Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated)

Home > Fiction > Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) > Page 827
Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) Page 827

by Thomas Hardy

BERESFORD now becomes aware of this project on his flank, and sends

  orders to throw back his right to face the attack. The order is not

  obeyed. Almost at the same moment the French rush is made, the

  Spanish and Portuguese allies of the English are beaten beck, and

  the hill is won. But two English divisions bear from the centre of

  their front, and plod desperately up the hill to retake it.

  SPIRIT SINISTER

  Now he among us who may wish to be

  A skilled practitioner in slaughtery,

  Should watch this hour's fruition yonder there,

  And he will know, if knowing ever were,

  How mortals may be freed their fleshly cells,

  And quaint red doors set ope in sweating fells,

  By methods swift and slow and foul and fair!

  The English, who have plunged up the hill, are caught in a heavy

  mist, that hides from them an advance in their rear of the lancers

  and hussars of the enemy. The lines of the Buffs, the Sixty-sixth,

  and those of the Forty-eighth, who were with them, in a chaos of

  smoke, steel, sweat, curses, and blood, are beheld melting down

  like wax from an erect position to confused heaps. Their forms

  lie rigid, or twitch and turn, as they are trampled over by the

  hoofs of the enemy's horse. Those that have not fallen are taken.

  SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

  It works as you, uncanny Phantom, wist!...

  Whose is that towering form

  That tears across the mist

  To where the shocks are sorest?—his with arm

  Outstretched, and grimy face, and bloodshot eye,

  Like one who, having done his deeds, will die?

  SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

  He is one Beresford, who heads the fight

  For England here to-day.

  SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

  He calls the sight

  Despite itself!—parries yon lancer's thrust,

  And with his own sword renders dust to dust!

  The ghastly climax of the strife is reached; the combatants are

  seen to be firing grape and canister at speaking distance, and

  discharging musketry in each other's faces when so close that

  their complexions may be recognized. Hot corpses, their mouths

  blackened by cartridge-biting, and surrounded by cast-away

  knapsacks, firelocks, hats, stocks, flint-boxes, and priming

  horns, together with red and blue rags of clothing, gaiters,

  epaulettes, limbs and viscera accumulate on the slopes, increasing

  from twos and threes to half-dozens, and from half-dozens to heaps,

  which steam with their own warmth as the spring rain falls gently

  upon them.

  The critical instant has come, and the English break. But a

  comparatively fresh division, with fusileers, is brought into the

  turmoil by HARDINGE and COLE, and these make one last strain to

  save the day, and their names and lives. The fusileers mount the

  incline, and issuing from the smoke and mist startle the enemy by

  their arrival on a spot deemed won.

  SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music]

  They come, beset by riddling hail;

  They sway like sedges is a gale;

  The fail, and win, and win, and fail. Albuera!

  SEMICHORUS II

  They gain the ground there, yard by yard,

  Their brows and hair and lashes charred,

  Their blackened teeth set firm and hard.

  SEMICHORUS I

  Their mad assailants rave and reel,

  And face, as men who scorn to feel,

  The close-lined, three-edged prongs of steel.

  SEMICHORUS II

  Till faintness follows closing-in,

  When, faltering headlong down, they spin

  Like leaves. But those pay well who win Albuera.

  SEMICHORUS I

  Out of six thousand souls that sware

  To hold the mount, or pass elsewhere,

  But eighteen hundred muster there.

  SEMICHORUS II

  Pale Colonels, Captains, ranksmen lie,

  Facing the earth or facing sky;—

  They strove to live, they stretch to die.

  SEMICHORUS I

  Friends, foemen, mingle; heap and heap.—

  Hide their hacked bones, Earth!—deep, deep, deep,

  Where harmless worms caress and creep.

  CHORUS

  Hide their hacked bones, Earth!—deep, deep, deep,

  Where harmless worms caress and creep.—

  What man can grieve? what woman weep?

  Better than waking is to sleep! Albuera!

  The night comes on, and darkness covers the battle-field.

  SCENE V

  WINDSOR CASTLE. A ROOM IN THE KING'S APARTMENT

  [The walls of the room are padded, and also the articles of

  furniture, the stuffing being overlaid with satin and velvet, on

  which are worked in gold thread monograms and crowns. The windows

  are guarded, and the floor covered with thick cork, carpeted. The

  time is shortly after the last scene.

  The KING is seated by a window, and two of Dr. WILLIS'S attendants

  are in the room. His MAJESTY is now seventy-two; his sight is

  very defective, but he does not look ill. He appears to be lost

  in melancholy thought, and talks to himself reproachfully, hurried

  manner on occasion being the only irregular symptom that he

  betrays.]

  KING

  In my lifetime I did not look after her enough—enough—enough!

  And now she is lost to me, and I shall never see her more. Had I

  but known, had I but thought of it! Gentlemen, when did I lose the

  Princess Amelia?

  FIRST ATTENDANT

  The second of last November, your Majesty.

  KING

  And what is it now?

  FIRST ATTENDANT

  Now, sir, it is the beginning of June.

  KING

  Ah, June, I remember!... The June flowers are not for me. I

  shall never see them; nor will she. So fond of them as she was.

  ... Even if I were living I would never go where there are flowers

  any more! No: I would go to the bleak, barren places that she never

  would walk in, and never knew, so that nothing might remind me of

  her, and make my heart ache more than I can bear!... Why, the

  beginning of June?—that's when they are coming to examine me! [He

  grows excited.]

  FIRST ATTENDANT [to second attendant, aside]

  Dr. Reynolds ought not have reminded him of their visit. It only

  disquiets him and makes him less fit to see them.

  KING

  How long have I been confined here?

  FIRST ATTENDANT

  Since November, sir; for your health's sake entirely, as your Majesty

  knows.

  KING

  What, what? So long? Ah, yes. I must bear it. This is the fourth

  great black gulf in my poor life, is it not? The fourth.

  [A signal from the door. The second attendant opens it and whispers.

  Enter softly SIR HENRY HALFORD, DR. WILLIAM HEBERDEN, DR. ROBERT

  WILLIS, DR. MATTHEW BAILLIE, the KING'S APOTHECARY, and one or two

  other gentlemen.]

  KING [straining his eye to discern them]

  What! Are they come? What will they do to me? How dare they! I

  am Elector of Hanover! [Finding Dr. Willis is among them he shrieks.]

  O, they are going to bleed me—yes, to bleed me! [Piteously.] My

  friends, don't bleed me—pray don't! It makes me so
weak to take my

  blood. And the leeches do, too, when you put so many. You will not

  be so unkind, I am sure!

  WILLIS [to Baillie]

  It is extraordinary what a vast aversion he has to bleeding—that

  most salutary remedy, fearlessly practised. He submits to leeches

  as yet but I won't say that he will for long without being strait-

  jacketed.

  KING [catching some of the words]

  You will strait-jacket me? O no, no!

  WILLIS

  Leeches are not effective, really. Dr. Home, when I mentioned it to

  him yesterday, said he would bleed him till he fainted if he had

  charge of him!

  KING

  O will you do it, sir, against my will,

  And put me, once your king, in needless pain?

  I do assure you truly, my good friends,

  That I have done no harm! In sunnier years

  Ere I was throneless, withered to a shade,

  Deprived of my divine authority—

  When I was hale, and ruled the English land—

  I ever did my utmost to promote

  The welfare of my people, body and soul!

  Right many a morn and night I have prayed and mused

  How I could bring them to a better way.

  So much of me you surely know, my friends,

  And will not hurt me in my weakness here! [He trembles.]

  SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

  The tears that lie about this plightful scene

  Of heavy travail in a suffering soul,

  Mocked with the forms and feints of royalty

  While scarified by briery Circumstance,

  Might drive Compassion past her patiency

  To hold that some mean, monstrous ironist

  Had built this mistimed fabric of the Spheres

  To watch the throbbings of its captive lives,

  [The which may Truth forfend], and not thy said

  Unmaliced, unimpassioned, nescient Will!

  SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

  Mild one, be not touched with human fate.

  Such is the Drama: such the Mortal state:

  No sigh of thine can null the Plan Predestinate!

  HALFORD

  We have come to do your Majesty no harm.

  Here's Dr. Heberden, whom I am sure you like,

  And this is Dr. Baillie. We arrive

  But to inquire and gather how you are,

  Thereon to let the Privy Council know,

  And give assurances for you people's good.

  [A brass band is heard playing in the distant part of Windsor.]

  KING

  Ah—what does that band play for here to-day?

  She has been dead and I so short a time!...

  Her little hands are hardly cold as yet;

  But they can show such cruel indecency

  As to let trumpets play!

  HALFORD

  They guess not, sir,

  That you can hear them, or their chords would cease.

  Their boisterous music fetches back to me

  That, of our errands to your Majesty,

  One was congratulation most sincere

  Upon this glorious victory you have won.

  The news is just in port; the band booms out

  To celebrate it, and to honour you.

  KING

  A victory? I? Pray where?

  HALFORD

  Indeed so, sir:

  Hard by Albuera—far in harried Spain—

  Yes, sir; you have achieved a victory

  Of dash unmatched and feats unparalleled!

  KING

  He says I have won a battle? But I thought

  I was a poor afflicted captive here,

  In darkness lingering out my lonely days,

  Beset with terror of these myrmidons

  That suck my blood like vampires! Ay, ay, ay!—

  No aims left to me but to quicken death

  To quicklier please my son!—And yet he says

  That I have won a battle! O God, curse, damn!

  When will the speech of the world accord with truth,

  And men's tongues roll sincerely!

  GENTLEMAN [aside]

  Faith, 'twould seem

  As if the madman were the sanest here!

  [The KING'S face has flushed, and he becomes violent. The

  attendants rush forward to him.]

  SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

  Something within me aches to pray

  To some Great Heart, to take away

  This evil day, this evil day!

  CHORUS IRONIC

  Ha-ha! That's good. Thou'lt pray to It:—

  But where do Its compassions sit?

  Yea, where abides the heart of it?

  Is it where sky-fires flame and flit,

  Or solar craters spew and spit,

  Or ultra-stellar night-webs knit?

  What is Its shape? Man's counterfeit?

  That turns in some far sphere unlit

  The Wheel which drives the Infinite?

  SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

  Mock on, mock on! Yet I'll go pray

  To some Great Heart, who haply may

  Charm mortal miseries away!

  [The KING'S paroxysm continues. The attendants hold him.]

  HALFORD

  This is distressing. One can never tell

  How he will take things now. I thought Albuera

  A subject that would surely solace him.

  These paroxysms—have they been bad this week? [To Attendants.]

  FIRST ATTENDANT

  Sir Henry, no. He has quite often named

  The late Princess, as gently as a child

  A little bird found starved.

  WILLIS [aside to apothecary]

  I must increase the opium to-night, and lower him by a double set of

  leeches since he won't stand the lancet quietly.

  APOTHECARY

  You should take twenty ounces, doctor, if a drop—indeed, go on

  blooding till he's unconscious. He is too robust by half. And the

  watering-pot would do good again—not less than six feet above his

  head. See how heated he is.

  WILLIS

  Curse that town band. It will have to be stopped.

  HEBERDEN

  The same thing is going on all over England, no doubt, on account of

  this victory.

  HALFORD

  When he is in a more domineering mood he likes such allusions to his

  rank as king.... If he could resume his walks on the terrace he

  might improve slightly. But it is too soon yet. We must consider

  what we shall report to the Council. There is little hope of his

  being much better. What do you think, Willis?

  WILLIS

  None. He is done for this time!

  HALFORD

  Well, we must soften it down a little, so as not to upset the Queen

  too much, poor woman, and distract the Council unnecessarily. Eldon

  will go pumping up bucketfuls, and the Archbishops are so easily

  shocked that a certain conventional reserve is almost forced upon us.

  WILLIS [returning from the King]

  He is already better. The paroxysm has nearly passed. Your opinion

  will be far more favourable before you leave.

  [The KING soon grows calm, and the expression of his face changes

  to one of dejection. The attendants leave his side: he bends his

  head, and covers his face with his hand, while his lips move as if

  in prayer. He then turns to them.]

  KING [meekly]

  I am most truly sorry, gentlemen,

  If I have used language that would seem to show

  Discourtesy to you for your good help

  In this unhappy malady of mine!

  My nerves unstring, my friend; m
y flesh grows weak:

  "The good that I do I leave undone,

  The evil which I would not, that I do!"

  Shame, shame on me!

  WILLIS [aside to the others]

  Now he will be as low as before he was in the other extreme.

  KING

  A king should bear him kingly; I of all,

  One of so long a line. O shame on me!...

  —This battle that you speak of?—Spain, of course?

  Ah—Albuera! And many fall—eh? Yes?

  HALFORD

  Many hot hearts, sir, cold, I grieve to say.

  There's Major-General Houghton, Captain Bourke,

  And Herbert of the Third, Lieutenant Fox,

  And Captains Erck and Montague, and more.

  With Majors-General Cole and Stewart wounded,

  And Quartermaster-General Wallace too:

  A total of three generals, colonels five,

  Five majors, fifty captains; and to these

  Add ensigns and lieutenants sixscore odd,

  Who went out, but returned not. Heavily tithed

  Were the attenuate battalions there

  Who stood and bearded Death by the hour that day!

  KING

  O fearful price for victory! Add thereto

  All those I lost at Walchere.—A crime

  Lay there!... I stood on Chatham's being sent:

  It wears on me, till I am unfit to live!

  WILLIS [aside to the others]

  Don't let him get on that Walcheren business. There will be another

  outbreak. Heberden, please ye talk to him. He fancies you most.

  HEBERDEN

  I'll tell him some of the brilliant feats of the battle. [He goes

  and talks to the KING.]

  WILLIS [to the rest]

  Well, my inside begins to cry cupboard. I had breakfast early. We

  have enough particulars now to face the Queen's Council with, I

  should say, Sir Henry?

  HALFORD

  Yes.—I want to get back to town as soon as possible to-day. Mrs

  Siddons has a party at her house at Westbourne to-night, and all the

  world is going to be there.

  BAILLIE

  Well, I am not. But I have promised to take some friends to Vauxhall,

  as it is a grand gala and fireworks night. Miss Farren is going to

  sing "The Canary Bird."—The Regent's fete, by the way, is postponed

  till the nineteenth, on account of this relapse. Pretty grumpy he

  was at having to do it. All the world will be THERE, sure!

  WILLIS

  And some from the Shades, too, of the fair, sex.—Well, here comes

  Heberden. He has pacified his Majesty nicely. Now we can get away.

  [The physicians withdraw softly, and the scene is covered.]

  SCENE VI

  LONDON. CARLTON HOUSE AND THE STREETS ADJOINING

 

‹ Prev