by Thomas Hardy
in, and the growling of artillery ceases, though the wheels of the
flying enemy are still heard in the distance. The fires kindled
by the soldiers as they make their bivouacs blaze up in the gloom,
and throw their glares a long way, revealing on the slopes of the
hills many suffering ones who have not yet been carried in.
The last victorious regiment comes up from the rear, fifing and
drumming ere it reaches its resting-place the last bars of "The
Downfall of Paris":—
Transcriber's Note: There follows in musical notation four bars
from that song in 2/4 time, key of C—
\E EF G FE EF G FE EC D DBC \
SCENE IV
A FETE AT VAUXHALL
[It is the Vitoria festival at Vauxhall. The orchestra of the
renowned gardens exhibits a blaze of lamps and candles arranged
in the shape of a temple, a great artificial sun glowing at the
top, and under it in illuminated characters the words "Vitoria"
and "Wellington." The band is playing the new air "The Plains
of Vitoria."
All round the colonnade of the rotunda are to be read in the
illumination the names of Peninsular victories, underneath them
figuring the names of British and Spanish generals who led at
those battles, surmounted by wreaths of laurel The avenues
stretching away from the rotunda into the gardens charm the eyes
with their mild multitudinous lights, while festoons of lamps
hang from the trees elsewhere, and transparencies representing
scenes from the war.
The gardens and saloons are crowded, among those present being the
KING'S sons—the DUKES OF YORK, CLARENCE, KENT, and CAMBRIDGE—
Ambassadors, peers, and peeresses, and other persons of quality,
English and foreign.
In the immediate foreground on the left hand is an alcove, the
interior of which is in comparative obscurity. Two foreign
attaches enter it and sit down.]
FIRST ATTACHE
Ah—now for the fireworks. They are under the direction of Colonel
Congreve.
[At the end of an alley, purposely kept dark, fireworks are
discharged.]
SECOND ATTACHE
Very good: very good.—This looks like the Duke of Sussex coming in,
I think. Who the lady is with him I don't know.
[Enter the DUKE OF SUSSEX in a Highland dress, attended by several
officers in like attire. He walks about the gardens with LADY
CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL.]
FIRST ATTACHE
People have been paying a mighty price for tickets—as much as
fifteen guineas has been offered, I hear. I had to walk up to the
gates; the number of coaches struggling outside prevented my driving
near. It was as bad as the battle of Vitoria itself.
SECOND ATTACHE
So Wellington is made Field-Marshal for his achievement.
FIRST ATTACHE
Yes. By the by, you have heard of the effect of the battle upon
the Conference at Reichenbach?—that Austria is to join Russia and
Prussia against France? So much for Napoleon's marriage! I wonder
what he thinks of his respected father-in-law now.
SECOND ATTACHE
Of course, an enormous subsidy is paid to Francis by Great Britain
for this face-about?
FIRST ATTACHE
Yes. As Bonaparte says, English guineas are at the bottom of
everything!—Ah, here comes Caroline.
[The PRINCESS OF WALES arrives, attended by LADY ANNE HAMILTON
and LADY GLENBERVIE. She is conducted forward by the DUKE OF
GLOUCESTER and COLONEL ST. LEDGER, and wears a white satin train
with a dark embroidered bodice, and a green wreath with diamonds.
Repeated hurrahs greet her from the crowd. She bows courteously.]
SECOND ATTACHE
The people are staunch for her still!... You heard, sir, what
Austrian Francis said when he learnt of Vitoria?—"A warm climate
seems to agree with my son-in-law no better than a cold one."
FIRST ATTACHE
Ha-ha-ha!
Marvellous it is how this loud victory
Has couched the late blind Europe's Cabinets.
Would I could spell precisely what was phrased
'Twixt Bonaparte and Metternich at Dresden—
Their final word, I ween, till God knows when!—
SECOND ATTACHE
I own to feeling it a sorry thing
That Francis should take English money down
To throw off Bonaparte. 'Tis sordid, mean!
He is his daughter's husband after all.
FIRST ATTACHE
Ay; yes!... They say she knows not of it yet.
SECOND ATTACHE
Poor thing, I daresay it will harry her
When all's revealed. But the inside o't is,
Since Castlereagh's return to power last year
Vienna, like Berlin and Petersburg,
Has harboured England's secret emissaries,
Primed, purse in hand, with the most lavish sums
To knit the league to drag Napoleon down....
[More fireworks.] That's grand.—Here comes one Royal item more.
[The DUCHESS OF YORK enters, attended by her ladies and by the
HON. B. CRAVEN and COLONEL BARCLAY. She is received with signals
of respect.]
FIRST ATTACHE
She calls not favour forth as Caroline can!
SECOND ATTACHE
To end my words:—Though happy for this realm,
Austria's desertion frankly is, by God,
Rank treachery!
FIRST ATTACHE
Whatever it is, it means
Two hundred thousand swords for the Allies,
And enemies in batches for Napoleon
Leaping from unknown lairs.—Yes, something tells me
That this is the beginning of the end
For Emperor Bonaparte!
[The PRINCESS OF WALES prepares to leave. An English diplomatist
joins the attaches in the alcove. The PRINCESS and her ladies go
out.]
DIPLOMATIST
I saw you over here, and I came round. Cursed hot and crowded, isn't
it?
SECOND ATTACHE
What is the Princess leaving so soon for?
DIPLOMATIST
Oh, she has not been received in the Royal box by the other members
of the Royal Family, and it has offended her, though she was told
beforehand that she could not be. Poor devil! Nobody invited her
here. She came unasked, and she has gone unserved.
FIRST ATTACHE
We shall have to go unserved likewise, I fancy. The scramble at the
buffets is terrible.
DIPLOMATIST
And the road from here to Marsh Gate is impassable. Some ladies have
been sitting in their coaches for hours outside the hedge there. We
shall not get home till noon to-morrow.
A VOICE [from the back]
Take care of your watches! Pickpockets!
FIRST ATTACHE
Good. That relieves the monotony a little.
[Excitement in the throng. When it has subsided the band strikes
up a country dance, and stewards with white ribbons and laurel
leaves are seen bustling about.]
SECOND ATTACHE
Let us go and look at the dancing. It is "Voulez-vous danser"—no,
it is not,—it is "Enrico"—two ladies between two gentlemen.
[They go from the alc
ove.]
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
From this phantasmagoria let us roam
To the chief wheel and capstan of the show,
Distant afar. I pray you closely read
What I reveal—wherein each feature bulks
In measure with its value humanly.
[The beholder finds himself, as it were, caught up on high, and
while the Vauxhall scene still dimly twinkles below, he gazes
southward towards Central Europe—the contorted and attenuated
ecorche of the Continent appearing as in an earlier scene, but
now obscure under the summer stars.]
Three cities loom out large: Vienna there,
Dresden, which holds Napoleon, over here,
And Leipzig, whither we shall shortly wing,
Out yonderwards. 'Twixt Dresden and Vienna
What thing do you discern?
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
Something broad-faced,
Flat-folded, parchment-pale, and in its shape
Rectangular; but moving like a cloud
The Dresden way.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Yet gaze more closely on it.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
The object takes a letter's lineaments
Though swollen to mainsail measure,—magically,
I gather from your words; and on its face
Are three vast seals, red—signifying blood
Must I suppose? It moves on Dresden town,
And dwarfs the city as it passes by.—
You say Napoleon's there?
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
The document,
Sized to its big importance, as I told,
Bears in it formal declaration, signed,
Of war by Francis with his late-linked son,
The Emperor of France. Now let us go
To Leipzig city, and await the blow.
[A chaotic gloom ensues, accompanied by a rushing like that of a
mighty wind.]
ACT THIRD
SCENE I
LEIPZIG. NAPOLEON'S QUARTERS IN THE REUDNITZ SUBURB
[The sitting-room of a private mansion. Evening. A large stove-
fire and candles burning. The October wind is heard without, and
the leaded panes of the old windows shake mournfully.]
SEMICHORUS I OF IRONIC SPIRITS [aerial music]
We come; and learn as Time's disordered dear sands run
That Castlereagh's diplomacy has wiled, waxed, won.
The beacons flash the fevered news to eyes keen bent
That Austria's formal words of war are shaped, sealed, sent.
SEMICHORUS II
So; Poland's three despoilers primed by Bull's gross pay
To stem Napoleon's might, he waits the weird dark day;
His proffered peace declined with scorn, in fell force then
They front him, with yet ten-score thousand more massed men.
[At the back of the room CAULAINCOURT, DUKE OF VICENZA, and
JOUANNE, one of Napoleon's confidential secretaries, are unpacking
and laying out the Emperor's maps and papers. In the foreground
BERTHIER, MURAT, LAURISTON, and several officers of Napoleon's
suite, are holding a desultory conversation while they await his
entry. Their countenances are overcast.]
MURAT
At least, the scheme of marching on Berlin
Is now abandoned.
LAURISTON
Not without high words:
He yielded and gave order prompt for Leipzig
But coldness and reserve have marked his mood
Towards us ever since.
BERTHIER
The march hereto
He has looked on as a retrogressive one,
And that, he ever holds, is courting woe.
To counsel it was doubtless full of risk,
And heaped us with responsibilities;
—Yet 'twas your missive, sire, that settled it [to MURAT].
How stirred he was! "To Leipzig, or Berlin?"
He kept repeating, as he drew and drew
Fantastic figures on the foolscap sheet,—
"The one spells ruin—t'other spells success,
And which is which?"
MURAT [stiffly]
What better could I do?
So far were the Allies from sheering off
As he supposed, that they had moved in march
Full fanfare hither! I was duty-bound
To let him know.
LAURISTON
Assuming victory here,
If he should let the advantage slip him by
As on the Dresden day, he wrecks us all!
'Twas damnable—to ride back from the fight
Inside a coach, as though we had not won!
CAULAINCOURT [from the back]
The Emperor was ill: I have ground for knowing.
[NAPOLEON enters.]
NAPOLEON [buoyantly]
Comrades, the outlook promises us well!
MURAT [dryly]
Right glad are we you tongue such tidings, sire.
To us the stars have visaged differently;
To wit: we muster outside Leipzig here
Levies one hundred and ninety thousand strong.
The enemy has mustered, OUTSIDE US,
Three hundred and fifty thousand—if not more.
NAPOLEON
All that is needful is to conquer them!
We are concentred here: they lie a-spread,
Which shrinks them to two-hundred-thousand power:—
Though that the urgency of victory
Is absolute, I admit.
MURAT
Yea; otherwise
The issue will be worse than Moscow, sire!
[MARMONT, DUKE OF RAGUSA [Wellington's adversary in Spain], is
announced, and enters.]
NAPOLEON
Ah, Marmont; bring you in particulars?
MARMONT
Some sappers I have taken captive, sire,
Say the Allies will be at stroke with us
The morning next to to-morrow's.—I am come,
Now, from the steeple-top of Liebenthal,
Where I beheld the enemy's fires bespot
The horizon round with raging eyes of flame:—
My vanward posts, too, have been driven in,
And I need succours—thrice ten thousand, say.
NAPOLEON [coldly]
The enemy vexes not your vanward posts;
You are mistaken.—Now, however, go;
Cross Leipzig, and remain as the reserve.—
Well, gentlemen, my hope herein is this:
The first day to annihilate Schwarzenberg,
The second Blucher. So shall we slip the toils
They are all madding to enmesh us in.
BERTHIER
Few are our infantry to fence with theirs!
NAPOLEON [cheerfully]
We'll range them in two lines instead of three,
And so we shall look stronger by one-third.
BERTHIER [incredulously]
Can they be thus deceived, sire?
NAPOLEON
Can they? Yes!
With all my practice I can err in numbers
At least one-quarter; why not they one-third?
Anyhow, 'tis worth trying at a pinch....
[AUGEREAU is suddenly announced.]
Good! I've not seen him yet since he arrived.
[Enter AUGEREAU.
Here you are then at last, old Augereau!
You have been looked for long.—But you are no more
The Augereau of Castiglione days!
AUGEREAU
Nay, sire! I still should be the Augereau
Of glorious Castiglione, could you give
The boys of Italy back again to me!
NAPOLEON
Well, let it drop.... Only I
notice round me
An atmosphere of scopeless apathy
Wherein I do not share.
AUGEREAU
There are reasons, sire,
Good reasons for despondence! As I came
I learnt, past question, that Bavaria
Swerves on the very pivot of desertion.
This adds some threescore thousand to our foes.
NAPOLEON [irritated]
That consummation long has threatened us!...
Would that you showed the steeled fidelity
You used to show! Except me, all are slack!
[To Murat] Why, even you yourself, my brother-in-law,
Have been inclining to abandon me!
MURAT [vehemently]
I, sire? It is not so. I stand and swear
The grievous imputation is untrue.
You should know better than believe these things,
And well remember I have enemies
Who ever wait to slander me to you!
NAPOLEON [more calmly]
Ah yes, yes. That is so.—And yet—and yet
You have deigned to weigh the feasibility
Of treating me as Austria has done!...
But I forgive you. You are a worthy man;
You feel real friendship for me. You are brave.
Yet I was wrong to make a king of you.
If I had been content to draw the line
At vice-king, as with young Eugene, no more,
As he has laboured you'd have laboured, too!
But as full monarch, you have foraged rather
For your own pot than mine!
[MURAT and the marshal are silent, and look at each other with
troubled countenances. NAPOLEON goes to the table at the back, and
bends over the charts with CAULAINCOURT, dictating desultory notes
to the secretaries.]
SPIRIT IRONIC
A seer might say
This savours of a sad Last-Supper talk
'Twixt his disciples and this Christ of war!
[Enter an attendant.]
ATTENDANT
The Saxon King and Queen and the Princess
Enter the city gates, your Majesty.
They seek the shelter of the civic walls
Against the risk of capture by Allies.
NAPOLEON
Ah, so? My friend Augustus, is he near?
I will be prompt to meet him when he comes,
And safely quarter him. [He returns to the map.]
[An interval. The clock strikes midnight. The EMPEROR rises
abruptly, sighs, and comes forward.]
I now retire,
Comrades. Good-night, good-night. Remember well
All must prepare to grip with gory death
In the now voidless battle. It will be
A great one and a critical; one, in brief,
That will seal France's fate, and yours, and mine!
