The Dynasts

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(19)

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(20) 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 dollars, 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

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 alcove.]

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.]

In the 1600s, Balthasar Gracian, a jesuit priest wrote 300 aphorisms on living life called "The Art of Worldly Wisdom." Join our newsletter below and read them all, one at a time.