by Thomas Hardy
foreground, where it is checked by a large river across the track.
The soldiers themselves, like the rabble, are in motley raiment,
some wearing rugs for warmth, some quilts and curtains, some even
petticoats and other women's clothing. Many are delirious from
hunger and cold.
But they set about doing what is a necessity for the least hope of
salvation, and throw a bridge across the stream.
The point of vision descends to earth, close to the scene of action.]
SCENE X
THE BRIDGE OF THE BERESINA
[The bridge is over the Beresina at Studzianka. On each side of
the river are swampy meadows, now hard with frost, while further
back are dense forests. Ice floats down the deep black stream in
large cakes.]
DUMB SHOW
The French sappers are working up to their shoulders in the water at
the building of the bridge. Those so immersed work till, stiffened
with ice to immobility, they die from the chill, when others succeed
them.
Cavalry meanwhile attempt to swim their horses across, and some
infantry try to wade through the stream.
Another bridge is begun hard by, the construction of which advances
with greater speed; and it becomes fit for the passage of carriages
and artillery.
NAPOLEON is seen to come across to the homeward bank, which is the
foreground of the scene. A good portion of the army also, under
DAVOUT, NEY, and OUDINOT, lands by degrees on this side. But
VICTOR'S corps is yet on the left or Moscow side of the stream,
moving toward the bridge, and PARTONNEAUX with the rear-guard, who
has not yet crossed, is at Borissow, some way below, where there is
an old permanent bridge partly broken.
Enter with speed from the distance the Russians under TCHAPLITZ.
More under TCHICHAGOFF enter the scene down the river on the left
or further bank, and cross by the old bridge of Borissow. But they
are too far from the new crossing to intercept the French as yet.
PLATOFF with his Cossacks next appears on the stage which is to be
such a tragic one. He comes from the forest and approaches the left
bank likewise. So also does WITTGENSTEIN, who strikes in between
the uncrossed VICTOR and PARTONNEAUX. PLATOFF thereupon descends
on the latter, who surrenders with the rear-guard; and thus seven
thousand more are cut off from the already emaciated Grand Army.
TCHAPLITZ, of TCHICHAGOFF'S division, has meanwhile got round by the
old bridge at Borissow to the French side of the new one, and attacks
OUDINOT; but he is repulsed with the strength of despair. The French
lose a further five thousand in this.
We now look across the river at VICTOR, and his division, not yet
over, and still defending the new bridges. WITTGENSTEIN descends
upon him; but he holds his ground.
The determined Russians set up a battery of twelve cannon, so as to
command the two new bridges, with the confused crowd of soldiers,
carriages, and baggage, pressing to cross. The battery discharges
into the surging multitude. More Russians come up, and, forming a
semicircle round the bridges and the mass of French, fire yet more
hotly on them with round shot and canister. As it gets dark the
flashes light up the strained faces of the fugitives. Under the
discharge and the weight of traffic, the bridge for the artillery
gives way, and the throngs upon it roll shrieking into the stream
and are drowned.
SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music]
So loudly swell their shrieks as to be heard above the roar of guns
and the wailful wind,
Giving in one brief cry their last wild word on that mock life
through which they have harlequined!
SEMICHORUS II
To the other bridge the living heap betakes itself, the weak pushed
over by the strong;
They loop together by their clutch like snakes; in knots they
are submerged and borne along.
CHORUS
Then women are seen in the waterflow—limply bearing their
infants between wizened white arms stretching above;
Yea, motherhood, sheerly sublime in her last despairing, and
lighting her darkest declension with limitless love.
Meanwhile, TCHICHAGOFF has come up with his twenty-seven thousand men,
and falls on OUDINOT, NEY, and the "Sacred Squadron." Altogether we
see forty or fifty thousand assailing eighteen thousand half-naked,
badly armed wretches, emaciated with hunger and encumbered with
several thousands of sick, wounded, and stragglers.
VICTOR and his rear-guard, who have protected the bridges all day,
come over themselves at last. No sooner have they done so than the
final bridge is set on fire. Those who are upon it burn or drown;
those who are on the further side have lost their last chance, and
perish either in attempting to wade the stream or at the hands of
the Russians.
SEMICHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music]
What will be seen in the morning light?
What will be learnt when the spring breaks bright,
And the frost unlocks to the sun's soft sight?
SEMICHORUS II
Death in a thousand motley forms;
Charred corpses hooking each other's arms
In the sleep that defies all war's alarms!
CHORUS
Pale cysts of souls in every stage,
Still bent to embraces of love or rage,—
Souls passed to where History pens no page.
The flames of the burning bridge go out as it consumes to the water's
edge, and darkness mantles all, nothing continuing but the purl of
the river and the clickings of floating ice.
SCENE XI
THE OPEN COUNTRY BETWEEN SMORGONI AND WILNA
[The winter is more merciless, and snow continues to fall upon a
deserted expanse of unenclosed land in Lithuania. Some scattered
birch bushes merge in a forest in the background.
It is growing dark, though nothing distinguishes where the sun
sets. There is no sound except that of a shuffling of feet in
the direction of a bivouac. Here are gathered tattered men like
skeletons. Their noses and ears are frost-bitten, and pus is
oozing from their eyes.
These stricken shades in a limbo of gloom are among the last
survivors of the French army. Few of them carry arms. One squad,
ploughing through snow above their knees, and with icicles dangling
from their hair that clink like glass-lustres as they walk, go
into the birch wood, and are heard chopping. They bring back
boughs, with which they make a screen on the windward side, and
contrive to light a fire. With their swords they cut rashers from
a dead horse, and grill them in the flames, using gunpowder for
salt to eat them with. Two others return from a search, with a
dead rat and some candle-ends. Their meal shared, some try to
repair their gaping shoes and to tie up their feet, that are
chilblained to the bone.
A straggler enters, who whispers to one or two soldiers of the
group. A shudder runs through them at his words.]
FIRST SOLDIER [dazed]
What—go
ne, do you say? Gone?
STRAGGLER
Yes, I say gone!
He left us at Smorgoni hours ago.
The Sacred Squadron even he has left behind.
By this time he's at Warsaw or beyond,
Full pace for Paris.
SECOND SOLDIER [jumping up wildly]
Gone? How did he go?
No, surely! He could not desert us so!
STRAGGLER
He started in a carriage, with Roustan
The Mameluke on the box: Caulaincourt, too,
Was inside with him. Monton and Duroc
Rode on a sledge behind.—The order bade
That we should not be told it for a while.
[Other soldiers spring up as they realize the news, and stamp
hither and thither, impotent with rage, grief, and despair, many
in their physical weakness sobbing like children.]
SPIRIT SINISTER
Good. It is the selfish and unconscionable characters who are so much
regretted.
STRAGGLER
He felt, or feigned, he ought to leave no longer
A land like Prussia 'twixt himself and home.
There was great need for him to go, he said,
To quiet France, and raise another army
That shall replace our bones.
SEVERAL [distractedly]
Deserted us!
Deserted us!—O, after all our pangs
We shall see France no more!
[Some become insane, and go dancing round. One of them sings.]
MAD SOLDIER'S SONG
I
Ha, for the snow and hoar!
Ho, for our fortune's made!
We can shape our bed without sheets to spread,
And our graves without a spade.
So foolish Life adieu,
And ingrate Leader too.
—Ah, but we loved you true!
Yet—he-he-he! and ho-ho-ho-!—
We'll never return to you.
II
What can we wish for more?
Thanks to the frost and flood
We are grinning crones—thin bags of bones
Who once were flesh and blood.
So foolish Life adieu,
And ingrate Leader too.
—Ah, but we loved you true!
Yet—he-he-he! and ho-ho-ho!—
We'll never return to you.
[Exhausted, they again crouch round the fire. Officers and
privates press together for warmth. Other stragglers arrive, and
sit at the backs of the first. With the progress of the night the
stars come out in unusual brilliancy, Sirius and those in Orion
flashing like stilettos; and the frost stiffens.
The fire sinks and goes out; but the Frenchmen do not move. The
day dawns, and still they sit on.
In the background enter some light horse of the Russian army,
followed by KUTUZOF himself and a few of his staff. He presents
a terrible appearance now—bravely serving though slowly dying,
his face puffed with the intense cold, his one eye staring out as
he sits in a heap in the saddle, his head sunk into his shoulders.
The whole detachment pauses at the sight of the French asleep.
They shout; but the bivouackers give no sign.
KUTUZOF
Go, stir them up! We slay not sleeping men.
[The Russians advance and prod the French with their lances.]
RUSSIAN OFFICER
Prince, here's a curious picture. They are dead.
KUTUZOF [with indifference]
Oh, naturally. After the snow was down
I marked a sharpening of the air last night.
We shall be stumbling on such frost-baked meat
Most of the way to Wilna.
OFFICER [examining the bodies]
They all sit
As they were living still, but stiff as horns;
And even the colour has not left their cheeks,
Whereon the tears remain in strings of ice.—
It was a marvel they were not consumed:
Their clothes are cindered by the fire in front,
While at their back the frost has caked them hard.
KUTUZOF
'Tis well. So perish Russia's enemies!
[Exeunt KUTUZOF, his staff, and the detachment of horse in the
direction of Wilna; and with the advance of day the snow resumes
its fall, slowly burying the dead bivouackers.]
SCENE XII
PARIS. THE TUILERIES
[An antechamber to the EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE'S bedroom, at half-past
eleven on a December night. The DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO and another
lady-in-waiting are discovered talking to the Empress.]
MARIE LOUISE
I have felt unapt for anything to-night,
And I will now retire.
[She goes into her child's room adjoining.]
DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO
For some long while
There has come no letter from the Emperor,
And Paris brims with ghastly rumourings
About the far campaign. Not being beloved,
The town is over dull for her alone.
[Re-enter MARIE LOUISE.]
MARIE LOUISE
The King of Rome is sleeping in his cot
Sweetly and safe. Now, ladies, I am going.
[She withdraws. Her tiring-women pass through into her chamber.
They presently return and go out. A manservant enters, and bars
the window-shutters with numerous bolts. Exit manservant. The
Duchess retires. The other lady-in-waiting rises to go into her
bedroom, which adjoins that of the Empress.
Men's voices are suddenly heard in the corridor without. The lady-
in-waiting pauses with parted lips. The voices grow louder. The
lady-in-waiting screams.
MARIE LOUISE hastily re-enters in a dressing-gown thrown over her
night-clothes.]
MARIE LOUISE
Great God, what altercation can that be?
I had just verged on sleep when it aroused me!
[A thumping is heard at the door.]
VOICE OF NAPOLEON [without]
Hola! Pray let me in! Unlock the door!
LADY-IN-WAITING
Heaven's mercy on us! What man may it be
At such and hour as this?
MARIE LOUISE
O it is he!
[The lady-in-waiting unlocks the door. NAPOLEON enters, scarcely
recognizable, in a fur cloak and hood over his ears. He throws
off the cloak and discloses himself to be in the shabbiest and
muddiest attire. Marie Louise is agitated almost to fainting.]
SPIRIT IRONIC
Is it with fright or joy?
MARIE LOUISE
I scarce believe
What my sight tells me! Home, and in such garb!
[NAPOLEON embraces her.]
NAPOLEON
I have had great work in getting in, my dear!
They failed to recognize me at the gates,
Being sceptical at my poor hackney-coach
And poorer baggage. I had to show my face
In a fierce light ere they would let me pass,
And even then they doubted till I spoke.—
What think you, dear, of such a tramp-like spouse?
[He warms his hands at the fire.]
Ha—it is much more comfortable here
Than on the Russian plains!
MARIE LOUISE [timidly]
You have suffered there?—
Your face is thinner, and has line in it;
No marvel that they did not know you!
NAPOLEON
Yes:
Disasters many and swift have swooped on me!—
Since crossing—ugh!—the Beresina River
I have been compelled to come incognito;
Ay—as a fugitive and outlaw quite.
MARIE LOUISE
We'll thank Heaven, anyhow, that you are safe.
I had gone to bed, and everybody almost!
what, now, do require? Some food of course?
[The child in the adjoining chamber begins to cry, awakened by the
loud tones of NAPOLEON.]
NAPOLEON
Ah—that's his little voice! I'll in and see him.
MARIE LOUISE
I'll come with you.
[NAPOLEON and the EMPRESS pass into the other room. The lady-in-
waiting calls up yawning servants and gives orders. The servants
go to execute them. Re-enter NAPOLEON and MARIE LOUISE. The lady-
in-waiting goes out.]
NAPOLEON
I have said it, dear!
All the disasters summed in the bulletin
Shall be repaired.
MARIE LOUISE
And are they terrible?
NAPOLEON
Have you not read the last-sent bulletin,
Dear friend?
MARIE LOUISE
No recent bulletin has come.
NAPOLEON
Ah—I must have outstripped it on the way!
MARIE LOUISE
And where is the Grand Army?
NAPOLEON
Oh—that's gone.
MARIE LOUISE
Gone? But—gone where?
NAPOLEON
Gone all to nothing, dear.
MARIE LOUISE [incredulously]
But some six hundred thousand I saw pass
Through Dresden Russia-wards?
NAPOLEON [flinging himself into a chair]
Well, those men lie—
Or most of them—in layers of bleaching bones
'Twixt here and Moscow.... I have been subdued;
But by the elements; and them alone.
Not Russia, but God's sky has conquered me!
[With an appalled look she sits beside him.]
From the sublime to the ridiculous
There's but a step!—I have been saying it
All through the leagues of my long journey home—
And that step has been passed in this affair!...
Yes, briefly, it is quite ridiculous,
Whichever way you look at it.—Ha, ha!
MARIE LOUISE [simply]
But those six hundred thousand throbbing throats
That cheered me deaf at Dresden, marching east
So full of youth and spirits—all bleached bones—
Ridiculous? Can it be so, dear, to—
Their mothers say?
NAPOLEON [with a twitch of displeasure]
You scarcely understand.
