice] + + Poor Ram, and poor Tom Whipple, have just gone.. + + + BEATTY + + There was no hope for them. + + NELSON [brokenly] + + Who have just died? + + + BEATTY + + Two who were badly hit by now, my lord; + Lieutenant Ram and Mr. Whipple. + + + NELSON + + Ah! + So many lives--in such a glorious cause.... + I join them soon, soon, soon!--O where is Hardy? + Will nobody bring Hardy to me--none? + He must be killed, too. Surely Hardy's dead? + + + A MIDSHIPMAN + + He's coming soon, my lord. The constant call + On his full heed of this most mortal fight + Keeps him from hastening hither as he would. + + + NELSON + + I'll wait, I'll wait. I should have thought of it. + + [Presently HARDY comes down. NELSON and he grasp hands.] + + Hardy, how goes the day with us and England? + + + HARDY + + Well; very well, thank God for't, my dear lord. + Villeneuve their Admiral has this moment struck, + And put himself aboard the “Conqueror.” + Some fourteen of their first-rates, or about, + Thus far we've got. The said “Bucentaure” chief: + The “Santa Ana,” the “Redoubtable,” + The “Fougueux,” the “Santisima Trinidad,” + “San Augustino, “San Francisco,” “Aigle”; + And our old “Swiftsure,” too, we've grappled back, + To every seaman's joy. But now their van + Has tacked to bear round on the “Victory” + And crush her by sheer weight of wood and brass: + Three of our best I am therefore calling up, + And make no doubt of worsting theirs, and France. + + + NELSON + + That's well. I swore for twenty.--But it's well. + + + HARDY + + We'll have 'em yet! But without you, my lord, + We have to make slow plodding do the deeds + That sprung by inspiration ere you fell; + And on this ship the more particularly. + + + NELSON + + No, Hardy.--Ever 'twas your settled fault + So modestly to whittle down your worth. + But I saw stuff in you which admirals need + When, taking thought, I chose the “Victory's” keel + To do my business with these braggarts in. + A business finished now, for me!--Good friend, + Slow shades are creeping me... I scarce see you. + + + HARDY + + The smoke from ships upon our win'ard side, + And the dust raised by their worm-eaten hulks, + When our balls touch 'em, blind the eyes, in truth. + + + NELSON + + No; it is not that dust; 'tis dust of death + That darkens me. + + [A shock overhead. HARDY goes up. On or two other officers go up, + and by and by return.] + + What was that extra noise? + + + OFFICER + + The “Formidable' passed us by, my lord, + And thumped a stunning broadside into us.-- + But, on their side, the “Hero's” captain's fallen; + The “Algeciras” has been boarded, too, + By Captain Tyler, and the captain shot: + Admiral Gravina desperately holds out; + They say he's lost an arm. + + + NELSON + + And we, ourselves-- + Who have we lost on board here? Nay, but tell me! + + + BEATTY + + Besides poor Scott, my lord, and Charles Adair, + Lieutenant Ram, and Whipple, captain's clerk, + There's Smith, and Palmer, midshipmen, just killed. + And fifty odd of seamen and marines. + + + NELSON + + Poor youngsters! Scarred old Nelson joins you soon. + + + BEATTY + + And wounded: Bligh, lieutenant; Pasco, too, + and Reeves, and Peake, lieutenants of marines, + And Rivers, Westphall, Bulkeley, midshipmen, + With, of the crew, a hundred odd just now, + Unreckoning those late fallen not brought below. + + + BURKE + + That fellow in the mizzen-top, my lord, + Who made it his affair to wing you thus, + We took good care to settle; and he fell + Like an old rook, smack from his perch, stone dead. + + + NELSON + + 'Twas not worth while!--He was, no doubt, a man + Who in simplicity and sheer good faith + Strove but to serve his country. Rest be to him! + And may his wife, his friends, his little ones, + If such be had, be tided through their loss, + And soothed amid the sorrow brought by me. + + [HARDY re-enters.] + + Who's that? Ah--here you come! How, Hardy, now? + + + HARDY + + The Spanish Admiral's rumoured to be wounded, + We know not with what truth. But, be as 'twill, + He sheers away with all he could call round, + And some few frigates, straight to Cadiz port. + + [A violent explosion is heard above the confused noises on deck. + A midshipman goes above and returns.] + + + MIDSHIPMAN [in the background] + + It is the enemy's first-rate, the “Achille,” + Blown to a thousand atoms!--While on fire, + Before she burst, the captain's woman there, + Desperate for life, climbed from the gunroom port + Upon the rudder-chains; stripped herself stark, + And swam for the Pickle's boat. Our men in charge, + Seeing her great breasts bulging on the brine, + Sang out, “A mermaid 'tis, by God!”--then rowed + And hauled her in.-- + + + BURKE + + Such unbid sights obtrude + On death's dyed stage! + + + MIDSHIPMAN + + Meantime the “Achille” fought on, + Even while the ship was blazing, knowing well + The fire must reach their powder; which it did. + The spot is covered now with floating men, + Some whole, the main in parts; arms, legs, trunks, heads, + Bobbing with tons of timber on the waves, + And splinter looped with entrails of the crew. + + + NELSON [rousing] + + Our course will be to anchor. Let me know. + + + HARDY + + But let me ask, my lord, as needs I must, + Seeing your state, and that our work's not done, + Shall I, from you, bid Admiral Collingwood + Take full on him the conduct of affairs? + + + NELSON [trying to raise himself] + + Not while I live, I hope! No, Hardy; no. + Give Collingwood my order. Anchor all! + + + HARDY [hesitating] + + You mean the signal's to be made forthwith? + + + NELSON + + I do!--By God, if but our carpenter + Could rig me up a jury-backbone now, + To last one hour--until the battle's done, + I'd see to it! But here I am--stove in-- + Broken--all logged and done for! Done, ay done! + + + BEATTY [returning from the other wounded] + + My lord, I must implore you to lie calm! + You shorten what at best may not be long. + + + NELSON [exhausted] + + I know, I know, good Beatty! Thank you well + Hardy, I was impatient. Now I am still. + Sit here a moment, if you have time to spare? + + [BEATTY and others retire, and the two abide in silence, except + for the trampling overhead and the moans from adjoining berths. + NELSON is apparently in less pain, seeming to doze.] + + + NELSON [suddenly] + + What are you thinking, that you speak no word? + + + HARDY [waking from a short reverie] + + Thoughts all confused, my lord:--their needs on deck, + Your own sad state, and your unrivalled past; + Mixed up with flashes of old things afar-- + Old childish things at home, down Wessex way. + In the snug village under Blackdon Hill + Where I was born. The tumbling stream, the garden, + The placid look of the grey dial there, + Marking unconsciously this bloody hour, + And the red apples on my father's trees, + Just now full ripe. + + + NELSON + + Ay, thus do little things + Steal into my mind, too. But ah, my heart + Knows not your calm philosophy!--There's one-- + Come nearer to me, Hardy.--One of all, + As you well guess, pervades my memory now; + She, and my daughter--I speak freely to you. + 'Twas good I made that codicil this morning + That you and Blackwood witnessed. Now she rests + Safe on the nation's honour.... Let her have + My hair, and the small treasured things I owned, + And take care of her, as you care for me! + + [HARDY promises.] + + + NELSON [resuming in a murmur] + + Does love die with our frame's decease, I wonder, + Or does it live on ever?... + + [A silence. BEATTY approaches.] + + + HARDY + Now I'll leave, + See if your order's gone, and then return. + + + NELSON [symptoms of death beginning to change his face] + + Yes, Hardy; yes; I know it. You must go.-- + Here we shall meet no more; since Heaven forfend + That care for me should keep you idle now, + When all the ship demands you. Beatty, too. + Go to the others who lie bleeding there; + Them can you aid. Me you can render none! + My time here is the briefest.--If I live + But long enough I'll anchor.... But--too late-- + My anchoring's elsewhere ordered!... Kiss me, Hardy: + + [HARDY bends over him.] + + I'm satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty! + + [HARDY brushes his eyes with his hand, and withdraws to go above, + pausing to look back before he finally disappears.] + + + BEATTY [watching Nelson] + + Ah!--Hush around!... + He's sinking. It is but a trifle now + Of minutes with him. Stand you, please, aside, + And give him air. + + [BEATTY, the Chaplain, MAGRATH, the Steward, and attendants + continue to regard NELSON. BEATTY looks at his watch.] + + + BEATTY + + Two hours and fifty minutes since he fell, + And now he's going. + + [They wait. NELSON dies.] + + + CHAPLAIN + + Yes.... He has homed to where + There's no more sea. + + + BEATTY + + We'll let the Captain know, + Who will confer with Collingwood at once. + I must now turn to these. + + [He goes to another part of the cockpit, a midshipman ascends to + the deck, and the scene overclouds.] + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + His thread was cut too slowly! When he fell. + And bade his fame farewell, + He might have passed, and shunned his long-drawn pain, + Endured in vain, in vain! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Young Spirits, be not critical of That + Which was before, and shall be after you! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + But out of tune the Mode and meritless + That quickens sense in shapes whom, thou hast said, + Necessitation sways! A life there was + Among these self-same frail ones--Sophocles-- + Who visioned it too clearly, even while + He dubbed the Will “the gods.” Truly said he, + “Such gross injustice to their own creation + Burdens the time with mournfulness for us, + And for themselves with shame.”[9]--Things mechanized + By coils and pivots set to foreframed codes + Would, in a thorough-sphered melodic rule, + And governance of sweet consistency, + Be cessed no pain, whose burnings would abide + With That Which holds responsibility, + Or inexist. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Yea, yea, yea! + Thus would the Mover pay + The score each puppet owes, + The Reaper reap what his contrivance sows! + Why make Life debtor when it did not buy? + Why wound so keenly Right that it would die? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Nay, blame not! For what judgment can ye blame?-- + In that immense unweeting Mind is shown + One far above forethinking; processive, + Yet superconscious; a Clairvoyancy + That knows not what It knows, yet works therewith.-- + The cognizance ye mourn, Life's doom to feel, + If I report it meetly, came unmeant, + Emerging with blind gropes from impercipience + By listless sequence--luckless, tragic Chance, + In your more human tongue. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + And hence unneeded + In the economy of Vitality, + Which might have ever kept a sealed cognition + As doth the Will Itself. + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + Nay, nay, nay; + Your hasty judgments stay, + Until the topmost cyme + Have crowned the last entablature of Time. + O heap not blame on that in-brooding Will; + O pause, till all things all their days fulfil! + + + + SCENE V + + LONDON. THE GUILDHALL + + [A crowd of citizens has gathered outside to watch the carriages + as they drive up and deposit guests invited to the Lord Mayor's + banquet, for which event the hall is brilliantly lit within. A + cheer rises when the equipage of any popular personage arrives + at the door. + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + Well, well! Nelson is the man who ought to have been banqueted + to-night. But he is coming to Town in a coach different from these.! + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + Will they bring his poor splintered body home? + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + Yes. They say he's to be tombed in marble, at St. Paul's or + Westminster. We shall see him if he lays in state. It will + make a patriotic spectacle for a fine day. + + + BOY + + How can you see a dead man, father, after so long? + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + They'll embalm him, my boy, as they did all the great Egyptian + admirals. + + + BOY + + His lady will be handy for that, won't she? + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + Don't ye ask awkward questions. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + Here's another coming! + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + That's my Lord Chancellor Eldon. Wot he'll say, and wot he'll look! + Mr. Pitt will be here soon. + + + BOY + + I don't like Billy. He killed Uncle John's parrot. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + How may ye make that out, youngster? + + + BOY + + Mr. Pitt made the war, and the war made us want sailors; and Uncle + John went for a walk down Wapping High Street to talk to the pretty + ladies one evening; and there was a press all along the river that + night--a regular hot one--and Uncle John was carried on board a + man-of-war to fight under Nelson; and nobody minded Uncle John's + parrot, and it talked itself to death. So Mr. Pitt killed Uncle + John's parrot; see it, sir? + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + You had better have a care of this boy, friend. His brain is too + precious for the common risks of Cheapside. Not but what he might + as well have said Boney killed the parrot when he was about it. + And as for Nelson--who's now sailing shinier seas than ours, if + they've rubbed Her off his slate where he's gone to,--the French + papers say that our loss in him is greater than our gain in ships; + so that logically the victory is theirs. Gad, sir, it's almost + true! + + [A hurrahing is heard from Cheapside, and the crowd in that + direction begins to hustle and show excitement.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + He's coming, he's coming! Here, let me lift you up, my boy.-- Why, + they have taken out the horses, as I am man alive! + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + Pitt for ever!--Why, here's a blade opening and shutting his mouth + like the rest, but never a sound does he raise! + + THIRD CITIZEN + + I've not too much breath to carry me through my day's work, so I + can't afford to waste it in such luxuries as crying Hurrah to + aristocrats. If ye was ten yards off y'd think I was shouting + as loud as any. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + It's a very mean practice of ye to husband yourself at such a time, + and gape in dumbshow like a frog in Plaistow Marshes. + + + THIRD CITIZEN + + No, sir; it's economy; a very necessary instinct in these days of + ghastly taxations to pay half the armies in Europe! In short, in + the word of the Ancients, it is scarcely compass-mentas to do + otherwise! Somebody must save something, or the country will be + as bankrupt as Mr. Pitt himself is, by all account; though he + don't look it just now. + + [PITT's coach passes, drawn by a troop of running men and boy. + The Prime Minister is seen within, a thin, erect, up-nosed + figure, with a flush of excitement on his usually pale face. + The vehicle reached the doorway to the Guildhall and halts with + a jolt. PITT gets out shakily, and amid cheers enters the + building.] + + + FOURTH CITIZEN + + Quite a triumphal entry. Such is power; + Now worshipped, now accursed! The overthrow + Of all Pitt's European policy + When his hired army and his chosen general + Surrendered them at Ulm a month ago, + Is now forgotten! Ay; this Trafalgar + Will botch up many a ragged old repute, + Make Nelson figure as domestic saint + No less than country's saviour, Pitt exalt + As zenith-star of England's firmament, + And uncurse all the bogglers of her weal + At this adventurous time. + + + THIRD CITIZEN + + Talk of Pitt being ill. He looks hearty as a buck. + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + It's the news--no more. His spirits are up like a rocket for the + moment. + + + BOY + + Is it because Trafalgar is near Portugal that he loves Port wine? + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + Ah, as I said, friend; this boy must go home and be carefully put + to bed! + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + + Well, whatever William's faults, it is a triumph for his virtues + to-night! + + [PITT having disappeared, the Guildhall doors are closed, and + the crowd slowly disperses, till in the course of an hour the + street shows itself empty and dark, only a few oil lamps burning. + + The SCENE OPENS, revealing the interior of the Guildhall, and + the brilliant assembly of City magnates, Lords, and Ministers + seated there, Mr. PITT occupying a chair of honour by the Lord + Mayor. His health has been proposed as that of the Saviour of + England, and drunk with acclamations.] + + + PITT [standing up after repeated calls] + + My lords and gentlemen:--You have toasted me + As one who has saved England and her cause. + I thank you, gentlemen, unfeignedly. + But--no man has saved England, let me say: + England has saved herself, by her exertions: + She will, I trust, save Europe by her example! + + [Loud applause, during which he sits down, rises, and sits down + again. The scene then shuts, and the night without has place.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Those words of this man Pitt--his last large words, + As I may prophesy--that ring to-night + In their first mintage to the feasters here, + Will spread with ageing, lodge, and crystallize, + And stand embedded in the English tongue + Till it grow thin, outworn, and cease to be.-- + So is't ordained by That Which all ordains; + For words were never winged with apter grace. + Or blent with happier choice of time and place, + To hold the imagination of this strenuous race. + + + + SCENE VI[10] + + AN INN AT RENNES + + [Night. A sleeping-chamber. Two candles are burning near a bed + in an alcove, and writing-materials are on the table. + + The French admiral, VILLENEUVE, partly undressed, is pacing up + and down the room.] + + + VILLENEUVE + + These hauntings have at last nigh proved to me + That this thing must be done. Illustrious foe + And teacher, Nelson: blest and over blest + In thy outgoing at the noon of strife + When glory clasped thee round; while wayward Death + Refused my coaxings for the like-timed call! + Yet I did press where thickest missiles fell, + And both by precept and example showed + Where lay the line of duty, patriotism, + And honour, in that combat of despair. + + [He see himself in the glass as he passes.] + + Unfortunate Villeneuve!--whom fate has marked + To suffer for too firm a faithfulness.-- + An Emperor's chide is a command to die.-- + By him accursed, forsaken by my friend, + Awhile stern England's prisoner, then unloosed + Like some poor dolt unworth captivity, + Time serves me now for ceasing. Why not cease?... + When, as Shades whisper in the chasmal night, + “Better, far better, no percipience here.”-- + O happy lack, that I should have no child + To come into my hideous heritage, + And groan beneath the burden of my name![11] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + I'll speak. His mood is ripe for such a parle. + [Sending a voice into VILLENEUVE'S ear.] + + Thou dost divine the hour! + + + VILLENEUVE + + But those stern Nays, + That heretofore were audible to me + At each unhappy time I strove to pass? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Have been annulled. The Will grants exit freely; + Yea, It says “Now.” Therefore make now thy time. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + May his sad sunken soul merge into nought + Meekly and gently as a breeze at eve! + + + VILLENEUVE + + From skies above me and the air around + Those callings which so long have circled me + At last do whisper “Now.” Now it shall be! + + [He seals a letter, and addresses it to his wife; then takes a + dagger from his accoutrements that are hanging alongside, and, + lying down upon his back on the bed, stabs himself determinedly + in many places, leaving the weapon in the last wound.] + + Ungrateful master; generous foes; Farewell! + + [VILLENEUVE dies; and the scene darkens.] + + + + SCENE VII + + KING GEORGE'S WATERING-PLACE, SOUTH WESSEX + + [The interior of the “Old Rooms” Inn. Boatmen and burghers are + sitting on settles round the fire, smoking and drinking. + + + FIRST BURGHER + + So they've brought him home at last, hey? And he's to be solemnized + with a roaring funeral? + + + FIRST BOATMAN + + Yes, thank God.... 'Tis better to lie dry than wet, if canst do it + without stinking on the road gravewards. And they took care that he + shouldn't. + + + SECOND BOATMAN + + 'Tis to be at Paul's; so they say that know. And the crew of the + “Victory” have to walk in front, and Captain Hardy is to carry his + stars and garters on a great velvet pincushion. + + + FIRST BURGHER + + Where's the Captain now? + + + SECOND BOATMAN [nodding in the direction of Captain Hardy's house] + + Down at home here biding with his own folk a bit. I zid en walking + with them on the Esplanade yesterday. He looks ten years older than + he did when he went. Ay--he brought the galliant hero home! + + + SECOND BURGHER + + Now how did they bring him home so that he could lie in state + afterwards to the naked eye! + + + FIRST BOATMAN + + Well, as they always do,--in a cask of sperrits. + + + SECOND BURGHER + + Really, now! + + + FIRST BOATMAN [lowering his voice] + + But what happened was this. They were a long time coming, owing to + contrary winds, and the “Victory” being little more than a wreck. + And grog ran short, because they'd used near all they had to peckle + his body in. So--they broached the Adm'l! + + + SECOND BURGHER + + How? + + + FIRST BOATMAN + + Well; the plain calendar of it is, that when he came to be unhooped, + it was found that the crew had drunk him dry. What was the men to + do? Broke down by the battle, and hardly able to keep afloat, 'twas + a most defendable thing, and it fairly saved their lives. So he was + their salvation after death as he had been in the fight. If he + could have knowed it, 'twould have pleased him down to the ground! + How 'a would have laughed through the spigot-hole: “Draw on, my + hearties! Better I shrivel that you famish.” Ha-ha! + + + SECOND BURGHER + + It may be defendable afloat; but it seems queer ashore. + + + FIRST BOATMAN + + Well, that's as I had it from one that knows--Bob Loveday of + Overcombe--one of the “Victory” men that's going to walk in the + funeral. However, let's touch a livelier string. Peter Green, + strike up that new ballet that they've lately had prented here, + and were hawking about town last market-day. + + + + SONG + + THE NIGHT OF TRAFALGAR + + + I + + In the wild October night-time, when the wind raved round the land, + And the Back-sea[12] met the Front-sea, and our doors were blocked + with sand, + And we heard the drub of Dead-man's Bay, where bones of thousands are, + We knew not what the day had done for us at Trafalgar. + [All] Had done, + Had done, + For us at Trafalgar! + + + II + + “Pull hard, and make the Nothe, or down we go!” one says, says he. + We pulled; and bedtime brought the storm; but snug at home slept we. + Yet all the while our gallants after fighting through the day, + Were beating up and down the dark, sou'-west of Cadiz Bay. + The dark, + The dark, + Sou'-west of Cadiz Bay! + + + III + + The victors and the vanquished then the storm it tossed and tore, + As hard they strove, those worn-out men, upon that surly shore; + Dead Nelson and his half-dead crew, his foes from near and far, + Were rolled together on the deep that night at Trafalgar! + The deep, + The deep, + That night at Trafalgar! + + [The Cloud-curtain draws.] + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS + + Meanwhile the month moves on to counter-deeds + Vast as the vainest needs, + And fiercely the predestined plot proceeds. + + + + +ACT SIXTH + + + SCENE I + + THE FIELD OF AUSTERLITZ. THE FRENCH POSITION + + [The night is the 1st of December following, and the eve of the + battle. The view is from the elevated position of the Emperor's + bivouac. The air cuts keen and the sky glistens with stars, but + the lower levels are covered with a white fog stretching like a + sea, from which the heights protrude as dusky rocks. + + To the left are discernible high and wooded hills. In the front + mid-distance the plateau of Pratzen outstands, declining suddenly + on the right to a low flat country covered with marshes and pools + now mostly obscured. On the plateau itself are seen innumerable + and varying lights, marking the bivouac of the centre divisions + of the Austro-Russian army. Close to the foreground the fires of + the French are burning, surrounded by soldiery. The invisible + presence of the countless thousand of massed humanity that compose + the two armies makes itself felt indefinably. + + The tent of NAPOLEON rises nearest at hand, with sentinel and + other military figures looming around, and saddled horses held + by attendants. The accents of the Emperor are audible, through + the canvas from inside, dictating a proclamation.] + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON + + “Soldiers, the hordes of Muscovy now face you, + To mend the Austrian overthrow at Ulm! + But how so? Are not these the self-same bands + You met and swept aside at Hollabrunn, + And whose retreating forms, dismayed to flight, + Your feet pursued along the trackways here? + + “Our own position, massed and menacing, + Is rich in chance for opportune attack; + For, say they march to cross and turn our right-- + A course almost at their need--their stretching flank + Will offer us, from points now prearranged---” + + + VOICE OF A MARSHAL + + Shows it, your Majesty, the wariness + That marks your usual far-eye policy, + To openly announce your tactics thus + Some twelve hours ere their form can actualize? + + + THE VOICE OF NAPOLEON + + The zest such knowledge will impart to all + Is worth the risk of leakages. [To Secretary] + Write on. + + [Dictation resumed] + + “Soldiers, your sections I myself shall lead; + But ease your minds who would expostulate + Against my undue rashness. If your zeal + Sow hot confusion in the hostile files + As your old manner is, and in our rush + We mingle with our foes, I'll use fit care. + Nevertheless, should issues stand at pause + But for a wink-while, that time you will eye + Your Emperor the foremost in the shock, + Taking his risk with every ranksman here. + For victory, men, must be no thing surmised, + As that which may or may not beam on us, + Like noontide sunshine on a dubious morn; + It must be sure!--The honour and the fame + Of France's gay and gallant infantry-- + So dear, so cherished all the Empire through-- + Binds us to compass it! + Maintain the ranks; + Let none be thinned by impulse or excuse + Of bearing back the wounded: and, in fine, + Be every one in this conviction firm:-- + That 'tis our sacred bond to overthrow + These hirelings of a country not their own: + Yea, England's hirelings, they!--a realm stiff-steeled + In deathless hatred of our land and lives. + + “The campaign closes with this victory; + And we return to find our standards joined + By vast young armies forming now in France. + Forthwith resistless, Peace establish we, + Worthy of you, the nation, and of me!” + “NAPOLEON.” + [To his Marshals] + + So shall we prostrate these paid slaves of hers-- + England's, I mean--the root of all the war. + + + VOICE OF MURAT + + The further details sent of Trafalgar + Are not assuring. + + + VOICE OF LANNES + + What may the details be? + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON [moodily] + + We learn that six-and-twenty ships of war, + During the fight and after, struck their flags, + And that the tigerish gale throughout the night + Gave fearful finish to the English rage. + By luck their Nelson's gone, but gone withal + Are twenty thousand prisoners, taken off + To gnaw their finger-nails in British hulks. + Of our vast squadrons of the summer-time + But rags and splintered remnants now remain.-- + Thuswise Villeneuve, poor craven, quitted him! + And England puffed to yet more bombastry. + --Well, well; I can't be everywhere. No matter; + A victory's brewing here as counterpoise! + These water-rats may paddle in their salt slush, + And welcome. 'Tis not long they'll have the lead. + Ships can be wrecked by land! + + + ANOTHER VOICE + + And how by land, + Your Majesty, if one may query such? + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON [sardonically] + + I'll bid all states of Europe shut their ports + To England's arrogant bottoms, slowly starve + Her bloated revenues and monstrous trade, + Till all her hulls lie sodden in their docks, + And her grey island eyes in vain shall seek + One jack of hers upon the ocean plains! + + + VOICE OF SOULT + + A few more master-strokes, your Majesty, + Must be dealt hereabout to compass such! + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON + + God, yes!--Even here Pitt's guineas are the foes: + 'Tis all a duel 'twixt this Pitt and me; + And, more than Russia's host, and Austria's flower, + I everywhere to-night around me feel + As from an unseen monster haunting nigh + His country's hostile breath!--But come: to choke it + By our to-morrow's feats, which now, in brief, + I recapitulate.--First Soult will move + To forward the grand project of the day: + Namely: ascend in echelon, right to front, + With Vandamme's men, and those of Saint Hilaire: + Legrand's division somewhere further back-- + Nearly whereat I place my finger here-- + To be there reinforced by tirailleurs: + Lannes to the left here, on the Olmutz road, + Supported by Murat's whole cavalry. + While in reserve, here, are the grenadiers + Of Oudinot, the corps of Bernadotte, + Rivaud, Drouet, and the Imperial Guard. + + + MARSHAL'S VOICES + + Even as we understood, Sire, and have ordered. + Nought lags but day, to light our victory! + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON + + Now let us up and ride the bivouacs round, + And note positions ere the soldiers sleep. + --Omit not from to-morrow's home dispatch + Direction that this blow of Trafalgar + Be hushed in all the news-sheets sold in France, + Or, if reported, let it be portrayed + As a rash fight whereout we came not worst, + But were so broken by the boisterous eve + That England claims to be the conqueror. + + [There emerge from the tent NAPOLEON and the marshals, who all + mount the horses that are led up, and proceed through the frost + and time towards the bivouacs. At the Emperor's approach to the + nearest soldiery they spring up.] + + + SOLDIERS + + The Emperor! He's here! The Emperor's here! + + + AN OLD GRENADIER [approaching Napoleon familiarly] + + We'll bring thee Russian guns and flags galore. + To celebrate thy coronation-day! + + [They gather into wisps the straw, hay, and other litter on which + they have been lying, and kindling these at the dying fires, wave + them as torches. This is repeated as each fire is reached, till + the whole French position is one wide illumination. The most + enthusiastic of the soldiers follow the Emperor in a throng as + he progresses, and his whereabouts in the vast field is denoted + by their cries.] + + + CHORUS OF PITIES [aerial music] + + Strange suasive pull of personality! + + + CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS + + His projects they unknow, his grin unsee! + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES + + Their luckless hearts say blindly--He! + + [The night-shades close over.] + + + + SCENE II + + THE SAME. THE RUSSIAN POSITION + + [Midnight at the quarters of FIELD-MARSHAL PRINCE KUTUZOF at + Kresnowitz. An inner apartment is discovered, roughly adapted + as a council-room. On a table with candles is unfolded a large + map of Austerlitz and its environs. + + The Generals are assembled in consultation round the table, + WEIROTHER pointing to the map, LANGERON, BUXHOVDEN, and + MILORADOVICH standing by, DOKHTOROF bending over the map, + PRSCHEBISZEWSKY[13] indifferently walking up and down. KUTUZOF, + old and weary, with a scarred face and only one eye, is seated + in a chair at the head of the table, nodding, waking, and + nodding again. Some officers of lower grade are in the + background, and horses in waiting are heard hoofing and champing + outside. + + WEIROTHER speaks, referring to memoranda, snuffing the nearest + candle, and moving it from place to place on the map as he + proceeds importantly.] + + + WEIROTHER + + Now here, our right, along the Olmutz Road + Will march and oust our counterfacers there, + Dislodge them from the Sainton Hill, and thence + Advance direct to Brunn.--You heed me, sirs?-- + The cavalry will occupy the plain: + Our centre and main strength,--you follow me?-- + Count Langeron, Dokhtorof, with Prschebiszewsky + And Kollowrath--now on the Pratzen heights-- + Will down and cross the Goldbach rivulet, + Seize Tilnitz, Kobelnitz, and hamlets nigh, + Turn the French right, move onward in their rear, + Cross Schwarsa, hold the great Vienna road:-- + So, with the nightfall, centre, right, and left, + Will rendezvous beneath the walls of Brunn. + + + LANGERON [taking a pinch of snuff] + + Good, General; very good!--if Bonaparte + Will kindly stand and let you have your way. + But what if he do not!--if he forestall + These sound slow movements, mount the Pratzen hills + When we descend, fall on OUR rear forthwith, + While we go crying for HIS rear in vain? + + + KUTUZOF [waking up] + + Ay, ay, Weirother; that's the question--eh? + + + WEIROTHER [impatiently] + + If Bonaparte had meant to climb up there, + Being one so spry and so determinate, + He would have set about it ere this eve! + He has not troops to do so, sirs, I say: + His utmost strength is forty thousand men. + + + LANGERON + + Then if so weak, how can so wise a brain + Court ruin by abiding calmly here + The impact of a force so large as ours? + He may be mounting up this very hour! + What think you, General Miloradovich? + + + MILORADOVICH + + I? What's the use of thinking, when to-morrow + Will tell us, with no need to think at all! + + + WEIROTHER + + Pah! At this moment he retires apace. + His fires are dark; all sounds have ceased that way + Save voice of owl or mongrel wintering there. + But, were he nigh, these movements I detail + Would knock the bottom from his enterprize. + + + KUTUZOF [rising] + + Well, well. Now this being ordered, set it going. + One here shall make fair copies of the notes, + And send them round. Colonel van Toll I ask + To translate part.--Generals, it grows full late, + And half-a-dozen hours of needed sleep + Will aid us more than maps. We now disperse, + And luck attend us all. Good-night. Good-night. + + [The Generals and other officers go out severally.] + + Such plans are--paper! Only to-morrow's light + Reveals the true manoeuvre to my sight! + + [He flaps out with his hand all the candles but one or two, + slowly walks outside the house, and listens. On the high + ground in the direction of the French lines are heard shouts, + and a wide illumination grows and strengthens; but the hollows + are still mantled in fog.] + + Are these the signs of regiments out of heart, + And beating backward from an enemy! + + + [He remains pondering. On the Pratzen heights immediately in front + there begins a movement among the Russians, signifying that the plan + which involves desertion of that vantage-ground is about to be put + in force. Noises of drunken singing arise from the Russian lines at + various points elsewhere. + + The night shades involve the whole.] + + + + SCENE III + + THE SAME. THE FRENCH POSITION + + [Shortly before dawn on the morning of the 2nd of December. A + white frost and fog still prevail in the low-lying areas; but + overhead the sky is clear. A dead silence reigns. + + NAPOLEON, on a grey horse, closely attended by BERTHIER, and + surrounded by MARSHALS SOULT, LANNES, MURAT, and their aides-de + camp, all cloaked, is discernible in the gloom riding down + from the high ground before Bellowitz, on which they have + bivouacked, to the village of Puntowitz on the Goldbach stream, + quite near the front of the Russian position of the day before + on the Pratzen crest. The Emperor and his companions come to + a pause, look around and upward to the hills, and listen.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Their bivouac fires, that lit the top last night, + Are all extinct. + + + LANNES + + And hark you, Sire; I catch + A sound which, if I err not, means the thing + We have hoped, and hoping, feared fate would not yield! + + + NAPOLEON + + My God, it surely is the tramp of horse + And jolt of cannon downward from the hill + Toward our right here, by the swampy lakes + That face Davout? Thus, as I sketched, they work! + + + MURAT + + Yes! They already move upon Tilnitz. + + + NAPOLEON + + Leave them alone! Nor stick nor stone we'll stir + To interrupt them. Nought that we can scheme + Will help us like their own stark sightlessness!-- + Let them get down to those white lowlands there, + And so far plunge in the level that no skill, + When sudden vision flashes on their fault, + Can help them, though despair-stung, to regain + The key to mastery held at yestereve! + + Meantime move onward these divisions here + Under the fog's kind shroud; descend the slope, + And cross the stream below the Russian lines: + There halt concealed, till I send down the word. + + [NAPOLEON and his staff retire to the hill south-east of Bellowitz + and the day dawns pallidly.] + + 'Tis good to get above that rimy cloak + And into cleaner air. It chilled me through. + + [When they reach the summit they are over the fog: and suddenly + the sun breaks forth to the left of Pratzen, illuminating the + ash-hued face of NAPOLEON and the faces of those around him. + All eyes are turned first to the sun, and thence to look for + the dense masses of men that had occupied the upland the night + before.] + + MURAT + + I see them not. The plateau seems deserted! + + + NAPOLEON + + Gone; verily!--Ah, how much will you bid, + An hour hence, for the coign abandoned now! + The battle's ours.--It was, then, their rash march + Downwards to Tilnitz and the Goldbach swamps + Before dawn, that we heard.--No hurry, Lannes! + Enjoy this sun, that rests its chubby jowl + Upon the plain, and thrusts its bristling beard + Across the lowlands' fleecy counterpane, + Peering beneath our broadest hat-brims' shade.... + Soult, how long hence to win the Pratzen top? + + + SOULT + + Some twenty minutes or less, your Majesty: + Our troops down there, still mantled by the mist, + Are half upon the way. + + + NAPOLEON + + Good! Set forthwith + Vandamme and Saint Hilaire to mount the slopes--- + + [Firing begins in the marsh to the right by Tilnitz and the pools, + though the thick air yet hides the operations.] + + O, there you are, blind boozy Buxhovden! + Achieve your worst. Davout will hold you firm. + + [The head of and aide-de-camp rises through the fog on that + side, and he hastens up to NAPOLEON and his companions, to whom + the officer announces what has happened. DAVOUT rides off, + disappearing legs first into the white stratum that covers the + attack.] + + Lannes and Murat, you have concern enough + Here on the left, with Prince Bagration + And all the Austro-Russian cavalry. + Haste off. The victory promising to-day + Will, like a thunder-clap, conclude the war! + + [The Marshals with their aides gallop away towards their respective + divisions. Soon the two divisions under SOULT are seen ascending + in close column the inclines of the Pratzen height. Thereupon the + heads of the Russian centre columns disclose themselves, breaking + the sky-line of the summit from the other side, in a desperate + attempt to regain the position vacated by the Russian left. A + fierce struggle develops there between SOULT'S divisions and these, + who, despite their tardy attempt to recover the lost post of + dominance, are pressed by the French off the slopes into the + lowland.] + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + O Great Necessitator, heed us now! + If it indeed must be + That this day Austria smoke with slaughtery, + Quicken the issue as Thou knowest how; + And dull their lodgment in a flesh that galls! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + If it be in the future human story + To lift this man to yet intenser glory, + Let the exploit be done + With the least sting, or none, + To those, his kind, at whose expense such pitch is won! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Again ye deprecate the World-Soul's way + That I so long have told? Then note anew + [Since ye forget] the ordered potencies, + Nerves, sinews, trajects, eddies, ducts of It + The Eternal Urger, pressing change on change. + + [At once, as earlier, a preternatural clearness possesses the + atmosphere of the battle-field, in which the scene becomes + anatomized and the living masses of humanity transparent. The + controlling Immanent Will appears therein, as a brain-like + network of currents and ejections, twitching, interpenetrating, + entangling, and thrusting hither and thither the human forms.] + + + SEMICHORUS I OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music] + + O Innocents, can ye forget + That things to be were shaped and set + Ere mortals and this planet met? + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Stand ye apostrophizing That + Which, working all, works but thereat + Like some sublime fermenting-vat. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Heaving throughout its vast content + With strenuously transmutive bent + Though of its aim insentient?-- + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Could ye have seen Its early deeds + Ye would not cry, as one who pleads + For quarter, when a Europe bleeds! + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Ere ye, young Pities, had upgrown + From out the deeps where mortals moan + Against a ruling not their own, + + + SEMICHORUS II + + He of the Years beheld, and we, + Creation's prentice artistry + Express in forms that now unbe + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Tentative dreams from day to day; + Mangle its types, re-knead the clay + In some more palpitating way; + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Beheld the rarest wrecked amain, + Whole nigh-perfected species slain + By those that scarce could boast a brain; + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Saw ravage, growth, diminish, add, + Here peoples sane, there peoples mad, + In choiceless throws of good and bad; + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Heard laughters at the ruthless dooms + Which tortured to the eternal glooms + Quick, quivering hearts in hecatombs. + + + CHORUS + + Us Ancients, then, it ill befits + To quake when Slaughter's spectre flits + Athwart this field of Austerlitz! + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + Pain not their young compassions by such lore, + But hold you mute, and read the battle yonder: + The moment marks the day's catastrophe. + + + + SCENE IV + + THE SAME. THE RUSSIAN POSITION + + [It is about noon, and the vital spectacle is now near the village + of Tilnitz. The fog has dispersed, and the sun shines clearly, + though without warmth, the ice on the pools gleaming under its + radiance. + + GENERAL BUXHOVDEN and his aides-de-camp have reined up, and remain + at pause on a hillock. The General watches through a glass his + battalions, which are still disputing the village. Suddenly + approach down the track from the upland of Pratzen large companies + of Russian infantry helter-skelter. COUNT LANGERON is beheld to + be retreating with them; and soon, pale and agitated, he hastens + up to GENERAL BUXHOVDEN, whose face is flushed.] + + + LANGERON + + While they are upon us you stay idle here! + Prschebiszewsky's column is distraught and rent, + And more than half my own made captive! Yea, + Kreznowitz carried, and Sokolnitz hemmed: + The enemy's whole strength will stound you soon! + + + BUXHOVDEN + + You seem to see the enemy everywhere. + + + LANGERON + + You cannot see them, be they here or no! + + + BUXHOVDEN + + I only wait Prschebiszewsky's nearing corps + To join Dokhtorof's to them. Here they come. + + [SOULT, supported by BERNADOTTE and OUDINOT, having cleared and + secured the Pratzen height, his battalions are perceived descending + from it on this side, behind DOKHTOROF'S division, so placing the + latter between themselves and the pools.] + + + LANGERON + + You cannot tell the Frenchmen from ourselves! + These are the victors.--Ah--Dokhtorof--lost! + + [DOKHTOROF'S troops are seen to be retreating towards the water. + The watchers stand in painful tenseness.] + + + BUXHOVDEN + + Dokhtorof tell to save him as he may! + We, Count, must gather up our shaken flesh + And hurry them by the road through Austerlitz. + + [BUXHOVDEN'S regiments and the remains of LANGERON'S are rallied + and collected, and they retreat by way of the hamlet of Aujezd. + As they go over the summit of a hill BUXHOVDEN looks back. + LANGERON'S columns, which were behind his own, have been cut + off by VANDAMME'S division coming down from the Pratzen plateau. + This and some detachments from DOKHTOROF'S column rush towards + the Satschan lake and endeavour to cross it on the ice. It + cracks beneath their weight. At the same moment NAPOLEON and + his brilliant staff appear on the top of the Pratzen. + + The Emperor watches the scene with a vulpine smile; and directs + a battery near at hand to fire down upon the ice on which the + Russians are crossing. A ghastly crash and splashing follows + the discharge, the shining surface breaking into pieces like a + mirror, which fly in all directions. Two thousand fugitives are + engulfed, and their groans of despair reach the ears of the + watchers like ironical huzzas. + + A general flight of the Russian army from wing to wing is now + disclosed, involving in its current the EMPEROR ALEXANDER and + the EMPEROR FRANCIS, with the reserve, who are seen towards + Austerlitz endeavouring to rally their troops in vain. They + are swept along by the disordered soldiery.] + + + + SCENE V + + THE SAME. NEAR THE WINDMILL OF PALENY + + [The mill is about seven miles to the southward, between French + advanced posts and the Austrians. + + A bivouac fire is burning. NAPOLEON, in grey overcoat and + beaver hat turned up front to back, rides to the spot with + BERTHIER, SAVARY, and his aides, and alights. He walks to + and fro complacently, meditating or talking to BERTHIER. Two + groups of officers, one from each army, stand in the background + on their respective sides.] + + + NAPOLEON + + What's this of Alexander? Weep, did he, + Like his old namesake, but for meaner cause? + Ha, ha! + + + BERTHIER + + Word goes, you Majesty, that Colonel Toll, + One of Field-Marshal Price Kutuzof's staff, + In the retreating swirl of overthrow, + Found Alexander seated on a stone, + Beneath a leafless roadside apple-tree, + Out here by Goding on the Holitsch way; + His coal-black uniform and snowy plume + Unmarked, his face disconsolate, his grey eyes + Mourning in tears the fate of his brave array-- + All flying southward, save the steadfast slain. + + + NAPOLEON + + Poor devil!--But he'll soon get over it-- + Sooner than his employers oversea!-- + Ha!--this well make friend Pitt and England writhe, + And cloud somewhat their lustrous Trafalgar. + + [An open carriage approaches from the direction of Holitsch, + accompanied by a small escort of Hungarian guards. NAPOLEON + walks forward to meet it as it draws up, and welcomes the + Austrian Emperor, who alights. He is wearing a grey cloak + over a white uniform, carries a light walking-cane, and is + attended by PRINCE JOHN OF LICHTENSTEIN, SWARZENBERG, and + others. His fresh-coloured face contrasts strangely with the + bluish pallor of NAPOLEON'S; but it is now thin and anxious. + + They formally embrace. BERTHIER, PRINCE JOHN, and the rest + retire, and the two Emperors are left by themselves before the + fire.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Here on the roofless ground do I receive you-- + My only mansion for these two months past! + + + FRANCIS + + Your tenancy thereof has brought such fame + That it must needs be one which charms you, Sire. + + + NAPOLEON + + Good! Now this war. It has been forced on me + Just at a crisis most inopportune, + When all my energies and arms were bent + On teaching England that her watery walls + Are no defence against the wrath of France + Aroused by breach of solemn covenants. + + + FRANCIS + + I had no zeal for violating peace + Till ominous events in Italy + Revealed the gloomy truth that France aspires + To conquest there, and undue sovereignty. + Since when mine eyes have seen no sign outheld + To signify a change of purposings. + + + NAPOLEON + + Yet there were terms distinctly specified + To General Giulay in November past, + Whereon I'd gladly fling the sword aside. + To wit: that hot armigerent jealousy + Stir us no further on transalpine rule, + I'd take the Isonzo River as our bounds. + + + FRANCIS + + Roundly, that I cede all!--And how may stand + Your views as to the Russian forces here? + + + NAPOLEON + + You have all to lose by that alliance, Sire. + Leave Russia. Let the Emperor Alexander + Make his own terms; whereof the first must be + That he retire from Austrian territory. + I'll grant an armistice therefor. Anon + I'll treat with him to weld a lasting peace, + Based on some simple undertakings; chief, + That Russian armies keep to the ports of his domain. + Meanwhile to you I'll tender this good word: + Keep Austria to herself. To Russia bound, + You pay your own costs with your provinces, + Alexander's likewise therewithal. + + + FRANCIS + + I see as much, and long have seen it, Sire; + And standing here the vanquished, let me own + What happier issues might have left unsaid: + Long, long I have lost the wish to bind myself + To Russia's purposings and Russia's risks; + Little do I count these alliances + With Powers that have no substance seizable! + + [As they converse they walk away.] + + + AN AUSTRIAN OFFICER + + O strangest scene of an eventful life, + This junction that I witness here to-day! + An Emperor--in whose majestic veins + Aeneas and the proud Caesarian line + Claim yet to live; and, those scarce less renowned, + The dauntless Hawks'-Hold Counts, of gallantry + So great in fame one thousand years ago-- + To bend with deference and manners mild + In talk with this adventuring campaigner, + Raised but by pikes above the common herd! + + + ANOTHER AUSTRIAN OFFICER + + Ay! There be Satschan swamps and Pratzen heights + In royal lines, as here at Austerlitz. + + [The Emperors again draw near.] + + + FRANCIS + + Then, to this armistice, which shall be called + Immediately at all points, I agree; + And pledge my word that my august ally + Accept it likewise, and withdraw his force + By daily measured march to his own realm. + + + NAPOLEON + + For him I take your word. And pray believe + That rank ambitions are your own, not mine; + That though I have postured as your enemy, + And likewise Alexander's, we are one + In interests, have in all things common cause. + + One country sows these mischiefs Europe through + By her insidious chink of luring ore-- + False-featured England, who, to aggrandize + Her name, her influence, and her revenues, + Schemes to impropriate the whole world's trade, + And starves and bleeds the folk of other lands. + Her rock-rimmed situation walls her off + Like a slim selfish mollusk in its shell + From the wide views and fair fraternities + Which on the mainland we reciprocate, + And quicks her quest for profit in our woes! + + + FRANCIS + + I am not competent, your Majesty, + To estimate that country's conscience now, + Nor engage on my ally's behalf + That English ships be shut from Russian trade. + But joyful am I that in all things else + My promise can be made; and that this day + Our conference ends in friendship and esteem. + + + NAPOLEON + + I will send Savary at to-morrow's blink + And make all lucid to the Emperor. + For us, I wholly can avow as mine + The cordial spirit of your Majesty. + + [They retire towards the carriage of FRANCIS. BERTHIER, SAVARY, + LICHTENSTEIN, and the suite of officers advance from the background, + and with mutual gestures of courtesy and amicable leave-takings + the two Emperors part company.] + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + Each for himself, his family, his heirs; + For the wan weltering nations who concerns, who cares? + + + CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS + + A pertinent query, in truth!-- + But spoil not the sport by your ruth: + 'Tis enough to make half + Yonder zodiac laugh + When rulers begin to allude + To their lack of ambition, + And strong opposition + To all but the general good! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Hush levities. Events press: turn ye westward. + + [A nebulous curtain draws slowly across.] + + + + SCENE VI + + SHOCKERWICK HOUSE, NEAR BATH + + [The interior of the Picture Gallery. Enter WILTSHIRE, the owner, + and Pitt, who looks emaciated and walks feebly.] + + + WILTSHIRE [pointing to a portrait] + + Now here you have the lady we discussed: + A fine example of his manner, sir? + + + PITT + + It is a fine example, sir, indeed,-- + With that transparency amid the shades, + And those thin blue-green-grayish leafages + Behind the pillar in the background there, + Which seem the leaves themselves.--Ah, this is Quin. + + [Moving to another picture.] + + + WILTSHIRE + + Yes, Quin. A man of varied parts, though rough + And choleric at times. Yet, at his best, + As Falstaff, never matched, they say. But I + Had not the fate to see him in the flesh. + + + PITT + + Churchill well carves him in his “Character”:-- + “His eyes, in gloomy socket taught to roll, + Proclaimed the sullen habit of his soul. + In fancied scenes, as in Life's real plan, + He could not for a moment sink the man: + Nature, in spite of all his skill, crept in; + Horatio, Dorax, Falstaff--stile 'twas Quin.” + --He was at Bath when Gainsborough settled there + In that house in the Circus which we know.-- + I like the portrait much.--The brilliancy + Of Gainsborough lies in this his double sway: + Sovereign of landscape he; of portraiture + Joint monarch with Sir Joshua.... Ah?--that's--hark! + Is that the patter of horses's hoofs + Along the road? + + + WILTSHIRE + + I notice nothing, sir. + + + PITT + + It is a gallop, growing quite distinct. + And--can it be a messenger for me! + + + WILTSHIRE + + I hope no ugly European news + To stop the honour of this visit, sir! + + [They listen. The gallop of the horse grows louder, and is + checked at the door of the house. There is a hasty knocking, + and a courier, splashed with mud from hard riding, is shown + into the gallery. He presents a dispatch to PITT, who sits + down and hurriedly opens it.] + + + PITT [to himself] + + O heavy news indeed!... Disastrous; dire! + + [He appears overcome as he sits, and covers his forehead with + his hand.] + + + WILTSHIRE + + I trust you are not ill, sir? + + + PITT [after some moments] + + Could I have + A little brandy, sir, quick brought to me? + + + WILTSHIRE + + In one brief minute. + + [Brandy is brought in, and PITT takes it.] + + + PITT + + Now leave me, please, alone. I'll call anon. + Is there a map of Europe handy here? + + [WILTSHIRE fetches a map from the library, and spreads it before + the minister. WILTSHIRE, courier, and servant go out.] + + O God that I should live to see this day! + + [He remains awhile in a profound reverie; then resumes the reading + of the dispatch.] + + “Defeated--the Allies--quite overthrown + At Austerlitz--last week.”--Where's Austerlitz? + --But what avails it where the place is now; + What corpse is curious on the longitude + And situation of his cemetery!... + The Austrians and the Russians overcome, + That vast adventuring army is set free + To bend unhindered strength against our strand.... + So do my plans through all these plodding years + Announce them built in vain! + His heel on Europe, monarchies in chains + To France, I am as though I had never been! + + [He gloomily ponders the dispatch and the map some minutes longer. + At last he rises with difficulty, and rings the bell. A servant + enters.] + + Call up my carriage, please you, now at once; + And tell your master I return to Bath + This moment--I may want a little help + In getting to the door here. + + + SERVANT + + Sir, I will, + And summon you my master instantly. + + [He goes out and re-enters with WILTSHIRE. PITT is assisted from + the room.] + + + PITT + + Roll up that map. 'Twill not be needed now + These ten years! Realms, laws, peoples, dynasties, + Are churning to a pulp within the maw + Of empire-making Lust and personal Gain! + + [Exeunt PITT, WILTSHIRE, and the servant; and in a few minutes the + carriage is heard driving off, and the scene closes.] + + + + SCENE VII + + PARIS. A STREET LEADING TO THE TUILERIES + + [It is night, and the dim oil lamps reveal a vast concourse of + citizens of both sexes around the Palace gates and in the + neighbouring thoroughfares.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS [to the Spirit of Rumour] + + Thou may'st descend and join this crowd awhile, + And speak what things shall come into they mouth. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + I'll harken! I wouldn't miss it for the groans on another + Austerlitz! + + [The Spirit of Rumour enters on the scene in the disguise of a + young foreigner.] + + + SPIRIT [to a street-woman] + + Lady, a late hour this to be afoot! + + + WOMAN + + Poor profit, then, to me from my true trade, + Wherein hot competition is so rife + Already, since these victories brought to town + So many foreign jobbers in my line, + That I'd best hold my tongue from praise of fame! + However, one is caught by popular zeal, + And though five midnights have not brought a sou, + I, too, chant _Jubilate_ like the rest.-- + + In courtesies have haughty monarchs vied + Towards the Conqueror! who, with men-at-arms + One quarter theirs, has vanquished by his nerve + Vast mustering four-hundred-thousand strong, + And given new tactics to the art of war + Unparalleled in Europe's history! + + + SPIRIT + + What man is this, whose might thou blazonest so-- + Who makes the earth to tremble, shakes old thrones, + And turns the plains to wilderness? + + + WOMAN + + Dost ask + As ignorant, yet asking can define? + What mean you, traveller? + + + SPIRIT + + I am a stranger here, + A wandering wight, whose life has not been spent + This side the globe, though I can speak the tongue. + + + WOMAN + + Your air has truth in't; but your state is strange! + Had I a husband he should tackle thee. + + + SPIRIT + + Dozens thou hast had--batches more than she + Samaria knew, if now thou hast not one! + + + WOMAN + + Wilt take the situation from this hour? + + + SPIRIT + + Thou know'st not what thy frailty asks, good dame! + + + WOMAN + + Well, learn in small the Emperor's chronicle, + As gleaned from what my soldier-husbands say:-- + some five-and-forty standards of his foes + Are brought to Paris, borne triumphantly + In proud procession through the surging streets, + Ever as brands of fame to shine aloft + In dim-lit senate-halls and city aisles. + + + SPIRIT + + Fair Munich sparkled with festivity + As there awhile he tarried, and was met + By the gay Josephine your Empress here.-- + There, too, Eugene-- + + + WOMAN + + Napoleon's stepson he--- + + + SPIRIT + + Received for gift the hand of fair Princess + Augusta [daughter of Bavaria's crown, + Forced from her plighted troth to Baden's heir], + And, to complete his honouring, was hailed + Successor to the throne of Italy. + + + WOMAN + + How know you, ere this news has got abroad? + + + SPIRIT + + Channels have I the common people lack.-- + There, on the nonce, the forenamed Baden prince + Was joined to Stephanie Beauharnais, her + Who stands as daughter to the man we wait, + Some say as more. + + + WOMAN + They do? Then such not I. + Can revolution's dregs so soil thy soul + That thou shouldst doubt the eldest son thereof? + 'Tis dangerous to insinuate nowadays! + + + SPIRIT + + Right! Lady many-spoused, more charity + Upbrims in thee than in some loftier ones + Who would not name thee with their white-washed tongues.-- + Enough. I am one whom, didst thou know my name, + Thou would'st not grudge a claim to speak his mind. + + + WOMAN + + A thousand pardons, sir. + + + SPIRIT + + Resume thy tale + If so thou wishest. + + + WOMAN + + Nay, but you know best--- + + + SPIRIT + + How laurelled progress through applauding crowds + Have marked his journey home. How Strasburg town, + Stuttgart, Carlsruhe, acclaimed him like the rest: + How pageantry would here have welcomed him, + Had not his speed outstript intelligence + --Now will a glimpse of him repay thee. Hark! + + [Shouts arise and increase in the distance, announcing BONAPARTE'S + approach.] + + Well, Buonaparte has revived by land, + But not by sea. On that thwart element + Never will he incorporate his dream, + And float as master! + + + WOMAN + + What shall hinder him? + + + SPIRIT + + That which has hereto. England, so to say. + + + WOMAN + + But she's in straits. She lost her Nelson now, + [A worthy man: he loved a woman well!] + George drools and babbles in a darkened room; + Her heaven-born Minister declines apace; + All smooths the Emperor's sway. + + + SPIRIT + + Tales have two sides, + Sweet lady. Vamped-up versions reach thee here.-- + That Austerlitz was lustrous none ignores, + But would it shock thy garrulousness to know + That the true measure of this Trafalgar-- + Utter defeat, ay, France's naval death-- + Your Emperor bade be hid? + + + WOMAN + + The seer's gift + Has never plenteously endowed me, sir, + As in appearance you. But to plain sense + Thing's seem as stated. + + + SPIRIT + + We'll let seemings be.-- + But know, these English take to liquid life + Right patly--nursed therefor in infancy + By rimes and rains which creep into their blood, + Till like seeks like. The sea is their dry land, + And, as on cobbles you, they wayfare there. + + + WOMAN + + Heaven prosper, then, their watery wayfarings + If they'll leave us the land!--[The Imperial carriage appears.] + The Emperor!-- + Long live the Emperor!--He's the best by land. + + [BONAPARTE'S carriage arrives, without an escort. The street + lamps shine in, and reveal the EMPRESS JOSEPHINE seated beside + him. The plaudits of the people grow boisterous as they hail + him Victor of Austerlitz. The more active run after the carriage, + which turns in from the Rue St. Honore to the Carrousel, and + thence vanishes into the Court of the Tuileries.] + + + WOMAN + + May all success attend his next exploit! + + + SPIRIT + + Namely: to put the knife in England's trade, + And teach her treaty-manners--if he can! + + + WOMAN + + I like not your queer knowledge, creepy man. + There's weirdness in your air. I'd call you ghost + Had not the Goddess Reason laid all such + Past Mother Church's cunning to restore. + --Adieu. I'll not be yours to-night. I'd starve first! + + [She withdraws. The crowd wastes away, and the Spirit vanishes.] + + + + SCENE VIII + + PUTNEY. BOWLING GREEN HOUSE + + [PITT'S bedchamber, from the landing without. It is afternoon. + At the back of the room as seen through the doorway is a curtained + bed, beside which a woman sits, the LADY HESTER STANHOPE. Bending + over a table at the front of the room is SIR WALTER FARQUHAR, the + physician. PARSLOW the footman and another servant are near the + door. TOMLINE, the Bishop of Lincoln, enters.] + + + FARQUHAR [in a subdued voice] + + I grieve to call your lordship up again, + But symptoms lately have disclosed themselves + That mean the knell to the frail life in him. + And whatsoever thing of gravity + It may be needful to communicate, + Let them be spoken now. Time may not serve + If they be much delayed. + + + TOMLINE + + Ah, stands it this?... + The name of his disease is--Austerlitz! + His brow's inscription has been Austerlitz + From that dire morning in the month just past + When tongues of rumour twanged the word across + From its hid nook on the Moravian plains. + + + FARQUHAR + + And yet he might have borne it, had the weight + Of governmental shackles been unclasped, + Even partly, from his limbs last Lammastide, + When that despairing journey to the King + At Gloucester Lodge by Wessex shore was made + To beg such. But relief the King refused. + “Why want you Fox? What--Grenville and his friends?” + He harped. “You are sufficient without these-- + Rather than Fox, why, give me civil war!” + And fibre that would rather snap than shrink + Held out no longer. Now the upshot nears. + + [LADY HESTER STANHOPE turns her head and comes forward.] + + + LADY HESTER + + I am grateful you are here again, good friend! + He's sleeping some light seconds; but once more + Has asked for tidings of Lord Harrowby, + And murmured of his mission to Berlin + As Europe's haggard hope; if, sure, it be + That any hope remain! + + + TOMLINE + + There's no news yet.-- + These several days while I have been sitting by him + He has inquired the quarter of the wind, + And where that moment beaked the stable-cock. + When I said “East,” he answered “That is well! + Those are the breezes that will speed him home!” + So cling his heart-strings to his country's cause. + + + FARQUHAR + + I fear that Wellesley's visit here by now + Strung him to tensest strain. He quite broke down, + And has fast faded since. + + + LADY HESTER + + Ah! now he wakes. + Please come and speak to him as you would wish [to TOMLINE]. + + [LADY HESTER, TOMLINE,and FARQUHAR retire behind the bed, where + in a short time voices are heard in prayer. Afterwards the + Bishop goes to a writing-table, and LADY HESTER comes to the + doorway. Steps are heard on the stairs, and PITT'S friend ROSE, + the President of the Board of Trade, appears on the landing and + makes inquiries.] + + + LADY HESTER [whispering] + + He wills the wardenry of his affairs + To his old friend the Bishop. But his words + Bespeak too much anxiety for me, + And underrate his services so far + That he has doubts if his high deeds deserve + Such size of recognition by the State + As would award slim pensions to his kin. + He had been fain to write down his intents, + But the quill dropped from his unmuscled hand.-- + Now his friend Tomline pens what he dictates + And gleans the lippings of his last desires. + + [ROSE and LADY HESTER turn. They see the Bishop bending over + the bed with a sheet of paper on which he has previously been + writing. A little later he dips a quill and holds it within + the bed-curtain, spreading the paper beneath. A thin white + hand emerges from behind the curtain and signs the paper. The + Bishop beckons forward the two servants, who also sign. + + FARQUHAR on one side of the bed, and TOMLINE on the other, are + spoken to by the dying man. The Bishop afterwards withdraws + from the bed and comes to the landing where the others are.] + + + TOMLINE + + A list of his directions has been drawn, + And feeling somewhat more at mental ease + He asks Sir Walter if he has long to live. + Farquhar just answered, in a soothing tone, + That hope still frailly breathed recovery. + At this my dear friend smiled and shook his head, + As if to say: “I can translate your words, + But I reproach not friendship's lullabies.” + + + ROSE + + Rest he required; and rest was not for him. + + [FARQUHAR comes forward as they wait.] + + + FARQUHAR + + His spell of concentration on these things, + Determined now, that long have wasted him, + Have left him in a numbing lethargy, + From which I fear he may not rouse to strength + For speech with earth again. + + + ROSE + + But hark. He does. + + [The listen.] + + + PITT + + My country! How I leave my country!... + + + TOMLINE + + Ah,-- + Immense the matter those poor words contain! + + + ROSE + + Still does his soul stay wrestling with that theme, + And still it will, even semi-consciously, + Until the drama's done. + + [They continue to converse by the doorway in whispers. PITT + sinks slowly into a stupor, from which he never awakens.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES [to Spirit of the Years] + + Do you intend to speak to him ere the close? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Nay, I have spoke too often! Time and time, + When all Earth's light has lain on the nether side, + And yapping midnight winds have leapt on the roofs, + And raised for him an evil harlequinade + Of national disasters in long train, + That tortured him with harrowing grimace, + Now I would leave him to pass out in peace, + And seek the silence unperturbedly. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Even ITS official Spirit can show ruth + At man's fag end, when his destruction's sure! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + It suits us ill to cavil each with each. + I might retort. I only say to thee + ITS slaves we are: ITS slaves must ever be! + + + CHORUS [aerial music] + + Yea, from the Void we fetch, like these, + And tarry till That please + To null us by Whose stress we emanate.-- + Our incorporeal sense, + Our overseeings, our supernal state, + Our readings Why and Whence, + Are but the flower of Man's intelligence; + And that but an unreckoned incident + Of the all-urging Will, raptly magnipotent. + + [A gauze of shadow overdraws.] + + + + + + +PART SECOND + + + + CHARACTERS + + + I. PHANTOM INTELLIGENCES + + + THE ANCIENT SPIRIT OF THE YEARS/CHORUS OF THE YEARS. + + THE SPIRIT OF THE PITIES/CHORUS OF THE PITIES. + + SPIRITS SINISTER AND IRONIC/CHORUSES OF SINISTER AND IRONIC SPIRITS. + + THE SPIRIT OF RUMOUR/CHORUS OF RUMOURS. + + THE SHADE OF THE EARTH. + + SPIRIT-MESSENGERS. + + RECORDING ANGELS. + + + II. PERSONS [The names in lower case are mute figures.] + + + MEN + + GEORGE THE THIRD. + THE PRINCE OF WALES, afterwards PRINCE REGENT. + The Royal Dukes. + FOX. + PERCEVAL. + CASTLEREAGH. + AN UNDER-SECRETARY OF STATE. + SHERIDAN. + TWO YOUNG LORDS. + Lords Yarmouth and Keith. + ANOTHER LORD. + Other Peers, Ambassadors, Ministers, ex-Ministers, Members of + Parliament, and Persons of Quality and Office. + + .......... + + Sir Arthur Wellesley, afterwards Lord Wellington. + SIR JOHN MOORE. + SIR JOHN HOPE. + Sir David Baird. + General Beresford. + COLONEL ANDERSON. + COLONEL GRAHAM. + MAJOR COLBORNE, principal Aide-de-Camp to MOORE. + CAPTAIN HARDINGE. + Paget, Fraser, Hill, Napier. + A CAPTAIN OF HUSSARS AND OTHERS. + Other English Generals, Colonels, Aides, Couriers, and Military + Officers. + TWO SPIES. + TWO ARMY SURGEONS. + AN ARMY CHAPLAIN. + A SERGEANT OF THE FORTY-THIRD. + TWO SOLDIERS OF THE NINTH. + English Forces. + DESERTERS AND STRAGGLERS. + + .......... + + DR. WILLIS. + SIR HENRY HALFORD. + DR. HEBERDEN. + DR. BAILLIE. + THE KING'S APOTHECARY. + A GENTLEMAN. + TWO ATTENDANTS ON THE KING. + + .......... + + MEMBERS OF A LONDON CLUB. + AN ENGLISHMAN IN VIENNA. + TROTTER, SECRETARY TO FOX. + MR. BAGOT. + MR. FORTH, MASTER OF CEREMONIES. + SERVANTS. + A Beau, A Constable, etc. + + .......... + + NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. + Joseph Bonaparte. + Louis and Jerome Bonaparte, and other Members of Napoleon's Family. + CAMBACERES, ARCH-CHANCELLOR. + TALLEYRAND. + PRESIDENT OF THE SENATE. + Caulaincourt. + Lebrun, Duroc, Prince of Neufchatel, Grand-Duke of Berg. + Eugene de Beauharnais. + CHAMPAGNY, FOREIGN MINISTER + DE BAUSSET, CHAMBERLAIN. + MURAT. + SOULT. + MASSENA. + BERTHIER. + JUNOT. + FOY. + LOISON. + Ney, Lannes, and other French Marshals, general and regimental + Officers, Aides, and Couriers. + TWO FRENCH SUBALTERNS. + ANOTHER FRENCH OFFICER. + French Forces. + + .......... + + Grand Marshal, Grand Almoners, Heralds, and other Officials at + Napoleon's marriage. + ABBE DE PRADT, CHAPEL-MASTER. + Corvisart, First Physician to Marie Louis. + BOURDIER, SECOND PHYSICIAN to Marie Louise. + DUBOIS, ACCOUCHEUR to Marie Louise. + Maskers at a Ball. + TWO SERVANTS AT THE TUILERIES. + A PARISIAN CROWD. + GUILLET DE GEVRILLIERE, A CONSPIRATOR. + Louis XVIII. of France. + French Princes in England. + + .......... + + THE KING OF PRUSSIA. + Prince Henry of Prussia. + Prince Royal of Bavaria. + PRINCE HOHENLOHE. + Generals Ruchel, Tauenzien, and Attendant Officers. + Prussian Forces. + PRUSSIAN STRAGGLERS. + BERLIN CITIZENS. + + .......... + + CARLOS IV., KING OF SPAIN. + FERNANDO, PRINCE OF ASTURIAS, Son to the King. + GODOY, “PRINCE OF PEACE,” Lover of the Queen. + COUNT OF MONTIJO. + VISCOUNT MATEROSA, Spanish Deputy. + DON DIEGO DE LA VEGA, Spanish Deputy. + Godoy's Guards and other Soldiery. + SPANISH CITIZENS. + A SERVANT TO GODOY. + Spanish Forces. + Camp-Followers. + + .......... + + FRANCIS, EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA. + METTERNICH. + ANOTHER AUSTRIAN MINISTER. + SCHWARZENBERG. + D'AUDENARDE, AN EQUERRY. + AUSTRIAN OFFICERS. + AIDES-DE-CAMP. + Austrian Forces. + Couriers and Secretaries. + VIENNESE CITIZENS. + + .......... + + THE EMPEROR ALEXANDER. + The Grand-Duke Constantine. + Prince Labanoff. + Count Lieven. + Generals Bennigsen, Ouwaroff, and others. + Officers in attendance on Alexander. + + + WOMEN + + CAROLINE, PRINCESS OF WALES. + DUCHESS OF YORK. + DUCHESS OF RUTLAND. + MARCHIONESS OF SALISBURY. + MARCHIONESS OF HERTFORD. + Other Peeresses. + MRS. FITZHERBERT. + Ambassadors' Wives, Wives of Minister and Members of Parliament, + and other Ladies of Note. + + .......... + + THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. + HORTENSE, QUEEN OF HOLLAND. + The Mother of Napoleon. + Princess Pauline, and others of Napoleon's Family. + DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO. + MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU. + MADAME BLAISE, NURSE TO MARIE LOUIS. + Wives of French Ministers, and of other Officials. + Other Ladies of the French Court. + DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME. + + .......... + + LOUISA, QUEEN OF PRUSSIA. + The Countess Voss, Lady-in-Waiting. + BERLIN LADIES. + + .......... + + MARIA LUISA, QUEEN OF SPAIN. + THEREZA OF BOURBON, WIFE OF GODOY. + DONA JOSEFA TUDO, MISTRESS OF GODOY. + Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen. + A Servant. + + .......... + + M. LOUISA BEATRIX, EMPRESS OF AUSTRIA. + THE ARCHDUCHESS MARIE LOUISA, afterwards the EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE. + MADAME METTERNICH. + LADIES OF THE AUSTRIAN COURT. + + .......... + + THE EMPRESS-MOTHER OF RUSSIA. + GRAND-DUCHESS ANNE OF RUSSIA. + + + + +ACT FIRST + + + SCENE I + + LONDON. FOX'S LODGINGS, ARLINGTON STREET + + [FOX, the Foreign Secretary in the new Ministry of All-the-Talents, + sits at a table writing. He is a stout, swarthy man, with shaggy + eyebrows, and his breathing is somewhat obstructed. His clothes + look as though they had been slept in. TROTTER, his private + secretary, is writing at another table near. A servant enters.] + + + SERVANT + + Another stranger presses to see you, sir. + + + FOX [without raising his eyes] + + Oh, another. What's he like? + + + SERVANT + + A foreigner, sir; though not so out-at-elbows as might be thought + from the denomination. He says he's from Gravesend, having lately + left Paris, and that you sent him a passport. He comes with a + police-officer. + + + FOX + + Ah, to be sure. I remember. Bring him in, and tell the officer + to wait outside. [Servant goes out.] Trotter, will you leave us + for a few minutes? But be within hail. + + [The secretary retires, and the servant shows in a man who calls + himself GUILLET DE GEVRILLIERE--a tall, thin figure of thirty, + with restless eyes. The door being shut behind him, he is left + alone with the minister. FOX points to a seat, leans back, and + surveys his visitor.] + + + GEVRILLIERE + + Thanks to you, sir, for this high privilege + Of hailing England, and of entering here. + Without a fore-extended confidence + Like this of yours, my plans would not have sped. [A Pause.] + Europe, alas! sir, has her waiting foot + Upon the sill of further slaughter-scenes! + + + FOX + + I fear it is so!--In your lines you wrote, + I think, that you are a true Frenchman born? + + + GEVRILLIERE + + I did, sir. + + FOX + + How contrived you, then, to cross? + + + GEVRILLIERE + + It was from Embden that I shipped for Gravesend, + In a small sailer called the “Toby,” sir, + Masked under Prussian colours. Embden I reached + On foot, on horseback, and by sundry shifts, + From Paris over Holland, secretly. + + + FOX + + And you are stored with tidings of much pith, + Whose tenour would be priceless to the state? + + + GEVRILLIERE + + I am. It is, in brief, no more nor less + Than means to mitigate and even end + These welfare-wasting wars; ay, usher in + A painless spell of peace. + + + FOX + + Prithee speak on. + No statesman can desire it more than I. + + + GEVRILLIERE [looking to see that the door is shut] + + No nation, sir, can live its natural life, + Or think its thoughts in these days unassailed, + No crown-capt head enjoy tranquillity. + The fount of such high spring-tide of disorder, + Fevered disquietude, and forceful death, + Is One,--a single man. He--need I name?-- + The ruler is of France. + + + FOX + + Well, in the past + I fear that it has liked so. But we see + Good reason still to hope that broadening views, + Politer wisdom now is helping him + To saner guidance of his arrogant car. + + + GEVRILLIERE + + The generous hope will never be fulfilled! + Ceasing to bluff, then ceases he to be. + None sees that written largelier than himself. + + + FOX + + Then what may be the valued revelation + That you can unlock in such circumstance? + Sir, I incline to spell you as a spy, + And not the honest help for honest men + You gave you out to be! + + GEVRILLIERE + + I beg, sir, + To spare me that suspicion. Never a thought + Could be more groundless. Solemnly I vow + That notwithstanding what his signals show + The Emperor of France is as I say.-- + Yet bring I good assurance, and declare + A medicine for all bruised Europe's sores! + + + FOX [impatiently] + + Well, parley to the point, for I confess + No new negotiation do I note + That you can open up to work such cure. + + + GEVRILLIERE + + The sovereign remedy for an ill effect + Is the extinction of its evil cause. + Safely and surely how to compass this + I have the weighty honour to disclose, + Certain immunities being guaranteed + By those your power can influence, and yourself. + + + FOX [astonished] + + Assassination? + + + GEVRILLIERE + + I care not for names! + A deed's true name is as its purpose is. + The lexicon of Liberty and Peace + Defines not this deed as assassination; + Though maybe it is writ so in the tongue + Of courts and universal tyranny. + + FOX + + Why brought you this proposal here to me? + + + GEVRILLIERE + + My knowledge of your love of things humane, + Things free, things fair, of truth, of tolerance, + Right, justice, national felicity, + Prompted belief and hope in such a man!-- + The matter is by now well forwarded, + A house at Plassy hired as pivot-point + From which the sanct intention can be worked, + And soon made certain. To our good allies + No risk attaches; merely to ourselves. + + + FOX [touching a private bell] + + Sir, your unconscienced hardihood confounds me. + And your mind's measure of my character + Insults it sorely. By your late-sent lines + Of specious import, by your bland address, + I have been led to prattle hopefully + With a cut-throat confessed! + + [The head constable and the secretary enter at the same moment.] + + Ere worse befall, + Sir, up and get you gone most dexterously! + Conduct this man: lose never sight of him [to the officer] + Till haled aboard some anchor-weighing craft + Bound to remotest coasts from us and France. + + + GEVRILLIERE [unmoved] + + How you may handle me concerns me little. + The project will as roundly ripe itself + Without as with me. Trusty souls remain, + Though my far bones bleach white on austral shores!-- + I thank you for the audience. Long ere this + I might have reft your life! Ay, notice here-- + + [He produces a dagger; which is snatched from him.] + + They need not have done that! Even had you risen + To wrestle with, insult, strike, pinion me, + It would have lain unused. In hands like mine + And my allies', the man of peace is safe, + Treat as he may our corporal tenement + In his misreading of a moral code. + + [Exeunt GEVRILLIERE and the constable.] + + + FOX + + Trotter, indeed you well may stare at me! + I look warm, eh?--and I am windless, too; + I have sufficient reason to be so. + That dignified and pensive gentleman + Was a bold bravo, waiting for his chance. + He sketched a scheme for murdering Bonaparte, + Either--as in my haste I understood-- + By shooting from a window as he passed, + Or by some other wry and stealthy means + That haunt sad brains which brood on despotism, + But lack the tools to justly cope therewith!... + On later thoughts I feel not fully sure + If, in my ferment, I did right in this. + No; hail at once the man in charge of him, + And give the word that he is to be detained. + + [The secretary goes out. FOX walks to the window in deep + reflection till the secretary returns.] + + + SECRETARY + + I was in time, sir. He has been detained. + + + FOX + + Now what does strict state-honour ask of me?-- + No less than that I bare this poppling plot + To the French ruler and our fiercest foe!-- + Maybe 'twas but a hoax to pocket pay; + And yet it can mean more... + The man's indifference to his own vague doom + Beamed out as one exalted trait in him, + And showed the altitude of his rash dream!-- + Well, now I'll get me on to Downing Street, + There to draw up a note to Talleyrand + Retailing him the facts.--What signature + Subscribed this desperate fellow when he wrote? + + + SECRETARY + + “Guillet de la Gevrilliere.” Here it stands. + + + FOX + + Doubtless it was a false one. Come along. [Looking out the window.] + Ah--here's Sir Francis Vincent: he'll go with us. + Ugh, what a twinge! Time signals that he draws + Towards the twelfth stroke of my working-day! + I fear old England soon must voice her speech + With Europe through another mouth than mine! + + + SECRETARY + + I trust not, sir. Though you should rest awhile. + The very servants half are invalid + From the unceasing labours of your post, + And these cloaked visitors of every clime + That market on your magnanimity + To gain an audience morning, night, and noon, + Leaving you no respite. + + + FOX + + 'Tis true; 'tis true.-- + How I shall love my summer holiday + At pleasant Saint-Ann's Hill! + + [He leans on the secretary's arm, and they go out.] + + + + SCENE II + + THE ROUTE BETWEEN LONDON AND PARIS + + [A view now nocturnal, now diurnal, from on high over the Straits + of Dover, and stretching from city to city. By night Paris and + London seem each as a little swarm of lights surrounded by a halo; + by day as a confused glitter of white and grey. The Channel + between them is as a mirror reflecting the sky, brightly or + faintly, as the hour may be.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + What mean these couriers shooting shuttlewise + To Paris and to London, turn and turn? + + + RUMOURS [chanting in antiphons] + + I + + The aforesaid tidings fro the minister, spokesman in England's + cause to states afar, + + + II + + Traverse the waters borne by one of such; and thereto Bonaparte's + responses are: + + I + + “The principles of honour and of truth which ever actuate the + sender's mind + + + II + + “Herein are written largely! Take our thanks: we read that + this conjuncture undesigned + + + I + + “Unfolds felicitous means of showing you that still our eyes + are set, as yours, on peace, + + + II + + “To which great end the Treaty of Amiens must be the ground- + work of our amities.” + + + I + + From London then: “The path to amity the King of England + studies to pursue; + + + II + + “With Russia hand in hand he is yours to close the long + convulsions thrilling Europe through.” + + + I + + Still fare the shadowy missioners across, by Dover-road and + Calais Channel-track, + + + II + + From Thames-side towers to Paris palace-gates; from Paris + leisurely to London back. + + + I + + Till thus speaks France: “Much grief it gives us that, being + pledged to treat, one Emperor with one King, + + + II + + “You yet have struck a jarring counternote and tone that keys + not with such promising. + + + I + + “In these last word, then, of this pregnant parle; I trust I + may persuade your Excellency + + + II + + “That in no circumstance, on no pretence, a party to our pact can + Russia be.” + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Fortunately for the manufacture of corpses by machinery Napoleon + sticks to this veto, and so wards off the awkward catastrophe of + a general peace descending upon Europe. Now England. + + + RUMOURS [continuing] + + I + + Thereon speeds down through Kent and Picardy, evenly as some + southing sky-bird's shade: + + + II + + “We gather not from your Imperial lines a reason why our words + should be reweighed. + + I + + “We hold Russia not as our ally that is to be: she stands fully- + plighted so; + + + II + + “Thus trembles peace upon this balance-point: will you that + Russia be let in or no?” + + + I + + Then France rolls out rough words across the strait: “To treat + with you confederate with the Tsar, + + + II + + “Presumes us sunk in sloughs of shamefulness from which we yet + stand gloriously afar! + + + I + + “The English army must be Flanders-fed, and entering Picardy with + pompous prance, + + + II + + “To warrant such! Enough. Our comfort is, the crime of further + strife lies not with France.” + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Alas! what prayer will save the struggling lands, + Whose lives are ninepins to these bowling hands? + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS + + France secretly with--Russia plights her troth! + Britain, that lonely isle, is slurred by both. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + It is as neat as an uncovered check at chess! You may now mark + Fox's blank countenance at finding himself thus rewarded for the + good turn done to Bonaparte, and at the extraordinary conduct of + his chilly friend the Muscovite. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + His hand so trembles it can scarce retain + The quill wherewith he lets Lord Yarmouth know + Reserve is no more needed! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Now enters another character of this remarkable little piece--Lord + Lauderdale--and again the messengers fly! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + But what strange figure, pale and noiseless, comes, + By us perceived, unrecognized by those, + Into the very closet and retreat + Of England's Minister? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + The Tipstaff he + Of the Will, the Many-masked, my good friend Death.-- + The statesman's feeble form you may perceive + Now hustled into the Invisible, + And the unfinished game of Dynasties + Left to proceed without him! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Here, then, ends + My hope for Europe's reason-wrought repose! + He was the friend of peace--did his great best + To shed her balms upon humanity; + And now he's gone! No substitute remains. + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Ay; the remainder of the episode is frankly farcical. Negotiations + are again affected; but finally you discern Lauderdale applying for + passports; and the English Parliament declares to the nation that + peace with France cannot be made. + + + RUMOURS [concluding] + + I + + The smouldering dudgeon of the Prussian king, meanwhile, upon the + horizon's rim afar + + + II + + Bursts into running flame, that all his signs of friendliness were + met by moves for war. + + + I + + Attend and hear, for hear ye faintly may, his manifesto made at + Erfurt town, + + + II + + That to arms only dares he now confide the safety and the honour + of his crown! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Draw down the curtain, then, and overscreen + This too-protracted verbal fencing-scene; + And let us turn to clanging foot and horse, + Ordnance, and all the enginry of Force! + + [Clouds close over the perspective.] + + + + SCENE III + + THE STREETS OF BERLIN + + [It is afternoon, and the thoroughfares are crowded with citizens + in an excited and anxious mood. A central path is left open for + some expected arrival. + + There enters on horseback a fair woman, whose rich brown curls + stream flutteringly in the breeze, and whose long blue habit + flaps against the flank of her curvetting white mare. She is + the renowned LOUISA, QUEEN OF PRUSSIA, riding at the head of a + regiment of hussars and wearing their uniform. As she prances + along the thronging citizens acclaim her enthusiastically.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Who is this fragile fair, in fighting trim? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + She is the pride of Prussia, whose resolve + Gives ballast to the purpose of her spouse, + And holds him to what men call governing. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Queens have engaged in war; but war's loud trade + Rings with a roar unnatural, fitful, forced, + Practised by woman's hands! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Of her view + The enterprise is that of scores of men, + The strength but half-a-ones. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Would fate had ruled + The valour had been his, hers but the charm! + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + But he has nothing on't, and she has all. + The shameless satires of the bulletins + dispatched to Paris, thence the wide world through, + Disturb the dreams of her by those who love her, + And thus her brave adventurers for the realm + Have blurred her picture, soiled her gentleness, + And wrought her credit harm. + + + FIRST CITIZEN [vociferously] + + Yes, by God: send and ultimatum to Paris, by God; that's what we'll + do, by God. The Confederation of the Rhine was the evil thought of + an evil man bent on ruining us! + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + This country double-faced and double-tongued, + This France, or rather say, indeed, this Man-- + [Peoples are honest dealers in the mass]-- + This man, to sign a stealthy scroll with Russia + That shuts us off from all indemnities, + While swearing faithful friendship with our King, + And, still professing our safe wardenry, + To fatten other kingdoms at our cost, + Insults us grossly, and makes Europe clang + With echoes of our wrongs. The little states + Of this antique and homely German land + Are severed from their blood-allies and kin-- + Hereto of one tradition, interest, hope-- + In calling lord this rank adventurer, + Who'll thrust them as a sword against ourselves.-- + Surely Great Frederick sweats within his tomb! + + + THIRD CITIZEN + + Well, we awake, though we have slumbered long, + And She is sent by Heaven to kindle us. + + [The QUEEN approaches to pass back again with her suite. The + vociferous applause is repeated. They regard her as she nears.] + + To cry her Amazon, a blusterer, + A brazen comrade of the bold dragoons + Whose uniform she dons! Her, whose each act + Shows but a mettled modest woman's zeal, + Without a hazard of her dignity + Or moment's sacrifice of seemliness, + To fend off ill from home! + + + FOURTH CITIZEN [entering] + + The tidings fly that Russian Alexander + Declines with emphasis to ratify + The pact of his ambassador with France, + And that the offer made the English King + To compensate the latter at our cost + Has not been taken. + + THIRD CITIZEN + + And it never will be! + Thus evil does not always flourish, faith. + Throw down the gage while god is fair to us; + He may be foul anon! + + [A pause.] + + + FIFTH CITIZEN [entering] + + Our ambassador Lucchesini is already leaving Paris. He could stand + the Emperor no longer, so the Emperor takes his place, has decided + to order his snuff by the ounce and his candles by the pound, lest + he should not be there long enough to use more. + + [The QUEEN goes by, and they gaze at here and at the escort of + soldiers.] + + Haven't we soldiers? Haven't we the Duke of Brunswick to command + 'em? Haven't we provisions, hey? Haven't we fortresses and an + Elbe, to bar the bounce of an invader? + + [The cavalcade passes out of sight and the crowd draws off.] + + FIRST CITIZEN + + By God, I must to beer and 'bacco, to soften my rage! + + [Exeunt citizens.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + So doth the Will objectify Itself + In likeness of a sturdy people's wrath, + Which takes no count of the new trends of time, + Trusting ebbed glory in a present need.-- + What if their strength should equal not their fire, + And their devotion dull their vigilance?-- + Uncertainly, by fits, the Will doth work + In Brunswick's blood, their chief, as in themselves; + It ramifies in streams that intermit + And make their movement vague, old-fashioned, slow + To foil the modern methods counterposed! + + [Evening descends on the city, and it grows dusk. The soldiers + being dismissed from duty, some young officers in a frolic of + defiance halt, draw their swords and whet them on the steps of + the FRENCH AMBASSADOR'S residence as they pass. The noise of + whetting is audible through the street.] + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + The soul of a nation distrest + Is aflame, + And heaving with eager unrest + In its aim + To assert its old prowess, and stouten its chronicled fame! + + + SEMICHORUS I + + It boils in a boisterous thrill + Through the mart, + Unconscious well-nigh as the Will + Of its part: + Would it wholly might be so, and feel not the forthcoming smart! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + In conclaves no voice of reflection + Is heard, + King, Councillors, grudge circumspection + A word, + And victory is visioned, and seemings as facts are averred. + + + CHORUS + + Yea, the soul of a nation distrest + Is aflame, + And heaving with eager unrest + In its aim + At supreme desperations to blazon the national name! + + [Midnight strikes, lights are extinguished one by one, and the + scene disappears.] + + + + SCENE IV + + THE FIELD OF JENA + + [Day has just dawned through a grey October haze. The French, + with their backs to the nebulous light, loom out and show + themselves to be already under arms; LANNES holding the centre, + NEY the right, SOULT the extreme right, and AUGEREAU the left. + The Imperial Guard and MURAT'S cavalry are drawn up on the + Landgrafenberg, behind the centre of the French position. In + a valley stretching along to the rear of this height flows + northward towards the Elbe the little river Saale, on which + the town of Jena stands. + + On the irregular plateaux in front of the French lines, and almost + close to the latter, are the Prussians un TAUENZIEN; and away on + their right rear towards Weimar the bulk of the army under PRINCE + HOHENLOHE. The DUKE OF BRUNSWICK [father of the Princess of + Wales] is twelve miles off with his force at Auerstadt, in the + valley of the Ilm. + + Enter NAPOLEON, and men bearing torches who escort him. He moves + along the front of his troops, and is lost to view behind the + mist and surrounding objects. But his voice is audible.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Keep you good guard against their cavalry, + In past repute the formidablest known, + And such it may be now; so asks our heed. + Receive it, then, in square, unflinchingly.-- + Remember, men, last year you captured Ulm, + So make no doubt that you will vanquish these! + + + SOLDIERS + + Long live the Emperor! Advance, advance! + + + DUMB SHOW + + Almost immediately glimpses reveal that LANNES' corps is moving + forward, and amid an unbroken clatter of firelocks spreads out + further and wider upon the stretch of country in front of the + Landgrafenberg. The Prussians, surprised at discerning in the + fog such masses of the enemy close at hand, recede towards the + Ilm. + + From PRINCE HOHENLOHE, who is with the body of the Prussians on + the Weimar road to the south, comes perspiring the bulk of the + infantry to rally the retreating regiments of TAUENZIEN, and he + hastens up himself with the cavalry and artillery. The action + is renewed between him and NEY as the clocks of Jena strike ten. + + But AUGEREAU is seen coming to Ney's assistance on one flank of + the Prussians, SOULT bearing down on the other, while NAPOLEON + on the Landgrafenberg orders the Imperial Guard to advance. The + doomed Prussians are driven back, this time more decisively, + falling in great numbers and losing many as prisoners as they + reel down the sloping land towards the banks of the Ilm behind + them. GENERAL RUCHEL, in a last despairing effort to rally, + faces the French onset in person and alone. He receives a bullet + through the chest and falls dead. + + The crisis of the struggle is reached, though the battle is not + over. NAPOLEON, discerning from the Landgrafenberg that the + decisive moment has come, directs MURAT to sweep forward with all + his cavalry. It engages the shattered Prussians, surrounds them, + and cuts them down by thousands. + + From behind the horizon, a dozen miles off, between the din of guns + in the visible battle, there can be heard an ominous roar, as of a + second invisible battle in progress there. Generals and other + officers look at each other and hazard conjectures between whiles, + the French with exultation, the Prussians gloomily. + + + HOHENLOHE + + That means the Duke of Brunswick, I conceive, + Impacting on the enemy's further force + Led by, they say, Davout and Bernadotte. + God grant his star less lurid rays then ours, + Or this too pregnant, hoarsely-groaning day + Shall, ere its loud delivery be done, + Have twinned disasters to the fatherland + That fifty years will fail to sepulchre! + + + Enter a straggler on horseback. + + + STRAGGLER + + Prince, I have circuited by Auerstadt, + And bring ye dazzling tidings of the fight, + Which, if report by those who saw't be true, + Has raged thereat from clammy day-dawn on, + And left us victors! + + + HOHENLOHE + + Thitherward go I, + And patch the mischief wrought upon us here! + + + Enter a second and then a third straggler. + + Well, wet-faced men, whence come ye? What d'ye bring? + + + STRAGGLER II + + Your Highness, I rode straight from Hassenhausen, + Across the stream of battle as it boiled + Betwixt that village and the banks of Saale, + And such the turmoil that no man could speak + On what the issue was! + + + HOHENLOHE [To Straggler III] + + Can you add aught? + + + STRAGGLER III + + Nothing that's clear, your Highness. + + + HOHENLOHE + + Man, your mien + Is that of one who knows, but will not say. + Detain him here. + + + STRAGGLER III + + The blackness of my news, + Your Highness, darks my sense!... I saw this much: + His charging grenadiers, received in the face + A grape-shot stroke that gouged out half of it, + Proclaiming then and there his life fordone. + + + HOHENLOHE + + Fallen? Brunswick! Reed in council, rock in fire... + Ah, this he looked for. Many a time of late + Has he, by some strange gift of foreknowing, + Declared his fate was hovering in such wise! + + + STRAGGLER III + + His aged form being borne beyond the strife, + The gallant Moellendorf, in flushed despair, + Swore he would not survive; and, pressing on, + He, too, was slaughtered. Patriotic rage + Brimmed marshals' breasts and men's. The King himself + Fought like the commonest. But nothing served. + His horse is slain; his own doom yet unknown. + Prince William, too, is wounded. Brave Schmettau + Is broke; himself disabled. All give way, + And regiments crash like trees at felling-time! + + + HOHENLOHE + + No more. We match it here. The yielding lines + Still sweep us backward. Backward we must go! + + [Exeunt HOHENLOHE, Staff, stragglers, etc.] + + + The Prussian retreat from Jena quickens to a rout, many thousands + taken prisoners by MURAT, who pursues them to Weimar, where the + inhabitants fly shrieking through the streets. + + The October day closes in to evening. By this time the troops + retiring with the King of Prussia from the second battlefield + of Auerstadt have intersected RUCHEL'S and HOHENLOHE'S flying + battalions from Jena. The crossing streams of fugitives strike + panic into each other, and the tumult increases with the + thickening darkness till night renders the scene invisible, + and nothing remains but a confused diminishing noise, and fitful + lights here and there. + + + + SCENE V + + BERLIN. A ROOM OVERLOOKING A PUBLIC PLACE + + [A fluttering group of ladies is gathered at the window, gazing + out and conversing anxiously. The time draws towards noon, when + the clatter of a galloping horse's hoofs is heard echoing up the + long Potsdamer-Strasse, and presently turning into the Leipziger- + Strasse reaches the open space commanded by the ladies' outlook. + It ceases before a Government building opposite them, and the + rider disappears into the courtyard.] + + + FIRST LADY + + Yes: surely he is a courier from the field! + + + SECOND LADY + + Shall we not hasten down, and take from him + The doom his tongue may deal us? + + + THIRD LADY + + We shall catch + As soon by watching here as hastening hence + The tenour of his new. [They wait.] Ah, yes: see--see + The bulletin is straightway to be nailed! + He was, then, from the field.... + + [They wait on while the bulletin is affixed.] + + + SECOND LADY + + I cannot scan the words the scroll proclaims; + Peer as I will, these too quick-thronging dreads + Bring water to the eyes. Grant us, good Heaven, + That victory be where she is needed most + To prove Thy goodness!... What do you make of it? + + + THIRD LADY [reading, through a glass] + + “The battle strains us sorely; but resolve + May save us even now. Our last attack + Has failed, with fearful loss. Once more we strive.” + + [A long silence in the room. Another rider is heard approaching, + above the murmur of the gathering citizens. The second lady + looks out.] + + + SECOND LADY + + A straggler merely he.... But they decide, + At last, to post his news, wild-winged or no. + + + THIRD LADY [reading again through her glass] + + “The Duke of Brunswick, leading on a charge, + Has met his death-doom. Schmettau, too, is slain; + Prince William wounded. But we stand as yet, + Engaging with the last of our reserves.” + + [The agitation in the street communicates itself to the room. + Some of the ladies weep silently as they wait, much longer this + time. Another horseman is at length heard clattering into the + Platz, and they lean out again with painful eagerness.] + + + SECOND LADY + + An adjutant of Marshal Moellendorf's + If I define him rightly. Read--O read!-- + Though reading draw them from their socket-holes + Use your eyes now! + + + THIRD LADY [glass up] + + As soon as 'tis affixed.... + Ah--this means much! The people's air and gait + Too well betray disaster. [Reading.] “Berliners, + The King has lost the battle! Bear it well. + The foremost duty of a citizen + Is to maintain a brave tranquillity. + This is what I, the Governor, demand + Of men and women now.... The King lives still.” + + [They turn from the window and sit in a silence broken only by + monosyllabic words, hearing abstractedly the dismay without + that has followed the previous excitement and hope. + + The stagnation is ended by a cheering outside, of subdued + emotional quality, mixed with sounds of grief. They again + look forth. QUEEN LOUISA is leaving the city with a very + small escort, and the populace seem overcome. They strain + their eyes after her as she disappears. Enter fourth lady.] + + FIRST LADY + + How does she bear it? Whither does she go? + + + FOURTH LADY + + She goes to join the King at Custrin, there + To abide events--as we. Her heroism + So schools her sense of her calamities + As out of grief to carve new queenliness, + And turn a mobile mien to statuesque, + Save for a sliding tear. + + [The ladies leave the window severally.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + So the Will plays at flux and reflux still. + This monarchy, one-half whose pedestal + Is built of Polish bones, has bones home-made! + Let the fair woman bear it. Poland did. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Meanwhile the mighty Emperor nears apace, + And soon will glitter at the city gates + With palpitating drums, and breathing brass, + And rampant joyful-jingling retinue. + + [An evening mist cloaks the scene.] + + + + SCENE VI + + THE SAME + + [It is a brilliant morning, with a fresh breeze, and not a cloud. + The open Platz and the adjoining streets are filled with dense + crowds of citizens, in whose upturned faces curiosity has + mastered consternation and grief. + + Martial music is heard, at first faint, then louder, followed + by a trampling of innumerable horses and a clanking of arms and + accoutrements. Through a street on the right hand of the view + from the windows come troops of French dragoons heralding the + arrival of BONAPARTE. + + Re-enter the room hurriedly and cross to the windows several + ladies as before, some in tears.] + + + FIRST LADY + + The kingdom late of Prussia, can it be + That thus it disappears?--a patriot-cry, + A battle, bravery, ruin; and no more? + + + SECOND LADY + + Thank God the Queen's gone! + + + THIRD LADY + + To what sanctuary? + From earthquake shocks there is no sheltering cell! + --Is this what men call conquest? Must it close + As historied conquests do, or be annulled + By modern reason and the urbaner sense?-- + Such issue none would venture to predict, + Yet folly 'twere to nourish foreshaped fears + And suffer in conjecture and in deed.-- + If verily our country be dislimbed, + Then at the mercy of his domination + The face of earth will lie, and vassal kings + Stand waiting on himself the Overking, + Who ruling rules all; till desperateness + Sting and excite a bonded last resistance, + And work its own release. + + + SECOND LADY + + He comes even now + From sacrilege. I learn that, since the fight, + In marching here by Potsdam yesterday, + Sans-Souci Palace drew his curious feet, + Where even great Frederick's tomb was bared to him. + + + FOURTH LADY + + All objects on the Palace--cared for, kept + Even as they were when our arch-monarch died-- + The books, the chair, the inkhorn, and the pen + He quizzed with flippant curiosity; + And entering where our hero's bones are urned + He seized the sword and standards treasured there, + And with a mixed effrontery and regard + Declared they should be all dispatched to Paris + As gifts to the Hotel des Invalides. + + + THIRD LADY + + Such rodomontade is cheap: what matters it! + + [A galaxy of marshals, forming Napoleon's staff, now enters the + Platz immediately before the windows. In the midst rides the + EMPEROR himself. The ladies are silent. The procession passes + along the front until it reaches the entrance to the Royal Palace. + At the door NAPOLEON descends from his horse and goes into the + building amid the resonant trumpetings of his soldiers and the + silence of the crowd.] + + + SECOND LADY [impressed] + + O why does such a man debase himself + By countenancing loud scurrility + Against a queen who cannot make reprise! + A power so ponderous needs no littleness-- + The last resort of feeble desperates! + + [Enter fifth lady.] + + + FIFTH LADY [breathlessly] + + Humiliation grows acuter still. + He placards rhetoric to his soldiery + On their distress of us and our allies, + Declaring he'll not stack away his arms + Till he has choked the remaining foes of France + In their own gainful glut.--Whom means he, think you? + + + FIRST LADY + + Us? + + + THIRD LADY + + Russia? Austria? + + + FIFTH LADY + + Neither: England.--Yea, + Her he still holds the master mischief-mind, + And marrer of the countries' quietude, + By exercising untold tyranny + Over all the ports and seas. + + + SECOND LADY + + Then England's doomed! + When he has overturned the Russian rule, + England comes next for wrack. They say that know!... + Look--he has entered by the Royal doors + And makes the Palace his.--Now let us go!-- + Our course, alas! is--whither? + + [Exeunt ladies. The curtain drops temporarily.] + + + SEMICHORUS I OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music] + + Deeming himself omnipotent + With the Kings of the Christian continent, + To warden the waves was his further bent. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + But the weaving Will from eternity, + [Hemming them in by a circling sea] + Evolved the fleet of the Englishry. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + The wane of his armaments ill-advised, + At Trafalgar, to a force despised, + Was a wound which never has cicatrized. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + This, O this is the cramp that grips! + And freezes the Emperor's finger-tips + From signing a peace with the Land of Ships. + + + CHORUS + + The Universal-empire plot + Demands the rule of that wave-walled spot; + And peace with England cometh not! + + + THE SCENE REOPENS + + [A lurid gloom now envelops the Platz and city; and Bonaparte + is heard as from the Palace: + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON + + These monstrous violations being in train + Of law and national integrities + By English arrogance in things marine, + [Which dares to capture simple merchant-craft, + In honest quest of harmless merchandize, + For crime of kinship to a hostile power] + Our vast, effectual, and majestic strokes + In this unmatched campaign, enable me + To bar from commerce with the Continent + All keels of English frame. Hence I decree:-- + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + This outlines his renowned “Berlin Decree.” + Maybe he meditates its scheme in sleep, + Or hints it to his suite, or syllables it + While shaping, to his scribes. + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON + + All England's ports to suffer strict blockade; + All traffic with that land to cease forthwith; + All natives of her isles, wherever met, + To be detained as windfalls of the war. + All chattels of her make, material, mould, + To be good prize wherever pounced upon: + And never a bottom hailing from her shores + But shall be barred from every haven here. + This for her monstrous harms to human rights, + And shameless sauciness to neighbour powers! + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + I spell herein that our excellently high-coloured drama is not + played out yet! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Nor will it be for many a month of moans, + And summer shocks, and winter-whitened bones. + + [The night gets darker, and the Palace outlines are lost.] + + + + SCENE VII + + TILSIT AND THE RIVER NIEMEN + + [The scene is viewed from the windows of BONAPARTE'S temporary + quarters. Some sub-officers of his suite are looking out upon + it. + + It is the day after midsummer, about one o'clock. A multitude + of soldiery and spectators lines each bank of the broad river + which, stealing slowly north-west, bears almost exactly in its + midst a moored raft of bonded timber. On this as a floor stands + a gorgeous pavilion of draped woodwork, having at each side, + facing the respective banks of the stream, a round-headed doorway + richly festooned. The cumbersome erection acquires from the + current a rhythmical movement, as if it were breathing, and the + breeze now and then produces a shiver on the face of the stream.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + On the south-west or Prussian side rides the EMPEROR NAPOLEON + in uniform, attended by the GRAND DUKE OF BERG, the PRINCE OF + NEUFCHATEL, MARSHAL BESSIERES, DUROC Marshal of the Palace, and + CAULAINCOURT Master of the Horse. The EMPEROR looks well, but is + growing fat. They embark on an ornamental barge in front of them, + which immediately puts off. It is now apparent to the watchers + that a precisely similar enactment has simultaneously taken place + on the opposite or Russian bank, the chief figure being the + EMPEROR ALEXANDER--a graceful, flexible man of thirty, with a + courteous manner and good-natured face. He has come out from + an inn on that side accompanied by the GRAND DUKE CONSTANTINE, + GENERAL BENNIGSEN, GENERAL OUWAROFF, PRINCE LABANOFF, and ADJUTANT- + GENERAL COUNT LIEVEN. + + The two barges draw towards the raft, reaching the opposite sides + of it about the same time, amidst discharges of cannon. Each + Emperor enters the door that faces him, and meeting in the centre + of the pavilion they formally embrace each other. They retire + together to the screened interior, the suite of each remaining in + the outer half of the pavilion. + + More than an hour passes while they are thus invisible. The French + officers who have observed the scene from the lodging of NAPOLEON + walk about idly, and ever and anon go curiously to the windows, + again to watch the raft. + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + The prelude to this smooth scene--mark well!--were the shocks + whereof the times gave token + Vaguely to us ere last year's snows shut over Lithuanian pine + and pool, + Which we told at the fall of the faded leaf, when the pride of + Prussia was bruised and broken, + And the Man of Adventure sat in the seat of the Man of Method + and rigid Rule. + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES + + Snows incarnadined were thine, O Eylau, field of the wide white + spaces, + And frozen lakes, and frozen limbs, and blood iced hard as it left + the veins: + Steel-cased squadrons swathed in cloud-drift, plunging to doom + through pathless places, + And forty thousand dead and near dead, strewing the early-lighted + plains. + Friedland to these adds its tale of victims, its midnight marches + and hot collisions, + Its plunge, at his word, on the enemy hooped by the bended river + and famed Mill stream, + As he shatters the moves of the loose-knit nations to curb his + exploitful soul's ambitions, + And their great Confederacy dissolves like the diorama of a dream. + + + DUMB SHOW [continues] + + NAPOLEON and ALEXANDER emerge from their seclusion, and each is + beheld talking to the suite of his companion apparently in + flattering compliment. An effusive parting, which signifies + itself to be but temporary, is followed by their return to the + river shores amid the cheers of the spectators. + + NAPOLEON and his marshals arrive at the door of his quarters and + enter, and pass out of sight to other rooms than that of the + foreground in which the observers are loitering. Dumb show ends. + + [A murmured conversation grows audible, carried on by two persons + in the crowd beneath the open windows. Their dress being the + native one, and their tongue unfamiliar, they seem to the officers + to be merely inhabitants gossiping; and their voices continue + unheeded.] + + + FIRST ENGLISH SPY[14] [below] + + Did you get much for me to send on? + + + SECOND ENGLISH SPY + + Much; and startling, too. “Why are we at war?” says Napoleon when + they met.--“Ah--why!” said t'other.--“Well,” said Boney, “I am + fighting you only as an ally of the English, and you are simply + serving them, and not yourself, in fighting me.”--“In that case,” + says Alexander, “we shall soon be friends, for I owe her as great + a grudge as you.” + + + FIRST SPY + + Dammy, go that length, did they! + + + SECOND SPY + + Then they plunged into the old story about English selfishness, + and greed, and duplicity. But the climax related to Spain, and + it amounted to this: they agreed that the Bourbons of the Spanish + throne should be made to abdicate, and Bonaparte's relations set + up as sovereigns instead of them. + + + FIRST SPY + + Somebody must ride like hell to let our Cabinet know! + + + SECOND SPY + + I have written it down in cipher, not to trust to memory, and to + guard against accidents.--They also agree that France should have + the Pope's dominions, Malta, and Egypt; that Napoleon's brother + Joseph should have Sicily as well as Naples, and that they would + partition the Ottoman Empire between them. + + + FIRST SPY + + Cutting up Europe like a plum-pudding. Par nobile fratrum! + + + SECOND SPY + + Then they worthy pair came to poor Prussia, whom Alexander, they + say, was anxious about, as he is under engagements to her. It + seems that Napoleon agrees to restore to the King as many of his + states as will cover Alexander's promise, so that the Tsar may + feel free to strike out in this new line with his new friend. + + + FIRST SPY + + Surely this is but surmise? + + + SECOND SPY + + Not at all. One of the suite overheard, and I got round him. There + was much more, which I did not learn. But they are going to soothe + and flatter the unfortunate King and Queen by asking them to a banquet + here. + + + FIRST SPY + + Such a spirited woman will never come! + + + SECOND SPY + + We shall see. Whom necessity compels needs must: and she has gone + through an Iliad of woes! + + + FIRST SPY + + It is this Spanish business that will stagger England, by God! And + now to let her know it. + + + FRENCH SUBALTERN [looking out above] + + What are those townspeople talking about so earnestly, I wonder? The + lingo of this place has an accent akin to English. + + + SECOND SUBALTERN + + No doubt because the races are both Teutonic. + + [The spies observe that they are noticed, and disappear in the + crowd. The curtain drops.] + + + + SCENE VIII + + THE SAME + + [The midsummer sun is low, and a long table in the aforeshown + apartment is laid out for a dinner, among the decorations being + bunches of the season's roses. + + At the vacant end of the room [divided from the dining end by + folding-doors, now open] there are discovered the EMPEROR NAPOLEON, + the GRAND-DUKE CONSTANTINE, PRINCE HENRY OF PRUSSIA, the PRINCE + ROYAL OF BAVARIA, the GRAND DUKE OF BERG, and attendant officers. + + Enter the TSAR ALEXANDER. NAPOLEON welcomes him, and the twain + move apart from the rest. BONAPARTE placing a chair for his + visitor and flinging himself down on another.] + + + NAPOLEON + + The comforts I can offer are not great, + Nor is the accommodation more than scant + That falls to me for hospitality; + But, as it is, accept. + + + ALEXANDER + + It serves well. + And to unbrace the bandages of state + Is as clear air to incense-stifled souls. + What of the Queen? + + + NAPOLEON + + She's coming with the King. + We have some quarter-hour to spare or more + Before their Majesties are timed for us. + + + ALEXANDER + + Good. I would speak of them. That she should show here + After the late events, betokens much! + Abasement in so proud a woman's heart [His voice grows tremulous.] + Is not without a dash of painfulness. + And I beseech you, sire, that you hold out + Some soothing hope for her? + + + NAPOLEON + + I have, already!-- + Now, sire, to those affairs we entered on: + Strong friendship, grown secure, bids me repeat + That you have been much duped by your allies. + + [ALEXANDER shows mortification.] + + Prussia's a shuffler, England a self-seeker, + Nobility has shone in you alone. + Your error grew of over-generous dreams, + And misbeliefs by dullard ministers. + By treating personally we speed affairs + More in an hour than they in blundering months. + Between us two, henceforth, must stand no third. + There's peril in it, while England's mean ambition + Still works to get us skewered by the ears; + And in this view your chiefs-of-staff concur. + + + ALEXANDER + + The judgment of my officers I share. + + + NAPOLEON + + To recapitulate. Nothing can greaten you + Like this alliance. Providence has flung + My good friend Sultan Selim from his throne, + Leaving me free in dealings with the Porte; + And I discern the hour as one to end + A rule that Time no longer lets cohere. + If I abstain, its spoils will go to swell + The power of this same England, our annoy; + That country which enchains the trade of towns + With such bold reach as to monopolize, + Among the rest, the whole of Petersburg's-- + Ay!--through her purse, friend, as the lender there!-- + Shutting that purse, she may incite to--what? + Muscovy's fall, its ruler's murdering. + Her fleet at any minute can encoop + Yours in the Baltic; in the Black Sea, too; + And keep you snug as minnows in a glass! + + Hence we, fast-fellowed by our mutual foes, + Seaward the British, Germany by land, + And having compassed, for our common good, + The Turkish Empire's due partitioning, + As comrades can conjunctly rule the world + To its own gain and our eternal fame! + + + ALEXANDER [stirred and flushed] + + I see vast prospects opened!--yet, in truth, + Ere you, sire, broached these themes, their outlines loomed + Not seldom in my own imaginings; + But with less clear a vision than endows + So great a captain, statesman, philosoph, + As centre in yourself; whom had I known + Sooner by some few years, months, even weeks, + I had been spared full many a fault of rule. + --Now as to Austria. Should we call her in? + + + NAPOLEON + + Two in a bed I have slept, but never three. + + + ALEXANDER + + Ha-ha! Delightful. And, then nextly, Spain? + + + NAPOLEON + + I lighted on some letters at Berlin, + Wherein King Carlos offered to attack me. + A Bourbon, minded thus, so near as Spain, + Is dangerous stuff. He must be seen to soon!... + A draft, then, of our treaty being penned, + We will peruse it later. If King George + Will not, upon the terms there offered him, + Conclude a ready peace, he can be forced. + Trumpet yourself as France's firm ally, + And Austria will fain to do the same: + England, left nude to such joint harassment, + Must shiver--fall. + + + ALEXANDER [with naive enthusiasm] + + It is a great alliance! + + + NAPOLEON + + Would it were one in blood as well as brain-- + Of family hopes, and sweet domestic bliss! + + + ALEXANDER + + Ah--is it to my sister you refer? + + + NAPOLEON + + The launching of a lineal progeny + Has been much pressed upon me, much, of late, + For reasons which I will not dwell on now. + Staid counsellors, my brother Joseph, too, + Urge that I loose the Empress by divorce, + And re-wive promptly for the country's good. + Princesses even have been named for me!-- + However this, to-day, is premature, + And 'twixt ourselves alone.... + + The Queen of Prussia must ere long be here: + Berthier escorts her. And the King, too, comes. + She's one whom you admire? + + + ALEXANDER [reddening ingenuously] + + Yes.... Formerly + I had--did feel that some faint fascination + Vaguely adorned her form. And, to be plain, + Certain reports have been calumnious, + And wronged an honest woman. + + + NAPOLEON + + As I knew! + But she is wearing thready: why, her years + Must be full one-and-thirty, if she's one. + + + ALEXANDER [quickly] + + No, sire. She's twenty-nine. If traits teach more + It means that cruel memory gnaws at her + As fair inciter to that fatal war + Which broke her to the dust!... I do confess + [Since now we speak on't] that this sacrifice + Prussia is doomed to, still disquiets me. + Unhappy King! When I recall the oaths + Sworn him upon great Frederick's sepulchre, + And--and my promises to his sad Queen, + It pricks me that his realm and revenues + Should be stript down to the mere half they were! + + + NAPOLEON [cooly] + + Believe me, 'tis but my regard for you + Which lets me leave him that! Far easier 'twere + To leave him none at all. + + [He rises and goes to the window.] + + But here they are. + No; it's the Queen alone, with Berthier + As I directed. Then the King will follow. + + + ALEXANDER + + Let me, sire, urge your courtesy to bestow + Some gentle words on her? + + + NAPOLEON + + Ay, ay; I will. + + [Enter QUEEN LOUISA OF PRUSSIA on the arm of BERTHIER. She + appears in majestic garments and with a smile on her lips, so + that her still great beauty is impressive. But her eyes bear + traces of tears. She accepts NAPOLEON'S attentions with the + stormily sad air of a wounded beauty. Whilst she is being + received the KING arrives. He is a plain, shy, honest-faced, + awkward man, with a wrecked and solitary look. His manner to + NAPOLEON is, nevertheless, dignified, and even stiff. + + The company move into the inner half of the room, where the + tables are, and the folding-doors being shut, they seat themselves + at dinner, the QUEEN taking a place between NAPOLEON and ALEXANDER.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Madame, I love magnificent attire; + But in the present instance can but note + That each bright knot and jewel less adorns + The brighter wearer than the wearer it! + + + QUEEN [with a sigh] + + You praise one, sire, whom now the wanton world + Has learnt to cease from praising! But such words + From such a quarter are of worth no less. + + + NAPOLEON + + Of worth as candour, madame; not as gauge. + Your reach in rarity outsoars my scope. + Yet, do you know, a troop of my hussars, + That last October day, nigh captured you? + + + QUEEN + + Nay! Never a single Frenchman did I see. + + + NAPOLEON + + Not less it was that you exposed yourself, + And should have been protected. But at Weimar, + Had you but sought me, 'twould have bettered you. + + + QUEEN + + I had no zeal to meet you, sire, alas! + + + NAPOLEON [after a silence] + + And how at Memel do you sport with time? + + + QUEEN + + Sport? I!--I pore on musty chronicles, + And muse on usurpations long forgot, + And other historied dramas of high wrong! + + + NAPOLEON + + Why con not annals of your own rich age? + They treasure acts well fit for pondering. + + + QUEEN + + I am reminded too much of my age + By having had to live in it. May Heaven + Defend me now, and my wan ghost anon, + From conning it again! + + + NAPOLEON + + Alas, alas! + Too grievous, this, for one who is yet a queen! + + + QUEEN + + No; I have cause for vials more of grief.-- + Prussia was blind in blazoning her power + Against the Mage of Earth!... + The embers of great Frederick's deeds inflamed her: + His glories swelled her to her ruining. + Too well has she been punished! [Emotion stops her.] + + + ALEXANDER [in a low voice, looking anxiously at her] + + Say not so. + You speak as all were lost. Things are not thus! + Such desperation has unreason in it, + And bleeds the hearts that crave to comfort you. + + + NAPOLEON [to the King] + + I trust the treaty, further pondered, sire, + Has consolations? + + + KING [curtly] + + I am a luckless man; + And muster strength to bear my lucklessness + Without vain hope of consolations now. + One thing, at least, I trust I have shown you, sire + That _I_ provoked not this calamity! + At Anspach first my feud with you began-- + Anspach, my Eden, violated and shamed + By blushless tramplings of your legions there! + + + NAPOLEON + + It's rather late, methinks, to talk thus now. + + + KING [with more choler] + + Never too late for truth and plainspeaking! + + + NAPOLEON [blandly] + + To your ally, the Tsar, I must refer you. + He was it, and not I, who tempted you + To push for war, when Eylau must have shown + Your every profit to have lain in peace.-- + He can indemn; yes, much or small; and may. + + + KING [with a head-shake] + + I would make up, would well make up, my mind + To half my kingdom's loss, could in such limb + But Magdeburg not lie. Dear Magdeburg, + Place of my heart-hold; THAT I would retain! + + + NAPOLEON + + Our words take not such pattern as is wont + To grace occasions of festivity. + + [He turns brusquely from the King. The banquet proceeds with a + more general conversation. When finished a toast is proposed: + “The Freedom of the Seas,” and drunk with enthusiasm.] + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Another hit at England and her tubs! + I hear harsh echoes from her chalky chines. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + O heed not England now! Still read the Queen. + One grieves to see her spend her pretty spells + Upon the man who has so injured her. + + [They rise from table, and the folding-doors being opened they pass + into the adjoining room. + + Here are now assembled MURAT, TALLEYRAND, KOURAKIN, KALKREUTH, + BERTHIER, BESSIERES, CAULAINCOURT, LABANOFF, BENNIGSEN, and others. + NAPOLEON having spoken a few words here and there resumes his + conversation with QUEEN LOUISA, and parenthetically offers snuff + to the COUNTESS VOSS, her lady-in-waiting. TALLEYRAND, who has + observed NAPOLEON'S growing interest in the QUEEN, contrives to + get near him.] + + + TALLEYRAND [in a whisper] + + Sire, is it possible that you can bend + To let one woman's fairness filch from you + All the resplendent fortune that attends + The grandest victory of your grand career? + + [The QUEEN'S quick eye observes and flashes at the whisper, and + she obtains a word with the minister.] + + + QUEEN [sarcastically] + + I should infer, dear Monsieur Talleyrand, + Only two persons in the world regret + My having come to Tilsit. + + + TALLEYRAND + + Madame, two? + Can any!--who may such sad rascals be? + + + QUEEN + + You, and myself, Prince. [Gravely.] Yes! myself and you. + + [TALLEYRAND'S face becomes impassive, and he does not reply. + Soon the QUEEN prepares to leave, and NAPOLEON rejoins her.] + + + NAPOLEON [taking a rose from a vase] + + Dear Queen, do pray accept this little token + As souvenir of me before you go? + + [He offers her the rose, with his hand on his heart. She + hesitates, but accepts it.] + + + QUEEN [impulsively, with waiting tears] + + Let Magdeburg come with it, sire! O yes! + + + NAPOLEON [with sudden frigidity] + + It is for you to take what I can give. + And I give this--no more.[15] + + [She turns her head to hide her emotion, and withdraws. NAPOLEON + steps up to her, and offers his arm. She takes it silently, and + he perceives the tears on her cheeks. They cross towards the ante- + room, away from the other guests.] + + + NAPOLEON [softly] + + Still weeping, dearest lady! Why is this? + + + QUEEN [seizing his hand and pressing it] + + Your speeches darn the tearings of your sword!-- + Between us two, as man and woman now, + Is't even possible you question why! + O why did not the Greatest of the Age-- + Of future ages--of the ages past, + This one time win a woman's worship--yea, + For all her little life! + + + NAPOLEON [gravely] + + Know you, my Fair + That I--ay, I--in this deserve your pity.-- + Some force within me, baffling mine intent, + Harries me onward, whether I will or no. + My star, my star is what's to blame--not I. + It is unswervable! + + + QUEEN + + Then now, alas! + My duty's done as mother, wife, and queen.-- + I'll say no more--but that my heart is broken! + + [Exeunt NAPOLEON, QUEEN, and LADY-IN-WAITING.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + He spoke thus at the Bridge of Lodi. Strange, + He's of the few in Europe who discern + The working of the Will. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + If that be so, + Better for Europe lacked he such discerning! + + [NAPOLEON returns to the room and joins TALLEYRAND.] + + + NAPOLEON [aside to his minister] + + My God, it was touch-and-go that time, Talleyrand! She was within + an ace of getting over me. As she stepped into the carriage she + said in her pretty way, “O I have been cruelly deceived by you!” + And when she sank down inside, not knowing I heard, she burst into + sobs fit to move a statue. The Devil take me if I hadn't a good + mind to stop the horses, jump in, give her a good kissing, and + agree to all she wanted. Ha-ha, well; a miss is as good as a mile. + Had she come sooner with those sweet, beseeching blue eyes of hers, + who knows what might not have happened! But she didn't come sooner, + and I have kept in my right mind. + + [The RUSSIAN EMPEROR, the KING OF PRUSSIA, and other guests advance + to bid adieu. They depart severally. When they are gone NAPOLEON + turns to TALLEYRAND.] + + Adhere, then, to the treaty as it stands: + Change not therein a single article, + But write it fair forthwith. + + [Exeunt NAPOLEON, TALLEYRAND, and other ministers and officers in + waiting.[ + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + Some surly voice afar I heard now + Of an enisled Britannic quality; + Wots any of the cause? + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Perchance I do! + Britain is roused, in her slow, stolid style, + By Bonaparte's pronouncement at Berlin + Against her cargoes, commerce, life itself; + And now from out her water citadel + Blows counterblasting “Orders.” Rumours tell. + + + RUMOUR I + + “From havens of fierce France and her allies, + With poor or precious freight of merchandize + Whoso adventures, England pounds as prize!” + + + RUMOUR II + + Thereat Napoleon names her, furiously, + Curst Oligarch, Arch-pirate of the sea, + Who shall lack room to live while liveth he! + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + And peoples are enmeshed in new calamity! + + [Curtain of Evening Shades.] + + + + +ACT SECOND + + + SCENE I + + THE PYRENEES AND VALLEYS ADJOINING + + [The view is from upper air, immediately over the region that + lies between Bayonne on the north, Pampeluna on the south, and + San Sebastian on the west, including a portion of the Cantabrian + mountains. The month is February, and snow covers not only the + peaks but the lower slopes. The roads over the passes are well + beaten.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + At various elevations multitudes of NAPOLEON'S soldiery, to the + number of about thirty thousand, are discerned in a creeping + progress across the frontier from the French to the Spanish side. + The thin long columns serpentine along the roads, but are sometimes + broken, while at others they disappear altogether behind vertical + rocks and overhanging woods. The heavy guns and the whitey-brown + tilts of the baggage-waggons seem the largest objects in the + procession, which are dragged laboriously up the incline to the + watershed, their lumbering being audible as high as the clouds. + + Simultaneously the river Bidassoa, in a valley to the west, is + being crossed by a train of artillery and another thirty thousand + men, all forming part of the same systematic advance. + + Along the great highway through Biscay the wondering native + carters draw their sheep-skinned ox-teams aside, to let the + regiments pass, and stray groups of peaceable field-workers + in Navarre look inquiringly at the marching and prancing + progress. + + Time passes, and the various northern strongholds are approached + by these legions. Their governors emerge at a summons, and when + seeming explanations have been given the unwelcome comers are + doubtfully admitted. + + The chief places to which entrance is thus obtained are Pampeluna + and San Sebastian at the front of the scene, and far away towards + the shining horizon of the Mediterranean, Figueras, and Barcelona. + + Dumb Show concludes as the mountain mists close over. + + + + SCENE II + + ARANJUEZ, NEAR MADRID. A ROOM IN THE PALACE OF GODOY, THE “PRINCE + OF PEACE” + + [A private chamber is disclosed, richly furnished with paintings, + vases, mirrors, silk hangings, gilded lounges, and several lutes + of rare workmanship. The hour is midnight, the room being lit + by screened candelabra. In the centre at the back of the scene + is a large window heavily curtained. + + GODOY and the QUEEN MARIA LUISA are dallying on a sofa. THE + PRINCE OF PEACE is a fine handsome man in middle life, with + curled hair and a mien of easy good-nature. The QUEEN is older, + but looks younger in the dim light, from the lavish use of + beautifying arts. She has pronounced features, dark eyes, low + brows, black hair bound by a jewelled bandeau, and brought forward + in curls over her forehead and temples, long heavy ear-rings, an + open bodice, and sleeves puffed at the shoulders. A cloak and + other mufflers lie on a chair beside her.] + + + GODOY + + The life-guards still insist, Love, that the King + Shall not leave Aranjuez. + + + QUEEN + + Let them insist. + Whether we stay, or whether we depart, + Napoleon soon draws hither with his host! + + + GODOY + + He says he comes pacifically.... But no! + + + QUEEN + + Dearest, we must away to Andalusia, + Thence to America when time shall serve. + + + GODOY + + I hold seven thousand men to cover us, + And ships in Cadiz port. But then--the Prince + Flatly declines to go. He lauds the French + As true deliverers. + + + QUEEN + + Go Fernando MUST!... + O my sweet friend, that we--our sole two selves-- + Could but escape and leave the rest to fate, + And in a western bower dream out our days!-- + For the King's glass can run but briefly now, + Shattered and shaken as his vigour is.-- + But ah--your love burns not in singleness! + Why, dear, caress Josefa Tudo still? + She does not solve her soul in yours as I. + And why those others even more than her?... + How little own I in thee! + + + GODOY + + Such must be. + I cannot quite forsake them. Don't forget + The same scope has been yours in former years. + + + QUEEN + + Yes, Love; I know. I yield! You cannot leave them; + But if you ever would bethink yourself + How long I have been yours, how truly all + Those other pleasures were my desperate shifts + To soften sorrow at your absences, + You would be faithful to me! + + + GODOY + + True, my dear.-- + Yet I do passably keep troth with you, + And fond you with fair regularity;-- + A week beside you, and a week away. + Such is not schemed without some risk and strain.-- + And you agreed Josefa should be mine, + And, too, Thereza without jealousy! [A noise is heard without.] + Ah, what means that? + + [He jumps up from her side and crosses the room to a window, + where he lifts the curtain cautiously. The Queen follows him + with a scared look. + + + QUEEN + + A riot can it be? + + + GODOY + + Let me put these out ere they notice them; + They think me at the Royal Palace yonder. + + [He hastily extinguishes the candles except one taper, which + he places in a recess, so that the room is in shade. He then + draws back the curtains, and she joins him at the window, where, + enclosing her with his arm, he and she look out together. + + In front of the house a guard of hussars is stationed, beyond + them spreading the Plaza or Square. On the other side rises in + the lamplight the white front of the Royal Palace. On the flank + of the Palace is a wall enclosing gardens, bowered alleys, and + orange groves, and in the wall a small door. + + A mixed multitude of soldiery and populace fills the space in + front of the King's Palace, and they shout and address each other + vehemently. During a lull in their vociferations is heard the + peaceful purl of the Tagus over a cascade in the Palace grounds.] + + + QUEEN + + Lingering, we've risked too long our chance of flight! + The Paris Terror will repeat it here. + Not for myself I fear. No, no; for thee! [She clings to him.] + If they should hurt you, it would murder me + By heart-bleedings and stabs intolerable! + + + GODOY [kissing her] + + The first thought now is how to get you back + Within the Palace walls. Why would you risk + To come here on a night so critical? + + + QUEEN [passionately] + + I could not help it--nay, I WOULD not help! + Rather than starve my soul I venture all.-- + Our last love-night--last, maybe, of long years, + Why do you chide me now? + + + GODOY + + Dear Queen, I do not: + I shape these sharp regrets but for your sake. + Hence you must go, somehow, and quickly too. + They think not yet of you in threatening thus, + But of me solely.... Where does your lady wait? + + + QUEEN + + Below. One servant with her. They are true, + And can be let know all. But you--but you! [Uproar continues.] + + + GODOY + + I can escape. Now call them. All three cloak + And veil as when you came. + + [They retreat into the room. QUEEN MARIA LUISA'S lady-in-waiting + and servant are summoned. Enter both. All three then muffle + themselves up, and GODOY prepares to conduct the QUEEN downstairs.] + + + QUEEN + + Nay, now! I will not have it. We are safe; + Think of yourself. Can you get out behind? + + + GODOY + + I judge so--when I have done what's needful here.-- + The mob knows not the bye-door--slip across; + Thence around sideways.--All's clear there as yet. + + [The QUEEN, her lady-in-waiting, and the servant go out + hurriedly. + + GODOY looks again from the window. The mob is some way off, the + immediate front being for the moment nearly free of loiterers; and + the three muffled figures are visible, crossing without hindrance + towards the door in the wall of the Palace Gardens. The instant + they reach it a sentinel springs up, challenging them.] + + + GODOY + + Ah--now they are doomed! My God, why did she come! + + [A parley takes place. Something, apparently a bribe, is handed + to the sentinel, and the three are allowed to slip in, the QUEEN + having obviously been unrecognized. He breathes his relief.] + + Now for the others. Then--ah, then Heaven knows! + + [He sounds a bell and a servant enters. + + Where is the Countess of Castillofiel? + + + SERVANT + + She's looking for you, Prince. + + + GODOY + + Find her at once. + Ah--here she is.--That's well.--Go watch the Plaza [to servant]. + + [GODOY'S mistress, the DONA JOSEFA TUDO, enters. She is a young + and beautiful woman, the vivacity of whose large dark eyes is + now clouded. She is wrapped up for flight. The servant goes out.] + + + JOSEFA [breathlessly] + + I should have joined you sooner, but I knew + The Queen was fondling with you. She must needs + Come hampering you this night of all the rest, + As if not gorged with you at other times! + + + GODOY + + Don't, pretty one! needless it is in you, + Being so well aware who holds my love.-- + I could not check her coming, since she would. + You well know how the old thing is, and how + I am compelled to let her have her mind! + + [He kisses her repeatedly.] + + + JOSEFA + + But look, the mob is swelling! Pouring in + By thousands from Madrid--and all afoot. + Will they not come on hither from the King's? + + + GODOY + + Not just yet, maybe. You should have sooner fled! + The coach is waiting and the baggage packed. [He again peers out.] + Yes, there the coach is; and the clamourers near, + Led by Montijo, if I see aright. + Yes, they cry “Uncle Peter!”--that means him. + There will be time yet. Now I'll take you down + So far as I may venture. + + [They leave the room. In a few minutes GODOY, having taken her + down, re-enters and again looks out. JOSEFA'S coach is moving + off with a small escort of GODOY'S guards of honour. A sudden + yelling begins, and the crowd rushes up and stops the vehicle. + An altercation ensues.] + + + CROWD + + Uncle Peter, it is the Favourite carrying off Prince Fernando. + Stop him! + + + JOSEFA [putting her head out of the coach] + + Silence their uproar, please, Senor Count of Montijo! It is a lady + only, the Countess of Castillofiel. + + + MONTIJO + + Let her pass, let her pass, friends! It is only that pretty wench + of his, Pepa Tudo, who calls herself a Countess. Our titles are + put to comical uses these days. We shall catch the cock-bird + presently! + + [The DONA JOSEFA'S carriage is allowed to pass on, as a shout + from some who have remained before the Royal Palace attracts the + attention of the multitude, which surges back thither.] + + + CROWD [nearing the Palace] + + Call out the King and the Prince. Long live the King! He shall not + go. Hola! He is gone! Let us see him! He shall abandon Godoy! + + [The clamour before the Royal Palace still increasing, a figure + emerges upon a balcony, whom GODOY recognizes by the lamplight + to be FERNANDO, Prince of Asturias. He can be seen waving his + hand. The mob grows suddenly silent.] + + + FERNANDO [in a shaken voice] + + Citizens! the King my father is in the palace with the Queen. He + has been much tried to-day. + + + CROWD + + Promise, Prince, that he shall not leave us. Promise! + + + FERNANDO + + I do. I promise in his name. He has mistaken you, thinking you + wanted his head. He knows better now. + + + CROWD + + The villain Godoy misrepresented us to him! Throw out the Prince + of Peace! + + + FERNANDO + + He is not here, my friends. + + + CROWD + + Then the King shall announce to us that he has dismissed him! Let + us see him. The King; the King! + + [FERNANDO goes in. KING CARLOS comes out reluctantly, and bows + to their cheering. He produces a paper with a trembling hand. + + + KING [reading] + + “As it is the wish of the people---” + + + CROWD + + Speak up, your Majesty! + + + KING [more loudly] + + “As it is the wish of the people, I release Don Manuel Godoy, Prince + of Peace, from the posts of Generalissimo of the Army and Grand + Admiral of the Fleet, and give him leave to withdraw whither he + pleases.” + + + CROWD + + Huzza! + + + KING + + Citizens, to-morrow the decree is to be posted in Madrid. + + + CROWD + + Huzza! Long life to the King, and death to Godoy! + + [KING CARLOS disappears from the balcony, and the populace, + still increasing in numbers, look towards GODOY'S mansion, as + if deliberating how to attack it. GODOY retreats from the + window into the room, and gazing round him starts. A pale, + worn, but placid lady, in a sombre though elegant robe, stands + here in the gloom. She is THEREZA OF BOURBON, the Princess of + Peace.] + + + PRINCESS + + It is only your unhappy wife, Manuel. She will not hurt you! + + + GODOY [shrugging his shoulders] + + Nor with THEY hurt YOU! Why did you not stay in the Royal Palace? + You would have been more comfortable there. + + + PRINCESS + + I don't recognize why you should specially value my comfort. You + have saved you real wives. How can it matter what happens to + your titular one? + + + GODOY + + Much, dear. I always play fair. But it being your blest privilege + not to need my saving I was left free to practise it on those who + did. [Mob heard approaching.] Would that I were in no more danger + than you! + + + PRINCESS + + Puf! + + [He again peers out. His guard of hussars stands firmly in front + of the mansion; but the life-guards from the adjoining barracks, + who have joined the people, endeavour to break the hussars of + GODOY. A shot is fired, GODOY'S guard yields, and the gate and + door are battered in. + + + CROWD [without] + + Murder him! murder him! Death to Manuel Godoy! + + [They are heard rushing onto the court and house.] + + + PRINCESS + + Go, I beseech you! You can do nothing for me, and I pray you to + save yourself! The heap of mats in the lumber-room will hide you! + + [GODOY hastes to a jib-door concealed by sham bookshelves, presses + the spring of it, returns, kisses her, and then slips out. + + His wife sits down with her back against the jib-door, and fans + herself. She hears the crowd trampling up the stairs, but she + does not move, and in a moment people burst in. The leaders are + armed with stakes, daggers, and various improvised weapons, and + some guards in undress appear with halberds.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN [peering into the dim light] + + Where is he? Murder him! [Noticing the Princess.] Come, where + is he? + + + PRINCESS + + The Prince of Peace is gone. I know not wither. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + Who is this lady? + + + LIFE-GUARDSMAN + + Manuel Godoy's Princess. + + + CITIZENS [uncovering] + + Princess, a thousand pardons grant us!--you + An injured wife--an injured people we! + Common misfortune makes us more than kin. + No single hair of yours shall suffer harm. + + [The PRINCESS bows.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + But this, Senora, is no place for you, + For we mean mischief here! Yet first will grant + Safe conduct for you to the Palace gates, + Or elsewhere, as you wish + + + PRINCESS + + My wish is nought. + Do what you will with me. But he's not here. + + [Several of them form an escort, and accompany her from the room + and out of the house. Those remaining, now a great throng, begin + searching the room, and in bands invade other parts of the mansion.] + + + SOME CITIZENS [returning] + + It is no use searching. She said he was not here, and she's a woman + of honour. + + + FIRST CITIZEN [drily] + + She's his wife. + + [They begin knocking the furniture to pieces, tearing down the + hangings, trampling on the musical instruments, and kicking holes + through the paintings they have unhung from the walls. These, + with clocks, vases, carvings, and other movables, they throw out + of the window, till the chamber is a scene of utter wreck and + desolation. In the rout a musical box is swept off a table, and + starts playing a serenade as it falls on the floor. Enter the + COUNT OF MONTIJO.] + + + MONTIJO + + Stop, friends; stop this! There is no sense in it-- + It shows but useless spite! I have much to say: + The French Ambassador, de Beauharnais, + Has come, and sought the King. And next Murat, + With thirty thousand men, half cavalry, + Is closing in upon our doomed Madrid! + I know not what he means, this Bonaparte; + He makes pretence to gain us Portugal, + But what want we with her? 'Tis like as not + His aim's to noose us vassals all to him! + The King will abdicate, and shortly too, + As those will live to see who live not long.-- + We have saved our nation from the Favourite, + But who is going to save us from our Friend? + + [The mob desists dubiously and goes out; the musical box upon + the floor plays on, the taper burns to its socket, and the room + becomes wrapt in the shades of night.] + + + + SCENE III + + LONDON: THE MARCHIONESS OF SALISBURY'S + + [A large reception-room is disclosed, arranged for a conversazione. + It is an evening in summer following, and at present the chamber is + empty and in gloom. At one end is an elaborate device, representing + Britannia offering her assistance to Spain, and at the other a + figure of Time crowning the Spanish Patriots' flag with laurel.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + O clarionists of human welterings, + Relate how Europe's madding movement brings + This easeful haunt into the path of palpitating things! + + + RUMOURS [chanting] + + The Spanish King has bowed unto the Fate + Which bade him abdicate: + The sensual Queen, whose passionate caprice + Has held her chambering with “the Prince of Peace,” + And wrought the Bourbon's fall, + Holds to her Love in all; + And Bonaparte has ruled that his and he + Henceforth displace the Bourbon dynasty. + + + II + + The Spanish people, handled in such sort, + As chattels of a Court, + Dream dreams of England. Messengers are sent + In secret to the assembled Parliament, + In faith that England's hand + Will stouten them to stand, + And crown a cause which, hold they, bond and free + Must advocate enthusiastically. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + So the Will heaves through Space, and moulds the times, + With mortals for Its fingers! We shall see + Again men's passions, virtues, visions, crimes, + Obey resistlessly + The purposive, unmotived, dominant Thing + Which sways in brooding dark their wayfaring! + + [The reception room is lighted up, and the hostess comes in. There + arrive Ambassadors and their wives, the Dukes and Duchesses of + RUTLAND and SOMERSET, the Marquis and Marchioness of STAFFORD, + the Earls of STAIR, WESTMORELAND, GOWER, ESSEX, Viscounts and + Viscountesses CRANLEY and MORPETH, Viscount MELBOURNE, Lord and + Lady KINNAIRD, Baron de ROLLE, Lady CHARLES GRENVILLE, the Ladies + CAVENDISH, Mr. and Mrs. THOMAS HOPE, MR. GUNNING, MRS. FITZHERBERT, + and many other notable personages. Lastly, she goes to the door + to welcome severally the PRINCE OF WALES, the PRINCES OF FRANCE, + and the PRINCESS CASTELCICALA.] + + + LADY SALISBURY [to the Prince of Wales] + + I am sorry to say, sir, that the Spanish Patriots are not yet + arrived. I doubt not but that they have been delayed by their + ignorance of the town, and will soon be here. + + + PRINCE OF WALES + + No hurry whatever, my dear hostess. Gad, we've enough to talk about! + I understand that the arrangement between our ministers and these + noblemen will include the liberation of Spanish prisoners in this + country, and the providing 'em with arms, to go back and fight for + their independence. + + + LADY SALISBURY + + It will be a blessed event if they do check the career of this + infamous Corsican. I have just heard that that poor foreigner + Guillet de la Gevrilliere, who proposed to Mr. Fox to assassinate + him, died a miserable death a few days ago the Bicetre--probably + by torture, though nobody knows. Really one almost wishes Mr. Fox + had---. O here they are! + + [Enter the Spanish Viscount de MATEROSA, and DON DIEGO de la VEGA. + They are introduced by CAPTAIN HILL and MR. BAGOT, who escort them. + LADY SALISBURY presents them to the PRINCE and others.] + + + PRINCE OF WALES + + By gad, Viscount, we were just talking of 'ee. You had some + adventures in getting to this country? + + + MATEROSA [assisted by Bagot as interpreter] + + Sir, it has indeed been a trying experience for us. But here we + are, impressed by a deep sense of gratitude for the signal marks of + attachment your country has shown us. + + + PRINCE OF WALES + + You represent, practically, the Spanish people? + + + MATEROSA + + We are immediately deputed, sir, + By the Assembly of Asturias, + More sailing soon from other provinces. + We bring official writings, charging us + To clinch and solder Treaties with this realm + That may promote our cause against the foe. + Nextly a letter to your gracious King; + Also a Proclamation, soon to sound + And swell the pulse of the Peninsula, + Declaring that the act by which King Carlos + And his son Prince Fernando cede the throne + To whomsoever Napoleon may appoint, + Being an act of cheatery, not of choice, + Unfetters us from our allegiant oath. + + + MRS. FITZHERBERT + + The usurpation began, I suppose, with the divisions in the Royal + Family? + + + MATEROSA + + Yes, madam, and the protection they foolishly requested from the + Emperor; and their timid intent of flying secretly helped it on. + It was an opportunity he had been awaiting for years. + + + MRS. FITZHERBERT + + All brought about by this man Godoy, Prince of Peace! + + + PRINCE OF WALES + + Dash my wig, mighty much you know about it, Maria! Why, sure, + Boney thought to himself, “This Spain is a pretty place; 'twill + just suit me as an extra acre or two; so here goes.” + + + DON DIEGO [aside to Bagot] + + This lady is the Princess of Wales? + + + BAGOT + + Hsh! no, Senor. The Princess lives at large at Kensington and + other places, and has parties of her own, and doesn't keep house + with her husband. This lady is--well, really his wife, you know, + in the opinion of many; but--- + + + DON DIEGO + + Ah! Ladies a little mixed, as they were at our Court! She's the + Pepa Tudo to THIS Prince of Peace? + + + BAGOT + + O no--not exactly that, Senor. + + + DON DIEGO + + Ya, ya. Good. I'll be careful, my friend. You are not saints in + England more than we are in Spain! + + + BAGOT + + We are not. Only you sin with naked faces, and we with masks on. + + + DON DIEGO + + Virtuous country! + + + DUCHESS OF RUTLAND + + It was understood that Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias, was to marry + a French princess, and so unite the countries peacefully? + + + MATEROSA + + It was. And our credulous prince was tempted to meet Napoleon at + Bayonne. Also the poor simple King, and the infatuated Queen, and + Manuel Godoy. + + + DUCHESS OF RUTLAND + + Then Godoy escaped from Aranjuez? + + + MATEROSA + + Yes, by hiding in the garret. Then they all threw themselves + upon Napoleon's protection. In his presence the Queen swore + that the King was not Fernando's father! Altogether they form + a queer little menagerie. What will happen to them nobody knows. + + + PRINCE OF WALES + + And do you wish us to send an army at once? + + + MATEROSA + + What we most want, sir, are arms and ammunition. But we leave the + English Ministry to co-operate in its own wise way, anyhow, so as + to sustain us in resenting these insults from the Tyrant of the + Earth. + + + DUCHESS OF RUTLAND [to the Prince of Wales] + + What sort of aid shall we send, sir? + + + PRINCE OF WALES + + We are going to vote fifty millions, I hear. We'll whack him, + and preserve your noble country for 'ee, Senor Viscount. The + debate thereon is to come off to-morrow. It will be the finest + thing the Commons have had since Pitt's time. Sheridan, who is + open to it, says he and Canning are to be absolutely unanimous; + and, by God, like the parties in his “Critic,” when Government + and Opposition do agree, their unanimity is wonderful! Viscount + Materosa, you and your friends must be in the Gallery. O, dammy, + you must! + + + MATEROSA + + Sir, we are already pledged to be there. + + + PRINCE OF WALES + + And hark ye, Senor Viscount. You will then learn what a mighty + fine thing a debate in the English Parliament is! No Continental + humbug there. Not but that the Court has a trouble to keep 'em + in their places sometimes; and I would it had been one in the + Lords instead. However, Sheridan says he has been learning his + speech these two days, and has hunted his father's dictionary + through for some stunning long words.--Now, Maria [to Mrs. + Fitzherbert], I am going home. + + + LADY SALISBURY + + At last, then, England will take her place in the forefront of + this mortal struggle, and in pure disinterestedness fight with + all her strength for the European deliverance. God defend the + right! + + [The Prince of Wales leaves, and the other guests begin to + depart.] + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + Leave this glib throng to its conjecturing, + And let four burdened weeks uncover what they bring! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + The said Debate, to wit; its close in deed; + Till England stands enlisted for the Patriots' needs. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + And transports in the docks gulp down their freight + Of buckled fighting-flesh, and gale-bound, watch and wait. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Till gracious zephyrs shoulder on their sails + To where the brine of Biscay moans its tragic tales. + + + CHORUS + + Bear we, too, south, as we were swallow-vanned, + And mark the game now played there by the Master-hand! + + [The reception-chamber is shut over by the night without, and + the point of view rapidly recedes south, London and its streets + and lights diminishing till they are lost in the distance, and + its noises being succeeded by the babble of the Channel and + Biscay waves.] + + + + SCENE IV + + MADRID AND ITS ENVIRONS + + [The view is from the housetops of the city on a dusty evening + in this July, following a day of suffocating heat. The sunburnt + roofs, warm ochreous walls, and blue shadows of the capital, + wear their usual aspect except for a few feeble attempts at + decoration.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + Gazers gather in the central streets, and particularly in the + Puerta del Sol. They show curiosity, but no enthusiasm. Patrols + of French soldiery move up and down in front of the people, and + seem to awe them into quietude. + + There is a discharge of artillery in the outskirts, and the church + bells begin ringing; but the peals dwindle away to a melancholy + jangle, and then to silence. Simultaneously, on the northern + horizon of the arid, unenclosed, and treeless plain swept by the + eye around the city, a cloud of dust arises, and a Royal procession + is seen nearing. It means the new king, JOSEPH BONAPARTE. + + He comes on, escorted by a clanking guard of four thousand Italian + troops, and the brilliant royal carriage is followed by a hundred + coaches bearing his suite. As the procession enters the city many + houses reveal themselves to be closed, many citizens leave the + route and walk elsewhere, while may of those who remain turn their + backs upon the spectacle. + + KING JOSEPH proceeds thus through the Plaza Oriente to the granite- + walled Royal Palace, where he alights and is received by some of + the nobility, the French generals who are in occupation there, and + some clergy. Heralds emerge from the Palace, and hasten to divers + points in the city, where trumpets are blown and the Proclamation + of JOSEPH as KING OF SPAIN is read in a loud voice. It is received + in silence. + + The sunsets, and the curtain falls. + + + + SCENE V + + THE OPEN SEA BETWEEN THE ENGLISH COASTS AND THE SPANISH PENINSULA + + [From high aloft, in the same July weather, and facing east, the + vision swoops over the ocean and its coast-lines, from Cork + Harbour on the extreme left, to Mondego Bay, Portugal, on the + extreme right. Land's End and the Scilly Isles, Ushant and Cape + Finisterre, are projecting features along the middle distance + of the picture, and the English Channel recedes endwise as a + tapering avenue near the centre.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + Four groups of moth-like transport ships are discovered silently + skimming this wide liquid plain. The first group, to the right, + is just vanishing behind Cape Mondego to enter Mondego Bay; the + second, in the midst, has come out from Plymouth Sound, and is + preparing to stand down Channel; the third is clearing St. Helen's + point for the same course; and the fourth, much further up Channel, + is obviously to follow on considerably in the rear of the two + preceding. A south-east wind is blowing strong, and, according to + the part of their course reached, they either sail direct with the + wind on their larboard quarter, or labour forward by tacking in + zigzags. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + What are these fleets that cross the sea + From British ports and bays + To coasts that glister southwardly + Behind the dog-day haze? + + + RUMOURS [chanting] + + SEMICHORUS I + + + They are the shipped battalions sent + To bar the bold Belligerent + Who stalks the Dancers' Land. + Within these hulls, like sheep a-pen, + Are packed in thousands fighting-men + And colonels in command. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + The fleet that leans each aery fin + Far south, where Mondego mouths in, + Bears Wellesley and his aides therein, + And Hill, and Crauford too; + With Torrens, Ferguson, and Fane, + And majors, captains, clerks, in train, + And those grim needs that appertain-- + The surgeons--not a few! + To them add twelve thousand souls + In linesmen that the list enrolls, + Borne onward by those sheeted poles + As war's red retinue! + + + SEMICHORUS I + + The fleet that clears St. Helen's shore + Holds Burrard, Hope, ill-omened Moore, + Clinton and Paget; while + The transports that pertain to those + Count six-score sail, whose planks enclose + Ten thousand rank and file. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + The third-sent ships, from Plymouth Sound, + With Acland, Anstruther, impound + Souls to six thousand strong. + While those, the fourth fleet, that we see + Far back, are lined with cavalry, + And guns of girth, wheeled heavily + To roll the routes along. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Enough, and more, of inventories and names! + Many will fail; many earn doubtful fames. + Await the fruitage of their acts and aims. + + + DUMB SHOW [continuing] + + In the spacious scene visible the far-separated groups of + transports, convoyed by battleships, float on before the wind + almost imperceptibly, like preened duck-feathers across a pond. + The southernmost expedition, under SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY, soon + comes to anchor within the Bay of Mondego aforesaid, and the + soldiery are indefinitely discernible landing upon the beach + from boats. Simultaneously the division commanded by MOORE, as + yet in the Chops of the channel, is seen to be beaten back by + contrary winds. It gallantly puts to sea again, and being joined + by the division under ANSTRUTHER that has set out from Plymouth, + labours round Ushant, and stands to the south in the track of + WELLESLEY. The rearward transports do the same. + + A moving stratum of summer cloud beneath the point of view covers + up the spectacle like an awning. + + + + SCENE VI + + ST. CLOUD. THE BOUDOIR OF JOSEPHINE + + [It is the dusk of evening in the latter summer of this year, + and from the windows at the back of the stage, which are still + uncurtained, can be seen the EMPRESS with NAPOLEON and some + ladies and officers of the Court playing Catch-me-if-you-can by + torchlight on the lawn. The moving torches throw bizarre lights + and shadows into the apartment, where only a remote candle or two + are burning. + + Enter JOSEPHINE and NAPOLEON together, somewhat out of breath. + With careless suppleness she slides down on a couch and fans + herself. Now that the candle-rays reach her they show her mellow + complexion, her velvety eyes with long lashes, mouth with pointed + corners and excessive mobility beneath its _duvet_, and curls of + dark hair pressed down upon the temples by a gold band. + + The EMPEROR drops into a seat near her, and they remain in silence + till he jumps up, knocks over some nicknacks with his elbow, and + begins walking about the boudoir.] + + + NAPOLEON [with sudden gloom] + + These mindless games are very well, my friend; + But ours to-night marks, not improbably, + The last we play together. + + + JOSEPHINE [starting] + + Can you say it! + Why raise that ghastly nightmare on me now, + When, for a moment, my poor brain had dreams + Denied it all the earlier anxious day? + + + NAPOLEON + + Things that verge nigh, my simple Josephine, + Are not shoved off by wilful winking at. + Better quiz evils with too strained an eye + Than have them leap from disregarded lairs. + + + JOSEPHINE + + Maybe 'tis true, and you shall have it so!-- + Yet there's no joy save sorrow waived awhile. + + + NAPOLEON + + Ha, ha! That's like you. Well, each day by day + I get sour news. Each hour since we returned + From this queer Spanish business at Bayonne, + I have had nothing else; and hence by brooding. + + + JOSEPHINE + + But all went well throughout our touring-time? + + + NAPOLEON + + Not so--behind the scenes. Our arms a Baylen + Have been smirched badly. Twenty thousand shamed + All through Dupont's ill-luck! The selfsame day + My brother Joseph's progress to Madrid + Was glorious as a sodden rocket's fizz! + Since when his letters creak with querulousness. + “Napoleon el chico” 'tis they call him-- + “Napoleon the Little,” so he says. + Then notice Austria. Much looks louring there, + And her sly new regard for England grows. + The English, next, have shipped an army down + To Mondego, under one Wellesley, + A man from India, and his march is south + To Lisbon, by Vimiero. On he'll go + And do the devil's mischief ere he is met + By unaware Junot, and chevyed back + To English fogs and fumes! + + + JOSEPHINE + + My dearest one, + You have mused on worse reports with better grace + Full many and many a time. Ah--there is more!... + I know; I know! + + + NAPOLEON [kicking away a stool] + + There is, of course; that worm + Time ever keeps in hand for gnawing me!-- + The question of my dynasty--which bites + Closer and closer as the years wheel on. + + + JOSEPHINE + + Of course it's that! For nothing else could hang + My lord on tenterhooks through nights and days;-- + Or rather, not the question, but the tongues + That keep the question stirring. Nought recked you + Of throne-succession or dynastic lines + When gloriously engaged in Italy! + I was your fairy then: they labelled me + Your Lady of Victories; and much I joyed, + Till dangerous ones drew near and daily sowed + These choking tares within your fecund brain,-- + Making me tremble if a panel crack, + Or mouse but cheep, or silent leaf sail down, + And murdering my melodious hours with dreads + That my late happiness, and my late hope, + Will oversoon be knelled! + + + NAPOLEON [genially nearing her] + + But years have passed since first we talked of it, + And now, with loss of dear Hortense's son + Who won me as my own, it looms forth more. + And selfish 'tis in my good Josephine + To blind her vision to the weal of France, + And this great Empire's solidarity. + The grandeur of your sacrifice would gild + Your life's whole shape. + + + JOSEPHINE + + Were I as coarse a wife + As I am limned in English caricature-- + [Those cruel effigies they draw of me!]-- + You could not speak more aridly. + + + NAPOLEON + + Nay, nay! + You know, my comrade, how I love you still + Were there a long-notorious dislike + Betwixt us, reason might be in your dreads + But all earth knows our conjugality. + There's not a bourgeois couple in the land + Who, should dire duty rule their severance, + Could part with scanter scandal than could we. + + + JOSEPHINE [pouting] + + Nevertheless there's one. + + + NAPOLEON + + A scandal? What? + + + JOSEPHINE + + Madame Walewska! How could you pretend + When, after Jena, I'd have come to you, + “The weather was so wild, the roads so rough, + That no one of my sex and delicate nerve + Could hope to face the dangers and fatigues.” + Yes--so you wrote me, dear. They hurt not her! + + + NAPOLEON [blandly] + + She was a week's adventure--not worth words! + I say 'tis France.--I have held out for years + Against the constant pressure brought on me + To null this sterile marriage. + + + JOSEPHINE [bursting into sobs] + + Me you blame! + But how know you that you are not the culprit? + + + NAPOLEON + + I have reason so to know--if I must say. + The Polish lady you have chosen to name + Has proved the fault not mine. [JOSEPHINE sobs more violently.] + Don't cry, my cherished; + It is not really amiable of you, + Or prudent, my good little Josephine, + With so much in the balance. + + + JOSEPHINE + + How--know you-- + What may not happen! Wait a--little longer! + + + NAPOLEON [playfully pinching her arm] + + O come, now, my adored! Haven't I already! + Nature's a dial whose shade no hand puts back, + Trick as we may! My friend, you are forty-three + This very year in the world-- [JOSEPHINE breaks out sobbing again.] + And in vain it is + To think of waiting longer; pitiful + To dream of coaxing shy fecundity + To an unlikely freak by physicking + With superstitious drugs and quackeries + That work you harm, not good. The fact being so, + I have looked it squarely down--against my heart! + Solicitations voiced repeatedly + At length have shown the soundness of their shape, + And left me no denial. You, at times, + My dear one, have been used to handle it. + My brother Joseph, years back, frankly gave + His honest view that something should be done; + And he, you well know, shows no ill tinct + In his regard of you. + + + JOSEPHINE + + And what princess? + + + NAPOLEON + + For wiving with? No thought was given to that, + She shapes as vaguely as the Veiled-- + + + JOSEPHINE + + No, no; + It's Alexander's sister, I'm full sure!-- + But why this craze for home-made manikins + And lineage mere of flesh? You have said yourself + It mattered not. Great Caesar, you declared, + Sank sonless to his rest; was greater deemed + Even for the isolation. Frederick + Saw, too, no heir. It is the fate of such, + Often, to be denied the common hope + As fine for fulness in the rarer gifts + That Nature yields them. O my husband long, + Will you not purge your soul to value best + That high heredity from brain to brain + Which supersedes mere sequence of blood, + That often vary more from sire to son + Than between furthest strangers!... + Napoleon's offspring in his like must lie; + The second of his line be he who shows + Napoleon's soul in later bodiment, + The household father happening as he may! + + + NAPOLEON [smilingly wiping her eyes] + + Little guessed I my dear would prove her rammed + With such a charge of apt philosophy + When tutoring me gay arts in earlier times! + She who at home coquetted through the years + In which I vainly penned her wishful words + To come and comfort me in Italy, + Might, faith, have urged it then effectually! + But never would you stir from Paris joys, [With some bitterness.] + And so, when arguments like this could move me, + I heard them not; and get them only now + When their weight dully falls. But I have said + 'Tis not for me, but France--Good-bye an hour. [Kissing her.] + I must dictate some letters. This new move + Of England on Madrid may mean some trouble. + Come, dwell not gloomily on this cold need + Of waiving private joy for policy. + We are but thistle-globes on Heaven's high gales, + And whither blown, or when, or how, or why, + Can choose us not at all!... + I'll come to you anon, dear: staunch Roustan + Will light me in. + + [Exit NAPOLEON. The scene shuts in shadow.] + + + + SCENE VII + + VIMIERO + + [A village among the hills of Portugal, about fifty miles north + of Lisbon. Around it are disclosed, as ten on Sunday morning + strikes, a blue army of fourteen thousand men in isolated columns, + and red army of eighteen thousand in line formation, drawn up in + order of battle. The blue army is a French one under JUNOT; the + other an English one under SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY--portion of that + recently landed. + + The August sun glares on the shaven faces, white gaiters, and + white cross-belts of the English, who are to fight for their + lives while sweating under a quarter-hundredweight in knapsack + and pouches, and with firelocks heavy as putlogs. They occupy + a group of heights, but their position is one of great danger, + the land abruptly terminating two miles behind their backs in + lofty cliffs overhanging the Atlantic. The French occupy the + valleys in the English front, and this distinction between the + two forces strikes the eye--the red army is accompanied by scarce + any cavalry, while the blue is strong in that area.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + The battle is begun with alternate moves that match each other like + those of a chess opening. JUNOT makes an oblique attack by moving + a division to his right; WELLESLEY moves several brigades to his + left to balance it. + + A column of six thousand French then climbs the hill against the + English centre, and drives in those who are planted there. The + English artillery checks its adversaries, and the infantry recover + and charge the baffled French down the slopes. Meanwhile the + latter's cavalry and artillery are attacking the village itself, + and, rushing on a few squadrons of English dragoons stationed there, + cut them to pieces. A dust is raised by this ado, and moans of men + and shrieks of horses are heard. Close by the carnage the little + Maceira stream continues to trickle unconcernedly to the sea. + + On the English left five thousand French infantry, having ascended + to the ridge and maintained a stinging musket-fire as sharply + returned, are driven down by the bayonets of six English regiments. + Thereafter a brigade of the French, the northernmost, finding that + the others have pursued to the bottom and are resting after the + effort, surprise them and bayonet them back to their original summit. + The see-saw is continued by the recovery of the English, who again + drive their assailants down. + + The French army pauses stultified, till, the columns uniting, they + fall back toward the opposite hills. The English, seeing that their + chance has come, are about to pursue and settle the fortunes of the + day. But a messenger dispatched from a distant group is marked + riding up to the large-nosed man with a telescope and an Indian + sword who, his staff around him, has been directing the English + movements. He seems astonished at the message, appears to resent + it, and pauses with a gloomy look. But he sends countermands to his + generals, and the pursuit ends abortively. + + The French retreat without further molestation by a circuitous march + into the great road to Torres Vedras by which they came, leaving + nearly two thousand dead and wounded on the slopes they have quitted. + + Dumb Show ends and the curtain draws. + + + + +ACT THIRD + + SCENE I + + SPAIN. A ROAD NEAR ASTORGA + + [The eye of the spectator rakes the road from the interior of a + cellar which opens upon it, and forms the basement of a deserted + house, the roof doors, and shutters of which have been pulled down + and burnt for bivouac fires. The season is the beginning of + January, and the country is covered with a sticky snow. The road + itself is intermittently encumbered with heavy traffic, the surface + being churned to a yellow mud that lies half knee-deep, and at the + numerous holes in the track forming still deeper quagmires. + + In the gloom of the cellar are heaps of damp straw, in which + ragged figures are lying half-buried, many of the men in the + uniform of English regiments, and the women and children in clouts + of all descriptions, some being nearly naked. At the back of the + cellar is revealed, through a burst door, an inner vault, where + are discernible some wooden-hooped wine-casks; in one sticks a + gimlet, and the broaching-cork of another has been driven in. + The wine runs into pitchers, washing-basins, shards, chamber- + vessels, and other extemporized receptacles. Most of the inmates + are drunk; some to insensibility. + + So far as the characters are doing anything they are contemplating + almost incessant traffic outside, passing in one direction. It + includes a medley of stragglers from the Marquis of ROMANA'S + Spanish forces and the retreating English army under SIR JOHN + MOORE--to which the concealed deserters belong.] + + + FIRST DESERTER + + Now he's one of the Eighty-first, and I'd gladly let that poor blade + know that we've all that man can wish for here--good wine and buxom + women. But if I do, we shan't have room for ourselves--hey? + + [He signifies a man limping past with neither fire-lock nor + knapsack. Where the discarded knapsack has rubbed for weeks + against his shoulder-blades the jacket and shirt are fretted + away, leaving his skin exposed.] + + + SECOND DESERTER + + He may be the Eighty-firsht, or th' Eighty-second; but what I say is, + without fear of contradiction, I wish to the Lord I was back in old + Bristol again. I'd sooner have a nipperkin of our own real “Bristol + milk” than a mash-tub full of this barbarian wine! + + + THIRD DESERTER + + 'Tis like thee to be ungrateful, after putting away such a skinful + on't. I am as much Bristol as thee, but would as soon be here as + there. There ain't near such willing women, that are strict + respectable too, there as hereabout, and no open cellars.-- As + there's many a slip in this country I'll have the rest of my + allowance now. + + [He crawls on his elbows to one of the barrels, and turning on his + back lets the wine run down his throat.] + + + FORTH DESERTER [to a fifth, who is snoring] + + Don't treat us to such a snoaching there, mate. Here's some more + coming, and they'll sight us if we don't mind! + + [Enter without a straggling flock of military objects, some with + fragments of shoes on, others bare-footed, many of the latter's + feet bleeding. The arms and waists of some are clutched by women + as tattered and bare-footed as themselves. They pass on. + + The Retreat continues. More of ROMANA'S Spanish limp along in + disorder; then enters a miscellaneous group of English cavalry + soldiers, some on foot, some mounted, the rearmost of the latter + bestriding a shoeless foundered creature whose neck is vertebrae + and mane only. While passing it falls from exhaustion; the trooper + extricates himself and pistols the animal through the head. He + and the rest pass on.] + + + FIRST DESERTER [a new plashing of feet being heard] + + Here's something more in order, or I am much mistaken. He cranes + out.] Yes, a sergeant of the Forty-third, and what's left of their + second battalion. And, by God, not far behind I see shining helmets. + 'Tis a whole squadron of French dragoons! + + [Enter the sergeant. He has a racking cough, but endeavours, by + stiffening himself up, to hide how it is wasting away his life. + He halts, and looks back, till the remains of the Forty-third are + abreast, to the number of some three hundred, about half of whom + are crippled invalids, the other half being presentable and armed + soldiery.' + + + SERGEANT + + Now show yer nerve, and be men. If you die to-day you won't have to + die to-morrow. Fall in! [The miscellany falls in.] All invalids and + men without arms march ahead as well as they can. Quick--maw-w-w-ch! + [Exeunt invalids, etc.] Now! Tention! Shoulder-r-r--fawlocks! [Order + obeyed.] + + [The sergeant hastily forms these into platoons, who prime and load, + and seem preternaturally changed from what they were into alert + soldiers. + + Enter French dragoons at the left-back of the scene. The rear + platoon of the Forty-third turns, fires, and proceeds. The next + platoon covering them does the same. This is repeated several + times, staggering the pursuers. Exeunt French dragoons, giving + up the pursuit. The coughing sergeant and the remnant of the + Forty-third march on.] + + + FOURTH DESERTER [to a woman lying beside him] + + What d'ye think o' that, my honey? It fairly makes me a man again. + Come, wake up! We must be getting along somehow. [He regards the + woman more closely.] Why--my little chick? Look here, friends. + [They look, and the woman is found to be dead.] If I didn't think + that her poor knees felt cold!... And only an hour ago I swore + to marry her! + + [They remain silent. The Retreat continues in the snow without, + now in the form of a file of ox-carts, followed by a mixed rabble + of English and Spanish, and mules and muleteers hired by English + officers to carry their baggage. The muleteers, looking about + and seeing that the French dragoons gave been there, cut the bands + which hold on the heavy packs, and scamper off with their mules.] + + + A VOICE [behind] + + The Commander-in-Chief is determined to maintain discipline, and + they must suffer. No more pillaging here. It is the worst case + of brutality and plunder that we have had in this wretched time! + + [Enter an English captain of hussars, a lieutenant, a guard of + about a dozen, and three men as prisoner.] + + + CAPTAIN + + If they choose to draw lots, only one need be made an example of. + But they must be quick about it. The advance-guard of the enemy + is not far behind. + + [The three prisoners appear to draw lots, and the one on whom the + lot falls is blindfolded. Exeunt the hussars behind a wall, with + carbines. A volley is heard and something falls. The wretched + in the cellar shudder.] + + + FOURTH DESERTER + + 'Tis the same for us but for this heap of straw. Ah--my doxy is the + only one of us who is safe and sound! [He kisses the dead woman.] + + [Retreat continues. A train of six-horse baggage-waggons lumbers + past, a mounted sergeant alongside. Among the baggage lie wounded + soldiers and sick women.] + + + SERGEANT OF THE WAGGON-TRAIN + + If so be they are dead, ye may as well drop 'em over the tail-board. + 'Tis no use straining the horses unnecessary. + + [Waggons halt. Two of the wounded who have just died are taken + out, laid down by the roadside, and some muddy snow scraped over + them. Exeunt waggons and sergeant. + + An interval. More English troops pass on horses, mostly shoeless + and foundered. + + Enter SIR JOHN MOORE and officers. MOORE appears on the pale + evening light as a handsome man, far on in the forties, the + orbits of his dark eyes showing marks of deep anxiety. He is + talking to some of his staff with vehement emphasis and gesture. + They cross the scene and go on out of sight, and the squashing + of their horses' hoofs in the snowy mud dies away.] + + + FIFTH DESERTER [incoherently in his sleep] + + Poise fawlocks--open pans--right hands to pouch--handle ca'tridge-- + bring it--quick motion-bite top well off--prime--shut pans--cast + about--load--- + + + FIRST DESERTER [throwing a shoe at the sleeper] + + Shut up that! D'ye think you are a 'cruity in the awkward squad + still? + + + SECOND DESERTER + + I don't know what he thinks, but I know what I feel! Would that I + were at home in England again, where there's old-fashioned tipple, + and a proper God A'mighty instead of this eternal 'Ooman and baby; + --ay, at home a-leaning against old Bristol Bridge, and no questions + asked, and the winter sun slanting friendly over Baldwin Street as + 'a used to do! 'Tis my very belief, though I have lost all sure + reckoning, that if I were there, and in good health, 'twould be New + Year's day about now. What it is over here I don't know. Ay, to- + night we should be a-setting in the tap of the “Adam and Eve”-- + lifting up the tune of “The Light o' the Moon.” 'Twer a romantical + thing enough. 'A used to go som'at like this [he sings in a nasal + tone]:-- + + “O I thought it had been day, + And I stole from here away; + But it proved to be the light o' the moon!” + + [Retreat continues, with infantry in good order. Hearing the + singing, one of the officers looks around, and detaching a patrol + enters the ruined house with the file of men, the body of soldiers + marching on. The inmates of the cellar bury themselves in the + straw. The officer peers about, and seeing no one prods the straw + with his sword. + + + VOICES [under the straw] + + Oh! Hell! Stop it! We'll come out! Mercy! Quarter! + + [The lurkers are uncovered.] + + + OFFICER + + If you are well enough to sing bawdy songs, you are well enough to + march. So out of it--or you'll be shot, here and now! + + + SEVERAL + + You may shoot us, captain, or the French may shoot us, or the devil + may take us; we don't care which! Only we can't stir. Pity the + women, captain, but do what you will with us! + + [The searchers pass over the wounded, and stir out those capable + of marching, both men and women, so far as they discover them. + They are pricked on by the patrol. Exeunt patrol and deserters + in its charge. + + Those who remain look stolidly at the highway. The English Rear- + guard of cavalry crosses the scene and passes out. An interval. + It grows dusk.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Quaint poesy, and real romance of war! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Mock on, Shade, if thou wilt! But others find + Poesy ever lurk where pit-pats poor mankind! + + [The scene is cloaked in darkness.] + + + + SCENE II + + THE SAME + + [It is nearly midnight. The fugitives who remain in the cellar + having slept off the effects of the wine, are awakened by a new + tramping of cavalry, which becomes more and more persistent. It + is the French, who now fill the road. The advance-guard having + passed by, DELABORDE'S division, LORGE'S division, MERLE'S + division, and others, successively cross the gloom. + + Presently come the outlines of the Imperial Guard, and then, with + a start, those in hiding realize their situation, and are wide + awake. NAPOLEON enters with his staff. He has just been overtaken + by a courier, and orders those round him to halt.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Let there a fire be lit: Ay, here and now. + The lines within these letters brook no pause + In mastering their purport. + + [Some of the French approach the ruined house and, appropriating + what wood is still left there, heap it by the roadside and set it + alight. A mixed rain and snow falls, and the sputtering flames + throw a glare all round.] + + + SECOND DESERTER [under his voice] + + We be shot corpses! Ay, faith, we be! Why didn't I stick to + England, and true doxology, and leave foreign doxies and their + wine alone!... Mate, can ye squeeze another shardful from the + cask there, for I feel my time is come!... O that I had but the + barrel of that firelock I throwed away, and that wasted powder to + prime and load! This bullet I chaw to squench my hunger would do + the rest!... Yes, I could pick him off now! + + + FIRST DESERTER + + You lie low with your picking off, or he may pick off you! Thank + God the babies are gone. Maybe we shan't be noticed, if we've but + the courage to do nothing, and keep hid. + + [NAPOLEON dismounts, approaches the fire, and looks around.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Another of their dead horses here, I see. + + + OFFICER + + Yes, sire. We have counted eighteen hundred odd + From Benavente hither, pistoled thus. + Some we'd to finish for them: headlong haste + Spared them no time for mercy to their brutes. + One-half their cavalry now tramps afoot. + + + NAPOLEON + + And what's the tale of waggons we've picked up? + + + OFFICER + + Spanish and all abandoned, some four hundred; + Of magazines and firelocks, full ten load; + And stragglers and their girls a numerous crew. + + + NAPOLEON + + Ay, devil--plenty those! Licentious ones + These English, as all canting peoples are.-- + And prisoners? + + + OFFICER + + Seven hundred English, sire; + Spaniards five thousand more. + + + NAPOLEON + + 'Tis not amiss. + To keep the new year up they run away! + [He soliloquizes as he begins tearing open the dispatches.] + Nor Pitt nor Fox displayed such blundering + As glares in this campaign! It is, indeed, + Enlarging Folly to Foolhardiness + To combat France by land! But how expect + Aught that can claim the name of government + From Canning, Castlereagh, and Perceval, + Caballers all--poor sorry politicians-- + To whom has fallen the luck of reaping in + The harvestings of Pitt's bold husbandry. + + [He unfolds a dispatch, and looks for something to sit on. A cloak + is thrown over a log, and he settles to reading by the firelight. + The others stand round. The light, crossed by the snow-flakes, + flickers on his unhealthy face and stoutening figure. He sinks + into the rigidity of profound thought, till his features lour.] + + So this is their reply! They have done with me! + Britain declines negotiating further-- + Flouts France and Russia indiscriminately. + “Since one dethrones and keeps as prisoners + The most legitimate kings”--that means myself-- + “The other suffers their unworthy treatment + For sordid interests”--that's for Alexander!... + And what is Georgy made to say besides?-- + “Pacific overtures to us are wiles + Woven to unnerve the generous nations round + Lately escaped the galling yoke of France, + Or waiting so to do. Such, then, being seen, + These tentatives must be regarded now + As finally forgone; and crimson war + Be faced to its fell worst, unflinchingly.” + --The devil take their lecture! What am I, + That England should return such insolence? + + [He jumps up, furious, and walks to and fro beside the fire. + By and by cooling he sits down again.] + + Now as to hostile signs in Austria.... + [He breaks another seal and reads.] + Ah,--swords to cross with her some day in spring! + Thinking me cornered over here in Spain + She speaks without disguise, the covert pact + 'Twixt her and England owning now quite frankly, + Careless how works its knowledge upon me. + She, England, Germany: well--I can front them! + That there is no sufficient force of French + Between the Elbe and Rhine to prostrate her, + Let new and terrible experience + Soon disillude her of! Yea; she may arm: + The opportunity she late let slip + Will not subserve her now! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Has he no heart-hints that this Austrian court, + Whereon his mood takes mould so masterful, + Is rearing naively in its nursery-room + A future wife for him? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Thou dost but guess it, + And how should his heart know? + + + NAPOLEON [opening and reading another dispatch] + + Now eastward. Ohe!-- + The Orient likewise looms full somberly.... + The Turk declines pacifically to yield + What I have promised Alexander. Ah!... + As for Constantinople being his prize + I'll see him frozen first. His flight's too high! + And showing that I think so makes him cool. [Rises.] + Is Soult the Duke Dalmatia yet at hand? + + + OFFICER + + He has arrived along the Leon road + Just now, your Majesty; and only waits + The close of your perusals. + + [Enter SOULT, who is greeted by NAPOLEON.] + + + FIRST DESERTER + + Good Lord deliver us from all great men, and take me back again to + humble life! That's Marshal Soult the Duke of Dalmatia! + + + SECOND DESERTER + + The Duke of Damnation for our poor rear, by the look on't! + + + FIRST DESERTER + + Yes--he'll make 'em rub their poor rears before he has done with + 'em! But we must overtake 'em to-morrow by a cross-cut, please God! + + + NAPOLEON [pointing to the dispatches] + + Here's matter enough for me, Duke, and to spare. + The ominous contents are like the threats + The ancient prophets dealt rebellious Judah! + Austria we soon shall have upon our hands, + And England still is fierce for fighting on,-- + Strange humour in a concord-loving land! + So now I must to Paris straight away-- + At least, to Valladolid; so as to stand + More apt for couriers than I do out here + In this far western corner, and to mark + The veerings of these new developments, + And blow a counter-breeze.... + + Then, too, there's Lannes, still sweating at the siege + Of sullen Zaragoza as 'twere hell. + Him I must further counsel how to close + His twice too tedious battery.--You, then, Soult-- + Ney is not yet, I gather, quite come up? + + + SOULT + + He's near, sire, on the Benavente road; + But some hours to the rear I reckon, still. + + + NAPOLEON [pointing to the dispatches] + + Him I'll direct to come to your support + In this pursuit and harassment of Moore + Wherein you take my place. You'll follow up + And chase the flying English to the sea. + Bear hard on them, the bayonet at their loins. + With Merle's and Mermet's corps just gone ahead, + And Delaborde's, and Heudelet's here at hand. + While Lorge's and Lahoussaye's picked dragoons + Will follow, and Franceschi's cavalry. + To Ney I am writing, in case of need, + He will support with Marchand and Mathieu.-- + Your total thus of seventy thousand odd, + Ten thousand horse, and cannon to five score, + Should near annihilate this British force, + And carve a triumph large in history. + [He bends over the fire and makes some notes rapidly.] + I move into Astorga; then turn back, + [Though only in my person do I turn] + And leave to you the destinies of Spain. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + More turning may be here than he design. + In this small, sudden, swift turn backward, he + Suggests one turning from his apogee! + + [The characters disperse, the fire sinks, and snowflakes and + darkness blot out all.] + + + + SCENE III + + BEFORE CORUNA + + [The town, harbour, and hills at the back are viewed from an + aerial point to the north, over the lighthouse known as the + Tower of Hercules, rising at the extremity of the tongue of + land on which La Coruna stands, the open ocean being in the + spectator's rear. + + In the foreground the most prominent feature is the walled old + town, with its white towers and houses, shaping itself aloft + over the harbour. The new town, and its painted fronts, show + bright below, even on this cloudy winter afternoon. Further + off, behind the harbour--now crowded with British transports + of all sizes--is a series of low broken hills, intersected by + hedges and stone walls. + + A mile behind these low inner hills is beheld a rocky chain of + outer and loftier heights that completely command the former. + Nothing behind them is seen but grey sky. + + + DUMB SHOW + + On the inner hills aforesaid the little English army--a pathetic + fourteen thousand of foot only--is just deploying into line: HOPE'S + division is on the left, BAIRD'S to the right. PAGET with the + reserve is in the hollow to the left behind them; and FRASER'S + division still further back shapes out on a slight rise to the right. + + This harassed force now appears as if composed of quite other than + the men observed in the Retreat insubordinately straggling along + like vagabonds. Yet they are the same men, suddenly stiffened and + grown amenable to discipline by the satisfaction of standing to the + enemy at last. They resemble a double palisade of red stakes, the + only gaps being those that the melancholy necessity of scant numbers + entails here and there. + + Over the heads of these red men is beheld on the outer hills the + twenty thousand French that have been pushed along the road at the + heels of the English by SOULT. They have an ominous superiority, + both in position and in their abundance of cavalry and artillery, + over the slender lines of English foot. The left of this background, + facing HOPE, is made up of DELABORDE'S and MERLE'S divisions, while + in a deadly arc round BAIRD, from whom they are divided only by the + village of Elvina, are placed MERMET'S division, LAHOUSSAYE'S and + LORGE'S dragoons, FRANCESCHI'S cavalry, and, highest up of all, a + formidable battery of eleven great guns that rake the whole British + line. + + It is now getting on for two o'clock, and a stir of activity has + lately been noticed along the French front. Three columns are + discerned descending from their position, the first towards the + division of SIR DAVID BAIRD, the weakest point in the English line, + the next towards the centre, the third towards the left. A heavy + cannonade from the battery supports this advance. + + The clash ensues, the English being swept down in swathes by the + enemy's artillery. The opponents meet face to face at the village + in the valley between them, and the fight there grows furious. + + SIR JOHN MOORE is seen galloping to the front under the gloomy sky. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + I seem to vision in San Carlos' garden, + That rises salient in the upper town, + His name, and date, and doing, set within + A filmy outline like a monument, + Which yet is but the insubstantial air. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Read visions as conjectures; not as more. + + + When MOORE arrives at the front, FRASER and PAGET move to the right, + where the English are most sorely pressed. A grape-shot strikes + off BAIRD'S arm. There is a little confusion, and he is borne to + the rear; while MAJOR NAPIER disappears, a prisoner. + + Intelligence of these misfortunes is brought to SIR JOHN MOORE. + He goes further forward, and precedes in person the Forty-second + regiment and a battalion of the Guards who, with fixed bayonets, + bear the enemy back, MOORE'S gestures in cheering them being + notably energetic. Pursuers, pursued, and SIR JOHN himself pass + out of sight behind the hill. Dumb Show ends. + + [The point of vision descends to the immediate rear of the + English position. The early January evening has begun to spread + its shades, and shouts of dismay are heard from behind the hill + over which MOORE and the advancing lines have vanished. + + Straggling soldiers cross in the gloom.] + + + FIRST STRAGGLER + + He's struck by a cannon-ball, that I know; but he's not killed, + that I pray God A'mighty. + + + SECOND STRAGGLER + + Better he were. His shoulder is knocked to a bag of splinters. + As Sir David was wownded, Sir John was anxious that the right + should not give way, and went forward to keep it firm. + + + FIRST STRAGGLER + + He didn't keep YOU firm, howsomever. + + + SECOND STRAGGLER + + Nor you, for that matter. + + + FIRST STRAGGLER + + Well, 'twas a serious place for a man with no priming-horn, and + a character to lose, so I judged it best to fall to the rear by + lying down. A man can't fight by the regulations without his + priming-horn, and I am none of your slovenly anyhow fighters. + + + SECOND STRAGGLER + + 'Nation, having dropped my flit-pouch, I was the same. If you'd + had your priming-horn, and I my flints, mind ye, we should have + been there now? Then, forty-whory, that we are not is the fault + o' Government for not supplying new ones from the reserve! + + + FIRST STRAGGLER + + What did he say as he led us on? + + + SECOND STRAGGLER + + “Forty-second, remember Egypt!” I heard it with my own ears. Yes, + that was his strict testament. + + + FIRST STRAGGLER + + “Remember Egypt.” Ay, and I do, for I was there!... Upon my + salvation, here's for back again, whether or no! + + + SECOND STRAGGLER + + But here. “Forty-second, remember Egypt,” he said in the very + eye of that French battery playing through us. And the next omen + was that he was struck off his horse, and fell on his back to the + ground. I remembered Egypt, and what had just happened too, so + thorough well that I remembered the way over this wall!--Captain + Hardinge, who was close to him, jumped off his horse, and he and + one in the ranks lifted him, and are now bringing him along. + + + FIRST STRAGGLER + + Nevertheless, here's for back again, come what will. Remember + Egypt! Hurrah! + + [Exit First straggler. Second straggler ponders, then suddenly + follows First. Enter COLONEL ANDERSON and others hastily.] + + + AN OFFICER + + Now fetch a blanker. He must be carried in. + + [Shouts heard.] + + + COLONEL ANDERSON + + That means we are gaining ground! Had fate but left + This last blow undecreed, the hour had shone + A star amid these girdling days of gloom! + + [Exit. Enter in the obscurity six soldiers of the Forty-second + bearing MOORE on their joined hands. CAPTAIN HARDINGE walks + beside and steadies him. He is temporarily laid down in the + shelter of a wall, his left shoulder being pounded away, the arm + dangling by a shred of flesh. + + Enter COLONEL GRAHAM and CAPTAIN WOODFORD.] + + + GRAHAM + + The wound is more than serious, Woodford, far. + Ride for a surgeon--one of those, perhaps, + Who tend Sir David Baird? [Exit Captain Woodford.] + His blood throbs forth so fast, that I have dark fears + He'll drain to death ere anything can be done! + + + HARDINGE + + I'll try to staunch it--since no skill's in call. + + [He takes off his sash and endeavours to bind the wound with it. + MOORE smiles and shakes his head.] + + There's not much checking it! Then rent's too gross. + A dozen lives could pass that thoroughfare! + + [Enter a soldier with a blanket. They lift MOORE into it. During + the operation the pommel of his sword, which he still wears, is + accidentally thrust into the wound.] + + I'll loose the sword--it bruises you, Sir John. + + [He begins to unbuckle it.] + + + MOORE + + No. Let it be! One hurt more matters not. + I wish it to go off the field with me. + + + HARDINGE + + I like the sound of that. It augurs well + For your much-hoped recovery. + + + MOORE [looking sadly at his wound] + + Hardinge, no: + Nature is nonplussed there! My shoulder's gone, + And this left side laid open to my lungs. + There's but a brief breath now for me, at most.... + Could you--move me along--that I may glimpse + Still how the battle's going? + + + HARDINGE + + Ay, Sir John-- + A few yard higher up, where we can see. + + [He is borne in the blanket a little way onward, and lifted so + that he can view the valley and the action.] + + + MOORE [brightly] + + They seem to be advancing. Yes, it is so! + + [Enter SIR JOHN HOPE.] + + Ah, Hope!--I am doing badly here enough; + But they are doing rarely well out there. [Presses HOPE'S hand.] + Don't leave! my speech may flag with this fierce pain, + But you can talk to me.--Are the French checked? + + + HOPE + + My dear friend, they are borne back steadily. + + + MOORE [his voice weakening] + + I hope England--will be satisfied-- + I hope my native land--will do me justice!... + I shall be blamed for sending Craufurd off + Along the Orense road. But had I not, + Bonaparte would have headed us that way.... + + + HOPE + + O would that Soult had but accepted battle + By Lugo town! We should have crushed him there. + + + MOORE + + Yes... yes.--But it has never been my lot + To owe much to good luck; nor was it then. + Good fortune has been mine, but [bitterly] mostly so + By the exhaustion of all shapes of bad!... + Well, this does not become a dying man; + And others have been chastened more than I + By Him who holds us in His hollowed hand!... + + I grieve for Zaragoza, if, as said, + The siege goes sorely with her, which it must. + I heard when at Dahagun that late day + That she was holding out heroically. + But I must leave such now.--You'll see my friends + As early as you can? Tell them the whole; + Say to my mother.... [His voice fails.] + Hope, Hope, I have so much to charge you with, + But weakness clams my tongue!... If I must die + Without a word with Stanhope, ask him, Hope, + To--name me to his sister. You may know + Of what there was between us?... + Is Colonel Graham well, and all my aides? + My will I have made--it is in Colborne's charge + With other papers. + + + HOPE + + He's now coming up. + + [Enter MAJOR COLBORNE, principal aide-de-camp.] + + + MOORE + + Are the French beaten, Colborne, or repulsed? + Alas! you see what they have done too me! + + + COLBORNE + + I do, Sir John: I am more than sad thereat! + In brief time now the surgeon will be here. + The French retreat--pushed from Elvina far. + + + MOORE + + That's good! Is Paget anywhere about? + + + COLBORNE + + He's at the front, Sir John. + + + MOORE + + Remembrance to him! + + [Enter two surgeons.] + + Ah, doctors,--you can scarcely mend up me.-- + And yet I feel so tough--I have feverish fears + My dying will waste a long and tedious while; + But not too long, I hope! + + + SURGEONS [after a hasty examination] + + You must be borne + In to your lodgings instantly, Sir John. + Please strive to stand the motion--if you can; + They will keep step, and bear you steadily. + + + MOORE + + Anything.... Surely fainter ebbs that fire? + + + COLBORNE + + Yes: we must be advancing everywhere: + Colbert their General, too, they have lost, I learn. + + [They lift him by stretching their sashes under the blanket, and + begin moving off. A light waggon enters.] + + + MOORE + + Who's in that waggon? + + + HARDINGE + + Colonel Wynch, Sir John. + He's wounded, but he urges you to take it. + + + MOORE + + No. I will not. This suits.... Don't come with me; + There's more for you to do out here as yet. [Cheerful shouts.] + A-ha! 'Tis THIS way I have wished to die! + + [Exeunt slowly in the twilight MOORE, bearers, surgeons, etc., + towards Coruna. The scene darkens.] + + + + SCENE IV + + CORUNA. NEAR THE RAMPARTS + + [It is just before dawn on the following morning, objects being + still indistinct. The features of the elevated enclosure of San + Carlos can be recognized in dim outline, and also those of the + Old Town of Coruna around, though scarcely a lamp is shining. + The numerous transports in the harbour beneath have still their + riding-lights burning. + + In a nook of the town walls a lantern glimmers. Some English + soldiers of the Ninth regiment are hastily digging a grave there + with extemporized tools.] + + + A VOICE [from the gloom some distance off] + + “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that + believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” + + [The soldiers look up, and see entering at the further end of the + patch of ground a slow procession. It advances by the light of + lanterns in the hands of some members of it. At moments the fitful + rays fall upon bearers carrying a coffinless body rolled in a + blanket, with a military cloak roughly thrown over by way of pall. + It is brought towards the incomplete grave, and followed by HOPE, + GRAHAM, ANDERSON, COLBORNE, HARDINGE, and several aides-de-camp, + a chaplain preceding.] + + + FIRST SOLDIER + + They are here, almost as quickly as ourselves. + There is no time to dig much deeper now: + Level a bottom just as far's we've got. + He'll couch as calmly in this scrabbled hole + As in a royal vault! + + + SECOND SOLDIER + + Would it had been a foot deeper, here among foreigners, with strange + manures manufactured out of no one knows what! Surely we can give + him another six inches? + + + FIRST SOLDIER + + There is no time. Just make the bottom true. + + [The meagre procession approaches the spot, and waits while the + half-dug grave is roughly finished by the men of the Ninth. + They step out of it, and another of them holds a lantern to the + chaplain's book. The winter day slowly dawns.] + + + CHAPLAIN + + “Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is + full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he + fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.” + + [A gun is fired from the French battery not far off; then another. + The ships in the harbour take in their riding lights.] + + + COLBORNE [in a low voice] + + I knew that dawn would see them open fire. + + + HOPE + + We must perforce make swift use of out time. + Would we had closed our too sad office sooner! + + [As the body is lowered another discharge echoes. They glance + gloomily at the heights where the French are ranged, and then + into the grave.] + + + CHAPLAIN + + “We therefore commit his body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes + to ashes, dust to dust.” [Another gun.] + + [A spent ball falls not far off. They put out their lanterns. + Continued firing, some shot splashing into the harbour below + them.] + + + HOPE + + In mercy to the living, who are thrust + Upon our care for their deliverance, + And run much hazard till they are embarked, + We must abridge these duties to the dead, + Who will not mind be they abridged or no. + + + HARDINGE + + And could he mind, would be the man to bid it.... + + + HOPE + + We shall do well, then, curtly to conclude + These mutilated prayers--our hurried best!-- + And what's left unsaid, feel. + + + CHAPLAIN [his words broken by the cannonade] + + “.... We give Thee hearty thanks for that it hath pleased + Thee to deliver this our brother out of the miseries of this + sinful world.... Who also hath taught us not to be sorry, as + men without hope, for them that sleep in Him.... Grant this, + through Jesus Christ our Mediator and Redeemer.” + + + OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS + + Amen! + + [The diggers of the Ninth hastily fill in the grave, and the scene + shuts as the mournful figures retire.] + + + + SCENE V + + VIENNA. A CAFE IN THE STEPHANS-PLATZ + + [An evening between light and dark is disclosed, some lamps being + lit. The huge body and tower of St. Stephen's rise into the sky + some way off, the western gleam still touching the upper stonework. + Groups of people are seated at the tables, drinking and reading + the newspapers. One very animated group, which includes an + Englishman, is talking loudly. A citizen near looks up from his + newspaper.] + + + CITIZEN [to the Englishman] + + I read, sir, here, the troubles you discuss + Of your so gallant army under Moore. + His was a spirit baffled but not quelled, + And in his death there shone a stoicism + That lent retreat the rays of victory. + + + ENGLISHMAN + + It was so. While men chide they will admire him, + And frowning, praise. I could nigh prophesy + That the unwonted crosses he has borne + In his career of sharp vicissitude + Will tinct his story with a tender charm, + And grant the memory of his strenuous feats + As long a lease within the minds of men + As conquerors hold there.--Does the sheet give news + Of how the troops reached home? + + + CITIZEN [looking up again at the paper] + + Yes; from your press + It quotes that they arrived at Plymouth Sound + Mid dreadful weather and much suffering. + It states they looked the very ghosts of men, + So heavily had hunger told on them, + And the fatigues and toils of the retreat. + Several were landed dead, and many died + As they were borne along. At Portsmouth, too, + Sir David Baird, still helpless from his wound, + Was carried in a cot, sheet-pale and thin, + And Sir John Hope, lank as a skeleton.-- + Thereto is added, with authority, + That a new expedition soon will fit, + And start again for Spain. + + + ENGLISHMAN + + I have heard as much. + + + CITIZEN + + You'll do it next time, sir. And so shall we! + + + SECOND CITIZEN [regarding the church tower opposite] + + You witnessed the High Service over there + They held this morning? [To the Englishman.] + + + ENGLISHMAN + + Ay; I did get in; + Though not without hard striving, such the throng; + But travellers roam to waste who shyly roam + And I pushed like the rest. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + Our young Archduchess + Maria Louisa was, they tell me, present? + + + ENGLISHMAN + + O yes: the whole Imperial family, + And when the Bishop called all blessings down + Upon the Landwehr colours there displayed, + Enthusiasm touched the sky--she sharing it. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + Commendable in her, and spirited, + After the graceless insults to the Court + The Paris journals flaunt--not voluntarily, + But by his ordering. Magician-like + He holds them in his fist, and at his squeeze + They bubble what he wills!... Yes, she's a girl + Of patriotic build, and hates the French. + Quite lately she was overheard to say + She had met with most convincing auguries + That this year Bonaparte was starred to die. + + + ENGLISHMAN + + Your arms must render its fulfilment sure. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + Right! And we have the opportunity, + By upping to the war in suddenness, + And catching him unaware. The pink and flower + Of all his veteran troops are now in Spain + Fully engaged with yours; while those he holds + In Germany are scattered far and wide. + + + FIRST CITIZEN [looking up again from his newspaper] + + I see here that he vows and guarantees + Inviolate bounds to all our territories + If we but pledge to carry out forthwith + A prompt disarmament. Since that's his price + Hell burn his guarantees! Too long he has fooled us. + [To the Englishman] I drink, sir, to your land's consistency. + While we and all the kindred Europe States + Alternately have wooed and warred him, + You have not bent to blowing hot and cold, + But held you sturdily inimical! + + + ENGLISHMAN [laughing] + + Less Christian-like forgiveness mellows us + Than Continental souls! [They drink.] + + [A band is heard in a distant street, with shouting. Enter third + and fourth citizens, followed by others.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + More news afloat? + + + THIRD AND FOURTH CITIZENS + + Yea; an announcement that the Archduke Charles + Is given the chief command. + + + FIRST, SECOND, ETC., CITIZENS + + Huzza! Right so! + + [A clinking of glasses, rising from seats, and general enthusiasm.] + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + If war had not so patly been declared, + Our howitzers and firelocks of themselves + Would have gone off to shame us! This forenoon + Some of the Landwehr met me; they are hot + For setting out, though but few months enrolled. + + + ENGLISHMAN + + That moves reflection somewhat. They are young + For measuring with the veteran file of France! + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + Napoleon's army swarms with tender youth, + His last conscription besomed into it + Thousands of merest boys. But he contrives + To mix them in the field with seasoned frames. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + The sadly-seen mistake this country made + Was that of grounding hostile arms at all. + We should have fought irreconcilably-- + Have been consistent as the English are. + The French are our hereditary foes, + And this adventurer of the saucy sword, + This sacrilegious slighter of our shrines, + Stands author of all our ills... + Our harvest fields and fruits he trample on, + Accumulating ruin in our land. + Think of what mournings in the last sad war + 'Twas his to instigate and answer for! + Time never can efface the glint of tears + In palaces, in shops, in fields, in cots, + From women widowed, sonless, fatherless, + That then oppressed our eyes. There is no salve + For such deep harrowings but to fight again; + The enfranchisement of Europe hangs thereon, + And long she has lingered for the sign to crush him: + That signal we have given; the time is come! [Thumping on the table.] + + + FIFTH CITIZEN [at another table, looking up from his paper and + speaking across] + + I see that Russia has declined to aid us, + And says she knows that Prussia likewise must; + So that the mission of Prince Schwarzenberg + To Alexander's Court has closed in failure. + + + THIRD CITIZEN + + Ay--through his being honest--fatal sin!-- + Probing too plainly for the Emperor's ears + His ominous friendship with Napoleon. + + + ENGLISHMAN + + Some say he was more than honest with the Tsar; + Hinting that his becoming an ally + Makes him accomplice of the Corsican + In the unprincipled dark overthrow + Of his poor trusting childish Spanish friends-- + Which gave the Tsar offence. + + + THIRD CITIZEN + + And our best bid-- + The last, most delicate dish--a tastelessness. + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + What was Prince Schwarzenberg's best bid, I pray? + + + THIRD CITIZEN + + The offer of the heir of Austria's hand + For Alexander's sister the Grand-Duchess. + + + ENGLISHMAN + + He could not have accepted, if or no: + She is inscribed as wife for Bonaparte. + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + I doubt that text! + + + ENGLISHMAN + + Time's context soon will show. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + The Russian Cabinet can not for long + Resist the ardour of the Russian ranks + To march with us the moment we achieve + Our first loud victory! + + [A band is heard playing afar, and shouting. People are seen + hurrying past in the direction of the sounds. Enter sixth + citizen.] + + + SIXTH CITIZEN + + The Archduke Charles + Is passing the Ringstrasse just by now, + His regiment at his heels! + + [The younger sitters jump up with animation, and go out, the + elder mostly remaining.] + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + Realm never faced + The grin of a more fierce necessity + For horrid war, than ours at this tense time! + + [The sounds of band-playing and huzzaing wane away. Citizens + return.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + More news, my friends, of swiftly swelling zeal? + + + RE-ENTERED CITIZENS + + Ere passing down the Ring, the Archduke paused + And gave the soldiers speech, enkindling them + As sunrise a confronting throng of panes + That glaze a many-windowed east facade: + Hot volunteers vamp in from vill and plain-- + More than we need in the furthest sacrifice! + + + FIRST, SECOND, ETC., CITIZENS + + Huzza! Right so! Good! Forwards! God be praised! + + [They stand up, and a clinking of glasses follows, till they + subside to quietude and a reperusal of newspapers. Nightfall + succeeds. Dancing-rooms are lit up in an opposite street, and + dancing begins. The figures are seen gracefully moving round + to the throbbing strains of a string-band, which plays a new + waltzing movement with a warlike name, soon to spread over + Europe. The dancers sing patriotic words as they whirl. The + night closes over.] + + + + +ACT FOURTH + + SCENE I + + A ROAD OUT OF VIENNA + + [It is morning in early May. Rain descends in torrents, accompanied + by peals of thunder. The tepid downpour has caused the trees to + assume as by magic a clothing of limp green leafage, and has turned + the ruts of the uneven highway into little canals. + + A drenched travelling-chariot is passing, with a meagre escort. + In the interior are seated four women: the ARCHDUCHESS MARIA + LOUISA, in age about eighteen; her stepmother the EMPRESS OF + AUSTRIA, third wife of FRANCIS, only four years older than the + ARCHDUCHESS; and two ladies of the Austrian Court. Behind come + attendant carriages bearing servants and luggage. + + The inmates remain for the most part silent, and appear to be in a + gloomy frame of mind. From time to time they glance at the moist + spring scenes which pass without in a perspective distorted by the + rain-drops that slide down the panes, and by the blurring effect + of the travellers' breathings. Of the four the one who keeps in + the best spirits is the ARCHDUCHESS, a fair, blue-eyed, full- + figured, round-lipped maiden.] + + + MARIA LOUISA + + Whether the rain comes in or not I must open the window. Please + allow me. [She straightway opens it.] + + + EMPRESS [groaning] + + Yes--open or shut it--I don't care. I am too ill to care for + anything! [The carriage jolts into a hole.] O woe! To think that + I am driven away from my husband's home in such a miserable + conveyance, along such a road, and in such weather as this. [Peal + of thunder.] There are his guns! + + + MARIA LOUISA + + No, my dear one. It cannot be his guns. They told us when we + started that he was only half-way from Ratisbon hither, so that he + must be nearly a hundred miles off as yet; and a large army cannot + move fast. + + + EMPRESS + + He should never have been let come nearer than Ratisbon! The victory + at Echmuhl was fatal for us. O Echmuhl, Echmuhl! I believe he will + overtake us before we get to Buda. + + + FIRST LADY-IN-WAITING + + If so, your Majesty, shall we be claimed as prisoners and marched + to Paris? + + + EMPRESS + + Undoubtedly. But I shouldn't much care. It would not be worse than + this.... I feel sodden all through me, and frowzy, and broken! + [She closes her eyes as if to doze.] + + + MARIA LOUISA + + It is dreadful to see her suffer so! [Shutting the window.] If + the roads were not so bad I should not mind. I almost wish we had + stayed; though when he arrives the cannonade will be terrible. + + + FIRST LADY-IN-WAITING + + I wonder if he will get into Vienna. Will his men knock down all + the houses, madam? + + + MARIA LOUISA + + If he do get in, I am sure his triumph will not be for long. My + uncle the Archduke Charles is at his heels! I have been told many + important prophecies about Bonaparte's end, which is fast nearing, + it is asserted. It is he, they say, who is referred to in the + Apocalypse. He is doomed to die this year at Cologne, in an inn + called “The Red Crab.” I don't attach too much importance to all + these predictions, but O, how glad I should be to see them come true! + + + SECOND LADY-IN-WAITING + + So should we all, madam. What would become of his divorce-scheme + then? + + + MARIA LOUISA + + Perhaps there is nothing in that report. One can hardly believe + such gossip. + + + SECOND LADY-IN-WAITING + + But they say, your Imperial Highness, that he certainly has decided + to sacrifice the Empress Josephine, and that at the meeting last + October with the Emperor Alexander at Erfurt, it was even settled + that he should marry as his second wife the Grand-Duchess Anne. + + + MARIA LOUISA + + I am sure that the Empress her mother will never allow one of the + house of Romanoff to marry with a bourgeois Corsican. I wouldn't + if I were she! + + + FIRST LADY-IN-WAITING + + Perhaps, your Highness, they are not so particular in Russia, where + they are rather new themselves, as we in Austria, with your ancient + dynasty, are in such matters. + + + MARIA LOUISA + + Perhaps not. Though the Empress-mother is a pompous old thing, as + I have been told by Prince Schwarzenberg, who was negotiating there + last winter. My father says it would be a dreadful misfortune for + our country if they were to marry. Though if we are to be exiled + I don't see how anything of that sort can matter much.... I hope + my father is safe! + + [An officer of the escort rides up to the carriage window, which + is opened.] + + + EMPRESS [unclosing her eyes] + + Any more misfortunes? + + + OFFICER + + A rumour is a-wind, your Majesty, + That the French host, the Emperor in its midst, + Lannes, Massena, and Bessieres in its van, + Advancing hither along the Ratisbon road, + Has seized the castle and town of Ebersberg, + And burnt all down, with frightful massacre, + Vast heaps of dead and wounded being consumed, + So that the streets stink strong with frizzled flesh.-- + The enemy, ere this, has crossed the Traun, + Hurling brave Hiller's army back on us, + And marches on Amstetten--thirty miles + Less distant from Vienna from before! + + + EMPRESS + + The Lord show mercy to us! But O why + Did not the Archdukes intercept the foe? + + + OFFICER + + His Highness Archduke Charles, your Majesty, + After his sore repulse Bohemia-wards, + Could not proceed with strength and speed enough + To close in junction with the Archduke John + And Archduke Louis, as was their intent. + So Marshall Lannes swings swiftly on Vienna, + With Oudinot's and Demont's might of foot; + Then Massena and all his mounted men, + And then Napoleon, Guards, Cuirassiers, + And the main body of the Imperial Force. + + + EMPRESS + + Alas for poor Vienna! + + + OFFICER + + Even so! + Your Majesty has fled it none too soon. + + [The window is shut, and the procession disappears behind the + sheets of rain.] + + + + SCENE II + + THE ISLAND OF LOBAU, WITH WAGRAM BEYOND + + [The northern horizon at the back of the bird's-eye prospect is + the high ground stretching from the Bisamberg on the left to the + plateau of Wagram on the right. In front of these elevations + spreads the wide plain of the Marchfeld, open, treeless, and with + scarcely a house upon it.[16] + + In the foreground the Danube crosses the scene with a graceful + slowness, looping itself round the numerous wooded islands therein. + The largest of these, immediately under the eye, is the Lobau, + which stands like a knot in the gnarled grain represented by the + running river. + + On this island can be discerned, closely packed, an enormous dark + multitude of foot, horse, and artillery in French uniforms, the + numbers reaching to a hundred and seventy thousand. + + Lifting our eyes to discover what may be opposed to them we + perceive on the Wagram plateau aforesaid, and right and left in + front of it, extended lines of Austrians, whitish and glittering, + to the number of a hundred and forty thousand. + + The July afternoon turns to evening, the evening to twilight. + A species of simmer which pervades the living spectacle raises + expectation till the very air itself seems strained with suspense. + A huge event of some kind is awaiting birth.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + The first change under the cloak of night is that the tightly packed + regiments on the island are got under arms. The soldiery are like + a thicket of reeds in which every reed should be a man. + + A large bridge connects the island with the further shore, as well + as some smaller bridges. Opposite are high redoubts and ravelins + that the Austrians have constructed for opposing the passage across, + which the French ostentatiously set themselves to attempt by the + large bridge, amid heavy cannonading. + + But the movement is a feint, though this is not perceived by the + Austrians as yet. The real movement is on the right hand of the + foreground, behind a spur of the isle, and out of sight of the + enemy; where several large rafts and flat boats, each capable of + carrying three hundred men, are floated out from a screened creek. + + Chosen battalions enter upon these, which immediately begin to cross + with their burden. Simultaneously from other screened nooks + secretly prepared floating bridges, in sections, are moved forth, + joined together, and defended by those who crossed on the rafts. + + At two o'clock in the morning the thousands of cooped soldiers begin + to cross the bridges, producing a scene which, on such a scale, was + never before witnessed in the history of war. A great discharge + from the batteries accompanies this manoeuvre, arousing the Austrians + to a like cannonade. + + The night has been obscure for summer-time, and there is no moon. + The storm now breaks in a tempestuous downpour, with lightning and + thunder. The tumult of nature mingles so fantastically with the + tumult of projectiles that flaming bombs and forked flashes cut the + air in company, and the noise from the mortars alternates with the + noise from the clouds. + + From bridge to bridge and back again a gloomy-eyed figure stalks, as + it has stalked the whole night long, with the restlessness of a wild + animal. Plastered with mud, and dribbling with rain-water, it bears + no resemblance to anything dignified or official. The figure is that + of NAPOLEON, urging his multitudes over. + + By daylight the great mass of the men is across the water. At + six the rain ceases, the mist uncovers the face of the sun, which + bristles on the helmets and bayonets of the French. A hum of + amazement rises from the Austrian hosts, who turn staring faces + southward and perceive what has happened, and the columns of + their enemies standing to arms on the same side of the stream + with themselves, and preparing to turn their left wing. + + NAPOLEON rides along the front of his forces, which now spread out + upon the plain, and are ranged in order of battle. + + Dumb Show ends, and the point of view changes. + + + + SCENE III + + THE FIELD OF WAGRAM + + [The battlefield is now viewed reversely, from the windows of a + mansion at Wolkersdorf, to the rear of the Austrian position. + The aspect of the windows is nearly south, and the prospect includes + the plain of the Marchfeld, with the isled Danube and Lobau in the + extreme distance. Ten miles to the south-west, rightwards, the + faint summit of the tower of St. Stephen's, Vienna, appears. On + the middle-left stands the compact plateau of Wagram, so regularly + shaped as to seem as if constructed by art. On the extreme left + the July sun has lately risen. + + Inside the room are discovered the EMPEROR FRANCIS and some house- + hold officers in attendance; with the War-Minister and Secretaries + at a table at the back. Through open doors can be seen in an outer + apartment adjutants, equerries, aides, and other military men. An + officer in waiting enters.] + + + OFFICER + + During the night the French have shifted, sire, + And much revised their stations of the eve + By thwart and wheeling moves upon our left, + And on our centre--projects unforeseen + Till near accomplished. + + + FRANCIS + + But I am advised + By oral message that the Archduke Charles, + Since the sharp strife last night, has mended, too, + His earlier dispositions, and has sped + Strong orders to the Archduke John, to bring + In swiftest marches all the force he holds, + And fall with heavy impact on the French + From nigh their rear? + + + OFFICER + + 'Tis good, sire; such a swoop + Will raise an obstacle to their retreat + And refuge in the fastness of the isle; + And show this victory-gorged adventurer + That striking with a river in his rear + Is not the safest tactic to be played + Against an Austrian front equipt like ours! + + [The EMPEROR FRANCIS and others scrutinize through their glasses + the positions and movements of the Austrian divisions, which appear + on the plain as pale masses, emitting flashes from arms and helmets + under the July rays, and reaching from the Tower of Neusiedel on + the left, past Wagram, into the village of Stammersdorf on the + right. Beyond their lines are spread out the darker-hued French, + almost parallel to the Austrians.] + + + FRANCIS + + Those moving masses toward the right I deem + The forces of Klenau and Kollowrath, + Sent to support Prince John of Lichtenstein + I his attack that way? + + [An interval.] + + Now that they've gained + The right there, why is not the attack begun? + + + OFFICER + + They are beginning on the left wing, sire. + + [The EMPEROR resumes his glass and beholds bodies of men descending + from the hills by Neusiedel, and crossing the Russbach river towards + the French--a movement which has been going on for some time.] + + + FRANCIS [turning thither] + + Where we are weakest! It surpasses me + To understand why was our centre thinned + To pillar up our right already strong, + Where nought is doing, while our left assault + Stands ill-supported? + + [Time passes in silence.] + + Yes, it is so. See, + The enemy strikes Rossenberg in flank, + Compelling him to fall behind the Russbach! + + [The EMPEROR gets excited, and his face perspires. At length he + cannot watch through his glass, and walks up and down.] + + Penned useless here my nerves annoy my sight! + Inform me what you note.--I should opine + The Wagram height behind impregnable? + + [Another silence, broken by the distant roar of the guns.] + + + OFFICER + + Klenau and Kollowrath are pounding on! + To turn the enemy's left with our strong right + Is, after all, a plan that works out well. + Hiller and Lichtenstein conjoin therein. + + + FRANCIS + + I hear from thence appalling cannonades. + + + OFFICER + + 'Tis their, your Majesty. Now we shall see + If the French read that there the danger lies. + + + FRANCIS + + I only pray that Bonaparte refrain + From spying danger there till all too late! + + + OFFICER [involuntarily, after a pause] + + Ah, Heaven! + + + FRANCIS [turning sharply] + + Well, well? What changes figure now? + + + OFFICER + + They pierce our centre, sire! We are, despite, + Not centrally so weak as I supposed. + Well done, Bellegarde! + + + FRANCIS [glancing to the centre] + + And what has he well done? + + + OFFICER + + The French in fierce fume broke through Aderklaa; + But Bellegarde, pricking along the plain behind, + Has charged and driven them back disorderly. + The Archduke Charles bounds thither, as I shape, + In person to support him! + + [The EMPEROR returns to his spyglass; and they and others watch in + silence, sometimes the right of their front, sometimes the centre.] + + + FRANCIS + + It is so! + That the right attack of ours spells victory, + And Austria's grand salvation!... [Times passes.] Turn your glass, + And closely scan Napoleon and his aides + Hand-galloping towards his centre-left + To strengthen it against the brave Bellegarde. + Does your eye reach him?--That white horse, alone + In front of those that move so rapidly. + + + OFFICER + + It does, sire; though my glass can conjure not + So cunningly as yours.... that horse must be + The famed Euphrates--him the Persian king + Sent Bonaparte as gift. + + [A silence. NAPOLEON reaches a carriage that is moving across. + It bears MASSENA, who, having received a recent wound, in unable + to ride.] + + + FRANCIS + + See, the white horse and horseman pause beside + A coach for some strange reason rolling there.... + That white-horsed rider--yes!--is Bonaparte, + By the aides hovering round.... + New war-wiles have been worded; we shall spell + Their purport soon enough! [An interval.] + The French take heart + To stand to our battalions steadfastly, + And hold their ground, having the Emperor near! + + [Time passes. An aide-de-camp enters.] + + + AIDE + + The Archduke Charles is pierced in the shoulder, sire; + He strove too far in beating back the French + At Aderklaa, and was nearly ta'en. + The wound's not serious.--On our right we win, + And deem the battle ours. + + [Enter another aide-de-camp.] + + + SECOND AIDE + + Your Majesty, + We have borne them back through Aspern village-street + And Essling is recovered. What counts more, + Their bridges to the rear we have nearly grasped, + And panic-struck they crowd the few left free, + Choking the track, with cries of “All is lost!” + + + FRANCIS + + Then is the land delivered. God be praised! + + [Exeunt aides. An interval, during which the EMPEROR and his + companions again remain anxiously at their glasses.] + + There is a curious feature I discern + To have come upon the battle. On our right + We gain ground rapidly; towards the left + We lose it; and the unjudged consequence + Is that the armies; whole commingling mass + Moves like a monstrous wheel. I like it not! + + [Enter another aide-de-camp.] + + + THIRD AIDE + + Our left wing, sire, recedes before Davout, + Whom nothing can withstand! Two corps he threw + Across the Russbach up to Neusiedel, + While he himself assailed the place in front. + Of the divisions one pressed on and on, + Till lodged atop. They would have been hurled back--- + + + FRANCIS + + But how goes it with us in sum? pray say! + + + THIRD AIDE + + We have been battered off the eastern side + Of Wagram plateau. + + + FRANCIS + + Where's the Archduke John? + Why comes he not? One man of his here now + Were worth a host anon. And yet he tarries! + + [Exit third aide. Time passes, while they reconnoitre the field + with strained eyes.] + + Our centre-right, it seems, round Neusiedel, + Is being repulsed! May the kind Heaven forbid + That Hesse Homberg should be yielding there! + + [The Minister in attendance comes forward, and the EMPEROR consults + him; then walking up and down in silence. Another aide-de-camp + enters.] + + + FOURTH AIDE + + Sire, Neusiedel has just been wrenched from us, + And the French right is on the Wagram crest; + Nordmann has fallen, and Veczay: Hesse Homberg, + Warteachben, Muger--almost all our best-- + Bleed more or less profusely! + + [A gloomy silence. Exit fourth side. Ten minutes pass. Enter an + officer in waiting.] + + + FRANCIS + + What guns are those that groan from Wagram height? + + + OFFICER + + Alas, Davout's! I have climbed the roof-top, sire, + And there discerned the truth. + + [Cannonade continues. A long interval of suspense. The EMPEROR + returns to his glass.] + + + FRANCIS + + A part of it! + There seems to be a grim, concerted lunge + By the whole strength of France upon our right, + Centre, and left wing simultaneously! + + + OFFICER + + Most viciously upon the centre, sire, + If I mistook not, hard by Sussenbrunn; + The assault is led by Bonaparte in person, + Who shows himself with marvellous recklessness, + Yet like a phantom-fiend receives no hurt. + + + FRANCIS [still gazing] + + Ha! Now the Archduke Charles has seen the intent, + And taken steps against it. Sussenbrunn + Must be the threatened thing. [Silence.] What an advance!-- + Straight hitherward. Our centre girdles them.-- + Surely they'll not persist? Who heads that charge? + + + OFFICER + + They say Macdonald, sire. + + + FRANCIS + + Meagrest remains + Will there be soon of those in that advance! + We are burning them to bones by our hot fire. + They are almost circumscribed: if fully so + The battle's ours! What's that behind them, eh? + + + OFFICER + + Their last reserves, that they may feed the front, + And sterilize our hope! + + + FRANCIS + + Yes, their reserve-- + Dragoons and cuirassiers--charge in support. + You see their metal gleaming as they come. + Well, it is neck or nothing for them now! + + + OFFICER + + It's nothing, sire. Their charge of cavalry + Has desperately failed. + + + FRANCIS + + Their foot press on, + However, with a battery in front + Which deals the foulest damage done us yet. [Time passes.] + They ARE effecting lodgment, after all. + Who would have reckoned on't--our men so firm! + + [Re-enter first aide-de-camp.] + + + FIRST AIDE + + The Archduke Charles retreats, your majesty; + And the issue wears a dirty look just now. + + + FRANCIS [gloomily] + + Yes: I have seen the signs for some good while. + But he retreats with blows, and orderly. + + [Time passes, till the sun has rounded far towards the west. The + features of the battle now materially change. The French have + regained Aspern and Essling; the Austrian army is doubled back + from the Danube and from the heights of Wagram, which, as + viewed from Wolkersdorf, face the afternoon shine, the French + established thereon glittering in the rays. + + + FRANCIS [choking a sigh] + + The turn has passed. We are worsted, but not overwhelmed!... + The French advance is laboured, and but slow. + --This might have been another-coloured day + If but the Archduke John had joined up promptly; + Yet still he lags! + + + ANOTHER OFFICER [lately entered] + + He's just now coming, sire. + His columns glimmer in the Frenchmen's rear. + Past Siebenbrunn's and Loebensdorf's smoked hills. + + + FRANCIS [impatiently] + + Ay--coming NOW! Why could he not be COME! + + [They watch intently.] + + We can see nothing of that side from here. + + [Enter a general officer, who speaks to the Minister at the back + of the room.] + + + MINISTER [coming forward] + + Your Majesty, I now have to suggest, + Pursuant to conclusions reached this morn, + That since the front and flower of all our force + Is seen receding to the Bisamberg, + These walls no longer yield safe shade for you, + Or facile outlook. Scouts returning say + Either Davout, or Bonaparte himself, + With the mid-columns of his forward corps, + Will bear up hitherward in fierce pursuit, + And may intrude beneath this very roof. + Not yet, I think; it may not be to-night; + But we should stand prepared. + + + FRANCIS + + If we must go + We'll go with a good grace, unfeignedly! + Who knows to-morrow may not see regained + What we have lost to-day? + + [Re-enter fourth aide-de-camp.] + + + FOURTH AIDE [breathlessly] + + The Archduke John, + Discerning our main musters in retreat, + Abandons an advance that throws on him + The enemy's whole brunt if he bear on. + + + FRANCIS + + Alas for his devotion! Let us go. + Such weight of sadness as we shoulder now + Will wring us down to sleep in stall or stye, + If even that be found!... Think! Bonaparte, + By reckless riskings of his life and limb, + Has turned the steelyard of our strength to-day + Whilst I have idled here!... May brighter times + Attend the cause of Europe far in Spain, + And British blood flow not, as ours, in vain! + + [Exeunt the EMPEROR FRANCIS, minister, officers, and attendants. + The night comes, and the scene is obscured.] + + + + SCENE IV + + THE FIELD OF TALAVERA + + [It is the same month and weather as in the preceding scene. + + Talavera town, on the river Tagus, is at the extreme right of the + foreground; a mountain range on the extreme left. + + The allied army under SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY stretches between--the + English on the left, the Spanish on the right--part holding a hill + to the left-centre of the scene, divided from the mountains by a + valley, and part holding a redoubt to the right-centre. This army + of more than fifty thousand all told, of which twenty-two thousand + only are English, has its back to the spectator. + + Beyond, in a wood of olive, oak, and cork, are the fifty to sixty + thousand French, facing the spectator and the allies. Their right + includes a strong battery upon a hill which fronts the one on the + English left. + + Behind all, the heights of Salinas close the prospect, the small + river Alberche flowing at their foot from left to right into the + Tagus, which advances in foreshortened perspective to the town at + the right front corner of the scene as aforesaid.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + The hot and dusty July afternoon having turned to twilight, shady + masses of men start into motion from the French position, come towards + the foreground, silently ascend the hill on the left of the English, + and assail the latter in a violent outburst of fire and lead. They + nearly gain possession of the hill ascended. + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music] + + Talavera tongues it as ten o' the night-time: + Now come Ruffin's slaughterers surging upward, + Backed by bold Vilatte's! From the vale Lapisse, too, + Darkly outswells there! + + Down the vague veiled incline the English fling them, + Bended bayonets prodding opponents backward: + So the first fierce charge of the ardent Frenchmen + England repels there! + + + Having fallen back into the darkness the French presently reascend + in yet larger masses. The high square knapsack which every English + foot-soldier carries, and his shako, and its tuft, outline themselves + against the dim light as the ranks stand awaiting the shock. + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS + + Pushing spread they!--shout as they reach the summit!-- + Strength and stir new-primed in their plump battalions: + Puffs of barbed flame blown on the lines opposing + Higher and higher. + + There those hold them mute, though at speaking distance-- + Mute, while clicking flints, and the crash of volleys + Whelm the weighted gloom with immense distraction + Pending their fire. + + Fronting heads, helms, brows can each ranksman read there, + Epaulettes, hot cheeks, and the shining eyeball, + [Called a trice from gloom by the fleeting pan-flash] + Pressing them nigher! + + + The French again fall back in disorder into the hollow, and LAPISSE + draws off on the right. As the sinking sound of the muskets tells + what has happened the English raise a shout. + + + CHORUS OF PITIES + + Thus the dim nocturnal embroil of conflict + Closes with the roar of receding gun-fire. + Harness loosened then, and their day-long strenuous + Temper unbending, + + Worn-out lines lie down where they late stood staunchly-- + Cloaks around them rolled--by the bivouac embers: + There at dawn to stake in the dynasts' death-game + All, till the ending! + + + + SCENE V + + THE SAME + + + DUMB SHOW [continued] + + The morning breaks. There is another murderous attempt to dislodge the + English from the hill, the assault being pressed with a determination + that excites the admiration of the English themselves. + + The French are seen descending into the valley, crossing it, and + climbing it on the English side under the fire of HILL'S whole + division, all to no purpose. In their retreat they leave behind + them on the slopes nearly two thousand lying. + + The day advances to noon, and the air trembles in the intense heat. + The combat flags, and is suspended. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + What do I see but thirsty, throbbing bands + From these inimic hosts defiling down + In homely need towards the little stream + That parts their enmities, and drinking there! + They get to grasping hands across the rill, + Sealing their sameness as earth's sojourners.-- + What more could plead the wryness of the time + Than such unstudied piteous pantomimes! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + It is only that Life's queer mechanics chance to work out in this + grotesque shape just now. The groping tentativeness of an Immanent + Will [as grey old Years describes it] cannot be asked to learn logic + at this time of day! The spectacle of Its instruments, set to riddle + one another through, and then to drink together in peace and concord, + is where the humour comes in, and makes the play worth seeing! + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Come, Sprite, don't carry your ironies too far, or you may wake up + the Unconscious Itself, and tempt It to let all the gory clock-work + of the show run down to spite me! + + + DUMB SHOW [continuing] + + The drums roll, and the men of the two nations part from their + comradeship at the Alberche brook, the dark masses of the French + army assembling anew. SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY has seated himself on + a mound that commands a full view of the contested hill, and + remains there motionless a long time. When the French form for + battle he is seen to have come to a conclusion. He mounts, gives + his orders, and the aides ride off. + + The French advance steadily through the sultry atmosphere, the + skirmishers in front, and the columns after, moving, yet seemingly + motionless. Their eighty cannon peal out and their shots mow every + space in the line of them. Up the great valley and the terraces of + the hill whose fame is at that moment being woven, comes VILLATE, + boring his way with foot and horse, and RUFFIN'S men following + behind. + + According to the order given, the Twenty-third Light Dragoons and + the German Hussars advance at a chosen moment against the head of + these columns. On the way they disappear. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Why this bedevilment? What can have chanced? + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + It so befalls that as their chargers near + The inimical wall of flesh with its iron frise, + A treacherous chasm uptrips them: zealous men + And docile horses roll to dismal death + And horrid mutilation. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Those who live + Even now advance! I'll see no more. Relate. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + Yes, those pant on. Then further Frenchmen cross, + And Polish Lancers, and Westphalian Horse, + Who ring around these luckless Islanders, + And sweep them down like reeds by the river-bank + In scouring floods; till scarce a man remains. + + + Meanwhile on the British right SEBASTIANI'S corps has precipitated + itself in column against GENERAL CAMPBELL'S division, the division + of LAPISSE against the centre, and at the same time the hill on the + English left is again assaulted. The English and their allies are + pressed sorely here, the bellowing battery tearing lanes through + their masses. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR [continuing] + + The French reserves of foot and horse now on, + Smiting the Islanders in breast and brain + Till their mid-lines are shattered.... Now there ticks + The moment of the crisis; now the next, + Which brings the turning stroke. + + + SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY sends down the Forty-eighth regiment under + COLONEL DONELLAN to support the wasting troops. It advances amid + those retreating, opening to let them pass. + + + SPIRIT OF THE RUMOUR [continuing] + + The pales, enerved, + The hitherto unflinching enemy! + Lapisse is pierced to death; the flagging French + Decline into the hollows whence they came. + The too exhausted English and reduced + Lack strength to follow.--Now the western sun, + Conning with unmoved visage quick and dead, + Gilds horsemen slackening, and footmen stilled, + Till all around breathes drowsed hostility. + + Last, the swealed herbage lifts a leering light, + And flames traverse the field; and hurt and slain + Opposed, opposers, in a common plight + Are scorched together on the dusk champaign. + + + The fire dies down, and darkness enwraps the scene. + + + + SCENE VI + + BRIGHTON. THE ROYAL PAVILION + + [It is the birthday dinner-party of the PRINCE OF WALES. In the + floridly decorated banqueting-room stretch tables spread with gold + and silver plate, and having artificial fountains in their midst. + + Seated at the tables are the PRINCE himself as host--rosy, well + curled, and affable--the DUKES OF YORK, CLARENCE, KENT, SUSSEX, + CUMBERLAND, and CAMBRIDGE, with many noblemen, including LORDS + HEADFORT, BERKELEY, EGREMONT, CHICHESTER, DUDLEY, SAY AND SELE, + SOUTHAMPTON, HEATHFIELD, ERSKINE, KEITH, C. SOMERSET, G. CAVENDISH, + R. SEYMOUR, and others; SIR C. POLE, SIR E.G. DE CRESPIGNY, MR. + SHERIDAN; Generals, Colonels, and Admirals, and the REV. MR. SCOTT. + + The PRINCE'S band plays in the adjoining room. The banquet is + drawing to its close, and a boisterous conversation is in progress. + + Enter COLONEL BLOOMFIELD with a dispatch for the PRINCE, who looks + it over amid great excitement in the company. In a few moments + silence is called.] + + + PRINCE OF WALES + + I have the joy, my lords and gentlemen, + To rouse you with the just imported tidings + From General Wellesley through Lord Castlereagh + Of a vast victory [noisy cheers] over the French in Spain. + The place--called Talavera de la Reyna + [If I pronounce it rightly]--long unknown, + Wears not the crest and blazonry of fame! [Cheers.] + The heads and chief contents of the dispatch + I read you as succinctly as I can. [Cheers.] + + + SHERIDAN [singing sotto voce] + + “Now foreign foemen die and fly, + Dammy, we'll drink little England dry!” + + [The PRINCE reads the parts of the dispatch that describe the + battle, amid intermittent cheers.] + + + PRINCE OF WALES [continuing] + + Such is the substance of the news received, + Which, after Wagram, strikes us genially + As sudden sunrise through befogged night shades! + + + SHERIDAN [privately] + + By God, that's good, sir! You are a poet born, while the rest of us + are but made, and bad at that. + + [The health of the army in Spain is drunk with acclamations.] + + + PRINCE OF WALES [continuing] + + In this achievement we, alas! have lost + Too many! Yet suck blanks must ever be.-- + Mackenzie, Langworth, Beckett of the Guards, + Have fallen of ours; while of the enemy + Generals Lapisse and Morlot are laid low.-- + Drink to their memories! + + [They drink in silence.] + + Other news, my friends, + Received to-day is of like hopeful kind. + The Great War-Expedition to the Scheldt [Cheers.] + Which lately sailed, has found a favouring wind, + And by this hour has touched its destined shores. + The enterprise will soon be hot aglow, + The invaders making first the Cadsand coast, + And then descending on Walcheren Isle. + But items of the next step are withheld + Till later days, from obvious policy. [Cheers.] + + [Faint throbbing sounds, like the notes of violincellos and + contrabassos, reach the ear from some building without as the + speaker pauses. + + In worthy emulation of us here + The county holds to-night a birthday ball, + Which flames with all the fashion of the town. + I have been asked to patronize their revel, + And sup with them, and likewise you, my guests. + We have good reason, with such news to bear! + Thither we haste and join our loyal friends, + And stir them with this live intelligence + Of our staunch regiments on the Spanish plains. [Applause.] + With them we'll now knit hands and beat the ground, + And bring in dawn as we whirl round and round! + There are some fair ones in their set to-night, + And such we need here in our bachelor-plight. [Applause.] + + [The PRINCE, his brothers, and a large proportion of the other + Pavilion guests, swagger out in the direction of the Castle + assembly-rooms adjoining, and the deserted banqueting-hall grows + dark. In a few moments the back of the scene opens, revealing + the assembly-rooms behind.] + + + + SCENE VII + + THE SAME. THE ASSEMBLY ROOMS + + [The rooms are lighted with candles in brass chandeliers, and a + dance is in full movement to the strains of a string-band. A + signal is given, shortly after the clock has struck eleven, by + MR. FORTH, Master of Ceremonies.] + + + FORTH + + His Royal Highness comes, though somewhat late, + But never too late for welcome! [Applause.] Dancers, stand, + That we may do fit homage to the Prince + Who soon may shine our country's gracious king. + + + [After a brief stillness a commotion is heard at the door, the band + strikes up the National air, and the PRINCE enters, accompanied by + the rest of the visitors from the Pavilion. The guests who have + been temporarily absent now crowd in, till there is hardly space + to stand.] + + + PRINCE OF WALES [wiping his face and whispering to Sheridan] + + What shall I say to fit their feeling here? + Damn me, that other speech has stumped me quite! + + + SHERIDAN [whispering] + + If heat be evidence of loy--- + + + PRINCE OF WALES + + If what? + + + SHERIDAN + + If heat be evidence of loyalty, + Et caetera--something quaint like that might please 'em. + + + PRINCE OF WALES [to the company] + + If heat be evidence of loyalty, + This room affords it truly without question; + If heat be not, then its accompaniment + Most surely 'tis to-night. The news I bring, + Good ladies, friends, and gentlemen, perchance + You have divined already? That our arms-- + Engaged to thwart Napoleon's tyranny + Over the jaunty, jocund land of Spain + Even to the highest apex of our strength-- + Are rayed with victory! [Cheers.] Lengthy was the strife + And fierce, and hot; and sore the suffering; + But proudly we endured it; and shall hear, + No doubt, of its far consequence + Ere many days. I'll read the details sent. [Cheers.] + + [He reads again from the dispatch amid more cheering, the ball- + room guests crowding round. When he has done he answers questions; + then continuing: + + Meanwhile our interest is, if possible, + As keenly waked elsewhere. Into the Scheldt + Some forty thousand bayonets and swords, + And twoscore ships o' the line, with frigates, sloops, + And gunboats sixty more, make headway now, + Bleaching the waters with their bellying sails; + Or maybe they already anchor there, + And that level ooze of Walcheren shore + Ring with the voices of that landing host + In every twang of British dialect, + Clamorous to loosen fettered Europe's chain! [Cheers.] + + + A NOBLE LORD [aside to Sheridan] + + Prinny's outpouring tastes suspiciously like your brew, Sheridan. + I'll be damned if it is his own concoction. How d'ye sell it a + gallon? + + + SHERIDAN + + I don't deal that way nowadays. I give the recipe, and charge a + duty on the gauging. It is more artistic, and saves trouble. + + [The company proceed to the supper-rooms, and the ball-room sinks + into solitude.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + So they pass on. Let be!--But what is this-- + A moan?--all frailly floating from the east + To usward, even from the forenamed isle?... + Would I had not broke nescience, to inspect + A world so ill-contrived! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + But since thou hast + We'll hasten to the isle; and thou'lt behold-- + Such as it is--the scene its coasts enfold. + + + + SCENE VIII + + WALCHEREN + + [A marshy island at the mouth of the Scheldt, lit by the low + sunshine of an evening in late summer. The horizontal rays from + the west lie in yellow sheaves across the vapours that the day's + heat has drawn from the sweating soil. Sour grasses grow in + places, and strange fishy smells, now warm, now cold, pass along. + Brass-hued and opalescent bubbles, compounded of many gases, rise + where passing feet have trodden the damper spots. At night the + place is the haunt of the Jack-lantern.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + A vast army is encamped here, and in the open spaces are infantry on + parade--skeletoned men, some flushed, some shivering, who are kept + moving because it is dangerous to stay still. Every now and then + one falls down, and is carried away to a hospital with no roof, where + he is laid, bedless, on the ground. + + In the distance soldiers are digging graves for the funerals which + are to take place after dark, delayed till then that the sight of + so many may not drive the living melancholy-mad. Faint noises are + heard in the air. + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + What storm is this of souls dissolved in sighs, + And what the dingy doom it signifies? + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + We catch a lamentation shaped thuswise: + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + “We who withstood the blasting blaze of war + When marshalled by the gallant Moore awhile, + Beheld the grazing death-bolt with a smile, + Closed combat edge to edge and bore to bore, + Now rot upon this Isle! + + “The ever wan morass, the dune, the blear + Sandweed, and tepid pool, and putrid smell, + Emaciate purpose to a fractious fear, + Beckon the body to its last low cell-- + A chink no chart will tell. + + “O ancient Delta, where the fen-lights flit! + Ignoble sediment of loftier lands, + Thy humour clings about our hearts and hands + And solves us to its softness, till we sit + As we were part of it. + + “Such force as fever leaves maddened now, + With tidings trickling in from day to day + Of others' differing fortunes, wording how + They yield their lives to baulk a tyrant's sway-- + Yield them not vainly, they! + + “In champaigns green and purple, far and near, + In town and thorpe where quiet spire-cocks turn, + Through vales, by rocks, beside the brooding burn + Echoes the aggressor's arrogant career; + And we pent pithless here! + + “Here, where each creeping day the creeping file + Draws past with shouldered comrades score on score, + Bearing them to their lightless last asile, + Where weary wave-wails from the clammy shore + Will reach their ears no more. + + “We might have fought, and had we died, died well, + Even if in dynasts' discords not our own; + Our death-spot some sad haunter might have shown, + Some tongue have asked our sires or sons to tell + The tale of how we fell; + + “But such be chanced not. Like the mist we fade, + No lustrous lines engrave in story we, + Our country's chiefs, for their own fames afraid, + Will leave our names and fates by this pale sea, + To perish silently!” + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Why must ye echo as mechanic mimes + These mortal minion's bootless cadences, + Played on the stops of their anatomy + As is the mewling music on the strings + Of yonder ship-masts by the unweeting wind, + Or the frail tune upon this withering sedge + That holds its papery blades against the gale? + --Men pass to dark corruption, at the best, + Ere I can count five score: these why not now?-- + The Immanent Shaper builds Its beings so + Whether ye sigh their sighs with them or no! + + + The night fog enwraps the isle and the dying English army. + + + + +ACT FIFTH + + + SCENE I + + PARIS. A BALLROOM IN THE HOUSE OF CAMBACERES + + [The many-candled saloon at the ARCH-CHANCELLOR'S is visible + through a draped opening, and a crowd of masked dancers in + fantastic costumes revolve, sway, and intermingle to the music + that proceeds from an alcove at the further end of the same + apartment. The front of the scene is a withdrawing-room of + smaller size, now vacant, save for the presence of one sombre + figure, that of NAPOLEON, seated and apparently watching the + moving masquerade.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Napoleon even now embraces not + From stress of state affairs, which hold him grave + Through revels that might win the King of Spleen + To toe a measure! I would speak with him. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Speak if thou wilt whose speech nor mars nor mends! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES [into Napoleon's ear] + + Why thus and thus Napoleon? Can it be + That Wagram with its glories, shocks, and shames, + Still leaves athirst the palate of thy pride? + + + NAPOLEON [answering as in soliloquy] + + The trustless, timorous lease of human life + Warns me to hedge in my diplomacy. + The sooner, then, the safer! Ay, this eve, + This very night, will I take steps to rid + My morrows of the weird contingencies + That vision round and make one hollow-eyed.... + The unexpected, lurid death of Lannes-- + Rigid as iron, reaped down like a straw-- + Tiptoed Assassination haunting round + In unthought thoroughfares, the near success + Of Staps the madman, argue to forbid + The riskful blood of my previsioned line + And potence for dynastic empery + To linger vialled in my veins alone. + Perhaps within this very house and hour, + Under an innocent mask of Love or Hope, + Some enemy queues my ways to coffin me.... + When at the first clash of the late campaign, + A bold belief in Austria's star prevailed, + There pulsed quick pants of expectation round + Among the cowering kings, that too well told + What would have fared had I been overthrown! + So; I must send down shoots to future time + Who'll plant my standard and my story there; + And a way opens.--Better I had not + Bespoke a wife from Alexander's house. + Not there now lies my look. But done is done! + + [The dance ends and masks enter, BERTHIER among them. NAPOLEON + beckons to him, and he comes forward.] + + God send you find amid this motley crew + Frivolities enough, friend Berthier--eh? + My thoughts have worn oppressive shades despite such! + What scandals of me do they bandy here? + These close disguises render women bold-- + Their shames being of the light, not of the thing-- + And your sagacity has garnered much, + I make no doubt, of ill and good report, + That marked our absence from the capital? + + + BERTHIER + + Methinks, your Majesty, the enormous tale + Of your campaign, like Aaron's serpent-rod, + Has swallowed up the smaller of its kind. + Some speak, 'tis true, in counterpoise thereto, + Of English deeds by Talavera town, + Though blurred by their exploit at Walcheren, + And all its crazy, crass futilities. + + + NAPOLEON + + Yet was the exploit well featured in design, + Large in idea, and imaginative; + I had not deemed the blinkered English folk + So capable of view. Their fate contrived + To place an idiot at the helm of it, + Who marred its working, else it had been hard + If things had not gone seriously for us. + --But see, a lady saunters hitherward + Whose gait proclaims her Madame Metternich, + One that I fain would speak with. + + [NAPOLEON rises and crosses the room toward a lady-masker who has + just appeared in the opening. BERTHIER draws off, and the EMPEROR, + unceremoniously taking the lady's arm, brings her forward to a + chair, and sits down beside her as dancing is resumed.] + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + In a flash + I recognized you, sire; as who would not + The bearer of such deep-delved charactery? + + + NAPOLEON + + The devil, madame, take your piercing eyes! + It's hard I cannot prosper in a game + That every coxcomb plays successfully. + --So here you are still, though your loving lord + Disports him at Vienna? + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + Paris, true, + Still holds me; though in quiet, save to-night, + When I have been expressly prayed come hither, + Or I had not left home. + + + NAPOLEON + + I sped that Prayer!-- + I have a wish to put a case to you, + Wherein a woman's judgment, such as yours, + May be of signal service. [He lapses into reverie.] + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + Well? The case-- + + + NAPOLEON + + Is marriage--mine. + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + It is beyond me, sire! + + + NAPOLEON + + You glean that I have decided to dissolve + [Pursuant to monitions murmured long] + My union with the present Empress--formed + Without the Church's due authority? + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + Vaguely. And that light tentatives have winged + Betwixt your Majesty and Russia's court, + To moot that one of their Grand Duchesses + Should be your Empress-wife. Nought else I know. + + + NAPOLEON + + There have been such approachings; more, worse luck. + Last week Champagny wrote to Alexander + Asking him for his sister--yes or no. + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + What “worse luck” lies in that, your Majesty, + If severance from the Empress Josephine + Be fixed unalterably? + + + NAPOLEON + + This worse luck lies there: + If your Archduchess, Marie Louise the fair, + Would straight accept my hand, I'd offer it, + And throw the other over. Faith, the Tsar + Has shown such backwardness in answering me, + Time meanwhile trotting, that I have ample ground + For such withdrawal.--Madame, now, again, + Will your Archduchess marry me of no? + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + Your sudden questions quite confound my sense! + It is impossible to answer them. + + + NAPOLEON + + Well, madame, now I'll put it to you thus: + Were you in the Archduchess Marie's place + Would you accept my hand--and heart therewith? + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + I should refuse you--most assuredly![17] + + + NAPOLEON [laughing roughly] + + Ha-ha! That's frank. And devilish cruel too! + --Well, write to your husband. Ask him what he thinks, + And let me know. + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + Indeed, sire, why should I? + There goes the Ambassador, Prince Schwarzenberg, + Successor to my spouse. He's now the groove + And proper conduit of diplomacy + Through whom to broach this matter to his Court. + + + NAPOLEON + + Do you, then, broach it through him, madame, pray; + Now, here, to-night. + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + I will, informally, + To humour you, on this recognizance, + That you leave not the business in my hands, + But clothe your project in official guise + Through him to-morrow; so safeguarding me + From foolish seeming, as the babbler forth + Of a fantastic and unheard of dream. + + + NAPOLEON + + I'll send Eugene to him, as you suggest. + Meanwhile prepare him. Make your stand-point this: + Children are needful to my dynasty, + And if one woman cannot mould them for me, + Why, then, another must. + + [Exit NAPOLEON abruptly. Dancing continues. MADAME METTERNICH + sits on, musing. Enter SCHWARZENBERG.] + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + The Emperor has just left me. We have tapped + This theme and that; his empress and--his next. + Ay, so! Now, guess you anything? + + + SCHWARZENBERG + + Of her? + No more than that the stock of Romanoff + Will not supply the spruce commodity. + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + And that the would-be customer turns toe + To our shop in Vienna. + + + SCHWARZENBERG + + Marvellous; + And comprehensible but as the dream + Of Delaborde, of which I have lately heard. + It will not work!--What think you, madame, on't? + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + That it will work, and is as good as wrought!-- + I break it to you thus, at his request. + In brief time Prince Eugene will wait on you, + And make the formal offer in his name. + + + SCHWARZENBERG + + Which I can but receive _ad referendum_, + And shall initially make clear as much, + Disclosing not a glimpse of my own mind! + Meanwhile you make good Metternich aware? + + + MADAME METTERNICH + + I write this midnight, that amaze may pitch + To coolness ere your messenger arrives. + + + SCHWARZENBERG + + This radiant revelation flicks a gleam + On many circling things!--the courtesies + Which graced his bearing toward our officer + Amid the tumults of the late campaign, + His wish for peace with England, his affront + At Alexander's tedious-timed reply... + Well, it will thrust a thorn in Russia's side, + If I err not, whatever else betide! + + [Exeunt. The maskers surge into the foreground of the scene, and + their motions become more and more fantastic. A strange gloom + begins and intensifies, until only the high lights of their + grinning figures are visible. These also, with the whole ball- + room, gradually darken, and the music softens to silence.] + + + + SCENE II + + PARIS. THE TUILERIES + + [The evening of the next day. A saloon of the Palace, with + folding-doors communicating with a dining-room. The doors are + flung open, revealing on the dining-table an untouched dinner, + NAPOLEON and JOSEPHINE rising from it, and DE BAUSSET, chamberlain- + in-waiting, pacing up and down. The EMPEROR and EMPRESS come + forward into the saloon, the latter pale and distressed, and + patting her eyes with her handkerchief. + + The doors are closed behind them; a page brings in coffee; NAPOLEON + signals to him to leave. JOSEPHINE goes to pour out the coffee, + but NAPOLEON pushes her aside and pours it out himself, looking at + her in a way which causes her to sink cowering into a chair like a + frightened animal.] + + + JOSEPHINE + + I see my doom, my friend, upon your face! + + + NAPOLEON + + You see me bored by Cambaceres' ball. + + + JOSEPHINE + + It means divorce!--a thing more terrible + Than carrying elsewhere the dalliances + That formerly were mine. I kicked at that; + But now agree, as I for long have done, + To any infidelities of act + May I be yours in name! + + + NAPOLEON + + My mind must bend + To other things than our domestic petting: + The Empire orbs above our happiness, + And 'tis the Empire dictates this divorce. + I reckon on your courage and calm sense + To breast with me the law's formalities, + And get it through before the year has flown. + + + JOSEPHINE + + But are you REALLY going to part from me? + O no, no, my dear husband; no, in truth, + It cannot be my Love will serve me so! + + + NAPOLEON + + I mean but mere divorcement, as I said, + On simple grounds of sapient sovereignty. + + + JOSEPHINE + + But nothing have I done save good to you:-- + Since the fond day we wedded into one + I never even have THOUGHT you jot of harm! + Many the happy junctures when you have said + I stood as guardian-angel over you, + As your Dame Fortune, too, and endless things + Of such-like pretty tenour--yes, you have! + Then how can you so gird against me now? + You had not pricked upon it much of late, + And so I hoped and hoped the ugly spectre + Had been laid dead and still. + + + NAPOLEON [impatiently] + + I tell you, dear, + The thing's decreed, and even the princess chosen. + + + JOSEPHINE + + Ah--so--the princess chosen!... I surmise + It is none else than the Grand-Duchess Anne: + Gossip was right--though I would not believe. + She's young; but no great beauty!--Yes, I see + Her silly, soulless eyes and horrid hair; + In which new gauderies you'll forget sad me! + + + NAPOLEON + + Upon my soul you are childish, Josephine: + A woman of your years to pout it so!-- + I say it's not the Tsar's Grand-Duchess Anne. + + + JOSEPHINE + + Some other Fair, then. You whose name can nod + The flower of all the world's virginity + Into your bed, will well take care of that! + [Spitefully.] She may not have a child, friend, after all. + + + NAPOLEON [drily] + + You hope she won't, I know!--But don't forget + Madame Walewska did, and had she shown + Such cleverness as yours, poor little fool, + Her withered husband might have been displaced, + And her boy made my heir.--Well, let that be. + The severing parchments will be signed by us + Upon the fifteenth, prompt. + + + JOSEPHINE + + What--I have to sign + My putting away upon the fifteenth next? + + + NAPOLEON + + Ay--both of us. + + + JOSEPHINE [falling on her knees] + + So far advanced--so far! + Fixed?--for the fifteenth? O I do implore you, + My very dear one, by our old, old love, + By my devotion, don't cast me off + Now, after these long years! + + + NAPOLEON + + Heavens, how you jade me! + Must I repeat that I don't cast you off; + We merely formally arrange divorce-- + We live and love, but call ourselves divided. + + [A silence.] + + + JOSEPHINE [with sudden calm] + + Very well. Let it be. I must submit! [Rises.] + + + NAPOLEON + + And this much likewise you must promise me, + To act in the formalities thereof + As if you shaped them of your own free will. + + + JOSEPHINE + + How can I--when no freewill's left in me? + + + NAPOLEON + + You are a willing party--do you hear? + + + JOSEPHINE [quivering] + + I hardly--can--bear this!--It is--too much + For a poor weak and broken woman's strength! + But--but I yield!--I am so helpless now: + I give up all--ay, kill me if you will, + I won't cry out! + + + NAPOLEON + + And one thing further still, + You'll help me in my marriage overtures + To win the Duchess--Austrian Marie she,-- + Concentrating all your force to forward them. + + + JOSEPHINE + + It is the--last humiliating blow!-- + I cannot--O, I will not! + + + NAPOLEON [fiercely] + + But you SHALL! + And from your past experience you may know + That what I say I mean! + + + JOSEPHINE [breaking into sobs] + + O my dear husband--do not make me--don't! + If you but cared for me--the hundredth part + Of how--I care for you, you could not be + So cruel as to lay this torture on me. + It hurts me so!--it cuts me like a sword. + Don't make me, dear! Don't, will you! O,O,O! + [She sinks down in a hysterical fit.] + + + NAPOLEON [calling] + + Bausset! + + [Enter DE BAUSSET, Chamberlain-in-waiting.] + + Bausset, come in and shut the door. + Assist me here. The Empress has fallen ill. + Don't call for help. We two can carry her + By the small private staircase to her rooms. + Here--I will take her feet. + + [They lift JOSEPHINE between them and carry her out. Her moans + die away as they recede towards the stairs. Enter two servants, + who remove coffee-service, readjust chairs, etc.] + + + FIRST SERVANT + + So, poor old girl, she's wailed her _Missere Mei_, as Mother Church + says. I knew she was to get the sack ever since he came back. + + + SECOND SERVANT + + Well, there will be a little civil huzzaing, a little crowing and + cackling among the Bonapartes at the downfall of the Beauharnais + family at last, mark me there will! They've had their little hour, + as the poets say, and now 'twill be somebody else's turn. O it is + droll! Well, Father Time is a great philosopher, if you take him + right. Who is to be the new woman? + + + FIRST SERVANT + + She that contains in her own corporation the necessary particular. + + + SECOND SERVANT + + And what may they be? + + + FIRST SERVANT + + She must be young. + + + SECOND SERVANT + + Good. She must. The country must see to that. + + + FIRST SERVANT + + And she must be strong. + + + SECOND SERVANT + + Good again. She must be strong. The doctors will see to that. + + FIRST SERVANT + And she must be fruitful as the vine. + + + SECOND SERVANT + + Ay, by God. She must be fruitful as the vine. That, Heaven help + him, he must see to himself, like the meanest multiplying man in + Paris. + + [Exeunt servant. Re-enter NAPOLEON with his stepdaughter, Queen + Hortense.] + + + NAPOLEON + Your mother is too rash and reasonless-- + Wailing and fainting over statesmanship + Which is no personal caprice of mine, + But policy most painful--forced on me + By the necessities of this country's charge. + Go to her; see if she be saner now; + Explain it to her once and once again, + And bring me word what impress you may make. + + [HORTENSE goes out. CHAMPAGNY is shown in.] + + Champagny, I have something clear to say + Now, on our process after the divorce. + The question of the Russian Duchess Anne + Was quite inept for further toying with. + The years rush on, and I grow nothing younger. + So I have made up my mind--committed me + To Austria and the Hapsburgs--good or ill! + It was the best, most practicable plunge, + And I have plunged it. + + + CHAMPAGNY + + Austria say you, sire? + I reckoned that but a scurrying dream! + + + NAPOLEON + + Well, so it was. But such a pretty dream + That its own charm transfixed it to a notion, + That showed itself in time a sanity, + Which hardened in its turn to a resolve + As firm as any built by mortal mind.-- + The Emperor's consent must needs be won; + But I foresee no difficulty there. + The young Archduchess is a bright blond thing + By general story; and considering, too, + That her good mother childed seventeen times, + It will be hard if she can not produce + The modest one or two that I require. + + [Enter DE BAUSSET with dispatches.] + + + DE BAUSSET + + The courier, sire, from Petersburg is here, + And brings these letters for your Majesty. + + [Exit DE BAUSSET.] + + + NAPOLEON [after silently reading] + + Ha-ha! It never rains unless it pours: + Now I can have the other readily. + The proverb hits me aptly: “Well they do + Who doff the old love ere they don the new!” + [He glances again over the letter.] + Yes, Caulaincourt now writes he has every hope + Of quick success in settling the alliance! + The Tsar is willing--even anxious for it, + His sister's youth the single obstacle. + The Empress-mother, hitherto against me, + Ambition-fired, verges on suave consent, + Likewise the whole Imperial family. + What irony is all this to me now! + Time lately was when I had leapt thereat. + + + CHAMPAGNY + + You might, of course, sire, give th' Archduchess up, + Seeing she looms uncertainly as yet, + While this does so no longer. + + + NAPOLEON + + No--not I. + My sense of my own dignity forbids + My watching the slow clocks of Muscovy! + Why have they dallied with my tentatives + In pompous silence since the Erfurt day? + --And Austria, too, affords a safer hope. + The young Archduchess is much less a child + Than is the other, who, Caulaincourt says, + Will be incapable of motherhood + For six months yet or more--a grave delay. + + + CHAMPAGNY + + Your Majesty appears to have trimmed your sail + For Austria; and no more is to be said! + + + NAPOLEON + + Except that there's the house of Saxony + If Austria fail.--then, very well, Champagny, + Write you to Caulaincourt accordingly. + + + CHAMPAGNY + + I will, your Majesty. + + [Exit CHAMPAGNY. Re-enter QUEEN HORTENSE.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Ah, dear Hortense, + How is your mother now? + + + HORTENSE + + Calm; quite calm, sire. + I pledge me you need have no further fret + From her entreating tears. She bids me say + That now, as always, she submits herself + With chastened dignity to circumstance, + And will descend, at notice, from your throne-- + As in days earlier she ascended it-- + In questionless obedience to your will. + It was your hand that crowned her; let it be + Likewise your hand that takes her crown away. + As for her children, we shall be but glad + To follow and withdraw ourselves with her, + The tenderest mother children ever knew, + From grandeurs that have brought no happiness! + + + NAPOLEON [taking her hand] + + But, Hortense, dear, it is not to be so! + You must stay with me, as I said before. + Your mother, too, must keep her royal state, + Since no repudiation stains this need. + Equal magnificence will orb her round + In aftertime as now. A palace here, + A palace in the country, wealth to match, + A rank in order next my future wife's, + And conference with me as my truest friend. + Now we will seek her--Eugene, you, and I-- + And make the project clear. + + [Exeunt NAPOLEON and HORTENSE. The scene darkens and shuts.] + + + + SCENE III + + VIENNA. A PRIVATE APARTMENT IN THE IMPERIAL PALACE + + [The EMPEROR FRANCIS discovered, paler than usual, and somewhat + flurried. Enter METTERNICH the Prime Minister--a thin-lipped, + long-nosed man with inquisitive eyes.] + + + FRANCIS + + I have been expecting you some minutes here, + The thing that fronts us brooking brief delay.-- + Well, what say you by now on this strange offer? + + + METTERNICH + + My views remain the same, your Majesty: + The policy of peace that I have upheld, + Both while in Paris and of late time here, + Points to this step as heralding sweet balm + And bandaged veins for our late crimsoned realm. + + + FRANCIS + + Agreed. As monarch I perceive therein + A happy doorway for my purposings. + It seems to guarantee the Hapsburg crown + A quittance of distractions such as those + That leave their shade on many a backward year!-- + There is, forsooth, a suddenness about it, + And it would aid us had we clearly keyed + The cryptologues of which the world has heard + Between Napoleon and the Russian Court-- + Begun there with the selfsame motiving. + + + METTERNICH + + I would not, sire, one second ponder it. + It was an obvious first crude cast-about + In the important reckoning of means + For his great end, a strong monarchic line. + The more advanced the more it profits us; + For sharper, then, the quashing of such views, + And wreck of that conjunction in the aims + Of France and Russia, marked so much of late + As jeopardizing quiet neighbours' thrones. + + + FRANCIS + + If that be so, on the domestic side + There seems no bar. Speaking as father solely, + I see secured to her the proudest fate + That woman can daydream. And I could hope + That private bliss would not be wanting her! + + + METTERNICH + + + A hope well seated, sire. The Emperor, + Imperious and determined in his rule, + Is easy-natured in domestic life, + As my long time in Paris amply proved. + Moreover, the accessories of his glory + Have been, and will be, admirably designed + To fire the fancy of a young princess. + + + FRANCIS + + Thus far you satisfy me.... So, to close, + Or not to close with him, is now the thing. + + + METTERNICH + + Your Majesty commands the issue quite: + The father of his people can alone + In such a case give answer--yes or no. + Vagueness and doubt have ruined Russia's chance; + Let not, then, such be ours. + + + FRANCIS + + + You mean, if I, + You'd answer straight. What would that answer be? + + + METTERNICH + + In state affairs, sire, as in private life, + Times will arise when even the faithfullest squire + Finds him unfit to jog his chieftain's choice, + On whom responsibility must lastly rest. + And such times are pre-eminently, sire, + Those wherein thought alone is not enough + To serve the head as guide. As Emperor, + As father, both, to you, to you in sole + Must appertain the privilege to pronounce + Which track stern duty bids you tread herein. + + + FRANCIS + + Affection is my duty, heart my guide.-- + Without constraint or prompting I shall leave + The big decision in my daughter's hands. + Before my obligations to my people + Must stand her wish. Go, find her, Metternich, + Take her the tidings. She is free with you, + And will speak out. [Looking forth from the terrace.] + She's here at hand, I see: + I'll call her in. Then tell me what's her mind. + + [He beckons from the window, and goes out in another direction.] + + + METTERNICH + + So much for form's sake! Can the river-flower + The current drags, direct its face up-stream? + What she must do she will; nought else at all. + + [Enter through one of the windows MARIA LOUISA in garden-costume, + fresh-coloured, girlish, and smiling. METTERNICH bends.] + + + MARIA LOUISA + + O how, dear Chancellor, you startled me! + Please pardon my so brusquely bursting in. + I saw you not.--Those five poor little birds + That haunt out there beneath the pediment, + Snugly defended from the north-east wind, + Have lately disappeared. I sought a trace + Of scattered feathers, which I dread to find! + + + METTERNICH + + They are gone, I ween, the way of tender flesh + At the assaults of winter, want, and foes. + + + MARIA LOUISA + + It is too melancholy thinking, that! + Don't say it.--But I saw the Emperor here? + Surely he beckoned me? + + + METTERNICH + + Sure, he did, + Your gracious Highness; and he has left me here + To break vast news that will make good his call. + + + MARIA LOUISA + + Then do. I'll listen. News from near or far? + + [She seats herself.] + + + METTERNICH + + From far--though of such distance-dwarfing might + That far may read as near eventually. + But, dear Archduchess, with your kindly leave + I'll speak straight out. The Emperor of the French + Has sent to-day to make, through Schwarzenberg, + A formal offer of his heart and hand, + His honours, dignities, imperial throne, + To you, whom he admires above all those + The world can show elsewhere. + + + MARIA LOUISA [frightened] + + My husband--he? + What, an old man like him! + + + METTERNICH [cautiously] + + He's scarcely old, + Dear lady. True, deeds densely crowd in him; + Turn months to years calendaring his span; + Yet by Time's common clockwork he's but young. + + + MARIA LOUISA + + So wicked, too! + + + METTERNICH [nettled] + + Well-that's a point of view. + + + MARIA LOUISA + + But, Chancellor, think what things I have said to him! + Can women marry where they have taunted so? + + + METTERNICH + + Things? Nothing inexpungeable, I deem, + By time and true good humour. + + + MARIA LOUISA + + O I have! + Horrible things. Why--ay, a hundred times-- + I have said I wished him dead! At that strained hour + When the first voicings of the late war came, + Thrilling out how the French were smitten sore + And Bonaparte retreating, I clapped hands + And answered that I hoped he'd lose his head + As well as lose the battle! + + + METTERNICH + + Words. But words! + Born like the bubbles of a spring that come + Of zest for springing--aimless in their shape. + + + MARIA LOUISA + + It seems indecent, mean, to wed a man + Whom one has held such fierce opinions of! + + + METTERNICH + + My much beloved Archduchess, and revered, + Such things have been! In Spain and Portugal + Like enmities have led to intermarriage. + In England, after warring thirty years + The Red and White Rose wedded. + + + MARIA LOUISA [after a silence] + + Tell me, now, + What does my father wish? + + + METTERNICH + + His wish is yours. + Whatever your Imperial Highness feels + On this grave verdict of your destiny, + Home, title, future sphere, he bids you think + Not of himself, but of your own desire. + + + MARIA LOUISA [reflecting] + + My wish is what my duty bids me wish. + Where a wide Empire's welfare is in poise, + That welfare must be pondered, not my will. + I ask of you, then, Chancellor Metternich, + Straightway to beg the Emperor my father + That he fulfil his duty to the realm, + And quite subordinate thereto all thought + Of how it personally impinge on me. + + [A slight noise as of something falling is heard in the room. They + glance momentarily, and see that a small enamel portrait of MARIE + ANTOINETTE, which was standing on a console-table, has slipped down + on its face.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + What mischief's this? The Will must have its way. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Perhaps Earth shivered at the lady's say? + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + I own hereto. When France and Austria wed + My echoes are men's groans, my dews are red; + So I have reason for a passing dread! + + + METTERNICH + + Right nobly phrased, Archduchess; wisely too. + I will acquaint your sire the Emperor + With these your views. He waits them anxiously. [Going.] + + + MARIA LOUISA + + Let me go first. It much confuses me + To think--But I would fain let thinking be! + + [She goes out trembling. Enter FRANCIS by another door.] + + + METTERNICH + + I was about to seek your Majesty. + The good Archduchess luminously holds + That in this weighty question you regard + The Empire. Best for it is best for her. + + + FRANCIS [moved] + + My daughter's views thereon do not surprise me. + She is too staunch to pit a private whim + Against the fortunes of a commonwealth. + During your speech with her I have taken thought + To shape decision sagely. An assent + Would yield the Empire many years of peace, + And leave me scope to heal those still green sores + Which linger from our late unhappy moils. + Therefore, my daughter not being disinclined, + I know no basis for a negative. + Send, then, a courier prompt to Paris: say + The offer made for the Archduchess' hand + I do accept--with this defined reserve, + That no condition, treaty, bond, attach + To such alliance save the tie itself. + There are some sacrifices whose grave rites + No bargain must contaminate. This is one-- + This personal gift of a beloved child! + + + METTERNICH [leaving] + + I'll see to it this hour, your Majesty, + And cant the words in keeping with your wish. + To himself as he goes.] + Decently done!... He slipped out “sacrifice,” + And scarce could hide his heartache for his girl. + Well ached it!--But when these things have to be + It is as well to breast them stoically. + + [Exit METTERNICH. The clouds draw over.] + + + + SCENE IV + + LONDON. A CLUB IN ST. JAMES'S STREET + + [A winter midnight. Two members are conversing by the fire, and + others are seen lolling in the background, some of them snoring.] + + + FIRST MEMBER + + I learn from a private letter that it was carried out in the + Emperor's Cabinet at the Tuileries--just off the throne-room, where + they all assembled in the evening,--Boney and the wife of his bosom + [In pure white muslin from head to foot, they say], the Kings and + Queens of Holland, Whestphalia, and Naples, the Princess Pauline, + and one or two more; the officials present being Cambaceres the + Chancellor, and Count Regnaud. Quite a small party. It was over + in minutes--short and sweet, like a donkey's gallop. + + + SECOND MEMBER + + Anything but sweet for her. How did she stand it? + + + FIRST MEMBER + + Serenely, I believe, while the Emperor was making his speech + renouncing her; but when it came to her turn to say she renounced + him she began sobbing mightily, and was so completely choked up that + she couldn't get out a word. + + + SECOND MEMBER + + Poor old dame! I pity her, by God; though she had a rattling good + spell while it lasted. + + + FIRST MEMBER + + They say he was a bit upset, too, at sight of her tears But I + dare vow that was put on. Fancy Boney caring a curse what a woman + feels. She had learnt her speech by heart, but that did not help + her: Regnaud had to finish it for her, the ditch that overturned + her being where she was made to say that she no longer preserved + any hope of having children, and that she was pleased to show her + attachment by enabling him to obtain them by another woman. She + was led off fainting. A turning of the tables, considering how + madly jealous she used to make him by her flirtations! + + [Enter a third member.] + + + SECOND MEMBER + + How is the debate going? Still braying the Government in a mortar? + + + THIRD MEMBER + + They are. Though one thing every body admits: young Peel has + made a wonderful first speech in seconding the address. There + has been nothing like it since Pitt. He spoke rousingly of + Austria's misfortunes--went on about Spain, of course, showing + that we must still go on supporting her, winding up with a + brilliant peroration about--what were the words--“the fiery eyes + of the British soldier!”--Oh, well: it was all learnt before-hand, + of course. + + + SECOND MEMBER + + I wish I had gone down. But the wind soon blew the other way. + + + THIRD MEMBER + + Then Gower rapped out his amendment. That was good, too, by God. + + + SECOND MEMBER + + Well, the war must go on. And that being the general conviction + this censure and that censure are only so many blank cartridges. + + + THIRD MEMBER + + Blank? Damn me, were they! Gower's was a palpable hit when he said + that Parliament had placed unheard-of resources in the hands of the + Ministers last year, to make this year's results to the country + worse than if they had been afforded no resources at all. Every + single enterprise of theirs had been a beggarly failure. + + + SECOND MEMBER + + Anybody could have said it, come to that. + + + THIRD MEMBER + + Yes, because it is so true. However, when he began to lay on with + such rhetoric as “the treasures of the nation lavished in wasteful + thoughtlessness,”--“thousands of our troops sacrificed wantonly in + pestilential swamps of Walcheren,” and gave the details we know so + well, Ministers wriggled a good one, though 'twas no news to 'em. + Castlereagh kept on starting forward as if he were going to jump up + and interrupt, taking the strictures entirely as a personal affront. + + [Enter a fourth member.] + + + SEVERAL MEMBERS + + Who's speaking now? + + + FOURTH MEMBER + + I don't know. I have heard nobody later than Ward. + + + SECOND MEMBER + + The fact is that, as Whitbread said to me to-day, the materials for + condemnation are so prodigious that we can scarce marshal them into + argument. We are just able to pour 'em out one upon t'other. + + + THIRD MEMBER + + Ward said, with the blandest air in the world: “Censure? Do his + Majesty's Ministers expect censure? Not a bit. They are going + about asking in tremulous tones if anybody has heard when their + impeachment is going to begin.” + + + SEVERAL MEMBERS + + Haw--haw--haw! + + + THIRD MEMBER + + Then he made another point. After enumerating our frightful + failures--Spain, Walcheren, and the rest--he said: “But Ministers + have not failed in everything. No; in one thing they have been + strikingly successful. They have been successful in their attack + upon Copenhagen--because it was directed against an ally!” Mighty + fine, wasn't it? + + + SECOND MEMBER + + How did Castlereagh stomach that? + + + THIRD MEMBER + + He replied then. Donning his air of injured innocence he proved the + honesty of his intentions--no doubt truly enough. But when he came + to Walcheren nothing could be done. The case was hopeless, and he + knew it, and foundered. However, at the division, when he saw what + a majority was going out on his side he was as frisky as a child. + Canning's speech was grave, with bits of shiny ornament stuck on-- + like the brass nails on a coffin, Sheridan says. + + [Fifth and sixth members stagger in, arm-and-arm.] + + + FIFTH MEMBER + + The 'vision is---'jority of ninety-six againsht--Gov'ment--I mean-- + againsht us. Which is it--hey? [To his companion.] + + + SIXTH MEMBER + + Damn majority of--damn ninety-six--against damn amendment! [They + sink down on a sofa.] + + + SECOND MEMBER + + Gad, I didn't expect the figure would have been quite so high! + + + THIRD MEMBER + + The one conviction is that the war in the Peninsula is to go on, and + as we are all agreed upon that, what the hell does it matter what + their majority was? + + [Enter SHERIDAN. They all look inquiringly.] + + + SHERIDAN + + Have ye heard the latest? + + + SECOND MEMBER + + Ninety-six against us. + + + SHERIDAN + + O no-that's ancient history. I'd forgot it. + + + THIRD MEMBER + + A revolution, because Ministers are not impeached and hanged? + + + SHERIDAN + + That's in contemplation, when we've got their confessions. But what + I meant was from over the water--it is a deuced sight more serious + to us than a debate and division that are only like the Liturgy on + a Sunday--known beforehand to all the congregation. Why, Bonaparte + is going to marry Austria forthwith--the Emperor's daughter Maria + Louisa. + + + THIRD MEMBER + + The Lord look down! Our late respected crony of Austria! Why, in + this very night's debate they have been talking about the laudable + principles we have been acting upon in affording assistance to the + Emperor Francis in his struggle against the violence and ambition + of France! + + + SECOND MEMBER + + Boney safe on that side, what may not befall! + + + THIRD MEMBER + + We had better make it up with him, and shake hands all round. + + + SECOND MEMBER + + Shake heads seems most natural in the case. O House of Hapsburg, + how hast thou fallen! + + [Enter WHITBREAD, LORD HUTCHINSON, LORD GEORGE CAVENDISH, GEORGE + PONSONBY, WINDHAM, LORD GREY, BARING, ELLIOT, and other members, + some drunk. The conversation becomes animated and noisy; several + move off to the card-room, and the scene closes.] + + + + SCENE V + + THE OLD WEST HIGHWAY OUT OF VIENNA + + [The spot is where the road passes under the slopes of the Wiener + Wald, with its beautiful forest scenery.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + A procession of enormous length, composed of eighty carriages-- + many of them drawn by six horses and one by eight--and escorted + by detachments of cuirassiers, yeomanry, and other cavalry, is + quickening its speed along the highway from the city. + + The six-horse carriages contain a multitude of Court officials, + ladies of the Court, and other Austrian nobility. The eight-horse + coach contains a rosy, blue-eyed girl of eighteen, with full red + lips, round figure, and pale auburn hair. She is MARIA LOUISA, and + her eyes are red from recent weeping. The COUNTESS DE LAZANSKY, + Grand Mistress of the Household, in the carriage with her, and the + other ladies of the Palace behind, have a pale, proud, yet resigned + look, as if conscious that upon their sex had been laid the burden + of paying for the peace with France. They have been played out of + Vienna with French marches, and the trifling incident has helped on + their sadness. + + The observer's vision being still bent on the train of vehicles and + cavalry, the point of sight is withdrawn high into the air, till the + huge procession on the brown road looks no more than a file of ants + crawling along a strip of garden-matting. The spacious terrestrial + outlook now gained shows this to be the great road across Europe from + Vienna to Munich, and from Munich westerly to France. + + The puny concatenation of specks being exclusively watched, the + surface of the earth seems to move along in an opposite direction, + and in infinite variety of hill, dale, woodland, and champaign. + Bridges are crossed, ascents are climbed, plains are galloped over, + and towns are reached, among them Saint Polten, where night falls. + + Morning shines, and the royal crawl is resumed, and continued through + Linz, where the Danube is reapproached, and the girl looks pleased + to see her own dear Donau still. Presently the tower of Brannau + appears, where the animated dots pause for formalities, this being + the frontier; and MARIA LOUISA becomes MARIE LOUISE and a Frenchwoman, + in the charge of French officials. + + After many breaks and halts, during which heavy rains spread their + gauzes over the scene, the roofs and houses of Munich disclose + themselves, suggesting the tesserae of an irregular mosaic. A long + stop is made here. + + The tedious advance continues. Vine-circled Stuttgart, flat + Carlsruhe, the winding Rhine, storky Strassburg, pass in panorama + beneath us as the procession is followed. With Nancy and Bar-le- + Duc sliding along, the scenes begin to assume a French character, + and soon we perceive Chalons and ancient Rheims. The last day of + the journey has dawned. Our vision flits ahead of the cortege to + Courcelles, a little place which must be passed through before + Soissons is reached. Here the point of sight descends to earth, + and the Dumb Show ends. + + + + SCENE VI + + COURCELLES + + [It is now seen to be a quiet roadside village, with a humble + church in its midst, opposite to which stands an inn, the highway + passing between them. Rain is still falling heavily. Not a soul + is visible anywhere. + + Enter from the west a plain, lonely carriage, traveling in a + direction to meet the file of coaches that we have watched. It + stops near the inn, and two men muffled in cloaks alight by the + door away from the hostel and towards the church, as if they + wished to avoid observation. Their faces are those of NAPOLEON + and MURAT, his brother-in-law. Crossing the road through the mud + and rain they stand in the church porch, and watch the descending + drifts.] + + + NAPOLEON [stamping an impatient tattoo] + + One gets more chilly in a wet March than in a dry, however cold, the + devil if he don't! What time do you make it now? That clock doesn't + go. + + + MURAT [drily, looking at his watch] + + Yes, it does; and it is right. If clocks were to go as fast as your + wishes just now it would be awkward for the rest of the world. + + + NAPOLEON [chuckling good-humouredly] + + How we have dished the Soissons folk, with their pavilions, and + purple and gold hangings for bride and bridegroom to meet in, and + stately ceremonial to match, and their thousands looking on! Here + we are where there's nobody. Ha, ha! + + + MURAT + + But why should they be dished, sire? The pavilions and ceremonies + were by your own orders. + + + NAPOLEON + + Well, as the time got nearer I couldn't stand the idea of dawdling + about there. + + + MURAT + + The Soissons people will be in a deuce of a taking at being made + such fools of! + + + NAPOLEON + + + So let 'em. I'll make it up with them somehow.--She can't be far + off now, if we have timed her rightly. [He peers out into the rain + and listens.] + + + MURAT + + I don't quite see how you are going to manage when she does come. + Do we go before her toward Soissons when you have greeted her here, + or follow in her rear? Or what do we do? + + + NAPOLEON + + Heavens, I know no more than you! Trust to the moment and see what + happens. [A silence.] Hark--here she comes! Good little girl; up + to time! + + [The distant squashing in the mud of a multitude of hoofs and + wheels is succeeded by the appearance of outriders and carriages, + horses and horsemen, splashed with sample clays of the districts + traversed. The vehicles slow down to the inn. NAPOLEON'S face + fires up, and, followed by MURAT, he rushes into the rain towards + the coach that is drawn by eight horses, containing the blue-eyed + girl. He holds off his hat at the carriage-window.] + + + MARIE LOUISE [shrinking back inside] + + Ah, Heaven! Two highwaymen are upon us! + + + THE EQUERRY D'AUDENARDE [simultaneously] + + The Emperor! + + [The steps of the coach are hastily lowered, NAPOLEON, dripping, + jumps in and embraces her. The startled ARCHDUCHESS, with much + blushing and confusion recognizes him.] + + + MARIE LOUISE [tremulously, as she recovers herself] + + You are so much--better looking than your portraits--that I hardly + knew you! I expected you at Soissons. We are not at Soissons yet? + + + NAPOLEON + + No, my dearest spouse, but we are together! [Calling out to the + equerry.] Drive through Soissons--pass the pavilion of reception + without stopping, and don't halt till we reach Compiegne. + + [He sits down in the coach and is shut in, MURAT laughing silently + at the scene. Exeunt carriages and riders toward Soissons.] + + + CHORUS OF THE IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music] + + First 'twas a finished coquette, + And now it's a raw ingenue.-- + Blond instead of brunette, + An old wife doffed for a new. + She'll bring him a baby, + As quickly as maybe, + And that's what he wants her to do, + Hoo-hoo! + And that's what he wants her to do! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + What lewdness lip those wry-formed phantoms there! + + + IRONIC SPIRITS + + Nay, Showman Years! With holy reverent air + We hymn the nuptials of the Imperial pair. + + [The scene thickens to mist and obscures the scene.] + + + + SCENE VII + + PETERSBURG. THE PALACE OF THE EMPRESS-MOTHER + + [One of the private apartments is disclosed, in which the Empress- + mother and Alexander are seated.] + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + So one of Austrian blood his pomp selects + To be his bride and bulwark--not our own. + Thus are you coolly shelved! + + + ALEXANDER + + Me, mother dear? + You, faith, if I may say it dutifully! + Had all been left to me, some time ere now + He would have wedded Kate. + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + How so, my son? + Catharine was plighted, and it could not be. + + + ALEXANDER + + Rather you swiftly pledged and married her, + To let Napoleon have no chance that way. + But Anne remained. + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + How Anne?--so young a girl! + Sane Nature would have cried indecency + At such a troth. + + + ALEXANDER + + Time would have tinkered that, + And he was well-disposed to wait awhile; + But the one test he had no temper for + Was the apparent slight of unresponse + Accorded his impatient overtures + By our suspensive poise of policy. + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + A backward answer is our country's card-- + The special style and mode of Muscovy. + We have grown great upon it, my dear son, + And may such practice rule our centuries through! + The necks of those who rate themselves our peers + Are cured of stiffness by its potency. + + + ALEXANDER + + The principle in this case, anyhow, + Is shattered by the facts: since none can doubt + Your policy was counted an affront, + And drove my long ally to Austria's arms, + With what result to us must yet be seen! + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + May Austria win much joy of the alliance! + Marrying Napoleon is a midnight leap + For any Court in Europe, credit me, + If ever such there were! What he may carve + Upon the coming years, what murderous bolt + Hurl at the rocking Constitutions round, + On what dark planet he may land himself + In his career through space, no sage can say. + + + ALEXANDER + + Well--possibly!... And maybe all is best + That he engrafts his lineage not on us.-- + But, honestly, Napoleon none the less + Has been my friend, and I regret the dream + And fleeting fancy of a closer tie! + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + Ay; your regrets are sentimental ever. + That he'll be writ no son-in-law of mine + Is no regret to me! But an affront + There is, no less, in his evasion on't, + Wherein the bourgeois quality of him + Veraciously peeps out. I would be sworn + He set his minions parleying with the twain-- + Yourself and Francis--simultaneously, + Else no betrothal could have speeded so! + + + ALEXANDER + + Despite the hazard of offence to one? + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + More than the hazard; the necessity. + + + ALEXANDER + + There's no offence to me. + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + There should be, then. + I am a Romanoff by marriage merely, + But I do feel a rare belittlement + And loud laconic brow-beating herein! + + + ALEXANDER + + No, mother, no! I am the Tsar--not you, + And I am only piqued in moderateness. + Marriage with France was near my heart--I own it-- + What then? It has been otherwise ordained. + + [A silence.] + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + Here comes dear Anne Speak not of it before her. + + [Enter the GRAND-DUCHESS, a girl of sixteen.] + + + ANNE + + Alas! the news is that poor Prussia's queen, + Spirited Queen Louisa, once so fair, + Is slowly dying, mother! Did you know? + + + ALEXANDER [betraying emotion] + + Ah!--such I dreaded from the earlier hints. + Poor soul--her heart was slain some time ago. + + + ANNE + + What do you mean by that, my brother dear? + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + He means, my child, that he as usual spends + Much sentiment upon the foreign fair, + And hence leaves little for his folk at home. + + + ALEXANDER + + I mean, Anne, that her country's overthrow + Let death into her heart. The Tilsit days + Taught me to know her well, and honour her. + She was a lovely woman even then!... + Strangely, the present English Prince of Wales + Was wished to husband her. Had wishes won, + They might have varied Europe's history. + + + ANNE + + Napoleon, I have heard, admired her once; + How he must grieve that soon she'll be no more! + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + Napoleon and your brother loved her both. + + [Alexander shows embarrassment.] + + But whatsoever grief be Alexander's, + His will be none who feels but for himself. + + + ANNE + + O mother, how can you mistake him so! + He worships her who is to be his wife, + The fair Archduchess Marie. + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + Simple child, + As yet he has never seen her, or but barely. + That is a tactic suit, with love to match! + + + ALEXANDER [with vainly veiled tenderness] + + High-souled Louisa;--when shall I forget + Those Tilsit gatherings in the long-sunned June! + Napoleon's gallantries deceived her quite, + Who fondly felt her pleas for Magdeburg + Had won him to its cause; the while, alas! + His cynic sense but posed in cruel play! + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + Bitterly mourned she her civilities + When time unlocked the truth, that she had choked + Her indignation at his former slights + And slanderous sayings for a baseless hope, + And wrought no tittle for her country's gain. + I marvel why you mourn a frustrate tie + With one whose wiles could wring a woman so! + + + ALEXANDER [uneasily] + + I marvel also, when I think of it! + + + EMPRESS-MOTHER + + Don't listen to us longer, dearest Anne. + + [Exit Anne.] + + --You will uphold my judging by and by, + That as a suitor we are quit of him, + And that blind Austria will rue the hour + Wherein she plucks for him her fairest flower! + + [The scene shuts.] + + + + SCENE VIII + + PARIS. THE GRAND GALLERY OF THE LOUVRE AND THE SALON-CARRE ADJOINING + + [The view is up the middle of the Gallery, which is now a spectacle + of much magnificence. Backed by the large paintings on the walls + are double rows on each side of brightly dressed ladies, the pick + of Imperial society, to the number of four thousand, one thousand + in each row; and behind these standing up are two rows on each side + of men of privilege and fashion. Officers of the Imperial Guard + are dotted about as marshals. + + Temporary barriers form a wide passage up the midst, leading to the + Salon-Carre, which is seen through the opening to be fitted up as + a chapel, with a gorgeous altar, tall candles, and cross. In front + of the altar is a platform with a canopy over it. On the platform + are two gilt chairs and a prie-dieu. + + The expectant assembly does not continuously remain in the seats, + but promenades and talks, the voices at times rising to a din amid + the strains of the orchestra, conducted by the EMPEROR'S Director + of Music. Refreshments in profusion are handed round, and the + extemporized cathedral resolves itself into a gigantic cafe of + persons of distinction under the Empire.] + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + All day have they been waiting for their galanty-show, and now the + hour of performance is on the strike. It may be seasonable to muse + on the sixteenth Louis and the bride's great-aunt, as the nearing + procession is, I see, appositely crossing the track of the tumbril + which was the last coach of that respected lady.... It is now + passing over the site of the scaffold on which she lost her head. +... Now it will soon be here. + + [Suddenly the heralds enter the Gallery at the end towards the + Tuileries, the spectators ranging themselves in their places. + In a moment the wedding procession of the EMPEROR and EMPRESS + becomes visible. The civil marriage having already been performed, + Napoleon and Marie Louise advance together along the vacant pathway + towards the Salon-Carre, followed by the long suite of illustrious + personages, and acclamations burst from all parts of the Grand + Gallery. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Whose are those forms that pair in pompous train + Behind the hand-in-hand half-wedded ones, + With faces speaking sense of an adventure + Which may close well, or not so? + + + RECORDING ANGEL [reciting] + + First there walks + The Emperor's brother Louis, Holland's King; + Then Jerome of Westphalia with his spouse; + The mother-queen, and Julie Queen of Spain, + The Prince Borghese and the Princess Pauline, + Beauharnais the Vice-King of Italy, + And Murat King of Naples, with their Queens; + Baden's Grand-Duke, Arch-Chancellor Cambaceres, + Berthier, Lebrun, and, not least, Talleyrand. + Then the Grand Marshal and the Chamberlain, + The Lords-in-Waiting, the Grand Equerry, + With waiting-ladies, women of the chamber, + An others called by office, rank, or fame. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + New, many, to Imperial dignities; + Which, won by character and quality + In those who now enjoy them, will become + The birthright of their sons in aftertime. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + It fits thee not to augur, quick-eared Shade. + Ephemeral at the best all honours be, + These even more ephemeral than their kind, + So random-fashioned, swift, perturbable! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Napoleon looks content--nay, shines with joy. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Yet see it pass, as by a conjuror's wand. + + [Thereupon Napoleon's face blackens as if the shadow of a winter + night had fallen upon it. Resentful and threatening, he stops the + procession and looks up and down the benches.] + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + This is sound artistry of the Immanent Will: it relieves the monotony + of so much good-humour. + + + NAPOLEON [to the Chapel-master] + + Where are the Cardinals? And why not here? [He speaks so loud that + he is heard throughout the Gallery.] + + + ABBE DE PRADT [trembling] + + Many are present here, your Majesty; + But some are feebled by infirmities + Too common to their age, and cannot come. + + + NAPOLEON + + Tell me no nonsense! Half absent themselves + Because they WILL not come. The factious fools! + Well, be it so. But they shall flinch for it! + + [MARIE LOUISE looks frightened. The procession moves on.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + I seem to see the thin and headless ghost + Of the yet earlier Austrian, here, too, queen, + Walking beside the bride, with frail attempts + To pluck her by the arm! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Nay, think not so. + No trump unseals earth's sepulchre's to-day: + We are the only phantoms now abroad + On this mud-moulded ball! Through sixteen years + She has decayed in a back-garden yonder, + Dust all the showance time retains of her, + Senseless of hustlings in her former house, + Lost to all count of crowns and bridalry-- + Even of her Austrian blood. No: what thou seest + Springs of the quavering fancy, stirred to dreams + By yon tart phantom's phrase. + + + MARIE LOUISE [sadly to Napoleon] + + I know not why, + I love not this day's doings half so well + As our quaint meeting-time at Compiegne. + A clammy air creeps round me, as from vaults + Peopled with looming spectres, chilling me + And angering you withal! + + + NAPOLEON + + O, it is nought + To trouble you: merely, my cherished one, + Those devils of Italian Cardinals!-- + Now I'll be bright as ever--you must, too. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + I'll try. + + [Reaching the entrance to the Salon-Carre amid strains of music + the EMPEROR and EMPRESS are received and incensed by the CARDINAL + GRAND ALMONERS. They take their seats under the canopy, and the + train of notabilities seat themselves further back, the persons- + in-waiting stopping behind the Imperial chairs. + + The ceremony of the religious marriage now begins. The choir + intones a hymn, the EMPEROR and EMPRESS go to the altar, remove + their gloves, and make their vows.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + The English Church should return thanks for this wedding, seeing + how it will purge of coarseness the picture-sheets of that artistic + nation, which will hardly be able to caricature the new wife as it + did poor plebeian Josephine. Such starched and ironed monarchists + cannot sneer at a woman of such a divinely dry and crusted line like + the Hapsburgs! + + [Mass is next celebrated, after which the TE DEUM is chanted in + harmonies that whirl round the walls of the Salon-Carre and quiver + down the long Gallery. The procession then re-forms and returns, + amid the flutterings and applause of the dense assembly. But + Napoleon's face has not lost the sombre expression which settled + on it. The pair and their train pass out by the west door, and + the congregation disperses in the other direction, the cloud- + curtain closing over the scene as they disappear. + + + + +ACT SIXTH + + + SCENE I + + THE LINES OF TORRES VEDRAS + + [A bird's-eye perspective is revealed of the peninsular tract of + Portuguese territory lying between the shining pool of the Tagus on + the east, and the white-frilled Atlantic lifting rhythmically on + the west. As thus beheld the tract features itself somewhat like a + late-Gothic shield, the upper edge from the dexter to the sinister + chief being the lines of Torres Vedras, stretching across from the + mouth of the Zezambre on the left to Alhandra on the right, and + the south or base point being Fort S. Julian. The roofs of Lisbon + appear at the sinister base, and in a corresponding spot on the + opposite side Cape Roca. + + It is perceived in a moment that the northern verge of this nearly + coast-hemmed region is the only one through which access can be + gained to it by land, and a close scrutiny of the boundary there + reveals that means are being adopted to effectually prevent such + access. + + From east to west along it runs a chain of defences, dotted at + intervals by dozens of circular and square redoubts, either made + or in the making, two of the latter being of enormous size. + Between these stretch unclimbable escarpments, stone walls, and + other breastworks, and in front of all a double row of abatis, + formed of the limbs of trees. + + Within the outer line of defence is a second, constructed on the + same shield-shaped tract of country; and is not more than a twelfth + of the length of the others. It is a continuous entrenchment of + ditches and ramparts, and its object--that of covering a forced + embarkation--is rendered apparent by some rocking English + transports off the shore hard by.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + Innumerable human figures are busying themselves like cheese-mites + all along the northernmost frontage, undercutting easy slopes into + steep ones, digging ditches, piling stones, felling trees, dragging + them, and interlacing them along the front as required. + + On the second breastwork, which is completed, only a few figures move. + + On the third breastwork, which is fully matured and equipped, minute + red sentinels creep backwards and forwards noiselessly. + + As time passes three reddish-grey streams of marching men loom out + to the north, advancing southward along three roads towards three + diverse points in the first defence. These form the English army, + entering the lines for shelter. Looked down upon, their motion + seems peristaltic and vermicular, like that of three caterpillars. + The division on the left is under Picton, in the centre under Leith + and Cole, and on the extreme right, by Alhandra, under Hill. Beside + one of the roads two or three of the soldiers are dangling from a + tree by the neck, probably for plundering. + + The Dumb Show ends, and the point of view sinks to the earth. + + + + SCENE II + + THE SAME. OUTSIDE THE LINES + + [The winter day has gloomed to a stormful evening, and the road + outside the first line of defence forms the foreground of the stage. + + Enter in the dusk from the hills to the north of the entrenchment, + near Calandrix, a group of horsemen, which includes MASSENA in + command of the French forces, FOY, LOISON, and other officers of + his staff. + + They ride forward in the twilight and tempest, and reconnoitre, + till they see against the sky the ramparts blocking the road they + pursue. They halt silently. MASSENA, puzzled, endeavours with his + glass to make out the obstacle.] + + + MASSENA + + Something stands here to peril our advance, + Or even prevent it! + + + FOY + + These are the English lines-- + Their outer horns and tusks--whereof I spoke, + Constructed by Lord Wellington of late + To keep his foothold firm in Portugal. + + + MASSENA + + Thrusts he his burly, bossed disfigurements + So far to north as this? I had pictured me + The lay much nearer Lisbon. Little strange + Lord Wellington rode placid at Busaco + With this behind his back! Well, it is hard + But that we turn them somewhere, I assume? + They scarce can close up every southward gap + Between the Tagus and the Atlantic Sea. + + + FOY + + I hold they can, and do; although, no doubt, + By searching we shall spy some raggedness + Which customed skill may force. + + + MASSENA + + Plain 'tis, no less, + We may heap corpses vainly hereabout, + And crack good bones in waste. By human power + This passes mounting! What say you's behind? + + + LOISON + + Another line exactly like the first, + But more matured. Behind its back a third. + + + MASSENA + + How long have these prim ponderosities + Been rearing up their foreheads to the moon? + + + LOISON + + Some months in all. I know not quite how long. + They are Lord Wellington's select device, + And, like him, heavy, slow, laborious, sure. + + + MASSENA + + May he enjoy their sureness. He deserves to. + I had no inkling of such barriers here. + A good road runs along their front, it seems, + Which offers us advantage.... What a night! + + [The tempest cries dismally about the earthworks above them, as + the reconnoitrers linger in the slight shelter the lower ground + affords. They are about to turn back. + + Enter from the cross-road to the right JUNOT and some more + officers. They come up at a signal that the others are those + they lately parted from.] + + + JUNOT + + We have ridden along as far as Calandrix, + Favoured therein by this disordered night, + Which tongues its language to the disguise of ours; + And find amid the vale an open route + That, well manoeuvred, may be practicable. + + + MASSENA + + I'll look now at it, while the weather aids. + If it may serve our end when all's prepared + So good. If not, some other to the west. + + [Exeunt MASSENA, JUNOT, LOISON, FOY, and the rest by the paved + crossway to the right. + + The wind continues to prevail as the spot is left desolate, the + darkness increases, rain descends more heavily, and the scene is + blotted out.] + + + + SCENE III + + PARIS. THE TUILERIES + + [The anteroom to the EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE'S bed-chamber, in which + are discovered NAPOLEON in his dressing-gown, the DUCHESS OF + MONTEBELLO, and other ladies-in-waiting. CORVISART the first + physician, and the second physician BOURDIER. + + The time is before dawn. The EMPEROR walks up and down, throws + himself on a sofa, or stands at the window. A cry of anguish comes + occasionally from within. + + NAPOLEON opens the door and speaks into the bed-chamber.] + + + NAPOLEON + + How now, Dubois? + + + VOICE OF DUBOIS THE ACCOUCHEUR [nervously] + + Less well, sire, than I hoped; + I fear no skill can save them both. + + + NAPOLEON [agitated] + + Good god! + + [Exit CORVISART into the bed-room. Enter DUBOIS.] + + + DUBOIS [with hesitation] + + Which life is to be saved? The Empress, sire, + Lies in great jeopardy. I have not known + In my long years of many-featured practice + An instance in a thousand fall out so. + + + NAPOLEON + + Then save the mother, pray! Think but of her; + It is her privilege, and my command.-- + Don't lose you head, Dubois, at this tight time: + Your furthest skill can work but what it may. + Fancy that you are merely standing by + A shop-wife's couch, say, in the Rue Saint Denis; + Show the aplomb and phlegm that you would show + Did such a bed receive your ministry. + + [Exit DUBOIS.] + + + VOICE OF MARIE LOUISE [within] + + O pray, pray don't! Those ugly things terrify me! Why should I be + tortured even if I am but a means to an end! Let me die! It was + cruel of him to bring this upon me! + + [Exit NAPOLEON impatiently to the bed-room.] + + + VOICE OF MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU [within] + + Keep up your spirits, madame! I have been through it myself and I + assure you there is no danger to you. It is going on all right, and + I am holding you. + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON [within] + + Heaven above! Why did you not deep those cursed sugar-tongs out of + her sight? How is she going to get through it if you frighten her + like this? + + + VOICE OF DUBOIS [within] + + If you will pardon me, your Majesty, + I must implore you not to interfere! + I'll not be scapegoat for the consequence + If, sire, you do! Better for her sake far + Would you withdraw. The sight of your concern + But agitates and weakens her endurance. + I will inform you all, and call you back + If things should worsen here. + + [Re-enter NAPOLEON from the bed-chamber. He half shuts the door, + and remains close to it listening, pale and nervous.] + + + BOURDIER + + I ask you, sire, + To harass yourself less with this event, + Which may amend anon: I much regret + The honoured mother of your Majesty, + And sister too, should both have left ere now, + Whose solace would have bridged these anxious hours. + + + NAPOLEON [absently] + + As we were not expecting it so soon + I begged they would sit up no longer here.... + She ought to get along; she has help enough + With that half-dozen of them at hand within-- + Skilled Madame Blaise the nurse, and two besides, + Madame de Montesquiou and Madame Ballant--- + + + DUBOIS [speaking through the doorway] + + Past is the question, sire, of which to save! + The child is dead; the while her Majesty + Is getting through it well. + + + NAPOLEON + + Praise Heaven for that! + I'll not grieve overmuch about the child.... + Never shall She go through this strain again + To lay down a dynastic line for me. + + + DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO [aside to the second lady] + + He only says that now. In cold blood it would be far otherwise. + That's how men are. + + + VOICE OF MADAME BLAISE [within] + + Doctor, the child's alive! [The cry of an infant is heard.] + + + VOICE OF DUBOIS [calling from within] + + Sire, both are saved. + + [NAPOLEON rushes into the chamber, and is heard kissing MARIE + LOUISE.] + + + VOICE OF MADAME BLAISE [within] + + A vigorous boy, your Imperial Majesty. The brandy and hot napkins + brought him to. + + + DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO + + It is as I expected. A healthy young woman of her build had every + chance of doing well, despite the doctors. + + [An interval.] + + + NAPOLEON [re-entering radiantly] + + We have achieved a healthy heir, good dames, + And in the feat the Empress was most brave, + Although she suffered much--so much, indeed, + That I would sooner father no more sons + Than have so fair a fruit-tree undergo + Another wrenching of such magnitude. + + [He walks to the window, pulls aside the curtains, and looks out. + It is a joyful spring morning. The Tuileries' gardens are thronged + with an immense crowd, kept at a little distance off the Palace by + a cord. The windows of the neighbouring houses are full of gazers, + and the streets are thronged with halting carriages, their inmates + awaiting the event.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS [whispering to Napoleon] + + At this high hour there broods a woman nigh, + Ay, here in Paris, with her child and thine, + Who might have played this part with truer eye + To thee and to thy contemplated line! + + + NAPOLEON [soliloquizing] + + Strange that just now there flashes on my soul + That little one I loved in Warsaw days, + Marie Walewska, and my boy by her!-- + She was shown faithless by a foul intrigue + Till fate sealed up her opportunity.... + But what's one woman's fortune more or less + Beside the schemes of kings!--Ah, there's the new! + + [A gun is heard from the Invalides.] + + + CROWD [excitedly] + + One! + + [Another report of the gun, and another, succeed.] + + Two! Three! Four! + + [The firing and counting proceed to twenty-one, when there is great + suspense. The gun fires again, and the excitement is doubled.] + + Twenty-two! A boy! + + [The remainder of the counting up to a hundred-and-one is drowned + in the huzzas. Bells begin ringing, and from the Champ de Mars a + balloon ascends, from which the tidings are scattered in hand-bills + as it floats away from France. + + Enter the PRESIDENT OF THE SENATE, CAMBACERES, BERTHIER, LEBRUN, + and other officers of state. NAPOLEON turns from the window.] + + + CAMBACERES + + Unstinted gratulations and goodwill + We bring to your Imperial Majesty, + While still resounds the superflux of joy + With which your people welcome this live star + Upon the horizon of history! + + + PRESIDENT OF THE SENATE + + All blessings at their goodliest will grace + The advent of this New Messiah, sire, + Of fairer prospects than the former one, + Whose coming at so apt an hour endues + The widening glory of your high exploits + With permanence, and flings the dimness far + That cloaked the future of our chronicle! + + + NAPOLEON + + My thanks; though, gentlemen, upon my soul + You might have drawn the line at the Messiah. + But I excuse you.--Yes, the boy has come; + He took some coaxing, but he's here at last.-- + And what news brings the morning from without? + I know of none but this the Empress now + Trumps to the world from the adjoining room. + + + PRESIDENT OF THE SENATE + + Nothing in Europe, sire, that can compare + In magnitude therewith to more effect + Than with an eagle some frail finch or wren. + To wit: the ban on English trade prevailing, + Subjects our merchant-houses to such strain + That many of the best see bankruptcy + Like a grim ghost ahead. Next week, they say + In secret here, six of the largest close. + + + NAPOLEON + + It shall not be! Our burst of natal joy + Must not be sullied by so mean a thing: + Aid shall be rendered. Much as we may suffer, + England must suffer more, and I am content. + What has come in from Spain and Portugal? + + + BERTHIER + + Vaguely-voiced rumours, sire, but nothing more, + Which travel countries quick as earthquake thrills, + No mortal knowing how. + + + NAPOLEON + + Of Massena? + + + BERTHIER + + Yea. He retreats for prudence' sake, it seems, + Before Lord Wellington. Dispatches soon + Must reach your Majesty, explaining all. + + + NAPOLEON + + Ever retreating! Why declines he so + From all his olden prowess? Why, again, + Did he give battle at Busaco lately, + When Lisbon could be marched on without strain? + Why has he dallied by the Tagus bank + And shunned the obvious course? I gave him Ney, + Soult, and Junot, and eighty thousand men, + And he does nothing. Really it might seem + As though we meant to let this Wellington + Be even with us there! + + + BERTHIER + + His mighty forts + At Torres Vedras hamper Massena, + And quite preclude advance. + + + NAPOLEON + + O well--no matter: + Why should I linger on these haps of war + Now that I have a son! + + [Exeunt NAPOLEON by one door and by another the PRESIDENT OF THE + SENATE, CAMBACERES, LEBRUN, BERTHIER, and officials.] + + + CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music] + + The Will Itself is slave to him, + And holds it blissful to obey!-- + He said, “Go to; it is my whim + + “To bed a bride without delay, + Who shall unite my dull new name + With one that shone in Caesar's day. + + “She must conceive--you hear my claim?-- + And bear a son--no daughter, mind-- + Who shall hand on my form and fame + + “To future times as I have designed; + And at the birth throughout the land + Must cannon roar and alp-horns wind!” + + The Will grew conscious at command, + And ordered issue as he planned. + + [The interior of the Palace is veiled.] + + + + SCENE IV + + SPAIN. ALBUERA + + [The dawn of a mid-May day in the same spring shows the village + of Albuera with the country around it, as viewed from the summit + of a line of hills on which the English and their allies are ranged + under Beresford. The landscape swept by the eye includes to the + right foreground a hill loftier than any, and somewhat detached + from the range. The green slopes behind and around this hill are + untrodden--though in a few hours to be the sanguinary scene of the + most murderous struggle of the whole war. + + The village itself lies to the left foreground, with its stream + flowing behind it in the distance on the right. A creeping brook + at the bottom of the heights held by the English joins the stream + by the village. Behind the stream some of the French forces are + visible. Away behind these stretches a great wood several miles + in area, out of which the Albuera stream emerges, and behind the + furthest verge of the wood the morning sky lightens momently. The + birds in the wood, unaware that this day is to be different from + every other day they have known there, are heard singing their + overtures with their usual serenity.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + As objects grow more distinct it can be perceived that some strategic + dispositions of the night are being completed by the French forces, + which the evening before lay in the woodland to the front of the + English army. They have emerged during the darkness, and large + sections of them--infantry, cuirassiers, and artillery--have crept + round to BERESFORD'S right without his suspecting the movement, where + they lie hidden by the great hill aforesaid, though not more than + half-a-mile from his right wing. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + A hot ado goes forward here to-day, + If I may read the Immanent Intent + From signs and tokens blent + With weird unrest along the firmament + Of causal coils in passionate display. + --Look narrowly, and what you witness say. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + I see red smears upon the sickly dawn, + And seeming drops of gore. On earth below + Are men--unnatural and mechanic-drawn-- + Mixt nationalities in row and row, + Wheeling them to and fro + In moves dissociate from their souls' demand, + For dynasts' ends that few even understand! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Speak more materially, and less in dream. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + I'll do it.... The stir of strife grows well defined + Around the hamlet and the church thereby: + Till, from the wood, the ponderous columns wind, + Guided by Godinot, with Werle nigh. + They bear upon the vill. But the gruff guns + Of Dickson's Portuguese + Punch spectral vistas through the maze of these!... + More Frenchmen press, and roaring antiphons + Of cannonry contuse the roofs and walls and trees. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Wrecked are the ancient bridge, the green spring plot, + the blooming fruit-tree, the fair flower-knot! + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + Yet the true mischief to the English might + Is meant to fall not there. Look to the right, + And read the shaping scheme by yon hill-side, + Where cannon, foot, and brisk dragoons you see, + With Werle and Latour-Maubourg to guide, + Waiting to breast the hill-brow bloodily. + + + BERESFORD now becomes aware of this project on his flank, and sends + orders to throw back his right to face the attack. The order is not + obeyed. Almost at the same moment the French rush is made, the + Spanish and Portuguese allies of the English are beaten beck, and + the hill is won. But two English divisions bear from the centre of + their front, and plod desperately up the hill to retake it. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Now he among us who may wish to be + A skilled practitioner in slaughtery, + Should watch this hour's fruition yonder there, + And he will know, if knowing ever were, + How mortals may be freed their fleshly cells, + And quaint red doors set ope in sweating fells, + By methods swift and slow and foul and fair! + + + The English, who have plunged up the hill, are caught in a heavy + mist, that hides from them an advance in their rear of the lancers + and hussars of the enemy. The lines of the Buffs, the Sixty-sixth, + and those of the Forty-eighth, who were with them, in a chaos of + smoke, steel, sweat, curses, and blood, are beheld melting down + like wax from an erect position to confused heaps. Their forms + lie rigid, or twitch and turn, as they are trampled over by the + hoofs of the enemy's horse. Those that have not fallen are taken. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + It works as you, uncanny Phantom, wist!... + Whose is that towering form + That tears across the mist + To where the shocks are sorest?--his with arm + Outstretched, and grimy face, and bloodshot eye, + Like one who, having done his deeds, will die? + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + He is one Beresford, who heads the fight + For England here to-day. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + He calls the sight + Despite itself!--parries yon lancer's thrust, + And with his own sword renders dust to dust! + + + The ghastly climax of the strife is reached; the combatants are + seen to be firing grape and canister at speaking distance, and + discharging musketry in each other's faces when so close that + their complexions may be recognized. Hot corpses, their mouths + blackened by cartridge-biting, and surrounded by cast-away + knapsacks, firelocks, hats, stocks, flint-boxes, and priming + horns, together with red and blue rags of clothing, gaiters, + epaulettes, limbs and viscera accumulate on the slopes, increasing + from twos and threes to half-dozens, and from half-dozens to heaps, + which steam with their own warmth as the spring rain falls gently + upon them. + + The critical instant has come, and the English break. But a + comparatively fresh division, with fusileers, is brought into the + turmoil by HARDINGE and COLE, and these make one last strain to + save the day, and their names and lives. The fusileers mount the + incline, and issuing from the smoke and mist startle the enemy by + their arrival on a spot deemed won. + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + They come, beset by riddling hail; + They sway like sedges is a gale; + The fail, and win, and win, and fail. Albuera! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + They gain the ground there, yard by yard, + Their brows and hair and lashes charred, + Their blackened teeth set firm and hard. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Their mad assailants rave and reel, + And face, as men who scorn to feel, + The close-lined, three-edged prongs of steel. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Till faintness follows closing-in, + When, faltering headlong down, they spin + Like leaves. But those pay well who win Albuera. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Out of six thousand souls that sware + To hold the mount, or pass elsewhere, + But eighteen hundred muster there. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Pale Colonels, Captains, ranksmen lie, + Facing the earth or facing sky;-- + They strove to live, they stretch to die. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Friends, foemen, mingle; heap and heap.-- + Hide their hacked bones, Earth!--deep, deep, deep, + Where harmless worms caress and creep. + + + CHORUS + + Hide their hacked bones, Earth!--deep, deep, deep, + Where harmless worms caress and creep.-- + What man can grieve? what woman weep? + Better than waking is to sleep! Albuera! + + + The night comes on, and darkness covers the battle-field. + + + + SCENE V + + WINDSOR CASTLE. A ROOM IN THE KING'S APARTMENT + + [The walls of the room are padded, and also the articles of + furniture, the stuffing being overlaid with satin and velvet, on + which are worked in gold thread monograms and crowns. The windows + are guarded, and the floor covered with thick cork, carpeted. The + time is shortly after the last scene. + + The KING is seated by a window, and two of Dr. WILLIS'S attendants + are in the room. His MAJESTY is now seventy-two; his sight is + very defective, but he does not look ill. He appears to be lost + in melancholy thought, and talks to himself reproachfully, hurried + manner on occasion being the only irregular symptom that he + betrays.] + + + KING + + In my lifetime I did not look after her enough--enough--enough! + And now she is lost to me, and I shall never see her more. Had I + but known, had I but thought of it! Gentlemen, when did I lose the + Princess Amelia? + + + FIRST ATTENDANT + + The second of last November, your Majesty. + + + KING + + And what is it now? + + + FIRST ATTENDANT + + Now, sir, it is the beginning of June. + + + KING + + Ah, June, I remember!... The June flowers are not for me. I + shall never see them; nor will she. So fond of them as she was. +... Even if I were living I would never go where there are flowers + any more! No: I would go to the bleak, barren places that she never + would walk in, and never knew, so that nothing might remind me of + her, and make my heart ache more than I can bear!... Why, the + beginning of June?--that's when they are coming to examine me! [He + grows excited.] + + + FIRST ATTENDANT [to second attendant, aside] + + Dr. Reynolds ought not have reminded him of their visit. It only + disquiets him and makes him less fit to see them. + + + KING + + How long have I been confined here? + + + FIRST ATTENDANT + + Since November, sir; for your health's sake entirely, as your Majesty + knows. + + + KING + + What, what? So long? Ah, yes. I must bear it. This is the fourth + great black gulf in my poor life, is it not? The fourth. + + [A signal from the door. The second attendant opens it and whispers. + Enter softly SIR HENRY HALFORD, DR. WILLIAM HEBERDEN, DR. ROBERT + WILLIS, DR. MATTHEW BAILLIE, the KING'S APOTHECARY, and one or two + other gentlemen.] + + + KING [straining his eye to discern them] + + What! Are they come? What will they do to me? How dare they! I + am Elector of Hanover! [Finding Dr. Willis is among them he shrieks.] + O, they are going to bleed me--yes, to bleed me! [Piteously.] My + friends, don't bleed me--pray don't! It makes me so weak to take my + blood. And the leeches do, too, when you put so many. You will not + be so unkind, I am sure! + + + WILLIS [to Baillie] + + It is extraordinary what a vast aversion he has to bleeding--that + most salutary remedy, fearlessly practised. He submits to leeches + as yet but I won't say that he will for long without being strait- + jacketed. + + + KING [catching some of the words] + + You will strait-jacket me? O no, no! + + + WILLIS + + Leeches are not effective, really. Dr. Home, when I mentioned it to + him yesterday, said he would bleed him till he fainted if he had + charge of him! + + + KING + + O will you do it, sir, against my will, + And put me, once your king, in needless pain? + I do assure you truly, my good friends, + That I have done no harm! In sunnier years + Ere I was throneless, withered to a shade, + Deprived of my divine authority-- + When I was hale, and ruled the English land-- + I ever did my utmost to promote + The welfare of my people, body and soul! + Right many a morn and night I have prayed and mused + How I could bring them to a better way. + So much of me you surely know, my friends, + And will not hurt me in my weakness here! [He trembles.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + The tears that lie about this plightful scene + Of heavy travail in a suffering soul, + Mocked with the forms and feints of royalty + While scarified by briery Circumstance, + Might drive Compassion past her patiency + To hold that some mean, monstrous ironist + Had built this mistimed fabric of the Spheres + To watch the throbbings of its captive lives, + [The which may Truth forfend], and not thy said + Unmaliced, unimpassioned, nescient Will! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Mild one, be not touched with human fate. + Such is the Drama: such the Mortal state: + No sigh of thine can null the Plan Predestinate! + + + HALFORD + + We have come to do your Majesty no harm. + Here's Dr. Heberden, whom I am sure you like, + And this is Dr. Baillie. We arrive + But to inquire and gather how you are, + Thereon to let the Privy Council know, + And give assurances for you people's good. + + [A brass band is heard playing in the distant part of Windsor.] + + + KING + + Ah--what does that band play for here to-day? + She has been dead and I so short a time!... + Her little hands are hardly cold as yet; + But they can show such cruel indecency + As to let trumpets play! + + + HALFORD + + They guess not, sir, + That you can hear them, or their chords would cease. + Their boisterous music fetches back to me + That, of our errands to your Majesty, + One was congratulation most sincere + Upon this glorious victory you have won. + The news is just in port; the band booms out + To celebrate it, and to honour you. + + + KING + + A victory? I? Pray where? + + + HALFORD + + Indeed so, sir: + Hard by Albuera--far in harried Spain-- + Yes, sir; you have achieved a victory + Of dash unmatched and feats unparalleled! + + + KING + + He says I have won a battle? But I thought + I was a poor afflicted captive here, + In darkness lingering out my lonely days, + Beset with terror of these myrmidons + That suck my blood like vampires! Ay, ay, ay!-- + No aims left to me but to quicken death + To quicklier please my son!--And yet he says + That I have won a battle! O God, curse, damn! + When will the speech of the world accord with truth, + And men's tongues roll sincerely! + + + GENTLEMAN [aside] + + Faith, 'twould seem + As if the madman were the sanest here! + + [The KING'S face has flushed, and he becomes violent. The + attendants rush forward to him.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Something within me aches to pray + To some Great Heart, to take away + This evil day, this evil day! + + + CHORUS IRONIC + + Ha-ha! That's good. Thou'lt pray to It:-- + But where do Its compassions sit? + Yea, where abides the heart of it? + + Is it where sky-fires flame and flit, + Or solar craters spew and spit, + Or ultra-stellar night-webs knit? + + What is Its shape? Man's counterfeit? + That turns in some far sphere unlit + The Wheel which drives the Infinite? + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Mock on, mock on! Yet I'll go pray + To some Great Heart, who haply may + Charm mortal miseries away! + + [The KING'S paroxysm continues. The attendants hold him.] + + + HALFORD + + This is distressing. One can never tell + How he will take things now. I thought Albuera + A subject that would surely solace him. + These paroxysms--have they been bad this week? [To Attendants.] + + + FIRST ATTENDANT + + Sir Henry, no. He has quite often named + The late Princess, as gently as a child + A little bird found starved. + + + WILLIS [aside to apothecary] + + I must increase the opium to-night, and lower him by a double set of + leeches since he won't stand the lancet quietly. + + + APOTHECARY + + You should take twenty ounces, doctor, if a drop--indeed, go on + blooding till he's unconscious. He is too robust by half. And the + watering-pot would do good again--not less than six feet above his + head. See how heated he is. + + + WILLIS + + Curse that town band. It will have to be stopped. + + + HEBERDEN + + The same thing is going on all over England, no doubt, on account of + this victory. + + + HALFORD + + When he is in a more domineering mood he likes such allusions to his + rank as king.... If he could resume his walks on the terrace he + might improve slightly. But it is too soon yet. We must consider + what we shall report to the Council. There is little hope of his + being much better. What do you think, Willis? + + + WILLIS + + None. He is done for this time! + + + HALFORD + + Well, we must soften it down a little, so as not to upset the Queen + too much, poor woman, and distract the Council unnecessarily. Eldon + will go pumping up bucketfuls, and the Archbishops are so easily + shocked that a certain conventional reserve is almost forced upon us. + + + WILLIS [returning from the King] + + He is already better. The paroxysm has nearly passed. Your opinion + will be far more favourable before you leave. + + [The KING soon grows calm, and the expression of his face changes + to one of dejection. The attendants leave his side: he bends his + head, and covers his face with his hand, while his lips move as if + in prayer. He then turns to them.] + + + KING [meekly] + + I am most truly sorry, gentlemen, + If I have used language that would seem to show + Discourtesy to you for your good help + In this unhappy malady of mine! + My nerves unstring, my friend; my flesh grows weak: + “The good that I do I leave undone, + The evil which I would not, that I do!” + Shame, shame on me! + + + WILLIS [aside to the others] + + Now he will be as low as before he was in the other extreme. + + + KING + + A king should bear him kingly; I of all, + One of so long a line. O shame on me!... + --This battle that you speak of?--Spain, of course? + Ah--Albuera! And many fall--eh? Yes? + + + HALFORD + + Many hot hearts, sir, cold, I grieve to say. + There's Major-General Houghton, Captain Bourke, + And Herbert of the Third, Lieutenant Fox, + And Captains Erck and Montague, and more. + With Majors-General Cole and Stewart wounded, + And Quartermaster-General Wallace too: + A total of three generals, colonels five, + Five majors, fifty captains; and to these + Add ensigns and lieutenants sixscore odd, + Who went out, but returned not. Heavily tithed + Were the attenuate battalions there + Who stood and bearded Death by the hour that day! + + + KING + + O fearful price for victory! Add thereto + All those I lost at Walchere.--A crime + Lay there!... I stood on Chatham's being sent: + It wears on me, till I am unfit to live! + + + WILLIS [aside to the others] + + Don't let him get on that Walcheren business. There will be another + outbreak. Heberden, please ye talk to him. He fancies you most. + + + HEBERDEN + + I'll tell him some of the brilliant feats of the battle. [He goes + and talks to the KING.] + + + WILLIS [to the rest] + + Well, my inside begins to cry cupboard. I had breakfast early. We + have enough particulars now to face the Queen's Council with, I + should say, Sir Henry? + + + HALFORD + + Yes.--I want to get back to town as soon as possible to-day. Mrs + Siddons has a party at her house at Westbourne to-night, and all the + world is going to be there. + + + BAILLIE + + Well, I am not. But I have promised to take some friends to Vauxhall, + as it is a grand gala and fireworks night. Miss Farren is going to + sing “The Canary Bird.”--The Regent's fete, by the way, is postponed + till the nineteenth, on account of this relapse. Pretty grumpy he + was at having to do it. All the world will be THERE, sure! + + + WILLIS + + And some from the Shades, too, of the fair, sex.--Well, here comes + Heberden. He has pacified his Majesty nicely. Now we can get away. + + [The physicians withdraw softly, and the scene is covered.] + + + + SCENE VI + + LONDON. CARLTON HOUSE AND THE STREETS ADJOINING + + [It is a cloudless midsummer evening, and as the west fades the + stars beam down upon the city, the evening-star hanging like a + jonquil blossom. They are dimmed by the unwonted radiance which + spreads around and above Carlton House. As viewed from aloft the + glare rises through the skylights, floods the forecourt towards + Pall Mall, and kindles with a diaphanous glow the huge tents in + the gardens that overlook the Mall. The hour has arrived of the + Prince Regent's festivity. + + A stream of carriages and sedan-chairs, moving slowly, stretches + from the building along Pall Mall into Piccadilly and Bond Street, + and crowds fill the pavements watching the bejewelled and feathered + occupants. In addition to the grand entrance inside the Pall Mall + colonnade there is a covert little “chair-door” in Warwick Street + for sedans only, by which arrivals are perceived to be slipping in + almost unobserved.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + What domiciles are those, of singular expression, + Whence no guest comes to join the gemmed procession; + That, west of Hyde, this, in the Park-side Lane, + Each front beclouded like a mask of pain? + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + Therein the princely host's two spouses dwell; + A wife in each. Let me inspect and tell. + + [The walls of the two houses--one in Park Lane, the other at + Kensington--become transparent.] + + I see within the first his latter wife-- + That Caroline of Brunswick whose brave sire + Yielded his breath on Jena's reeking plain, + And of whose kindred other yet may fall + Ere long, if character indeed be fate.-- + She idles feasting, and is full of jest + As each gay chariot rumbles to the rout. + “I rank like your Archbishops' wives,” laughs she; + “Denied my husband's honours. Funny me!” + + [Suddenly a Beau on his way to the Carlton House festival halts at + her house, calls, and is shown in.] + + He brings her news that a fresh favourite rules + Her husband's ready heart; likewise of those + Obscure and unmissed courtiers late deceased, + Who have in name been bidden to the feast + By blundering scribes. + + [The Princess is seen to jump up from table at some words from her + visitor, and clap her hands.] + + These tidings, juxtaposed, + Have fired her hot with curiosity, + And lit her quick invention with a plan. + + + PRINCESS OF WALES + + Mine God, I'll go disguised--in some dead name + And enter by the leetle, sly, chair-door + Designed for those not welcomed openly. + There unobserved I'll note mine new supplanter! + 'Tis indiscreet? Let indiscretion rule, + Since caution pensions me so scurvily! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Good. Now for the other sweet and slighted spouse. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + The second roof shades the Fitzherbert Fair; + Reserved, perverse. As coach and coach roll by + She mopes within her lattice; lampless, lone, + As if she grieved at her ungracious fate, + And yet were loth to kill the sting of it + By frankly forfeiting the Prince and town. + “Bidden,” says she, “but as one low of rank, + And go I will not so unworthily, + To sit with common dames!”--A flippant friend + Writes then that a new planet sways to-night + The sense of her erratic lord; whereon + The fair Fitzherbert muses hankeringly. + + + MRS. FITZHERBERT [soliloquizing] + + The guest-card which I publicly refused + Might, as a fancy, privately be used!... + Yes--one last look--a wordless, wan farewell + To this false life which glooms me like a knell, + And him, the cause; from some hid nook survey + His new magnificence;--then go for aye! + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + She cloaks and veils, and in her private chair + Passes the Princess also stealing there-- + Two honest wives, and yet a differing pair! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + With dames of strange repute, who bear a ticket + For screened admission by the private wicket. + + + CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music] + + A wife of the body, a wife of the mind, + A wife somewhat frowsy, a wife too refined: + Could the twain but grow one, and no other dames be, + No husband in Europe more steadfast than he! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Cease fooling on weak waifs who love and wed + But as the unweeting Urger may bestead!-- + See them withinside, douce and diamonded. + + [The walls of Carlton House open, and the spectator finds himself + confronting the revel.] + + + + SCENE VII + + THE SAME. THE INTERIOR OF CARLTON HOUSE + + [A central hall is disclosed, radiant with constellations of + candles, lamps, and lanterns, and decorated with flowering shrubs. + An opening on the left reveals the Grand Council-chamber prepared + for dancing, the floor being chalked with arabesques having in the + centre “G. III. R.,” with a crown, arms, and supporters. Orange- + trees and rose-bushes in bloom stand against the walls. On the + right hand extends a glittering vista of the supper-rooms and + tables, now crowded with guests. This display reaches as far as + the conservatory westward, and branches into long tents on the + lawn. + + On a dais at the chief table, laid with gold and silver plate, the + Prince Regent sits like a lay figure, in a state chair of crimson + and gold, with six servants at his back. He swelters in a gorgeous + uniform of scarlet and gold lace which represents him as Field + Marshal, and he is surrounded by a hundred-and-forty of his + particular friends. + + Down the middle of this state-table runs a purling brook crossed + by quaint bridges, in which gold and silver fish frisk about + between banks of moss and flowers. The whole scene is lit with + wax candles in chandeliers, and in countless candelabra on the + tables. + + The people at the upper tables include the Duchess of York, looking + tired from having just received as hostess most of the ladies + present, except those who have come informally, Louis XVIII. of + France, the Duchess of Angouleme, all the English Royal Dukes, + nearly all the ordinary Dukes and Duchesses; also the Lord + Chancellor of the Exchequer and other Ministers, the Lord Mayor + and Lady Mayoress, all the more fashionable of the other Peers, + Peeresses, and Members of Parliament, Generals, Admirals, and + Mayors, with their wives. The ladies of position wear, almost to + the extent of a uniform, a nodding head-dress of ostrich feathers + with diamonds, and gowns of white satin embroidered in gold or + silver, on which, owing to the heat, dribbles of wax from the + chandeliers occasionally fall. + + The Guards' bands play, and attendants rush about in blue and gold + lace.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + The Queen, the Regent's mother, sits not here; + Wanting, too, are his sisters, I perceive; + And it is well. With the distempered King + Immured at Windsor, sore distraught or dying, + It borders nigh on indecency + In their regard, that this loud feast is kept, + A thought not strange to many, as I read, + Even of those gathered here. + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + My dear phantom and crony, the gloom upon their faces is due rather + to their having borrowed those diamonds at eleven per cent than to + their loyalty to a suffering monarch! But let us test the feeling. + I'll spread a report. + + [He calls up the SPIRIT OF RUMOUR, who scatters whispers through + the assemblage.] + + + A GUEST [to his neighbour] + + Have you heard this report--that the King is dead? + + + ANOTHER GUEST + + It has just reached me from the other side. Can it be true? + + + THIRD GUEST + + I think it probable. He has been very ill all week. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Dead? Then my fete is spoilt, by God! + + + SHERIDAN + + Long live the King! [He holds up his glass and bows to the Regent.] + + + MARCHIONESS OF HERTFORD [the new favourite, to the Regent] + + The news is more natural than the moment of it! It is too cruel to + you that it should happen now! + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Damn me, though; can it be true? [He provisionally throws a regal + air into his countenance.] + + + DUCHESS OF YORK [on the Regent's left] + + I hardly can believe it. This forenoon + He was reported mending. + + + DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME [on the Regent's right] + + On this side + They are asserting that the news is false-- + That Buonaparte's child, the “King of Rome,” + Is dead, and not your royal father, sire. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + That's mighty fortunate! Had it been true, + I should have been abused by all the world-- + The Queen the keenest of the chorus, too-- + Though I have been postponing this pledged feast + Through days and weeks, in hopes the King would mend, + Till expectation fusted with delay. + But give a dog a bad name--or a Prince! + So, then, it is new-come King of Rome + Who has passed or ever the world has welcomed him!... + Call him a king--that pompous upstart's son-- + Beside us scions of the ancient lines! + + + DUKE OF BEDFORD + + I think that rumour untrue also, sir. I heard it as I drove up from + Woburn this evening, and it was contradicted then. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Drove up this evening, did ye, Duke. Why did you cut it so close? + + + DUKE OF BEDFORD + + Well, it so happened that my sheep-sheering dinner was fixed for + this very day, and I couldn't put it off. So I dined with them + there at one o'clock, discussed the sheep, rushed off, drove the + two-and-forty miles, jumped into my clothes at my house here, and + reached your Royal Highness's door in no very bad time. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Capital, capital. But, 'pon my soul, 'twas a close shave! + + [Soon the babbling and glittering company rise from supper, and + begin promenading through the rooms and tents, the REGENT setting + the example, and mixing up and talking unceremoniously with his + guests of every degree. He and the group round him disappear into + the remoter chambers; but may concentrate in the Grecian Hall, + which forms the foreground of the scene, whence a glance can be + obtained into the ball-room, now filled with dancers. + + The band is playing the tune of the season, “The Regency Hornpipe,” + which is danced as a country-dance by some thirty couples; so that + by the time the top couple have danced down the figure they are + quite breathless. Two young lords talk desultorily as they survey + the scene.] + + + FIRST LORD + + Are the rumours of the King of Rome's death confirmed? + + + SECOND LORD + + No. But they are probably true. He was a feeble brat from the + first. I believe they had to baptize him on the day he was born. + What can one expect after such presumption--calling him the New + Messiah, and God knows what all. Ours is the only country which + did not write fulsome poems about him. “Wise English!” the Tsar + Alexander said drily when he heard it. + + + FIRST LORD + + Ay! The affection between that Pompey and Caesar has begun to cool. + Alexander's soreness at having his sister thrown over so cavalierly + is not salved yet. + + + SECOND LORD + + There is much beside. I'd lay a guinea there will be war between + Russia and France before another year has flown. + + + FIRST LORD + + Prinny looks a little worried to-night. + + + SECOND LORD + + Yes. The Queen don't like the fete being held, considering the + King's condition. She and her friends say it should have been put + off altogether. But the Princess of Wales is not troubled that way. + Though she was not asked herself she went wildly off and bought her + people new gowns to come in. Poor maladroit woman!.... + + [Another new dance of the year is started, and another long line + of couples begin to foot it.] + + That's a pretty thing they are doing now. What d'ye call it? + + + FIRST LORD + + “Speed the Plough.” It is just out. They are having it everywhere. + The next is to be one of those foreign things in three-eight time + they call Waltzes. I question if anybody is up to dancing 'em here + yet. + + [“Speed the Plough” is danced to its conclusion, and the band + strikes up “The Copenhagen Waltz.”] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Now for the wives. They both were tearing hither, + Unless reflection sped them back again; + But dignity that nothing else may bend + Succumbs to woman's curiosity, + So deem them here. Messengers, call them nigh! + + [The PRINCE REGENT, having gone the round of the other rooms, now + appears at the ball-room door, and stands looking at the dancers. + Suddenly he turns, and gazes about with a ruffled face. He sees + a tall, red-faced man near him--LORD MOIRA, one of his friends.] + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Damned hot here, Moira. Hottest of all for me! + + + MOIRA + + Yes, it is warm, sir. Hence I do not dance. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + H'm. What I meant was of another order; + I spoke figuratively. + + + MOIRA + + O indeed, sir? + + + PRINCE REGENT + + She's here. I heard her voice. I'll swear I did! + + + MOIRA + + Who, sir? + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Why, the Princess of Wales. Do you think I could mistake those + beastly German Ps and Bs of hers?--She asked to come, and was + denied; but she's got here, I'll wager ye, through the chair-door + in Warwick Street, which I arranged for a few ladies whom I wished + to come privately. [He looks about again, and moves till he is by + a door which affords a peep up the grand staircase.] By God, Moira, + I see TWO figures up there who shouldn't be here--leaning over the + balustrade of the gallery! + + + MOIRA + + Two figures, sir. Whose are they? + + + PRINCE REGENT + + She is one. The Fitzherbert in t'other! O I am almost sure it is! + I would have welcomed her, but she bridled and said she wouldn't sit + down at my table as a plain “Mrs.” to please anybody. As I had sworn + that on this occasion people should sit strictly according to their + rank, I wouldn't give way. Why the devil did she come like this? + 'Pon my soul, these women will be the death o' me! + + + MOIRA [looking cautiously up the stairs] + + I can see nothing of her, sir, nor of the Princess either. There is + a crowd of idlers up there leaning over the bannisters, and you may + have mistaken some others for them. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + O no. They have drawn back their heads. There have been such damned + mistakes made in sending out the cards that the biggest w--- in London + might be here. She's watching Lady Hertford, that's what she's doing. + For all their indifference, both of them are as jealous as two cats + over the tom. + + [Somebody whispers that a lady has fainted up-stairs.] + + That's Maria, I'll swear! She's always doing it. Whenever I hear + of some lady fainting about upon the furniture at my presence, and + sending for a glass of water, I say to myself, There's Maria at it + again, by God! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Now let him hear their voices once again. + + [The REGENT starts as he seems to hear from the stairs the tongues + of the two ladies growing louder and nearer, the PRINCESS pouring + reproaches into one ear, and MRS. FITZHERBERT into the other.] + + + PRINCE REGENT + + + 'Od seize 'em, Moira; this will drive me mad! + If men of blood must mate with only one + Of those dear damned deluders called the Sex, + Why has Heaven teased us with the taste for change?-- + God, I begin to loathe the whole curst show! + How hot it is! Get me a glass of brandy, + Or I shall swoon off too. Now let's go out, + And find some fresher air upon the lawn. + + [Exit the PRINCE REGENT, with LORDS MOIRA and YARMOUTH. The band + strikes up “La Belle Catarina” and a new figure is formed.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Phantoms, ye strain your powers unduly here, + Making faint fancies as they were indeed + The Mighty Will's firm work. + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Nay, Father, nay; + The wives prepared to hasten hitherward + Under the names of some gone down to death, + Who yet were bidden. Must they not by here? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + There lie long leagues between a woman's word-- + “She will, indeed she will!”--and acting on't. + Whether those came or no, thy antics cease, + And let the revel wear it out in peace. + + [Enter SPENCER PERCEVAL the Prime Minister, a small, pale, grave- + looking man, and an Under-Secretary of State, meeting.] + + + UNDER-SECRETARY + + Is the King of Rome really dead, and the gorgeous gold cradle wasted? + + + PERCEVAL + + O no, he is alive and waxing strong: + That tale has been set travelling more than once. + But touching it, booms echo to our ear + Of graver import, unimpeachable. + + + UNDER-SECRETARY + + Your speech is dark. + + + PERCEVAL + + Well, a new war in Europe. + Before the year is out there may arise + A red campaign outscaling any seen. + Russia and France the parties to the strife-- + Ay, to the death! + + + UNDER-SECRETARY + + By Heaven, sir, do you say so? + + [Enter CASTLEREAGH, a tall, handsome man with a Roman nose, who, + seeing them, approaches.] + + + PERCEVAL + + Ha, Castlereagh. Till now I have missed you here. + This news is startling for us all, I say! + + + CASTLEREAGH + + My mind is blank on it! Since I left office + I know no more what villainy's afoot, + Or virtue either, than an anchoret + Who mortifies the flesh in some lone cave. + + + PERCEVAL + + Well, happily that may not last for long. + But this grave pother that's just now agog + May reach such radius in its consequence + As to outspan our lives! Yes, Bonaparte + And Alexander--late such bosom-friends-- + Are closing to a mutual murder-bout + At which the lips of Europe will wax wan. + Bonaparte says the fault is not with him, + And so says Alexander. But we know + The Austrian knot began their severance, + And that the Polish question largens it. + Nothing but time is needed for the clash. + And if so be that Wellington but keep + His foot in the Peninsula awhile, + Between the pestle and the mortar-stone + Of Russia and of Spain, Napoleon's brayed. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR [to the Spirit of the Years] + + Permit me now to join them and confirm, + By what I bring from far, their forecasting? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + I'll go. Thou knowest not greatly more than they. + + [The SPIRIT OF THE YEARS enters the apartment in the shape of a + pale, hollow-eye gentleman wearing an embroidered suit. At the + same time re-enter the REGENT, LORDS MOIRA, YARMOUTH, KEITH, LADY + HERTFORD, SHERIDAN, the DUKE OF BEDFORD, with many more notables. + The band changes into the popular dance, “Down with the French,” + and the characters aforesaid look on at the dancers.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS [to Perceval] + + Yes, sir; your text is true. In closest touch + With European courts and cabinets, + The imminence of dire and deadly war + Betwixt these east and western emperies + Is lipped by special pathways to mine ear. + You may not see the impact: ere it come + The tomb-worm may caress thee [Perceval shrinks]; but believe + Before five more have joined the shotten years + Whose useless films infest the foggy Past, + Traced thick with teachings glimpsed unheedingly, + The rawest Dynast of the group concerned + Will, for the good or ill of mute mankind, + Down-topple to the dust like soldier Saul, + And Europe's mouldy-minded oligarchs + Be propped anew; while garments roll in blood + To confused noise, with burning, and fuel of fire. + Nations shall lose their noblest in the strife, + And tremble at the tidings of an hour! + + [He passes into the crowd and vanishes.] + + + PRINCE REGENT [who has heard with parted lips] + + Who the devil is he? + + + PERCEVAL + + One in the suite of the French princes, perhaps, sir?--though his + tone was not monarchical. He seems to be a foreigner. + + + CASTLEREAGH + + His manner was that of an old prophet, and his features had a Jewish + cast, which accounted for his Hebraic style. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + He could not have known me, to speak so freely in my presence! + + + SHERIDAN + + I expected to see him write on the wall, like the gentleman with the + Hand at Belshazzar's Feast. + + + PRINCE REGENT [recovering] + + He seemed to know a damn sight more about what's going on in Europe, + sir [to Perceval], than your Government does, with all its secret + information. + + + PERCEVAL + + He is recently over, I conjecture, your royal Highness, and brings + the latest impressions. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + By Gad, sir, I shall have a comfortable time of it in my regency, or + reign, if what he foresees be true! But I was born for war; it is + my destiny! + + [He draws himself up inside his uniform and stalks away. The group + dissolves, the band continuing stridently, “Down with the French,” + as dawn glimmers in. Soon the REGENT'S guests begin severally and + in groups to take leave.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Behold To-morrow riddles the curtains through, + And labouring life without shoulders its cross anew! + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + Why watch we here? Look all around + Where Europe spreads her crinkled ground, + From Osmanlee to Hekla's mound, + Look all around! + + Hark at the cloud-combed Ural pines; + See how each, wailful-wise, inclines; + Mark the mist's labyrinthine lines; + + Behold the tumbling Biscay Bay; + The Midland main in silent sway; + As urged to move them, so move they. + + No less through regal puppet-shows + The rapt Determinator throes, + That neither good nor evil knows! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Yet I may wake and understand + Ere Earth unshape, know all things, and + With knowledge use a painless hand, + A painless hand! + + [Solitude reigns in the chambers, and the scene shuts up.] + + + + + + +PART THIRD + + + + CHARACTERS + + + I. PHANTOM INTELLIGENCES + + THE ANCIENT SPIRIT OF THE YEARS/CHORUS OF THE YEARS. + + THE SPIRIT OF THE PITIES/CHORUS OF THE PITIES. + + SPIRITS SINISTER AND IRONIC/CHORUSES OF SINISTER AND IRONIC SPIRITS. + + THE SPIRIT OF RUMOUR/CHORUS OF RUMOURS. + + THE SHADE OF THE EARTH. + + SPIRIT MESSENGERS. + + RECORDING ANGELS. + + + II. PERSONS + + + MEN [The names in lower case are mute figures.] + + THE PRINCE REGENT. + The Royal Dukes. + THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. + The Duke of Beaufort. + CASTLEREAGH, Prime Minister. + Palmerston, War Secretary. + PONSONBY, of the Opposition. + BURDETT, of the Opposition. + WHITBREAD, of the Opposition. + Tierney, Romilly, of the Opposition + Other Members of Parliament. + TWO ATTACHES. + A DIPLOMATIST. + Ambassadors, Ministers, Peers, and other persons of Quality + and Office. + + .......... + + WELLINGTON. + UXBRIDGE. + PICTON. + HILL. + CLINTON. + Colville. + COLE. + BERESFORD. + Pack and Kempt. + Byng. + Vivian. + W. Ponsonby, Vandeleur, Colquhoun-Grant, Maitland, Adam, and + C. Halkett. + Graham, Le Marchant, Pakenham, and Sir Stapleton Cotton. + SIR W. DE LANCEY. + FITZROY SOMERSET. + COLONELS FRASER, H. HALKETT, COLBORNE, Cameron, Hepburn, LORD + SALTOUN, C. Campbell. + SIR NEIL CAMPBELL. + Sir Alexander Gordon, BRIGDEMAN, TYLER, and other AIDES. + CAPTAIN MERCER. + Other Generals, Colonels, and Military Officers. + Couriers. + + A SERGEANT OF DRAGOONS. + Another SERGEANT. + A SERGEANT of the 15th HUSSARS. + A SENTINEL. Batmen. + AN OFFICER'S SERVANT. + Other non-Commissioned Officers and Privates of the British Army. + English Forces. + + .......... + + SIR W. GELL, Chamberlain to the Princess of Wales. + MR. LEGH, a Wessex Gentleman. + Another GENTLEMAN. + THE VICAR OF DURNOVER. + Signor Tramezzini and other members of the Opera Company. + M. Rozier, a dancer. + + LONDON CITIZENS. + A RUSTIC and a YEOMAN. + A MAIL-GUARD. + TOWNSPEOPLE, Musicians, Villagers, etc. + + .......... + + THE DUKE OF BRUNSWICK. + THE PRINCE OF ORANGE. + Count Alten. + Von Ompteda, Baring, Duplat, and other Officers of the King's- + German Legion. + Perponcher, Best, Kielmansegge, Wincke, and other Hanoverian + Officers. + Bylandt and other Officers of the Dutch-Belgian troops. + SOME HUSSARS. + King's-German, Hanoverian, Brunswick, and Dutch-Belgian Forces. + + .......... + + BARON VAN CAPELLEN, Belgian Secretary of State. + The Dukes of Arenberg and d'Ursel. + THE MAYOR OF BRUSSELS. + CITIZENS AND IDLERS of Brussels. + + .......... + + NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. + JOSEPH BONAPARTE. + Jerome Bonaparte. + THE KING OF ROME. + Eugene de Beauharnais. + Cambaceres, Arch-Chancellor to Napoleon. + TALLEYRAND. + CAULAINCOURT. + DE BAUSSET. + + .......... + + MURAT, King of Naples. + SOULT, Napoleon's Chief of Staff. + NEY. + DAVOUT. + MARMONT. + BERTHIER. + BERTRAND. + BESSIERES. + AUGEREAU, MACDONALD, LAURISTON, CAMBRONNE. + Oudinot, Friant, Reille, d'Erlon, Drouot, Victor, Poniatowski, + Jourdan, and other Marshals, and General and Regimental + Officers of Napoleon's Army. + RAPP, MORTIER, LARIBOISIERE. + Kellermann and Milhaud. + COLONELS FABVRIER, MARBOT, MALLET, HEYMES, and others. + French AIDES and COURIERS. + DE CANISY, Equerry to the King of Rome. + COMMANDANT LESSARD. + Another COMMANDANT. + BUSSY, an Orderly Officer. + SOLDIERS of the Imperial Guard and others. + STRAGGLERS; A MAD SOLDIER. + French Forces. + + .......... + + HOUREAU, BOURDOIS, and Ivan, physicians. + MENEVAL, Private Secretary to Napoleon. + DE MONTROND, an emissary of Napoleon's. + Other Secretaries to Napoleon. + CONSTANT, Napoleon's Valet. + ROUSTAN, Napoleon's Mameluke. + TWO POSTILLIONS. + A TRAVELLER. + CHAMBERLAINS and Attendants. + SERVANTS at the Tuileries. + FRENCH CITIZENS and Townspeople. + + .......... + + THE KING OF PRUSSIA. + BLÜCHER. + MUFFLING, Wellington's Prussian Attache. + GNEISENAU. + Zieten. + Bulow. + Kleist, Steinmetz, Thielemann, Falkenhausen. + Other Prussian General and Regimental Officers. + A PRUSSIAN PRISONER of the French. + Prussian Forces. + + .......... + + FRANCIS, Emperor of Austria. + METTERNICH, Chancellor and Foreign Minister. + Hardenberg. + NEIPPERG + Schwarzenberg, Kleinau, Hesse-Homburg, and other Austrian Generals. + Viennese Personages of rank and fashion. + Austrian Forces. + + .......... + + THE EMPEROR ALEXANDER of Russia. + Nesselrode. + KUTUZOF. + Bennigsen. + Barclay de Tolly, Dokhtorof, Bagration, Platoff, Tchichagoff, + Miloradovitch, and other Russian Generals. + Rostopchin, Governor of Moscow. + SCHUVALOFF, a Commissioner. + A RUSSIAN OFFICER under Kutuzof. + Russian Forces. + Moscow Citizens. + + .......... + + Alava, Wellington's Spanish Attache. + Spanish and Portuguese Officers. + Spanish and Portuguese Forces. + Spanish Citizens. + + .......... + + Minor Sovereigns and Princes of Europe. + LEIPZIG CITIZENS. + + + WOMEN + + CAROLINE, PRINCESS OF WALES. + The Duchess of York. + THE DUCHESS OF RICHMOND. + The Duchess of Beaufort. + LADY H. DARYMPLE + Lady de Lancey. + LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL. + Lady Anne Hamilton. + A YOUNG LADY AND HER MOTHER. + MRS. DALBIAC, a Colonel's wife. + MRS. PRESCOTT, a Captain's wife. + Other English ladies of note and rank. + Madame Grassini and other Ladies of the Opera. + Madame Angiolini, a dancer. + VILLAGE WOMEN. + SOLDIERS' WIVES AND SWEETHEARTS. + A SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER. + + .......... + + THE EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE. + The Empress of Austria. + MARIA CAROLINA of Naples. + Queen Hortense. + Laetitia, Madame Bonaparte. + The Princess Pauline. + THE DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO. + THE COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU. + THE COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE. + Other Ladies-in-Waiting on Marie Louise. + + THE EX-EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. + LADIES-IN-WAITING on Josephine. + Another French Lady. + FRENCH MARKET-WOMEN. + A SPANISH LADY. + French and Spanish Women of pleasure. + Continental Citizens' Wives. + Camp-followers. + + + + +ACT FIRST + + + SCENE I + + THE BANKS OF THE NIEMEN, NEAR KOWNO + + [The foreground is a hillock on a broken upland, seen in evening + twilight. On the left, further back, are the dusky forests of + Wilkowsky; on the right is the vague shine of a large river. + + Emerging from the wood below the eminence appears a shadowy + amorphous thing in motion, the central or Imperial column of + NAPOLEON'S Grand Army for the invasion of Russia, comprising + the corps of OUDINOT, NEY, and DAVOUT, with the Imperial Guard. + This, with the right and left columns, makes up the host of + nearly half a million, all starting on their march to Moscow. + + While the rearmost regiments are arriving, NAPOLEON rides ahead + with GENERAL HAXEL and one or two others to reconnoitre the river. + NAPOLEON'S horse stumbles and throws him. He picks himself up + before he can be helped.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS [to Napoleon] + + The portent is an ill one, Emperor; + An ancient Roman would retire thereat! + + + NAPOLEON + + Whose voice was that, jarring upon my thought + So insolently? + + + HAXEL AND OTHERS + + Sire, we spoke no word. + + + NAPOLEON + + Then, whoso spake, such portents I defy! + + [He remounts. When the reconnoitrers again came back to the + foreground of the scene the huge array of columns is standing + quite still, in circles of companies, the captain of each in + the middle with a paper in his hand. He reads from it a + proclamation. They quiver emotionally, like leaves stirred by + the wind. NAPOLEON and his staff reascend the hillock, and his + own words as repeated to the ranks reach his ears, while he + himself delivers the same address to those about him. + + + NAPOLEON + + Soldiers, wild war is on the board again; + The lifetime-long alliance Russia swore + At Tilsit, for the English realm's undoing, + Is violate beyond refurbishment, + And she intractable and unashamed. + Russia is forced on by fatality: + She cries her destiny must be outwrought, + Meaning at our expense. Does she then dream + We are no more the men of Austerlitz, + With nothing left of our old featfulness? + + She offers us the choice of sword or shame; + We have made that choice unhesitatingly! + Then let us forthwith stride the Niemen flood, + Let us bear war into her great gaunt land, + And spread our glory there as otherwhere, + So that a stable peace shall stultify + The evil seed-bearing that Russian wiles + Have nourished upon Europe's choked affairs + These fifty years! + + [The midsummer night darkens. They all make their bivouacs + and sleep.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Something is tongued afar. + + + DISTANT VOICE IN THE WIND + + The hostile hatchings of Napoleon's brain + Against our Empire, long have harassed us, + And mangled all our mild amenities. + So, since the hunger for embranglement + That gnaws this man, has left us optionless, + And haled us recklessly to horrid war, + We have promptly mustered our well-hardened hosts, + And, counting on our call to the most High, + Have forthwith set our puissance face to face + Against Napoleon's.--Ranksmen! officers! + You fend your lives, your land, your liberty. + I am with you. Heaven frowns on the aggressor. + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Ha! “Liberty” is quaint, and pleases me, + Sounding from such a soil! + + [Midsummer-day breaks, and the sun rises on the right, revealing + the position clearly. The eminence overlooks for miles the river + Niemen, now mirroring the morning rays. Across the river three + temporary bridges have been thrown, and towards them the French + masses streaming out of the forest descend in three columns. + + They sing, shout, fling their shakos in the air and repeat words + from the proclamation, their steel and brass flashing in the sun. + They narrow their columns as they gain the three bridges, and begin + to cross--horse, foot, and artillery. + + NAPOLEON has come from the tent in which he has passed the night + to the high ground in front, where he stands watching through his + glass the committal of his army to the enterprise. DAVOUT, NEY, + MURAT, OUDINOT, Generals HAXEL and EBLE, NARBONNE, and others + surround him. + + It is a day of drowsing heat, and the Emperor draws a deep breath + as he shifts his weight from one puffed calf to the other. The + light cavalry, the foot, the artillery having passed, the heavy + horse now crosses, their glitter outshining the ripples on the + stream. + + A messenger enters. NAPOLEON reads papers that are brought, and + frowns.] + + + NAPOLEON + + The English heads decline to recognize + The government of Joseph, King of Spain, + As that of “the now-ruling dynast”; + But only Ferdinand's!--I'll get to Moscow, + And send thence my rejoinder. France shall wage + Another fifty years of wasting war + Before a Bourbon shall remount the throne + Of restless Spain!... [A flash lights his eyes.] + + But this long journey now just set a-trip + Is my choice way to India; and 'tis there + That I shall next bombard the British rule. + With Moscow taken, Russia prone and crushed, + To attain the Ganges is simplicity-- + Auxiliaries from Tiflis backing me. + Once ripped by a French sword, the scaffolding + Of English merchant-mastership in Ind + Will fall a wreck.... Vast, it is true, must bulk + An Eastern scheme so planned; but I could work it.... + Man has, worse fortune, but scant years for war; + I am good for another five! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Why doth he go?-- + I see returning in a chattering flock + Bleached skeletons, instead of this array + Invincibly equipped. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + I'll show you why. + + [The unnatural light before seen usurps that of the sun, bringing + into view, like breezes made visible, the films or brain-tissues of + the Immanent Will, that pervade all things, ramifying through the + whole army, NAPOLEON included, and moving them to Its inexplicable + artistries.] + + + NAPOLEON [with sudden despondency] + + That which has worked will work!--Since Lodi Bridge + The force I then felt move me moves me on + Whether I will or no; and oftentimes + Against my better mind.... Why am I here? + --By laws imposed on me inexorably! + History makes use of me to weave her web + To her long while aforetime-figured mesh + And contemplated charactery: no more. + Well, war's my trade; and whencesoever springs + This one in hand, they'll label it with my name! + + [The natural light returns and the anatomy of the Will disappears. + NAPOLEON mounts his horse and descends in the rear of his host to + the banks of the Niemen. His face puts on a saturnine humour, and + he hums an air.] + + Malbrough s'en va-t-en guerre, + Mironton, mironton, mirontaine; + Malbrough s'en va-t-en guerre, + Ne sait quand reviendra! + + [Exeunt NAPOLEON and his staff.] + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + It is kind of his Imperial Majesty to give me a lead. [Sings.] + + Monsieur d'Malbrough est mort, + Mironton, mironton, mirontaine; + Monsieur d'Malbrough est mort, + Est mort et enterre! + + [Anon the figure of NAPOLEON, diminished to the aspect of a doll, + reappears in front of his suite on the plain below. He rides + across the swaying bridge. Since the morning the sky has grown + overcast, and its blackness seems now to envelope the retreating + array on the other side of the stream. The storm bursts with + thunder and lightning, the river turns leaden, and the scene is + blotted out by the torrents of rain.] + + + + SCENE II + + THE FORD OF SANTA MARTA, SALAMANCA + + [We are in Spain, on a July night of the same summer, the air being + hot and heavy. In the darkness the ripple of the river Tormes can + be heard over the ford, which is near the foreground of the scene. + + Against the gloomy north sky to the left, lightnings flash + revealing rugged heights in that quarter. From the heights comes + to the ear the tramp of soldiery, broke and irregular, as by + obstacles in their descent; as yet they are some distance off. + On heights to the right hand, on the other side of the river, + glimmer the bivouac fires of the French under MARMONT. The + lightning quickens, with rolls of thunder, and a few large drops + of rain fall. + + A sentinel stands close to the ford, and beyond him is the ford- + house, a shed open towards the roadway and the spectator. It is + lit by a single lantern, and occupied by some half-dozen English + dragoons with a sergeant and corporal, who form part of a mounted + patrol, their horses being picketed at the entrance. They are + seated on a bench, and appear to be waiting with some deep intent, + speaking in murmurs only. + + The thunderstorm increases till it drowns the noise of the ford + and of the descending battalions, making them seem further off + than before. The sentinel is about to retreat to the shed when + he discerns two female figures in the gloom. Enter MRS. DALBIAC + and MRS. PRESCOTT, English officers wives.] + + + SENTINEL + + Where there's war there's women, and where there's women there's + trouble! [Aloud] Who goes there? + + + MRS. DALBIAC + + We must reveal who we are, I fear [to her companion]. Friends! + [to sentinel]. + + + SENTINEL + + Advance and give the countersign. + + + MRS. DALBIAC + + Oh, but we can't! + + + SENTINEL + + Consequent which, you must retreat. By Lord Wellington's strict + regulations, women of loose character are to be excluded from the + lines for moral reasons, namely, that they are often employed by + the enemy as spies. + + + MRS. PRESCOTT + + Dear good soldier, we are English ladies benighted, having mistaken + our way back to Salamanca, and we want shelter from the storm. + + + MRS. DALBIAC + + If it is necessary I will say who we are.--I am Mrs. Dalbiac, wife + of the Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fourth Light Dragoons, and this + lady is the wife of Captain Prescott of the Seventh Fusileers. We + went out to Christoval to look for our husbands, but found the army + had moved. + + + SENTINEL [incredulously] + + “Wives!” Oh, not to-day! I have heard such titles of courtesy + afore; but they never shake me. “W” begins other female words than + “wives!”--You'll have trouble, good dames, to get into Salamanca + to-night. You'll be challenged all the way down, and shot without + clergy if you can't give the countersign. + + + MRS. PRESCOTT + + Then surely you'll tell us what it is, good kind man! + + + SENTINEL + + Well--have ye earned enough to pay for knowing? Government wage is + poor pickings for watching here in the rain. How much can ye stand? + + + MRS. DALBIAC + + Half-a-dozen pesetas. + + + SENTINEL + + Very well, my dear. I was always tender-hearted. Come along. + [They advance and hand the money.] The pass to-night is “Melchester + Steeple.” That will take you into the town when the weather clears. + You won't have to cross the ford. You can get temporary shelter in + the shed there. + + [As the ladies move towards the shed the tramp of the infantry + draws near the ford, which the downfall has made to purl more + boisterously. The twain enter the shed, and the dragoons look + up inquiringly.] + + + MRS. DALBIAC [to dragoons] + + The French are luckier than you are, men. You'll have a wet advance + across this ford, but they have a dry retreat by the bridge at Alba. + + + SERGEANT OF PATROL [starting from a doze] + + The moustachies a dry retreat? Not they, my dear. A Spanish + garrison is in the castle that commands the bridge at Alba. + + + MRS. DALBIAC + + A peasant told us, if we understood rightly, that he saw the Spanish + withdraw, and the enemy place a garrison there themselves. + + [The sergeant hastily calls up two troopers, who mount and ride off + with the intelligence.] + + + SERGEANT + + You've done us a good turn, it is true, darlin'. Not that Lord + Wellington will believe it when he gets the news.... Why, if my + eyes don't deceive me, ma'am, that's Colonel Dalbiac's lady! + + + MRS. DALBIAC + + Yes, sergeant. I am over here with him, as you have heard, no doubt, + and lodging in Salamanca. We lost our way, and got caught in the + storm, and want shelter awhile. + + + SERGEANT + + Certainly, ma'am. I'll give you an escort back as soon as the + division has crossed and the weather clears. + + + MRS. PRESCOTT [anxiously] + + Have you heard, sergeant, if there's to be a battle to-morrow? + + + SERGEANT + + Yes, ma'am. Everything shows it. + + + MRS. DAlBIAC [to MRS. PRESCOTT] + + Our news would have passed us in. We have wasted six pesetas. + + + MRS. PRESCOTT [mournfully] + + I don't mind that so much as that I have brought the children from + Ireland. This coming battle frightens me! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + This is her prescient pang of widowhood. + Ere Salamanca clang to-morrow's close + She'll find her consort stiff among the slain! + + [The infantry regiments now reach the ford. The storm increases + in strength, the stream flows more furiously; yet the columns of + foot enter it and begin crossing. The lightning is continuous; + the faint lantern in the ford-house is paled by the sheets of + fire without, which flap round the bayonets of the crossing men + and reflect upon the foaming torrent.] + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + The skies fling flame on this ancient land! + And drenched and drowned is the burnt blown sand + That spreads its mantle of yellow-grey + Round old Salmantica to-day; + While marching men come, band on band, + Who read not as a reprimand + To mortal moils that, as 'twere planned + In mockery of their mimic fray, + The skies fling flame. + + Since sad Coruna's desperate stand + Horrors unsummed, with heavy hand, + Have smitten such as these! But they + Still headily pursue their way, + Though flood and foe confront them, and + The skies fling flame. + + [The whole of the English division gets across by degrees, and + their invisible tramp is heard ascending the opposite heights as + the lightnings dwindle and the spectacle disappears.] + + + + SCENE III + + THE FIELD OF SALAMANCA + + [The battlefield--an undulating and sandy expanse--is lying + under the sultry sun of a July afternoon. In the immediate + left foreground rises boldly a detached dome-like hill known + as the Lesser Arapeile, now held by English troops. Further + back, and more to the right, rises another and larger hill of + the kind--the Greater Arapeile; this is crowned with French + artillery in loud action, and the French marshal, MARMONT, Duke + of RAGUSA, stands there. Further to the right, in the same + plane, stretch the divisions of the French army. Still further + to the right, in the distance, on the Ciudad Rodrigo highway, a + cloud of dust denotes the English baggage-train seeking security + in that direction. The city of Salamanca itself, and the river + Tormes on which it stands, are behind the back of the spectator. + + On the summit of the lesser hill, close at hand, WELLINGTON, glass + at eye, watches the French division under THOMIERE, which has become + separated from the centre of the French army. Round and near him + are aides and other officers, in animated conjecture on MARMONT'S + intent, which appears to be a move on the Ciudad Rodrigo road + aforesaid, under the impression that the English are about to + retreat that way. + + The English commander descends from where he was standing to a nook + under a wall, where a meal is roughly laid out. Some of his staff + are already eating there. WELLINGTON takes a few mouthfuls without + sitting down, walks back again, and looks through his glass at the + battle as before. Balls from the French artillery fall around. + Enter his aide-de-camp, FITZROY SOMERSET.] + + + FITZROY SOMERSET [hurriedly] + + The French make movements of grave consequence-- + Extending to the left in mass, my lord. + + + WELLINGTON + + I have just perceived as much; but not the cause. + [He regards longer.] + Marmont's good genius is deserting him! + + [Shutting up his glass with a snap, WELLINGTON calls several aides + and despatches them down the hill. He goes back behind the wall + and takes some more mouthfuls.] + + By God, Fitzroy, if we shan't do it now! + [to SOMERSET]. + Mon cher Alava, Marmont est perdu! + [to his SPANISH ATTACHE]. + + + FITZROY SOMERSET + + Thinking we mean to attack on him, + He schemes to swoop on our retreating-line. + + + WELLINGTON + + Ay; and to cloak it by this cannonade. + With that in eye he has bundled leftwardly + Thomiere's division; mindless that thereby + His wing and centre's mutual maintenance + Has gone, and left a yawning vacancy. + So be it. Good. His laxness is our luck! + + [As a result of the orders sent off by the aides, several British + divisions advance across the French front on the Greater Arapeile + and elsewhere. The French shower bullets into them; but an English + brigade under PACK assails the nearer French on the Arapeile, now + beginning to cannonade the English in the hollows beneath. + + Light breezes blow toward the French, and they get in their faces + the dust-clouds and smoke from the masses of English in motion, and + a powerful sun in their eyes. + + MARMONT and his staff are sitting on the top of the Greater Arapeile + only half a cannon-shot from WELLINGTON on the Lesser; and, like + WELLINGTON, he is gazing through his glass. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + Appearing to behold the full-mapped mind + Of his opponent, Marmont arrows forth + Aide after aide towards the forest's rim, + To spirit on his troops emerging thence, + And prop the lone division Thomiere, + For whose recall his voice has rung in vain. + Wellington mounts and seeks out Pakenham, + Who pushes to the arena from the right, + And, spurting to the left of Marmont's line, + Shakes Thomiere with lunges leonine. + + When the manoeuvre's meaning hits his sense, + Marmont hies hotly to the imperilled place, + Where see him fall, sore smitten.--Bonnet rides + And dons the burden of the chief command, + Marking dismayed the Thomiere column there + Shut up by Pakenham like bellows-folds + Against the English Fourth and Fifth hard by; + And while thus crushed, Dragoon-Guards and Dragoons, + Under Le Marchant's hands [of Guernsey he], + Are launched upon them by Sir Stapleton, + And their scathed files are double-scathed anon. + + Cotton falls wounded. Pakenham's bayoneteers + Shape for the charge from column into rank; + And Thomiere finds death thereat point-blank! + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + In fogs of dust the cavalries hoof the ground; + Their prancing squadrons shake the hills around: + Le Marchant's heavies bear with ominous bound + Against their opposites! + + SEMICHORUS II + + A bullet crying along the cloven air + Gouges Le Marchant's groin and rankles there; + In Death's white sleep he soon joins Thomiere, + And all he has fought for, quits! + + [In the meantime the battle has become concentrated in the middle + hollow, and WELLINGTON descends thither from the English Arapeile. + + The fight grows fiercer. COLE and LEITH now fall wounded; then + BERESFORD, who directs the Portuguese, is struck down and borne + away. On the French side fall BONNET who succeeded MARMONT in + command, MANNE, CLAUSEL, and FEREY, the last hit mortally. + + Their disordered main body retreats into the forest and disappears; + and just as darkness sets in, the English stand alone on the crest, + the distant plain being lighted only by musket-flashes from the + vanquishing enemy. In the close foreground vague figures on + horseback are audible in the gloom. + + + VOICE OF WELLINGTON + + I thought they looked as they'd be scurrying soon! + + + VOICE OF AN AIDE + + Foy bears into the wood in middling trim; + Maucune strikes out for Alba-Castle bridge. + + + VOICE OF WELLINGTON + + Speed the pursuit, then, towards the Huerta ford; + Their only scantling of escape lies there; + The river coops them semicircle-wise, + And we shall have them like a swathe of grass + Within a sickle's curve! + + + VOICE OF AIDE + + Too late, my lord. + They are crossing by the aforesaid bridge at Alba. + + + VOICE OF WELLINGTON + + Impossible. The guns of Carlos rake it + Sheer from the castle walls. + + + VOICE OF AIDE + + Tidings have sped + Just now therefrom, to this undreamed effect: + That Carlos has withdrawn the garrison: + The French command the Alba bridge themselves! + + + VOICE OF WELLINGTON + + Blast him, he's disobeyed his orders, then! + How happened this? How long has it been known? + + + VOICE OF AIDE + + Some ladies some few hours have rumoured it, + But unbelieved. + + + VOICE OF WELLINGTON + + Well, what's done can't be undone.... + By God, though, they've just saved themselves thereby + From capture to a man! + + + VOICE OF A GENERAL + + We've not struck ill, + Despite this slip, my lord.... And have you heard + That Colonel Dalbiac's wife rode in the charge + Behind her spouse to-day? + + + VOICE OF WELLINGTON + + Did she though: did she! + Why that must be Susanna, whom I know-- + A Wessex woman, blithe, and somewhat fair.... + Not but great irregularities + Arise from such exploits.--And was it she + I noticed wandering to and fro below here, + Just as the French retired? + + + VOICE OF ANOTHER OFFICER + + Ah no, my lord. + That was the wife of Prescott of the Seventh, + Hoping beneath the heel of hopelessness, + As these young women will!--Just about sunset + She found him lying dead and bloody there, + And in the dusk we bore them both away.[18] + + + VOICE OF WELLINGTON + + Well, I'm damned sorry for her. Though I wish + The women-folk would keep them to the rear: + Much awkwardness attends their pottering round! + + [The talking shapes disappear, and as the features of the field + grow undistinguishable the comparative quiet is broken by gay + notes from guitars and castanets in the direction of the city, + and other sounds of popular rejoicing at Wellington's victory. + People come dancing out from the town, and the merry-making + continues till midnight, when it ceases, and darkness and silence + prevail everywhere.] + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + What are Space and Time? A fancy!-- + Lo, by Vision's necromancy + Muscovy will now unroll; + Where for cork and olive-tree + Starveling firs and birches be. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Though such features lie afar + From events Peninsular, + These, amid their dust and thunder, + Form with those, as scarce asunder, + Parts of one compacted whole. + + + CHORUS + + Marmont's aide, then, like a swallow + Let us follow, follow, follow, + Over hill and over hollow, + Past the plains of Teute and Pole! + + [There is semblance of a sound in the darkness as of a rushing + through the air.] + + + + SCENE IV + + THE FIELD OF BORODINO + + [Borodino, seventy miles west of Moscow, is revealed in a bird's- + eye view from a point above the position of the French Grand Army, + advancing on the Russian capital. + + We are looking east, towards Moscow and the army of Russia, which + bars the way thither. The sun of latter summer, sinking behind + our backs, floods the whole prospect, which is mostly wild, + uncultivated land with patches of birch-trees. NAPOLEON'S army + has just arrived on the scene, and is making its bivouac for the + night, some of the later regiments not having yet come up. A + dropping fire of musketry from skirmishers ahead keeps snapping + through the air. The Emperor's tent stands in a ravine in the + foreground amid the squares of the Old Guard. Aides and other + officers are chatting outside. + + Enter NAPOLEON, who dismounts, speaks to some of his suite, and + disappears inside his tent. An interval follows, during which the + sun dips. + + Enter COLONEL FABVRIER, aide-de-camp of MARMONT, just arrived from + Spain. An officer-in-waiting goes into NAPOLEON'S tent to announce + FABVRIER, the Colonel meanwhile talking to those outside.] + + + AN AIDE + + Important tidings thence, I make no doubt? + + + FABVRIER + + Marmont repulsed on Salamanca field, + And well-nigh slain, is the best tale I bring! + + [A silence. A coughing heard in NAPOLEON'S tent.] + + Whose rheumy throat distracts the quiet so? + + + AIDE + + The Emperor's. He is thus the livelong day. + + [COLONEL FABVRIER is shown into the tent. An interval. Then the + husky accents of NAPOLEON within, growing louder and louder.] + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON + + If Marmont--so I gather from these lines-- + Had let the English and the Spanish be, + They would have bent from Salamanca back, + Offering no battle, to our profiting! + We should have been delivered this disaster, + Whose bruit will harm us more than aught besides + That has befallen in Spain! + + + VOICE OF FABVRIER + + I fear so, sire. + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON + + He forced a conflict, to cull laurel crowns + Before King Joseph should arrive to share them! + + + VOICE OF FABVRIER + + The army's ardour for your Majesty, + Its courage, its devotion to your cause, + Cover a myriad of the Marshal's sins. + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON + + Why gave he battle without biddance, pray, + From the supreme commander? Here's the crime + Of insubordination, root of woes!... + The time well chosen, and the battle won, + The English succours there had sidled off, + And their annoy in the Peninsula + Embarrassed us no more. Behoves it me, + Some day, to face this Wellington myself! + Marmont too plainly is no match for him.... + Thus he goes on: “To have preserved command + I would with joy have changed this early wound + For foulest mortal stroke at fall of day. + One baleful moment damnified the fruit + Of six weeks' wise strategics, whose result + Had loomed so certain!”--[Satirically] Well, we've but his word + As to their wisdom! To define them thus + Would not have struck me but for his good prompting!... + No matter: On Moskowa's banks to-morrow + I'll mend his faults upon the Arapeile. + I'll see how I can treat this Russian horde + Which English gold has brought together here + From the four corners of the universe.... + Adieu. You'd best go now and take some rest. + + [FABVRIER reappears from the tent and goes. Enter DE BAUSSET.] + + + DE BAUSSET + + The box that came--has it been taken in? + + + AN OFFICER + + Yes, General 'Tis laid behind a screen + In the outer tent. As yet his Majesty + Has not been told of it. + + [DE BAUSSET goes into the tent. After an interval of murmured + talk an exclamation bursts from the EMPEROR. In a few minutes he + appears at the tent door, a valet following him bearing a picture. + The EMPEROR'S face shows traces of emotion.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Bring out a chair for me to poise it on. + + [Re-enter DE BAUSSET from the tent with a chair.] + + They all shall see it. Yes, my soldier-sons + Must gaze upon this son of mine own house + In art's presentment! It will cheer their hearts. + That's a good light--just so. + + [He is assisted by DE BAUSSET to set up the picture in the chair. + It is a portrait of the young King of Rome playing at cup-and-ball + being represented as the globe. The officers standing near are + attracted round, and then the officers and soldiers further back + begin running up, till there is a great crowd.] + + Let them walk past, + So that they see him all. The Old Guard first. + + [The Old Guard is summoned, and marches past surveying the picture; + then other regiments.] + + + SOLDIERS + + The Emperor and the King of Rome for ever! + + [When they have marched past and withdrawn, and DE BAUSSET has + taken away the picture, NAPOLEON prepares to re-enter his tent. + But his attention is attracted to the Russians. He regards them + through his glass. Enter BESSIERES and RAPP.] + + + NAPOLEON + + What slow, weird ambulation do I mark, + Rippling the Russian host? + + + BESSIERES + + A progress, sire, + Of all their clergy, vestmented, who bear + An image, said to work strange miracles. + + [NAPOLEON watches. The Russian ecclesiastics pass through the + regiments, which are under arms, bearing the icon and other + religious insignia. The Russian soldiers kneel before it.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Ay! Not content to stand on their own strength, + They try to hire the enginry of Heaven. + I am no theologian, but I laugh + That men can be so grossly logicless, + When war, defensive or aggressive either, + Is in its essence pagan, and opposed + To the whole gist of Christianity! + + + BESSIERES + + 'Tis to fanaticize their courage, sire. + + + NAPOLEON + + Better they'd wake up old Kutuzof.--Rapp, + What think you of to-morrow? + + + RAPP + + Victory; + But, sire, a bloody one! + + + NAPOLEON + + So I foresee. + + [The scene darkens, and the fires of the bivouacs shine up ruddily, + those of the French near at hand, those of the Russians in a long + line across the mid-distance, and throwing a flapping glare into + the heavens. As the night grows stiller the ballad-singing and + laughter from the French mixes with a slow singing of psalms from + their adversaries. + + The two multitudes lie down to sleep, and all is quiet but for + the sputtering of the green wood fires, which, now that the human + tongues are still, seem to hold a conversation of their own.] + + + + SCENE V + + THE SAME + + [The prospect lightens with dawn, and the sun rises red. The + spacious field of battle is now distinct, its ruggedness being + bisected by the great road from Smolensk to Moscow, which runs + centrally from beneath the spectator to the furthest horizon. + The field is also crossed by the stream Kalotcha, flowing from + the right-centre foreground to the left-centre background, thus + forming an “X” with the road aforesaid, intersecting it in mid- + distance at the village of Borodino. + + Behind this village the Russians have taken their stand in close + masses. So stand also the French, who have in their centre the + Shevardino redoubt beyond the Kalotcha. Here NAPOLEON, in his + usual glue-grey uniform, white waistcoat, and white leather + breeches, chooses his position with BERTHIER and other officers + of his suite.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + It is six o'clock, and the firing of a single cannon on the French + side proclaims that the battle is beginning. There is a roll of + drums, and the right-centre masses, glittering in the level shine, + advance under NEY and DAVOUT and throw themselves on the Russians, + here defended by redoubts. + + The French enter the redoubts, whereupon a slim, small man, GENERAL + BAGRATION, brings across a division from the Russian right and expels + them resolutely. + + Semenovskoye is a commanding height opposite the right of the French, + and held by the Russians. Cannon and columns, infantry and cavalry, + assault it by tens of thousands, but cannot take it. + + Aides gallop through the screeching shot and haze of smoke and dust + between NAPOLEON and his various marshals. The Emperor walks about, + looks through his glass, goes to a camp-stool, on which he sits down, + and drinks glasses of spirits and hot water to relieve his still + violent cold, as may be discovered from his red eyes, raw nose, + rheumatic manner when he moves, and thick voice in giving orders. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + So he fulfils the inhuman antickings + He thinks imposed upon him.... What says he? + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + He says it is the sun of Austerlitz! + + + The Russians, so far from being driven out of their redoubts, + issue from them towards the French. But they have to retreat, + BAGRATION and his Chief of Staff being wounded. NAPOLEON sips + his grog hopefully, and orders a still stronger attack on the + great redoubt in the centre. + + It is carried out. The redoubt becomes the scene of a huge + massacre. In other parts of the field also the action almost + ceases to be a battle, and takes the form of wholesale butchery + by the thousand, now advantaging one side, now the other. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Thus do the mindless minions of the spell + In mechanized enchantment sway and show + A Will that wills above the will of each, + Yet but the will of all conjunctively; + A fabric of excitement, web of rage, + That permeates as one stuff the weltering whole. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + The ugly horror grossly regnant here + Wakes even the drowsed half-drunken Dictator + To all its vain uncouthness! + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + Murat cries + That on this much-anticipated day + Napoleon's genius flags inoperative. + + + The firing from the top of the redoubt has ceased. The French have + got inside. The Russians retreat upon their rear, and fortify + themselves on the heights there. PONIATOWSKI furiously attacks them. + But the French are worn out, and fall back to their station before + the battle. So the combat dies resultlessly away. The sun sets, and + the opposed and exhausted hosts sink to lethargic repose. NAPOLEON + enters his tent in the midst of his lieutenants, and night descends. + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + The fumes of nitre and the reek of gore + Make my airs foul and fulsome unto me! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + The natural nausea of a nurse, dear Dame. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + Strange: even within that tent no notes of joy + Throb as at Austerlitz! [signifying Napoleon's tent]. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + But mark that roar-- + A mash of men's crazed cries entreating mates + To run them through and end their agony; + Boys calling on their mothers, veterans + Blaspheming God and man. Those shady shapes + Are horses, maimed in myriads, tearing round + In maddening pangs, the harnessings they wear + Clanking discordant jingles as they tear! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + It is enough. Let now the scene be closed. + + + The night thickens. + + + + SCENE VI + + MOSCOW + + [The foreground is an open place amid the ancient irregular streets + of the city, which disclose a jumble of architectural styles, the + Asiatic prevailing over the European. A huge triangular white- + walled fortress rises above the churches and coloured domes on a + hill in the background, the central feature of which is a lofty + tower with a gilded cupola, the Ivan Tower. Beneath the battlements + of this fortress the Moskva River flows. + + An unwonted rumbling of wheels proceeds from the cobble-stoned + streets, accompanied by an incessant cracking of whips.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + Travelling carriages, teams, and waggons, laden with pictures, + carpets, glass, silver, china, and fashionable attire, are rolling + out of the city, followed by foot-passengers in streams, who carry + their most precious possessions on their shoulders. Others bear + their sick relatives, caring nothing for their goods, and mothers + go laden with their infants. Others drive their cows, sheep, and + goats, causing much obstruction. Some of the populace, however, + appear apathetic and bewildered, and stand in groups asking questions. + + A thin man with piercing eyes gallops about and gives stern orders. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Whose is the form seen ramping restlessly, + Geared as a general, keen-eyed as a kite, + Mid this mad current of close-filed confusion; + High-ordering, smartening progress in the slow, + And goading those by their own thoughts o'er-goaded; + Whose emissaries knock at every door + In rhythmal rote, and groan the great events + The hour is pregnant with? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Rostopchin he, + The city governor, whose name will ring + Far down the forward years uncannily! + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + His arts are strange, and strangely do they move him:-- + To store the stews with stuffs inflammable, + To bid that pumps be wrecked, captives enlarged + And primed with brands for burning, are the intents + His warnings to the citizens outshade! + + + When the bulk of the populace has passed out eastwardly the Russian + army retreating from Borodino also passes through the city into the + country beyond without a halt. They mostly move in solemn silence, + though many soldiers rush from their ranks and load themselves with + spoil. + + When they are got together again and have marched out, there goes by + on his horse a strange scarred old man with a foxy look, a swollen + neck and head and a hunched figure. He is KUTUZOF, surrounded by + his lieutenants. Away in the distance by other streets and bridges + with other divisions pass in like manner GENERALS BENNIGSEN, BARCLAY + DE TOLLY, DOKHTOROF, the mortally wounded BAGRATION in a carriage, and + other generals, all in melancholy procession one way, like autumnal + birds of passage. Then the rear-guard passes under MILORADOVITCH. + + Next comes a procession of another kind. + + A long string of carts with wounded men is seen, which trails out of + the city behind the army. Their clothing is soiled with dried blood, + and the bandages that enwrap them are caked with it. + + The greater part of this migrant multitude takes the high road to + Vladimir. + + + + SCENE VII + + THE SAME. OUTSIDE THE CITY + + [A hill forms the foreground, called the Hill of Salutation, near + the Smolensk road. + + Herefrom the city appears as a splendid panorama, with its river, + its gardens, and its curiously grotesque architecture of domes and + spires. It is the peacock of cities to Western eyes, its roofs + twinkling in the rays of the September sun, amid which the ancient + citadel of the Tsars--the Kremlin--forms a centre-piece. + + There enter on the hill at a gallop NAPOLEON, MURAT, EUGENE, NEY, + DARU, and the rest of the Imperial staff. The French advance- + guard is drawn up in order of battle at the foot of the hill, and + the long columns of the Grand Army stretch far in the rear. The + Emperor and his marshals halt, and gaze at Moscow.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Ha! There she is at last. And it was time. + + [He looks round upon his army, its numbers attenuated to one-fourth + of those who crossed the Niemen so joyfully.] + + Yes: it was time.... NOW what says Alexander! + + + DARU + + This is a foil to Salamanca, sire! + + + DAVOUT + + What scores of bulbous church-tops gild the sky! + Souls must be rotten in this region, sire, + To need so much repairing! + + + NAPOLEON + + Ay--no doubt.... + Prithee march briskly on, to check disorder, + [to Murat]. + Hold word with the authorities forthwith, + [to Durasnel]. + Tell them that they may swiftly swage their fears, + Safe in the mercy I by rule extend + To vanquished ones. I wait the city keys, + And will receive the Governor's submission + With courtesy due. Eugene will guard the gate + To Petersburg there leftward. You, Davout, + The gate to Smolensk in the centre here + Which we shall enter by. + + + VOICES OF ADVANCE-GUARD + + Moscow! Moscow! + This, this is Moscow city. Rest at last! + + [The words are caught up in the rear by veterans who have entered + every capital in Europe except London, and are echoed from rank to + rank. There is a far-extended clapping of hands, like the babble + of waves, and companies of foot run in disorder towards high ground + to behold the spectacle, waving their shakos on their bayonets. + + The army now marches on, and NAPOLEON and his suite disappear + citywards from the Hill of Salutation. + + The day wanes ere the host has passed and dusk begins to prevail, + when tidings reach the rear-guard that cause dismay. They have + been sent back lip by lip from the front.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + An anticlimax to Napoleon's dream! + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + They say no governor attends with keys + To offer his submission gracefully. + The streets are solitudes, the houses sealed, + And stagnant silence reigns, save where intrudes + The rumbling of their own artillery wheels, + And their own soldiers' measured tramp along. + “Moscow deserted? What a monstrous thing!”-- + He shrugs his shoulders soon, contemptuously; + “This, then is how Muscovy fights!” cries he. + + Meanwhile Murat has reached the Kremlin gates, + And finds them closed against him. Battered these, + The fort reverberates vacant as the streets + But for some grinning wretches gaoled there. + Enchantment seems to sway from quay to keep, + And lock commotion in a century's sleep. + + [NAPOLEON, reappearing in front of the city, follows MURAT, and is + again lost to view. He has entered the Kremlin. An interval. + Something becomes visible on the summit of the Ivan Tower.] + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music] + + Mark you thereon a small lone figure gazing + Upon his hard-gained goal? It is He! + The startled crows, their broad black pinions raising, + Forsake their haunts, and wheel disquietedly. + + [The scene slowly darkens. Midnight hangs over the city. In + blackness to the north of where the Kremlin stands appears what at + first seems a lurid, malignant star. It waxes larger. Almost + simultaneously a north-east wind rises, and the light glows and + sinks with the gusts, proclaiming a fire, which soon grows large + enough to irradiate the fronts of adjacent buildings, and to show + that it is creeping on towards the Kremlin itself, the walls of + that fortress which face the flames emerging from their previous + shade. + + The fire can be seen breaking out also in numerous other quarters. + All the conflagrations increase, and become, as those at first + detached group themselves together, one huge furnace, whence + streamers of flame reach up to the sky, brighten the landscape + far around, and show the houses as if it were day. The blaze + gains the Kremlin, and licks its walls, but does not kindle it. + Explosions and hissings are constantly audible, amid which can be + fancied cries and yells of people caught in the combustion. Large + pieces of canvas aflare sail away on the gale like balloons. + Cocks crow, thinking it sunrise, ere they are burnt to death.] + + + + SCENE VIII + + THE SAME. THE INTERIOR OF THE KREMLIN + + [A chamber containing a bed on which NAPOLEON has been lying. It + is not yet daybreak, and the flapping light of the conflagration + without shines in at the narrow windows. + + NAPOLEON is discovered dressed, but in disorder and unshaven. He + is walking up and down the room in agitation. There are present + CAULAINCOURT, BESSIERES, and many of the marshals of his guard, + who stand in silent perplexity.] + + + NAPOLEON [sitting down on the bed] + + No: I'll not go! It is themselves who have done it. + My God, they are Scythians and barbarians still! + + [Enter MORTIER [just made Governor].] + + + MORTIER + + Sire, there's no means of fencing with the flames. + My creed is that these scurvy Muscovites + Knowing our men's repute for recklessness, + Have fired the town, as if 'twere we had done it, + As by our own crazed act! + + [GENERAL LARIBOISIERE, and aged man, enters and approaches + NAPOLEON.] + + + LARIBOISIERE + + The wind swells higher! + Will you permit one so high-summed in years, + One so devoted, sire, to speak his mind? + It is that your long lingering here entails + Much risk for you, your army, and ourselves, + In the embarrassment it throws on us + While taking steps to seek security, + By hindering venturous means. + + [Enter MURAT, PRINCE EUGENE, and the PRINCE OF NEUFCHATEL.] + + + MURAT + + There is no choice + But leaving, sire. Enormous bulks of powder + Lie housed beneath us; and outside these panes + A park of our artillery stands unscreened. + + + NAPOLEON [saturninely] + + What have I won I disincline to cede! + + + VOICE OF A GUARD [without] + + The Kremlin is aflame! + + [The look at each other. Two officers of NAPOLEON'S guard and an + interpreter enter, with one of the Russian military police as a + prisoner.] + + + FIRST OFFICER + + We have caught this man + Firing the Kremlin: yea, in the very act! + It is extinguished temporarily, + We know not for how long. + + + NAPOLEON + + Inquire of him + What devil set him on. [They inquire.] + + + SECOND OFFICER + + The governor, + He says; the Count Rostopchin, sire. + + + NAPOLEON + + So! Even the ancient Kremlin is not sanct + From their infernal scheme! Go, take him out; + Make him a quick example to the rest. + + [Exeunt guard with their prisoner to the court below, whence a + musket-volley resounds in a few minutes. Meanwhile the flames + pop and spit more loudly, and the window-panes of the room they + stand in crack and fall in fragments.] + + Incendiarism afoot, and we unware + Of what foul tricks may follow, I will go. + Outwitted here, we'll march on Petersburg, + The Devil if we won't! + + [The marshals murmur and shake their heads.] + + + BESSIERES + + Your pardon, sire, + But we are all convinced that weather, time, + Provisions, roads, equipment, mettle, mood, + Serve not for such a perilous enterprise. + + [NAPOLEON remains in gloomy silence. Enter BERTHIER.] + + + NAPOLEON [apathetically] + + Well, Berthier. More misfortunes? + + + BERTHIER + + News is brought, + Sire, of the Russian army's whereabouts. + That fox Kutuzof, after marching east + As if he were conducting his whole force + To Vladimir, when at the Riazan Road + Down-doubled sharply south, and in a curve + Has wheeled round Moscow, making for Kalouga, + To strike into our base, and cut us off. + + + MURAT + + Another reason against Petersburg! + Come what come may, we must defeat that army, + To keep a sure retreat through Smolensk on + To Lithuania. + + + NAPOLEON [jumping up] + + I must act! We'll leave, + Or we shall let this Moscow be our tomb. + May Heaven curse the author of this war-- + Ay, him, that Russian minister, self-sold + To England, who fomented it.--'Twas he + Dragged Alexander into it, and me! + + [The marshals are silent with looks of incredulity, and Caulaincourt + shrugs his shoulders.] + + Now no more words; but hear. Eugene and Ney + With their divisions fall straight back upon + The Petersburg and Zwenigarod Roads; + Those of Davout upon the Smolensk route. + I will retire meanwhile to Petrowskoi. + Come, let us go. + + [NAPOLEON and the marshals move to the door. In leaving, the + Emperor pauses and looks back.] + + I fear that this event + Marks the beginning of a train of ills.... + Moscow was meant to be my rest, + My refuge, and--it vanishes away! + + [Exeunt NAPOLEON, marshals, etc. The smoke grows denser and + obscures the scene.] + + + + SCENE IX + + THE ROAD FROM SMOLENSKO INTO LITHUANIA + + [The season is far advanced towards winter. The point of observation + is high amongst the clouds, which, opening and shutting fitfully to + the wind, reveal the earth as a confused expanse merely.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Where are we? And why are we where we are? + + + SHADE OF THE EARTH + + Above a wild waste garden-plot of mine + Nigh bare in this late age, and now grown chill, + Lithuania called by some. I gather not + Why we haunt here, where I can work no charm + Either upon the ground or over it. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + The wherefore will unfold. The rolling brume + That parts, and joins, and parts again below us + In ragged restlessness, unscreens by fits + The quality of the scene. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + I notice now + Primeval woods, pine, birch--the skinny growths + That can sustain life well where earth affords + But sustenance elsewhere yclept starvation. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + And what see you on the far land-verge there, + Labouring from eastward towards our longitude? + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + An object like a dun-piled caterpillar, + Shuffling its length in painful heaves along, + Hitherward.... Yea, what is this Thing we see + Which, moving as a single monster might, + Is yet not one but many? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Even the Army + Which once was called the Grand; now in retreat + From Moscow's muteness, urged by That within it; + Together with its train of followers-- + Men, matrons, babes, in brabbling multitudes. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + And why such flight? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Recording Angels, say. + + + RECORDING ANGEL I [in minor plain-song] + + The host has turned from Moscow where it lay, + And Israel-like, moved by some master-sway, + Is made to wander on and waste away! + + + ANGEL II + + By track of Tarutino first it flits; + Thence swerving, strikes at old Jaroslawitz; + The which, accurst by slaughtering swords, it quits. + + + ANGEL I + + Harassed, it treads the trail by which it came, + To Borodino, field of bloodshot fame, + Whence stare unburied horrors beyond name! + + + ANGEL II + + And so and thus it nears Smolensko's walls, + And, stayed its hunger, starts anew its crawls, + Till floats down one white morsel, which appals. + + [What has floated down from the sky upon the Army is a flake of + snow. Then come another and another, till natural features, + hitherto varied with the tints of autumn, are confounded, and all + is phantasmal grey and white. + + The caterpillar shape still creeps laboriously nearer, but instead, + increasing in size by the rules of perspective, it gets more + attenuated, and there are left upon the ground behind it minute + parts of itself, which are speedily flaked over, and remain as + white pimples by the wayside.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + These atoms that drop off are snuffed-out souls + Who are enghosted by the caressing snow. + + [Pines rise mournfully on each side of the nearing object; ravens + in flocks advance with it overhead, waiting to pick out the eyes + of strays who fall. The snowstorm increases, descending in tufts + which can hardly be shaken off. The sky seems to join itself to + the land. The marching figures drop rapidly, and almost immediately + become white grave-mounds. + + Endowed with enlarged powers of audition as of vision, we are struck + by the mournful taciturnity that prevails. Nature is mute. Save + for the incessant flogging of the wind-broken and lacerated horses + there are no sounds. + + With growing nearness more is revealed. In the glades of the forest, + parallel to the French columns, columns of Russians are seen to be + moving. And when the French presently reach Krasnoye they are + surrounded by packs of cloaked Cossacks, bearing lances like huge + needles a dozen feet long. The fore-part of the French army gets + through the town; the rear is assaulted by infantry and artillery.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + The strange, one-eyed, white-shakoed, scarred old man, + Ruthlessly heading every onset made, + I seem to recognize. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Kutuzof he: + The ceaselessly-attacked one, Michael Ney; + A pair as stout as thou, Earth, ever hast twinned! + Kutuzof, ten years younger, would extirp + The invaders, and our drama finish here, + With Bonaparte a captive or a corpse. + But he is old; death even has beckoned him; + And thus the so near-seeming happens not. + + [NAPOLEON himself can be discerned amid the rest, marching on foot + through the snowflakes, in a fur coat and with a stout staff in his + hand. Further back NEY is visible with the remains of the rear. + + There is something behind the regular columns like an articulated + tail, and as they draw on, it shows itself to be a disorderly rabble + of followers of both sexes. So the whole miscellany arrives at the + foreground, where it is checked by a large river across the track. + The soldiers themselves, like the rabble, are in motley raiment, + some wearing rugs for warmth, some quilts and curtains, some even + petticoats and other women's clothing. Many are delirious from + hunger and cold. + + But they set about doing what is a necessity for the least hope of + salvation, and throw a bridge across the stream. + + The point of vision descends to earth, close to the scene of action.] + + + + SCENE X + + THE BRIDGE OF THE BERESINA + + [The bridge is over the Beresina at Studzianka. On each side of + the river are swampy meadows, now hard with frost, while further + back are dense forests. Ice floats down the deep black stream in + large cakes.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + The French sappers are working up to their shoulders in the water at + the building of the bridge. Those so immersed work till, stiffened + with ice to immobility, they die from the chill, when others succeed + them. + + Cavalry meanwhile attempt to swim their horses across, and some + infantry try to wade through the stream. + + Another bridge is begun hard by, the construction of which advances + with greater speed; and it becomes fit for the passage of carriages + and artillery. + + NAPOLEON is seen to come across to the homeward bank, which is the + foreground of the scene. A good portion of the army also, under + DAVOUT, NEY, and OUDINOT, lands by degrees on this side. But + VICTOR'S corps is yet on the left or Moscow side of the stream, + moving toward the bridge, and PARTONNEAUX with the rear-guard, who + has not yet crossed, is at Borissow, some way below, where there is + an old permanent bridge partly broken. + + Enter with speed from the distance the Russians under TCHAPLITZ. + More under TCHICHAGOFF enter the scene down the river on the left + or further bank, and cross by the old bridge of Borissow. But they + are too far from the new crossing to intercept the French as yet. + + PLATOFF with his Cossacks next appears on the stage which is to be + such a tragic one. He comes from the forest and approaches the left + bank likewise. So also does WITTGENSTEIN, who strikes in between + the uncrossed VICTOR and PARTONNEAUX. PLATOFF thereupon descends + on the latter, who surrenders with the rear-guard; and thus seven + thousand more are cut off from the already emaciated Grand Army. + + TCHAPLITZ, of TCHICHAGOFF'S division, has meanwhile got round by the + old bridge at Borissow to the French side of the new one, and attacks + OUDINOT; but he is repulsed with the strength of despair. The French + lose a further five thousand in this. + + We now look across the river at VICTOR, and his division, not yet + over, and still defending the new bridges. WITTGENSTEIN descends + upon him; but he holds his ground. + + The determined Russians set up a battery of twelve cannon, so as to + command the two new bridges, with the confused crowd of soldiers, + carriages, and baggage, pressing to cross. The battery discharges + into the surging multitude. More Russians come up, and, forming a + semicircle round the bridges and the mass of French, fire yet more + hotly on them with round shot and canister. As it gets dark the + flashes light up the strained faces of the fugitives. Under the + discharge and the weight of traffic, the bridge for the artillery + gives way, and the throngs upon it roll shrieking into the stream + and are drowned. + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + So loudly swell their shrieks as to be heard above the roar of guns + and the wailful wind, + Giving in one brief cry their last wild word on that mock life + through which they have harlequined! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + To the other bridge the living heap betakes itself, the weak pushed + over by the strong; + They loop together by their clutch like snakes; in knots they + are submerged and borne along. + + + CHORUS + + Then women are seen in the waterflow--limply bearing their + infants between wizened white arms stretching above; + Yea, motherhood, sheerly sublime in her last despairing, and + lighting her darkest declension with limitless love. + + + Meanwhile, TCHICHAGOFF has come up with his twenty-seven thousand men, + and falls on OUDINOT, NEY, and the “Sacred Squadron.” Altogether we + see forty or fifty thousand assailing eighteen thousand half-naked, + badly armed wretches, emaciated with hunger and encumbered with + several thousands of sick, wounded, and stragglers. + + VICTOR and his rear-guard, who have protected the bridges all day, + come over themselves at last. No sooner have they done so than the + final bridge is set on fire. Those who are upon it burn or drown; + those who are on the further side have lost their last chance, and + perish either in attempting to wade the stream or at the hands of + the Russians. + + + SEMICHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + What will be seen in the morning light? + What will be learnt when the spring breaks bright, + And the frost unlocks to the sun's soft sight? + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Death in a thousand motley forms; + Charred corpses hooking each other's arms + In the sleep that defies all war's alarms! + + + CHORUS + + Pale cysts of souls in every stage, + Still bent to embraces of love or rage,-- + Souls passed to where History pens no page. + + + The flames of the burning bridge go out as it consumes to the water's + edge, and darkness mantles all, nothing continuing but the purl of + the river and the clickings of floating ice. + + + + SCENE XI + + THE OPEN COUNTRY BETWEEN SMORGONI AND WILNA + + [The winter is more merciless, and snow continues to fall upon a + deserted expanse of unenclosed land in Lithuania. Some scattered + birch bushes merge in a forest in the background. + + It is growing dark, though nothing distinguishes where the sun + sets. There is no sound except that of a shuffling of feet in + the direction of a bivouac. Here are gathered tattered men like + skeletons. Their noses and ears are frost-bitten, and pus is + oozing from their eyes. + + These stricken shades in a limbo of gloom are among the last + survivors of the French army. Few of them carry arms. One squad, + ploughing through snow above their knees, and with icicles dangling + from their hair that clink like glass-lustres as they walk, go + into the birch wood, and are heard chopping. They bring back + boughs, with which they make a screen on the windward side, and + contrive to light a fire. With their swords they cut rashers from + a dead horse, and grill them in the flames, using gunpowder for + salt to eat them with. Two others return from a search, with a + dead rat and some candle-ends. Their meal shared, some try to + repair their gaping shoes and to tie up their feet, that are + chilblained to the bone. + + A straggler enters, who whispers to one or two soldiers of the + group. A shudder runs through them at his words.] + + + FIRST SOLDIER [dazed] + + What--gone, do you say? Gone? + + + STRAGGLER + + Yes, I say gone! + He left us at Smorgoni hours ago. + The Sacred Squadron even he has left behind. + By this time he's at Warsaw or beyond, + Full pace for Paris. + + + SECOND SOLDIER [jumping up wildly] + + Gone? How did he go? + No, surely! He could not desert us so! + + + STRAGGLER + + He started in a carriage, with Roustan + The Mameluke on the box: Caulaincourt, too, + Was inside with him. Monton and Duroc + Rode on a sledge behind.--The order bade + That we should not be told it for a while. + + [Other soldiers spring up as they realize the news, and stamp + hither and thither, impotent with rage, grief, and despair, many + in their physical weakness sobbing like children.] + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Good. It is the selfish and unconscionable characters who are so much + regretted. + + + STRAGGLER + + He felt, or feigned, he ought to leave no longer + A land like Prussia 'twixt himself and home. + There was great need for him to go, he said, + To quiet France, and raise another army + That shall replace our bones. + + + SEVERAL [distractedly] + + Deserted us! + Deserted us!--O, after all our pangs + We shall see France no more! + + [Some become insane, and go dancing round. One of them sings.] + + + MAD SOLDIER'S SONG + + I + Ha, for the snow and hoar! + Ho, for our fortune's made! + We can shape our bed without sheets to spread, + And our graves without a spade. + So foolish Life adieu, + And ingrate Leader too. + --Ah, but we loved you true! + Yet--he-he-he! and ho-ho-ho-!-- + We'll never return to you. + + II + + What can we wish for more? + Thanks to the frost and flood + We are grinning crones--thin bags of bones + Who once were flesh and blood. + So foolish Life adieu, + And ingrate Leader too. + --Ah, but we loved you true! + Yet--he-he-he! and ho-ho-ho!-- + We'll never return to you. + + [Exhausted, they again crouch round the fire. Officers and + privates press together for warmth. Other stragglers arrive, and + sit at the backs of the first. With the progress of the night the + stars come out in unusual brilliancy, Sirius and those in Orion + flashing like stilettos; and the frost stiffens. + + The fire sinks and goes out; but the Frenchmen do not move. The + day dawns, and still they sit on. + + In the background enter some light horse of the Russian army, + followed by KUTUZOF himself and a few of his staff. He presents + a terrible appearance now--bravely serving though slowly dying, + his face puffed with the intense cold, his one eye staring out as + he sits in a heap in the saddle, his head sunk into his shoulders. + The whole detachment pauses at the sight of the French asleep. + They shout; but the bivouackers give no sign. + + + KUTUZOF + + Go, stir them up! We slay not sleeping men. + + [The Russians advance and prod the French with their lances.] + + + RUSSIAN OFFICER + + Prince, here's a curious picture. They are dead. + + + KUTUZOF [with indifference] + + Oh, naturally. After the snow was down + I marked a sharpening of the air last night. + We shall be stumbling on such frost-baked meat + Most of the way to Wilna. + + + OFFICER [examining the bodies] + + They all sit + As they were living still, but stiff as horns; + And even the colour has not left their cheeks, + Whereon the tears remain in strings of ice.-- + It was a marvel they were not consumed: + Their clothes are cindered by the fire in front, + While at their back the frost has caked them hard. + + + KUTUZOF + + 'Tis well. So perish Russia's enemies! + + [Exeunt KUTUZOF, his staff, and the detachment of horse in the + direction of Wilna; and with the advance of day the snow resumes + its fall, slowly burying the dead bivouackers.] + + + + SCENE XII + + PARIS. THE TUILERIES + + [An antechamber to the EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE'S bedroom, at half-past + eleven on a December night. The DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO and another + lady-in-waiting are discovered talking to the Empress.] + + + MARIE LOUISE + + I have felt unapt for anything to-night, + And I will now retire. + + [She goes into her child's room adjoining.] + + + DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO + + For some long while + There has come no letter from the Emperor, + And Paris brims with ghastly rumourings + About the far campaign. Not being beloved, + The town is over dull for her alone. + + [Re-enter MARIE LOUISE.] + + + MARIE LOUISE + + The King of Rome is sleeping in his cot + Sweetly and safe. Now, ladies, I am going. + + [She withdraws. Her tiring-women pass through into her chamber. + They presently return and go out. A manservant enters, and bars + the window-shutters with numerous bolts. Exit manservant. The + Duchess retires. The other lady-in-waiting rises to go into her + bedroom, which adjoins that of the Empress. + + Men's voices are suddenly heard in the corridor without. The lady- + in-waiting pauses with parted lips. The voices grow louder. The + lady-in-waiting screams. + + MARIE LOUISE hastily re-enters in a dressing-gown thrown over her + night-clothes.] + + + MARIE LOUISE + + Great God, what altercation can that be? + I had just verged on sleep when it aroused me! + + [A thumping is heard at the door.] + + + VOICE OF NAPOLEON [without] + + Hola! Pray let me in! Unlock the door! + + + LADY-IN-WAITING + + Heaven's mercy on us! What man may it be + At such and hour as this? + + + MARIE LOUISE + + O it is he! + + + [The lady-in-waiting unlocks the door. NAPOLEON enters, scarcely + recognizable, in a fur cloak and hood over his ears. He throws + off the cloak and discloses himself to be in the shabbiest and + muddiest attire. Marie Louise is agitated almost to fainting.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Is it with fright or joy? + + + MARIE LOUISE + + I scarce believe + What my sight tells me! Home, and in such garb! + + [NAPOLEON embraces her.] + + + NAPOLEON + + I have had great work in getting in, my dear! + They failed to recognize me at the gates, + Being sceptical at my poor hackney-coach + And poorer baggage. I had to show my face + In a fierce light ere they would let me pass, + And even then they doubted till I spoke.-- + What think you, dear, of such a tramp-like spouse? + [He warms his hands at the fire.] + Ha--it is much more comfortable here + Than on the Russian plains! + + + MARIE LOUISE [timidly] + + You have suffered there?-- + Your face is thinner, and has line in it; + No marvel that they did not know you! + + + NAPOLEON + + Yes: + Disasters many and swift have swooped on me!-- + Since crossing--ugh!--the Beresina River + I have been compelled to come incognito; + Ay--as a fugitive and outlaw quite. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + We'll thank Heaven, anyhow, that you are safe. + I had gone to bed, and everybody almost! + what, now, do require? Some food of course? + + [The child in the adjoining chamber begins to cry, awakened by the + loud tones of NAPOLEON.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Ah--that's his little voice! I'll in and see him. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + I'll come with you. + + [NAPOLEON and the EMPRESS pass into the other room. The lady-in- + waiting calls up yawning servants and gives orders. The servants + go to execute them. Re-enter NAPOLEON and MARIE LOUISE. The lady- + in-waiting goes out.] + + + NAPOLEON + + I have said it, dear! + All the disasters summed in the bulletin + Shall be repaired. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + And are they terrible? + + + NAPOLEON + + Have you not read the last-sent bulletin, + Dear friend? + + + MARIE LOUISE + + No recent bulletin has come. + + + NAPOLEON + + Ah--I must have outstripped it on the way! + + + MARIE LOUISE + + And where is the Grand Army? + + + NAPOLEON + + Oh--that's gone. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + Gone? But--gone where? + + + NAPOLEON + + Gone all to nothing, dear. + + + MARIE LOUISE [incredulously] + + But some six hundred thousand I saw pass + Through Dresden Russia-wards? + + + NAPOLEON [flinging himself into a chair] + + Well, those men lie-- + Or most of them--in layers of bleaching bones + 'Twixt here and Moscow.... I have been subdued; + But by the elements; and them alone. + Not Russia, but God's sky has conquered me! + [With an appalled look she sits beside him.] + From the sublime to the ridiculous + There's but a step!--I have been saying it + All through the leagues of my long journey home-- + And that step has been passed in this affair!... + Yes, briefly, it is quite ridiculous, + Whichever way you look at it.--Ha, ha! + + + MARIE LOUISE [simply] + + But those six hundred thousand throbbing throats + That cheered me deaf at Dresden, marching east + So full of youth and spirits--all bleached bones-- + Ridiculous? Can it be so, dear, to-- + Their mothers say? + + + NAPOLEON [with a twitch of displeasure] + + You scarcely understand. + I meant the enterprise, and not its stuff.... + I had no wish to fight, nor Alexander, + But circumstance impaled us each on each; + The Genius who outshapes my destinies + Did all the rest! Had I but hit success, + Imperial splendour would have worn a crown + Unmatched in long-scrolled Time!... Well, leave that now.-- + What do they know about all this in Paris? + + + MARIE LOUSE + + I cannot say. Black rumours fly and croak + Like ravens through the streets, but come to me + Thinned to the vague!--Occurrences in Spain + Breed much disquiet with these other things. + Marmont's defeat at Salamanca field + Ploughed deep into men's brows. The cafes say + Your troops must clear from Spain. + + + NAPOLEON + + We'll see to that! + I'll find a way to do a better thing; + Though I must have another army first-- + Three hundred thousand quite. Fishes as good + Swim in the sea as have come out of it. + But to begin, we must make sure of France, + Disclose ourselves to the good folk of Paris + In daily outing as a family group, + The type and model of domestic bliss + [Which, by the way, we are]. And I intend, + Also, to gild the dome of the Invalides + In best gold leaf, and on a novel pattern. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + To gild the dome, dear? Why? + + + NAPOLEON + + To give them something + To think about. They'll take to it like children, + And argue in the cafes right and left + On its artistic points.--So they'll forget + The woes of Moscow. + + [A chamberlain-in-waiting announces supper. MARIE LOUISE and + NAPOLEON go out. The room darkens and the scene closes.] + + + + +ACT SECOND + + + SCENE I + + THE PLAIN OF VITORIA + + [It is the eve of the longest day of the year; also the eve of the + battle of Vitoria. The English army in the Peninsula, and their + Spanish and Portuguese allies, are bivouacking on the western side + of the Plain, about six miles from the town. + + On some high ground in the left mid-distance may be discerned the + MARQUIS OF WELLINGTON'S tent, with GENERALS HILL, PICTON, PONSONBY, + GRAHAM, and others of his staff, going in and out in consultation + on the momentous event impending. Near the foreground are some + hussars sitting round a fire, the evening being damp; their horses + are picketed behind. In the immediate front of the scene are some + troop-officers talking.] + + + FIRST OFFICER + + This grateful rest of four-and-twenty hours + Is priceless for our jaded soldiery; + And we have reconnoitred largely, too; + So the slow day will not have slipped in vain. + + + SECOND OFFICER [looking towards the headquarter tent] + + By this time they must nearly have dotted down + The methods of our master-stroke to-morrow: + I have no clear conception of its plan, + Even in its leading lines. What is decided? + + + FIRST OFFICER + + There are outshaping three supreme attacks, + As I decipher. Graham's on the left, + To compass which he crosses the Zadorra, + And turns the enemy's right. On our right, Hill + Will start at once to storm the Puebla crests. + The Chief himself, with us here in the centre, + Will lead on by the bridges Tres-Puentes + Over the ridge there, and the Mendoza bridge + A little further up.--That's roughly it; + But much and wide discretionary power + Is left the generals all. + + [The officers walk away, and the stillness increases, so the + conversation at the hussars' bivouac, a few yards further back, + becomes noticeable.] + + + SERGEANT YOUNG[19] + + I wonder, I wonder how Stourcastle is looking this summer night, and + all the old folks there! + + + SECOND HUSSAR + + You was born there, I think I've heard ye say, Sergeant? + + + SERGEANT YOUNG + + I was. And though I ought not to say it, as father and mother are + living there still, 'tis a dull place at times. Now Budmouth-Regis + was exactly to my taste when we were there with the Court that + summer, and the King and Queen a-wambling about among us like the + most everyday old man and woman you ever see. Yes, there was plenty + going on, and only a pretty step from home. Altogether we had a + fine time! + + + THIRD HUSSAR + + You walked with a girl there for some weeks, Sergeant, if my memory + serves? + + + SERGEANT YOUNG + + I did. And a pretty girl 'a was. But nothing came on't. A month + afore we struck camp she married a tallow-chandler's dipper of Little + Nicholas Lane. I was a good deal upset about it at the time. But + one gets over things! + + + SECOND HUSSAR + + 'Twas a low taste in the hussy, come to that.--Howsomever, I agree + about Budmouth. I never had pleasanter times than when we lay there. + You had a song on it, Sergeant, in them days, if I don't mistake? + + + SERGEANT YOUNG + + I had; and have still. 'Twas made up when we left by our bandmaster + that used to conduct in front of Gloucester Lodge at the King's Mess + every afternoon. + + [The Sergeant is silent for a minute, then suddenly bursts into + melody.] + + + SONG “BUDMOUTH DEARS” + + I + + When we lay where Budmouth Beach is, + O, the girls were fresh as peaches, + With their tall and tossing figures and their eyes of blue + and brown! + And our hearts would ache with longing + As we paced from our sing-songing, + With a smart CLINK! CLINK! up the Esplanade and down + + + II + + They distracted and delayed us + By the pleasant pranks they played us, + And what marvel, then, if troopers, even of regiments of renown, + On whom flashed those eyes divine, O, + Should forget the countersign, O, + As we tore CLINK! CLINK! back to camp above the town. + + + III + + Do they miss us much, I wonder, + Now that war has swept us sunder, + And we roam from where the faces smile to where the faces frown? + And no more behold the features + Of the fair fantastic creatures, + And no more CLINK! CLINK! past the parlours of the town? + + + IV + + Shall we once again there meet them? + Falter fond attempts to greet them? + Will the gay sling-jacket[20] glow again beside the muslin gown?-- + Will they archly quiz and con us + With a sideways glance upon us, + While our spurs CLINK! CLINK! up the Esplanade and down? + + [Applause from the other hussars. More songs are sung, the night + gets darker, the fires go out, and the camp sleeps.] + + + + SCENE II + + THE SAME, FROM THE PUEBLA HEIGHTS + + [It is now day; but a summer fog pervades the prospect. Behind + the fog is heard the roll of bass and tenor drums and the clash + of cymbals, with notes of the popular march “The Downfall of Paris.” + + By degrees the fog lifts, and the Plain is disclosed. From this + elevation, gazing north, the expanse looks like the palm of a + monstrous right hand, a little hollowed, some half-dozen miles + across, wherein the ball of the thumb is roughly represented by + heights to the east, on which the French centre has gathered; the + “Mount of Mars” and the “Moon” [the opposite side of the palm] by + the position of the English on the left or west of the plain; + and the “Line of Life” by the Zadorra, an unfordable river running + from the town down the plain, and dropping out of it through a + pass in the Puebla Heights to the south, just beneath our point + of observation--that is to say, toward the wrist of the supposed + hand. The left of the English army under GRAHAM would occupy the + “mounts” at the base of the fingers; while the bent finger-tips + might represent the Cantabrian Hills beyond the plain to the north + or back of the scene. + + From the aforesaid stony crests of Puebla the white town and + church towers of Vitoria can be descried on a slope to the right- + rear of the field of battle. A warm rain succeeds the fog for a + short while, bringing up the fragrant scents from fields, vineyards, + and gardens, now in the full leafage of June.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + All the English forces converge forward--that is, eastwardly--the + centre over the ridges, the right through the Pass to the south, the + left down the Bilbao road on the north-west, the bands of the divers + regiments striking up the same quick march, “The Downfall of Paris.” + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + You see the scene. And yet you see it not. + What do you notice now? + + + There immediately is shown visually the electric state of mind that + animates WELLINGTON, GRAHAM, HILL, KEMPT, PICTON, COLVILLE, and other + responsible ones on the British side; and on the French KING JOSEPH + stationary on the hill overlooking his own centre, and surrounded by + a numerous staff that includes his adviser MARSHAL JOURDAN, with, + far away in the field, GAZAN, D'ERLON, REILLE, and other marshals. + This vision, resembling as a whole the interior of a beating brain + lit by phosphorescence, in an instant fades back to normal. + + + Anon we see the English hussars with their flying pelisses galloping + across the Zadorra on one of the Tres-Puentes in the midst of the + field, as had been planned, the English lines in the foreground under + HILL pushing the enemy up the slopes; and far in the distance, to the + left of Vitoria, whiffs of grey smoke followed by low rumbles show + that the left of the English army under GRAHAM is pushing on there. + + Bridge after bridge of the half-dozen over the Zadorra is crossed by + the British; and WELLINGTON, in the centre with PICTON, seeing the + hill and village of Arinez in front of him [eastward] to be weakly + held, carries the regiments of the seventh and third divisions in a + quick run towards it. Supported by the hussars, they ultimately + fight their way to the top, in a chaos of smoke, flame, and booming + echoes, loud-voiced PICTON, in an old blue coat and round hat, + swearing as he goes. + + Meanwhile the French who are opposed to the English right, in the + foreground, have been turned by HILL; the heights are all abandoned, + and the columns fall back in a confused throng by the road to + Vitoria, hard pressed by the British, who capture abandoned guns + amid indescribable tumult, till the French make a stand in front + of the town. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + What's toward in the distance?--say! + + + SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS [aerial music] + + Fitfully flash strange sights there; yea, + Unwonted spectacles of sweat and scare + Behind the French, that make a stand + With eighty cannon, match in hand.-- + Upon the highway from the town to rear + An eddy of distraction reigns, + Where lumbering treasure, baggage-trains, + Padding pedestrians, haze the atmosphere. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Men, women, and their children fly, + And when the English over-high + Direct their death-bolts, on this billowy throng + Alight the too far-ranging balls, + Wringing out piteous shrieks and calls + From the pale mob, in monotones loud and long. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + To leftward of the distant din + Reille meantime has been driven in + By Graham's measure overmastering might.-- + Henceforward, masses of the foe + Withdraw, and, firing as they go, + Pass rightwise from the cockpit out of sight. + + + CHORUS + + The sunset slants an ochreous shine + Upon the English knapsacked line, + Whose glistering bayonets incline + As bends the hot pursuit across the plain; + And tardily behind them goes + Too many a mournful load of those + Found wound-weak; while with stealthy crawl, + As silence wraps the rear of all, + Cloaked creatures of the starlight strip the slain. + + + + SCENE III + + THE SAME. THE ROAD FROM THE TOWN + + [With the going down of the sun the English army finds itself in + complete possession of the mass of waggons and carriages distantly + beheld from the rear--laden with pictures, treasure, flour, + vegetables, furniture, finery, parrots, monkeys, and women--most + of the male sojourners in the town having taken to their heels + and disappeared across the fields. + + The road is choked with these vehicles, the women they carry + including wives, mistresses, actresses, dancers, nuns, and + prostitutes, which struggle through droves of oxen, sheep, goats, + horses, asses, and mules-- a Noah's-ark of living creatures in + one vast procession. + + There enters rapidly in front of this throng a carriage containing + KING JOSEPH BONAPARTE and an attendant, followed by another vehicle + with luggage.] + + + JOSEPH [inside carriage] + + The bare unblinking truth hereon is this: + The Englishry are a pursuing army, + And we a flying brothel! See our men-- + They leave their guns to save their mistresses! + + [The carriage is fired upon from outside the scene. The KING leaps + from the vehicle and mounts a horse. + + Enter at full gallop from the left CAPTAIN WYNDHAM and a detachment + of the Tenth Hussars in chase of the King's carriage; and from the + right a troop of French dragoons, who engage with the hussars and + hinder pursuit. Exit KING JOSEPH on horseback; afterwards the + hussars and dragoons go out fighting. + + The British infantry enter irregularly, led by a sergeant of the + Eighty-seventh, mockingly carrying MARSHAL JOURDAN'S baton. The + crowd recedes. The soldiers ransack the King's carriages, cut + from their frames canvases by Murillo, Velasquez, and Zurbaran, + and use them as package-wrappers, throwing the papers and archives + into the road. + + They next go to a waggon in the background, which contains a large + chest. Some of the soldiers burst it with a crash. It is full of + money, which rolls into the road. The soldiers begin scrambling, + but are restored to order; and they march on. + + Enter more companies of infantry, out of control of their officers, + who are running behind. They see the dollars, and take up the + scramble for them; next ransacking other waggons and abstracting + therefrom uniforms, ladies raiment, jewels, plate, wines, and + spirits. + + Some array them in the finery, and one soldier puts on a diamond + necklace; others load themselves with the money still lying about + the road. It begins to rain, and a private who has lost his kit + cuts a hole in the middle of a deframed old master, and, putting + it over his head, wears it as a poncho. + + Enter WELLINGTON and others, grimy and perspiring.] + + + FIRST OFFICER + + The men are plundering in all directions! + + + WELLINGTON + + Let 'em. They've striven long and gallantly. + --What documents do I see lying there? + + + SECOND OFFICER [examining] + + The archives of King Joseph's court, my lord; + His correspondence, too, with Bonaparte. + + + WELLINGTON + + We must examine it. It may have use. + + [Another company of soldiers enters, dragging some equipages that + have lost their horses by the traces being cut. The carriages + contain ladies, who shriek and weep at finding themselves captives.] + + What women bring they there? + + + THIRD OFFICER + + Mixed sorts, my lord. + The wives of many young French officers, + The mistresses of more--in male attire. + Yon elegant hussar is one, to wit; + She so disguised is of a Spanish house,-- + One of the general's loves. + + + WELLINGTON + + Well, pack them off + To-morrow to Pamplona, as you can; + We've neither list nor leisure for their charms. + By God, I never saw so many wh---s + In all my life before! + + [Exeunt WELLINGTON, officers, and infantry. A soldier enters with + his arm round a lady in rich costume.] + + + SOLDIER + + We must be married, my dear. + + + LADY [not knowing his language] + + Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life! + + + SOLDIER + + There's neither parson nor clerk here. But that don't matter--hey? + + + LADY + + Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life! + + + SOLDIER + + And if we've got to unmarry at cockcrow, why, so be it--hey? + + + LADY + + Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life! + + + SOLDIER + + A sensible 'ooman, whatever it is she says; that I can see by her + pretty face. Come along then, my dear. There'll be no bones broke, + and we'll take our lot with Christian resignation. + + [Exeunt soldier and lady. The crowd thins away as darkness closes + in, and the growling of artillery ceases, though the wheels of the + flying enemy are still heard in the distance. The fires kindled + by the soldiers as they make their bivouacs blaze up in the gloom, + and throw their glares a long way, revealing on the slopes of the + hills many suffering ones who have not yet been carried in. + The last victorious regiment comes up from the rear, fifing and + drumming ere it reaches its resting-place the last bars of “The + Downfall of Paris”:-- + + Transcriber's Note: There follows in musical notation four bars + from that song in 2/4 time, key of C-- + + \\E EF G F\E EF G F\E EC D DB\C \\ + + + + SCENE IV + + A FETE AT VAUXHALL + + [It is the Vitoria festival at Vauxhall. The orchestra of the + renowned gardens exhibits a blaze of lamps and candles arranged + in the shape of a temple, a great artificial sun glowing at the + top, and under it in illuminated characters the words “Vitoria” + and “Wellington.” The band is playing the new air “The Plains + of Vitoria.” + + All round the colonnade of the rotunda are to be read in the + illumination the names of Peninsular victories, underneath them + figuring the names of British and Spanish generals who led at + those battles, surmounted by wreaths of laurel The avenues + stretching away from the rotunda into the gardens charm the eyes + with their mild multitudinous lights, while festoons of lamps + hang from the trees elsewhere, and transparencies representing + scenes from the war. + + The gardens and saloons are crowded, among those present being the + KING'S sons--the DUKES OF YORK, CLARENCE, KENT, and CAMBRIDGE-- + Ambassadors, peers, and peeresses, and other persons of quality, + English and foreign. + + In the immediate foreground on the left hand is an alcove, the + interior of which is in comparative obscurity. Two foreign + attaches enter it and sit down.] + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + Ah--now for the fireworks. They are under the direction of Colonel + Congreve. + + [At the end of an alley, purposely kept dark, fireworks are + discharged.] + + + SECOND ATTACHE + + Very good: very good.--This looks like the Duke of Sussex coming in, + I think. Who the lady is with him I don't know. + + [Enter the DUKE OF SUSSEX in a Highland dress, attended by several + officers in like attire. He walks about the gardens with LADY + CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL.] + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + People have been paying a mighty price for tickets--as much as + fifteen guineas has been offered, I hear. I had to walk up to the + gates; the number of coaches struggling outside prevented my driving + near. It was as bad as the battle of Vitoria itself. + + + SECOND ATTACHE + + So Wellington is made Field-Marshal for his achievement. + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + Yes. By the by, you have heard of the effect of the battle upon + the Conference at Reichenbach?--that Austria is to join Russia and + Prussia against France? So much for Napoleon's marriage! I wonder + what he thinks of his respected father-in-law now. + + + SECOND ATTACHE + + Of course, an enormous subsidy is paid to Francis by Great Britain + for this face-about? + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + Yes. As Bonaparte says, English guineas are at the bottom of + everything!--Ah, here comes Caroline. + + [The PRINCESS OF WALES arrives, attended by LADY ANNE HAMILTON + and LADY GLENBERVIE. She is conducted forward by the DUKE OF + GLOUCESTER and COLONEL ST. LEDGER, and wears a white satin train + with a dark embroidered bodice, and a green wreath with diamonds. + + Repeated hurrahs greet her from the crowd. She bows courteously.] + + + SECOND ATTACHE + + The people are staunch for her still!... You heard, sir, what + Austrian Francis said when he learnt of Vitoria?--“A warm climate + seems to agree with my son-in-law no better than a cold one.” + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + Ha-ha-ha! + Marvellous it is how this loud victory + Has couched the late blind Europe's Cabinets. + Would I could spell precisely what was phrased + 'Twixt Bonaparte and Metternich at Dresden-- + Their final word, I ween, till God knows when!-- + + + SECOND ATTACHE + + I own to feeling it a sorry thing + That Francis should take English money down + To throw off Bonaparte. 'Tis sordid, mean! + He is his daughter's husband after all. + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + Ay; yes!... They say she knows not of it yet. + + + SECOND ATTACHE + + Poor thing, I daresay it will harry her + When all's revealed. But the inside o't is, + Since Castlereagh's return to power last year + Vienna, like Berlin and Petersburg, + Has harboured England's secret emissaries, + Primed, purse in hand, with the most lavish sums + To knit the league to drag Napoleon down.... + [More fireworks.] That's grand.--Here comes one Royal item more. + + [The DUCHESS OF YORK enters, attended by her ladies and by the + HON. B. CRAVEN and COLONEL BARCLAY. She is received with signals + of respect.] + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + She calls not favour forth as Caroline can! + + + SECOND ATTACHE + + To end my words:--Though happy for this realm, + Austria's desertion frankly is, by God, + Rank treachery! + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + Whatever it is, it means + Two hundred thousand swords for the Allies, + And enemies in batches for Napoleon + Leaping from unknown lairs.--Yes, something tells me + That this is the beginning of the end + For Emperor Bonaparte! + + [The PRINCESS OF WALES prepares to leave. An English diplomatist + joins the attaches in the alcove. The PRINCESS and her ladies go + out.] + + + DIPLOMATIST + + I saw you over here, and I came round. Cursed hot and crowded, isn't + it? + + + SECOND ATTACHE + + What is the Princess leaving so soon for? + + + DIPLOMATIST + + Oh, she has not been received in the Royal box by the other members + of the Royal Family, and it has offended her, though she was told + beforehand that she could not be. Poor devil! Nobody invited her + here. She came unasked, and she has gone unserved. + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + We shall have to go unserved likewise, I fancy. The scramble at the + buffets is terrible. + + + DIPLOMATIST + + And the road from here to Marsh Gate is impassable. Some ladies have + been sitting in their coaches for hours outside the hedge there. We + shall not get home till noon to-morrow. + + + A VOICE [from the back] + + Take care of your watches! Pickpockets! + + + FIRST ATTACHE + + Good. That relieves the monotony a little. + + [Excitement in the throng. When it has subsided the band strikes + up a country dance, and stewards with white ribbons and laurel + leaves are seen bustling about.] + + + SECOND ATTACHE + + Let us go and look at the dancing. It is “Voulez-vous danser”--no, + it is not,--it is “Enrico”--two ladies between two gentlemen. + + [They go from the alcove.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + From this phantasmagoria let us roam + To the chief wheel and capstan of the show, + Distant afar. I pray you closely read + What I reveal--wherein each feature bulks + In measure with its value humanly. + + [The beholder finds himself, as it were, caught up on high, and + while the Vauxhall scene still dimly twinkles below, he gazes + southward towards Central Europe--the contorted and attenuated + ecorche of the Continent appearing as in an earlier scene, but + now obscure under the summer stars.] + + Three cities loom out large: Vienna there, + Dresden, which holds Napoleon, over here, + And Leipzig, whither we shall shortly wing, + Out yonderwards. 'Twixt Dresden and Vienna + What thing do you discern? + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Something broad-faced, + Flat-folded, parchment-pale, and in its shape + Rectangular; but moving like a cloud + The Dresden way. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Yet gaze more closely on it. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + The object takes a letter's lineaments + Though swollen to mainsail measure,--magically, + I gather from your words; and on its face + Are three vast seals, red--signifying blood + Must I suppose? It moves on Dresden town, + And dwarfs the city as it passes by.-- + You say Napoleon's there? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + The document, + Sized to its big importance, as I told, + Bears in it formal declaration, signed, + Of war by Francis with his late-linked son, + The Emperor of France. Now let us go + To Leipzig city, and await the blow. + + [A chaotic gloom ensues, accompanied by a rushing like that of a + mighty wind.] + + + + +ACT THIRD + + + SCENE I + + LEIPZIG. NAPOLEON'S QUARTERS IN THE REUDNITZ SUBURB + + [The sitting-room of a private mansion. Evening. A large stove- + fire and candles burning. The October wind is heard without, and + the leaded panes of the old windows shake mournfully.] + + + SEMICHORUS I OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music] + + We come; and learn as Time's disordered dear sands run + That Castlereagh's diplomacy has wiled, waxed, won. + The beacons flash the fevered news to eyes keen bent + That Austria's formal words of war are shaped, sealed, sent. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + So; Poland's three despoilers primed by Bull's gross pay + To stem Napoleon's might, he waits the weird dark day; + His proffered peace declined with scorn, in fell force then + They front him, with yet ten-score thousand more massed men. + + [At the back of the room CAULAINCOURT, DUKE OF VICENZA, and + JOUANNE, one of Napoleon's confidential secretaries, are unpacking + and laying out the Emperor's maps and papers. In the foreground + BERTHIER, MURAT, LAURISTON, and several officers of Napoleon's + suite, are holding a desultory conversation while they await his + entry. Their countenances are overcast.] + + + MURAT + + At least, the scheme of marching on Berlin + Is now abandoned. + + + LAURISTON + + Not without high words: + He yielded and gave order prompt for Leipzig + But coldness and reserve have marked his mood + Towards us ever since. + + + BERTHIER + + The march hereto + He has looked on as a retrogressive one, + And that, he ever holds, is courting woe. + To counsel it was doubtless full of risk, + And heaped us with responsibilities; + --Yet 'twas your missive, sire, that settled it [to MURAT]. + How stirred he was! “To Leipzig, or Berlin?” + He kept repeating, as he drew and drew + Fantastic figures on the foolscap sheet,-- + “The one spells ruin--t'other spells success, + And which is which?” + + + MURAT [stiffly] + + What better could I do? + So far were the Allies from sheering off + As he supposed, that they had moved in march + Full fanfare hither! I was duty-bound + To let him know. + + + LAURISTON + + Assuming victory here, + If he should let the advantage slip him by + As on the Dresden day, he wrecks us all! + 'Twas damnable--to ride back from the fight + Inside a coach, as though we had not won! + + + CAULAINCOURT [from the back] + + The Emperor was ill: I have ground for knowing. + + [NAPOLEON enters.] + + + NAPOLEON [buoyantly] + + Comrades, the outlook promises us well! + + + MURAT [dryly] + + Right glad are we you tongue such tidings, sire. + To us the stars have visaged differently; + To wit: we muster outside Leipzig here + Levies one hundred and ninety thousand strong. + The enemy has mustered, OUTSIDE US, + Three hundred and fifty thousand--if not more. + + + NAPOLEON + + All that is needful is to conquer them! + We are concentred here: they lie a-spread, + Which shrinks them to two-hundred-thousand power:-- + Though that the urgency of victory + Is absolute, I admit. + + + MURAT + + Yea; otherwise + The issue will be worse than Moscow, sire! + + [MARMONT, DUKE OF RAGUSA [Wellington's adversary in Spain], is + announced, and enters.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Ah, Marmont; bring you in particulars? + + + MARMONT + + Some sappers I have taken captive, sire, + Say the Allies will be at stroke with us + The morning next to to-morrow's.--I am come, + Now, from the steeple-top of Liebenthal, + Where I beheld the enemy's fires bespot + The horizon round with raging eyes of flame:-- + My vanward posts, too, have been driven in, + And I need succours--thrice ten thousand, say. + + + NAPOLEON [coldly] + + The enemy vexes not your vanward posts; + You are mistaken.--Now, however, go; + Cross Leipzig, and remain as the reserve.-- + Well, gentlemen, my hope herein is this: + The first day to annihilate Schwarzenberg, + The second Blücher. So shall we slip the toils + They are all madding to enmesh us in. + + + BERTHIER + + Few are our infantry to fence with theirs! + + + NAPOLEON [cheerfully] + + We'll range them in two lines instead of three, + And so we shall look stronger by one-third. + + + BERTHIER [incredulously] + + Can they be thus deceived, sire? + + + NAPOLEON + + Can they? Yes! + With all my practice I can err in numbers + At least one-quarter; why not they one-third? + Anyhow, 'tis worth trying at a pinch.... + + [AUGEREAU is suddenly announced.] + + Good! I've not seen him yet since he arrived. + + [Enter AUGEREAU. + + Here you are then at last, old Augereau! + You have been looked for long.--But you are no more + The Augereau of Castiglione days! + + + AUGEREAU + + Nay, sire! I still should be the Augereau + Of glorious Castiglione, could you give + The boys of Italy back again to me! + + + NAPOLEON + + Well, let it drop.... Only I notice round me + An atmosphere of scopeless apathy + Wherein I do not share. + + + AUGEREAU + + There are reasons, sire, + Good reasons for despondence! As I came + I learnt, past question, that Bavaria + Swerves on the very pivot of desertion. + This adds some threescore thousand to our foes. + + + NAPOLEON [irritated] + + That consummation long has threatened us!... + Would that you showed the steeled fidelity + You used to show! Except me, all are slack! + [To Murat] Why, even you yourself, my brother-in-law, + Have been inclining to abandon me! + + + MURAT [vehemently] + + I, sire? It is not so. I stand and swear + The grievous imputation is untrue. + You should know better than believe these things, + And well remember I have enemies + Who ever wait to slander me to you! + + + NAPOLEON [more calmly] + + Ah yes, yes. That is so.--And yet--and yet + You have deigned to weigh the feasibility + Of treating me as Austria has done!... + But I forgive you. You are a worthy man; + You feel real friendship for me. You are brave. + Yet I was wrong to make a king of you. + If I had been content to draw the line + At vice-king, as with young Eugene, no more, + As he has laboured you'd have laboured, too! + But as full monarch, you have foraged rather + For your own pot than mine! + + [MURAT and the marshal are silent, and look at each other with + troubled countenances. NAPOLEON goes to the table at the back, and + bends over the charts with CAULAINCOURT, dictating desultory notes + to the secretaries.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + A seer might say + This savours of a sad Last-Supper talk + 'Twixt his disciples and this Christ of war! + + [Enter an attendant.] + + + ATTENDANT + + The Saxon King and Queen and the Princess + Enter the city gates, your Majesty. + They seek the shelter of the civic walls + Against the risk of capture by Allies. + + + NAPOLEON + + Ah, so? My friend Augustus, is he near? + I will be prompt to meet him when he comes, + And safely quarter him. [He returns to the map.] + + [An interval. The clock strikes midnight. The EMPEROR rises + abruptly, sighs, and comes forward.] + + I now retire, + Comrades. Good-night, good-night. Remember well + All must prepare to grip with gory death + In the now voidless battle. It will be + A great one and a critical; one, in brief, + That will seal France's fate, and yours, and mine! + + + ALL [fervidly] + + We'll do our utmost, by the Holy Heaven! + + + NAPOLEON + + Ah--what was that? [He pulls back the window-curtain.] + + + SEVERAL + + It is our enemies, + Whose southern hosts are signalling to their north. + + [A white rocket is beheld high in the air. It is followed by a + second, and a third. There is a pause, during which NAPOLEON and + the rest wait motionless. In a minute or two, from the opposite + side of the city, three coloured rockets are sent up, in evident + answer to the three white ones. NAPOLEON muses, and lets the + curtain drop.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Yes, Schwarzenberg to Blücher.... It must be + To show that they are ready. So are we! + + [He goes out without saying more. The marshals and other officers + withdraw. The room darkens and ends the scene.] + + + + SCENE II + + THE SAME. THE CITY AND THE BATTLEFIELD + + [Leipzig is viewed in aerial perspective from a position above the + south suburbs, and reveals itself as standing in a plain, with + rivers and marshes on the west, north, and south of it, and higher + ground to the east and south-east. + + At this date it is somewhat in she shape of the letter D, the + straight part of which is the river Pleisse. Except as to this + side it is surrounded by armies--the inner horseshoe of them + being the French defending the city; the outer horseshoe being + the Allies about to attack it. + + Far over the city--as it were at the top of the D--at Lindenthal, + we see MARMONT stationed to meet BLÜCHER when he arrives on that + side. To the right of him is NEY, and further off to the right, + on heights eastward, MACDONALD. Then round the curve towards the + south in order, AUGEREAU, LAURISTON [behind whom is NAPOLEON + himself and the reserve of Guards], VICTOR [at Wachau], and + PONIATOWSKI, near the Pleisse River at the bottom of the D. Near + him are the cavalry of KELLERMANN and MILHAUD, and in the same + direction MURAT with his, covering the great avenues of approach + on the south. + + Outside all these stands SCHWARZENBERG'S army, of which, opposed + to MACDONALD and LAURISTON, are KLEINAU'S Austrians and ZIETEN'S + Prussians, covered on the flank by Cossacks under PLATOFF. + Opposed to VICTOR and PONIATOWSKI are MEERFELDT and Hesse-Homburg's + Austrians, WITTGENSTEIN'S Russians, KLEIST'S Prussians, GUILAY'S + Austrians, with LICHTENSTEIN'S and THIELMANN'S light troops: thus + reaching round across the Elster into the morass on our near left-- + the lower point of the D.] + + + SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS [aerial music] + + This is the combat of Napoleon's hope, + But not of his assurance! Shrunk in power + He broods beneath October's clammy cope, + While hemming hordes wax denser every hour. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + He knows, he knows that though in equal fight + He stand s heretofore the matched of none, + A feeble skill is propped by numbers' might, + And now three hosts close round to crush out one! + + + DUMB SHOW + + The Leipzig clocks imperturbably strike nine, and the battle which + is to decide the fate of Europe, and perhaps the world, begins with + three booms from the line of the allies. They are the signal for + a general cannonade of devastating intensity. + + So massive is the contest that we soon fail to individualize the + combatants as beings, and can only observe them as amorphous drifts, + clouds, and waves of conscious atoms, surging and rolling together; + can only particularize them by race, tribe, and language. + Nationalities from the uttermost parts of Asia here meet those from + the Atlantic edge of Europe for the first and last time. By noon + the sound becomes a loud droning, uninterrupted and breve-like, as + from the pedal of an organ kept continuously down. + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS + + Now triple battle beats about the town, + And now contracts the huge elastic ring + Of fighting flesh, as those within go down, + Or spreads, as those without show faltering! + + + It becomes apparent that the French have a particular intention, + the Allies only a general one. That of the French is to break + through the enemy's centre and surround his right. To this end + NAPOLEON launches fresh columns, and simultaneously OUDINOT supports + VICTOR against EUGENE OF WURTEMBERG'S right, while on the other + side of him the cavalry of MILHAUD and KELLERMAN prepares to charge. + NAPOLEON'S combination is successful, and drives back EUGENE. + Meanwhile SCHWARZENBERG is stuck fast, useless in the marshes + between the Pleisse and the Elster. + + By three o'clock the Allied centre, which has held out against the + assaults of the French right and left, is broken through by cavalry + under MURAT, LATOUR-MAUBOURG, and KELLERMANN. + + The bells of Leipzig ring. + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES + + Those chimings, ill-advised and premature! + Who knows if such vast valour will endure? + + + The Austro-Russians are withdrawn from the marshes by SCHWARZENBERG. + But the French cavalry also get entangled in the swamps, and + simultaneously MARMONT is beaten at Mockern. + + Meanwhile NEY, to the north of Leipzig, having heard the battle + raging southward, leaves his position to assist it. He has nearly + arrived when he hears BLÜCHER attacking at the point he came from, + and sends back some of his divisions. + + BERTRAND has kept open the west road to Lindenau and the Rhine, the + only French line of retreat. + + Evening finds the battle a drawn one. With the nightfall three blank + shots reverberate hollowly. + + + SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS + + They sound to say that, for this moaning night, + As Nature sleeps, so too shall sleep the fight; + Neither the victor. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + But, for France and him, + Half-won is losing! + + + CHORUS + + Yea, his hopes drop dim, + Since nothing less than victory to-day + Had saved a cause whose ruin is delay! + + + The night gets thicker and no more is seen. + + + + SCENE III + + THE SAME, FROM THE TOWER OF THE PLEISSENBURG + + [The tower commands a view of a great part of the battlefield. + Day has just dawned, and citizens, saucer-eyed from anxiety and + sleeplessness, are discover watching.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + The wind increased at midnight while I watched, + With flapping showers, and clouds that combed the moon, + Till dawn began outheaving this huge day, + Pallidly--as if scared by its own issue; + This day that the Allies with bonded might + Have vowed to deal their felling finite blow. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + So must it be! They have welded close the coop + Wherein our luckless Frenchmen are enjailed + With such compression that their front has shrunk + From five miles' farness to but half as far.-- + Men say Napoleon made resolve last night + To marshal a retreat. If so, his way + Is by the Bridge of Lindenau. + + [They look across in the cold east light at the long straight + causeway from the Ranstadt Gate at the north-west corner of the + town, and the Lindenau bridge over the Elster beyond.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + Last night I saw, like wolf-packs, hosts appear + Upon the Dresden road; and then, anon, + The already stout arrays of Schwarzenberg + Grew stoutened more. I witnessed clearly, too, + Just before dark, the bands of Bernadotte + Come, hemming in the north more thoroughly. + The horizon glowered with a thousand fires + As the unyielding circle shut around. + + [As it grows light they scan and define the armies.] + + + THIRD CITIZEN + + Those lying there, 'twixt Connewitz and Dolitz, + Are the right wing of horse Murat commands. + Next, Poniatowski, Victor, and the rest. + Out here, Napoleon's centre at Probstheida, + Where he has bivouacked. Those round this way + Are his left wing with Ney, that face the north + Between Paunsdorf and Gohlis.--Thus, you see + They are skilfully sconced within the villages, + With cannon ranged in front. And every copse, + Dingle, and grove is packed with riflemen. + + [The heavy sky begins to clear with the full arrival of the + morning. The sun bursts out, and the previously dark and gloomy + masses glitter in the rays. It is now seven o'clock, and with the + shining of the sun, the battle is resumed. + + The army of Bohemia to the south and east, in three great columns, + marches concentrically upon NAPOLEON'S new and much-contracted line + --the first column of thirty-five thousand under BENNIGSEN; the + second, the central, forty-five thousand under BARCLAY DE TOLLY; + the third, twenty-five thousand under the PRINCE OF HESSE-HOMBURG. + + An interval of suspense.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + Ah, see! The French bend, falter, and fall back. + + [Another interval. Then a huge rumble of artillery resounds from + the north.] + + + SEMICHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music] + + Now Blücher has arrived; and now falls to! + Marmont withdraws before him. Bernadotte + Touching Bennigsen, joins attack with him, + And Ney must needs recede. This serves as sign + To Schwarzenberg to bear upon Probstheida-- + Napoleon's keystone and dependence here. + But for long whiles he fails to win his will, + The chief being nigh--outmatching might with skill. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Ney meanwhile, stung still sharplier, still withdraws + Nearer the town, and met by new mischance, + Finds him forsaken by his Saxon wing-- + Fair files of thrice twelve thousand footmanry. + But rallying those still true with signs and calls, + He warely closes up his remnant to the walls. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Around Probstheida still the conflict rolls + Under Napoleon's eye surpassingly. + Like sedge before the scythe the sections fall + And bayonets slant and reek. Each cannon-blaze + Makes the air thick with human limbs; while keen + Contests rage hand to hand. Throats shout “advance,” + And forms walm, wallow, and slack suddenly. + Hot ordnance split and shiver and rebound, + And firelocks fouled and flintless overstrew the ground. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + At length the Allies, daring tumultuously, + Find them inside Probstheida. There is fixed + Napoleon's cardinal and centre hold. + But need to loose it grows his gloomy fear + As night begins to brown and treacherous mists appear. + + + CHORUS + + Then, on the three fronts of this reaching field, + A furious, far, and final cannonade + Burns from two thousand mouths and shakes the plain, + And hastens the sure end! Towards the west + Bertrand keeps open the retreating-way, + Along which wambling waggons since the noon + Have crept in closening file. Dusk draws around; + The marching remnants drowse amid their talk, + And worn and harrowed horses slumber as the walk. + + [In the darkness of the distance spread cries from the maimed + animals and the wounded men. Multitudes of the latter contrive to + crawl into the city, until the streets are full of them. Their + voices are heard calling.] + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + They cry for water! Let us go down, + And do what mercy may. + + [Exeunt citizens from the tower.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + A fire is lit + Near to the Thonberg wind-wheel. Can it be + Napoleon tarries yet? Let us go see. + + [The distant firelight becomes clearer and closer.] + + + + SCENE IV + + THE SAME. AT THE THONBERG WINDMILL + + [By the newly lighted fire NAPOLEON is seen walking up and down, + much agitated and worn. With him are MURAT, BERTHIER, AUGEREAU, + VICTOR, and other marshals of corps that have been engaged in this + part of the field--all perspiring, muddy, and fatigued.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Baseness so gross I had not guessed of them!-- + The thirty thousand false Bavarians + I looked on losing not unplacidly; + But these troth-swearing sober Saxonry + I reckoned staunch by virtue of their king! + Thirty-five thousand and gone! It magnifies + A failure into a catastrophe.... + Murat, we must retreat precipitately, + And not as hope had dreamed! Begin it then + This very hour.--Berthier, write out the orders.-- + Let me sit down. + + [A chair is brought out from the mill. NAPOLEON sinks into it, and + BERTHIER, stooping over the fire, begins writing to the Emperor's + dictation, the marshals looking with gloomy faces at the flaming + logs. + + NAPOLEON has hardly dictated a line when he stops short. BERTHIER + turns round and finds that he has dropt asleep.] + + + MURAT [sullenly] + + Far better not disturb him; + He'll soon enough awake! + + [They wait, muttering to one another in tones expressing weary + indifference to issues. NAPOLEON sleeps heavily for a quarter of + and hour, during which the moon rises over the field. At the end + he starts up stares around him with astonishment.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Am I awake? + Or is this all a dream?--Ah, no. Too real!... + And yet I have seen ere now a time like this. + + [The dictation is resumed. While it is in progress there can be + heard between the words of NAPOLEON the persistent cries from the + plain, rising and falling like those of a vast rookery far away, + intermingled with the trampling of hoofs and the rumble of wheels. + The bivouac fires of the engirdling enemy glow all around except + for a small segment to the west--the track of retreat, still kept + open by BERTRAND, and already taken by the baggage-waggons. + + The orders for its adoption by the entire army being completed, + NAPOLEON bids adieu to his marshals, and rides with BERTHIER and + CAULAINCOURT into Leipzig. Exeunt also the others.] + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES + + Now, as in the dream of one sick to death, + There comes a narrowing room + That pens him, body and limbs and breath, + To wait a hideous doom, + + + SEMICHORUS II + + So to Napoleon in the hush + That holds the town and towers + Through this dire night, a creeping crush + Seems inborne with the hours. + + [The scene closes under a rimy mist, which makes a lurid cloud of + the firelights.] + + + + SCENE V + + THE SAME. A STREET NEAR THE RANSTADT GATE + + [High old-fashioned houses form the street, along which, from the + east of the city, is streaming a confusion of waggons, in hurried + exit through the gate westward upon the highroad to Lindenau, + Lutzen, and the Rhine. + + In front of an inn called the “Prussian Arms” are some attendants + of NAPOLEON waiting with horses.] + + + FIRST OFFICER + + He has just come from bidding the king and queen + A long good-bye.... Is it that they will pay + For his indulgence of their past ambition + By sharing now his ruin? Much the king + Did beg him to leave them to their lot, + And shun the shame of capture needlessly. + [He looks anxiously towards the door.] + I would he'd haste! Each minute is of price. + + + SECOND OFFICER + + The king will come to terms with the Allies. + They will not hurt him. Though he has lost his all, + His case is not like ours! + + [The cheers of the approaching enemy grow louder. NAPOLEON comes + out from the “Prussian Arms,” haggard and in disordered attire. + He is about to mount, but, perceiving the blocked state of the + street, he hesitates.] + + + NAPOLEON + + God, what a crowd! + I shall more quickly gain the gate afoot. + There is a byway somewhere, I suppose? + + [A citizen approaches out of the inn.] + + + CITIZEN + + This alley, sire, will speed you to the gate; + I shall be honoured much to point the way. + + + NAPOLEON + + Then do, good friend. [To attendants] Bring on the horses there; + I if arrive soonest I will wait for you. + + [The citizen shows NAPOLEON the way into the alley.] + + + CITIZEN + + A garden's at the end, your Majesty, + Through which you pass. Beyond there is a door + That opens to the Elster bank unbalked. + + [NAPOLEON disappears into the alley. His attendants plunge amid + the traffic with the horses, and thread their way down the street. + + Another citizen comes from the door of the inn and greets the + first.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + He's gone! + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + I'll see if he succeed. + + [He re-enters the inn and soon appears at an upper window.] + + + FIRST CITIZEN [from below] + + You see him? + + + SECOND CITIZEN [gazing] + + He is already at the garden-end; + Now he has passed out to the river-brim, + And plods along it toward the Ranstadt Gate.... + He finds no horses for him!... And the crowd + Thrusts him about, none recognizing him. + Ah--now the horses do arrive. He mounts, + And hurries through the arch.... Again I see him-- + Now he's upon the causeway in the marsh; + Now rides across the bridge of Lindenau... + And now, among the troops that choke the road + I lose all sight of him. + + [A third citizen enters from the direction NAPOLEON has taken.] + + + THIRD CITIZEN [breathlessly] + + I have seen him go! + And while he passed the gate I stood i' the crowd + So close I could have touched him! Few discerned + In one so soiled the erst Arch-Emperor!-- + In the lax mood of him who has lost all + He stood inert there, idly singing thin: + “Malbrough s'en va-t-en guerre!”--until his suite + Came up with horses. + + + SECOND CITIZEN [still gazing afar] + + Poniatowski's Poles + Wearily walk the level causeway now; + Also, meseems, Macdonald's corps and Reynier's. + The frail-framed, new-built bridge has broken down: + They've but the old to cross by. + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + Feeble foresight! + They should have had a dozen. + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + All the corps-- + Macdonald's, Poniatowski's, Reynier's--all-- + Confusedly block the entrance to the bridge. + And--verily Blücher's troops are through the town, + And are debouching from the Ranstadt Gate + Upon the Frenchmen's rear! + + [A thunderous report stops his words, echoing through the city from + the direction in which he is gazing, and rattling all the windows. + A hoarse chorus of cries becomes audible immediately after.] + + + FIRST, THIRD, ETC., CITIZENS + + Ach, Heaven!--what's that? + + + SECOND CITIZEN + + The bridge of Lindenau has been upblown! + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + There leaps to the sky and earthen wave, + And stones, and men, as though + Some rebel churchyard crew updrave + Their sepulchres from below. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + To Heaven is blown Bridge Lindenau; + Wrecked regiments reel therefrom; + And rank and file in masses plough + The sullen Elster-Strom. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + A gulf is Lindenau; and dead + Are fifties, hundreds, tens; + And every current ripples red + With marshals' blood and men's. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + The smart Macdonald swims therein, + And barely wins the verge; + Bold Poniatowski plunges in + Never to re-emerge! + + + FIRST CITIZEN + + Are not the French across as yet, God save them? + + + SECOND CITIZEN [still gazing above] + + Nor Reynier's corps, Macdonald's, Lauriston's, + Nor yet the Poles.... And Blücher's troops approach, + And all the French this side are prisoners. + --Now for our handling by the Prussian host; + Scant courtesy for our king! + + [Other citizens appear beside him at the window, and further + conversation continues entirely above.] + + + CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS + + The Battle of the Nations now is closing, + And all is lost to One, to many gained; + The old dynastic routine reimposing, + The new dynastic structure unsustained. + + Now every neighbouring realm is France's warder, + And smirking satisfaction will be feigned: + The which is seemlier?--so-called ancient order, + Or that the hot-breath'd war-horse ramp unreined? + + [The October night thickens and curtains the scene.] + + + + SCENE VI + + THE PYRENEES. NEAR THE RIVER NIVELLE + + [Evening. The dining-room of WELLINGTON'S quarters. The table is + laid for dinner. The battle of the Nivelle has just been fought. + + Enter WELLINGTON, HILL, BERESFORD, STEWART, HOPE, CLINTON, COLBORNE, + COLE, KEMPT [with a bound-up wound], and other officers. + + + WELLINGTON + + It is strange that they did not hold their grand position more + tenaciously against us to-day. By God, I don't quite see why we + should have beaten them! + + + COLBORNE + + My impression is that they had the stiffness taken out of them by + something they had just heard of. Anyhow, startling news of some + kind was received by those of the Eighty-eighth we took in the + signal-redoubt after I summoned the Commandant. + + + WELLINGTON + + Oh, what news? + + + COLBORNE + + I cannot say, my lord, I only know that the latest number of the + _Imperial Gazette_ was seen in the hands of some of them before the + capture. They had been reading the contents, and were cast down. + + + WELLINGTON + + That's interesting. I wonder what the news could have been? + + + HILL + + Something about Boney's army in Saxony would be most probable. + Though I question if there's time yet for much to have been + decided there. + + + BERESFORD + + Well, I wouldn't say that. A hell of a lot of things may have + happened there by this time. + + + COLBORNE + + It was tantalizing, but they were just able to destroy the paper + before we could prevent them. + + + WELLINGTON + + Did you question them? + + + COLBORNE + + Oh yes. But they stayed sulking at being taken, and would tell us + nothing, pretending that they knew nothing. Whether much were going + on, they said, or little, between the army of the Emperor and the + army of the Allies, it was none of their business to relate it; so + they kept a gloomy silence for the most part. + + + WELLINGTON + + They will cheer up a bit and be more communicative when they have had + some dinner. + + + COLE + + They are dining here, my lord? + + + WELLINGTON + + I sent them an invitation an hour ago, which they have accepted. + I could do no less, poor devils. They'll be here in a few minutes. + See that they have plenty of Madeira to whet their whistles with. + It well screw them up into a better key, and they'll not be so + reserved. + + [The conversation on the day's battle becomes general. Enter as + guests French officers of the Eighty-eighth regiment now prisoners + on parole. They are welcomed by WELLINGTON and the staff, and all + sit down to dinner. + + For some time the meal proceeds almost in silence; but wine is + passed freely, and both French and English officers become + talkative and merry. + + + WELLINGTON [to the French Commandant] + + More cozy this, sir, than--I'll warrant me-- + You found it in that damned redoubt to-day? + + + COMMANDANT + + The devil if 'tis not, monseigneur, sure! + + + WELLINGTON + + So 'tis for us who were outside, by God! + + + COMMANDANT [gloomily] + + No; we were not at ease! Alas, my lord, + 'Twas more than flesh and blood could do, to fight + After such paralyzing tidings came. + More life may trickle out of men through thought + Than through a gaping wound. + + + WELLINGTON + + Your reference + Bears on the news from Saxony, I infer? + + + SECOND FRENCH OFFICER + + Yes: on the Emperor's ruinous defeat + At Leipzig city--brought to our startled heed + By one of the _Gazettes_ just now arrived. + + [All the English officers stop speaking, and listen eagerly.] + + + WELLINGTON + + Where are the Emperor's headquarters now? + + + COMMANDANT + + My lord, there are no headquarters. + + + WELLINGTON + + No headquarters? + + + COMMANDANT + + There are no French headquarters now, my lord, + For there is no French army! France's fame + Is fouled. And how, then, could we fight to-day + With our hearts in our shoes! + + + WELLINGTON + + Why, that bears out + What I but lately said; it was not like + The brave men who have faced and foiled me here + So many a long year past, to give away + A stubborn station quite so readily. + + + BERESFORD + + And what, messieurs, ensued at Leipzig then? + + + SEVERAL FRENCH OFFICERS + + Why, sirs, should we conceal it? Thereupon + Part of our army took the Lutzen road; + Behind a blown-up bridge. Those in advance + Arrived at Lutzen with the Emperor-- + The scene of our once famous victory! + In such sad sort retreat was hurried on, + Erfurt was gained with Blücher hot at heel. + To cross the Rhine seemed then our only hope; + Alas, the Austrians and the Bavarians + Faced us in Hanau Forest, led by Wrede, + And dead-blocked our escape. + + + WELLINGTON + + Ha. Did they though? + + + SECOND FRENCH OFFICER + + But if brave hearts were ever desperate, + Sir, we were desperate then! We pierced them through, + Our loss unrecking. So by Frankfurt's walls + We fared to Mainz, and there recrossed the Rhine. + A funeral procession, so we seemed, + Upon the long bridge that had rung so oft + To our victorious feet!... What since has coursed + We know not, gentlemen. But this we know, + That Germany echoes no French footfall! + + + AN ENGLISH OFFICER + + One sees not why it should. + + + SECOND FRENCH OFFICER + + We'll leave it so. + + [Conversation on the Leipzig disaster continues till the dinner + ends The French prisoners courteously take their leave and go + out.] + + + WELLINGTON + + Very good set of fellows. I could wish + They all were mine!...Well, well; there was no crime + In trying to ascertain these fat events: + They would have sounded soon from other tongues. + + + HILL + + It looks like the first scene of act the last + For our and all men's foe! + + + WELLINGTON + + I count to meet + The Allies upon the cobble-stones of Paris + Before another half-year's suns have shone. + --But there's some work for us to do here yet: + The dawn must find us fording the Nivelle! + + [Exeunt WELLINGTON and officers. The room darkens.] + + + + +ACT FOURTH + + + SCENE I + + THE UPPER RHINE + + [The view is from a vague altitude over the beautiful country + traversed by the Upper Rhine, which stretches through it in + birds-eye perspective. At this date in Europe's history the + stream forms the frontier between France and Germany. + + It is the morning of New Year's Day, and the shine of the tardy + sun reaches the fronts of the beetling castles, but scarcely + descends far enough to touch the wavelets of the river winding + leftwards across the many-leagued picture from Schaffhausen to + Coblenz.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + At first nothing--not even the river itself--seems to move in the + panorama. But anon certain strange dark patches in the landscape, + flexuous and riband-shaped, are discerned to be moving slowly. + Only one movable object on earth is large enough to be conspicuous + herefrom, and that is an army. The moving shapes are armies. + + The nearest, almost beneath us, is defiling across the river by a + bridge of boats, near the junction of the Rhine and the Neckar, + where the oval town of Mannheim, standing in the fork between the + two rivers, has from here the look of a human head in a cleft + stick. Martial music from many bands strikes up as the crossing + is effected, and the undulating columns twinkle as if they were + scaly serpents. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + It is the Russian host, invading France! + + + Many miles to the left, down-stream, near the little town of Caube, + another army is seen to be simultaneously crossing the pale current, + its arms and accoutrements twinkling in like manner. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + Thither the Prussian levies, too, advance! + + + Turning now to the right, far away by Basel [beyond which the + Swiss mountains close the scene], a still larger train of war- + geared humanity, two hundred thousand strong, is discernible. + It has already crossed the water, which is much narrower here, + and has advanced several miles westward, where its ductile mass + of greyness and glitter is beheld parting into six columns, that + march on in flexuous courses of varying direction. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + There glides carked Austria's invading force!-- + Panting, too, Paris-wards with foot and horse, + Of one intention with the other twain, + And Wellington, from the south, in upper Spain. + + + All these dark and grey columns, converging westward by sure + degrees, advance without opposition. They glide on as if by + gravitation, in fluid figures, dictated by the conformation of + the country, like water from a burst reservoir; mostly snake- + shaped, but occasionally with batrachian and saurian outlines. + In spite of the immensity of this human mechanism on its surface, + the winter landscape wears an impassive look, as if nothing were + happening. + + Evening closes in, and the Dumb Show is obscured. + + + + SCENE II + + PARIS. THE TUILERIES + + [It is Sunday just after mass, and the principal officers of the + National Guard are assembled in the Salle des Marechaux. They + stand in an attitude of suspense, some with the print of sadness + on their faces, some with that of perplexity. + + The door leading from the Hall to the adjoining chapel is thrown + open. There enter from the chapel with the last notes of the + service the EMPEROR NAPOLEON and the EMPRESS; and simultaneously + from a door opposite MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, the governess, who + carries in her arms the KING OF ROME, now a fair child between + two and three. He is clothed in a miniature uniform of the + Guards themselves. + + MADAM DE MONTESQUIOU brings forward the child and sets him on his + feet near his mother. NAPOLEON, with a mournful smile, giving one + hand to the boy and the other to MARIE LOUISE, _en famille_, leads + them forward. The Guard bursts into cheers.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Gentlemen of the National Guard and friends, + I have to leave you; and before I fare + To Heaven know what of personal destiny, + I give into your loyal guardianship + Those dearest in the world to me; my wife, + The Empress, and my son the King of Rome.-- + I go to shield your roofs and kin from foes + Who have dared to pierce the fences of our land; + And knowing that you house those dears of mine, + I start afar in all tranquillity, + Stayed by my trust in your proved faithfulness. + [Enthusiastic cheers for the Guard.] + + + OFFICERS [with emotion] + + We proudly swear to justify the trust! + And never will we see another sit + Than you, or yours, on the great throne of France. + + + NAPOLEON + + I ratify the Empress' regency, + And re-confirm it on last year's lines, + My bother Joseph stoutening her rule + As the Lieutenant-General of the State.-- + Vex her with no divisions; let regard + For property, for order, and for France + Be chief with all. Know, gentlemen, the Allies + Are drunken with success. Their late advantage + They have handled wholly for their own gross gain, + And made a pastime of my agony. + + That I go clogged with cares I sadly own; + Yet I go primed with hope; ay, in despite + Of a last sorrow that has sunk upon me,-- + The grief of hearing, good and constant friends, + That my own sister's consort, Naples' king, + Blazons himself a backer of the Allies, + And marches with a Neapolitan force + Against our puissance under Prince Eugene. + + The varied operations to ensue + May bring the enemy largely Paris-wards; + But suffer no alarm; before long days + I will annihilate by flank and rear + Those who have risen to trample on our soil; + And as I have done so many and proud a time, + Come back to you with ringing victory!-- + Now, see: I personally present to you + My son and my successor ere I go. + + [He takes the child in his arms and carries him round to the + officers severally. They are much affected and raise loud + cheers.] + + You stand by him and her? You swear as much? + + + OFFICERS + + We do! + + + NAPOLEON + + This you repeat--you promise it? + + + OFFICERS + + We promise. May the dynasty live for ever! + + [Their shouts, which spread to the Carrousel without, are echoed + by the soldiers of the Guard assembled there. The EMPRESS is now + in tears, and the EMPEROR supports her.] + + + MARIE LOUISE + + Such whole enthusiasm I have never known!-- + Not even from the Landwehr of Vienna. + + [Amid repeated protestations and farewells NAPOLEON, the EMPRESS, + the KING OF ROME, MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU, etc. go out in one + direction, and the officers of the National Guard in another. + + The curtain falls for an interval. + + When it rises again the apartment is in darkness, and its atmosphere + chilly. The January night-wind howls without. Two servants enter + hastily, and light candles and a fire. The hands of the clock are + pointing to three. + + The room is hardly in order when the EMPEROR enters, equipped for + the intended journey; and with him, his left arm being round her + waist, walks MARIE LOUISE in a dressing-gown. On his right arm + he carries the KING OF ROME, and in his hand a bundle of papers. + COUNT BERTRAND and a few members of the household follow. + + Reaching the middle of the room, he kisses the child and embraces + the EMPRESS, who is tearful, the child weeping likewise. NAPOLEON + takes the papers to the fire, thrusts them in, and watches them + consume; then burns other bundles brought by his attendants.] + + + NAPOLEON [gloomily] + + Better to treat them thus; since no one knows + What comes, or into whose hands he may fall! + + + MARIE LOUISE + + I have an apprehension-unexplained-- + That I shall never see you any more! + + + NAPOLEON + + Dismiss such fears. You may as well as not. + As things are doomed to be they will be, dear. + If shadows must come, let them come as though + The sun were due and you were trusting to it: + 'Twill teach the world it wrongs in bringing them. + + [They embrace finally. Exeunt NAPOLEON, etc. Afterwards MARIE + LOUISE and the child.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Her instinct forwardly is keen in cast, + And yet how limited. True it may be + They never more will meet; although--to use + The bounded prophecy I am dowered with-- + The screen that will maintain their severance + Would pass her own believing; proving it + No gaol-grille, no scath of scorching war, + But this persuasion, pressing on her pulse + To breed aloofness and a mind averse; + Until his image in her soul will shape + Dwarfed as a far Colossus on a plain, + Or figure-head that smalls upon the main. + + [The lights are extinguished and the hall is left in darkness.] + + + + SCENE III + + THE SAME. THE APARTMENTS OF THE EMPRESS + + [A March morning, verging on seven o'clock, throws its cheerless + stare into the private drawing-room of MARIE LOUISE, animating + the gilt furniture to only a feeble shine. Two chamberlains of + the palace are there in waiting. They look from the windows and + yawn.] + + + FIRST CHAMBERLAIN + + Here's a watering for spring hopes! Who would have supposed when + the Emperor left, and appointed her Regent, that she and the Regency + too would have to scurry after in so short a time! + + + SECOND CHAMBERLAIN + + Was a course decided on last night? + + + FIRST CHAMBERLAIN + + Yes. The Privy Council sat till long past midnight, debating the + burning question whether she and the child should remain or not. + Some were one way, some the other. She settled the matter by saying + she would go. + + + SECOND CHAMBERLAIN + + I thought it might come to that. I heard the alarm beating all night + to assemble the National Guard; and I am told that some volunteers + have marched out to support Marmot. But they are a mere handful: + what can they do? + + [A clatter of wheels and a champing and prancing of horses is + heard outside the palace. MENEVAL enters, and divers officers + of the household; then from her bedroom at the other end MARIE + LOUISE, in a travelling dress and hat, leading the KING OF ROME, + attired for travel likewise. She looks distracted and pale. + Next come the DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO, lady of honour, the COUNTESS + DE MONTESQUIOU, ladies of the palace, and others, all in travelling + trim.] + + + KING OF ROME [plaintively] + + Why are we doing these strange things, mamma, + And what did we get up so early for? + + + MARIE LOUISE + + I cannot, dear, explain. So many events + Enlarge and make so many hours of one, + That it would be too hard to tell them now. + + + KING OF ROME + + But you know why we a setting out like this? + Is it because we fear our enemies? + + + MARIE LOUISE + + We are not sure that we are going yet. + I may be needful; but don't ask me here. + Some time I will tell you. + + [She sits down irresolutely, and bestows recognitions on the + assembled officials with a preoccupied air.] + + + KING OF ROME [in a murmur] + + I like being here best; + And I don't want to go I know not where! + + + MARIE LOUISE + + Run, dear to Mamma 'Quiou and talk to her + [He goes across to MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU.] + I hear that women of the Royalist hope + [To the DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO] + Have bent them busy in their private rooms + With working white cockades these several days.-- + Yes--I must go! + + + DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO + + But why yet, Empress dear? + We may soon gain good news; some messenger + Hie from the Emperor or King Joseph hither? + + + MARIE LOUISE + + King Joseph I await. He's gone to eye + The outposts, with the Ministers of War, + To learn the scope and nearness of the Allies; + He should almost be back. + + [A silence, till approaching feet are suddenly heard outside the + door.] + + Ah, here he comes; + Now we shall know! + + [Enter precipitately not Joseph but officers of the National Guard + and others.] + + + OFFICERS + + Long live the Empress-regent! + Do not quit Paris, pray, your Majesty. + Remain, remain. We plight us to defend you! + + + MARIE LOUISE [agitated] + + Gallant messieurs, I thank you heartily. + But by the Emperor's biddance I am bound. + He has vowed he'd liefer see me and my son + Blanched at the bottom of the smothering Seine + Than in the talons of the foes of France.-- + To keep us sure from such, then, he ordained + Our swift withdrawal with the Ministers + Towards the Loire, if enemies advanced + In overmastering might. They do advance; + Marshal Marmont and Mortier are repulsed, + And that has come whose hazard he foresaw. + All is arranged; the treasure is awheel, + And papers, seals, and cyphers packed therewith. + + + OFFICERS [dubiously] + + Yet to leave Paris is to court disaster! + + + MARIE LOUISE [with petulance] + + I shall do what I say!... I don't know what-- + What SHALL I do! + + [She bursts into tears and rushes into her bedroom, followed by + the young KING and some of her ladies. There is a painful silence, + broken by sobbings and expostulations within. Re-enter one of the + ladies.] + + + LADY + + She's sorely overthrown; + She flings herself upon the bed distraught. + She says, “My God, let them make up their minds + To one or other of these harrowing ills, + And force to't, and end my agony!” + + [An official enters at the main door.] + + + OFFICIAL + + I am sent here by the Minister of War + To her Imperial Majesty the Empress. + + [Re-enter MARIE LOUISE and the KING OF ROME.] + + Your Majesty, my mission is to say + Imperious need dictates your instant flight. + A vanward regiment of the Prussian packs + Has gained the shadow of the city walls. + + + MENEVAL + + They are armed Europe's scouts! + + [Enter CAMBACERES the Arch-Chancellor, COUNT BEAUHARNAIS, CORVISART + the physician, DE BAUSSET, DE CANISY the equerry, and others.] + + + CAMBACERES + + Your Majesty, + There's not a trice to lose. The force well-nigh + Of all compacted Europe crowds on us, + And clamours at the walls! + + + BEAUHARNAIS + + If you stay longer, + You stay to fall into the Cossacks hands. + The people, too, are waxing masterful: + They think the lingering of your Majesty + Makes Paris more a peril for themselves + Than a defence for you. To fight is fruitless, + And wanton waste of life. You have nought to do + But go; and I, and all the Councillors, + Will follow you. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + Then I was right to say + That I would go! Now go I surely will, + And let none try to hinder me again! + + [She prepares to leave.] + + + KING OF ROME [crying] + + I will not go! I like to live here best! + Don't go to Rambouillet, mamma; please don't. + It is a nasty place! Let us stay here. + O Mamma 'Quiou, stay with me here; pray stay! + + + MARIE LOUISE [to the Equerry] + + Bring him down. + + [Exit MARIE LOUISE in tears, followed by ladies-in-waiting and + others.] + + + DE CANISY + + Come now, Monseigneur, come. + + [He catches up the boy in his arms and prepares to follow the + Empress.] + + + KING OF ROME [kicking] + + No, no, no! I don't want to go away from my house--I don't want to! + Now papa is away I am the master! [He clings to the door as the + equerry is bearing him through it.] + + + DE CANISY + + But you must go. + + [The child's fingers are pulled away. Exit DE CANISY with the King + OF ROME, who is heard screaming as he is carried down the staircase.] + + + MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU + + I feel the child is right! + A premonition has enlightened him. + She ought to stay. But, ah, the die is cast! + + [MADAME DE MONTESQUIOU and the remainder of the party follow, and + the room is left empty. Enter servants hastily.] + + + FIRST SERVANT + + Sacred God, where are we to go to for grub and good lying to-night? + What are ill-used men to do? + + + SECOND SERVANT + + I trudge like the rest. All the true philosophers are gone, and the + middling true are going. I made up my mind like the truest that ever + was as soon as I heard the general alarm beat. + + + THIRD SERVANT + + I stay here. No Allies are going to tickle our skins. The storm + which roots--Dost know what a metaphor is, comrade? I brim with + them at this historic time! + + + SECOND SERVANT + + A weapon of war used by the Cossacks? + + + THIRD SERVANT + + Your imagination will be your ruin some day, my man! It happens to + be a weapon of wisdom used by me. My metaphor is one may'st have + met with on the rare times when th'hast been in good society. Here + it is: The storm which roots the pine spares the p--s--b--d. Now + do you see? + + + FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTS + + Good! Your teaching, friend, is as sound as true religion! We'll + not go. Hearken to what's doing outside. [Carriages are heard + moving. Servants go to the window and look down.] Lord, there's + the Duchess getting in. Now the Mistress of the Wardrobe; now the + Ladies of the Palace; now the Prefects; now the Doctors. What a + time it takes! There are near a dozen berlines, as I am a patriot! + Those other carriages bear treasure. How quiet the people are! It + is like a funeral procession. Not a tongue cheers her! + + + THIRD SERVANT + + Now there will be a nice convenient time for a little good victuals + and drink, and likewise pickings, before the Allies arrive, thank + Mother Molly! + + [From a distant part of the city bands are heard playing military + marches. Guns next resound. Another servant rushes in.] + + + FOURTH SERVANT + + Montmartre is being stormed, and bombs are falling in the Chaussee + d'Antin! + + [Exit fourth servant.] + + + THIRD SERVANT [pulling something from his hat] + + Then it is time for me to gird my armour on. + + + SECOND SERVANT + + What hast there? + + [Third servant holds up a crumpled white cockade and sticks it in + his hair. The firing gets louder.] + + + FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTS + + Hast got another? + + + THIRD SERVANT [pulling out more] + + Ay--here they are; at a price. + + [The others purchase cockades of third servant. A military march + is again heard. Re-enter fourth servant.] + + + FOURTH SERVANT + + The city has capitulated! The Allied sovereigns, so it is said, + will enter in grand procession to-morrow: the Prussian cavalry + first, then the Austrian foot, then the Russian and Prussian foot, + then the Russian horse and artillery. And to cap all, the people + of Paris are glad of the change. They have put a rope round the + neck of the statue of Napoleon on the column of the Grand Army, and + are amusing themselves with twitching it and crying “Strangle the + Tyrant!” + + + SECOND SERVANT + + Well, well! There's rich colours in this kaleidoscopic world! + + + THIRD SERVANT + + And there's comedy in all things--when they don't concern you. + Another glorious time among the many we've had since eighty-nine. + We have put our armour on none too soon. The Bourbons for ever! + + [He leaves, followed by first and second servants.] + + + FOURTH SERVANT + + My faith, I think I'll turn Englishman in my older years, where + there's not these trying changes in the Constitution! + + [Follows the others. The Allies military march waxes louder as + the scene shuts.] + + + + SCENE IV + + FONTAINEBLEAU. A ROOM IN THE PALACE + + [NAPOLEON is discovered walking impatiently up and down, and + glancing at the clock every few minutes. Enter NEY.] + + + NAPOLEON [without a greeting] + + Well--the result? Ah, but your looks display + A leaden dawning to the light you bring! + What--not a regency? What--not the Empress + To hold it in trusteeship for my son? + + + NEY + + Sire, things like revolutions turn back, + But go straight on. Imperial governance + Is coffined for your family and yourself! + It is declared that military repose, + And France's well-doing, demand of you + Your abdication--unconditioned, sheer. + This verdict of the sovereigns cannot change, + And I have pushed on hot to let you know. + + + NAPOLEON [with repression] + + I am obliged to you. You have told me promptly!-- + This was to be expected. I had learnt + Of Marmont's late defection, and the Sixth's; + The consequence I easily inferred. + + + NEY + + The Paris folk are flaked with white cockades; + Tricolors choke the kennels. Rapturously + They clamour for the Bourbons and for peace. + + + NAPOLEON [tartly] + + I can draw inferences without assistance! + + + NEY [persisting] + + They see the brooks of blood that have flowed forth; + They feel their own bereavements; so their mood + Asked no deep reasoning for its geniture. + + + NAPOLEON + + I have no remarks to make on that just now. + I'll think the matter over. You shall know + By noon to-morrow my definitive. + + + NEY [turning to go] + + I trust my saying what had to be said + Has not affronted you? + + + NAPOLEON [bitterly] + + No; but your haste + In doing it has galled me, and has shown me + A heart that heaves no longer in my cause! + The skilled coquetting of the Government + Has nearly won you from old fellowship!... + Well; till to-morrow, marshal, then Adieu. + + [Ney goes. Enter CAULAINCOURT and MACDONALD.] + + Ney has got here before you; and, I deem, + Has truly told me all? + + + CAULAINCOURT + + We thought at first + We should have had success. But fate said No; + And abdication, making no reserves, + Is, sire, we are convinced, with all respect, + The only road, if you care not to risk + The Empress; loss of every dignity, + And magnified misfortunes thrown on France. + + + NAPOLEON + + I have heard it all; and don't agree with you. + My assets are not quite so beggarly + That I must close in such a shameful bond! + What--do you rate as naught that I am yet + Full fifty thousand strong, with Augereau, + And Soult, and Suchet true, and many more? + I still may know to play the Imperial game + As well as Alexander and his friends! + So--you will see. Where are my maps?--eh, where? + I'll trace campaigns to come! Where's my paper, ink, + To schedule all my generals and my means! + + + CAULAINCOURT + + Sire, you have not the generals you suppose. + + + MACDONALD + + And if you had, the mere anatomy + Of a real army, sire, that's left to you, + Must yield the war. A bad example tells. + + + NAPOLEON + + Ah--from your manner it is worse, I see, + Than I cognize!... O Marmont, Marmont,--yours, + Yours was the bad sad lead!--I treated him + As if he were a son!--defended him, + Made him a marshal out of sheer affection, + Built, as 'twere rock, on his fidelity! + “Forsake who may,” I said, “I still have him.” + Child that I was, I looked for faith in friends!... + + Then be it as you will. Ney's manner shows + That even he inclines to Bourbonry.-- + I faint to leave France thus--curtailed, pared down + From her late spacious borders. Of the whole + This is the keenest sword that pierces me.... + But all's too late: my course is closed, I see. + I'll do it--now. Call in Bertrand and Ney; + Let them be witness to my finishing! + + [In much agitation he goes to the writing-table and begins drawing + up a paper. BERTRAND and NEY enter; and behind them are seen + through the doorway the faces of CONSTANT the valet, ROUSTAN the + Mameluke, and other servants. All wait in silence till the EMPEROR + has done writing. He turns in his seat without looking up.] + + + NAPOLEON [reading] + + “It having been declared by the Allies + That the prime obstacle to Europe's peace + Is France's empery by Napoleon, + This ruler, faithful to his oath of old, + Renounces for himself and for his heirs + The throne of France and that of Italy; + Because no sacrifice, even of his life, + Is he averse to make for France's gain.” + --And hereto do I sign. [He turns to the table and signs.] + + [The marshals, moved, rush forward and seize his hand.] + + Mark, marshals, here; + It is a conquering foe I covenant with, + And not the traitors at the Tuileries + Who call themselves the Government of France! + Caulaincourt, go to Paris as before, + Ney and Macdonald too, and hand in this + To Alexander, and to him alone. + + [He gives the document, and bids them adieu almost without speech. + The marshals and others go out. NAPOLEON continues sitting with + his chin on his chest. + + An interval of silence. There is then heard in the corridor a + sound of whetting. Enter ROUSTAN the Mameluke, with a whetstone + in his belt and a sword in his hand.] + + + ROUSTAN + + After this fall, your Majesty, 'tis plain + You will not choose to live; and knowing this + I bring to you my sword. + + + NAPOLEON [with a nod] + + I see you do, Roustan. + + + ROUSTAN + + Will you, sire, use it on yourself, + Or shall I pass it through you? + + + NAPOLEON [coldly] + + Neither plan + Is quite expedient for the moment, man. + + + ROUSTAN + + Neither? + + + NAPOLEON + + There may be, in some suited time, + Some cleaner means of carrying out such work. + + + ROUSTAN + + Sire, you refuse? Can you support vile life + A moment on such terms? Why then, I pray, + Dispatch me with the weapon, or dismiss me. + [He holds the sword to NAPOLEON, who shakes his head.] + I live no longer under such disgrace! + + [Exit ROUSTAN haughtily. NAPOLEON vents a sardonic laugh, and + throws himself on a sofa, where he by and by falls asleep. The + door is softly opened. ROUSTAN and CONSTANT peep in.] + + + CONSTANT + + To-night would be as good a time to go as any. He will sleep there + for hours. I have my few francs safe, and I deserve them; for I have + stuck to him honourably through fourteen trying years. + + + ROUSTAN + + How many francs have you secured? + + + CONSTANT + + Well--more than you can count in one breath, or even two. + + + ROUSTAN + + Where? + + + CONSTANT + + In a hollow tree in the Forest. And as for YOUR reward, you can + easily get the keys of that cabinet, where there are more than + enough francs to equal mine. He will not have them, and you may + as well take them as strangers. + + + ROUSTAN + + It is not money that I want, but honour. I leave, because I can + no longer stay with self-respect. + + + CONSTANT + + And I because there is no other such valet in the temperate zone, + and it is for the good of society that I should not be wasted here. + + + ROUSTAN + + Well, as you propose going this evening I will go with you, to lend + a symmetry to the drama of our departure. Would that I had served + a more sensitive master! He sleeps there quite indifferent to the + dishonour of remaining alive! + + [NAPOLEON shows signs of waking. CONSTANT and ROUSTAN disappear. + NAPOLEON slowly sits up.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Here the scene lingers still! Here linger I!... + Things could not have gone on as they were going; + I am amazed they kept their course so long. + But long or short they have ended now--at last! + [Footsteps are heard passing through the court without.] + Hark at them leaving me! So politic rats + Desert the ship that's doomed. By morrow-dawn + I shall not have a man to shake my bed + Or say good-morning to! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Herein behold + How heavily grinds the Will upon his brain, + His halting hand, and his unlighted eye. + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + A picture this for kings and subjects too! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Yet is it but Napoleon who has failed. + The pale pathetic peoples still plod on + Through hoodwinkings to light! + + + NAPOLEON [rousing himself] + + This now must close. + Roustan misunderstood me, though his hint + Serves as a fillip to a flaccid brain.... + --How gild the sunset sky of majesty + Better than by the act esteemed of yore? + Plutarchian heroes outstayed not their fame, + And what nor Brutus nor Themistocles + Nor Cato nor Mark Antony survived, + Why, why should I? Sage Canabis, you primed me! + + [He unlocks a case, takes out a little bag containing a phial, pours + from it a liquid into a glass, and drinks. He then lies down and + falls asleep again. + + Re-enter CONSTANT softly with a bunch of keys in his hand. On + his way to the cabinet he turns and looks at NAPOLEON. Seeing + the glass and a strangeness in the EMPEROR, he abandons his + object, rushes out, and is heard calling. + + Enter MARET and BERTRAND.] + + + BERTRAND [shaking the Emperor] + + What is the matter, sire? What's this you've done? + + + NAPOLEON [with difficulty] + + Why did you interfere!--But it is well; + Call Caulaincourt. I'd speak with him a trice + Before I pass. + + [MARET hurries out. Enter IVAN the physician, and presently + CAULAINCOURT.] + + Ivan, renew this dose; + 'Tis a slow workman, and requires a fellow; + Age has impaired its early promptitude. + + [Ivan shakes his head and rushes away distracted. CAULAINCOURT + seizes NAPOLEON'S hand.] + + + CAULAINCOURT + + Why should you bring this cloud upon us now! + + + NAPOLEON + + Restrain your feelings. Let me die in peace.-- + My wife and son I recommend to you; + Give her this letter, and the packet there. + Defend my memory, and protect their lives. + [They shake him. He vomits.] + + + CAULAINCOURT + + He's saved--for good or ill-as may betide! + + + NAPOLEON + + God--here how difficult it is to die: + How easy on the passionate battle-plain! + + [They open a window and carry him to it. He mends.] + + Fate has resolved what man could not resolve. + I must live on, and wait what Heaven may send! + + [MACDONALD and other marshals re-enter. A letter is brought from + MARIE LOUISE. NAPOLEON reads it, and becomes more animated. + + They are well; and they will join me in my exile. + Yes: I will live! The future who shall spell? + My wife, my son, will be enough for me.-- + And I will give my hours to chronicling + In stately words that stir futurity + The might of our unmatched accomplishments; + And in the tale immortalize your names + By linking them with mine. + + [He soon falls into a convalescent sleep. The marshals, etc. go + out. The room is left in darkness.] + + + + SCENE V + + BAYONNE. THE BRITISH CAMP + + [The foreground is an elevated stretch of land, dotted over in rows + with the tents of the peninsular army. On a parade immediately + beyond the tents the infantry are drawn up, awaiting something. + Still farther back, behind a brook, are the French soldiery, also + ranked in the same manner of reposeful expectation. In the middle- + distance we see the town of Bayonne, standing within its zigzag + fortifications at the junction of the river Adour with the Nive. + + On the other side of the Adour rises the citadel, a fortified + angular structure standing detached. A large and brilliant + tricolor flag is waving indolently from a staff on the summit. + The Bay of Biscay, into which the Adour flows, is seen on the + left horizon as a level line. + + The stillness observed by the soldiery of both armies, and by + everything else in the scene except the flag, is at last broken + by the firing of a signal-gun from a battery in the town-wall. + The eyes of the thousands present rivet themselves on the citadel. + Its waving tricolor moves down the flagstaff and disappears.] + + + THE REGIMENTS [unconsciously] + + Ha-a-a-a! + + [In a few seconds there shoots up the same staff another flag--one + intended to be white; but having apparently been folded away a long + time, it is mildewed and dingy. + + From all the guns on the city fortifications a salute peals out. + This is responded to by the English infantry and artillery with a + feu-de-joie.] + + + THE REGIMENTS + + Hurrah-h-h-h! + + [The various battalions are then marched away in their respective + directions and dismissed to their tents. The Bourbon standard is + hoisted everywhere beside those of England, Spain, and Portugal. + The scene shuts.] + + + + SCENE VI + + A HIGHWAY IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF AVIGNON + + [The Rhone, the old city walls, the Rocher des Doms and its + edifices, appear at the back plane of the scene under the + grey light of dawn. In the foreground several postillions + and ostlers with relays of horses are waiting by the roadside, + gazing northward and listening for sounds. A few loungers + have assembled.] + + + FIRST POSTILLION + + He ought to be nigh by this time. I should say he'd be very glad + to get this here Isle of Elba, wherever it may be, if words be true + that he's treated to such ghastly compliments on's way! + + + SECOND POSTILLION + + Blast-me-blue, I don't care what happens to him! Look at Joachim + Murat, him that's made King of Naples; a man who was only in the + same line of life as ourselves, born and bred in Cahors, out in + Perigord, a poor little whindling place not half as good as our + own. Why should he have been lifted up to king's anointment, and + we not even have had a rise in wages? That's what I say. + + + FIRST POSTILLION + + But now, I don't find fault with that dispensation in particular. + It was one of our calling that the Emperor so honoured, after all, + when he might have anointed a tinker, or a ragman, or a street + woman's pensioner even. Who knows but that we should have been + king's too, but for my crooked legs and your running pole-wound? + + + SECOND POSTILLION + + We kings? Kings of the underground country, then, by this time, if + we hadn't been too rotten-fleshed to follow the drum. However, I'll + think over your defence, and I don't mind riding a stage with him, + for that matter, to save him from them that mean mischief here. + I've lost no sons by his battles, like some others we know. + + [Enter a TRAVELLER on horseback.] + + Any tidings along the road, sir of the Emperor Napoleon that was? + + + TRAVELLER + + Tidings verily! He and his escort are threatened by the mob at + every place they come to. A returning courier I have met tells me + that at an inn a little way beyond here they have strung up his + effigy to the sign-post, smeared it with blood, and placarded it + “The Doom that awaits Thee!” He is much delayed by such humorous + insults. I have hastened ahead to escape the uproar. + + + SECOND POSTILLION + + I don't know that you have escaped it. The mob has been waiting + up all night for him here. + + + MARKET-WOMAN [coming up] + + I hope by the Virgin, as 'a called herself, that there'll be no + riots here! Though I have not much pity for a man who could treat + his wife as he did, and that's my real feeling. He might at least + have kept them both on, for half a husband is better than none for + poor women. But I'd show mercy to him, that's true, rather than + have my stall upset, and messes in the streets wi' folks' brains, + and stabbings, and I don't know what all! + + + FIRST POSTILLION + + If we can do the horsing quietly out here, there will be none of + that. He'll dash past the town without stopping at the inn where + they expect to waylay him.--Hark, what's this coming? + + [An approaching cortege is heard. Two couriers enter; then a + carriage with NAPOLEON and BERTRAND; then others with the + Commissioners of the Powers,--all on the way to Elba. + + The carriages halt, and the change of horses is set about instantly. + But before it is half completed BONAPARTE'S arrival gets known, and + throngs of men and women armed with sticks and hammers rush out of + Avignon and surround the carriages.] + + + POPULACE + + Ogre of Corsica! Odious tyrant! Down with Nicholas! + + + BERTRAND [looking out of carriage] + + Silence, and doff your hats, you ill-mannered devils! + + + POPULACE [scornfully] + + Listen to him! Is that the Corsican? No; where is he? Give him up; + give him up! We'll pitch him into the Rhone! + + [Some cling to the wheels of NAPOLEON'S carriage, while others, + more distant, throw stones at it. A stone breaks the carriage + window.] + + + OLD WOMAN [shaking her fist] + + Give me back my two sons, murderer! Give me back my children, whose + flesh is rotting on the Russian plains! + + + POPULACE + + Ay; give us back our kin--our fathers, our brothers, our sons-- + victims to your curst ambition! + + [One of the mob seizes the carriage door-handle and tries to + unfasten it. A valet of BONAPARTE'S seated on the box draws his + sword and threatens to cut the man's arm off. The doors of the + Commissioners' coaches open, and SIR NEIL CAMPBELL, GENERAL + KOLLER, and COUNT SCHUVALOFF--The English, Austrian, and Russian + Commissioners--jump out and come forward.] + + + CAMPBELL + + Keep order, citizens! Do you not know + That the ex-Emperor is wayfaring + To a lone isle, in the Allies' sworn care, + Who have given a pledge to Europe for his safety? + His fangs being drawn, he is left powerless now + To do you further harm. + + + SCHUVALOFF + + People of France + Can you insult so miserable a being? + He who gave laws to a cowed world stands now + At that world's beck, and asks its charity. + Cannot you see that merely to ignore him + Is the worst ignominy to tar him with, + By showing him he's no longer dangerous? + + + OLD WOMAN + + How do we know the villain mayn't come back? + While there is life, my faith, there's mischief in him! + + [Enter an officer with the Town-guard.] + + + OFFICER + + Citizens, I am a zealot for the Bourbons, + As you well know. But wanton breach of faith + I will not brook. Retire! + + [The soldiers drive back the mob and open a passage forward. The + Commissioners re-enter their carriages. NAPOLEON puts his head + out of his window for a moment. He is haggard, shabbily dressed, + yellow-faced, and wild-eyed.] + + + NAPOLEON + + I thank you, captain; + Also your soldiery: a thousand thanks! + [To Bertrand within] My God, these people of Avignon here + Are headstrong fools, like all the Provencal fold, + --I won't go through the town! + + + BERTRAND + + We'll round it, sire; + And then, as soon as we get past the place, + You must disguise for the remainder miles. + + + NAPOLEON + + I'll mount the white cockade if they invite me! + What does it matter if I do or don't? + In Europe all is past and over with me.... + Yes--all is lost in Europe for me now! + + + BERTRAND + + I fear so, sire. + + + NAPOLEON [after some moments] + + But Asia waits a man, + And--who can tell? + + + OFFICER OF GUARD [to postillions] + + Ahead now at full speed, + And slacken not till you have slipped the town. + + [The postillions urge the horses to a gallop, and the carriages + are out of sight in a few seconds. The scene shuts.] + + + + SCENE VII + + MALMAISON. THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE'S BEDCHAMBER + + [The walls are in white panels, with gilt mouldings, and the + furniture is upholstered in white silk with needle-worked flowers. + The long windows and the bed are similarly draped, and the toilet + service is of gold. Through the panes appears a broad flat lawn + adorned with vases and figures on pedestals, and entirely + surrounded by trees--just now in their first fresh green under + the morning rays of Whitsunday. The notes of an organ are audible + from a chapel below, where the Pentecostal Mass is proceeding. + + JOSEPHINE lies in the bed in an advanced stage of illness, the + ABBE BERTRAND standing beside her. Two ladies-in-waiting are + seated near. By the door into the ante-room, which is ajar, + HOREAU the physician-in-ordinary and BOURDOIS the consulting + physician are engaged in a low conversation.] + + + HOREAU + + Lamoureux says that leeches would have saved her + Had they been used in time, before I came. + In that case, then, why did he wait for me? + + + BOURDOIS + + Such whys are now too late! She is past all hope. + I doubt if aught had helped her. Not disease, + But heart-break and repinings are the blasts + That wither her long bloom. Soon we must tell + The Queen Hortense the worst, and the Viceroy. + + + HOREAU + + Her death was made the easier task for grief + [As I regarded more than probable] + By her rash rising from a sore-sick bed + And donning thin and dainty May attire + To hail King Frederick-William and the Tsar + As banquet-guests, in the old regnant style. + A woman's innocent vanity!--but how dire. + She argued that amenities of State + Compelled the effort, since they had honoured her + By offering to come. I stood against it, + Pleaded and reasoned, but to no account. + Poor woman, what she did or did not do + Was of small moment to the State by then! + The Emperor Alexander has been kind + Throughout his stay in Paris. He came down + But yester-eve, of purpose to inquire. + + + BOURDOIS + + Wellington is in Paris, too, I learn, + After his wasted battle at Toulouse. + + + HOREAU + + Has his Peninsular army come with him? + + + BOURDOIS + + I hear they have shipped it to America, + Where England has another war on hand. + We have armies quite sufficient here already-- + Plenty of cooks for Paris broth just now! + --Come, call we Queen Hortense and Prince Eugene. + + [Exeunt physicians. The ABBE BERTRAND also goes out. JOSEPHINE + murmurs faintly.] + + + FIRST LADY [going to the bedside] + + I think I heard you speak, your Majesty? + + + JOSEPHINE + + I asked what hour it was---if dawn or eve? + + + FIRST LADY + + Ten in the morning, Madame. You forget + You asked the same but a brief while ago. + + + JOSEPHINE + + Did I? I thought it was so long ago!... + I wish to go to Elba with him so much, + But the Allies prevented me. And why? + I would not have disgraced him, or themselves! + I would have gone to him at Fontainebleau, + With my eight horses and my household train + In dignity, and quitted him no more.... + Although I am his wife no longer now, + I think I should have gone in spite of them, + Had I not feared perversions might be sown + Between him and the woman of his choice + For whom he sacrificed me. + + + SECOND LADY + + It is more + Than she thought fit to do, your Majesty. + + + JOSEPHINE + + Perhaps she was influenced by her father's ire, + Or diplomatic reasons told against her. + And yet I was surprised she should allow + Aught secondary on earth to hold her from + A husband she has outwardly, at least, + Declared attachment to. + + + FIRST LADY + + Especially, + With ever one at hand--his son and hers-- + Reminding her of him. + + + JOSEPHINE + + Yes.... Glad am I + I saw that child of theirs, though only once. + But--there was not full truth--not quite, I fear-- + In what I told the Emperor that day + He led him to me at Bagatelle, + That 'twas the happiest moment of my life. + I ought not to have said it. No! Forsooth + My feeling had too, too much gall in it + To let truth shape like that!--I also said + That when my arms were round him I forgot + That I was not his mother. So spoke I, + But oh me,--I remembered it too well!-- + He was a lovely child; in his fond prate + His father's voice was eloquent. One might say + I am well punished for my sins against him! + + + SECOND LADY + + You have harmed no creature, madame; much less him! + + + JOSEPHINE + + O but you don't quite know!... My coquetries + In our first married years nigh racked him through. + I cannot think how I could wax so wicked!... + He begged me come to him in Italy, + But I liked flirting in fair Paris best, + And would not go. The independent spouse + At that time was myself; but afterwards + I grew to be the captive, he the free. + Always 'tis so: the man wins finally! + My faults I've ransomed to the bottom sou + If ever a woman did!... I'll write to him-- + I must--again, so that he understands. + Yes, I'll write now. Get me a pen and paper. + + + FIRST LADY [to Second Lady] + + 'Tis futile! She is too far gone to write; + But we must humour her. + + [They fetch writing materials. On returning to the bed they find + her motionless. Enter EUGENE and QUEEN HORTENSE. Seeing the state + their mother is in, they fall down on their knees by her bed. + JOSEPHINE recognizes them and smiles. Anon she is able to speak + again.] + + + JOSEPHINE [faintly] + + I am dying, dears; + And do not mind it--notwithstanding that + I feel I die regretted. You both love me!-- + And as for France, I ever have desired + Her welfare, as you know--have wrought all things + A woman's scope could reach to forward it.... + And to you now who watch my ebbing here, + Declare I that Napoleon's first-chose wife + Has never caused her land a needless tear. + Tell him--these things I have said--bear him my love-- + Tell him--I could not write! + + [An interval. She spasmodically flings her arms over her son and + daughter, lets them fall, and becomes unconscious. They fetch a + looking-glass, and find that her breathing has ceased. The clock + of the Chateau strikes noon. The scene is veiled.] + + + + SCENE VIII + + LONDON. THE OPERA HOUSE + + [The house is lighted up with a blaze of wax candles, and a State + performance is about to begin in honour of the Allied sovereigns + now on a visit to England to celebrate the Peace. Peace-devices + adorn the theatre. A band can be heard in the street playing + “The White Cockade.” + + An extended Royal box has been formed by removing the partitions + of adjoining boxes. It is empty as yet, but the other parts of + the house are crowded to excess, and somewhat disorderly, the + interior doors having been broken down by besiegers, and many + people having obtained admission without payment. The prevalent + costume of the ladies is white satin and diamonds, with a few in + lilac. + + The curtain rises on the first act of the opera of “Aristodemo,” + MADAME GRASSINI and SIGNOR TRAMEZZINI being the leading voices. + Scarcely a note of the performance can be heard amid the exclamations + of persons half suffocated by the pressure. + + At the end of the first act there follows a divertissement. The + curtain having fallen, a silence of expectation succeeds. It is + a little past ten o'clock. + + Enter the Royal box the PRINCE REGENT, accompanied by the EMPEROR + OF RUSSIA, demonstrative in manner now as always, the KING OF + PRUSSIA, with his mien of reserve, and many minor ROYAL PERSONAGES + of Europe. There are moderate acclamations. At their back and in + neighbouring boxes LORD LIVERPOOL, LORD CASTLEREAGH, officers in + the suite of the sovereigns, interpreters, and others take their + places. + + The curtain rises again, and the performers are discovered drawn + up in line on the stage. They sing “God save the King.” The + sovereigns stand up, bow, and resume their seats amid more + applause.] + + + A VOICE [from the gallery] + + Prinny, where's your wife? [Confusion.] + + + EMPEROR OF RUSSIA [to Regent] + + To which of us is the inquiry addressed, Prince? + + + PRINCE REGENT + + To you, sire, depend upon't--by way of compliment. + + [The second act of the Opera proceeds.] + + + EMPEROR OF RUSSIA + + Any later news from Elba, sir? + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Nothing more than rumours, which, 'pon my honour, I can hardly + credit. One is that Bonaparte's valet has written to say the + ex-Emperor is becoming imbecile, and is an object of ridicule to + the inhabitants of the island. + + + KING OF PRUSSIA + + A blessed result, sir, if true. If he is not imbecile he is worse + --planning how to involve Europe in another way. It was a short- + sighted policy to offer him a home so near as to ensure its becoming + a hot-bed of intrigue and conspiracy in no long time! + + + PRINCE REGENT + + The ex-Empress, Marie-Louise, hasn't joined him after all, I learn. + Has she remained at Schonbrunn since leaving France, sires? + + + EMPEROR OF RUSSIA + + Yes, sir; with her son. She must never go back to France. Metternich + and her father will know better than let her do that. Poor young + thing, I am sorry for her all the same. She would have joined + Napoleon if she had been left to herself.--And I was sorry for the + other wife, too. I called at Malmaison a few days before she died. + A charming woman! SHE would have gone to Elba or to the devil with + him. Twenty thousand people crowded down from Paris to see her lying + in state last week. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Pity she didn't have a child by him, by God. + + + KING OF PRUSSIA + + I don't think the other one's child is going to trouble us much. + But I wish Bonaparte himself had been sent farther away. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Some of our Government wanted to pack him off to St. Helena--an + island somewhere in the Atlantic, or Pacific, or Great South Sea. + But they were over-ruled. 'Twould have been a surer game. + + + EMPEROR OF RUSSIA + + One hears strange stories of his saying and doings. Some of my + people were telling me to-day that he says it is to Austria that + he really owes his fall, and that he ought to have destroyed her + when he had her in his power. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Dammy, sire, don't ye think he owes his fall to his ambition to + humble England by rupture of the Peace of Amiens, and trying to + invade us, and wasting his strength against us in the Peninsula? + + + EMPEROR OF RUSSIA + + I incline to think, with the greatest deference, that it was Moscow + that broke him. + + + KING OF PRUSSIA + + The rejection of my conditions in the terms of peace at Prague, sires, + was the turning-point towards his downfall. + + [Enter a box on the opposite side of the house the PRINCESS OF + WALES, attended by LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL, SIR W. GELL, and + others. Louder applause now rings through the theatre, drowning + the sweet voice of the GRASSINI in “Aristodemo.”] + + + LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL + + It is meant for your Royal Highness! + + + PRINCESS OF WALES + + I don't think so, my dear. Punch's wife is nobody when Punch himself + is present. + + + LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL + + I feel convinced that it is by their looking this way. + + + SIR W. GELL + + Surely ma'am you will acknowledge their affection? Otherwise we may + be hissed. + + + PRINCESS OF WALES + + I know my business better than to take that morsel out of my husband's + mouth. There--you see he enjoys it! I cannot assume that it is + meant for me unless they call my name. + + [The PRINCE REGENT rises and bows, the TSAR and the KING OF PRUSSIA + doing the same.] + + + LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL + + He and the others are bowing for you, ma'am! + + + PRINCESS OF WALES + + Mine God, then; I will bow too! [She rises and bends to them.] + + + PRINCE REGENT + + She thinks we rose on her account.--A damn fool. [Aside.] + + + EMPEROR OF RUSSIA + + What--didn't we? I certainly rose in homage to her. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + No, sire. We were supposed to rise to the repeated applause of the + people. + + + EMPEROR OF RUSSIA + + H'm. Your customs sir, are a little puzzling.... [To the King of + Prussia.] A fine-looking woman! I must call upon the Princess of + Wales to-morrow. + + + KING OF PRUSSIA + + I shall, at any rate, send her my respects by my chamberlain. + + + PRINCE REGENT [stepping back to Lord Liverpool] + + By God, Liverpool, we must do something to stop 'em! They don't + know what a laughing-stock they'll make of me if they go to her. + Tell 'em they had better not. + + + LIVERPOOL + + I can hardly tell them now, sir, while we are celebrating the Peace + and Wellington's victories. + + + PRINCE REGENT + + Oh, damn the peace, and damn the war, and damn Boney, and damn + Wellington's victories!--the question is, how am I to get over this + infernal woman!--Well, well,--I must write, or send Tyrwhitt to- + morrow morning, begging them to abandon the idea of visiting her + for politic reasons. + + [The Opera proceeds to the end, and is followed by a hymn and + chorus laudatory to peace. Next a new ballet by MONSIEUR VESTRIS, + in which M. ROZIER and MADAME ANGIOLINI dance a pas-de-deux. Then + the Sovereigns leave the theatre amid more applause. + + The pit and gallery now call for the PRINCESS OF WALES unmistakably. + She stand up and is warmly acclaimed, returning three stately + curtseys.] + + + A VOICE + + Shall we burn down Carlton House, my dear, and him in it? + + + PRINCESS OF WALES + + No, my good folks! Be quiet. Go home to your beds, and let me do + the same. + + [After some difficulty she gets out of the house. The people thin + away. As the candle-snuffers extinguish the lights a shouting is + heard without.] + + + VOICES OF CROWD + + Long life to the Princess of Wales! Three cheers for a woman wronged! + + [The Opera-house becomes lost in darkness.] + + + + +ACT FIFTH + + + SCENE I + + ELBA. THE QUAY, PORTO FERRAJO + + [Night descends upon a beautiful blue cove, enclosed on three sides + by mountains. The port lies towards the western [right-hand] horn + of the concave, behind it being the buildings of the town; their + long white walls and rows of windows rise tier above tier on the + steep incline at the back, and are intersected by narrow alleys + and flights of steps that lead up to forts on the summit. + + Upon a rock between two of these forts stands the Palace of the + Mulini, NAPOLEONS'S residence in Ferrajo. Its windows command + the whole town and the port.] + + + CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music] + + The Congress of Vienna sits, + And war becomes a war of wits, + Where every Power perpends withal + Its dues as large, its friends' as small; + Till Priests of Peace prepare once more + To fight as they have fought before! + + In Paris there is discontent; + Medals are wrought that represent + One now unnamed. Men whisper, “He + Who once has been, again will be!” + + + DUMB SHOW + + Under cover of the dusk there assembles in the bay a small flotilla + comprising a brig called _l'Inconstant_ and several lesser vessels. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + The guardian on behalf of the Allies + Absents himself from Elba. Slow surmise + Too vague to pen, too actual to ignore, + Have strained him hour by hour, and more and more. + He takes the sea to Florence, to declare + His doubts to Austria's ministrator there. + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + When he returns, Napoleon will be--where? + + + Boats put off from these ships to the quay, where are now discovered + to have silently gathered a body of grenadiers of the Old Guard. The + faces of DROUOT and CAMBRONNE are revealed by the occasional fleck of + a lantern to be in command of them. They are quietly taken aboard + the brig, and a number of men of different arms to the other vessels. + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music] + + Napoleon is going, + And nought will prevent him; + He snatches the moment + Occasion has lent him! + + And what is he going for, + Worn with war's labours? + --To reconquer Europe + With seven hundred sabres. + + + About eight o'clock we observe that the windows of the Palace of + the Mulini are lighted and open, and that two women sit at them: + the EMPEROR'S mother and the PRINCESS PAULINE. They wave adieux + to some one below, and in a short time a little open low-wheeled + carriage, drawn by the PRINCESS PAULINE'S two ponies, descends + from the house to the port. The crowd exclaims “The Emperor!” + NAPOLEON appears in his grey great-coat, and is much fatter than + when he left France. BERTRAND sits beside him. + + He quickly alights and enters the waiting boat. It is a tense + moment. As the boat rows off the sailors sing the Marseillaise, + and the gathered inhabitants join in. When the boat reaches the + brig its sailors join in also, and shout “Paris or death!” Yet + the singing has a melancholy cadence. A gun fires as a signal + of departure. The night is warm and balmy for the season. Not + a breeze is there to stir a sail, and the ships are motionless. + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS + + Haste is salvation; + And still he stays waiting: + The calm plays the tyrant, + His venture belating! + + Should the corvette return + With the anxious Scotch colonel, + Escape would be frustrate, + Retention eternal. + + + Four aching hours are spent thus. NAPOLEON remains silent on the + deck, looking at the town lights, whose reflections bore like augers + into the water of the bay. The sails hang flaccidly. Then a feeble + breeze, then a strong south wind, begins to belly the sails; and the + vessels move. + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS + + The south wind, the south wind, + The south wind will save him, + Embaying the frigate + Whose speed would enslave him; + Restoring the Empire + That fortune once gave him! + + + The moon rises and the ships silently disappear over the horizon + as it mounts higher into the sky. + + + + SCENE II + + VIENNA. THE IMPERIAL PALACE + + [The fore-part of the scene is the interior of a dimly lit gallery + with an openwork screen or grille on one side of it that commands + a bird's-eye view of the grand saloon below. At present the screen + is curtained. Sounds of music and applause in the saloon ascend + into the gallery, and an irradiation from the same quarter shines + up through chinks in the curtains of the grille. + + Enter the gallery MARIE LOUISE and the COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE, + followed by the COUNT NEIPPERG, a handsome man of forty two with + a bandage over one eye.] + + + COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE + + Listen, your Majesty. You gather all + As well as if you moved amid them there, + And are advantaged with free scope to flit + The moment the scene palls. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + Ah, my dear friend, + To put it so is flower-sweet of you; + But a fallen Empress, doomed to furtive peeps + At scenes her open presence would unhinge, + Reads not much interest in them! Yet, in truth, + 'Twas gracious of my father to arrange + This glimpse-hole for my curiosity. + --But I must write a letter ere I look; + You can amuse yourself with watching them.-- + Count, bring me pen and paper. I am told + Madame de Montesquiou has been distressed + By some alarm; I write to ask its shape. + + [NEIPPERG spreads writing materials on a table, and MARIE LOUISE + sits. While she writes he stays near her. MADAME DE BRIGNOLE + goes to the screen and parts the curtains. + + The light of a thousand candles blazes up into her eyes from + below. The great hall is decorated in white and silver, enriched + by evergreens and flowers. At the end a stage is arranged, and + Tableaux Vivants are in progress thereon, representing the history + of the House of Austria, in which figure the most charming women + of the Court. + + There are present as spectators nearly all the notables who have + assembled for the Congress, including the EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA + himself, has gay wife, who quite eclipses him, the EMPEROR + ALEXANDER, the KING OF PRUSSIA--still in the mourning he has + never abandoned since the death of QUEEN LUISA,--the KING + OF BAVARIA and his son, METTERNICH, TALLEYRAND, WELLINGTON, + NESSELRODE, HARDENBERG; and minor princes, ministers, and + officials of all nations.] + + + COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE [suddenly from he grille] + + Something has happened--so it seems, madame! + The Tableau gains no heed from them, and all + Turn murmuring together. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + What may be? + + [She rises with languid curiosity, and COUNT NEIPPERG adroitly + takes her hand and leads her forward. All three look down through + the grille.] + + + NEIPPERG + + some strange news, certainly, your Majesty, + Is being discussed.--I'll run down and inquire. + + + MARIE LOUISE [playfully] + + Nay--stay here. We shall learn soon enough. + + + NEIPPERG + + Look at their faces now. Count Metternich + Stares at Prince Talleyrand--no muscle moving. + The King of Prussia blinks bewilderedly + Upon Lord Wellington. + + + MARIE LOUISE [concerned] + + Yes; so it seems.... + They are thunderstruck. See, though the music beats, + The ladies of the Tableau leave their place, + And mingle with the rest, and quite forget + That they are in masquerade. The sovereigns show + By far the gravest mien.... I wonder, now, + If it has aught to do with me or mine? + Disasters mostly have to do with me! + + + COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE + + Those rude diplomists from England there, + At your Imperial father's consternation, + And Russia's, and the King of Prussia's gloom, + Shake shoulders with hid laughter! That they call + The English sense of humour, I infer,-- + To see a jest in other people's troubles! + + + MARIE LOUISE [hiding her presages] + + They ever take things thus phlegmatically: + The safe sea minimizes Continental scare + In their regard. I wish it did in mine! + But Wellington laughs not, as I discern. + + + NEIPPERG + + Perhaps, though fun for the other English here, + It means new work for him. Ah--notice now + The music makes no more pretence to play! + Sovereigns and ministers have moved apart, + And talk, and leave the ladies quite aloof-- + Even the Grand Duchesses and Empress, all-- + Such mighty cogitations trance their minds! + + + MARIE LOUISE [with more anxiety] + + Poor ladies; yea, they draw into the rear, + And whisper ominous words among themselves! + Count Neipperg--I must ask you now--go glean + What evil lowers. I am riddled through + With strange surmises and more strange alarms! + + [The COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU enters.] + + Ah--we shall learn it now. Well--what, madame? + + + COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU [breathlessly] + + Your Majesty, the Emperor Napoleon + Has vanished from Elba! Wither flown, + And how, and why, nobody says or knows. + + + MARIE LOUISE [sinking into a chair] + + My divination pencilled on my brain + Something not unlike that! The rigid mien + That mastered Wellington suggested it.... + Complicity will be ascribed to me, + Unwitting though I stand!... [A pause.] + He'll not succeed! + And my fair plans for Parma will be marred, + And my son's future fouled!--I must go hence, + And instantly declare to Metternich + That I know nought of this; and in his hands + Place me unquestioningly, with dumb assent + To serve the Allies.... Methinks that I was born + Under an evil-coloured star, whose ray + Darts death at joys!--Take me away, Count.--You [to the ladies] + Can stay and see the end. + + [Exeunt MARIE LOUISE and NEIPPERG. MESDAMES DE MONTESQUIOU and + DE BRIGNOLE go to the grille and watch and listen.] + + + VOICE OF ALEXANDER [below] + + I told you, Prince, that it would never last! + + + VOICE OF TALLEYRAND + + Well, sire, you should have sent him to the Azores, + Or the Antilles, or best, Saint-Helena. + + + VOICE OF THE KING OF PRUSSIA + + Instead, we send him but two days from France, + Give him an island as his own domain, + A military guard of large resource, + And millions for his purse! + + + ANOTHER VOICE + + The immediate cause + Must be a negligence in watching him. + The British Colonel Campbell should have seen + That apertures for flight were wired and barred + To such a cunning bird! + + + ANOTHER VOICE + + By all report + He took the course direct to Naples Bay. + + + VOICES [of new arrivals] + + He has made his way to France--so all tongues tell-- + And landed there, at Cannes! [Excitement.] + + + COUNTESS OF BRIGNOLE + + Do now but note + How cordial intercourse resolves itself + To sparks of sharp debate! The lesser guests + Are fain to steal unnoticed from a scene + Wherein they feel themselves as surplusage + Beside the official minds.--I catch a sign + The King of Prussia makes the English Duke; + They leave the room together. + + + COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU + + Yes; wit wanes, + And all are going--Prince Talleyrand, + The Emperor Alexander, Metternich, + The Emperor Francis.... So much for the Congress! + Only a few blank nobodies remain, + And they seem terror-stricken.... Blackly ends + Such fair festivities. The red god War + Stalks Europe's plains anew! + + [The curtain of the grille is dropped. MESDAMES DE MONTESQUIOU + and DE BRIGNOLE leave the gallery. The light is extinguished + there and the scene disappears.] + + + + SCENE III + + LA MURE, NEAR GRENOBLE + + [A lonely road between a lake and some hills, two or three miles + outside the village of la Mure, is discovered. A battalion of + the Fifth French royalist regiment of the line under COMMANDANT + LESSARD, is drawn up in the middle of the road with a company of + sappers and miners, comprising altogether about eight hundred men. + + Enter to them from the south a small detachment of lancers with + an aide-de-camp at their head. They ride up to within speaking + distance.] + + + LESSARD + + They are from Bonaparte. Present your arms! + + + AIDE [calling] + + We'd parley on Napoleon's behalf, + And fain would ask you join him. + + + LESSARD + + Al parole + With rebel bands the Government forbids. + Come five steps further and we fire! + + + AIDE + + To France, + And to posterity through fineless time, + Must you then answer for so foul a blow + Against the common weal! + + [NAPOLEON'S aide-de-camp and the lancers turn about and ride + back out of sight. The royalist troops wait. Presently there + reappears from the same direction a small column of soldiery, + representing the whole of NAPOLEON'S little army shipped from + Elba. It is divided into an advance-guard under COLONEL MALLET, + and two bodies behind, a troop of Polish lancers under COLONEL + JERMANWSKI on the right side of the road, and some officers + without troops on the left, under MAJOR PACCONI. + + NAPOLEON rides in the midst of the advance-guard, in the old + familiar “redingote grise,” cocked hat, and tricolor cockade, + his well-known profile keen against the hills. He is attended + by GENERALS BERTRAND, DROUOT, and CAMBRONNE. When they get within + gun-shot of the royalists the men are halted. NAPOLEON dismounts + and steps forward.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Direct the men + To lodge their weapons underneath the arm, + Points downward. I shall not require them here. + + + COLONEL MALLET + + Sire, is it not a needless jeopardy + To meet them thus? The sentiments of these + We do not know, and the first trigger pressed + May end you. + + + NAPOLEON + + I have thought it out, my friend, + And value not my life as in itself, + But as to France, severed from whose embrace] + I am dead already. + + [He repeats the order, which is carried out. There is a breathless + silence, and people from the village gather round with tragic + expectations. NAPOLEON walks on alone towards the Fifth battalion, + Throwing open his great-coat and revealing his uniform and the + ribbon of the Legion of Honour. Raising his hand to his hat he + salutes.] + + + LESSARD + + Present arms! + + [The firelocks of the royalist battalion are levelled at NAPOLEON.] + + + NAPOLEON [still advancing] + + Men of the Fifth, + See--here I am!... Old friends, do you not know me? + If there be one among you who would slay + His Chief of proud past years, let him come on + And do it now! [A pause.] + + + LESSARD [to his next officer] + + They are death-white at his words! + They'll fire not on this man. And I am helpless. + + + SOLDIERS [suddenly] + + Why yes! We know you, father. Glad to see ye! + The Emperor for ever! Ha! Huzza! + + [They throw their arms upon the ground, and, rushing forward, + sink down and seize NAPOLEON'S knees and kiss his hands. Those + who cannot get near him wave their shakos and acclaim him + passionately. BERTRAND, DROUOT, and CAMBRONNE come up.] + + + NAPOLEON [privately] + + All is accomplished, Bertrand! Ten days more, + And we are snug within the Tuileries. + + [The soldiers tear out their white cockades and trample on them, + and disinter from the bottom of their knapsacks tricolors, which + they set up. + + NAPOLEON'S own men now arrive, and fraternize with and embrace + the soldiers of the Fifth. When the emotion has subsided, + NAPOLEON forms the whole body into a square and addresses them.] + + Soldiers, I came with these few faithful ones + To save you from the Bourbons,--treasons, tricks, + Ancient abuses, feudal tyranny-- + From which I once of old delivered you. + The Bourbon throne is illegitimate + Because not founded on the nation's will, + But propped up for the profit of a few. + Comrades, is this not so? + + + A GRENADIER + + Yes, verily, sire. + You are the Angel of the Lord to us; + We'll march with you to death or victory! [Shouts.] + + [At this moment a howling dog crosses in front of them with a + cockade tied to its tail. The soldiery of both sides laugh + loudly. + + NAPOLEON forms both bodies of troops into one column. Peasantry + run up with buckets of sour wine and a single glass; NAPOLEON + takes his turn with the rank and file in drinking from it. He + bids the whole column follow him to Grenoble and Paris. Exeunt + soldiers headed by NAPOLEON. The scene shuts.] + + + + SCENE IV + + SCHONBRUNN + + [The gardens of the Palace. Fountains and statuary are seen + around, and the Gloriette colonnade rising against the sky on + a hill behind. + + The ex-EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE is discovered walking up and down. + Accompanying her is the KING OF ROME--now a blue-eye, fair-haired + child--in the charge of the COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU. Close by is + COUNT NEIPPERG, and at a little distance MENEVAL, her attendant + and Napoleon's adherent. + + The EMPEROR FRANCIS and METTERNICH enter at the other end of the + parterre.] + + + MARIE LOUISE [with a start] + + Here are the Emperor and Prince Metternich. + Wrote you as I directed? + + + NEIPPERG + + Promptly so. + I said your Majesty had not part + In this mad move of your Imperial spouse, + And made yourself a ward of the Allies; + Adding, that you had vowed irrevocably + To enter France no more. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + Your worthy zeal + Has been a trifle swift. My meaning stretched + Not quite so far as that.... And yet--and yet + It matters little. Nothing matters much! + + [The EMPEROR and METTERNICH come forward. NEIPPERG retires.] + + + FRANCIS + + My daughter, you did not a whit too soon + Voice your repudiation. Have you seen + What the allies have papered Europe with? + + + MARIE LOUISE + + I have seen nothing. + + + FRANCIS + + Please you read it, Prince. + + + METTERNICH [taking out a paper] + + “The Powers assembled at the Congress here + Owe it to their own troths and dignities, + And to the furtherance of social order, + To make a solemn Declaration, thus: + By breaking the convention as to Elba, + Napoleon Bonaparte forthwith destroys + His only legal title to exist, + And as a consequence has hurled himself + Beyond the pale of civil intercourse. + Disturber of the tranquillity of the world, + There can be neither peace nor truce with him, + And public vengeance is his self-sought doom.-- + Signed by the Plenipotentiaries.” + + + MARIE LOUISE [pale] + + O God, + How terrible!... What shall---[she begins weeping.] + + + KING OF ROME + + Is it papa + They want to hurt like that, dear Mamma 'Quiou? + Then 'twas no good my praying for him so; + And I can see that I am not going to be + A King much longer! + + + COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU [retiring with the child] + + Pray for him, Monseigneur, + Morning and evening just the same! They plan + To take you off from me. But don't forget-- + Do as I say! + + + KING OF ROME + + Yes, Mamma 'Quiou, I will!-- + But why have I no pages now? And why + Does my mamma the Empress weep so much? + + + COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU + + We'll talk elsewhere. + + [MONTESQUIOU and the KING OF ROME withdraw to back.] + + + FRANCIS + + At least, then, you agree + Not to attempt to follow Paris-ward + Your conscience-lacking husband, and create + More troubles in the State?--Remember this, + I sacrifice my every man and horse + Ere he Rule France again. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + I am pledged already + To hold by the Allies; let that suffice! + + + METTERNICH + + For the clear good of all, your Majesty, + And for your safety and the King of Rome's, + It most befits that your Imperial father + Should have sole charge of the young king henceforth, + While these convulsions rage. That this is so + You will see, I think, in view of being installed + As Parma's Duchess, and take steps therefor. + + + MARIE LOUISE [coldly] + + I understand the terms to be as follows: + Parma is mine--my very own possession,-- + And as a counterquit, the guardianship + Is ceded to my father of my son, + And I keep out of France. + + + METTERNICH + + And likewise this: + All missives that your Majesty receives + Under Napoleon's hand, you tender straight + The Austrian Cabinet, the seals unbroke; + With those received already. + + + FRANCIS + + You discern + How vastly to the welfare of your son + This course must tend? Duchess of Parma throned + You shine a wealthy woman, to endow + Your son with fortune and large landed fee. + + + MARIE LOUISE [bitterly] + + I must have Parma: and those being the terms + Perforce accept! I weary of the strain + Of statecraft and political embroil: + I long for private quiet!... And now wish + To say no more at all. + + [MENEVAL, who has heard her latter remarks, turns sadly away.] + + + FRANCIS + + There's nought to say; + All is in train to work straightforwardly. + + [FRANCIS and METTERNICH depart. MARIE LOUISE retires towards the + child and the COUNTESS OF MONTESQUIOU at the back of the parterre, + where they are joined by NEIPPERG. + + Enter in front DE MONTROND, a secret emissary of NAPOLEON, disguised + as a florist examining the gardens. MENEVAL recognizes him and + comes forward.] + + + MENEVAL + + Why are you here, de Montrond? All is hopeless! + + + DE MONTROND + + Wherefore? The offer of the Regency + I come empowered to make, and will conduct her + Safely to Strassburg with her little son, + If she shrink not to breech her as a man, + And tiptoe from a postern unperceived? + + + MENEVAL + + Though such quaint gear would mould her to a youth + Fair as Adonis on a hunting morn, + Yet she'll refuse! A German prudery + Sits on her still; more, kneaded by her arts + There's no will left to her. I conjured her + To hold aloof, sign nothing. But in vain. + + + DE MONTROND [looking towards Marie Louise] + + I fain would put it to her privately! + + + MENEVAL + + A thing impossible. No word to her + Without a word to him you see with her, + Neipperg to wit. She grows indifferent + To dreams as Regent; visioning a future + Wherein her son and self are two of three + But where the third is not Napoleon. + + + DE MONTROND [In sad surprise] + + I may as well go hence then as I came, + And kneel to Heaven for one thing--that success + Attend Napoleon in the coming throes! + + + MENEVAL + + I'll walk with you for safety to the gate, + Though I am as the Emperor's man suspect, + And any day may be dismissed. If so + I go to Paris. + + [Exeunt MENEVAL and DE MONTROND.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Had he but persevered, and biassed her + To slip the breeches on, and hie away, + Who knows but that the map of France had shaped + And it will never now! + + [There enters from the other side of the gardens MARIA CAROLINA, + ex-Queen of Naples, and grandmother of Marie Louise. The latter, + dismissing MONTESQUIOU and the child, comes forward.] + + + MARIA CAROLINA + + I have crossed from Hetzendorf to kill an hour; + Why art so pensive, dear? + + + MARIE LOUISE + + Ah, why! My lines + Rule ruggedly. You doubtless have perused + This vicious cry against the Emperor? + He's outlawed--to be caught alive or dead, + Like any noisome beast! + + + MARIA CAROLINA + + Nought have I heard, + My child. But these vile tricks, to pluck you from + Your nuptial plightage and your rightful glory + Make me belch oaths!--You shall not join your husband + Do they assert? My God, I know one thing, + Outlawed or no, I'd knot my sheets forthwith, + Were I but you, and steal to him in disguise, + Let come what would come! Marriage is for life. + + + MARIE LOUISE + + Mostly; not always: not with Josephine; + And, maybe, not with me. But, that apart, + I could do nothing so outrageous. + Too many things, dear grand-dame, you forget. + A puppet I, by force inflexible, + Was bid to wed Napoleon at a nod,-- + The man acclaimed to me from cradle-days + As the incarnate of all evil things, + The Antichrist himself.--I kissed the cup, + Gulped down the inevitable, and married him; + But none the less I saw myself therein + The lamb whose innocent flesh was dressed to grace + The altar of dynastic ritual!-- + Hence Elba flung no duty-call to me, + Neither does Paris now. + + + MARIA CAROLINA + + I do perceive + They have worked on you to much effect already! + Go, join your Count; he waits you, dear.--Well, well; + The way the wind blows needs no cock to tell! + + [Exeunt severally QUEEN MARIA CAROLINA and MARIE LOUISE with + NEIPPERG. The sun sets over the gardens and the scene fades.] + + + + SCENE V + + LONDON. THE OLD HOUSE OF COMMONS + + [The interior of the Chamber appears as in Scene III., Act I., + Part I., except that the windows are not open and the trees + without are not yet green. + + Among the Members discovered in their places are, of ministers + and their supporters, LORD CASTLEREAGH the Foreign Secretary, + VANSITTART Chancellor of the Exchequer, BATHURST, PALMERSTON + the War Secretary, ROSE, PONSONBY, ARBUTHNOT, LUSHINGTON, GARROW + the Attorney General, SHEPHERD, LONG, PLUNKETT, BANKES; and among + those of the Opposition SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, WHITBREAD, TIERNEY, + ABERCROMBY, DUNDAS, BRAND, DUNCANNON, LAMBTON, HEATHCOTE, SIR + SAMUEL ROMILLY, G. WALPOLE, RIDLEY, OSBORNE, and HORNER. + + Much interest in the debate is apparent, and the galleries are + full. LORD CASTLEREAGH rises.] + + + CASTLEREAGH + + At never a moment in my stressed career, + Amid no memory-moving urgencies, + Have I, sir, felt so gravely set on me + The sudden, vast responsibility + That I feel now. Few things conceivable + Could more momentous to the future be + Than what may spring from counsel here to-night + On means to meet the plot unparalleled + In full fierce play elsewhere. Sir, this being so, + And seeing how the events of these last days + Menace the toil of twenty anxious years, + And peril all that period's patient aim, + No auguring mind can doubt that deeds which root + In steadiest purpose only, will effect + Deliverance from a world-calamity + As dark as any in the vaults of Time. + + Now, what we notice front and foremost is + That this convulsion speaks not, pictures not + The heart of France. It comes of artifice-- + From the unique and sinister influence + Of a smart army-gamester--upon men + Who have shared his own excitements, spoils, and crimes.-- + This man, who calls himself most impiously + The Emperor of France by Grace of God, + Has, in the scale of human character, + Dropt down so low, that he has set at nought + All pledges, stipulations, guarantees, + And stepped upon the only pedestal + On which he cares to stand--his lawless will. + Indeed, it is a fact scarce credible + That so mysteriously in his own breast + Did this adventurer lock the scheme he planned, + That his companion Bertrand, chief in trust, + Was unapprised thereof until the hour + In which the order to embark was given! + + I think the House will readily discern + That the wise, wary trackway to be trod + By our own country in the crisis reached, + Must lie 'twixt two alternatives,--of war + In concert with the Continental Powers, + Or of an armed and cautionary course + Sufficing for the present phase of things. + + Whatever differences of view prevail + On the so serious and impending question-- + Whether in point of prudent reckoning + 'Twere better let the power set up exist, + Or promptly at the outset deal with it-- + Still, to all eyes it is imperative + That some mode of safeguardance be devised; + And if I cannot range before the House, + At this stage, all the reachings of the case, + I will, if needful, on some future day + Poise these nice matters on their merits here. + + Meanwhile I have to move: + That an address unto His Royal Highness + Be humbly offered for his gracious message, + And to assure him that his faithful Commons + Are fully roused to the dark hazardries + To which the life and equanimity + Of Europe are exposed by deeds in France, + In contravention of the plighted pacts + At Paris in the course of yester-year. + + That, in a cause of such wide-waked concern, + It doth afford us real relief to know + That concert with His Majesty's Allies + Is being effected with no loss of time-- + Such concert as will thoroughly provide + For Europe's full and long security. [Cheers.] + + That we, with zeal, will speed such help to him + So to augment his force by sea and land + As shall empower him to set afoot + Swift measures meet for its accomplishing. [Cheers.] + + + BURDETT + + It seems to me almost impossible, + Weighing the language of the noble lord, + To catch its counsel,--whether peace of war. [Hear, hear.] + If I translate his words to signify + The high expediency of watch and ward, + That we may not be taken unawares, + I own concurrence; but if he propose + Too plunge this realm into a sea of blood + To reinstate the Bourbon line in France, + I should but poorly do my duty here + Did I not lift my voice protestingly + Against so ruinous an enterprise! + + Sir, I am old enough to call to mind + The first fierce frenzies for the selfsame end, + The fruit of which was to endow this man, + The object of your apprehension now, + With such a might as could not be withstood + By all of banded Europe, till he roamed + And wrecked it wantonly on Russian plains. + Shall, then, another score of scourging years + Distract this land to make a Bourbon king? + Wrongly has Bonaparte's late course been called + A rude incursion on the soil of France.-- + Who ever knew a sole and single man + Invade a nation thirty million strong, + And gain in some few days full sovereignty + Against the nation's will!--The truth is this: + The nation longed for him, and has obtained him.... + + I have beheld the agonies of war + Through many a weary season; seen enough + To make me hold that scarcely any goal + Is worth the reaching by so red a road. + No man can doubt that this Napoleon stands + As Emperor of France by Frenchmen's wills. + Let the French settle, then, their own affairs; + I say we shall have nought to apprehend!-- + + Much as I might advance in proof of this, + I'll dwell not thereon now. I am satisfied + To give the general reasons which, in brief, + Balk my concurrence in the Address proposed. [Cheers.] + + + PONSONBY + + My words will be but few, for the Address + Constrains me to support it as it stands. + So far from being the primary step to war, + Its sense and substance is, in my regard, + To leave the House to guidance by events + On the grave question of hostilities. + + The statements of the noble lord, I hold, + Have not been candidly interpreted + By grafting on to them a headstrong will, + As does the honourable baronet, + To rob the French of Buonaparte's rule, + And force them back to Bourbon monarchism. + That our free land, at this abnormal time, + Should put her in a pose of wariness, + No unwarped mind can doubt. Must war revive, + Let it be quickly waged; and quickly, too, + Reach its effective end: though 'tis my hope, + My ardent hope, that peace may be preserved. + + + WHITBREAD + + Were it that I could think, as does my friend, + That ambiguity of sentiment + Informed the utterance of the noble lord + [As oft does ambiguity of word], + I might with satisfied and sure resolve + Vote straight for the Address. But eyeing well + The flimsy web there woven to entrap + The credence of my honourable friends, + I must with all my energy contest + The wisdom of a new and hot crusade + For fixing who shall fill the throne of France. + + Already are the seeds of mischief sown: + The Declaration at Vienna, signed + Against Napoleon, is, in my regard, + Abhorrent, and our country's character + Defaced by our subscription to its terms! + If words have any meaning it incites + To sheer assassination; it proclaims + That any meeting Bonaparte may slay him; + And, whatso language the Allies now hold, + In that outburst, at least, was war declared. + The noble lord to-night would second it, + Would seem to urge that we full arm, then wait + For just as long, no longer, than would serve + The preparations of the other Powers, + And then--pounce down on France! + + + CASTLEREAGH + + No, no! Not so. + + + WHITBREAD + + Good God, then, what are we to understand?-- + However, this denial is a gain, + And my misapprehension owes its birth + Entirely to that mystery of phrase + Which taints all rhetoric of the noble lord, + + Well, what is urged for new aggression now, + To vamp up and replace the Bourbon line? + The wittiest man who ever sat here[21] said + That half our nation's debt had been incurred + In efforts to suppress the Bourbon power, + The other half in efforts to restore it, [laughter] + And I must deprecate a further plunge + For ends so futile! Why, since Ministers + Craved peace with Bonaparte at Chatillon, + Should they refuse him peace and quiet now? + + This brief amendment therefore I submit + To limit Ministers' aggressiveness + And make self-safety all their chartering: + “We at the same time earnestly implore + That the Prince Regent graciously induce + Strenuous endeavours in the cause of peace, + So long as it be done consistently + With the due honour of the English crown.” [Cheers.] + + + CASTLEREAGH + + The arguments of Members opposite + Posit conditions which experience proves + But figments of a dream;--that honesty, + Truth, and good faith in this same Bonaparte + May be assumed and can be acted on: + This of one who is loud to violate + Bonds the most sacred, treaties the most grave!... + + It follows not that since this realm was won + To treat with Bonaparte at Chatillon, + It can treat now. And as for assassination, + The sentiments outspoken here to-night + Are much more like to urge to desperate deeds + Against the persons of our good Allies, + Than are, against Napoleon, statements signed + By the Vienna plenipotentiaries! + + We are, in fine, too fully warranted + On moral grounds to strike at Bonaparte, + If we at any crisis reckon it + Expedient so to do. The Government + Will act throughout in concert with the Allies, + And Ministers are well within their rights + To claim that their responsibility + Be not disturbed by hackneyed forms of speech [“Oh, oh”] + Upon war's horrors, and the bliss of peace,-- + Which none denies! [Cheers.] + + + PONSONBY + + I ask the noble lord, + If that his meaning and pronouncement be + Immediate war? + + + CASTLEREAGH + + I have not phrased it so. + + + OPPOSITION CRIES + + The question is unanswered! + + [There are excited calls, and the House divides. The result is + announced as thirty-seven for WHITBREAD'S amendment, and against + it two hundred and twenty. The clock strikes twelve as the House + adjourns.] + + + + SCENE VI + + WESSEX. DURNOVER GREEN, CASTERBRIDGE + + [On a patch of green grass on Durnover Hill, in the purlieus of + Casterbridge, a rough gallows has been erected, and an effigy of + Napoleon hung upon it. Under the effigy are faggots of brushwood. + + It is the dusk of a spring evening, and a great crowd has gathered, + comprising male and female inhabitants of the Durnover suburb + and villagers from distances of many miles. Also are present + some of the county yeomanry in white leather breeches and scarlet, + volunteers in scarlet with green facings, and the REVEREND MR. + PALMER, vicar of the parish, leaning against the post of his + garden door, and smoking a clay pipe of preternatural length. + Also PRIVATE CANTLE from Egdon Heath, and SOLOMON LONGWAYS of + Casterbridge. The Durnover band, which includes a clarionet, + {serpent,} oboe, tambourine, cymbals, and drum, is playing “Lord + Wellington's Hornpipe.”] + + + RUSTIC [wiping his face] + + Says I, please God I'll lose a quarter to zee he burned! And I left + Stourcastle at dree o'clock to a minute. And if I'd known that I + should be too late to zee the beginning on't, I'd have lost a half + to be a bit sooner. + + + YEOMAN + + Oh, you be soon enough good-now. He's just going to be lighted. + + + RUSTIC + + But shall I zee en die? I wanted to zee if he'd die hard, + + + YEOMAN + + Why, you don't suppose that Boney himself is to be burned here? + + + RUSTIC + + What--not Boney that's to be burned? + + + A WOMAN + + Why, bless the poor man, no! This is only a mommet they've made of + him, that's got neither chine nor chitlings. His innerds be only a + lock of straw from Bridle's barton. + + + LONGWAYS + + He's made, neighbour, of a' old cast jacket and breeches from our + barracks here. Likeways Grammer Pawle gave us Cap'n Meggs's old + Zunday shirt that she'd saved for tinder-box linnit; and Keeper + Tricksey of Mellstock emptied his powder-horn into a barm-bladder, + to make his heart wi'. + + + RUSTIC [vehemently] + + Then there's no honesty left in Wessex folk nowadays at all! “Boney's + going to be burned on Durnover Green to-night,”-- that was what I + thought, to be sure I did, that he'd been catched sailing from his + islant and landed at Budmouth and brought to Casterbridge Jail, the + natural retreat of malefactors!--False deceivers--making me lose a + quarter who can ill afford it; and all for nothing! + + + LONGWAYS + + 'Tisn't a mo'sel o' good for thee to cry out against Wessex folk, when + 'twas all thy own stunpoll ignorance. + + [The VICAR OF DURNOVER removes his pipe and spits perpendicularly.] + + + VICAR + + My dear misguided man, you don't imagine that we should be so inhuman + in this Christian country as to burn a fellow creature alive? + + + RUSTIC + + Faith, I won't say I didn't! Durnover folk have never had the + highest of Christian character, come to that. And I didn't know + but that even a pa'son might backslide to such things in these gory + times--I won't say on a Zunday, but on a week-night like this--when + we think what a blasphemious rascal he is, and that there's not a + more charnel-minded villain towards womenfolk in the whole world. + + [The effigy has by this time been kindled, and they watch it burn, + the flames making the faces of the crowd brass-bright, and lighting + the grey tower of Durnover Church hard by.] + + + WOMAN [singing] + + Bayonets and firelocks! + I wouldn't my mammy should know't + But I've been kissed in a sentry-box, + Wrapped up in a soldier's coat! + + + PRIVATE CANTLE + + Talk of backsliding to burn Boney, I can backslide to anything + when my blood is up, or rise to anything, thank God for't! Why, + I shouldn't mind fighting Boney single-handed, if so be I had + the choice o' weapons, and fresh Rainbarrow flints in my flint-box, + and could get at him downhill. Yes, I'm a dangerous hand with a + pistol now and then!... Hark, what's that? [A horn is heard + eastward on the London Road.] Ah, here comes the mail. Now we may + learn something. Nothing boldens my nerves like news of slaughter! + + [Enter mail-coach and steaming horses. It halts for a minute while + the wheel is skidded and the horses stale.] + + + SEVERAL + + What was the latest news from abroad, guard, when you left + Piccadilly White-Horse-Cellar! + + + GUARD + + You have heard, I suppose, that he's given up to public vengeance, + by Gover'ment orders? Anybody may take his life in any way, fair + or foul, and no questions asked. But Marshal Ney, who was sent to + fight him, flung his arms round his neck and joined him with all + his men. Next, the telegraph from Plymouth sends news landed there + by _The Sparrow_, that he has reached Paris, and King Louis has + fled. But the air got hazy before the telegraph had finished, and + the name of the place he had fled to couldn't be made out. + + [The VICAR OF DURNOVER blows a cloud of smoke, and again spits + perpendicularly.] + + + VICAR + + Well, I'm d--- Dear me--dear me! The Lord's will be done. + + + GUARD + + And there are to be four armies sent against him--English, Proosian, + Austrian, and Roosian: the first two under Wellington and Blücher. + And just as we left London a show was opened of Boney on horseback + as large as life, hung up with his head downwards. Admission one + shilling; children half-price. A truly patriot spectacle!--Not that + yours here is bad for a simple country-place. + + [The coach drives on down the hill, and the crowd reflectively + watches the burning.] + + + WOMAN [singing] + + I + + My Love's gone a-fighting + Where war-trumpets call, + The wrongs o' men righting + Wi' carbine and ball, + And sabre for smiting, + And charger, and all + + II + + Of whom does he think there + Where war-trumpets call? + To whom does he drink there, + Wi' carbine and ball + On battle's red brink there, + And charger, and all? + + III + + Her, whose voice he hears humming + Where war-trumpets call, + “I wait, Love, thy coming + Wi' carbine and ball, + And bandsmen a-drumming + Thee, charger and all!” + + [The flames reach the powder in the effigy, which is blown to + rags. The band marches off playing “When War's Alarms,” the + crowd disperses, the vicar stands musing and smoking at his + garden door till the fire goes out and darkness curtains the + scene.] + + + + +ACT SIXTH + + + SCENE I + + THE BELGIAN FRONTIER + + [The village of Beaumont stands in the centre foreground of a + birds'-eye prospect across the Belgian frontier from the French + side, being close to the Sambre further back in the scene, which + pursues a crinkled course between high banks from Maubeuge on the + left to Charleroi on the right. + + In the shadows that muffle all objects, innumerable bodies of + infantry and cavalry are discerned bivouacking in and around the + village. This mass of men forms the central column of NAPOLEONS'S + army. + + The right column is seen at a distance on that hand, also near + the frontier, on the road leading towards Charleroi; and the + left column by Solre-sur-Sambre, where the frontier and the river + nearly coincide + + The obscurity thins and the June dawn appears.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + The bivouacs of the central column become broken up, and a movement + ensues rightwards on Charleroi. The twelve regiments of cavalry + which are in advance move off first; in half an hour more bodies + move, and more in the next half-hour, till by eight o'clock the + whole central army is gliding on. It defiles in strands by narrow + tracks through the forest. Riding impatiently on the outskirts of + the columns is MARSHAL NEY, who has as yet received no command. + + As the day develops, sight and sounds to the left and right reveal + that the two outside columns have also started, and are creeping + towards the frontier abreast with the centre. That the whole forms + one great movement, co-ordinated by one mind, now becomes apparent. + Preceded by scouts the three columns converge. + + The advance through dense woods by narrow paths takes time. The + head of the middles and main column forces back some outposts, and + reaches Charleroi, driving out the Prussian general ZIETEN. It + seizes the bridge over the Sambre and blows up the gates of the + town. + + The point of observation now descends close to the scene. + + In the midst comes the EMPEROR with the Sappers of the Guard, + the Marines, and the Young Guard. The clatter brings the scared + inhabitants to their doors and windows. Cheers arise from some + of them as NAPOLEON passes up the steep street. Just beyond the + town, in front of the Bellevue Inn, he dismounts. A chair is + brought out, in which he sits and surveys the whole valley of the + Sambre. The troops march past cheering him, and drums roll and + bugles blow. Soon the EMPEROR is found to be asleep. + + When the rattle of their passing ceases the silence wakes him. His + listless eye falls upon a half-defaced poster on a wall opposite-- + the Declaration of the Allies. + + + NAPOLEON [reading] + + “... Bonaparte destroys the only legal title on which his existence + depended.... He has deprived himself of the protection of the law, + and has manifested to the Universe that there can be neither peace + nor truce with him. The Powers consequently declare that Napoleon + Bonaparte has placed himself without the pale of civil and social + relations, and that as an enemy and disturber of the tranquillity + of the world he has rendered himself liable to public vengeance.” + + + His flesh quivers, and he turns with a start, as if fancying that + some one may be about to stab him in the back. Then he rises, + mounts, and rides on. + + Meanwhile the right column crosses the Sambre without difficulty + at Chatelet, a little lower down; the left column at Marchienne a + little higher up; and the three limbs combine into one vast army. + + As the curtain of the mist is falling, the point of vision soars + again, and there is afforded a brief glimpse of what is doing far + away on the other side. From all parts of Europe long and sinister + black files are crawling hitherward in serpentine lines, like + slowworms through grass. They are the advancing armies of the + Allies. The Dumb Show ends. + + + + SCENE II + + A BALLROOM IN BRUSSELS[22] + + [It is a June midnight at the DUKE AND DUCHESS OF RICHMOND'S. A + band of stringed instruments shows in the background. The room + is crowded with a brilliant assemblage of more than two hundred + of the distinguished people sojourning in the city on account of + the war and other reasons, and of local personages of State and + fashion. The ball has opened with “The White Cockade.” + + Among those discovered present either dancing or looking on are + the DUKE and DUCHESS as host and hostess, their son and eldest + daughter, the Duchess's brother, the DUKE OF WELLINGTON, the + PRINCE OF ORANGE, the DUKE OF BRUNSWICK, BARON VAN CAPELLEN the + Belgian Secretary of State, the DUKE OF ARENBERG, the MAYOR OF + BRUSSELS, the DUKE AND DUCHESS OF BEAUFORT, GENERAL ALAVA, GENERAL + OUDENARDE, LORD HILL, LORD AND LADY CONYNGHAM, SIR HENRY AND LADY + SUSAN CLINTON, SIR H. AND LADY HAMILTON DALRYMPLE, SIR WILLIAM AND + LADY DE LANCEY, LORD UXBRIDGE, SIR JOHN BYNG, LORD PORTARLINGTON, + LORD EDWARD SOMERSET, LORD HAY, COLONEL ABERCROMBY, SIR HUSSEY + VIVIAN, SIR A. GORDON, SIR W. PONSONBY, SIR DENIS PACK, SIR JAMES + KEMPT, SIR THOMAS PICTON, GENERAL MAITLAND, COLONEL CAMERON, many + other officers, English, Hanoverian, Dutch and Belgian ladies + English and foreign, and Scotch reel-dancers from Highland + regiments. + + The “Hungarian Waltz” having also been danced, the hostess calls + up the Highland soldiers to show the foreign guests what a Scotch + reel is like. The men put their hands on their hips and tread it + out briskly. While they stand aside and rest “The Hanoverian + Dance” is called. + + Enter LIEUTENANT WEBSTER, A.D.C. to the PRINCE OF ORANGE. The + Prince goes apart with him and receives a dispatch. After reading + it he speaks to WELLINGTON, and the two, accompanied by the DUKE + OF RICHMOND, retire into an alcove with serious faces. WEBSTER, + in passing back across the ballroom, exchanges a hasty word with + two of three of the guests known to him, a young officer among + them, and goes out. + + + YOUNG OFFICER [to partner] + + The French have passed the Sambre at Charleroi! + + + PARTNER + + What--does it mean the Bonaparte indeed + Is bearing down upon us? + + + YOUNG OFFICER + + That is so. + The one who spoke to me in passing out + Is Aide to the Prince of Orange, bringing him + Dispatches from Rebecque, his chief of Staff, + Now at the front, not far from Braine le Comte; + He says that Ney, leading the French van-guard, + Has burst on Quatre-Bras. + + + PARTNER + + O horrid time! + Will you, then, have to go and face him there? + + + YOUNG OFFICER + + I shall, of course, sweet. Promptly too, no doubt. + [He gazes about the room.] + See--the news spreads; the dance is paralyzed. + They are all whispering round. [The band stops.] Here comes + one more, + He's the attache from the Prussian force + At our headquarters. + + [Enter GENERAL MUFFLING. He looks prepossessed, and goes straight + to WELLINGTON and RICHMOND in the alcove, who by this time have + been joined by the DUKE OF BRUNSWICK.] + + + SEVERAL GUESTS [at back of room] + + Yes, you see, it's true! + The army will prepare to march at once. + + + PICTON [to another general] + + I am damn glad we are to be off. Pottering about her pinned to + petticoat tails--it does one no good, but blasted harm! + + + ANOTHER GUEST + + The ball cannot go on, can it? Didn't the Duke know the French + were so near? If he did, how could he let us run risks so coolly? + + + LADY HAMILTON DALRYMPLE [to partner] + + A deep concern weights those responsible + Who gather in the alcove. Wellington + Affects a cheerfulness in outward port, + But cannot rout his real anxiety! + + [The DUCHESS OF RICHMOND goes to her husband.] + + + DUCHESS + + Ought I to stop the ball? It hardly seems right to let it continue + if all be true. + + + RICHMOND + + I have put that very question to Wellington, my dear. He says that + we need not hurry off the guests. The men have to assemble some + time before the officers, who can stay on here a little longer + without inconvenience; and he would prefer that they should, not to + create a panic in the city, where the friends and spies of Napoleon + are all agog for some such thing, which they would instantly + communicate to him to take advantage of. + + + DUCHESS + + Is it safe to stay on? Should we not be thinking about getting the + children away? + + + RICHMOND + + There's no hurry at all, even if Bonaparte were really sure to + enter. But he's never going to set foot in Brussels--don't you + imagine it for a moment. + + + DUCHESS [anxiously] + + I hope not. But I wish we had never brought them here! + + + RICHMOND + + It is too late, my dear, to wish that now. Don't be flurried; make + the people go on dancing. + + [The DUCHESS returns to her guests. The DUKE rejoins WELLINGTON, + BRUNSWICK, MUFFLING, and the PRINCE OF ORANGE in the alcove.] + + + WELLINGTON + + We need not be astride till five o'clock + If all the men are marshalled well ahead. + The Brussels citizens must not suppose + They stand in serious peril... He, I think, + Directs his main attack mistakenly; + It should gave been through Mons, not Charleroi. + + + MUFFLING + + The Austrian armies, and the Russian too, + Will show nowhere in this. The thing that's done, + Be it a historied feat or nine days' fizz, + Will be done long before they join us here. + + + WELLINGTON + + Yes, faith; and 'tis pity. But, by God, + Blücher, I think, and I can make a shift + To do the business without troubling 'em! + Though I've an infamous army, that's the truth,-- + Weak, and but ill-equipped,--and what's as bad, + A damned unpractised staff! + + + MUFFLING + + We'll hope for luck. + Blücher concentrates certainly by now + Near Ligny, as he says in his dispatch. + Your Grace, I glean, will mass at Quatre-Bras? + + + WELLINGTON + + Ay, now we are sure this move on Charleroi + Is no mere feint. Though I had meant Nivelles. + Have ye a good map, Richmond, near at hand? + + + RICHMOND + + In the next room there's one. [Exit RICHMOND.] + + [WELLINGTON calls up various general officers and aides from + other parts of the room. PICTON, UXBRIDGE, HILL, CLINTON, VIVIAN, + MAITLAND, PONSONBY, SOMERSET, and others join him in succession, + receive orders, and go out severally.] + + + PRINCE OF ORANGE + + As my divisions seem to lie around + The probable point of impact, it behoves me + To start at once, Duke, for Genappe, I deem? + Being in Brussels, all for this damned ball, + The dispositions out there have, so far, + Been made by young Saxe Weimar and Perponcher, + On their own judgment quite. I go, your Grace? + + + WELLINGTON + + Yes, certainly. 'Tis now desirable. + Farewell! Good luck, until we meet again, + The battle won! + + [Exit PRINCE OF ORANGE, and shortly after, MUFFLING. RICHMOND + returns with a map, which he spreads out on the table. WELLINGTON + scans it closely.] + + Napoleon has befooled me, + By God he has,--gained four-and-twenty hours' + Good march upon me! + + + RICHMOND + + What do you mean to do? + + + WELLINGTON + + I have bidden the army concentrate in strength + At Quatre-Bras. But we shan't stop him there; + So I must fight him HERE. [He marks Waterloo with his thumbnail.] + Well, now I have sped, + All necessary orders I may sup, + And then must say good-bye. [To Brunswick.] This very day + There will be fighting, Duke. You are fit to start? + + + BRUNSWICK [coming forward] + + I leave almost this moment.--Yes, your Grace-- + And I sheath not my sword till I have avenged + My father's death. I have sworn it! + + + WELLINGTON + + My good friend, + Something too solemn knells beneath your words. + Take cheerful views of the affair in hand, + And fall to't with _sang froid_! + + + BRUNSWICK + + But I have sworn! + Adieu. The rendezvous is Quatre-Bras? + + + WELLINGTON + + Just so. The order is unchanged. Adieu; + But only till a later hour to-day; + I see it is one o'clock. + + [WELLINGTON and RICHMOND go out of the alcove and join the + hostess, BRUNSWICK'S black figure being left there alone. He + bends over the map for a few seconds.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + O Brunswick, Duke of Deathwounds! Even as he + For whom thou wear'st that filial weedery + Was waylaid by my tipstaff nine years since, + So thou this day shalt feel his fendless tap, + And join thy sire! + + + BRUNSWICK [starting up] + + I am stirred by inner words, + As 'twere my father's angel calling me,-- + That prelude to our death my lineage know! + + [He stands in a reverie for a moment; then, bidding adieu to the + DUCHESS OF RICHMOND and her daughter, goes slowly out of the + ballroom by a side-door.] + + + DUCHESS + + The Duke of Brunswick bore him gravely here. + His sable shape has stuck me all the eve + As one of those romantic presences + We hear of--seldom see. + + + WELLINGTON [phlegmatically] + + Romantic,--well, + It may be so. Times often, ever since + The Late Duke's death, his mood has tinged him thus. + He is of those brave men who danger see, + And seeing front it,--not of those, less brave + But counted more, who face it sightlessly. + + + YOUNG OFFICER [to partner] + + The Generals slip away! I, Love, must take + The cobbled highway soon. Some hours ago + The French seized Charleroi; so they loom nigh. + + + PARTNER [uneasily] + + Which tells me that the hour you draw your sword + Looms nigh us likewise! + + + YOUNG OFFICER + + Some are saying here + We fight this very day. Rumours all-shaped + Fly round like cockchafers! + + [Suddenly there echoes in the ballroom a long-drawn metallic purl + of sound, making all the company start.] + + Transcriber's Note: There follows in musical notation five measures + for side-drum. + + Ah--there it is, + Just as I thought! They are beating the Generale. + + [The loud roll of side-drums is taken up by other drums further + and further away, till the hollow noise spreads all over the city. + Dismay is written on the faces of the women. The Highland non- + commissioned officers and privates march smartly down the ballroom + and disappear.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Discerned you stepping out in front of them + That figure--of a pale drum-major kind, + Or fugleman--who wore a cold grimace? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + He was my old fiend Death, in rarest trim, + The occasion favouring his husbandry! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Are those who marched behind him, then, to fall? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Ay, all well-nigh, ere Time have houred three-score. + + + PARTNER + + Surely this cruel call to instant war + Spares space for one dance more, that memory + May store when you are gone, while I--sad me!-- + Wait, wait and weep.... Yes--one there is to be! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Methinks flirtation grows too tender here! + + [Country Dance, “The Prime of Life,” a favourite figure at this + period. The sense of looming tragedy carries emotion to its + climax. All the younger officers stand up with their partners, + forming several figures of fifteen or twenty couples each. The + air is ecstasizing, and both sexes abandon themselves to the + movement. + + Nearly half an hour passes before the figure is danced down. + Smothered kisses follow the conclusion. The silence is broken + from without by more long hollow rolling notes, so near that + they thrill the window-panes.] + + + SEVERAL + + 'Tis the Assemble. Now, then, we must go! + + [The officers bid farewell to their partners and begin leaving + in twos and threes. When they are gone the women mope and murmur + to each other by the wall, and listen to the tramp of men and + slamming of doors in the streets without.] + + + LADY HAMILTON DALRYMPLE + + The Duke has borne him gaily here to-night. + The youngest spirits scarcely capped his own. + + + DALRYMPLE + + Maybe that, finding himself blade to blade + With Bonaparte at last, his blood gets quick. + French lancers of the Guard were seen at Frasnes + Last midnight; so the clash is not far off. + + [They leave.] + + + DE LANCEY [to his wife] + + I take you to our door, and say good-bye, + And go thence to the Duke's and wait for him. + In a few hours we shall be all in motion + Towards the scene of--what we cannot tell! + You, dear, will haste to Antwerp till it's past, + As we have arranged. + + [They leave.] + + + WELLINGTON [to Richmond] + + Now I must also go, + And snatch a little snooze ere harnessing. + The Prince and Brunswick have been gone some while. + + [RICHMOND walks to the door with him. Exit WELLINGTON, RICHMOND + returns.] + + + DUCHESS [to Richmond] + + Some of these left renew the dance, you see. + I cannot stop them; but with memory hot + Of those late gone, of where they are gone, and why, + It smacks of heartlessness! + + + RICHMOND + + Let be; let be; + Youth comes not twice to fleet mortality! + + [The dancing, however, is fitful and spiritless, few but civilian + partners being left for the ladies. Many of the latter prefer to + sit in reverie while waiting for their carriages.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + When those stout men-at-arms drew forward there, + I saw a like grimacing shadow march + And pirouette before no few of them. + Some of themselves beheld it; some did not. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Which were so ushered? + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Brunswick, who saw and knew; + One also moved before Sir Thomas Picton, + Who coolly conned and drily spoke to it; + Another danced in front of Ponsonby, + Who failed of heeding his.--De Lancey, Hay, + Gordon, and Cameron, and many more + Were footmanned by like phantoms from the ball. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Multiplied shimmerings of my Protean friend, + Who means to couch them shortly. Thou wilt eye + Many fantastic moulds of him ere long, + Such as, bethink thee, oft hast eyed before. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + I have--too often! + + [The attenuated dance dies out, the remaining guests depart, the + musicians leave the gallery and depart also. RICHMOND goes to + a window and pulls back one of the curtains. Dawn is barely + visible in the sky, and the lamps indistinctly reveal that long + lines of British infantry have assembled in the street. In the + irksomeness of waiting for their officers with marching-orders, + they have lain down on the pavements, where many are soundly + sleeping, their heads on their knapsacks and their arms by their + side.] + + + DUCHESS + + Poor men. Sleep waylays them. How tired they seem! + + + RICHMOND + + They'll be more tired before the day is done. + A march of eighteen miles beneath the heat, + And then to fight a battle ere they rest, + Is what foreshades.--Well, it is more than bed-time; + But little sleep for us or any one + To-night in Brussels! + + [He draws the window-curtain and goes out with the DUCHESS. + Servants enter and extinguish candles. The scene closes in + darkness.] + + + + SCENE III + + CHARLEROI. NAPOLEON'S QUARTERS + + [The same midnight. NAPOLEON is lying on a bed in his clothes. + In consultation with SOULT, his Chief of Staff, who is sitting + near, he dictates to his Secretary orders for the morrow. They + are addressed to KELLERMANN, DROUOT, LOBAU, GERARD, and other + of his marshals. SOULT goes out to dispatch them. + + The Secretary resumes the reading of reports. Presently MARSHAL + NEY is announced He is heard stumbling up the stairs, and enters.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Ah, Ney; why come you back? Have you secured + The all-important Crossways?--safely sconced + Yourself at Quatre-Bras? + + + NEY + + Not, sire, as yet. + For, marching forwards, I heard gunnery boom, + And, fearing that the Prussians had engaged you, + I stood at pause. Just then--- + + + NAPOLEON + + My charge was this: + Make it impossible at any cost + That Wellington and Blücher should unite. + As it's from Brussels that the English come, + And from Namur the Prussians, Quatre-Bras + Lends it alone for their forgathering: + So, why exists it not in your hands/ + + + NEY + + My reason, sire, was rolling from my tongue.-- + Hard on the boom of guns, dim files of foot + Which read to me like massing Englishry-- + The vanguard of all Wellington's array-- + I half-discerned. So, in pure wariness, + I left the Bachelu columns there at Frasnes, + And hastened back to tell you. + + + NAPOLEON + + Ney; O Ney! + I fear you are not the man that once you were; + Of your so daring, such a faint-heart now! + I have ground to know the foot that flustered you + Were but a few stray groups of Netherlanders; + For my good spies in Brussels send me cue + That up to now the English have not stirred, + But cloy themselves with nightly revel there. + + + NEY [bitterly] + + Give me another opportunity + Before you speak like that! + + + NAPOLEON + + You soon will have one!... + But now--no more of this. I have other glooms + Upon my soul--the much-disquieting news + That Bourmont has deserted to our foes + With his whole staff. + + + NEY + + We can afford to let him. + + + NAPOLEON + + It is what such betokens, not their worth, + That whets it!... Love, respect for me, have waned; + But I will right that. We've good chances still. + You must return foot-hot to Quatre-Bras; + There Kellermann's cuirassiers will promptly join you + To bear the English backward Brussels way. + I go on towards Fleurus and Ligny now.-- + If Blücher's force retreat, and Wellington's + Lie somnolent in Brussels one day more, + I gain that city sans a single shot!... + + Now, friend, downstairs you'll find some supper ready, + Which you must tuck in sharply, and then off. + The past day has not ill-advantaged us; + We have stolen upon the two chiefs unawares, + And in such sites that they must fight apart. + Now for a two hours' rest.--Comrade, adieu + Until to-morrow! + + NEY + + Till to-morrow, sire! + + [Exit NEY. NAPOLEON falls asleep, and the Secretary waits till + dictation shall be resumed. BUSSY, the orderly officer, comes + to the door. + + + BUSSY + + Letters--arrived from Paris. [Hands letters.] + + + SECRETARY + + He shall have them + The moment he awakes. These eighteen hours + He's been astride; and is not what he was.-- + Much news from Paris? + + + BUSSY + + I can only say + What's not the news. The courier has just told me + He'd nothing from the Empress at Vienna + To bring his Majesty. She writes no more. + + + SECRETARY + + And never will again! In my regard + That bird's forsook the nest for good and all. + + + BUSSY + + All that they hear in Paris from her court + Is through our spies there. One of them reports + This rumour of her: that the Archduke John, + In taking leave to join our enemies here, + Said, “Oh, my poor Louise; I am grieved for you + And what I hope is, that he'll be run through, + Or shot, or break his neck, for your own good + No less than ours. + + + NAPOLEON [waking] + + By “he” denoting me? + + + BUSSY [starting] + + Just so, your Majesty. + + + NAPOLEON [peremptorily] + + What said the Empress? + + + BUSSY + + She gave no answer, sire, that rumour bears. + + + NAPOLEON + + Count Neipperg, whom they have made her chamberlain, + Interred his wife last spring--is it not so? + + + BUSSY + + He did, your Majesty. + + + NAPOLEON + + H'm....You may go. + + [Exit BUSSY. The Secretary reads letters aloud in succession. + He comes to the last; begins it; reaches a phrase, and stops + abruptly.] + + Mind not! Read on. No doubt the usual threat, + Or prophecy, from some mad scribe? Who signs it? + + + SECRETARY + + The subscript is “The Duke of Enghien!” + + + NAPOLEON [starting up] + + Bah, man! A treacherous trick! A hoax--no more! + Is that the last? + + + SECRETARY + + The last, your Majesty. + + + NAPOLEON + + Then now I'll sleep. In two hours have me called. + + + SECRETARY + + I'll give the order, sire. + + [The Secretary goes. The candles are removed, except one, and + NAPOLEON endeavours to compose himself.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + A little moral panorama would do him no harm, after that reminder of + the Duke of Enghien. Shall it be, young Compassion? + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + What good--if that old Years tells us be true? + But I say naught. To ordain is not for me! + + [Thereupon a vision passes before NAPOLEON as he lies, comprising + hundreds of thousands of skeletons and corpses in various stages + of decay. They rise from his various battlefields, the flesh + dropping from them, and gaze reproachfully at him. His intimate + officers who have been slain he recognizes among the crowd. In + front is the DUKE OF ENGHIEN as showman.] + + + NAPOLEON [in his sleep] + + Why, why should this reproach be dealt me now? + Why hold me my own master, if I be + Ruled by the pitiless Planet of Destiny? + + [He jumps up in a sweat and puts out the last candle; and the + scene is curtained by darkness.] + + + + SCENE IV + + A CHAMBER OVERLOOKING A MAIN STREET IN BRUSSELS + + [A June sunrise; the beams struggling through the window-curtains. + A canopied bed in a recess on the left. The quick notes of + “Brighton Camp, or the “Girl I've left behind me,” strike sharply + into the room from fifes and drums without. A young lady in a + dressing-gown, who has evidently been awaiting the sound, springs + from the bed like a hare from its form, undraws window-curtains + and opens the window. + + Columns of British soldiery are marching past from the Parc + southward out of the city by the Namur Gate. The windows of + other houses in the street rattle open, and become full of + gazers. + + A tap at the door. An older lady enters, and comes up to the + first.] + + + YOUNGER LADY [turning] + + O mamma--I didn't hear you! + + + ELDER LADY + + I was sound asleep till the thumping of the drums set me fantastically + dreaming, and when I awoke I found they were real. Did they wake you + too, my dear? + + + Younger Lady [reluctantly] + + I didn't require waking. I hadn't slept since we came home. + + + ELDER LADY + + That was from the excitement of the ball. There are dark rings round + your eye. [The fifes and drums are now opposite, and thrill the air + in the room.] Ah--that “Girl I've left behind me!”--which so many + thousands of women have throbbed an accompaniment to, and will again + to-day if ever they did! + + + YOUNGER LADY [her voice faltering] + + It is rather cruel to say that just now, mamma. There, I can't look + at them after it! [She turns and wipes her eyes.] + + + ELDER LADY + + I wasn't thinking of ourselves--certainly not of you.--How they + press on--with those great knapsacks and firelocks and, I am told, + fifty-six rounds of ball-cartridge, and four days' provisions in + those haversacks. How can they carry it all near twenty miles and + fight with it on their shoulders!... Don't cry, dear. I thought + you would get sentimental last night over somebody. I ought to + have brought you home sooner. How many dances did you have? It + was impossible for me to look after you in the excitement of the + war-tidings. + + + YOUNGER LADY + + Only three--four. + + + ELDER LADY + + Which were they? + + + YOUNGER LADY + + “Enrico,” the “Copenhagen Waltz” and the “Hanoverian,” and the + “Prime of Life.” + + + ELDER LADY + + It was very foolish to fall in love on the strength of four dances. + + + YOUNGER LADY [evasively] + + Fall in love? Who said I had fallen in love? What a funny idea! + + + ELDER LADY + + Is it?... Now here come the Highland Brigade with their pipes + and their “Hieland Laddie.” How the sweethearts cling to the men's + arms. [Reaching forward.] There are more regiments following. + But look, that gentleman opposite knows us. I cannot remember his + name. [She bows and calls across.] Sir, which are these? + + + GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE + + The Ninety-second. Next come the Forty-ninth, and next the Forty- + second--Sir Denis Pack's brigade. + + + ELDER LADY + + Thank you.--I think it is that gentleman we talked to at the + Duchess's, but I am not sure. [A pause: another band.] + + + GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE + + That's the Twenty-eighth. [They pass, with their band and colours.] + Now the Thirty-second are coming up--part of Kempt's brigade. Endless, + are they not? + + + ELDER LADY + + Yes, Sir. Has the Duke passed out yet? + + + GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE + + Not yet. Some cavalry will go by first, I think. The foot coming + up now are the Seventy-ninth. [They pass.]... These next are + the Ninety-fifth. [They pass.]... These are the First Foot- + guards now. [They pass, playing “British Grenadiers.”]... The + Fusileer-guards now. [They pass.] Now the Coldstreamers. [They + pass. He looks up towards the Parc.] Several Hanoverian regiments + under Colonel Best are coming next. [They pass, with their bands + and colours. An interval.] + + + ELDER LADY [to daughter] + + Here are the hussars. How much more they carry to battle than at + reviews. The hay in those great nets must encumber them. [She + turns and sees that her daughter has become pale.] Ah, now I know! + HE has just gone by. You exchanged signals with him, you wicked + girl! How do you know what his character is, or if he'll ever come + back? + + [The younger lady goes and flings herself on her face upon the + bed, sobbing silently. Her mother glances at her, but leaves + her alone. An interval. The prancing of a group of horsemen + is heard on the cobble-stones without.] + + + GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE [calling] + + Here comes the Duke! + + + ELDER LADY [to younger] + + You have left the window at the most important time! The Duke of + Wellington and his staff-officers are passing out. + + + YOUNGER LADY + + I don't want to see him. I don't want to see anything any more! + + [Riding down the street comes WELLINGTON in a grey frock-coat and + small cocked hat, frigid and undemonstrative; accompanied by four + or five Generals of his suite, the Deputy Quartermaster-general + De LANCEY, LORD FITZROY SOMERSET, Aide-de-camp, and GENERAL + MUFFLING.] + + + GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE + + He is the Prussian officer attached to our headquarters, through whom + Wellington communicates with Blücher, who, they say, is threatened by + the French at Ligny at this moment. + + [The elder lady turns to her daughter, and going to the bed bends + over her, while the horses' tramp of WELLINGTON and his staff + clatters more faintly in the street, and the music of the last + retreating band dies away towards the Forest of Soignes. + + Finding her daughter is hysterical with grief she quickly draws + the window-curtains to screen the room from the houses opposite. + Scene ends.] + + + + SCENE V + + THE FIELD OF LIGNY + + [The same day later. A prospect of the battlefield of Ligny + southward from the roof of the windmill of Bussy, which stands at + the centre and highest point of the Prussian position, about six + miles south-east of Quatre-Bras. + + The ground slopes downward along the whole front of the scene to + a valley through which wanders the Ligne, a muddy stream bordered + by sallows. On both sides of the stream, in the middle plane of + the picture, stands the village of Ligny, composed of thatched + cottages, gardens, and farm-houses with stone walls; the main + features, such as the church, church-yard, and village-green + being on the further side of the Ligne. + + On that side the land reascends in green wheatfields to an + elevation somewhat greater than that of the foreground, reaching + away to Fleurus in the right-hand distance. + + In front, on the slopes between the spectator and the village, + is the First Corps of the Prussian army commanded by Zieten, its + First Brigade under STEINMETZ occupying the most salient point. + The Corps under THIELMANN is ranged to the left, and that of + PIRCH to the rear, in reserve to ZIETEN. In the centre-front, + just under the mill, BLÜCHER on a fine grey charger is intently + watching, with his staff. + + Something dark is seen to be advancing over the horizon by + Fleurus, about three miles off. It is the van of NAPOLEON'S + army, approaching to give battle. + + At this moment hoofs are heard clattering along a road that + passes behind the mill; and there come round to the front the + DUKE OF WELLINGTON, his staff-officers, and a small escort of + cavalry. + + WELLINGTON and BLÜCHER greet each other at the foot of the + windmill. They disappear inside, and can be heard ascending + the ladders. + + Enter on the roof WELLINGTON and BLÜCHER, followed by FITZROY + SOMERSET, GNEISENAU, MUFFLING, and others. Before renewing + their conversation they peer through their glasses at the dark + movements on the horizon. WELLINGTON'S manner is deliberate, + judicial, almost indifferent; BLÜCHER'S eager and impetuous. + + + WELLINGTON + + They muster not as yet in near such strength + At Quatre-Bras as here. + + + BLÜCHER + + 'Tis from Fleurus + They come debouching. I, perforce, withdrew + My forward posts of cavalry at dawn + In face of their light cannon.... They'll be here + I reckon, soon! + + + WELLINGTON [still with glass] + + I clearly see his staff, + And if my eyes don't lie, the Arch-one too.... + It is the whole Imperial army, Prince, + That we've before us. [A silence.] Well, we'll cope with them! + What would you have me do? + + [BLÜCHER is so absorbed in what he sees that he does not heed.] + + + GNEISENAU + + Duke, this I'd say: + Events suggest to us that you come up + With all your force, behind the village here, + And act as our reserve. + + + MUFFLING + + But Bonaparte, + Pray note, has redistributed his strength + In fashion that you fail to recognize. + I am against your scheme. + + + BLÜCHER [lowering his glass] + + Signs notify + Napoleon's plans as changed! He purports now + To strike our left--between Sombreffe and Brye.... + If so, I have to readjust my ward. + + + WELLINGTON + + One of his two divisions that we scan + Outspreading from Fleurus, seems bent on Ligny, + The other on Saint-Amand. + + + BLÜCHER + + Well, I shall see + In half an hour, your Grace. If what I deem + Be what he means, Von Zieten's corps forthwith + Must stand to their positions: Pirch out here, + Henckel at Ligny, Steinmetz at La Haye. + + + WELLINGTON + + So that, your Excellency, as I opine, + I go and sling my strength on their left wing-- + Manoeuvring to outflank 'em on that side. + + + BLÜCHER + + True, true. Our plan uncovers of itself; + You bear down everything from Quatre-Bras + Along the road to Frasnes. + + + WELLINGTON + + I will, by God. + I'll bear straight on to Gosselies, if needs! + + + GNEISENAU + + Your Excellencies, if I may be a judge, + Such movement will not tend to unity; + It leans too largely on a peradventure + Most speculative in its contingencies! + + [A silence; till the officers of the staff remark to each other + that concentration is best in any circumstances. A general + discussion ensues.] + + + BLÜCHER [concludingly] + + We will expect you, Duke, to our support. + + + WELLINGTON + + I must agree that, in the sum, it's best. + So be it then. If not attacked myself + I'll come to you.--Now I return with speed + To Quatre-Bras. + + + BLÜCHER + + And I descend from here + To give close eye and thought to things below; + No more can well be studied where we stand. + + [Exeunt from roof WELLINGTON, BLÜCHER and the rest. They reappear + below, and WELLINGTON and his suite gallop furiously away in the + direction of Quatre-Bras. An interval.] + + + DUMB SHOW [below] + + Three reports of a cannon give the signal for the French attack. + NAPOLEON'S army advances down the slopes of green corn opposite, + bands and voices joining in songs of victory. The French come + in three grand columns; VANDAMME'S on the left [the spectator's + right] against Saint-Amand, the most forward angle of the Prussian + position. GERARD'S in the centre bear down upon Ligny. GROUCHY'S + on the French right is further back. Far to the rear can be + discerned NAPOLEON, the Imperial Guard, and MILHAUD'S cuirassiers + halted in reserve. + + This formidable advance is preceded by swarms of tirailleurs, who + tread down the high wheat, exposing their own men in the rear. + + Amid cannonading from both sides they draw nearer to the Prussians, + though lanes are cut through them by the latter's guns. They drive + the Prussians out of Ligny; who, however, rally in the houses, + churchyard, and village green. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + I see unnatural an Monster, loosely jointed, + With an Apocalyptic Being's shape, + And limbs and eyes a hundred thousand strong, + And fifty thousand heads; which coils itself + About the buildings there. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Thou dost indeed. + It is the Monster Devastation. Watch. + + + Round the church they fight without quarter, shooting face to face, + stabbing with unfixed bayonets, and braining with the butts of + muskets. The village catches fire, and soon becomes a furnace. + The crash of splitting timbers as doors are broken through, the + curses of the fighters, rise into the air, with shouts of “En + avant!” from the further side of the stream, and “Vorwarts!” from + the nearer. + + The battle extends to the west by Le Hameau and Saint-Amand la Haye; + and Ligny becomes invisible under a shroud of smoke. + + + VOICES [at the base of the mill] + + This sun will go down bloodily for us! + The English, sharply sighed for by Prince Blücher, + Cannot appear. Wellington words across + That hosts have set on him at Quatre-Bras, + And leave him not one bayonet to spare! + + + The truth of this intelligence is apparent. A low dull sound heard + lately from the direction of Quatre-Bras has increased to a roaring + cannonade. The scene abruptly closes. + + + + SCENE VI + + THE FIELD AT QUATRE-BRAS + + [The same day. The view is southward, and the straight gaunt + highway from Brussels [behind the spectator] to Charleroi over + the hills in front, bisects the picture from foreground to + distance. Near at hand, where it is elevated and open, there + crosses it obliquely, at a point called Les Quatre-Bras, another + road which comes from Nivelle, five miles to the gazer's right + rear, and goes to Namur, twenty miles ahead to the left. At a + distance of five or six miles in this latter direction it passes + near the previous scene, Ligny, whence the booming of guns can + be continuously heard. + + Between the cross-roads in the centre of the scene and the far + horizon the ground dips into a hollow, on the other side of which + the same straight road to Charleroi is seen climbing the crest, + and over it till out of sight. From a hill on the right hand of + the mid-distance a large wood, the wood of Bossu, reaches up + nearly to the crossways, which give their name to the buildings + thereat, consisting of a few farm-houses and an inn. + + About three-quarters of a mile off, nearly hidden by the horizon + towards Charleroi, there is also a farmstead, Gemioncourt; another, + Piraumont, stands on an eminence a mile to the left of it, and + somewhat in front of the Namur road.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + As this scene uncovers the battle is beheld to be raging at its + height, and to have reached a keenly tragic phase. WELLINGTON has + returned from Ligny, and the main British and Hanoverian position, + held by the men who marched out of Brussels in the morning, under + officers who danced the previous night at the Duchess's, is along + the Namur road to the left of the perspective, and round the cross- + road itself. That of the French, under Ney, is on the crests further + back, from which they are descending in imposing numbers. Some + advanced columns are assailing the English left, while through the + smoke-hazes of the middle of the field two lines of skirmishers + are seen firing at each other--the southernmost dark blue, the + northernmost dull red. Time lapses till it is past four o'clock. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + The cannonade of the French ordnance-lines + Has now redoubled. Columns new and dense + Of foot, supported by fleet cavalry, + Straightly impinge upon the Brunswick bands + That border the plantation of Bossu. + Above some regiments of the assaulting French + A flag like midnight swims upon the air, + To say no quarter may be looked for there! + + + The Brunswick soldiery, much notched and torn by the French grape- + shot, now lie in heaps. The DUKE OF BRUNSWICK himself, desperate + to keep them steady, lights his pipe, and rides slowly up and down + in front of his lines previous to the charge which follows. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + The French have heaved them on the Brunswickers, + And borne them back. Now comes the Duke's told time. + He gallops at the head of his hussars-- + Those men of solemn and appalling guise, + Full-clothed in black, with nodding hearsy plumes, + A shining silver skull and cross of bones + Set upon each, to byspeak his slain sire.... + Concordantly, the expected bullet starts + And finds the living son. + + + BRUNSWICK reels to the ground. His troops, disheartened, lose their + courage and give way. + + The French front columns, and the cavalry supporting them, shout + as they advance. The Allies are forced back upon the English main + position. WELLINGTON is in personal peril for a time, but he escapes + it by a leap of his horse. + + A curtain of smoke drops. An interval. The curtain reascends. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Behold again the Dynasts' gory gear! + Since we regarded, what has progressed here? + + + RECORDING ANGEL [in recitative] + + Musters of English foot and their allies + Came palely panting by the Brussels way, + And, swiftly stationed, checked their counter-braves. + Ney, vexed by lack of like auxiliaries, + Bade then the columned cuirassiers to charge + In all their edged array of weaponcraft. + Yea; thrust replied to thrust, and fire to fire; + The English broke, till Picton prompt to prop them + Sprang with fresh foot-folk from the covering rye. + + Next, Pire's cavalry took up the charge.... + And so the action sways. The English left + Is turned at Piraumont; whilst on their right + Perils infest the greenwood of Bossu; + Wellington gazes round with dubious view; + England's long fame in fight seems sepulchered, + And ominous roars swell loudlier Ligny-ward. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + New rage has wrenched the battle since thou'st writ; + Hot-hasting succours of light cannonry + Lately come up, relieve the English stress; + Kellermann's cuirassiers, both man and horse + All plated over with the brass of war, + Are rolling on the highway. More brigades + Of British, soiled and sweltering, now are nigh, + Who plunge within the boscage of Bossu; + Where in the hidden shades and sinuous creeps + Life-struggles can be heard, seen but in peeps. + Therewith the foe's accessions harass Ney, + Racked that no needful d'Erlon darks the way! + + + Inch by inch NEY has to draw off: WELLINGTON promptly advances. At + dusk NEY'S army finds itself back at Frasnes, where he meets D'ERLON + coming up to his assistance, too late. + + The weary English and their allies, who have been on foot ever since + one o'clock the previous morning, prepare to bivouac in front of the + cross-roads. Their fires flash up for a while; and by and by the + dead silence of heavy sleep hangs over them. WELLINGTON goes into + his tent, and the night darkens. + + A Prussian courier from Ligny enters, who is conducted into the tent + to WELLINGTON. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + What tidings can a courier bring that count + Here, where such mighty things are native born? + + + RECORDING ANGEL [in recitative] + + The fury of the tumult there begun + Scourged quivering Ligny through the afternoon: + Napoleon's great intent grew substantive, + And on the Prussian pith and pulse he bent + His foretimed blow. Blücher, to butt the shock, + Called up his last reserves, and heading on, + With blade high brandished by his aged arm, + Spurred forward his white steed. But they, outspent, + Failed far to follow. Darkness coped the sky, + And storm, and rain with thunder. Yet once more + He cheered them on to charge. His horse, the while, + Pierced by a bullet, fell on him it bore. + He, trampled, bruised, faint, and in disarray + Dragged to another mount, was led away. + His ragged lines withdraw from sight and sound, + And their assailants camp upon the ground. + + + The scene shuts with midnight. + + + + SCENE VII + + BRUSSELS. THE PLACE ROYALE + + [The same night, dark and sultry. A crowd of citizens throng the + broad Place. They gaze continually down the Rue de Namur, along + which arrive minute by minute carts and waggons laden with wounded + men. Other wounded limp into the city on foot. At much greater + speed enter fugitive soldiers from the miscellaneous contingents + of WELLINGTON'S army at Quatre-Bras, who gesticulate and explain + to the crowd that all is lost and that the French will soon be in + Brussels. + + Baggage-carts and carriages, with and without horses, stand before + an hotel, surrounded by a medley of English and other foreign + nobility and gentry with their valets and maids. Bulletins from + the battlefield are affixed on the corner of the Place, and people + peer at them by the dim oil lights. + + A rattle of hoofs reaches the ears, entering the town by the same + Namur gate. The riders disclose themselves to be Belgian hussars, + also from the field.] + + + SEVERAL HUSSARS + + The French approach! Wellington is beaten. Bonaparte is at our heels. + + [Consternation reaches a climax. Horses are hastily put-to at the + hotel: people crowd into the carriages and try to drive off. They + get jammed together and hemmed in by the throng. Unable to move + they quarrel and curse despairingly in sundry tongues.] + + + BARON CAPELLEN + + Affix the new bulletin. It is a more assuring one, and may quiet + them a little. + + [A new bulletin is nailed over the old one.] + + + MAYOR + + Good people, calm yourselves. No victory has been won by Bonaparte. + The noise of guns heard all the afternoon became fainter towards the + end, showing beyond doubt that the retreat was away from the city. + + + A CITIZEN + + The French are said to be forty thousand strong at Les Quatre-Bras, + and no forty thousand British marched out against them this morning! + + + ANOTHER CITIZEN + + And it is whispered that the city archives and the treasure-chest + have been sent to Antwerp! + + + MAYOR + + Only as a precaution. No good can be gained by panic. Sixty or + seventy thousand of the Allies, all told, face Napoleon at this + hour. Meanwhile who is to attend to the wounded that are being + brought in faster and faster? Fellow-citizens, do your duty by + these unfortunates, and believe me that when engaged in such an + act of mercy no enemy will hurt you. + + + CITIZENS + + What can we do? + + + MAYOR + + I invite all those who have such, to bring mattresses, sheets, and + coverlets to the Hotel de Ville, also old linen and lint from the + houses of the cures. + + [Many set out on this errand. An interval. Enter a courier, who + speaks to the MAYOR and the BARON CAPELLEN.] + + + BARON CAPELLEN [to Mayor] + + Better inform them immediately, to prevent a panic. + + + MAYOR [to Citizens] + + I grieve to tell you that the Duke of Brunswick, whom you saw ride + out this morning, was killed this afternoon at Les Quatre-Bras. A + musket-ball passed through his bridle-hand and entered his belly. + His body is now arriving. Carry yourselves gravely. + + [A lane is formed in the crowd in the direction of the Rue de + Namur; they wait. Presently an extemporized funeral procession, + with the body of the DUKE on a gun-carriage, and a small escort + of Brunswickers with carbines reversed, comes slowly up the + street, their silver death's-heads shining in the lamplight. + The agitation of the citizens settles into a silent gloom as + the mournful train passes.] + + + MAYOR [to Baron Capellen] + + I noticed the strange look of prepossession on his face at the ball + last night, as if he knew what was going to be. + + + BARON CAPELLEN + + The Duchess mentioned it to me.... He hated the French, if any + man ever did, and so did his father before him! Here comes the + English Colonel Hamilton, straight from the field. He will give + us trustworthy particulars. + + [Enter COLONEL HAMILTON by the Rue de Namur. He converses with + the MAYOR and the BARON on the issue of the struggle.] + + + MAYOR + + Now I will go the Hotel de Ville, and get it ready for those wounded + who can find no room in private houses. + + [Exeunt MAYOR, CAPELLEN, D'URSEL, HAMILTON, etc. severally. Many + citizens descend in the direction of the Hotel de Ville to assist. + Those who remain silently watch the carts bringing in the wounded + till a late hour. The doors of houses in the Place and elsewhere + are kept open, and the rooms within lighted, in expectation of + more arrivals from the field. A courier gallops up, who is accosted + by idlers.] + + + COURIER [hastily] + + The Prussians are defeated at Ligny by Napoleon in person. He will + be here to-morrow. + + [Exit courier.] + + + FIRST IDLER + + The devil! Then I am for welcoming him. No Antwerp for me! + + + OTHER IDLERS [sotto voce] + + Vive l'Empereur! + + [A warm summer fog from the Lower Town covers the Parc and the + Place Royale.] + + + + SCENE VIII + + THE ROAD TO WATERLOO + + [The view is now from Quatre-Bras backward along the road by + which the English arrived. Diminishing in a straight line from + the foreground to the centre of the distance it passes over Mont + Saint-Jean and through Waterloo to Brussels. + + It is now tinged by a moving mass of English and Allied infantry, + in retreat to a new position at Mont Saint-Jean. The sun shines + brilliantly upon the foreground as yet, but towards Waterloo and + the Forest of Soignes on the north horizon it is overcast with + black clouds which are steadily advancing up the sky. + + To mask the retreat the English outposts retain their position + on the battlefield in the face of NEY'S troops, and keep up a + desultory firing: the cavalry for the same reason remain, being + drawn up in lines beside the intersecting Namur road. + + + Enter WELLINGTON, UXBRIDGE [who is in charge of the cavalry], + MUFFLING, VIVIAN, and others. They look through their field- + glasses towards Frasnes, NEY'S position since his retreat + yesternight, and also towards NAPOLEON'S at Ligny.] + + + WELLINGTON + + The noonday sun, striking so strongly there, + Makes mirrors of their arms. That they advance + Their glowing radiance shows. Those gleams by Marbais + Suggest fixed bayonets. + + + UXBRIDGE + + Vivian's glass reveals + That they are cuirassiers. Ney's troops, too, near + At last, methinks, along this other road. + + + WELLINGTON + + One thing is sure: that here the whole French force + Schemes to unite and sharply follow us. + It formulates our fence. The cavalry + Must linger here no longer; but recede + To Mont Saint-Jean, as rearguard of the foot. + From the intelligence that Gordon brings + 'Tis pretty clear old Blücher had to take + A damned good drubbing yesterday at Ligny, + And has been bent hard back! So that, for us, + Bound to the plighted plan, there is no choice + But do like.... No doubt they'll say at home + That we've been well thrashed too. It can't be helped, + They must!... [He looks round at the sky.] A heavy rainfall + threatens us, + To make it all the worse! + + [The speaker and his staff ride off along the Brussels road in + the rear of the infantry, and UXBRIDGE begins the retreat of the + cavalry. CAPTAIN MERCER enters with a light battery.] + + + MERCER [excitedly] + + Look back, my lord; + Is it not Bonaparte himself we see + Upon the road I have come by? + + + UXBRIDGE [looking through glass] + + Yes, by God; + His face as clear-cut as the edge of a cloud + The sun behind shows up! His suite and all! + Fire--fire! And aim you well. + + [The battery makes ready and fires.] + + No! It won't do. + He brings on mounted ordnance of his Guard, + So we're in danger here. Then limber up, + And off as soon as may be. + + [The English artillery and cavalry retreat at full speed, just as + the weather bursts, with flashes of lightning and drops of rain. + They all clatter off along the Brussels road, UXBRIDGE and his + aides galloping beside the column; till no British are left at + Quatre-Bras except the slain. + + The focus of the scene follows the retreating English army, the + highway and its and margins panoramically gliding past the vision + of the spectator. The phantoms chant monotonously while the retreat + goes on.] + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music] + + Day's nether hours advance; storm supervenes + In heaviness unparalleled, that screens + With water-woven gauzes, vapour-bred, + The creeping clumps of half-obliterate red-- + Severely harassed past each round and ridge + By the inimical lance. They gain the bridge + And village of Genappe, in equal fence + With weather and the enemy's violence. + --Cannon upon the foul and flooded road, + Cavalry in the cornfields mire-bestrowed, + With frothy horses floundering to their knees, + Make wayfaring a moil of miseries! + Till Britishry and Bonapartists lose + Their clashing colours for the tawny hues + That twilight sets on all its stealing tinct imbues. + + [The rising ground of Mont Saint-Jean, in front of Waterloo, + is gained by the English vanguard and main masses of foot, and + by degrees they are joined by the cavalry and artillery. The + French are but little later in taking up their position amid + the cornfields around La Belle Alliance. + + Fires begin to shine up from the English bivouacs. Camp kettles + are slung, and the men pile arms and stand round the blaze to dry + themselves. The French opposite lie down like dead men in the + dripping green wheat and rye, without supper and without fire. + + By and by the English army also lies down, the men huddling + together on the ploughed mud in their wet blankets, while some + sleep sitting round the dying fires.] + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + The eyelids of eve fall together at last, + And the forms so foreign to field and tree + Lie down as though native, and slumber fast! + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES + + Sore are the thrills of misgiving we see + In the artless champaign at this harlequinade, + Distracting a vigil where calm should be! + + The green seems opprest, and the Plain afraid + Of a Something to come, whereof these are the proofs,-- + Neither earthquake, nor storm, nor eclipses's shade! + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS + + Yea, the coneys are scared by the thud of hoofs, + And their white scuts flash at their vanishing heels, + And swallows abandon the hamlet-roofs. + + The mole's tunnelled chambers are crushed by wheels, + The lark's eggs scattered, their owners fled; + And the hedgehog's household the sapper unseals. + + The snail draws in at the terrible tread, + But in vain; he is crushed by the felloe-rim + The worm asks what can be overhead, + + And wriggles deep from a scene so grim, + And guesses him safe; for he does not know + What a foul red flood will be soaking him! + + Beaten about by the heel and toe + Are butterflies, sick of the day's long rheum, + To die of a worse than the weather-foe. + + Trodden and bruised to a miry tomb + Are ears that have greened but will never be gold, + And flowers in the bud that will never bloom. + + + CHORUS OF THE PITIES + + So the season's intent, ere its fruit unfold, + Is frustrate, and mangled, and made succumb, + Like a youth of promise struck stark and cold!... + + And what of these who to-night have come? + + + CHORUS OF THE YEARS + + The young sleep sound; but the weather awakes + In the veterans, pains from the past that numb; + + Old stabs of Ind, old Peninsular aches, + Old Friedland chills, haunt their moist mud bed, + Cramps from Austerlitz; till their slumber breaks. + + + CHORUS OF SINISTER SPIRITS + + And each soul shivers as sinks his head + On the loam he's to lease with the other dead + From to-morrow's mist-fall till Time be sped! + + [The fires of the English go out, and silence prevails, save + for the soft hiss of the rain that falls impartially on both + the sleeping armies.] + + + + +ACT SEVENTH + + + SCENE I + + THE FIELD OF WATERLOO + + [An aerial view of the battlefield at the time of sunrise is + disclosed. + + The sky is still overcast, and rain still falls. A green + expanse, almost unbroken, of rye, wheat, and clover, in oblong + and irregular patches undivided by fences, covers the undulating + ground, which sinks into a shallow valley between the French and + English positions. The road from Brussels to Charleroi runs like + a spit through both positions, passing at the back of the English + into the leafy forest of Soignes. + + The latter are turning out from their bivouacs. They move stiffly + from their wet rest, and hurry to and fro like ants in an ant-hill. + The tens of thousands of moving specks are largely of a brick-red + colour, but the foreign contingent is darker. + + Breakfasts are cooked over smoky fires of green wood. Innumerable + groups, many in their shirt-sleeves, clean their rusty firelocks, + drawing or exploding the charges, scrape the mud from themselves, + and pipeclay from their cross-belts the red dye washed off their + jackets by the rain. + + At six o'clock, they parade, spread out, and take up their positions + in the line of battle, the front of which extends in a wavy riband + three miles long, with three projecting bunches at Hougomont, La + Haye Sainte, and La Haye. + + Looking across to the French positions we observe that after + advancing in dark streams from where they have passed the night + they, too, deploy and wheel into their fighting places--figures + with red epaulettes and hairy knapsacks, their arms glittering + like a display of cutlery at a hill-side fair. + + They assume three concentric lines of crescent shape, that converge + on the English midst, with great blocks of the Imperial Guard at + the back of them. The rattle of their drums, their fanfarades, + and their bands playing “Veillons au salut de l'Empire” contrast + with the quiet reigning on the English side. + + A knot of figures, comprising WELLINGTON with a suite of general + and other staff-officers, ride backwards and forwards in front + of the English lines, where each regimental colour floats in the + hands of the junior ensign. The DUKE himself, now a man of forty- + six, is on his bay charger Copenhagen, in light pantaloons, a + small plumeless hat, and a blue cloak, which shows its white + lining when blown back. + + On the French side, too, a detached group creeps along the front + in preliminary survey. BONAPARTE--also forty-six--in a grey + overcoat, is mounted on his white arab Marengo, and accompanied + by SOULT, NEY, JEROME, DROUOT, and other marshals. The figures + of aides move to and fro like shuttle-cocks between the group + and distant points in the field. The sun has begun to gleam.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Discriminate these, and what they are, + Who stand so stalwartly to war. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Report, ye Rumourers of things near and far. + + + SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS [chanting] + + Sweep first the Frenchmen's leftward lines along, + And eye the peaceful panes of Hougomont-- + That seemed to hold prescriptive right of peace + In fee from Time till Time itself should cease!-- + Jarred now by Reille's fierce foot-divisions three, + Flanked on their left by Pire's cavalry.-- + The fourfold corps of d'Erlon, spread at length, + Compose the right, east of the famed chaussee-- + The shelterless Charleroi-and-Brussels way,-- + And Jacquinot's alert light-steeded strength + Still further right, their sharpened swords display. + Thus stands the first line. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Next behind its back + Comes Count Lobau, left of the Brussels track; + Then Domon's horse, the horse of Subervie; + Kellermann's cuirassed troopers twinkle-tipt, + And, backing d'Erlon, Milhaud's horse, equipt + Likewise in burnished steelwork sunshine-dipt: + So ranks the second line refulgently. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + The third and last embattlement reveals + D'Erlon's, Lobau's, and Reille's foot-cannoniers, + And horse-drawn ordnance too, on massy wheels, + To strike with cavalry where space appears. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + The English front, to left, as flanking force, + Has Vandeleur's hussars, and Vivian's horse; + Next them pace Picton's rows along the crest; + The Hanoverian foot-folk; Wincke; Best; + Bylandt's brigade, set forward fencelessly, + Pack's northern clansmen, Kempt's tough infantry, + With gaiter, epaulet, spat, and {philibeg}; + While Halkett, Ompteda, and Kielmansegge + Prolong the musters, near whose forward edge + Baring invests the Farm of Holy Hedge. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Maitland and Byng in Cooke's division range, + And round dun Hougomont's old lichened sides + A dense array of watching Guardsmen hides + Amid the peaceful produce of the grange, + Whose new-kerned apples, hairy gooseberries green, + And mint, and thyme, the ranks intrude between.-- + Last, westward of the road that finds Nivelles, + Duplat draws up, and Adam parallel. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + The second British line--embattled horse-- + Holds the reverse slopes, screened, in ordered course; + Dornberg's, and Arentsschildt's, and Colquhoun-Grant's, + And left of them, behind where Alten plants + His regiments, come the “Household” Cavalry; + And nigh, in Picton's rear, the trumpets call + The “Union” brigade of Ponsonby. + Behind these the reserves. In front of all, + Or interspaced, with slow-matched gunners manned, + Upthroated rows of threatful ordnance stand. + + [The clock of Nivelles convent church strikes eleven in the + distance. Shortly after, coils of starch-blue smoke burst into + being along the French lines, and the English batteries respond + promptly, in an ominous roar that can be heard at Antwerp. + + A column from the French left, six thousand strong, advances on + the plantation in front of the chateau of Hougomont. They are + played upon by the English ordnance; but they enter the wood, + and dislodge some battalions there. The French approach the + buildings, but are stopped by a loop-holed wall with a mass of + English guards behind it. A deadly fire bursts from these through + the loops and over the summit. + + NAPOLEON orders a battery of howitzers to play upon the building. + Flames soon burst from it; but the foot-guards still hold the + courtyard.] + + + + SCENE II + + THE SAME. THE FRENCH POSITION + + [On a hillock near the farm of Rossomme a small table from the + farmhouse has been placed; maps are spread thereon, and a chair + is beside it. NAPOLEON, SOULT, and other marshals are standing + round, their horses waiting at the base of the slope. + + NAPOLEON looks through his glass at Hougomont. His elevated face + makes itself distinct in the morning light as a gloomy resentful + countenance, blue-black where shaven, and stained with snuff, with + powderings of the same on the breast of his uniform. His stumpy + figure, being just now thrown back, accentuates his stoutness.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Let Reille be warned that these his surly sets + On Hougomont chateau, can scarce defray + Their mounting bill of blood. They do not touch + The core of my intent--to pierce and roll + The centre upon the right of those opposed. + Thereon will turn the outcome of the day, + In which our odds are ninety to their ten! + + + SOULT + + Yes--prove there time and promptitude enough + To call back Grouchy here. Of his approach + I see no sign. + + + NAPOLEON [roughly] + + Hours past he was bid come. + --But naught imports it! We are enough without him. + You have been beaten by this Wellington, + And so you think him great. But let me teach you + Wellington is no foe to reckon with. + His army, too, is poor. This clash to-day + Is more serious for our seasoned files + Than breakfasting. + + + SOULT + + Such is my earnest hope. + + + NAPOLEON + + Observe that Wellington still labours on, + Stoutening his right behind Gomont chateau, + But leaves his left and centre as before-- + Weaker, if anything. He plays our game! + + [WELLINGTON can, in fact, be seen detaching from his main line + several companies of Guards to check the aims of the French on + Hougomont.] + + Let me re-word my tactics. Ney leads off + By seizing Mont Saint-Jean. Then d'Erlon stirs, + And heaves up his division from the left. + The second corps will move abreast of him + The sappers nearing to entrench themselves + Within the aforesaid farm. + + [Enter an aide-de-camp.] + + + AIDE + + From Marshal Ney, + Sire, I bring hasty word that all is poised + To strike the vital stroke, and only waits + Your Majesty's command, + + + NAPOLEON + + Which he shall have + When I have scanned the hills for Grouchy's helms. + + [NAPOLEON turns his glass to an upland four or five miles off on + the right, known as St. Lambert's Chapel Hill. Gazing more and + more intently, he takes rapid pinches of snuff in excitement. + NEY'S columns meanwhile standing for the word to advance, eighty + guns being ranged in front of La Belle Alliance in support of them.] + + I see a darkly crawling, slug-like shape + Embodying far out there,--troops seemingly-- + Grouchy's van-guard. What think you? + + + SOULT [also examining closely] + + Verily troops; + And, maybe, Grouchy's. But the air is hazed. + + + NAPOLEON + + If troops at all, they are Grouchy's. Why misgive, + And force on ills you fear! + + + ANOTHER MARSHAL + + It seems a wood. + Trees don bold outlines in their new-leafed pride. + + + ANOTHER MARSHAL + + It is the creeping shadow from a cloud. + + + ANOTHER MARSHAL + + It is a mass of stationary foot; + I can descry piled arms. + + [NAPOLEON sends off the order for NEY'S attack--the grand assault + on the English midst, including the farm of La Haye Sainte. It + opens with a half-hour's thunderous discharge of artillery, which + ceases at length to let d'Erlon's infantry pass. + + Four huge columns of these, shouting defiantly, push forwards in + face of the reciprocal fire from the cannon of the English. Their + effrontery carries them so near the Anglo-Allied lines that the + latter waver. But PICTON brings up PACK'S brigade, before which + the French in turn recede, though they make an attempt in La Haye + Sainte, whence BARING'S Germans pour a resolute fire. + + WELLINGTON, who is seen afar as one of a group standing by a + great elm, orders OMPTEDA to send assistance to BARING, as may + be gathered from the darting of aides to and fro between the + points, like house-flies dancing their quadrilles. + + East of the great highway the right columns of D'ERLON'S corps + have climbed the slopes. BYLANDT'S sorely exposed Dutch are + broken, and in their flight disorder the ranks of the English + Twenty-eighth, the Carabineers of the Ninety-fifth being also + dislodged from the sand-pit they occupied.] + + + NAPOLEON + + All prospers marvellously! Gomont is hemmed; + La Haye Sainte too; their centre jeopardized; + Travers and d'Erlon dominate the crest, + And further strength of foot is following close. + Their troops are raw; the flower of England's force + That fought in Spain, America now holds.-- + + [SIR TOMAS PICTON, seeing what is happening orders KEMPT'S + brigade forward. It volleys murderously DONZELOT'S columns + of D'ERLON'S corps, and repulses them. As they recede PICTON + is beheld shouting an order to charge.] + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + I catch a voice that cautions Picton now + Against his rashness. “What the hell care I,-- + Is my curst carcase worth a moment's mind?-- + Come on!” he answers. Onwardly he goes! + + [His tall, stern, saturnine figure with its bronzed complexion is + on nearer approach discerned heading the charge. As he advances + to the slope between the cross-roads and the sand-pit, riding very + conspicuously, he falls dead, a bullet in his forehead. His aide, + assisted by a soldier, drags the body beneath a tree and hastens + on. KEMPT takes his command. + + Next MARCOGNET is repulsed by PACK'S brigade. D'ERLON'S infantry + and TRAVERS'S cuirassiers are charged by the Union Brigade of + Scotch[23] Greys, Royal Dragoons, and Inniskillens, and cut down + everywhere, the brigade following them so furiously the LORD + UXBRIDGE tries in vain to recall it. On its coming near the + French it is overwhelmed by MILHAUD'S cuirassiers, scarcely a + fifth of the brigade returning. + + An aide enters to NAPOLEON from GENERAL DOMON.] + + + AIDE + + The General, on a far reconnaissance, + Says, sire, there is no room for longer doubt + That those debouching on St. Lambert's Hill + Are Prussian files. + + + NAPOLEON + + Then where is General Grouchy? + + [Enter COLONEL MARBOT with a prisoner.] + + Aha--a Prussian, too! How comes he here? + + + MARBOT + + Sire, my hussars have captured him near Lasnes-- + A subaltern of the Silesian Horse. + A note from Bulow to Lord Wellington, + Announcing that a Prussian corps is close, + Was found on him. He speaks our language, sire. + + + NAPOLEON [to prisoner] + + What force looms yonder on St. Lambert's Hill? + + + PRISONER + + General Count Bulow's van, your Majesty. + + [A thoughtful scowl crosses NAPOLEONS'S sallow face.] + + + NAPOLEON + + Where, then, did your main army lie last night? + + + PRISONER + + At Wavre. + + + NAPOLEON + + But clashed it with no Frenchmen there? + + + PRISONER + + With none. We deemed they had marched on Plancenoit. + + + NAPOLEON [shortly] + + Take him away. [The prisoner is removed.] Has Grouchy's whereabouts + Been sought, to apprize him of this Prussian trend? + + + SOULT + + Certainly, sire. I sent a messenger. + + + NAPOLEON [bitterly] + + A messenger! Had my poor Berthier been here + Six would have insufficed! Now then: seek Ney; + Bid him to sling the valour of his braves + Fiercely on England ere Count Bulow come; + And advertize the succours on the hill + As Grouchy's. [Aside] This is my one battle-chance; + The Allies have many such! [To SOULT] If Bulow nears, + He cannot join in time to share the fight. + And if he could, 'tis but a corps the more.... + This morning we had ninety chances ours, + We have threescore still. If Grouchy but retrieve + His fault of absence, conquest comes with eve! + + [The scene shifts.] + + + + SCENE III + + SAINT LAMBERT'S CHAPEL HILL + + [A hill half-way between Wavre and the fields of Waterloo, five + miles to the north-east of the scene preceding. The hill is + wooded, with some open land around. To the left of the scene, + towards Waterloo, is a valley.] + + + DUMB SHOW + + Marching columns in Prussian uniforms, coming from the direction of + Wavre, debouch upon the hill from the road through the wood. + + They are the advance-guard and two brigades of Bulow's corps, that + have been joined there by BLÜCHER. The latter has just risen from + the bed to which he has been confined since the battle of Ligny, + two days back. He still looks pale and shaken by the severe fall + and trampling he endured near the end of the action. + + On the summit the troops halt, and a discussion between BLÜCHER and + his staff ensues. + + The cannonade in the direction of Waterloo is growing more and more + violent. BLÜCHER, after looking this way and that, decides to fall + upon the French right at Plancenoit as soon as he can get there, + which will not be yet. + + Between this point and that the ground descends steeply to the + valley on the spectator's left, where there is a mud-bottomed + stream, the Lasne; the slope ascends no less abruptly on the other + side towards Plancenoit. It is across this defile alone that the + Prussian army can proceed thither- a route of unusual difficulty + for artillery; where, moreover, the enemy is suspected of having + placed a strong outpost during the night to intercept such an + approach. + + A figure goes forward--that of MAJOR FALKENHAUSEN, who is sent to + reconnoitre, and they wait a tedious time, the firing at Waterloo + growing more tremendous. FALKENHAUSEN comes back with the welcome + news that no outpost is there. + + There now remains only the difficulty of the defile itself; and the + attempt is made. BLÜCHER is descried riding hither and thither as + the guns drag heavily down the slope into the muddy bottom of the + valley. Here the wheels get stuck, and the men already tired by + marching since five in the morning, seem inclined to leave the guns + where they are. But the thunder from Waterloo still goes on, BLÜCHER + exhorts his men by words and eager gestures, and they do at length + get the guns across, though with much loss of time. + + The advance-guard now reaches some thick trees called the Wood of + Paris. It is followed by the LOSTHIN and HILLER divisions of foot, + and in due course by the remainder of the two brigades. Here they + halt, and await the arrival of the main body of BULOW'S corps, and + the third corps under THIELEMANN. + + The scene shifts. + + + + SCENE IV + + THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. THE ENGLISH POSITION + + [WELLINGTON, on Copenhagen, is again under the elm-tree behind La + Haye Sainte. Both horse and rider are covered with mud-splashes, + but the weather having grown finer the DUKE has taken off his cloak. + + UXBRIDGE, FITZROY SOMERSET, CLINTON, ALTEN, COLVILLE, DE LANCEY, + HERVEY, GORDON, and other of his staff officers and aides are + near him; there being also present GENERALS MUFFLING, HUGEL, and + ALAVA; also TYLER, PICTON'S aide. The roar of battle continues.] + + + WELLINGTON + + I am grieved at losing Picton; more than grieved. + He was as grim a devil as ever lived, + And roughish-mouthed withal. But never a man + More stout in fight, more stoical in blame! + + + TYLER + + Before he left for this campaign he said, + “When you shall hear of MY death, mark my words, + You'll hear of a bloody day!” and, on my soul, + 'Tis true. + + [Enter another aide-de-camp.] + + + AIDE + + Sir William Ponsonby, my lords, has fallen. + His horse got mud-stuck in a new-plowed plot, + Lancers surrounded him and bore him down, + And six then ran him through. The occasion sprung + Mainly from the Brigade's too reckless rush, + Sheer to the French front line. + + + WELLINGTON [gravely] + + Ah--so it comes! + The Greys were bound to pay--'tis always so-- + Full dearly for their dash so far afield. + Valour unballasted but lands its freight + On the enemy's shore.--What has become of Hill? + + + AIDE + + We have not seen him latterly, your Grace. + + + WELLINGTON + + By God, I hope I haven't lost him, too? + + + BRIDGMAN [just come up] + + Lord Hill's bay charger, being shot dead, your Grace, + Rolled over him in falling. He is bruised, + But hopes to be in place again betimes. + + + WELLINGTON + + Praise Fate for thinking better of that frown! + + [It is now nearing four o'clock. La Haye Sainte is devastated by + the second attack of NEY. The farm has been enveloped by DONZELOT'S + division, its garrison, the King's German Legion, having fought + till all ammunition was exhausted. The gates are forced open, and + in the retreat of the late defenders to the main Allied line they + are nearly all cut or shot down.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + O Farm of sad vicissitudes and strange! + Farm of the Holy Hedge, yet fool of change! + Whence lit so sanct a name on thy now violate grange? + + + WELLINGTON [to Muffling, resolutely] + + Despite their fierce advantage here, I swear + By every God that war can call upon + To hold our present place at any cost, + Until your force cooperate with our lines! + To that I stand; although 'tis bruited now + That Bulow's corps has only reached Ohain. + I've sent Freemantle hence to seek them there, + And give them inkling we shall need them soon. + + + MUFFLING [looking at his watch] + + I had hoped that Blücher would be here ere this. + + [The staff turn their glasses on the French position.] + + + UXBRIDGE + + What movement can it be they contemplate? + + + WELLINGTON + + A shock of cavalry on the hottest scale, + It seems to me.... [To aide] Bid him to reinforce + The front line with some second-line brigades; + Some, too, from the reserve. + + [The Brunswickers advance to support MAITLAND'S Guards, and the + MITCHELL and ADAM Brigades establish themselves above Hougomont, + which is still in flames. + + NEY, in continuation of the plan of throwing his whole force + on the British centre before the advent of the Prussians, now + intensifies his onslaught with the cavalry. Terrific discharges + of artillery initiate it to clear the ground. A heavy round- + shot dashes through the tree over the heads of WELLINGTON and + his generals, and boughs and leaves come flying down on them.] + + + WELLINGTON + + Good practice that! I vow they did not fire + So dexterously in Spain. [He calls up an aide.] Bid Ompteda + Direct the infantry to lie tight down + On the reverse ridge-slope, to screen themselves + While these close shots and shells are teasing us; + When the charge comes they'll cease. + + [The order is carried out. NEY'S cavalry attack now matures. + MILHAUD'S cuirassiers in twenty-four squadrons advance down the + opposite decline, followed and supported by seven squadrons of + chasseurs under DESNOETTES. They disappear for a minute in the + hollow between the armies.] + + + UXBRIDGE + + Ah--now we have got their long-brewed plot explained! + + + WELLINGTON [nodding] + + That this was rigged for some picked time to-day + I had inferred. But that it would be risked + Sheer on our lines, while still they stand unswayed, + In conscious battle-trim, I reckoned not. + It looks a madman's cruel enterprise! + + + FITZROY SOMERSET + + We have just heard that Ney embarked on it + Without an order, ere its aptness riped. + + + WELLINGTON + + It may be so: he's rash. And yet I doubt. + I know Napoleon. If the onset fail + It will be Ney's; if it succeed he'll claim it! + + [A dull reverberation of the tread of innumerable hoofs comes + from behind the hill, and the foremost troops rise into view.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Behold the gorgeous coming of those horse, + Accoutered in kaleidoscopic hues + That would persuade us war has beauty in it!-- + Discern the troopers' mien; each with the air + Of one who is himself a tragedy: + The cuirassiers, steeled, mirroring the day; + Red lancers, green chasseurs: behind the blue + The red; the red before the green: + A lingering-on till late in Christendom, + Of the barbaric trick to terrorize + The foe by aspect! + + [WELLINGTON directs his glass to an officer in a rich uniform + with many decorations on his breast, who rides near the front + of the approaching squadrons. The DUKE'S face expresses + admiration.] + + + WELLINGTON + + It's Marshal Ney himself who heads the charge. + The finest cavalry commander, he, + That wears a foreign plume; ay, probably + The whole world through! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + And when that matchless chief + Sentenced shall lie to ignominious death + But technically deserved, no finger he + Who speaks will lift to save him.! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + To his shame. + We must discount war's generous impulses + I sadly see. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Be mute, and let spin on + This whirlwind of the Will! + + [As NEY'S cavalry ascends the English position the swish of the + horses' breasts through the standing corn can be heard, and the + reverberation of hoofs increases in strength. The English gunners + stand with their portfires ready, which are seen glowing luridly + in the daylight. There is comparative silence.] + + + A VOICE + + Now, captains, are you loaded? + + + CAPTAINS + + Yes, my lord. + + + VOICE + + Point carefully, and wait till their whole height + Shows above the ridge. + + [When the squadrons rise in full view, within sixty yards of the + cannon-mouths, the batteries fire, with a concussion that shakes + the hill itself. Their shot punch holes through the front ranks + of the cuirassiers, and horse and riders fall in heaps. But they + are not stopped, hardly checked, galloping up to the mouths of the + guns, passing between the pieces, and plunging among the Allied + infantry behind the ridge, who, with the advance of the horsemen, + have sprung up from their prone position and formed into squares.] + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + Ney guides the fore-front of the carabineers + Through charge and charge, with rapid recklessness. + Horses, cuirasses, sabres, helmets, men, + Impinge confusedly on the pointed prongs + Of the English kneeling there, whose dim red shapes + Behind their slanted steel seem trampled flat + And sworded to the sward. The charge recedes, + And lo, the tough lines rank there as before, + Save that they are shrunken. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Hero of heroes, too, + Ney, [not forgetting those who gird against him].-- + Simple and single-souled lieutenant he; + Why should men's many-valued motions take + So barbarous a groove! + + [The cuirassiers and lancers surge round the English and Allied + squares like waves, striking furiously on them and well-nigh + breaking them. They stand in dogged silence amid the French + cheers.] + + + WELLINGTON [to the nearest square] + + Hard pounding this, my men! I truly trust + You'll pound the longest! + + + SQUARE + + Hip-hip-hip-hurrah! + + + MUFFLING [again referring to his watch] + + However firmly they may stand, in faith, + Their firmness must have bounds to it, because + There are bounds to human strength!... Your, Grace, + To leftward now, to spirit Zieten on. + + + WELLINGTON + + Good. It is time! I think he well be late, + However, in the field. + + [MUFFLING goes. Enter an aide, breathless.] + + + AIDE + + Your Grace, the Ninety-fifth are patience-spent + With standing under fire so passing long. + They writhe to charge--or anything but stand! + + + WELLINGTON + + Not yet. They shall have at 'em later on. + At present keep them firm. + + [Exit aide. The Allied squares stand like little red-brick castles, + independent of each other, and motionless except at the dry hurried + command “Close up!” repeated every now and then as they are slowly + thinned. On the other hand, under their firing and bayonets a + disorder becomes apparent among the charging horse, on whose + cuirasses the bullets snap like stones on window-panes. At this + the Allied cavalry waiting in the rear advance; and by degrees they + deliver the squares from their enemies, who are withdrawn to their + own position to prepare for a still more strenuous assault. The + point of view shifts.] + + + + SCENE V + + THE SAME. THE WOMEN'S CAMP NEAR MONT SAINT-JEAN + + [On the sheltered side of a clump of trees at the back of the + English position camp-fires are smouldering. Soldiers' wives, + mistresses, and children from a few months to five or six years + of age, sit on the ground round the fires or on armfuls of straw + from the adjoining farm. Wounded soldiers lie near the women. + The wind occasionally brings the smoke and smell of battle into + the encampment, the noise being continuous. Two waggons stand + near; also a surgeon's horse in charge of a batman, laden with + bone-saws, knives, probes, tweezers, and other surgical instruments. + Behind lies a woman who has just given birth to a child, which a + second woman is holding. + + Many of the other women are shredding lint, the elder children + assisting. Some are dressing the slighter wounds of the soldiers + who have come in here instead of going further. Along the road + near is a continual procession of bearers of wounded men to the + rear. The occupants of the camp take hardly any notice of the + thundering of the cannon. A camp-follower is playing a fiddle + near. Another woman enters.] + + + WOMAN + + There's no sign of my husband any longer. His battalion is half-a- + mile from where it was. He looked back as they wheeled off towards + the fighting-line, as much as to say, “Nancy, if I don't see 'ee + again, this is good-bye, my dear.” Yes, poor man!... Not but + what 'a had a temper at times! + + + SECOND WOMAN + + I'm out of all that. My husband--as I used to call him for form's + sake--is quiet enough. He was wownded at Quarter-Brass the day + before yesterday, and died the same night. But I didn't know it + till I got here, and then says I, “Widder or no widder, I mean to + see this out.” + + [A sergeant staggers in with blood dropping from his face.] + + + SERGEANT + + Damned if I think you will see it out, mis'ess, for if I don't + mistake there'll be a retreat of the whole army on Brussels soon. + We can't stand much longer!--For the love of God, have ye got a + cup of water, if nothing stronger? [They hand a cup.] + + + THIRD WOMAN [entering and sinking down] + + The Lord send that I may never see again what I've been seeing while + looking for my poor galliant Joe! The surgeon asked me to lend a + hand; and 'twas worse than opening innerds at a pig-killing! [She + faints.] + + + FOURTH WOMAN [to a little girl] + + Never mind her, my dear; come and help me with this one. [She goes + with the girl to a soldier in red with buff facings who lies some + distance off.] Ah--'tis no good. He's gone. + + + GIRL + + No, mother. His eyes are wide open, a-staring to get a sight of + the battle! + + + FOURTH WOMAN + + That's nothing. Lots of dead ones stare in that silly way. It + depends upon where they were hit. I was all through the Peninsula; + that's how I know. [She covers the horny gaze of the man. Shouts + and louder discharges are heard.]--Heaven's high tower, what's that? + + + [Enter an officer's servant.[24]] + + + SERVANT + + Waiting with the major's spare hoss--up to my knees in mud from + the rain that had come down like baccy-pipe stems all the night + and morning--I have just seen a charge never beholded since the + days of the Amalekites! The squares still stand, but Ney's cavalry + have made another attack. Their swords are streaming with blood, + and their horses' hoofs squash out our poor fellow's bowels as they + lie. A ball has sunk in Sir Thomas Picton's forehead and killed him + like Goliath the Philistine. I don't see what's to stop the French. + Well, it's the Lord's doing and marvellous in our eyes. Hullo, + who's he? [They look towards the road.] A fine hale old gentleman, + isn't he? What business has a man of that sort here? + + [Enter, on the highway near, the DUKE OF RICHMOND in plain clothes, + on horseback, accompanied by two youths, his sons. They draw + rein on an eminence, and gaze towards the battlefields.] + + + RICHMOND [to son] + + Everything looks as bad as possible just now. I wonder where your + brother is? However, we can't go any nearer.... Yes, the bat- + horses are already being moved off, and there are more and more + fugitives. A ghastly finish to your mother's ball, by Gad if it + isn't! + + [They turn their horses towards Brussels. Enter, meeting them, + MR. LEGH, a Wessex gentleman, also come out to view the battle.] + + + LEGH + + Can you tell me, sir, how the battle is going? + + + RICHMOND + + Badly, badly, I fear, sir. There will be a retreat soon, seemingly. + + + LEGH + + Indeed! Yes, a crowd of fugitives are coming over the hill even now. + What will these poor women do? + + + RICHMOND + + God knows! They will be ridden over, I suppose. Though it is + extraordinary how they do contrive to escape destruction while + hanging so close to the rear of an action! They are moving, + however. Well, we will move too. + + [Exeunt DUKE OF RICHMOND, sons, and MR. LEGH. The point of view + shifts.] + + + + SCENE VI + + THE SAME. THE FRENCH POSITION + + [NEY'S charge of cavalry against the opposite upland has been + three times renewed without success. He collects the scattered + squadrons to renew it a fourth time. The glittering host again + ascends the confronting slopes over the bodies of those previously + left there, and amid horses wandering about without riders, or + crying as they lie with entrails trailing or limbs broken.] + + NAPOLEON [starting up] + + A horrible dream has gripped me--horrible! + I saw before me Lannes--just as he looked + That day at Aspern: mutilated, bleeding! + “What--blood again?” he said to me. “Still blood?” + + [He further arouses himself, takes snuff vehemently, and looks + through his glass.] + + What time is it?--Ah, these assaults of Ney's! + They are a blunder; they've been enterprised + An hour too early!... There Lheritier goes + Onward with his division next Milhaud; + Now Kellermann must follow up with his. + So one mistake makes many. Yes; ay; yes! + + + SOULT + + I fear that Ney has compromised us here + Just as at Jena; even worse! + + + NAPOLEON + + No less + Must we support him now he is launched on it.... + The miracle is that he is still alive! + + [NEY and his mass of cavalry again pass the English batteries + and disappear amid the squares beyond.] + + Their cannon are abandoned; and their squares + Again environed--see! I would to God + Murat could be here! Yet I disdained + His proffered service.... All my star asks now + Is to break some half-dozen of those blocks + Of English yonder. He was the man to do it. + + [NEY and D'ERLON'S squadrons are seen emerging from the English + squares in a disorganized state, the attack having failed like + the previous ones. An aide-de-camp enters to NAPOLEON.] + + + AIDE + + The Prussians have debouched on our right rear + From Paris-wood; and Losthin's infantry + Appear by Plancenoit; Hiller's to leftwards. + Two regiments of their horse protect their front, + And three light batteries. + + [A haggard shade crosses NAPOLEON'S face.] + + + NAPOLEON + + What then! That's not a startling force as yet. + A counter-stroke by Domon's cavalry + Must shatter them. Lobau must bring his foot + Up forward, heading for the Prussian front, + Unrecking losses by their cannonade. + + [Exit aide. The din of battle continues. DOMON'S horse are soon + seen advancing towards and attacking the Prussian hussars in front + of the infantry; and he next attempts to silence the Prussian + batteries playing on him by leading up his troops and cutting + down the gunners. But he has to fall back upon the infantry + of LOBAU. Enter another aide-de-camp.] + + + AIDE + + These tiding I report, your Majesty:-- + Von Ryssel's and von Hacke's Prussian foot + Have lately sallied from the Wood of Paris, + Bearing on us; no vast array as yet; + But twenty thousand loom not far behind + These vanward marchers! + + + NAPOLEON + + Ah! They swarm thus thickly? + But be they hell's own legions we'll defy them!-- + Lobau's men will stand firm. + + [He looks in the direction of the English lines, where NEY'S + cavalry-assaults still linger furiously on.] + + But who rides hither, + Spotting the sky with clods in his high haste? + + + SOULT + + It looks like Colonel Heymes--come from Ney. + + + NAPOLEON [sullenly] + + And his face shows what clef his music's in! + + [Enter COLONEL HEYMES, blood-stained, muddy, and breathless.] + + + HEYMES + + The Prince of Moscow, sire, the Marshal Ney, + Bids me implore that infantry be sent + Immediately, to further his attack. + They cannot be dispensed with, save we fail! + + + NAPOLEON [furiously] + + Infantry! Where the sacred God thinks he + I can find infantry for him! Forsooth, + Does he expect me to create them--eh? + Why sends he such a message, seeing well + How we are straitened here! + + + HEYMES + + Such was the prayer + Of my commission, sire. And I say + That I myself have seen his strokes must waste + Without such backing. + + + NAPOLEON + + Why? + + + HEYMES + + Our cavalry + Lie stretched in swathes, fronting the furnace-throats + Of the English cannon as a breastwork built + Of reeking copses. Marshal Ney's third horse + Is shot. Besides the slain, Donop, Guyot, + Lheritier, Piquet, Travers, Delort, more, + Are vilely wounded. On the other hand + Wellington has sought refuge in a square, + Few of his generals are not killed or hit, + And all is tickle with him. But I see, + Likewise, that I can claim no reinforcement, + And will return and say so. + + [Exit HEYMES] + + + NAPOLEON [to Soult, sadly] + + Ney does win me! + I fain would strengthen him.--Within an ace + Of breaking down the English as he is, + 'Twould write upon the sunset “Victory!”-- + But whom may spare we from the right here now? + So single man! + + [An interval.] + + Life's curse begins, I see, + With helplessness!... All I can compass is + To send Durutte to fall on Papelotte, + And yet more strongly occupy La Haye, + To cut off Bulow's right from bearing up + And checking Ney's attack. Further than this + None but the Gods can scheme! + + [SOULT hastily begins writing orders to that effect. The point + of view shifts.] + + + + SCENE VII + + THE SAME. THE ENGLISH POSITION + + [The din of battle continues. WELLINGTON, UXBRIDGE, HILL, DE + LANCEY, GORDON, and others discovered near the middle of the line.] + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + It is a moment when the steadiest pulse + Thuds pit-a-pat. The crisis shapes and nears + For Wellington as for his counter-chief. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + The hour is shaking him, unshakeable + As he may seem! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Know'st not at this stale time + That shaken and unshaken are alike + But demonstrations from the Back of Things? + Must I again reveal It as It hauls + The halyards of the world? + + [A transparency as in earlier scenes again pervades the spectacle, + and the ubiquitous urging of the Immanent Will becomes visualized. + The web connecting all the apparently separate shapes includes + WELLINGTON in its tissue with the rest, and shows him, like them, + as acting while discovering his intention to act. By the lurid + light the faces of every row, square, group, and column of men, + French and English, wear the expression of that of people in a + dream.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES [tremulously] + + Yea, sire; I see. + Disquiet me, pray, no more! + + [The strange light passes, and the embattled hosts on the field + seem to move independently as usual.] + + + WELLINGTON [to Uxbridge] + + Manoeuvring does not seem to animate + Napoleon's methods now. Forward he comes, + And pounds away on us in the ancient style, + Till he is beaten back in the ancient style; + And so the see-saw sways! + + [The din increases. WELLINGTON'S aide-de-camp, Sir A. GORDON, + a little in his rear, falls mortally wounded. The DUKE turns + quickly.] + + But where is Gordon? + Ah--hit is he! That's bad, that's bad, by God. + + [GORDON is removed. An aide enters.] + + + AIDE + + Your Grace, the Colonel Ompteda has fallen, + And La Haye Sainte is now a bath of blood. + Nothing more can be done there, save with help. + The Rifles suffer sharply! + + [An aide is seen coming from KEMPT.] + + + WELLINGTON + + What says he? + + + DE LANCEY + + He says that Kempt, being riddled through and thinned, + Sends him for reinforcements. + + + WELLINGTON [with heat] + + Reinforcements? + And where am I to get him reinforcements + In Heaven's name! I've no reinforcements here, + As he should know. + + + AIDE [hesitating] + + What's to be done, your Grace? + + + WELLINGTON + + Done? Those he has left him, be they many or few, + Fight till they fall, like others in the field! + + [Exit aide. The Quartermaster-General DE LANCEY, riding by + WELLINGTON, is struck by a lobbing shot that hurls him over + the head of his horse. WELLINGTON and others go to him.] + + + DE LANCEY [faintly] + + I may as well be left to die in peace! + + + WELLINGTON + + He may recover. Take him to the rear, + And call the best attention up to him. + + [DE LANCEY is carried off. The next moment a shell bursts close + to WELLINGTON.] + + + HILL [approaching] + + I strongly feel you stand too much exposed! + + + WELLINGTON + + I know, I know. It matters not one damn! + I may as well be shot as not perceive + What ills are raging here. + + + HILL + + Conceding such, + And as you may be ended momently, + A truth there is no blinking, what commands + Have you to leave me, should fate shape it so? + + + WELLINGTON + + These simply: to hold out unto the last, + As long as one man stands on one lame leg + With one ball in his pouch!--then end as I. + + [He rides on slowly with the others. NEY'S charges, though + fruitless so far, are still fierce. His troops are now reduced + to one-half. Regiments of the BACHELU division, and the JAMIN + brigade, are at last moved up to his assistance. They are partly + swept down by the Allied batteries, and partly notched away by + the infantry, the smoke being now so thick that the position of + the battalions is revealed only by the flashing of the priming- + pans and muzzles, and by the furious oaths heard behind the cloud. + WELLINGTON comes back. Enter another aide-de-camp.] + + + AIDE + + We bow to the necessity of saying + That our brigade is lessened to one-third, + Your Grace. And those who are left alive of it + Are so unmuscled by fatigue and thirst + That some relief, however temporary, + Becomes sore need. + + + WELLINGTON + + Inform your general + That his proposal asks the impossible! + That he, I, every Englishman afield, + Must fall upon the spot we occupy, + Our wounds in front. + + + AIDE + + It is enough, your Grace. + I answer for't that he, those under him, + And I withal, will bear us as you say. + + [Exit aide. The din of battle goes on. WELLINGTON is grave but + calm. Like those around him, he is splashed to the top of his hat + with partly dried mire, mingled with red spots; his face is grimed + in the same way, little courses showing themselves where the sweat + has trickled down from his brow and temples.] + + + CLINTON [to Hill] + + A rest would do our chieftain no less good, + In faith, than that unfortunate brigade! + He is tried damnably; and much more strained + Than I have ever seen him. + + + HILL + + Endless risks + He's running likewise. What the hell would happen + If he were shot, is more than I can say! + + + WELLINGTON [calling to some near] + + At Talavera, Salamanca, boys, + And at Vitoria, we saw smoke together; + And though the day seems wearing doubtfully, + Beaten we must not be! What would they say + Of us at home, if so? + + + A CRY [from the French] + + Their centre breaks! + Vive l'Empereur! + + [It comes from the FOY and BACHELU divisions, which are rushing + forward. HALKETT'S and DUPLAT'S brigades intercept. DUPLAT + falls, shot dead; but the venturesome French regiments, pierced + with converging fires, and cleft with shells, have to retreat.] + + + HILL [joining Wellington] + + The French artillery-fire + To the right still renders regiments restive there + That have to stand. The long exposure galls them. + + + WELLINGTON + + They must be stayed as our poor means afford. + I have to bend attention steadfastly + Upon the centre here. The game just now + Goes all against us; and if staunchness fail + But for one moment with these thinning foot, + Defeat succeeds! + + [The battle continues to sway hither and thither with concussions, + wounds, smoke, the fumes of gunpowder, and the steam from the hot + viscera of grape-torn horses and men. One side of a Hanoverian + square is blown away; the three remaining sides form themselves + into a triangle. So many of his aides are cut down that it is + difficult for WELLINGTON to get reports of what is happening + afar. It begins to be discovered at the front that a regiment of + hussars, and others without ammunition, have deserted, and that + some officers in the rear, honestly concluding the battle to be + lost, are riding quietly off to Brussels. Those who are left + unwounded of WELLINGTON'S staff show gloomy misgivings at such + signs, despite their own firmness.] + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + One needs must be a ghost + To move here in the midst 'twixt host and host! + Their balls scream brisk and breezy tunes through me + As I were an organ-stop. It's merry so; + What damage mortal flesh must undergo! + + [A Prussian officer enters to MUFFLING, who has again rejoined + the DUKE'S suite. MUFFLING hastens forward to WELLINGTON.] + + + MUFFLING + + Blücher has just begun to operate; + But owing to Gneisenau's stolid stagnancy + The body of our army looms not yet! + As Zieten's corps still plod behind Smohain + Their coming must be late. Blücher's attack + Strikes the remote right rear of the enemy, + Somewhere by Plancenoit. + + + WELLINGTON + + A timely blow; + But would that Zieten sped! Well, better late + Than never. We'll still stand. + + [The point of observation shifts.] + + + + SCENE VIII + + THE SAME. LATER + + [NEY'S long attacks on the centre with cavalry having failed, + those left of the squadrons and their infantry-supports fall + back pell-mell in broken groups across the depression between + the armies. + + Meanwhile BULOW, having engaged LOBAU'S Sixth Corps, carries + Plancenoit. + + The artillery-fire between the French and the English continues. + An officer of the Third Foot-guards comes up to WELLINGTON and + those of his suite that survive.] + + + OFFICER + + Our Colonel Canning--coming I know not whence-- + + + WELLINGTON + + I lately sent him with important words + To the remoter lines. + + + OFFICER + + As he returned + A grape-shot struck him in the breast; he fell, + At once a dead man. General Halkett, too, + Has had his cheek shot through, but still keeps going. + + + WELLINGTON + + And how proceeds De Lancey? + + + OFFICER + + I am told + That he forbids the surgeons waste their time + On him, who well can wait till worse are eased. + + + WELLINGTON + + A noble fellow. + + [NAPOLEON can now be seen, across the valley, pushing forward a + new scheme of some sort, urged to it obviously by the visible + nearing of further Prussian corps. The EMPEROR is as critically + situated as WELLINGTON, and his army is now formed in a right + angle [“en potence”], the main front to the English, the lesser + to as many of the Prussians as have yet arrived. His gestures + show him to be giving instructions of desperate import to a + general whom he has called up.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + He bids La Bedoyere to speed away + Along the whole sweep of the surging line, + And there announce to the breath-shotten bands + Who toil for a chimaera trustfully, + With seventy pounds of luggage on their loins, + That the dim Prussian masses seen afar + Are Grouchy's three-and-thirty thousand, come + To clinch a victory. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + But Ney demurs! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Ney holds indignantly that such a feint + Is not war-worthy. Says Napoleon then, + Snuffing anew, with sour sardonic scowl, + That he is choiceless. + + + SPIRIT SINISTER + + Excellent Emperor! + He tops all human greatness; in that he + To lesser grounds of greatness adds the prime, + Of being without a conscience. + + [LA BEDOYERE and orderlies start on their mission. The false + intelligence is seen to spread, by the excited motion of the + columns, and the soldiers can be heard shouting as their spirits + revive. + + WELLINGTON is beginning to discern the features of the coming + onset, when COLONEL FRASER rides up.] + + + FRASER + + We have just learnt from a deserting captain, + One of the carabineers who charged of late, + That an assault which dwarfs all instances-- + The whole Imperial Guard in welded weight-- + Is shortly to be made. + + + WELLINGTON + + For your smart speed + My thanks. My observation is confirmed. + We'll hasten now along the battle-line [to Staff], + As swiftest means for giving orders out + Whereby to combat this. + + [The speaker, accompanied by HILL, UXBRIDGE, and others--all now + looking as worn and besmirched as the men in the ranks--proceed + along the lines, and dispose the brigades to meet the threatened + shock. The infantry are brought out of the shelter they have + recently sought, the cavalry stationed in the rear, and the + batteries of artillery hitherto kept in reserve are moved to the + front. + + The last Act of the battle begins. + + There is a preliminary attack by DONZELOT'S columns, combined + with swarms of sharpshooters, to the disadvantage of the English + and their Allies. WELLINGTON has scanned it closely. FITZROY + SOMERSET, his military secretary, comes up.] + + + WELLINGTON + + What casualty has thrown its shade among + The regiments of Nassau, to shake them so? + + + SOMERSET + + The Prince of Orange has been badly struck-- + A bullet through his shoulder--so they tell; + And Kielmansegge has shown some signs of stress. + Kincaird's tried line wanes leaner and more lean-- + Whittled to a weak skein of skirmishers; + The Twenty-seventh lie dead. + + + WELLINGTON + + Ah yes--I know! + + [While they watch developments a cannon-shot passes and knocks + SOMERSET'S right arm to a mash. He is assisted to the rear. + + NEY and FRIANT now lead forward the last and most desperate + assault of the day, in charges of the Old and Middle Guard, + the attack by DONZELOT and ALLIX further east still continuing as + a support. It is about a quarter-past eight, and the midsummer + evening is fine after the wet night and morning, the sun approaching + its setting in a sky of gorgeous colours. + + The picked and toughened Guard, many of whom stood in the ranks + at Austerlitz and Wagram, have been drawn up in three or four + echelons, the foremost of which now advances up the slopes to + the Allies' position. The others follow at intervals, the + drummers beating the “pas de charge.”] + + + CHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music] + + Twice thirty throats of couchant cannonry-- + Ranked in a hollow curve, to close their blaze + Upon the advancing files--wait silently + Like to black bulls at gaze. + + The Guard approaches nearer and more near: + To touch-hole moves each match of smoky sheen: + The ordnance roars: the van-ranks disappear + As if wiped off the scene. + + The aged Friant falls as it resounds; + Ney's charger drops--his fifth on this sore day-- + Its rider from the quivering body bounds + And forward foots his way. + + The cloven columns tread the English height, + Seize guns, repulse battalions rank by rank, + While horse and foot artillery heavily bite + Into their front and flank. + + It nulls the power of a flesh-built frame + To live within that zone of missiles. Back + The Old Guard, staggering, climbs to whence it came. + The fallen define its track. + + [The second echelon of the Imperial Guard has come up to the + assault. Its columns have borne upon HALKETT'S right. HALKETT, + desperate to keep his wavering men firm, himself seizes and + waves the flag of the Thirty-third, in which act he falls wounded. + But the men rally. Meanwhile the Fifty-second, covered by the + Seventy-first, has advanced across the front, and charges the + Imperial Guard on the flank. + + The third echelon next arrives at the English lines and squares; + rushes through the very focus of their fire, and seeing nothing + more in front, raises a shout. + + + IMPERIAL GUARD + + The Emperor! It's victory! + + + WELLINGTON + + Stand up, Guards! + Form line upon the front face of the square! + + [Two thousand of MAITLAND'S Guards, hidden in the hollow roadway, + thereupon spring up, form as ordered, and reveal themselves as a + fence of leveled firelocks four deep. The flints click in a + multitude, the pans flash, and volley after volley is poured into + the bear-skinned figures of the massed French, who kill COLONEL + D'OYLEY in returning fire.] + + + WELLINGTON + + Now drive the fellows in! Go on; go on! + You'll do it now! + + [COLBORNE converges on the French guard with the Fifty-second, and + The former splits into two as the climax comes. ADAM, MAITLAND, + and COLBORNE pursue their advantage. The Imperial columns are + broken, and their confusion is increased by grape-shot from + BOLTON'S battery.] + + Campbell, this order next: + Vivian's hussars are to support, and bear + Against the cavalry towards Belle Alliance. + Go--let him know. + + [Sir C. CAMPBELL departs with the order. Soon VIVIAN'S and + VANDELEUR'S light horse are seen advancing, and in due time the + French cavalry are rolled back. + + WELLINGTON goes in the direction of the hussars with UXBRIDGE. A + cannon-shot hisses past.] + + + UXBRIDGE [starting] + + I have lost my leg, by God! + + + WELLINGTON + + By God, and have you! Ay--the wind o' the shot + Blew past the withers of my Copenhagen + Like the foul sweeping of a witch's broom.-- + Aha--they are giving way! + + [While UXBRIDGE is being helped to the rear, WELLINGTON makes a + sign to SALTOUN, Colonel of the First Footguards.] + + + SALTOUN [shouting] + + Boys, now's your time; + Forward and win! + + + FRENCH VOICES + + The Guard gives way--we are beaten! + + [They recede down the hill, carrying confusion into NAPOLEON'S + centre just as the Prussians press forward at a right angle from + the other side of the field. NAPOLEON is seen standing in the + hollow beyond La Haye Sainte, alone, except for the presence of + COUNT FLAHAULT, his aide-de-camp. His lips move with sudden + exclamation. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + He says “Now all is lost! The clocks of the world + Strike my last empery-hour.” + + [Towards La Haye Sainte the French of DONZELOT and ALLIX, who + are fighting KEMPT, PACK, KRUSE, and LAMBERT, seeing what has + happened to the Old and Middle Guard, lose heart and recede + likewise; so that the whole French line rolls back like a tide. + Simultaneously the Prussians are pressing forward at Papelotte + and La Haye. The retreat of the French grows into a panic.] + + + FRENCH VOICES [despairingly] + + We are betrayed! + + [WELLINGTON rides at a gallop to the most salient point of the + English position, halts, and waves his hat as a signal to all + the army. The sign is answered by a cheer along the length of + the line.] + + + WELLINGTON + + No cheering yet, my lads; but bear ahead, + Before the inflamed face of the west out there + Dons blackness. So you'll round your victory! + + [The few aides that are left unhurt dart hither and thither with + this message, and the whole English host and it allies advance + in an ordered mass down the hill except some of the artillery, + who cannot get their wheels over the bank of corpses in front. + Trumpets, drums, and bugles resound with the advance. + + The streams of French fugitives as they run are cut down and shot + by their pursuers, whose clothes and contracted features are + blackened by smoke and cartridge-biting, and soiled with loam + and blood. Some French blow out their own brains as they fly. + The sun drops below the horizon while the slaughter goes on.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Is this the last Esdraelon of a moil + For mortal man's effacement? + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Warfare, mere, + Plied by the Managed for the Managers; + To wit: by frenzied folks who profit nought + For those who profit all! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Between the jars + Of these who live, I hear uplift and move + The bones of those who placidly have lain + Within the sacred garths of yon grey fanes-- + Nivelles, and Plancenoit, and Braine l'Alleud-- + Beneath the unmemoried mounds through deedless years + Their dry jaws quake: “What Sabaoath is this, + That shakes us in our unobtrusive shrouds, + As though our tissues did not yet abhor + The fevered feats of life?” + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Mere fancy's feints! + How know the coffined what comes after them, + Even though it whirl them to the Pleiades?-- + Turn to the real. + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + That hatless, smoke-smirched shape + There in the vale, is still the living Ney, + His sabre broken in his hand, his clothes + Slitten with ploughing ball and bayonet, + One epaulette shorn away. He calls out “Follow!” + And a devoted handful follow him + Once more into the carnage. Hear his voice. + + + NEY [calling afar] + + My friends, see how a Marshal of France can die! + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Alas, not here in battle, something hints, + But elsewhere!... Who's the sworded brother-chief + Swept past him in the tumult? + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + D'Erlon he. + Ney cries to him: + + + NEY + + Be sure of this, my friend, + If we don't perish here at English hands, + Nothing is left us but the halter-noose + The Bourbons will provide! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + A caustic wit, + And apt, to those who deal in adumbrations! + + [The brave remnant of the Imperial Guard repulses for a time the + English cavalry under Vivian, in which MAJOR HOWARD and LIEUTENANT + GUNNING of the Tenth Hussars are shot. But the war-weary French + cannot cope with the pursuing infantry, helped by grape-shot from + the batteries. + + NAPOLEON endeavours to rally them. It is his last effort as a + warrior; and the rally ends feebly.] + + + NAPOLEON + + They are crushed! So it has ever been since Crecy! + + [He is thrown violently off his horse, and bids his page bring + another, which he mounts, and is lost to sight.] + + + SPIRIT OF RUMOUR + + He loses his last chance of dying well! + + [The three or four heroic battalions of the Old and Middle Guard + fall back step by step, halting to reform in square when they + get badly broken and shrunk. At last they are surrounded by the + English Guards and other foot, who keep firing on them and smiting + them to smaller and smaller numbers. GENERAL CAMBRONNE is inside + the square.] + + + COLONEL HUGH HALKETT [shouting] + + Surrender! And preserve those heroes' lives! + + + CAMBRONNE [with exasperation] + + Mer-r-rde!... You've to deal with desperates, man, today: + Life is a byword here! + + [Hollow laughter, as from people in hell, comes approvingly from + the remains of the Old Guard. The English proceed with their + massacre, the devoted band thins and thins, and a ball strikes + CAMBRONNE, who falls, and is trampled over.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Observe that all wide sight and self-command + Desert these throngs now driven to demonry + By the Immanent Unrecking. Nought remains + But vindictiveness here amid the strong, + And there amid the weak an impotent rage. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Why prompts the Will so senseless-shaped a doing? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + I have told thee that It works unwittingly, + As one possessed, not judging. + + + SEMICHORUS I OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music] + + Of Its doings if It knew, + What It does It would not do! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Since It knows not, what far sense + Speeds Its spinnings in the Immense? + + + SEMICHORUS I + + None; a fixed foresightless dream + Is Its whole philosopheme. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Just so; an unconscious planning, + Like a potter raptly panning! + + + CHORUS + + Are then, Love and Light Its aim-- + Good Its glory, Bad Its blame? + Nay; to alter evermore + Things from what they were before. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Your knowings of the Unknowable declared, + Let the last pictures of the play be bared. + + [Enter, fighting, more English and Prussians against the French. + NEY is caught by the throng and borne ahead. RULLIERE hides an + eagle beneath his coat and follows Ney. NAPOLEON is involved + none knows where in the crowd of fugitives. + + WELLINGTON and BLÜCHER come severally to the view. They meet in + the dusk and salute warmly. The Prussian bands strike up “God save + the King” as the two shake hands. From his gestures of assent it + can be seen that WELLINGTON accepts BLÜCHER'S offer to pursue. + + The reds disappear from the sky, and the dusk grows deeper. The + action of the battle degenerates to a hunt, and recedes further + and further into the distance southward. When the tramplings + and shouts of the combatants have dwindled, the lower sounds are + noticeable that come from the wounded: hopeless appeals, cries + for water, elaborate blasphemies, and impotent execrations of + Heaven and hell. In the vast and dusky shambles black slouching + shapes begin to move, the plunderers of the dead and dying. + + The night grows clear and beautiful, and the moon shines musingly + down. But instead of the sweet smell of green herbs and dewy rye + as at her last beaming upon these fields, there is now the stench + of gunpowder and a muddy stew of crushed crops and gore.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + So hath the Urging Immanence used to-day + Its inadvertent might to field this fray: + And Europe's wormy dynasties rerobe + Themselves in their old gilt, to dazzle anew the globe! + + [The scene us curtained by a night-mist.[25]] + + + + SCENE IX + + THE WOOD OF BOSSU + + [It is midnight. NAPOLEON enters a glade of the wood, a solitary + figure on a faded horse. The shadows of the boughs travel over + his listless form as he moves along. The horse chooses its own + path, comes to a standstill, and feeds. The tramp of BERTRAND, + SOULT, DROUOT, and LOBAU'S horses, gone forward in hope to find + a way of retreat, is heard receding over the hill.] + + + NAPOLEON [to himself, languidly] + + Here should have been some troops of Gerard's corps, + Left to protect the passage of the convoys, + Yet they, too, fail.... I have nothing more to lose, + But life! + + [Flocks of fugitive soldiers pass along the adjoining road without + seeing him. NAPOLEON'S head droops lower and lower as he sits + listless in the saddle, and he falls into a fitful sleep. The + moon shines upon his face, which is drawn and waxen.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + “Sic diis immortalibus placet,”-- + “Thus is it pleasing to the immortal gods,” + As earthlings used to say. Thus, to this last, + The Will in thee has moved thee, Bonaparte, + As we say now. + + + NAPOLEON [starting] + + Whose frigid tones are those, + Breaking upon my lurid loneliness + So brusquely?... Yet, 'tis true, I have ever know + That such a Will I passively obeyed! + + [He drowses again.] + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Nothing care I for these high-doctrined dreams, + And shape the case in quite a common way, + So I would ask, Ajaccian Bonaparte, + Has all this been worth while? + + + NAPOLEON + + O hideous hour, + Why am I stung by spectral questionings? + Did not my clouded soul incline to match + Those of the corpses yonder, thou should'st rue + Thy saying, Fiend, whoever those may'st be!... + + Why did the death-drops fail to bite me close + I took at Fontainebleau? Had I then ceased, + This deep had been umplumbed; had they but worked, + I had thrown threefold the glow of Hannibal + Down History's dusky lanes!--Is it too late?... + Yes. Self-sought death would smoke but damply here! + + If but a Kremlin cannon-shot had met me + My greatness would have stood: I should have scored + A vast repute, scarce paralleled in time. + As it did not, the fates had served me best + If in the thick and thunder of to-day, + Like Nelson, Harold, Hector, Cyrus, Saul, + I had been shifted from this jail of flesh, + To wander as a greatened ghost elsewhere. + --Yes, a good death, to have died on yonder field; + But never a ball came padding down my way! + + So, as it is, a miss-mark they will dub me; + And yet--I found the crown of France in the mire, + And with the point of my prevailing sword + I picked it up! But for all this and this + I shall be nothing.... + To shoulder Christ from out the topmost niche + In human fame, as once I fondly felt, + Was not for me. I came too late in time + To assume the prophet or the demi-god, + A part past playing now. My only course + To make good showance to posterity + Was to implant my line upon the throne. + And how shape that, if now extinction nears? + Great men are meteors that consume themselves + To light the earth. This is my burnt-out hour. + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Thou sayest well. Thy full meridian-shine + Was in the glory of the Dresden days, + When well-nigh every monarch throned in Europe + Bent at thy footstool. + + + NAPOLEON + + Saving always England's-- + Rightly dost say “well-nigh.”--Not England's,--she + Whose tough, enisled, self-centred, kindless craft + Has tracked me, springed me, thumbed me by the throat, + And made herself the means of mangling me! + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + Yea, the dull peoples and the Dynasts both, + Those counter-castes not oft adjustable, + Interests antagonistic, proud and poor, + Have for the nonce been bonded by a wish + To overthrow thee. + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Peace. His loaded heart + Bears weight enough for one bruised, blistered while! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Worthless these kneadings of thy narrow thought, + Napoleon; gone thy opportunity! + Such men as thou, who wade across the world + To make an epoch, bless, confuse, appal, + Are in the elemental ages' chart + Like meanest insects on obscurest leaves, + But incidents and grooves of Earth's unfolding; + Or as the brazen rod that stirs the fire + Because it must. + + [The moon sinks, and darkness blots out NAPOLEON and the scene.] + + + + +AFTER SCENE + + + THE OVERWORLD + + + [Enter the Spirit and Chorus of the Years, the Spirit and Chorus + of the Pities, the Shade of the Earth, the Spirits Sinister and + Ironic with their Choruses, Rumours, Spirit-messengers and + Recording Angels. + + Europe has now sunk netherward to its far-off position as in the + Fore Scene, and it is beheld again as a prone and emaciated figure + of which the Alps form the vertebrae, and the branching mountain- + chains the ribs, the Spanish Peninsula shaping the head of the + ecorche. The lowlands look like a grey-green garment half-thrown + off, and the sea around like a disturbed bed on which the figure + lies.] + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Thus doth the Great Foresightless mechanize + In blank entrancement now as evermore + Its ceaseless artistries in Circumstance + Of curious stuff and braid, as just forthshown. + + Yet but one flimsy riband of Its web + Have we here watched in weaving--web Enorm, + Whose furthest hem and selvage may extend + To where the roars and plashings of the flames + Of earth-invisible suns swell noisily, + And onwards into ghastly gulfs of sky, + Where hideous presences churn through the dark-- + Monsters of magnitude without a shape, + Hanging amid deep wells of nothingness. + + Yet seems this vast and singular confection + Wherein our scenery glints of scantest size, + Inutile all--so far as reasonings tell. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + Thou arguest still the Inadvertent Mind.-- + But, even so, shall blankness be for aye? + Men gained cognition with the flux of time, + And wherefore not the Force informing them, + When far-ranged aions past all fathoming + Shall have swung by, and stand as backward years? + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + What wouldst have hoped and had the Will to be?-- + How wouldst have paeaned It, if what hadst dreamed + Thereof were truth, and all my showings dream? + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + The Will that fed my hope was far from thine, + One I would thus have hymned eternally:-- + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music] + + To Thee whose eye all Nature owns, + Who hurlest Dynasts from their thrones,[26] + And liftest those of low estate + We sing, with Her men consecrate! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Yea, Great and Good, Thee, Thee we hail, + Who shak'st the strong, Who shield'st the frail, + Who hadst not shaped such souls as we + If tendermercy lacked in Thee! + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Though times be when the mortal moan + Seems unascending to Thy throne, + Though seers do not as yet explain + Why Suffering sobs to Thee in vain; + + + SEMICHORUS II + + We hold that Thy unscanted scope + Affords a food for final Hope, + That mild-eyed Prescience ponders nigh + Life's loom, to lull it by-and-by. + + + SEMICHORUS I + + Therefore we quire to highest height + The Wellwiller, the kindly Might + That balances the Vast for weal, + That purges as by wounds to heal. + + + SEMICHORUS II + + The systemed suns the skies enscroll + Obey Thee in their rhythmic roll, + Ride radiantly at Thy command, + Are darkened by Thy Masterhand! + + + SEMICHORUS I + + And these pale panting multitudes + Seen surging here, their moils, their moods, + All shall “fulfil their joy” in Thee + In Thee abide eternally! + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Exultant adoration give + The Alone, through Whom all living live, + The Alone, in Whom all dying die, + Whose means the End shall justify! Amen. + + + SPIRIT OF THE PITIES + + So did we evermore, sublimely sing; + So would we now, despise thy forthshowing! + + + SPIRIT OF THE YEARS + + Something of difference animates your quiring, + O half-convinced Compassionates and fond, + From chords consistent with our spectacle! + You almost charm my long philosophy + Out of my strong-built thought, and bear me back + To when I thanksgave thus.... Ay, start not, Shades; + In the Foregone I knew what dreaming was, + And could let raptures rule! But not so now. + Yea, I psalmed thus and thus.... But not so now. + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + O Immanence, That reasonest not + In putting forth all things begot, + Thou build'st Thy house in space--for what? + + + SEMICHORUS II + + O loveless, Hateless!--past the sense + Of kindly eyed benevolence, + To what tune danceth this Immense? + + + SPIRIT IRONIC + + For one I cannot answer. But I know + 'Tis handsome of our Pities so to sing + The praises of the dreaming, dark, dumb Thing + That turns the handle of this idle show! + + As once a Greek asked I would fain ask too, + Who knows if all the Spectacle be true, + Or an illusion of the gods [the Will, + To wit] some hocus-pocus to fulfil? + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music] + + Last as first the question rings + Of the Will's long travailings; + Why the All-mover, + Why the All-prover + Ever urges on and measure out the chordless chime of Things.[27] + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Heaving dumbly + As we deem, + Moulding numbly + As in dream + Apprehending not how fare the sentient subjects of Its scheme. + + + SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES + + Nay;--shall not Its blindness break? + Yea, must not Its heart awake, + Promptly tending + To Its mending + In a genial germing purpose, and for loving-kindness sake? + + + SEMICHORUS II + + Should it never + Curb or care + Aught whatever + Those endure + Whom It quickens, let them darkle to extinction swift and sure. + + + CHORUS + + But--a stirring thrills the air + Like to sounds of joyance there + That the rages + Of the ages + Shall be cancelled, and deliverance offered from the darts that were, + Consciousness the Will informing, till It fashion all things fair! + + + THE END OF “THE DYNASTS” + + September 25, 1907 + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +[Footnote 1: Schlegel.] + +[Footnote 2: Introduction to the _Choephori_.] + +[Footnote 3: It is now called an Epic-drama, Footnote 1909.] + +[Footnote 4: Through this tangle of intentions the writer has in the main +followed Thiers, whose access to documents would seem to +authenticate his details of the famous scheme for England's ruin.] + +[Footnote 5: These historic facings, which, I believe, won for the local +[Footnote old 39th: regiment the nickname of “Green Linnets,” have been +changed for no apparent reason. Footnote They are now restored--1909] + +[Footnote 6: The remains of the lonely hut occupied by the beacon-keepers, +consisting of some half-buried brickbats, and a little mound +of peat overgrown with moss, are still visible on the elevated +spot referred to. The two keepers themselves, and their +eccentricities and sayings are traditionary, with a slight +disguise of names.] + +[Footnote 7: “Le projet existe encore aux archives de la marine que +Napoleon consultait incessamment; il sentait que cette marine +depuis Louis XIV. avait fait de grandes choses: le plan de +l'Expedition d'Egypte et de la descente en Angleterre se +trouvaient au ministere de la marine.”--CAPEFIGUE: L'Europe +pendant le Consulat et l'Empire.] + +[Footnote 8: This weather-beaten old building, though now an hotel, is but +little altered.] + +[Footnote 9: Soph. Trach. 1266-72.] + +[Footnote 10: This scene is a little antedated, to include it in the Act to +which it essentially belongs.] + +[Footnote 11: “Quel bonhour que je n'aie aucun enfant pour recueillir mon +horrible heritage et qui soit charge du poids de mon nom!”-- +[Footnote Extract from the poignant letter to his wife written on +this night.--See Lanfrey iii. 374.] + +[Footnote 12: In those days the hind-part of the harbour adjoining this scene +was so named, and at high tides the waves washed across the isthmus +at a point called “The Narrows.” + +[Footnote 13: This General's name should, it is said, be pronounced in three +syllables, nearly PRESH-EV-SKY.] + +[Footnote 14: It has been conjectured of late that these adventurous spirits +were Sir Robert Wilson and, possibly, Lord Hutchinson, present +there at imminent risks of their lives.] + +[Footnote 15: The traditional present of the rose was probably on this +occasion, though it is not quite matter of certainty.] + +[Footnote 16: At this date.] + +[Footnote 17: So Madame Metternich to her husband in reporting this interview. +But who shall say!] + +[Footnote 18: The writer has been unable to discover what became of this +unhappy lady and her orphaned infants.--[Footnote The foregoing note, +which appeared in the first edition of this drama, was the +means of bringing from a descendant of the lady referred to +the information she remarried, and lived and died at Venice; +and that both her children grew up and did well.--1909: + +[Footnote 19: Thomas Young of Sturminster-Newton; served twenty-one years in +the Fifteenth [Footnote King's: Hussars; died 1853; fought at Vitoria, and +Waterloo.] + +[Footnote 20: Hussars, it may be remembered, used to wear a pelisse, dolman, or +“sling-jacket” [Footnote as the men called: , which hung loosely over the +shoulder. The writer is able to recall the picturesque effect of +this uniform.] + +[Footnote 21: Sheridan.] + +[Footnote 22: This famous ball has become so embedded in the history of the +Hundred Days as to be an integral part of it. Yet in spite of +the efforts that have been made to locate the room which saw +the memorable gathering [Footnote by the present writer more than thirty +years back, among other enthusiasts: , a dispassionate judgment +must deny that its site has as yet been proven. Even Sir W. +Fraser is not convincing. The event happened less than a century +ago, but the spot is almost as phantasmal in its elusive mystery +as towered Camelot, the palace of Priam, or the hill of Calvary.] + +[Footnote 23: The spelling of the date is used.] + +[Footnote 24: Samuel Clark; born 1779, died 1857. Buried at West Stafford, +Dorset.] + +[Footnote 25: One of the many Waterloo men known to the writer in his youth, +John Bentley of the Fusileer Guards, use to declare that he lay +down on the ground in such weariness that when food was brought +him he could not eat it, and slept till next morning on an empty +stomach. He died at Chelsea Hospital, 187-, aged eighty six.] + +[Footnote 26: Transcriber's note: This footnote is an excerpt in Greek from +the “Magnificat” canticle, the Latin character equivalent being +“katheile DYNASTAS apo THrono,” or “He has put down the mighty +from their thrones.”--D.L.] + +[Footnote 27: Hor. _Epis._ i, 12.] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DYNASTS *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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