Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated)

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by Thomas Hardy

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.

  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, bu
t 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!
r />   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!

 

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