The Dynasts

Act Fourth

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SCENE I

A ROAD OUT OF VIENNA

[It is morning in early May. Rain descends in torrents, accompanied

by peals of thunder. The tepid downpour has caused the trees to

assume as by magic a clothing of limp green leafage, and has turned

the ruts of the uneven highway into little canals.

A drenched travelling-chariot is passing, with a meagre escort.

In the interior are seated four women: the ARCHDUCHESS MARIA

LOUISA, in age about eighteen; her stepmother the EMPRESS OF

AUSTRIA, third wife of FRANCIS, only four years older than the

ARCHDUCHESS; and two ladies of the Austrian Court. Behind come

attendant carriages bearing servants and luggage.

The inmates remain for the most part silent, and appear to be in a

gloomy frame of mind. From time to time they glance at the moist

spring scenes which pass without in a perspective distorted by the

rain-drops that slide down the panes, and by the blurring effect

of the travellers' breathings. Of the four the one who keeps in

the best spirits is the ARCHDUCHESS, a fair, blue-eyed, full-

figured, round-lipped maiden.]

MARIA LOUISA

Whether the rain comes in or not I must open the window. Please

allow me. (She straightway opens it.)

EMPRESS (groaning)

Yes--open or shut it--I don't care. I am too ill to care for

anything! (The carriage jolts into a hole.) O woe! To think that

I am driven away from my husband's home in such a miserable

conveyance, along such a road, and in such weather as this. (Peal

of thunder.) There are his guns!

MARIA LOUISA

No, my dear one. It cannot be his guns. They told us when we

started that he was only half-way from Ratisbon hither, so that he

must be nearly a hundred miles off as yet; and a large army cannot

move fast.

EMPRESS

He should never have been let come nearer than Ratisbon! The victory

at Echmuhl was fatal for us. O Echmuhl, Echmuhl! I believe he will

overtake us before we get to Buda.

FIRST LADY-IN-WAITING

If so, your Majesty, shall we be claimed as prisoners and marched

to Paris?

EMPRESS

Undoubtedly. But I shouldn't much care. It would not be worse than

this. . . . I feel sodden all through me, and frowzy, and broken!

(She closes her eyes as if to doze.)

MARIA LOUISA

It is dreadful to see her suffer so! (Shutting the window.) If

the roads were not so bad I should not mind. I almost wish we had

stayed; though when he arrives the cannonade will be terrible.

FIRST LADY-IN-WAITING

I wonder if he will get into Vienna. Will his men knock down all

the houses, madam?

MARIA LOUISA

If he do get in, I am sure his triumph will not be for long. My

uncle the Archduke Charles is at his heels! I have been told many

important prophecies about Bonaparte's end, which is fast nearing,

it is asserted. It is he, they say, who is referred to in the

Apocalypse. He is doomed to die this year at Cologne, in an inn

called "The Red Crab." I don't attach too much importance to all

these predictions, but O, how glad I should be to see them come true!

SECOND LADY-IN-WAITING

So should we all, madam. What would become of his divorce-scheme

then?

MARIA LOUISA

Perhaps there is nothing in that report. One can hardly believe

such gossip.

SECOND LADY-IN-WAITING

But they say, your Imperial Highness, that he certainly has decided

to sacrifice the Empress Josephine, and that at the meeting last

October with the Emperor Alexander at Erfurt, it was even settled

that he should marry as his second wife the Grand-Duchess Anne.

MARIA LOUISA

I am sure that the Empress her mother will never allow one of the

house of Romanoff to marry with a bourgeois Corsican. I wouldn't

if I were she!

FIRST LADY-IN-WAITING

Perhaps, your Highness, they are not so particular in Russia, where

they are rather new themselves, as we in Austria, with your ancient

dynasty, are in such matters.

MARIA LOUISA

Perhaps not. Though the Empress-mother is a pompous old thing, as

I have been told by Prince Schwarzenberg, who was negotiating there

last winter. My father says it would be a dreadful misfortune for

our country if they were to marry. Though if we are to be exiled

I don't see how anything of that sort can matter much. . . . I hope

my father is safe!

[An officer of the escort rides up to the carriage window, which

is opened.]

EMPRESS (unclosing her eyes)

Any more misfortunes?

OFFICER

A rumour is a-wind, your Majesty,

That the French host, the Emperor in its midst,

Lannes, Massena, and Bessieres in its van,

Advancing hither along the Ratisbon road,

Has seized the castle and town of Ebersberg,

And burnt all down, with frightful m******e,

Vast heaps of dead and wounded being consumed,

So that the streets stink strong with frizzled flesh.--

The enemy, ere this, has crossed the Traun,

Hurling brave Hiller's army back on us,

And marches on Amstetten--thirty miles

Less distant from Vienna from before!

EMPRESS

The Lord show mercy to us! But O why

Did not the Archdukes intercept the foe?

OFFICER

His Highness Archduke Charles, your Majesty,

After his sore repulse Bohemia-wards,

Could not proceed with strength and speed enough

To close in junction with the Archduke John

And Archduke Louis, as was their intent.

So Marshall Lannes swings swiftly on Vienna,

With Oudinot's and Demont's might of foot;

Then Massena and all his mounted men,

And then Napoleon, Guards, Cuirassiers,

And the main body of the Imperial Force.

EMPRESS

Alas for poor Vienna!

OFFICER

Even so!

Your Majesty has fled it none too soon.

[The window is shut, and the procession disappears behind the

sheets of rain.]

SCENE II

THE ISLAND OF LOBAU, WITH WAGRAM BEYOND

[The northern horizon at the back of the bird's-eye prospect is

the high ground stretching from the Bisamberg on the left to the

plateau of Wagram on the right. In front of these elevations

spreads the wide plain of the Marchfeld, open, treeless, and with

scarcely a house upon it.(16)

In the foreground the Danube crosses the scene with a graceful

slowness, looping itself round the numerous wooded islands therein.

The largest of these, immediately under the eye, is the Lobau,

which stands like a knot in the gnarled grain represented by the

running river.

On this island can be discerned, closely packed, an enormous dark

multitude of foot, horse, and artillery in French uniforms, the

numbers reaching to a hundred and seventy thousand.

Lifting our eyes to discover what may be opposed to them we

perceive on the Wagram plateau aforesaid, and right and left in

front of it, extended lines of Austrians, whitish and glittering,

to the number of a hundred and forty thousand.

The July afternoon turns to evening, the evening to twilight.

A species of simmer which pervades the living spectacle raises

expectation till the very air itself seems strained with suspense.

A huge event of some kind is awaiting birth.]

DUMB SHOW

The first change under the cloak of night is that the tightly packed

regiments on the island are got under arms. The soldiery are like

a thicket of reeds in which every reed should be a man.

A large bridge connects the island with the further shore, as well

as some smaller bridges. Opposite are high redoubts and ravelins

that the Austrians have constructed for opposing the passage across,

which the French ostentatiously set themselves to attempt by the

large bridge, amid heavy cannonading.

But the movement is a feint, though this is not perceived by the

Austrians as yet. The real movement is on the right hand of the

foreground, behind a spur of the isle, and out of sight of the

enemy; where several large rafts and flat boats, each capable of

carrying three hundred men, are floated out from a screened creek.

Chosen battalions enter upon these, which immediately begin to cross

with their burden. Simultaneously from other screened nooks

secretly prepared floating bridges, in sections, are moved forth,

joined together, and defended by those who crossed on the rafts.

At two o'clock in the morning the thousands of cooped soldiers begin

to cross the bridges, producing a scene which, on such a scale, was

never before witnessed in the history of war. A great discharge

from the batteries accompanies this manoeuvre, arousing the Austrians

to a like cannonade.

The night has been obscure for summer-time, and there is no moon.

The storm now breaks in a tempestuous downpour, with lightning and

thunder. The tumult of nature mingles so fantastically with the

tumult of projectiles that flaming bombs and forked flashes cut the

air in company, and the noise from the mortars alternates with the

noise from the clouds.

From bridge to bridge and back again a gloomy-eyed figure stalks, as

it has stalked the whole night long, with the restlessness of a wild

animal. Plastered with mud, and dribbling with rain-water, it bears

no resemblance to anything dignified or official. The figure is that

of NAPOLEON, urging his multitudes over.

By daylight the great mass of the men is across the water. At

six the rain ceases, the mist uncovers the face of the sun, which

bristles on the helmets and bayonets of the French. A hum of

amazement rises from the Austrian hosts, who turn staring faces

southward and perceive what has happened, and the columns of

their enemies standing to arms on the same side of the stream

with themselves, and preparing to turn their left wing.

NAPOLEON rides along the front of his forces, which now spread out

upon the plain, and are ranged in order of battle.

Dumb Show ends, and the point of view changes.

SCENE III

THE FIELD OF WAGRAM

[The battlefield is now viewed reversely, from the windows of a

mansion at Wolkersdorf, to the rear of the Austrian position.

The aspect of the windows is nearly south, and the prospect includes

the plain of the Marchfeld, with the isled Danube and Lobau in the

extreme distance. Ten miles to the south-west, rightwards, the

faint summit of the tower of St. Stephen's, Vienna, appears. On

the middle-left stands the compact plateau of Wagram, so regularly

shaped as to seem as if constructed by art. On the extreme left

the July sun has lately risen.

Inside the room are discovered the EMPEROR FRANCIS and some house-

hold officers in attendance; with the War-Minister and Secretaries

at a table at the back. Through open doors can be seen in an outer

apartment adjutants, equerries, aides, and other military men. An

officer in waiting enters.]

OFFICER

During the night the French have shifted, sire,

And much revised their stations of the eve

By thwart and wheeling moves upon our left,

And on our centre--projects unforeseen

Till near accomplished.

FRANCIS

But I am advised

By oral message that the Archduke Charles,

Since the sharp strife last night, has mended, too,

His earlier dispositions, and has sped

Strong orders to the Archduke John, to bring

In swiftest marches all the force he holds,

And fall with heavy impact on the French

From nigh their rear?

OFFICER

'Tis good, sire; such a swoop

Will raise an obstacle to their retreat

And refuge in the fastness of the isle;

And show this victory-gorged adventurer

That striking with a river in his rear

Is not the safest tactic to be played

Against an Austrian front equipt like ours!

[The EMPEROR FRANCIS and others scrutinize through their glasses

the positions and movements of the Austrian divisions, which appear

on the plain as pale masses, emitting flashes from arms and helmets

under the July rays, and reaching from the Tower of Neusiedel on

the left, past Wagram, into the village of Stammersdorf on the

right. Beyond their lines are spread out the darker-hued French,

almost parallel to the Austrians.]

FRANCIS

Those moving masses toward the right I deem

The forces of Klenau and Kollowrath,

Sent to support Prince John of Lichtenstein

I his attack that way?

[An interval.]

Now that they've gained

The right there, why is not the attack begun?

OFFICER

They are beginning on the left wing, sire.

[The EMPEROR resumes his glass and beholds bodies of men descending

from the hills by Neusiedel, and crossing the Russbach river towards

the French--a movement which has been going on for some time.]

FRANCIS (turning thither)

Where we are weakest! It surpasses me

To understand why was our centre thinned

To pillar up our right already strong,

Where nought is doing, while our left assault

Stands ill-supported?

[Time passes in silence.]

Yes, it is so. See,

The enemy strikes Rossenberg in flank,

Compelling him to fall behind the Russbach!

[The EMPEROR gets excited, and his face perspires. At length he

cannot watch through his glass, and walks up and down.]

Penned useless here my nerves annoy my sight!

Inform me what you note.--I should opine

The Wagram height behind impregnable?

[Another silence, broken by the distant roar of the guns.]

OFFICER

Klenau and Kollowrath are pounding on!

To turn the enemy's left with our strong right

Is, after all, a plan that works out well.

Hiller and Lichtenstein conjoin therein.

FRANCIS

I hear from thence appalling cannonades.

OFFICER

'Tis their, your Majesty. Now we shall see

If the French read that there the danger lies.

FRANCIS

I only pray that Bonaparte refrain

From spying danger there till all too late!

OFFICER (involuntarily, after a pause)

Ah, Heaven!

FRANCIS (turning sharply)

Well, well? What changes figure now?

OFFICER

They pierce our centre, sire! We are, despite,

Not centrally so weak as I supposed.

Well done, Bellegarde!

FRANCIS (glancing to the centre)

And what has he well done?

OFFICER

The French in fierce fume broke through Aderklaa;

But Bellegarde, pricking along the plain behind,

Has charged and driven them back disorderly.

The Archduke Charles bounds thither, as I shape,

In person to support him!

[The EMPEROR returns to his spyglass; and they and others watch in

silence, sometimes the right of their front, sometimes the centre.]

FRANCIS

It is so!

That the right attack of ours spells victory,

And Austria's grand salvation! . . . (Times passes.) Turn your glass,

And closely scan Napoleon and his aides

Hand-galloping towards his centre-left

To strengthen it against the brave Bellegarde.

Does your eye reach him?--That white horse, alone

In front of those that move so rapidly.

OFFICER

It does, sire; though my glass can conjure not

So cunningly as yours. . . . that horse must be

The famed Euphrates--him the Persian king

Sent Bonaparte as gift.

[A silence. NAPOLEON reaches a carriage that is moving across.

It bears MASSENA, who, having received a recent wound, in unable

to ride.]

FRANCIS

See, the white horse and horseman pause beside

A coach for some strange reason rolling there. . . .

That white-horsed rider--yes!--is Bonaparte,

By the aides hovering round. . . .

New war-wiles have been worded; we shall spell

Their purport soon enough! (An interval.)

The French take heart

To stand to our battalions steadfastly,

And hold their ground, having the Emperor near!

[Time passes. An aide-de-camp enters.]

AIDE

The Archduke Charles is pierced in the shoulder, sire;

He strove too far in beating back the French

At Aderklaa, and was nearly ta'en.

The wound's not serious.--On our right we win,

And deem the battle ours.

[Enter another aide-de-camp.]

SECOND AIDE

Your Majesty,

We have borne them back through Aspern village-street

And Essling is recovered. What counts more,

Their bridges to the rear we have nearly grasped,

And panic-struck they crowd the few left free,

Choking the track, with cries of "All is lost!"

FRANCIS

Then is the land delivered. God be praised!

[Exeunt aides. An interval, during which the EMPEROR and his

companions again remain anxiously at their glasses.]

There is a curious feature I discern

To have come upon the battle. On our right

We gain ground rapidly; towards the left

We lose it; and the unjudged consequence

Is that the armies; whole commingling mass

Moves like a monstrous wheel. I like it not!

[Enter another aide-de-camp.]

THIRD AIDE

Our left wing, sire, recedes before Davout,

Whom nothing can withstand! Two corps he threw

Across the Russbach up to Neusiedel,

While he himself assailed the place in front.

Of the divisions one pressed on and on,

Till lodged atop. They would have been hurled back---

FRANCIS

But how goes it with us in sum? pray say!

THIRD AIDE

We have been battered off the eastern side

Of Wagram plateau.

FRANCIS

Where's the Archduke John?

Why comes he not? One man of his here now

Were worth a host anon. And yet he tarries!

[Exit third aide. Time passes, while they reconnoitre the field

with strained eyes.]

Our centre-right, it seems, round Neusiedel,

Is being repulsed! May the kind Heaven forbid

That Hesse Homberg should be yielding there!

[The Minister in attendance comes forward, and the EMPEROR consults

him; then walking up and down in silence. Another aide-de-camp

enters.]

FOURTH AIDE

Sire, Neusiedel has just been wrenched from us,

And the French right is on the Wagram crest;

Nordmann has fallen, and Veczay: Hesse Homberg,

Warteachben, Muger--almost all our best--

Bleed more or less profusely!

[A gloomy silence. Exit fourth side. Ten minutes pass. Enter an

officer in waiting.]

FRANCIS

What guns are those that groan from Wagram height?

OFFICER

Alas, Davout's! I have climbed the roof-top, sire,

And there discerned the truth.

[Cannonade continues. A long interval of suspense. The EMPEROR

returns to his glass.]

FRANCIS

A part of it!

There seems to be a grim, concerted lunge

By the whole strength of France upon our right,

Centre, and left wing simultaneously!

OFFICER

Most viciously upon the centre, sire,

If I mistook not, hard by Sussenbrunn;

The assault is led by Bonaparte in person,

Who shows himself with marvellous recklessness,

Yet like a phantom-fiend receives no hurt.

FRANCIS (still gazing)

Ha! Now the Archduke Charles has seen the intent,

And taken steps against it. Sussenbrunn

Must be the threatened thing. (Silence.) What an advance!--

Straight hitherward. Our centre girdles them.--

Surely they'll not persist? Who heads that charge?

OFFICER

They say Macdonald, sire.

FRANCIS

Meagrest remains

Will there be soon of those in that advance!

We are burning them to bones by our hot fire.

They are almost circumscribed: if fully so

The battle's ours! What's that behind them, eh?

OFFICER

Their last reserves, that they may feed the front,

And sterilize our hope!

FRANCIS

Yes, their reserve--

Dragoons and cuirassiers--charge in support.

You see their metal gleaming as they come.

Well, it is neck or nothing for them now!

OFFICER

It's nothing, sire. Their charge of cavalry

Has desperately failed.

FRANCIS

Their foot press on,

However, with a battery in front

Which deals the foulest damage done us yet. (Time passes.)

They ARE effecting lodgment, after all.

Who would have reckoned on't--our men so firm!

[Re-enter first aide-de-camp.]

FIRST AIDE

The Archduke Charles retreats, your majesty;

And the issue wears a dirty look just now.

FRANCIS (gloomily)

Yes: I have seen the signs for some good while.

But he retreats with blows, and orderly.

[Time passes, till the sun has rounded far towards the west. The

features of the battle now materially change. The French have

regained Aspern and Essling; the Austrian army is doubled back

from the Danube and from the heights of Wagram, which, as

viewed from Wolkersdorf, face the afternoon shine, the French

established thereon glittering in the rays.

FRANCIS (choking a sigh)

The turn has passed. We are worsted, but not overwhelmed! . . .

The French advance is laboured, and but slow.

--This might have been another-coloured day

If but the Archduke John had joined up promptly;

Yet still he lags!

ANOTHER OFFICER (lately entered)

He's just now coming, sire.

His columns glimmer in the Frenchmen's rear.

Past Siebenbrunn's and Loebensdorf's smoked hills.

FRANCIS (impatiently)

Ay--coming NOW! Why could he not be COME!

(They watch intently.)

We can see nothing of that side from here.

[Enter a general officer, who speaks to the Minister at the back

of the room.]

MINISTER (coming forward)

Your Majesty, I now have to suggest,

Pursuant to conclusions reached this morn,

That since the front and flower of all our force

Is seen receding to the Bisamberg,

These walls no longer yield safe shade for you,

Or facile outlook. Scouts returning say

Either Davout, or Bonaparte himself,

With the mid-columns of his forward corps,

Will bear up hitherward in fierce pursuit,

And may intrude beneath this very roof.

Not yet, I think; it may not be to-night;

But we should stand prepared.

FRANCIS

If we must go

We'll go with a good grace, unfeignedly!

Who knows to-morrow may not see regained

What we have lost to-day?

[Re-enter fourth aide-de-camp.]

FOURTH AIDE (breathlessly)

The Archduke John,

Discerning our main musters in retreat,

Abandons an advance that throws on him

The enemy's whole brunt if he bear on.

FRANCIS

Alas for his devotion! Let us go.

Such weight of sadness as we shoulder now

Will wring us down to sleep in stall or stye,

If even that be found! . . . Think! Bonaparte,

By reckless riskings of his life and limb,

Has turned the steelyard of our strength to-day

Whilst I have idled here! . . . May brighter times

Attend the cause of Europe far in Spain,

And British blood flow not, as ours, in vain!

[Exeunt the EMPEROR FRANCIS, minister, officers, and attendants.

The night comes, and the scene is obscured.]

SCENE IV

THE FIELD OF TALAVERA

[It is the same month and weather as in the preceding scene.

Talavera town, on the river Tagus, is at the extreme right of the

foreground; a mountain range on the extreme left.

The allied army under SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY stretches between--the

English on the left, the Spanish on the right--part holding a hill

to the left-centre of the scene, divided from the mountains by a

valley, and part holding a redoubt to the right-centre. This army

of more than fifty thousand all told, of which twenty-two thousand

only are English, has its back to the spectator.

Beyond, in a wood of olive, oak, and cork, are the fifty to sixty

thousand French, facing the spectator and the allies. Their right

includes a strong battery upon a hill which fronts the one on the

English left.

Behind all, the heights of Salinas close the prospect, the small

river Alberche flowing at their foot from left to right into the

Tagus, which advances in foreshortened perspective to the town at

the right front corner of the scene as aforesaid.]

DUMB SHOW

The hot and dusty July afternoon having turned to twilight, shady

masses of men start into motion from the French position, come towards

the foreground, silently ascend the hill on the left of the English,

and assail the latter in a violent outburst of fire and lead. They

nearly gain possession of the hill ascended.

CHORUS OF RUMOURS (aerial music)

Talavera tongues it as ten o' the night-time:

Now come Ruffin's slaughterers surging upward,

Backed by bold Vilatte's! From the vale Lapisse, too,

Darkly outswells there!

Down the vague veiled incline the English fling them,

Bended bayonets prodding opponents backward:

So the first fierce charge of the ardent Frenchmen

England repels there!

Having fallen back into the darkness the French presently reascend

in yet larger masses. The high square knapsack which every English

foot-soldier carries, and his shako, and its tuft, outline themselves

against the dim light as the ranks stand awaiting the shock.

CHORUS OF RUMOURS

Pushing spread they!--shout as they reach the summit!--

Strength and stir new-primed in their plump battalions:

Puffs of barbed flame blown on the lines opposing

Higher and higher.

There those hold them mute, though at speaking distance--

Mute, while clicking flints, and the crash of volleys

Whelm the weighted gloom with immense distraction

Pending their fire.

Fronting heads, helms, brows can each ranksman read there,

Epaulettes, hot cheeks, and the shining eyeball,

(Called a trice from gloom by the fleeting pan-flash)

Pressing them nigher!

The French again fall back in disorder into the hollow, and LAPISSE

draws off on the right. As the sinking sound of the muskets tells

what has happened the English raise a shout.

CHORUS OF PITIES

Thus the dim nocturnal embroil of conflict

Closes with the roar of receding gun-fire.

Harness loosened then, and their day-long strenuous

Temper unbending,

Worn-out lines lie down where they late stood staunchly--

Cloaks around them rolled--by the bivouac embers:

There at dawn to stake in the dynasts' death-game

All, till the ending!

SCENE V

THE SAME

DUMB SHOW (continued)

The morning breaks. There is another murderous attempt to dislodge the

English from the hill, the assault being pressed with a determination

that excites the admiration of the English themselves.

The French are seen descending into the valley, crossing it, and

climbing it on the English side under the fire of HILL'S whole

division, all to no purpose. In their retreat they leave behind

them on the slopes nearly two thousand lying.

The day advances to noon, and the air trembles in the intense heat.

The combat flags, and is suspended.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

What do I see but thirsty, throbbing bands

From these inimic hosts defiling down

In homely need towards the little stream

That parts their enmities, and drinking there!

They get to grasping hands across the rill,

Sealing their sameness as earth's sojourners.--

What more could plead the wryness of the time

Than such unstudied piteous pantomimes!

SPIRIT IRONIC

It is only that Life's queer mechanics chance to work out in this

grotesque shape just now. The groping tentativeness of an Immanent

Will (as grey old Years describes it) cannot be asked to learn logic

at this time of day! The spectacle of Its instruments, set to riddle

one another through, and then to drink together in peace and concord,

is where the humour comes in, and makes the play worth seeing!

SPIRIT SINISTER

Come, Sprite, don't carry your ironies too far, or you may wake up

the Unconscious Itself, and tempt It to let all the gory clock-work

of the show run down to spite me!

DUMB SHOW (continuing)

The drums roll, and the men of the two nations part from their

comradeship at the Alberche brook, the dark masses of the French

army assembling anew. SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY has seated himself on

a mound that commands a full view of the contested hill, and

remains there motionless a long time. When the French form for

battle he is seen to have come to a conclusion. He mounts, gives

his orders, and the aides ride off.

The French advance steadily through the sultry atmosphere, the

skirmishers in front, and the columns after, moving, yet seemingly

motionless. Their eighty cannon peal out and their shots mow every

space in the line of them. Up the great valley and the terraces of

the hill whose fame is at that moment being woven, comes VILLATE,

boring his way with foot and horse, and RUFFIN'S men following

behind.

According to the order given, the Twenty-third Light Dragoons and

the German Hussars advance at a chosen moment against the head of

these columns. On the way they disappear.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Why this bedevilment? What can have chanced?

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

It so befalls that as their chargers near

The inimical wall of flesh with its iron frise,

A treacherous chasm uptrips them: zealous men

And docile horses roll to dismal death

And horrid mutilation.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Those who live

Even now advance! I'll see no more. Relate.

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

Yes, those pant on. Then further Frenchmen cross,

And Polish Lancers, and Westphalian Horse,

Who ring around these luckless Islanders,

And sweep them down like reeds by the river-bank

In scouring floods; till scarce a man remains.

Meanwhile on the British right SEBASTIANI'S corps has precipitated

itself in column against GENERAL CAMPBELL'S division, the division

of LAPISSE against the centre, and at the same time the hill on the

English left is again assaulted. The English and their allies are

pressed sorely here, the bellowing battery tearing lanes through

their masses.

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR (continuing)

The French reserves of foot and horse now on,

Smiting the Islanders in breast and brain

Till their mid-lines are shattered. . . . Now there ticks

The moment of the crisis; now the next,

Which brings the turning stroke.

SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY sends down the Forty-eighth regiment under

COLONEL DONELLAN to support the wasting troops. It advances amid

those retreating, opening to let them pass.

SPIRIT OF THE RUMOUR (continuing)

The pales, enerved,

The hitherto unflinching enemy!

Lapisse is pierced to death; the flagging French

Decline into the hollows whence they came.

The too exhausted English and reduced

Lack strength to follow.--Now the western sun,

Conning with unmoved visage quick and dead,

Gilds horsemen slackening, and footmen stilled,

Till all around breathes drowsed hostility.

Last, the swealed herbage lifts a leering light,

And flames traverse the field; and hurt and slain

Opposed, opposers, in a common plight

Are scorched together on the dusk champaign.

The fire dies down, and darkness enwraps the scene.

SCENE VI

BRIGHTON. THE ROYAL PAVILION

[It is the birthday dinner-party of the PRINCE OF WALES. In the

floridly decorated banqueting-room stretch tables spread with gold

and silver plate, and having artificial fountains in their midst.

Seated at the tables are the PRINCE himself as host--rosy, well

curled, and affable--the DUKES OF YORK, CLARENCE, KENT, SUSSEX,

CUMBERLAND, and CAMBRIDGE, with many noblemen, including LORDS

HEADFORT, BERKELEY, EGREMONT, CHICHESTER, DUDLEY, SAY AND SELE,

SOUTHAMPTON, HEATHFIELD, ERSKINE, KEITH, C. SOMERSET, G. CAVENDISH,

R. SEYMOUR, and others; SIR C. POLE, SIR E.G. DE CRESPIGNY, MR.

SHERIDAN; Generals, Colonels, and Admirals, and the REV. MR. SCOTT.

The PRINCE'S band plays in the adjoining room. The banquet is

drawing to its close, and a boisterous conversation is in progress.

Enter COLONEL BLOOMFIELD with a dispatch for the PRINCE, who looks

it over amid great excitement in the company. In a few moments

silence is called.]

PRINCE OF WALES

I have the joy, my lords and gentlemen,

To rouse you with the just imported tidings

From General Wellesley through Lord Castlereagh

Of a vast victory (noisy cheers) over the French in Spain.

The place--called Talavera de la Reyna

(If I pronounce it rightly)--long unknown,

Wears not the crest and blazonry of fame! (Cheers.)

The heads and chief contents of the dispatch

I read you as succinctly as I can. (Cheers.)

SHERIDAN (singing sotto voce)

"Now foreign foemen die and fly,

Dammy, we'll drink little England dry!"

[The PRINCE reads the parts of the dispatch that describe the

battle, amid intermittent cheers.]

PRINCE OF WALES (continuing)

Such is the substance of the news received,

Which, after Wagram, strikes us genially

As sudden sunrise through befogged night shades!

SHERIDAN (privately)

By God, that's good, sir! You are a poet born, while the rest of us

are but made, and bad at that.

[The health of the army in Spain is drunk with acclamations.]

PRINCE OF WALES (continuing)

In this achievement we, alas! have lost

Too many! Yet suck blanks must ever be.--

Mackenzie, Langworth, Beckett of the Guards,

Have fallen of ours; while of the enemy

Generals Lapisse and Morlot are laid low.--

Drink to their memories!

[They drink in silence.]

Other news, my friends,

Received to-day is of like hopeful kind.

The Great War-Expedition to the Scheldt (Cheers.)

Which lately sailed, has found a favouring wind,

And by this hour has touched its destined shores.

The enterprise will soon be hot aglow,

The invaders making first the Cadsand coast,

And then descending on Walcheren Isle.

But items of the next step are withheld

Till later days, from obvious policy. (Cheers.)

[Faint throbbing sounds, like the notes of violincellos and

contrabassos, reach the ear from some building without as the

speaker pauses.

In worthy emulation of us here

The county holds to-night a birthday ball,

Which flames with all the fashion of the town.

I have been asked to patronize their revel,

And sup with them, and likewise you, my guests.

We have good reason, with such news to bear!

Thither we haste and join our loyal friends,

And stir them with this live intelligence

Of our staunch regiments on the Spanish plains. (Applause.)

With them we'll now knit hands and beat the ground,

And bring in dawn as we whirl round and round!

There are some fair ones in their set to-night,

And such we need here in our bachelor-plight. (Applause.)

[The PRINCE, his brothers, and a large proportion of the other

Pavilion guests, swagger out in the direction of the Castle

assembly-rooms adjoining, and the deserted banqueting-hall grows

dark. In a few moments the back of the scene opens, revealing

the assembly-rooms behind.]

SCENE VII

THE SAME. THE ASSEMBLY ROOMS

[The rooms are lighted with candles in brass chandeliers, and a

dance is in full movement to the strains of a string-band. A

signal is given, shortly after the clock has struck eleven, by

MR. FORTH, Master of Ceremonies.]

FORTH

His Royal Highness comes, though somewhat late,

But never too late for welcome! (Applause.) Dancers, stand,

That we may do fit homage to the Prince

Who soon may shine our country's gracious king.

[After a brief stillness a commotion is heard at the door, the band

strikes up the National air, and the PRINCE enters, accompanied by

the rest of the visitors from the Pavilion. The guests who have

been temporarily absent now crowd in, till there is hardly space

to stand.]

PRINCE OF WALES (wiping his face and whispering to Sheridan)

What shall I say to fit their feeling here?

Damn me, that other speech has stumped me quite!

SHERIDAN (whispering)

If heat be evidence of loy---

PRINCE OF WALES

If what?

SHERIDAN

If heat be evidence of loyalty,

Et caetera--something quaint like that might please 'em.

PRINCE OF WALES (to the company)

If heat be evidence of loyalty,

This room affords it truly without question;

If heat be not, then its accompaniment

Most surely 'tis to-night. The news I bring,

Good ladies, friends, and gentlemen, perchance

You have divined already? That our arms--

Engaged to thwart Napoleon's tyranny

Over the jaunty, jocund land of Spain

Even to the highest apex of our strength--

Are rayed with victory! (Cheers.) Lengthy was the strife

And fierce, and hot; and sore the suffering;

But proudly we endured it; and shall hear,

No doubt, of its far consequence

Ere many days. I'll read the details sent. (Cheers.)

[He reads again from the dispatch amid more cheering, the ball-

room guests crowding round. When he has done he answers questions;

then continuing:

Meanwhile our interest is, if possible,

As keenly waked elsewhere. Into the Scheldt

Some forty thousand bayonets and swords,

And twoscore ships o' the line, with frigates, sloops,

And gunboats sixty more, make headway now,

Bleaching the waters with their bellying sails;

Or maybe they already anchor there,

And that level ooze of Walcheren shore

Ring with the voices of that landing host

In every twang of British dialect,

Clamorous to loosen fettered Europe's chain! (Cheers.)

A NOBLE LORD (aside to Sheridan)

Prinny's outpouring tastes suspiciously like your brew, Sheridan.

I'll be damned if it is his own concoction. How d'ye sell it a

gallon?

SHERIDAN

I don't deal that way nowadays. I give the recipe, and charge a

duty on the gauging. It is more artistic, and saves trouble.

[The company proceed to the supper-rooms, and the ball-room sinks

into solitude.]

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

So they pass on. Let be!--But what is this--

A moan?--all frailly floating from the east

To usward, even from the forenamed isle? . . .

Would I had not broke nescience, to inspect

A world so ill-contrived!

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

But since thou hast

We'll hasten to the isle; and thou'lt behold--

Such as it is--the scene its coasts enfold.

SCENE VIII

WALCHEREN

[A marshy island at the mouth of the Scheldt, lit by the low

sunshine of an evening in late summer. The horizontal rays from

the west lie in yellow sheaves across the vapours that the day's

heat has drawn from the sweating soil. Sour grasses grow in

places, and strange fishy smells, now warm, now cold, pass along.

Brass-hued and opalescent bubbles, compounded of many gases, rise

where passing feet have trodden the damper spots. At night the

place is the haunt of the Jack-lantern.]

DUMB SHOW

A vast army is encamped here, and in the open spaces are infantry on

parade--skeletoned men, some flushed, some shivering, who are kept

moving because it is dangerous to stay still. Every now and then

one falls down, and is carried away to a hospital with no roof, where

he is laid, bedless, on the ground.

In the distance soldiers are digging graves for the funerals which

are to take place after dark, delayed till then that the sight of

so many may not drive the living melancholy-mad. Faint noises are

heard in the air.

SHADE OF THE EARTH

What storm is this of souls dissolved in sighs,

And what the dingy doom it signifies?

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

We catch a lamentation shaped thuswise:

CHORUS OF THE PITIES (aerial music)

"We who withstood the blasting blaze of war

When marshalled by the gallant Moore awhile,

Beheld the grazing death-bolt with a smile,

Closed combat edge to edge and bore to bore,

Now rot upon this Isle!

"The ever wan morass, the dune, the blear

Sandweed, and tepid pool, and putrid smell,

Emaciate purpose to a fractious fear,

Beckon the body to its last low cell--

A c***k no chart will tell.

"O ancient Delta, where the fen-lights flit!

Ignoble sediment of loftier lands,

Thy humour clings about our hearts and hands

And solves us to its softness, till we sit

As we were part of it.

"Such force as fever leaves maddened now,

With tidings trickling in from day to day

Of others' differing fortunes, wording how

They yield their lives to baulk a tyrant's sway--

Yield them not vainly, they!

"In champaigns green and purple, far and near,

In town and thorpe where quiet spire-c***s turn,

Through vales, by rocks, beside the brooding burn

Echoes the aggressor's arrogant career;

And we pent pithless here!

"Here, where each creeping day the creeping file

Draws past with shouldered comrades score on score,

Bearing them to their lightless last asile,

Where weary wave-wails from the clammy shore

Will reach their ears no more.

"We might have fought, and had we died, died well,

Even if in dynasts' discords not our own;

Our death-spot some sad haunter might have shown,

Some tongue have asked our sires or sons to tell

The tale of how we fell;

"But such be chanced not. Like the mist we fade,

No lustrous lines engrave in story we,

Our country's chiefs, for their own fames afraid,

Will leave our names and fates by this pale sea,

To perish silently!"

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Why must ye echo as mechanic mimes

These mortal minion's bootless cadences,

Played on the stops of their anatomy

As is the mewling music on the strings

Of yonder ship-masts by the unweeting wind,

Or the frail tune upon this withering sedge

That holds its papery blades against the gale?

--Men pass to dark corruption, at the best,

Ere I can count five score: these why not now?--

The Immanent Shaper builds Its beings so

Whether ye sigh their sighs with them or no!

The night fog enwraps the isle and the dying English army.

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.