The wisdom of a new and hot crusade
For fixing who shall fill the throne of France.
Already are the seeds of mischief sown:
The Declaration at Vienna, signed
Against Napoleon, is, in my regard,
Abhorrent, and our country's character
Defaced by our subscription to its terms!
If words have any meaning it incites
To sheer assassination; it proclaims
That any meeting Bonaparte may slay him;
And, whatso language the Allies now hold,
In that outburst, at least, was war declared.
The noble lord to-night would second it,
Would seem to urge that we full arm, then wait
For just as long, no longer, than would serve
The preparations of the other Powers,
And then - pounce down on France!
CASTLEREAGH
No, no! Not so.
WHITBREAD
Good God, then, what are we to understand? -
However, this denial is a gain,
And my misapprehension owes its birth
Entirely to that mystery of phrase
Which taints all rhetoric of the noble lord,
Well, what is urged for new aggression now,
To vamp up and replace the Bourbon line?
The wittiest man who ever sat here(21) said
That half our nation's debt had been incurred
In efforts to suppress the Bourbon power,
The other half in efforts to restore it, (laughter)
And I must deprecate a further plunge
For ends so futile! Why, since Ministers
Craved peace with Bonaparte at Chatillon,
Should they refuse him peace and quiet now?
This brief amendment therefore I submit
To limit Ministers' aggressiveness
And make self-safety all their chartering:
"We at the same time earnestly implore
That the Prince Regent graciously induce
Strenuous endeavours in the cause of peace,
So long as it be done consistently
With the due honour of the English crown." (Cheers.)
CASTLEREAGH
The arguments of Members opposite
Posit conditions which experience proves
But figments of a dream; - that honesty,
Truth, and good faith in this same Bonaparte
May be assumed and can be acted on:
This of one who is loud to violate
Bonds the most sacred, treaties the most grave! . . .
It follows not that since this realm was won
To treat with Bonaparte at Chatillon,
It can treat now. And as for assassination,
The sentiments outspoken here to-night
Are much more like to urge to desperate deeds
Against the persons of our good Allies,
Than are, against Napoleon, statements signed
By the Vienna plenipotentiaries!
We are, in fine, too fully warranted
On moral grounds to strike at Bonaparte,
If we at any crisis reckon it
Expedient so to do. The Government
Will act throughout in concert with the Allies,
And Ministers are well within their rights
To claim that their responsibility
Be not disturbed by hackneyed forms of speech ("Oh, oh")
Upon war's horrors, and the bliss of peace, -
Which none denies! (Cheers.)
PONSONBY
I ask the noble lord,
If that his meaning and pronouncement be
Immediate war?
CASTLEREAGH
I have not phrased it so.
OPPOSITION CRIES
The question is unanswered!
[There are excited calls, and the House divides. The result is
announced as thirty-seven for WHITBREAD'S amendment, and against
it two hundred and twenty. The clock strikes twelve as the House
adjourns.]
SCENE VI
WESSEX. DURNOVER GREEN, CASTERBRIDGE
[On a patch of green grass on Durnover Hill, in the purlieus of
Casterbridge, a rough gallows has been erected, and an effigy of
Napoleon hung upon it. Under the effigy are faggots of brushwood.
It is the dusk of a spring evening, and a great crowd has gathered,
comprising male and female inhabitants of the Durnover suburb
and villagers from distances of many miles. Also are present
some of the county yeomanry in white leather breeches and scarlet,
volunteers in scarlet with green facings, and the REVEREND MR.
PALMER, vicar of the parish, leaning against the post of his
garden door, and smoking a clay pipe of preternatural length.
Also PRIVATE CANTLE from Egdon Heath, and SOLOMON LONGWAYS of
Casterbridge. The Durnover band, which includes a clarionet,
{serpent,} oboe, tambourine, cymbals, and drum, is playing "Lord
Wellington's Hornpipe."]
RUSTIC (wiping his face)
Says I, please God I'll lose a quarter to zee he burned! And I left
Stourcastle at dree o'clock to a minute. And if I'd known that I
should be too late to zee the beginning on't, I'd have lost a half
to be a bit sooner.
YEOMAN
Oh, you be soon enough good-now. He's just going to be lighted.
RUSTIC
But shall I zee en die? I wanted to zee if he'd die hard,
YEOMAN
Why, you don't suppose that Boney himself is to be burned here?
RUSTIC
What - not Boney that's to be burned?
A WOMAN
Why, bless the poor man, no! This is only a mommet they've made of
him, that's got neither chine nor chitlings. His innerds be only a
lock of straw from Bridle's barton.
LONGWAYS
He's made, neighbour, of a' old cast jacket and breeches from our
barracks here. Likeways Grammer Pawle gave us Cap'n Meggs's old
Zunday shirt that she'd saved for tinder-box linnit; and Keeper
Tricksey of Mellstock emptied his powder-horn into a barm-bladder,
to make his heart wi'.
RUSTIC (vehemently)
Then there's no honesty left in Wessex folk nowadays at all! "Boney's
going to be burned on Durnover Green to-night," - that was what I
thought, to be sure I did, that he'd been catched sailing from his
islant and landed at Budmouth and brought to Casterbridge Jail, the
natural retreat of malefactors! - False deceivers - making me lose a
quarter who can ill afford it; and all for nothing!
LONGWAYS
'Tisn't a mo'sel o' good for thee to cry out against Wessex folk, when
'twas all thy own stunpoll ignorance.
[The VICAR OF DURNOVER removes his pipe and spits perpendicularly.]
VICAR
My dear misguided man, you don't imagine that we should be so inhuman
in this Christian country as to burn a fellow creature alive?
RUSTIC
Faith, I won't say I didn't! Durnover folk have never had the
highest of Christian character, come to that. And I didn't know
but that even a pa'son might backslide to such things in these gory
times - I won't say on a Zunday, but on a week-night like this - when
we think what a blasphemious rascal he is, and that there's not a
more charnel-minded villain towards womenfolk in the whole world.
[The effigy has by this time been kindled, and they watch it burn,
the flames making the faces of the crowd brass-bright, and lighting
the grey tower of Durnover Church hard by.]
WOMAN (singing)
Bayonets and firelocks!
I wouldn't my mammy should know't
But I've been kissed in a sentry-box,
Wrapped up in a soldier's coat!
PRIVATE CANTLE
Talk of backsliding to burn Boney, I can backslide to anything
when my blood is up, or rise to anything, thank God for't! Why,
I shouldn't mind fighting Boney single-handed, if so be I had
the choice o' weapons, and fresh Rainbarrow flints in my flint-box,
and could get at him downhill. Yes, I'm a dangerous hand with a
pistol now and then! . . . Hark, what's that? (A horn is heard
eastward on the London Road.) Ah, here comes the mail. Now we may
learn something. Nothing boldens my nerves like news of slaughter!
[Enter mail-coach and steaming horses. It halts for a minute while
the wheel is skidded and the horses stale.]
SEVERAL
What was the latest news from abroad, guard, when you left
Piccadilly White-Horse-Cellar!
GUARD
You have heard, I suppose, that he's given up to public vengeance,
by Gover'ment orders? Anybody may take his life in any way, fair
or foul, and no questions asked. But Marshal Ney, who was sent to
fight him, flung his arms round his neck and joined him with all
his men. Next, the telegraph from Plymouth sends news landed there
by _The Sparrow_, that he has reached Paris, and King Louis has
fled. But the air got hazy before the telegraph had finished, and
the name of the place he had fled to couldn't be made out.
[The VICAR OF DURNOVER blows a cloud of smoke, and again spits
perpendicularly.]
VICAR
Well, I'm d - - Dear me - dear me! The Lord's will be done.
GUARD
And there are to be four armies sent against him - English, Proosian,
Austrian, and Roosian: the first two under Wellington and Blucher.
And just as we left London a show was opened of Boney on horseback
as large as life, hung up with his head downwards. Admission one
shilling; children half-price. A truly patriot spectacle! - Not that
yours here is bad for a simple country-place.
[The coach drives on down the hill, and the crowd reflectively
watches the burning.]
WOMAN (singing)
I
My Love's gone a-fighting
Where war-trumpets call,
The wrongs o' men righting
Wi' carbine and ball,
And sabre for smiting,
And charger, and all
II
Of whom does he think there
Where war-trumpets call?
To whom does he drink there,
Wi' carbine and ball
On battle's red brink there,
And charger, and all?
III
Her, whose voice he hears humming
Where war-trumpets call,
"I wait, Love, thy coming
Wi' carbine and ball,
And bandsmen a-drumming
Thee, charger and all!"
[The flames reach the powder in the effigy, which is blown to
rags. The band marches off playing "When War's Alarms," the
crowd disperses, the vicar stands musing and smoking at his
garden door till the fire goes out and darkness curtains the
scene.]
ACT SIXTH
SCENE I
THE BELGIAN FRONTIER
[The village of Beaumont stands in the centre foreground of a
birds'-eye prospect across the Belgian frontier from the French
side, being close to the Sambre further back in the scene, which
pursues a crinkled course between high banks from Maubeuge on the
left to Charleroi on the right.
In the shadows that muffle all objects, innumerable bodies of
infantry and cavalry are discerned bivouacking in and around the
village. This mass of men forms the central column of NAPOLEONS'S
army.
The right column is seen at a distance on that hand, also near
the frontier, on the road leading towards Charleroi; and the
left column by Solre-sur-Sambre, where the frontier and the river
nearly coincide
The obscurity thins and the June dawn appears.]
DUMB SHOW
The bivouacs of the central column become broken up, and a movement
ensues rightwards on Charleroi. The twelve regiments of cavalry
which are in advance move off first; in half an hour more bodies
move, and more in the next half-hour, till by eight o'clock the
whole central army is gliding on. It defiles in strands by narrow
tracks through the forest. Riding impatiently on the outskirts of
the columns is MARSHAL NEY, who has as yet received no command.
As the day develops, sight and sounds to the left and right reveal
that the two outside columns have also started, and are creeping
towards the frontier abreast with the centre. That the whole forms
one great movement, co-ordinated by one mind, now becomes apparent.
Preceded by scouts the three columns converge.
The advance through dense woods by narrow paths takes time. The
head of the middles and main column forces back some outposts, and
reaches Charleroi, driving out the Prussian general ZIETEN. It
seizes the bridge over the Sambre and blows up the gates of the
town.
The point of observation now descends close to the scene.
In the midst comes the EMPEROR with the Sappers of the Guard,
the Marines, and the Young Guard. The clatter brings the scared
inhabitants to their doors and windows. Cheers arise from some
of them as NAPOLEON passes up the steep street. Just beyond the
town, in front of the Bellevue Inn, he dismounts. A chair is
brought out, in which he sits and surveys the whole valley of the
Sambre. The troops march past cheering him, and drums roll and
bugles blow. Soon the EMPEROR is found to be asleep.
When the rattle of their passing ceases the silence wakes him. His
listless eye falls upon a half-defaced poster on a wall opposite -
the Declaration of the Allies.
NAPOLEON (reading)
". . . Bonaparte destroys the only legal title on which his existence
depended. . . . He has deprived himself of the protection of the law,
and has manifested to the Universe that there can be neither peace
nor truce with him. The Powers consequently declare that Napoleon
Bonaparte has placed himself without the pale of civil and social
relations, and that as an enemy and disturber of the tranquillity
of the world he has rendered himself liable to public vengeance."
His flesh quivers, and he turns with a start, as if fancying that
some one may be about to stab him in the back. Then he rises,
mounts, and rides on.
Meanwhile the right column crosses the Sambre without difficulty
at Chatelet, a little lower down; the left column at Marchienne a
little higher up; and the three limbs combine into one vast army.
As the curtain of the mist is falling, the point of vision soars
again, and there is afforded a brief glimpse of what is doing far
away on the other side. From all parts of Europe long and sinister
black files are crawling hitherward in serpentine lines, like
slowworms through grass. They are the advancing armies of the
Allies. The Dumb Show ends.
SCENE II
A BALLROOM IN BRUSSELS(22)
[It is a June midnight at the DUKE AND DUCHESS OF RICHMOND'S. A
band of stringed instruments shows in the background. The room
is crowded with a brilliant assemblage of more than two hundred
of the distinguished people sojourning in the city on account of
the war and other reasons, and of local personages of State and
fashion. The ball has opened with "The White Cockade."
Among those discovered present either dancing or looking on are
the DUKE and DUCHESS as host and hostess, their son and eldest
daughter, the Duchess's brother, the DUKE OF WELLINGTON, the
PRINCE OF ORANGE, the DUKE OF BRUNSWICK, BARON VAN CAPELLEN the
Belgian Secretary of State, the DUKE OF ARENBERG, the MAYOR OF
BRUSSELS, the DUKE AND DUCHESS OF BEAUFORT, GENERAL ALAVA, GENERAL
OUDENARDE, LORD HILL, LORD AND LADY CONYNGHAM, SIR HENRY AND LADY
SUSAN CLINTON, SIR H. AND LADY HAMILTON DALRYMPLE, SIR WILLIAM AND
LADY DE LANCEY, LORD UXBRIDGE, SIR JOHN BYNG, LORD PORTARLINGTON,
LORD EDWARD SOMERSET, LORD HAY, COLONEL ABERCROMBY, SIR HUSSEY
VIVIAN, SIR A. GORDON, SIR W. PONSONBY, SIR DENIS PACK, SIR JAMES
KEMPT, SIR THOMAS PICTON, GENERAL MAITLAND, COLONEL CAMERON, many
other officers, English, Hanoverian, Dutch and Belgian ladies
English and foreign, and Scotch reel-dancers from Highland
regiments.
The "Hungarian Waltz" having also been danced, the hostess calls
up the Highland soldiers to show the foreign guests what a Scotch
reel is like. The men put their hands on their hips and tread it
out briskly. While they stand aside and rest "The Hanoverian
Dance" is called.
Enter LIEUTENANT WEBSTER, A.D.C. to the PRINCE OF ORANGE. The
Prince goes apart with him and receives a dispatch. After reading
it he speaks to WELLINGTON, and the two, accompanied by the DUKE
OF RICHMOND, retire into an alcove with serious faces. WEBSTER,
in passing back across the ballroom, exchanges a hasty word with
two of three of the guests known to him, a young officer among
them, and goes out.
YOUNG OFFICER (to partner)
The French have passed the Sambre at Charleroi!
PARTNER
What - does it mean the Bonaparte indeed
Is bearing down upon us?
YOUNG OFFICER
That is so.
The one who spoke to me in passing out
Is Aide to the Prince of Orange, bringing him
Dispatches from Rebecque, his chief of Staff,
Now at the front, not far from Braine le Comte;
He says that Ney, leading the French van-guard,
Has burst on Quatre-Bras.
PARTNER
O horrid time!
Will you, then, have to go and face him there?
YOUNG OFFICER
I shall, of course, sweet. Promptly too, no doubt.
(He gazes about the room.)
See - the news spreads; the dance is paralyzed.
They are all whispering round. (The band stops.) Here comes
one more,
He's the attache from the Prussian force
At our headquarters.
[Enter GENERAL MUFFLING. He looks prepossessed, and goes straight
to WELLINGTON and RICHMOND in the alcove, who by this time have
been joined by the DUKE OF BRUNSWICK.]
SEVERAL GUESTS (at back of room)
Yes, you see, it's true!
The army will prepare to march at once.
PICTON (to another general)
I am damn glad we are to be off. Pottering about her pinned to
petticoat tails - it does one no good, but blasted harm!
ANOTHER GUEST
The ball cannot go on, can it? Didn't the Duke know the French
were so near? If he did, how could he let us run risks so coolly?
LADY HAMILTON DALRYMPLE (to partner)
A deep concern weights those responsible
Who gather in the alcove. Wellington
Affects a cheerfulness in outward port,
But cannot rout his real anxiety!
[The DUCHESS OF RICHMOND goes to her husband.]
DUCHESS
Ought I to stop the ball? It hardly seems right to let it continue
if all be true.
RICHMOND
I have put that very question to Wellington, my dear. He says that
we need not hurry off the guests. The men have to assemble some
time before the officers, who can stay on here a little longer
without inconvenience; and he would prefer that they should, not to
create a panic in the city, where the friends and spies of Napoleon
are all agog for some such thing, which they would instantly
communicate to him to take advantage of.
DUCHESS
Is it safe to stay on? Should we not be thinking about getting the
children away?
RICHMOND
There's no hurry at all, even if Bonaparte were really sure to
enter. But he's never going to set foot in Brussels - don't you
imagine it for a moment.
DUCHESS (anxiously)
I hope not. But I wish we had never brought them here!
RICHMOND
It is too late, my dear, to wish that now. Don't be flurried; make
the people go on dancing.
[The DUCHESS returns to her guests. The DUKE rejoins WELLINGTON,
BRUNSWICK, MUFFLING, and the PRINCE OF ORANGE in the alcove.]
WELLINGTON
We need not be astride till five o'clock
If all the men are marshalled well ahead.
The Brussels citizens must not suppose
They stand in serious peril. . . He, I think,
Directs his main attack mistakenly;
It should gave been through Mons, not Charleroi.
MUFFLING
The Austrian armies, and the Russian too,
Will show nowhere in this. The thing that's done,
Be it a historied feat or nine days' fizz,
Will be done long before they join us here.
WELLINGTON
Yes, faith; and 'tis pity. But, by God,
Blucher, I think, and I can make a shift
To do the business without troubling 'em!
Though I've an infamous army, that's the truth, -
Weak, and but ill-equipped, - and what's as bad,
A damned unpractised staff!
MUFFLING
We'll hope for luck.
Blucher concentrates certainly by now
Near Ligny, as he says in his dispatch.
Your Grace, I glean, will mass at Quatre-Bras?
WELLINGTON
Ay, now we are sure this move on Charleroi
Is no mere feint. Though I had meant Nivelles.
Have ye a good map, Richmond, near at hand?
RICHMOND
In the next room there's one. (Exit RICHMOND.)
[WELLINGTON calls up various general officers and aides from
other parts of the room. PICTON, UXBRIDGE, HILL, CLINTON, VIVIAN,
MAITLAND, PONSONBY, SOMERSET, and others join him in succession,
receive orders, and go out severally.]
PRINCE OF ORANGE
As my divisions seem to lie around
The probable point of impact, it behoves me
To start at once, Duke, for Genappe, I deem?
Being in Brussels, all for this damned ball,
The dispositions out there have, so far,
Been made by young Saxe Weimar and Perponcher,
On their own judgment quite. I go, your Grace?
WELLINGTON
Yes, certainly. 'Tis now desirable.
Farewell! Good luck, until we meet again,
The battle won!
[Exit PRINCE OF ORANGE, and shortly after, MUFFLING. RICHMOND
returns with a map, which he spreads out on the table. WELLINGTON
scans it closely.]
Napoleon has befooled me,
By God he has, - gained four-and-twenty hours'
Good march upon me!
RICHMOND
What do you mean to do?
WELLINGTON
I have bidden the army concentrate in strength
At Quatre-Bras. But we shan't stop him there;
So I must fight him HERE. (He marks Waterloo with his thumbnail.)
Well, now I have sped,
All necessary orders I may sup,
And then must say good-bye. (To Brunswick.) This very day
There will be fighting, Duke. You are fit to start?
BRUNSWICK (coming forward)
I leave almost this moment. - Yes, your Grace -
And I sheath not my sword till I have avenged
My father's death. I have sworn it!
WELLINGTON
My good friend,
Something too solemn knells beneath your words.
Take cheerful views of the affair in hand,
And fall to't with _sang froid_!
BRUNSWICK
But I have sworn!
Adieu. The rendezvous is Quatre-Bras?
WELLINGTON
Just so. The order is unchanged. Adieu;
But only till a later hour to-day;
I see it is one o'clock.
[WELLINGTON and RICHMOND go out of the alcove and join the
hostess, BRUNSWICK'S black figure being left there alone. He
bends over the map for a few seconds.]
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
O Brunswick, Duke of Deathwounds! Even as he
For whom thou wear'st that filial weedery
Was waylaid by my tipstaff nine years since,
So thou this day shalt feel his fendless tap,
And join thy sire!
BRUNSWICK (starting up)
I am stirred by inner words,
As 'twere my father's angel calling me, -
That prelude to our death my lineage know!
[He stands in a reverie for a moment; then, bidding adieu to the
DUCHESS OF RICHMOND and her daughter, goes slowly out of the
ballroom by a side-door.]
DUCHESS
The Duke of Brunswick bore him gravely here.
His sable shape has stuck me all the eve
As one of those romantic presences
We hear of - seldom see.
WELLINGTON (phlegmatically)
Romantic, - well,
It may be so. Times often, ever since
The Late Duke's death, his mood has tinged him thus.
He is of those brave men who danger see,
And seeing front it, - not of those, less brave
But counted more, who face it sightlessly.
YOUNG OFFICER (to partner)
The Generals slip away! I, Love, must take
The cobbled highway soon. Some hours ago
The French seized Charleroi; so they loom nigh.
PARTNER (uneasily)
Which tells me that the hour you draw your sword
Looms nigh us likewise!
YOUNG OFFICER
Some are saying here
We fight this very day. Rumours all-shaped
Fly round like cockchafers!
[Suddenly there echoes in the ballroom a long-drawn metallic purl
of sound, making all the company start.]
Transcriber's Note: There follows in musical notation five measures
for side-drum.
Ah - there it is,
Just as I thought! They are beating the Generale.
[The loud roll of side-drums is taken up by other drums further
and further away, till the hollow noise spreads all over the city.
Dismay is written on the faces of the women. The Highland non-
commissioned officers and privates march smartly down the ballroom
and disappear.]
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
Discerned you stepping out in front of them
That figure - of a pale drum-major kind,
Or fugleman - who wore a cold grimace?
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
He was my old fiend Death, in rarest trim,
The occasion favouring his husbandry!
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
Are those who marched behind him, then, to fall?
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Ay, all well-nigh, ere Time have houred three-score.
PARTNER
Surely this cruel call to instant war
Spares space for one dance more, that memory
May store when you are gone, while I - sad me! -
Wait, wait and weep. . . . Yes - one there is to be!
SPIRIT IRONIC
Methinks flirtation grows too tender here!
[Country Dance, "The Prime of Life," a favourite figure at this
period. The sense of looming tragedy carries emotion to its
climax. All the younger officers stand up with their partners,
forming several figures of fifteen or twenty couples each. The
air is ecstasizing, and both sexes abandon themselves to the
movement.
Nearly half an hour passes before the figure is danced down.
Smothered kisses follow the conclusion. The silence is broken
from without by more long hollow rolling notes, so near that
they thrill the window-panes.]
SEVERAL
'Tis the Assemble. Now, then, we must go!
[The officers bid farewell to their partners and begin leaving
in twos and threes. When they are gone the women mope and murmur
to each other by the wall, and listen to the tramp of men and
slamming of doors in the streets without.]
LADY HAMILTON DALRYMPLE
The Duke has borne him gaily here to-night.
The youngest spirits scarcely capped his own.
DALRYMPLE
Maybe that, finding himself blade to blade
With Bonaparte at last, his blood gets quick.
French lancers of the Guard were seen at Frasnes
Last midnight; so the clash is not far off.
[They leave.]
DE LANCEY (to his wife)
I take you to our door, and say good-bye,
And go thence to the Duke's and wait for him.
In a few hours we shall be all in motion
Towards the scene of - what we cannot tell!
You, dear, will haste to Antwerp till it's past,
As we have arranged.
[They leave.]
WELLINGTON (to Richmond)
Now I must also go,
And snatch a little snooze ere harnessing.
The Prince and Brunswick have been gone some while.
[RICHMOND walks to the door with him. Exit WELLINGTON, RICHMOND
returns.]
DUCHESS (to Richmond)
Some of these left renew the dance, you see.
I cannot stop them; but with memory hot
Of those late gone, of where they are gone, and why,
It smacks of heartlessness!
RICHMOND
Let be; let be;
Youth comes not twice to fleet mortality!
[The dancing, however, is fitful and spiritless, few but civilian
partners being left for the ladies. Many of the latter prefer to
sit in reverie while waiting for their carriages.]
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
When those stout men-at-arms drew forward there,
I saw a like grimacing shadow march
And pirouette before no few of them.
Some of themselves beheld it; some did not.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Which were so ushered?
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
Brunswick, who saw and knew;
One also moved before Sir Thomas Picton,
Who coolly conned and drily spoke to it;
Another danced in front of Ponsonby,
Who failed of heeding his. - De Lancey, Hay,
Gordon, and Cameron, and many more
Were footmanned by like phantoms from the ball.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Multiplied shimmerings of my Protean friend,
Who means to couch them shortly. Thou wilt eye
Many fantastic moulds of him ere long,
Such as, bethink thee, oft hast eyed before.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
I have - too often!
[The attenuated dance dies out, the remaining guests depart, the
musicians leave the gallery and depart also. RICHMOND goes to
a window and pulls back one of the curtains. Dawn is barely
visible in the sky, and the lamps indistinctly reveal that long
lines of British infantry have assembled in the street. In the
irksomeness of waiting for their officers with marching-orders,
they have lain down on the pavements, where many are soundly
sleeping, their heads on their knapsacks and their arms by their
side.]
DUCHESS
Poor men. Sleep waylays them. How tired they seem!
RICHMOND
They'll be more tired before the day is done.
A march of eighteen miles beneath the heat,
And then to fight a battle ere they rest,
Is what foreshades. - Well, it is more than bed-time;
But little sleep for us or any one
To-night in Brussels!
[He draws the window-curtain and goes out with the DUCHESS.
Servants enter and extinguish candles. The scene closes in
darkness.]
SCENE III
CHARLEROI. NAPOLEON'S QUARTERS
[The same midnight. NAPOLEON is lying on a bed in his clothes.
In consultation with SOULT, his Chief of Staff, who is sitting
near, he dictates to his Secretary orders for the morrow. They
are addressed to KELLERMANN, DROUOT, LOBAU, GERARD, and other
of his marshals. SOULT goes out to dispatch them.
The Secretary resumes the reading of reports. Presently MARSHAL
NEY is announced He is heard stumbling up the stairs, and enters.]
NAPOLEON
Ah, Ney; why come you back? Have you secured
The all-important Crossways? - safely sconced
Yourself at Quatre-Bras?
NEY
Not, sire, as yet.
For, marching forwards, I heard gunnery boom,
And, fearing that the Prussians had engaged you,
I stood at pause. Just then - -
NAPOLEON
My charge was this:
Make it impossible at any cost
That Wellington and Blucher should unite.
As it's from Brussels that the English come,
And from Namur the Prussians, Quatre-Bras
Lends it alone for their forgathering:
So, why exists it not in your hands/
NEY
My reason, sire, was rolling from my tongue. -
Hard on the boom of guns, dim files of foot
Which read to me like massing Englishry -
The vanguard of all Wellington's array -
I half-discerned. So, in pure wariness,
I left the Bachelu columns there at Frasnes,
And hastened back to tell you.
NAPOLEON
Ney; O Ney!
I fear you are not the man that once you were;
Of your so daring, such a faint-heart now!
I have ground to know the foot that flustered you
Were but a few stray groups of Netherlanders;
For my good spies in Brussels send me cue
That up to now the English have not stirred,
But cloy themselves with nightly revel there.
NEY (bitterly)
Give me another opportunity
Before you speak like that!
NAPOLEON
You soon will have one! . . .
But now - no more of this. I have other glooms
Upon my soul - the much-disquieting news
That Bourmont has deserted to our foes
With his whole staff.
NEY
We can afford to let him.
NAPOLEON
It is what such betokens, not their worth,
That whets it! . . . Love, respect for me, have waned;
But I will right that. We've good chances still.
You must return foot-hot to Quatre-Bras;
There Kellermann's cuirassiers will promptly join you
To bear the English backward Brussels way.
I go on towards Fleurus and Ligny now. -
If Blucher's force retreat, and Wellington's
Lie somnolent in Brussels one day more,
I gain that city sans a single shot! . . .
Now, friend, downstairs you'll find some supper ready,
Which you must tuck in sharply, and then off.
The past day has not ill-advantaged us;
We have stolen upon the two chiefs unawares,
And in such sites that they must fight apart.
Now for a two hours' rest. - Comrade, adieu
Until to-morrow!
NEY
Till to-morrow, sire!
[Exit NEY. NAPOLEON falls asleep, and the Secretary waits till
dictation shall be resumed. BUSSY, the orderly officer, comes
to the door.
BUSSY
Letters - arrived from Paris. (Hands letters.)
SECRETARY
He shall have them
The moment he awakes. These eighteen hours
He's been astride; and is not what he was. -
Much news from Paris?
BUSSY
I can only say
What's not the news. The courier has just told me
He'd nothing from the Empress at Vienna
To bring his Majesty. She writes no more.
SECRETARY
And never will again! In my regard
That bird's forsook the nest for good and all.
BUSSY
All that they hear in Paris from her court
Is through our spies there. One of them reports
This rumour of her: that the Archduke John,
In taking leave to join our enemies here,
Said, "Oh, my poor Louise; I am grieved for you
And what I hope is, that he'll be run through,
Or shot, or break his neck, for your own good
No less than ours.
NAPOLEON (waking)
By "he" denoting me?
BUSSY (starting)
Just so, your Majesty.
NAPOLEON (peremptorily)
What said the Empress?
BUSSY
She gave no answer, sire, that rumour bears.
NAPOLEON
Count Neipperg, whom they have made her chamberlain,
Interred his wife last spring - is it not so?
BUSSY
He did, your Majesty.
NAPOLEON
H'm. . . .You may go.
[Exit BUSSY. The Secretary reads letters aloud in succession.
He comes to the last; begins it; reaches a phrase, and stops
abruptly.]
Mind not! Read on. No doubt the usual threat,
Or prophecy, from some mad scribe? Who signs it?
SECRETARY
The subscript is "The Duke of Enghien!"
NAPOLEON (starting up)
Bah, man! A treacherous trick! A hoax - no more!
Is that the last?
SECRETARY
The last, your Majesty.
NAPOLEON
Then now I'll sleep. In two hours have me called.
SECRETARY
I'll give the order, sire.
[The Secretary goes. The candles are removed, except one, and
NAPOLEON endeavours to compose himself.]
SPIRIT IRONIC
A little moral panorama would do him no harm, after that reminder of
the Duke of Enghien. Shall it be, young Compassion?
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
What good - if that old Years tells us be true?
But I say naught. To ordain is not for me!
[Thereupon a vision passes before NAPOLEON as he lies, comprising
hundreds of thousands of skeletons and corpses in various stages
of decay. They rise from his various battlefields, the flesh
dropping from them, and gaze reproachfully at him. His intimate
officers who have been slain he recognizes among the crowd. In
front is the DUKE OF ENGHIEN as showman.]
NAPOLEON (in his sleep)
Why, why should this reproach be dealt me now?
Why hold me my own master, if I be
Ruled by the pitiless Planet of Destiny?
[He jumps up in a sweat and puts out the last candle; and the
scene is curtained by darkness.]
SCENE IV
A CHAMBER OVERLOOKING A MAIN STREET IN BRUSSELS
[A June sunrise; the beams struggling through the window-curtains.
A canopied bed in a recess on the left. The quick notes of
"Brighton Camp, or the "Girl I've left behind me," strike sharply
into the room from fifes and drums without. A young lady in a
dressing-gown, who has evidently been awaiting the sound, springs
from the bed like a hare from its form, undraws window-curtains
and opens the window.
Columns of British soldiery are marching past from the Parc
southward out of the city by the Namur Gate. The windows of
other houses in the street rattle open, and become full of
gazers.
A tap at the door. An older lady enters, and comes up to the
first.]
YOUNGER LADY (turning)
O mamma - I didn't hear you!
ELDER LADY
I was sound asleep till the thumping of the drums set me fantastically
dreaming, and when I awoke I found they were real. Did they wake you
too, my dear?
Younger Lady (reluctantly)
I didn't require waking. I hadn't slept since we came home.
ELDER LADY
That was from the excitement of the ball. There are dark rings round
your eye. (The fifes and drums are now opposite, and thrill the air
in the room.) Ah - that "Girl I've left behind me!" - which so many
thousands of women have throbbed an accompaniment to, and will again
to-day if ever they did!
YOUNGER LADY (her voice faltering)
It is rather cruel to say that just now, mamma. There, I can't look
at them after it! (She turns and wipes her eyes.)
ELDER LADY
I wasn't thinking of ourselves - certainly not of you. - How they
press on - with those great knapsacks and firelocks and, I am told,
fifty-six rounds of ball-cartridge, and four days' provisions in
those haversacks. How can they carry it all near twenty miles and
fight with it on their shoulders! . . . Don't cry, dear. I thought
you would get sentimental last night over somebody. I ought to
have brought you home sooner. How many dances did you have? It
was impossible for me to look after you in the excitement of the
war-tidings.
YOUNGER LADY
Only three - four.
ELDER LADY
Which were they?
YOUNGER LADY
"Enrico," the "Copenhagen Waltz" and the "Hanoverian," and the
"Prime of Life."
ELDER LADY
It was very foolish to fall in love on the strength of four dances.
YOUNGER LADY (evasively)
Fall in love? Who said I had fallen in love? What a funny idea!
ELDER LADY
Is it? . . . Now here come the Highland Brigade with their pipes
and their "Hieland Laddie." How the sweethearts cling to the men's
arms. (Reaching forward.) There are more regiments following.
But look, that gentleman opposite knows us. I cannot remember his
name. (She bows and calls across.) Sir, which are these?
GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE
The Ninety-second. Next come the Forty-ninth, and next the Forty-
second - Sir Denis Pack's brigade.
ELDER LADY
Thank you. - I think it is that gentleman we talked to at the
Duchess's, but I am not sure. (A pause: another band.)
GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE
That's the Twenty-eighth. (They pass, with their band and colours.)
Now the Thirty-second are coming up - part of Kempt's brigade. Endless,
are they not?
ELDER LADY
Yes, Sir. Has the Duke passed out yet?
GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE
Not yet. Some cavalry will go by first, I think. The foot coming
up now are the Seventy-ninth. (They pass.) . . . These next are
the Ninety-fifth. (They pass.) . . . These are the First Foot-
guards now. (They pass, playing "British Grenadiers.") . . . The
Fusileer-guards now. (They pass.) Now the Coldstreamers. (They
pass. He looks up towards the Parc.) Several Hanoverian regiments
under Colonel Best are coming next. (They pass, with their bands
and colours. An interval.)
ELDER LADY (to daughter)
Here are the hussars. How much more they carry to battle than at
reviews. The hay in those great nets must encumber them. (She
turns and sees that her daughter has become pale.) Ah, now I know!
HE has just gone by. You exchanged signals with him, you wicked
girl! How do you know what his character is, or if he'll ever come
back?
[The younger lady goes and flings herself on her face upon the
bed, sobbing silently. Her mother glances at her, but leaves
her alone. An interval. The prancing of a group of horsemen
is heard on the cobble-stones without.]
GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE (calling)
Here comes the Duke!
ELDER LADY (to younger)
You have left the window at the most important time! The Duke of
Wellington and his staff-officers are passing out.
YOUNGER LADY
I don't want to see him. I don't want to see anything any more!
[Riding down the street comes WELLINGTON in a grey frock-coat and
small cocked hat, frigid and undemonstrative; accompanied by four
or five Generals of his suite, the Deputy Quartermaster-general
De LANCEY, LORD FITZROY SOMERSET, Aide-de-camp, and GENERAL
MUFFLING.]
GENTLEMAN OPPOSITE
He is the Prussian officer attached to our headquarters, through whom
Wellington communicates with Blucher, who, they say, is threatened by