Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated)

by Thomas Hardy

I meant the enterprise, and not its stuff....

  I had no wish to fight, nor Alexander,

  But circumstance impaled us each on each;

  The Genius who outshapes my destinies

  Did all the rest! Had I but hit success,

  Imperial splendour would have worn a crown

  Unmatched in long-scrolled Time!... Well, leave that now.—

  What do they know about all this in Paris?

  MARIE LOUSE

  I cannot say. Black rumours fly and croak

  Like ravens through the streets, but come to me

  Thinned to the vague!—Occurrences in Spain

  Breed much disquiet with these other things.

  Marmont's defeat at Salamanca field

  Ploughed deep into men's brows. The cafes say

  Your troops must clear from Spain.

  NAPOLEON

  We'll see to that!

  I'll find a way to do a better thing;

  Though I must have another army first—

  Three hundred thousand quite. Fishes as good

  Swim in the sea as have come out of it.

  But to begin, we must make sure of France,

  Disclose ourselves to the good folk of Paris

  In daily outing as a family group,

  The type and model of domestic bliss

  [Which, by the way, we are]. And I intend,

  Also, to gild the dome of the Invalides

  In best gold leaf, and on a novel pattern.

  MARIE LOUISE

  To gild the dome, dear? Why?

  NAPOLEON

  To give them something

  To think about. They'll take to it like children,

  And argue in the cafes right and left

  On its artistic points.—So they'll forget

  The woes of Moscow.

  [A chamberlain-in-waiting announces supper. MARIE LOUISE and

  NAPOLEON go out. The room darkens and the scene closes.]

  ACT SECOND

  SCENE I

  THE PLAIN OF VITORIA

  [It is the eve of the longest day of the year; also the eve of the

  battle of Vitoria. The English army in the Peninsula, and their

  Spanish and Portuguese allies, are bivouacking on the western side

  of the Plain, about six miles from the town.

  On some high ground in the left mid-distance may be discerned the

  MARQUIS OF WELLINGTON'S tent, with GENERALS HILL, PICTON, PONSONBY,

  GRAHAM, and others of his staff, going in and out in consultation

  on the momentous event impending. Near the foreground are some

  hussars sitting round a fire, the evening being damp; their horses

  are picketed behind. In the immediate front of the scene are some

  troop-officers talking.]

  FIRST OFFICER

  This grateful rest of four-and-twenty hours

  Is priceless for our jaded soldiery;

  And we have reconnoitred largely, too;

  So the slow day will not have slipped in vain.

  SECOND OFFICER [looking towards the headquarter tent]

  By this time they must nearly have dotted down

  The methods of our master-stroke to-morrow:

  I have no clear conception of its plan,

  Even in its leading lines. What is decided?

  FIRST OFFICER

  There are outshaping three supreme attacks,

  As I decipher. Graham's on the left,

  To compass which he crosses the Zadorra,

  And turns the enemy's right. On our right, Hill

  Will start at once to storm the Puebla crests.

  The Chief himself, with us here in the centre,

  Will lead on by the bridges Tres-Puentes

  Over the ridge there, and the Mendoza bridge

  A little further up.—That's roughly it;

  But much and wide discretionary power

  Is left the generals all.

  [The officers walk away, and the stillness increases, so the

  conversation at the hussars' bivouac, a few yards further back,

  becomes noticeable.]

  SERGEANT YOUNG

  I wonder, I wonder how Stourcastle is looking this summer night, and

  all the old folks there!

  SECOND HUSSAR

  You was born there, I think I've heard ye say, Sergeant?

  SERGEANT YOUNG

  I was. And though I ought not to say it, as father and mother are

  living there still, 'tis a dull place at times. Now Budmouth-Regis

  was exactly to my taste when we were there with the Court that

  summer, and the King and Queen a-wambling about among us like the

  most everyday old man and woman you ever see. Yes, there was plenty

  going on, and only a pretty step from home. Altogether we had a

  fine time!

  THIRD HUSSAR

  You walked with a girl there for some weeks, Sergeant, if my memory

  serves?

  SERGEANT YOUNG

  I did. And a pretty girl 'a was. But nothing came on't. A month

  afore we struck camp she married a tallow-chandler's dipper of Little

  Nicholas Lane. I was a good deal upset about it at the time. But

  one gets over things!

  SECOND HUSSAR

  'Twas a low taste in the hussy, come to that.—Howsomever, I agree

  about Budmouth. I never had pleasanter times than when we lay there.

  You had a song on it, Sergeant, in them days, if I don't mistake?

  SERGEANT YOUNG

  I had; and have still. 'Twas made up when we left by our bandmaster

  that used to conduct in front of Gloucester Lodge at the King's Mess

  every afternoon.

  [The Sergeant is silent for a minute, then suddenly bursts into

  melody.]

  SONG "BUDMOUTH DEARS"

  I

  When we lay where Budmouth Beach is,

  O, the girls were fresh as peaches,

  With their tall and tossing figures and their eyes of blue

  and brown!

  And our hearts would ache with longing

  As we paced from our sing-songing,

  With a smart CLINK! CLINK! up the Esplanade and down

  II

  They distracted and delayed us

  By the pleasant pranks they played us,

  And what marvel, then, if troopers, even of regiments of renown,

  On whom flashed those eyes divine, O,

  Should forget the countersign, O,

  As we tore CLINK! CLINK! back to camp above the town.

  III

  Do they miss us much, I wonder,

  Now that war has swept us sunder,

  And we roam from where the faces smile to where the faces frown?

  And no more behold the features

  Of the fair fantastic creatures,

  And no more CLINK! CLINK! past the parlours of the town?

  IV

  Shall we once again there meet them?

  Falter fond attempts to greet them?

  Will the gay sling-jacket glow again beside the muslin gown?—

  Will they archly quiz and con us

  With a sideways glance upon us,

  While our spurs CLINK! CLINK! up the Esplanade and down?

  [Applause from the other hussars. More songs are sung, the night

  gets darker, the fires go out, and the camp sleeps.]

  SCENE II

  THE SAME, FROM THE PUEBLA HEIGHTS

  [It is now day; but a summer fog pervades the prospect. Behind

  the fog is heard the roll of bass and tenor drums and the clash

  of cymbals, with notes of the popular march "The Downfall of Paris."

  By degrees the fog lifts, and the Plain is disclosed. From this

  elevation, gazing north, the expanse looks like the palm of a

  monstrous right hand, a little
hollowed, some half-dozen miles

  across, wherein the ball of the thumb is roughly represented by

  heights to the east, on which the French centre has gathered; the

  "Mount of Mars" and the "Moon" [the opposite side of the palm] by

  the position of the English on the left or west of the plain;

  and the "Line of Life" by the Zadorra, an unfordable river running

  from the town down the plain, and dropping out of it through a

  pass in the Puebla Heights to the south, just beneath our point

  of observation—that is to say, toward the wrist of the supposed

  hand. The left of the English army under GRAHAM would occupy the

  "mounts" at the base of the fingers; while the bent finger-tips

  might represent the Cantabrian Hills beyond the plain to the north

  or back of the scene.

  From the aforesaid stony crests of Puebla the white town and

  church towers of Vitoria can be descried on a slope to the right-

  rear of the field of battle. A warm rain succeeds the fog for a

  short while, bringing up the fragrant scents from fields, vineyards,

  and gardens, now in the full leafage of June.]

  DUMB SHOW

  All the English forces converge forward—that is, eastwardly—the

  centre over the ridges, the right through the Pass to the south, the

  left down the Bilbao road on the north-west, the bands of the divers

  regiments striking up the same quick march, "The Downfall of Paris."

  SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

  You see the scene. And yet you see it not.

  What do you notice now?

  There immediately is shown visually the electric state of mind that

  animates WELLINGTON, GRAHAM, HILL, KEMPT, PICTON, COLVILLE, and other

  responsible ones on the British side; and on the French KING JOSEPH

  stationary on the hill overlooking his own centre, and surrounded by

  a numerous staff that includes his adviser MARSHAL JOURDAN, with,

  far away in the field, GAZAN, D'ERLON, REILLE, and other marshals.

  This vision, resembling as a whole the interior of a beating brain

  lit by phosphorescence, in an instant fades back to normal.

  Anon we see the English hussars with their flying pelisses galloping

  across the Zadorra on one of the Tres-Puentes in the midst of the

  field, as had been planned, the English lines in the foreground under

  HILL pushing the enemy up the slopes; and far in the distance, to the

  left of Vitoria, whiffs of grey smoke followed by low rumbles show

  that the left of the English army under GRAHAM is pushing on there.

  Bridge after bridge of the half-dozen over the Zadorra is crossed by

  the British; and WELLINGTON, in the centre with PICTON, seeing the

  hill and village of Arinez in front of him [eastward] to be weakly

  held, carries the regiments of the seventh and third divisions in a

  quick run towards it. Supported by the hussars, they ultimately

  fight their way to the top, in a chaos of smoke, flame, and booming

  echoes, loud-voiced PICTON, in an old blue coat and round hat,

  swearing as he goes.

  Meanwhile the French who are opposed to the English right, in the

  foreground, have been turned by HILL; the heights are all abandoned,

  and the columns fall back in a confused throng by the road to

  Vitoria, hard pressed by the British, who capture abandoned guns

  amid indescribable tumult, till the French make a stand in front

  of the town.

  SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

  What's toward in the distance?—say!

  SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS [aerial music]

  Fitfully flash strange sights there; yea,

  Unwonted spectacles of sweat and scare

  Behind the French, that make a stand

  With eighty cannon, match in hand.—

  Upon the highway from the town to rear

  An eddy of distraction reigns,

  Where lumbering treasure, baggage-trains,

  Padding pedestrians, haze the atmosphere.

  SEMICHORUS II

  Men, women, and their children fly,

  And when the English over-high

  Direct their death-bolts, on this billowy throng

  Alight the too far-ranging balls,

  Wringing out piteous shrieks and calls

  From the pale mob, in monotones loud and long.

  SEMICHORUS I

  To leftward of the distant din

  Reille meantime has been driven in

  By Graham's measure overmastering might.—

  Henceforward, masses of the foe

  Withdraw, and, firing as they go,

  Pass rightwise from the cockpit out of sight.

  CHORUS

  The sunset slants an ochreous shine

  Upon the English knapsacked line,

  Whose glistering bayonets incline

  As bends the hot pursuit across the plain;

  And tardily behind them goes

  Too many a mournful load of those

  Found wound-weak; while with stealthy crawl,

  As silence wraps the rear of all,

  Cloaked creatures of the starlight strip the slain.

  SCENE III

  THE SAME. THE ROAD FROM THE TOWN

  [With the going down of the sun the English army finds itself in

  complete possession of the mass of waggons and carriages distantly

  beheld from the rear—laden with pictures, treasure, flour,

  vegetables, furniture, finery, parrots, monkeys, and women—most

  of the male sojourners in the town having taken to their heels

  and disappeared across the fields.

  The road is choked with these vehicles, the women they carry

  including wives, mistresses, actresses, dancers, nuns, and

  prostitutes, which struggle through droves of oxen, sheep, goats,

  horses, asses, and mules— a Noah's-ark of living creatures in

  one vast procession.

  There enters rapidly in front of this throng a carriage containing

  KING JOSEPH BONAPARTE and an attendant, followed by another vehicle

  with luggage.]

  JOSEPH [inside carriage]

  The bare unblinking truth hereon is this:

  The Englishry are a pursuing army,

  And we a flying brothel! See our men—

  They leave their guns to save their mistresses!

  [The carriage is fired upon from outside the scene. The KING leaps

  from the vehicle and mounts a horse.

  Enter at full gallop from the left CAPTAIN WYNDHAM and a detachment

  of the Tenth Hussars in chase of the King's carriage; and from the

  right a troop of French dragoons, who engage with the hussars and

  hinder pursuit. Exit KING JOSEPH on horseback; afterwards the

  hussars and dragoons go out fighting.

  The British infantry enter irregularly, led by a sergeant of the

  Eighty-seventh, mockingly carrying MARSHAL JOURDAN'S baton. The

  crowd recedes. The soldiers ransack the King's carriages, cut

  from their frames canvases by Murillo, Velasquez, and Zurbaran,

  and use them as package-wrappers, throwing the papers and archives

  into the road.

  They next go to a waggon in the background, which contains a large

  chest. Some of the soldiers burst it with a crash. It is full of

  money, which rolls into the road. The soldiers begin scrambling,

  but are restored to order; and they march on.

  Enter more companies of infantry, out of control of their officers,

  who are running behind. They see the dollar
s, and take up the

  scramble for them; next ransacking other waggons and abstracting

  therefrom uniforms, ladies raiment, jewels, plate, wines, and

  spirits.

  Some array them in the finery, and one soldier puts on a diamond

  necklace; others load themselves with the money still lying about

  the road. It begins to rain, and a private who has lost his kit

  cuts a hole in the middle of a deframed old master, and, putting

  it over his head, wears it as a poncho.

  Enter WELLINGTON and others, grimy and perspiring.]

  FIRST OFFICER

  The men are plundering in all directions!

  WELLINGTON

  Let 'em. They've striven long and gallantly.

  —What documents do I see lying there?

  SECOND OFFICER [examining]

  The archives of King Joseph's court, my lord;

  His correspondence, too, with Bonaparte.

  WELLINGTON

  We must examine it. It may have use.

  [Another company of soldiers enters, dragging some equipages that

  have lost their horses by the traces being cut. The carriages

  contain ladies, who shriek and weep at finding themselves captives.]

  What women bring they there?

  THIRD OFFICER

  Mixed sorts, my lord.

  The wives of many young French officers,

  The mistresses of more—in male attire.

  Yon elegant hussar is one, to wit;

  She so disguised is of a Spanish house,—

  One of the general's loves.

  WELLINGTON

  Well, pack them off

  To-morrow to Pamplona, as you can;

  We've neither list nor leisure for their charms.

  By God, I never saw so many wh—-s

  In all my life before!

  [Exeunt WELLINGTON, officers, and infantry. A soldier enters with

  his arm round a lady in rich costume.]

  SOLDIER

  We must be married, my dear.

  LADY [not knowing his language]

  Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life!

  SOLDIER

  There's neither parson nor clerk here. But that don't matter—hey?

  LADY

  Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life!

  SOLDIER

  And if we've got to unmarry at cockcrow, why, so be it—hey?

  LADY

  Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life!

  SOLDIER

  A sensible 'ooman, whatever it is she says; that I can see by her

  pretty face. Come along then, my dear. There'll be no bones broke,

  and we'll take our lot with Christian resignation.

  [Exeunt soldier and lady. The crowd thins away as darkness closes