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.]