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!
'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!