The Dynasts

Act Fifth

SCENE I

OFF CAPE TRAFALGAR

[A bird's eye view of the sea discloses itself. It is daybreak,

and the broad face of the ocean is fringed on its eastern edge

by the Cape and the Spanish shore. On the rolling surface

immediately beneath the eye, ranged more or less in two parallel

lines running north and south, one group from the twain standing

off somewhat, are the vessels of the combined French and Spanish

navies, whose canvases, as the sun edges upward, shine in its

rays like satin.

On the western horizon two columns of ships appear in full sail,

small as moths to the aerial vision. They are bearing down

towards the combined squadrons.]

RECORDING ANGEL I (intoning from his book)

At last Villeneuve accepts the sea and fate,

Despite the Cadiz council called of late,

Whereat his stoutest captains--men the first

To do all mortals durst--

Willing to sail, and bleed, and bear the worst,

Short of cold suicide, did yet opine

That plunging mid those teeth of treble line

In jaws of oaken wood

Held open by the English navarchy

With suasive breadth and artful modesty,

Would smack of purposeless foolhardihood.

RECORDING ANGEL II

But word came, writ in mandatory mood,

To put from Cadiz, gain Toulon, and straight

At a said sign on Italy operate.

Moreover that Villeneuve, arrived as planned,

Would find Rosily in supreme command.--

Gloomy Villeneuve grows rash, and, darkly brave,

Leaps to meet war, storm, Nelson--even the grave.

SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS (aerial music)

Ere the concussion hurtle, draw abreast

Of the sea.

SEMICHORUS II

Where Nelson's hulls are rising from the west,

Silently.

SEMICHORUS I

Each linen wing outspread, each man and lad

Sworn to be

SEMICHORUS II

Amid the vanmost, or for Death, or glad

Victory!

[The point of sight descends till it is near the deck of the

"Bucentaure," the flag-ship of VILLENEUVE. Present thereupon

are the ADMIRAL, his FLAG-CAPTAIN MAGENDIE, LIEUTENANT

DAUDIGNON, other naval officers and seamen.]

MAGENDIE

All night we have read their signals in the air,

Whereby the peering frigates of their van

Have told them of our trend.

VILLENEUVE

The enemy

Makes threat as though to throw him on our stern:

Signal the fleet to wear; bid Gravina

To come in from manoeuvring with his twelve,

And range himself in line.

[Officers murmur.]

I say again

Bid Gravina draw hither with his twelve,

And signal all to wear!--and come upon

The larboard tack with every bow anorth!--

So we make Cadiz in the worst event.

And patch our rags up there. As we head now

Our only practicable thoroughfare

Is through Gibraltar Strait--a fatal door!

Signal to close the line and leave no gaps.

Remember, too, what I have already told:

Remind them of it now. They must not pause

For signallings from me amid a strife

Whose chaos may prevent my clear discernment,

Or may forbid my signalling at all.

The voice of honour then becomes the chief's;

Listen they thereto, and set every stitch

To heave them on into the fiercest fight.

Now I will sum up all: heed well the charge;

EACH CAPTAIN, PETTY OFFICER, AND MAN

IS ONLY AT HIS POST WHEN UNDER FIRE.

[The ships of the whole fleet turn their bows from south to

north as directed, and close up in two parallel curved columns,

the concave side of each column being towards the enemy, and

the interspaces of the first column being, in general, opposite

the hulls of the second.]

AN OFFICER (straining his eyes towards the English fleet)

How they skip on! Their overcrowded sail

Bulge like blown bladders in a tripeman's shop

The market-morning after slaughterday!

PETTY OFFICER

It's morning before slaughterday with us,

I make so bold to bode!

[The English Admiral is seen to be signalling to his fleet. The

signal is: "ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY." A loud

cheering from all the English ships comes undulating on the wind

when the signal is read.]

VILLENEUVE

They are signalling too--Well, business soon begins!

You will reserve your fire. And be it known

That we display no admirals' flags at all

Until the action's past. 'Twill puzzle them,

And work to our advantage when we close.--

Yes, they are double-ranked, I think, like us;

But we shall see anon.

MAGENDIE

The foremost one

Makes for the "Santa Ana." In such case

The "Fougueux" might assist her.

VILLENEUVE

Be it so--

There's time enough.--Our ships will be in place,

And ready to speak back in iron words

When theirs cry Hail! in the same sort of voice.

[They prepare to receive the northernmost column of the enemy's

ships headed by the "Victory," trying the distance by an occasional

single shot. During their suspense a discharge is heard southward,

and turning they behold COLLINGWOOD at the head of his column in

the "Royal Sovereign," just engaging with the Spanish "Santa Ana."

Meanwhile the "Victory's" mizzen-topmast, with spars and a quantity

of rigging, is seen to have fallen, her wheel to be shot away, and

her deck encumbered with dead and wounded men.]

VILLENEUVE

'Tis well! But see; their course is undelayed,

And still they near in clenched audacity!

DAUDIGNON

Which aim deft Lucas o' the "Redoubtable"

Most gallantly bestirs him to outscheme.--

See, how he strains, that on his timbers fall

Blows that were destined for his Admiral!

[During this the French ship "Redoubtable" is moving forward

to interpose itself between the approaching "Victory" and the

"Bucentaure."]

VILLENEUVE

Now comes it! The "Santisima Trinidad,"

The old "Redoubtable's" hard sides, and ours,

Will take the touse of this bombastic blow.

Your grapnels and your boarding-hatchets--ready!

We'll dash our eagle on the English deck,

And swear to fetch it!

CREW

Ay! We swear. Huzza

Long live the Emperor!

[But the "Victory" suddenly swerves to the rear of the "Bucentaure,"

and crossing her stern-waters, discharges a broadside into her and

the "Redoubtable" endwise, wrapping the scene in folds of smoke.

The point of view changes.]

SCENE II

THE SAME. THE QUARTER-DECK OF THE "VICTORY"

[The van of each division of the English fleet has drawn to the

windward side of the combined fleets of the enemy, and broken

their order, the "Victory" being now parallel to and alongside

the "Redoubtable," the "Temeraire" taking up a station on the

other side of that ship. The "Bucentaure" and the "Santisima

Trinidad" become jammed together a little way ahead. A smoke

and din of cannonading prevail, amid which the studding-sail

booms are shot away.

NELSON, HARDY, BLACKWOOD, SECRETARY SCOTT, LIEUTENANT PASCO,

BURKE the Purser, CAPTAIN ADAIR of the Marines, and other

officers are on or near the quarter-deck.]

NELSON

See, there, that noble fellow Collingwood,

How straight he helms his ship into the fire!--

Now you'll haste back to yours (to BLACKWOOD).

--We must henceforth

Trust to the Great Disposer of events,

And justice of our cause! . . .

[BLACKWOOD leaves. The battle grows hotter. A double-headed shot

cuts down seven or eight marines on the "Victory's" poop.]

Captain Adair, part those marines of yours,

And hasten to disperse them round the ship.--

Your place is down below, Burke, not up here;

Ah, yes; like David you would see the battle!

[A heavy discharge of musket-shot comes from the tops of the

"Santisima Trinidad. ADAIR and PASCO fall. Another swathe

of Marines is mowed down by chain-shot.]

SCOTT

My lord, I use to you the utmost prayers

That I have privilege to shape in words:

Remove your stars and orders, I would beg;

That shot was aimed at you.

NELSON

They were awarded to me as an honour,

And shall I do despite to those who prize me,

And slight their gifts? No, I will die with them,

If die I must.

[He walks up and down with HARDY.]

HARDY

At least let's put you on

Your old greatcoat, my lord--(the air is keen.).--

'Twill cover all. So while you still retain

Your dignities, you baulk these deadly aims

NELSON

Thank 'ee, good friend. But no,--I haven't time,

I do assure you--not a trice to spare,

As you well will see.

[A few minutes later SCOTT falls dead, a bullet having pierced

his skull. Immediately after a shot passes between the Admiral

and the Captain, tearing the instep of Hardy's shoe, and striking

away the buckle. They shake off the dust and splinters it has

scattered over them. NELSON glances round, and perceives what

has happened to his secretary.]

NELSON

Poor Scott, too, carried off! Warm work this, Hardy;

Too warm to go on long.

HARDY

I think so, too;

Their lower ports are blocked against our hull,

And our charge now is less. Each knock so near

Sets their old wood on fire.

NELSON

Ay, rotten as peat.

What's that? I think she has struck, or pretty nigh!

[A cracking of musketry.]

HARDY

Not yet.--Those small-arm men there, in her tops,

Thin our crew fearfully. Now, too, our guns

Have dipped full down, or they would rake

The "Temeraire" there on the other side.

NELSON

True.--While you deal good measure out to these,

Keep slapping at those giants over here--

The "Trinidad," I mean, and the "Bucentaure,"

To win'ard--swelling up so pompously.

HARDY

I'll see no slackness shall be shown that way.

[They part and go in their respective directions. Gunners, naked

to the waist and reeking with sweat, are now in swift action on

the several decks, and firemen carry buckets of water hither and

thither. The killed and wounded thicken around, and are being

lifted and examined by the surgeons. NELSON and HARDY meet again.]

NELSON

Bid still the firemen bring more bucketfuls,

And dash the water into each new hole

Our guns have gouged in the "Redoubtable,"

Or we shall all be set ablaze together.

HARDY

Let me once more advise, entreat, my lord,

That you do not expose yourself so clearly.

Those fellows in the mizzen-top up there

Are peppering round you quite perceptibly.

NELSON

Now, Hardy, don't offend me. They can't aim;

They only set their own rent sails on fire.--

But if they could, I would not hide a button

To save ten lives like mine. I have no cause

To prize it, I assure 'ee.--Ah, look there,

One of the women hit,--and badly, too.

Poor wench! Let some one shift her quickly down.

HARDY

My lord, each humblest sojourner on the seas,

Dock-labourer, lame longshore-man, bowed bargee,

Sees it as policy to shield his life

For those dependent on him. Much more, then,

Should one upon whose priceless presence here

Such issues hang, so many strivers lean,

Use average circumspection at an hour

So critical for us all.

NELSON

Ay, ay. Yes, yes;

I know your meaning, Hardy,; and I know

That you disguise as frigid policy

What really is your honest love of me.

But, faith, I have had my day. My work's nigh done;

I serve all interests best by chancing it

Here with the commonest.--Ah, their heavy guns

Are silenced every one! Thank God for that.

HARDY

'Tis so. They only use their small arms now.

[He goes to larboard to see what is progressing on that side

between his ship and the "Santisima Trinidad."]

OFFICER (to seaman)

Swab down these stairs. The mess of blood about

Makes 'em so slippery that one's like to fall

In carrying the wounded men below.

[While CAPTAIN HARDY is still a little way off, LORD NELSON turns

to walk aft, when a ball from one of the muskets in the mizzen-

top of the "Redoubtable" enters his left shoulder. He falls upon

his face on the deck. HARDY looks round, and sees what has

happened.]

HARDY (hastily)

Ah--what I feared, and strove to hide I feared! . . .

[He goes towards NELSON, who in the meantime has been lifted by

SERGEANT-MAJOR SECKER and two seamen.]

NELSON

Hardy, I think they've done for me at last!

HARDY

I hope not!

NELSON

Yes. My backbone is shot through.

I have not long to live.

[The men proceed to carry him below.]

Those tiller ropes

They've torn away, get instantly repaired!

[At sight of him borne along wounded there is great agitation

among the crew.]

Cover my face. There will be no good be done

By drawing their attention off to me.

Bear me along, good fellows; I am but one

Among the many darkened here to-day!

[He is carried on to the cockpit over the crowd of dead and

wounded.]

Doctor, I'm gone. I am waste o' time to you.

HARDY (remaining behind)

Hills, go to Collingwood and let him know

That we've no Admiral here.

[He passes on.]

A LIEUTENANT

Now quick and pick him off who did the deed--

That white-bloused man there in the mizzen-top.

POLLARD, a midshipman (shooting)

No sooner said than done. A pretty aim!

[The Frenchman falls dead upon the poop.

The spectacle seems now to become enveloped in smoke, and the

point of view changes.]

SCENE III

THE SAME. ON BOARD THE "BUCENTAURE"

[The bowsprit of the French Admiral's ship is stuck fast in the

stern-gallery of the "Santisima Trinidad," the starboard side of

the "Bucentaure" being shattered by shots from two English three-

deckers which are pounding her on that hand. The poop is also

reduced to ruin by two other English ships that are attacking

her from behind.

On the quarter-deck are ADMIRAL VILLENEUVE, the FLAG-CAPTAIN

MAGENDIE, LIEUTENANTS DAUDIGNON, FOURNIER, and others, anxiously

occupied. The whole crew is in desperate action of battle and

stumbling among the dead and dying, who have fallen too rapidly

to be carried below.]

VILLENEUVE

We shall be crushed if matters go on thus.--

Direct the "Trinidad" to let her drive,

That this foul tangle may be loosened clear!

DAUDIGNON

It has been tried, sir; but she cannot move.

VILLENEUVE

Then signal to the "Hero" that she strive

Once more to drop this way.

MAGENDIE

We may make signs,

But in the thickened air what signal's marked?--

'Tis done, however.

VILLENEUVE

The "Redoubtable"

And "Victory" there,--they grip in dying throes!

Something's amiss on board the English ship.

Surely the Admiral's fallen?

A PETTY OFFICER

Sir, they say

That he was shot some hour, or half, ago.--

With dandyism raised to godlike pitch

He stalked the deck in all his jewellery,

And so was hit.

MAGENDIE

Then Fortune shows her face!

We have scotched England in dispatching him. (He watches.)

Yes! He commands no more; and Lucas, joying,

Has taken steps to board. Look, spars are laid,

And his best men are mounting at his heels.

VILLENEUVE

Ah, God--he is too late! Whence came the hurl

Of heavy grape? The smoke prevents my seeing

But at brief whiles.--The boarding band has fallen,

Fallen almost to a man.--'Twas well assayed!

MAGENDIE

That's from their "Temeraire," whose vicious broadside

Has cleared poor Lucas' decks.

VILLENEUVE

And Lucas, too.

I see him no more there. His red planks show

Three hundred dead if one. Now for ourselves!

[Four of the English three-deckers have gradually closed round

the "Bucentaure," whose bowsprit still sticks fast in the gallery

of the "Santisima Trinidad." A broadside comes from one of the

English, resulting in worse havoc on the "Bucentaure." The main

and mizzen masts of the latter fall, and the boats are beaten to

pieces. A raking fire of musketry follows from the attacking

ships, to which the "Bucentaure" heroically continues still to

keep up a reply.

CAPTAIN MAGENDIE falls wounded. His place is taken by LIEUTENANT

DAUDIGNON.]

VILLENEUVE

Now that the fume has lessened, code my biddance

Upon our only mast, and tell the van

At once to wear, and come into the fire.

(Aside) If it be true that, as HE sneers, success

Demands of me but cool audacity,

To-day shall leave him nothing to desire!

[Musketry continues. DAUDIGNON falls. He is removed, his post

being taken by LIEUTENANT FOURNIER. Another crash comes, and

the deck is suddenly encumbered with rigging.]

FOURNIER

There goes our foremast! How for signalling now?

VILLENEUVE

To try that longer, Fournier, is in vain

Upon this haggard, scorched, and ravaged hulk,

Her decks all reeking with such gory shows,

Her starboard side in rents, her stern nigh gone!

How does she keep afloat?--

"Bucentaure," O lucky good old ship!

My part in you is played. Ay--I must go;

I must tempt Fate elsewhere,--if but a boat

Can bear me through this wreckage to the van.

FOURNIER

Our boats are stove in, or as full of holes

As the cook's skimmer, from their cursed balls!

[Musketry. VILLENEUVE'S Head-of-Staff, DE PRIGNY, falls wounded,

and many additional men. VILLENEUVE glances troublously from

ship to ship of his fleet.]

VILLENEUVE

How hideous are the waves, so pure this dawn!--

Red-frothed; and friends and foes all mixed therein.--

Can we in some way hail the "Trinidad"

And get a boat from her?

[They attempt to distract the attention of the "Santisima

Trinidad" by shouting.]

Impossible;

Amid the loud combustion of this strife

As well try holloing to the antipodes! . . .

So here I am. The bliss of Nelson's end

Will not be mine; his full refulgent eve

Becomes my midnight! Well; the fleets shall see

That I can yield my cause with dignity.

[The "Bucentaure" strikes her flag. A boat then puts off from the

English ship "Conqueror," and VILLENEUVE, having surrendered his

sword, is taken out from the "Bucentaure." But being unable to

regain her own ship, the boat is picked up by the "Mars," and

the French admiral is received aboard her. Point of view changes.]

SCENE IV

THE SAME. THE COCKPIT OF THE "VICTORY"

[A din of trampling and dragging overhead, which is accompanied

by a continuos ground-bass roar from the guns of the warring

fleets, culminating at times in loud concussions. The wounded

are lying around in rows for treatment, some groaning, some

silently dying, some dead. The gloomy atmosphere of the low-

beamed deck is pervaded by a thick haze of smoke, powdered wood,

and other dust, and is heavy with the fumes of gunpowder and

candle-grease, the odour of drugs and cordials, and the smell

from abdominal wounds.

NELSON, his face now pinched and wan with suffering, is lying

undressed in a midshipman's berth, dimly lit by a lantern. DR.

BEATTY, DR. MAGRATH, the Rev. DR. SCOTT the Chaplain, BURKE the

Purser, the Steward, and a few others stand around.]

MAGRATH (in a low voice)

Poor Ram, and poor Tom Whipple, have just gone..

BEATTY

There was no hope for them.

NELSON (brokenly)

Who have just died?

BEATTY

Two who were badly hit by now, my lord;

Lieutenant Ram and Mr. Whipple.

NELSON

Ah!

So many lives--in such a glorious cause. . . .

I join them soon, soon, soon!--O where is Hardy?

Will nobody bring Hardy to me--none?

He must be killed, too. Surely Hardy's dead?

A MIDSHIPMAN

He's coming soon, my lord. The constant call

On his full heed of this most mortal fight

Keeps him from hastening hither as he would.

NELSON

I'll wait, I'll wait. I should have thought of it.

[Presently HARDY comes down. NELSON and he grasp hands.]

Hardy, how goes the day with us and England?

HARDY

Well; very well, thank God for't, my dear lord.

Villeneuve their Admiral has this moment struck,

And put himself aboard the "Conqueror."

Some fourteen of their first-rates, or about,

Thus far we've got. The said "Bucentaure" chief:

The "Santa Ana," the "Redoubtable,"

The "Fougueux," the "Santisima Trinidad,"

"San Augustino, "San Francisco," "Aigle";

And our old "Swiftsure," too, we've grappled back,

To every seaman's joy. But now their van

Has tacked to bear round on the "Victory"

And crush her by sheer weight of wood and brass:

Three of our best I am therefore calling up,

And make no doubt of worsting theirs, and France.

NELSON

That's well. I swore for twenty.--But it's well.

HARDY

We'll have 'em yet! But without you, my lord,

We have to make slow plodding do the deeds

That sprung by inspiration ere you fell;

And on this ship the more particularly.

NELSON

No, Hardy.--Ever 'twas your settled fault

So modestly to whittle down your worth.

But I saw stuff in you which admirals need

When, taking thought, I chose the "Victory's" keel

To do my business with these braggarts in.

A business finished now, for me!--Good friend,

Slow shades are creeping me. . . I scarce see you.

HARDY

The smoke from ships upon our win'ard side,

And the dust raised by their worm-eaten hulks,

When our balls touch 'em, blind the eyes, in truth.

NELSON

No; it is not that dust; 'tis dust of death

That darkens me.

[A shock overhead. HARDY goes up. On or two other officers go up,

and by and by return.]

What was that extra noise?

OFFICER

The "Formidable' passed us by, my lord,

And thumped a stunning broadside into us.--

But, on their side, the "Hero's" captain's fallen;

The "Algeciras" has been boarded, too,

By Captain Tyler, and the captain shot:

Admiral Gravina desperately holds out;

They say he's lost an arm.

NELSON

And we, ourselves--

Who have we lost on board here? Nay, but tell me!

BEATTY

Besides poor Scott, my lord, and Charles Adair,

Lieutenant Ram, and Whipple, captain's clerk,

There's Smith, and Palmer, midshipmen, just killed.

And fifty odd of seamen and marines.

NELSON

Poor youngsters! Scarred old Nelson joins you soon.

BEATTY

And wounded: Bligh, lieutenant; Pasco, too,

and Reeves, and Peake, lieutenants of marines,

And Rivers, Westphall, Bulkeley, midshipmen,

With, of the crew, a hundred odd just now,

Unreckoning those late fallen not brought below.

BURKE

That fellow in the mizzen-top, my lord,

Who made it his affair to wing you thus,

We took good care to settle; and he fell

Like an old rook, smack from his perch, stone dead.

NELSON

'Twas not worth while!--He was, no doubt, a man

Who in simplicity and sheer good faith

Strove but to serve his country. Rest be to him!

And may his wife, his friends, his little ones,

If such be had, be tided through their loss,

And soothed amid the sorrow brought by me.

[HARDY re-enters.]

Who's that? Ah--here you come! How, Hardy, now?

HARDY

The Spanish Admiral's rumoured to be wounded,

We know not with what truth. But, be as 'twill,

He sheers away with all he could call round,

And some few frigates, straight to Cadiz port.

[A violent explosion is heard above the confused noises on deck.

A midshipman goes above and returns.]

MIDSHIPMAN (in the background)

It is the enemy's first-rate, the "Achille,"

Blown to a thousand atoms!--While on fire,

Before she burst, the captain's woman there,

Desperate for life, climbed from the gunroom port

Upon the rudder-chains; stripped herself stark,

And swam for the Pickle's boat. Our men in charge,

Seeing her great breasts bulging on the brine,

Sang out, "A mermaid 'tis, by God!"--then rowed

And hauled her in.--

BURKE

Such unbid sights obtrude

On death's dyed stage!

MIDSHIPMAN

Meantime the "Achille" fought on,

Even while the ship was blazing, knowing well

The fire must reach their powder; which it did.

The spot is covered now with floating men,

Some whole, the main in parts; arms, legs, trunks, heads,

Bobbing with tons of timber on the waves,

And splinter looped with entrails of the crew.

NELSON (rousing)

Our course will be to anchor. Let me know.

HARDY

But let me ask, my lord, as needs I must,

Seeing your state, and that our work's not done,

Shall I, from you, bid Admiral Collingwood

Take full on him the conduct of affairs?

NELSON (trying to raise himself)

Not while I live, I hope! No, Hardy; no.

Give Collingwood my order. Anchor all!

HARDY (hesitating)

You mean the signal's to be made forthwith?

NELSON

I do!--By God, if but our carpenter

Could rig me up a jury-backbone now,

To last one hour--until the battle's done,

I'd see to it! But here I am--stove in--

Broken--all logged and done for! Done, ay done!

BEATTY (returning from the other wounded)

My lord, I must implore you to lie calm!

You shorten what at best may not be long.

NELSON (exhausted)

I know, I know, good Beatty! Thank you well

Hardy, I was impatient. Now I am still.

Sit here a moment, if you have time to spare?

[BEATTY and others retire, and the two abide in silence, except

for the trampling overhead and the moans from adjoining berths.

NELSON is apparently in less pain, seeming to doze.]

NELSON (suddenly)

What are you thinking, that you speak no word?

HARDY (waking from a short reverie)

Thoughts all confused, my lord:--their needs on deck,

Your own sad state, and your unrivalled past;

Mixed up with flashes of old things afar--

Old childish things at home, down Wessex way.

In the snug village under Blackdon Hill

Where I was born. The tumbling stream, the garden,

The placid look of the grey dial there,

Marking unconsciously this bloody hour,

And the red apples on my father's trees,

Just now full ripe.

NELSON

Ay, thus do little things

Steal into my mind, too. But ah, my heart

Knows not your calm philosophy!--There's one--

Come nearer to me, Hardy.--One of all,

As you well guess, pervades my memory now;

She, and my daughter--I speak freely to you.

'Twas good I made that codicil this morning

That you and Blackwood witnessed. Now she rests

Safe on the nation's honour. . . . Let her have

My hair, and the small treasured things I owned,

And take care of her, as you care for me!

[HARDY promises.]

NELSON (resuming in a murmur)

Does love die with our frame's decease, I wonder,

Or does it live on ever? . . .

[A silence. BEATTY approaches.]

HARDY

Now I'll leave,

See if your order's gone, and then return.

NELSON (symptoms of death beginning to change his face)

Yes, Hardy; yes; I know it. You must go.--

Here we shall meet no more; since Heaven forfend

That care for me should keep you idle now,

When all the ship demands you. Beatty, too.

Go to the others who lie bleeding there;

Them can you aid. Me you can render none!

My time here is the briefest.--If I live

But long enough I'll anchor. . . . But--too late--

My anchoring's elsewhere ordered! . . . Kiss me, Hardy:

[HARDY bends over him.]

I'm satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty!

[HARDY brushes his eyes with his hand, and withdraws to go above,

pausing to look back before he finally disappears.]

BEATTY (watching Nelson)

Ah!--Hush around! . . .

He's sinking. It is but a trifle now

Of minutes with him. Stand you, please, aside,

And give him air.

[BEATTY, the Chaplain, MAGRATH, the Steward, and attendants

continue to regard NELSON. BEATTY looks at his watch.]

BEATTY

Two hours and fifty minutes since he fell,

And now he's going.

[They wait. NELSON dies.]

CHAPLAIN

Yes. . . . He has homed to where

There's no more sea.

BEATTY

We'll let the Captain know,

Who will confer with Collingwood at once.

I must now turn to these.

[He goes to another part of the cockpit, a midshipman ascends to

the deck, and the scene overclouds.]

CHORUS OF THE PITIES (aerial music)

His thread was cut too slowly! When he fell.

And bade his fame farewell,

He might have passed, and shunned his long-drawn pain,

Endured in vain, in vain!

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Young Spirits, be not critical of That

Which was before, and shall be after you!

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

But out of tune the Mode and meritless

That quickens sense in shapes whom, thou hast said,

Necessitation sways! A life there was

Among these self-same frail ones--Sophocles--

Who visioned it too clearly, even while

He dubbed the Will "the gods." Truly said he,

"Such gross injustice to their own creation

Burdens the time with mournfulness for us,

And for themselves with shame."(9)--Things mechanized

By coils and pivots set to foreframed codes

Would, in a thorough-sphered melodic rule,

And governance of sweet consistency,

Be cessed no pain, whose burnings would abide

With That Which holds responsibility,

Or inexist.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Yea, yea, yea!

Thus would the Mover pay

The score each puppet owes,

The Reaper reap what his contrivance sows!

Why make Life debtor when it did not buy?

Why wound so keenly Right that it would die?

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Nay, blame not! For what judgment can ye blame?--

In that immense unweeting Mind is shown

One far above forethinking; processive,

Yet superconscious; a Clairvoyancy

That knows not what It knows, yet works therewith.--

The cognizance ye mourn, Life's doom to feel,

If I report it meetly, came unmeant,

Emerging with blind gropes from impercipience

By listless sequence--luckless, tragic Chance,

In your more human tongue.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

And hence unneeded

In the economy of Vitality,

Which might have ever kept a sealed cognition

As doth the Will Itself.

CHORUS OF THE YEARS (aerial music)

Nay, nay, nay;

Your hasty judgments stay,

Until the topmost cyme

Have crowned the last entablature of Time.

O heap not blame on that in-brooding Will;

O pause, till all things all their days fulfil!

SCENE V

LONDON. THE GUILDHALL

[A crowd of citizens has gathered outside to watch the carriages

as they drive up and deposit guests invited to the Lord Mayor's

banquet, for which event the hall is brilliantly lit within. A

cheer rises when the equipage of any popular personage arrives

at the door.

FIRST CITIZEN

Well, well! Nelson is the man who ought to have been banqueted

to-night. But he is coming to Town in a coach different from these.!

SECOND CITIZEN

Will they bring his poor splintered body home?

FIRST CITIZEN

Yes. They say he's to be tombed in marble, at St. Paul's or

Westminster. We shall see him if he lays in state. It will

make a patriotic spectacle for a fine day.

BOY

How can you see a dead man, father, after so long?

FIRST CITIZEN

They'll embalm him, my boy, as they did all the great Egyptian

admirals.

BOY

His lady will be handy for that, won't she?

FIRST CITIZEN

Don't ye ask awkward questions.

SECOND CITIZEN

Here's another coming!

FIRST CITIZEN

That's my Lord Chancellor Eldon. Wot he'll say, and wot he'll look!

Mr. Pitt will be here soon.

BOY

I don't like Billy. He killed Uncle John's parrot.

SECOND CITIZEN

How may ye make that out, youngster?

BOY

Mr. Pitt made the war, and the war made us want sailors; and Uncle

John went for a walk down Wapping High Street to talk to the pretty

ladies one evening; and there was a press all along the river that

night--a regular hot one--and Uncle John was carried on board a

man-of-war to fight under Nelson; and nobody minded Uncle John's

parrot, and it talked itself to death. So Mr. Pitt killed Uncle

John's parrot; see it, sir?

SECOND CITIZEN

You had better have a care of this boy, friend. His brain is too

precious for the common risks of Cheapside. Not but what he might

as well have said Boney killed the parrot when he was about it.

And as for Nelson--who's now sailing shinier seas than ours, if

they've rubbed Her off his slate where he's gone to,--the French

papers say that our loss in him is greater than our gain in ships;

so that logically the victory is theirs. Gad, sir, it's almost

true!

[A hurrahing is heard from Cheapside, and the crowd in that

direction begins to hustle and show excitement.]

FIRST CITIZEN

He's coming, he's coming! Here, let me lift you up, my boy.-- Why,

they have taken out the horses, as I am man alive!

SECOND CITIZEN

Pitt for ever!--Why, here's a blade opening and shutting his mouth

like the rest, but never a sound does he raise!

THIRD CITIZEN

I've not too much breath to carry me through my day's work, so I

can't afford to waste it in such luxuries as crying Hurrah to

aristocrats. If ye was ten yards off y'd think I was shouting

as loud as any.

SECOND CITIZEN

It's a very mean practice of ye to husband yourself at such a time,

and gape in dumbshow like a frog in Plaistow Marshes.

THIRD CITIZEN

No, sir; it's economy; a very necessary instinct in these days of

ghastly taxations to pay half the armies in Europe! In short, in

the word of the Ancients, it is scarcely compass-mentas to do

otherwise! Somebody must save something, or the country will be

as bankrupt as Mr. Pitt himself is, by all account; though he

don't look it just now.

[PITT's coach passes, drawn by a troop of running men and boy.

The Prime Minister is seen within, a thin, erect, up-nosed

figure, with a flush of excitement on his usually pale face.

The vehicle reached the doorway to the Guildhall and halts with

a jolt. PITT gets out shakily, and amid cheers enters the

building.]

FOURTH CITIZEN

Quite a triumphal entry. Such is power;

Now worshipped, now accursed! The overthrow

Of all Pitt's European policy

When his hired army and his chosen general

Surrendered them at Ulm a month ago,

Is now forgotten! Ay; this Trafalgar

Will botch up many a ragged old repute,

Make Nelson figure as domestic saint

No less than country's saviour, Pitt exalt

As zenith-star of England's firmament,

And uncurse all the bogglers of her weal

At this adventurous time.

THIRD CITIZEN

Talk of Pitt being ill. He looks hearty as a buck.

FIRST CITIZEN

It's the news--no more. His spirits are up like a rocket for the

moment.

BOY

Is it because Trafalgar is near Portugal that he loves Port wine?

SECOND CITIZEN

Ah, as I said, friend; this boy must go home and be carefully put

to bed!

FIRST CITIZEN

Well, whatever William's faults, it is a triumph for his virtues

to-night!

[PITT having disappeared, the Guildhall doors are closed, and

the crowd slowly disperses, till in the course of an hour the

street shows itself empty and dark, only a few oil lamps burning.

The SCENE OPENS, revealing the interior of the Guildhall, and

the brilliant assembly of City magnates, Lords, and Ministers

seated there, Mr. PITT occupying a chair of honour by the Lord

Mayor. His health has been proposed as that of the Saviour of

England, and drunk with acclamations.]

PITT (standing up after repeated calls)

My lords and gentlemen:--You have toasted me

As one who has saved England and her cause.

I thank you, gentlemen, unfeignedly.

But--no man has saved England, let me say:

England has saved herself, by her exertions:

She will, I trust, save Europe by her example!

[Loud applause, during which he sits down, rises, and sits down

again. The scene then shuts, and the night without has place.]

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Those words of this man Pitt--his last large words,

As I may prophesy--that ring to-night

In their first mintage to the feasters here,

Will spread with ageing, lodge, and crystallize,

And stand embedded in the English tongue

Till it grow thin, outworn, and cease to be.--

So is't ordained by That Which all ordains;

For words were never winged with apter grace.

Or blent with happier choice of time and place,

To hold the imagination of this strenuous race.

SCENE VI(10)

AN INN AT RENNES

[Night. A sleeping-chamber. Two candles are burning near a bed

in an alcove, and writing-materials are on the table.

The French admiral, VILLENEUVE, partly undressed, is pacing up

and down the room.]

VILLENEUVE

These hauntings have at last nigh proved to me

That this thing must be done. Illustrious foe

And teacher, Nelson: blest and over blest

In thy outgoing at the noon of strife

When glory clasped thee round; while wayward Death

Refused my coaxings for the like-timed call!

Yet I did press where thickest missiles fell,

And both by precept and example showed

Where lay the line of duty, patriotism,

And honour, in that combat of despair.

[He see himself in the glass as he passes.]

Unfortunate Villeneuve!--whom fate has marked

To suffer for too firm a faithfulness.--

An Emperor's chide is a command to die.--

By him accursed, forsaken by my friend,

Awhile stern England's prisoner, then unloosed

Like some poor dolt unworth captivity,

Time serves me now for ceasing. Why not cease? . . .

When, as Shades whisper in the chasmal night,

"Better, far better, no percipience here."--

O happy lack, that I should have no child

To come into my hideous heritage,

And groan beneath the burden of my name!(11)

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

I'll speak. His mood is ripe for such a parle.

(Sending a voice into VILLENEUVE'S ear.)

Thou dost divine the hour!

VILLENEUVE

But those stern Nays,

That heretofore were audible to me

At each unhappy time I strove to pass?

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Have been annulled. The Will grants exit freely;

Yea, It says "Now." Therefore make now thy time.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

May his sad sunken soul merge into nought

Meekly and gently as a breeze at eve!

VILLENEUVE

From skies above me and the air around

Those callings which so long have circled me

At last do whisper "Now." Now it shall be!

[He seals a letter, and addresses it to his wife; then takes a

dagger from his accoutrements that are hanging alongside, and,

lying down upon his back on the bed, stabs himself determinedly

in many places, leaving the weapon in the last wound.]

Ungrateful master; generous foes; Farewell!

[VILLENEUVE dies; and the scene darkens.]

SCENE VII

KING GEORGE'S WATERING-PLACE, SOUTH WESSEX

[The interior of the "Old Rooms" Inn. Boatmen and burghers are

sitting on settles round the fire, smoking and drinking.

FIRST BURGHER

So they've brought him home at last, hey? And he's to be solemnized

with a roaring funeral?

FIRST BOATMAN

Yes, thank God. . . . 'Tis better to lie dry than wet, if canst do it

without stinking on the road gravewards. And they took care that he

shouldn't.

SECOND BOATMAN

'Tis to be at Paul's; so they say that know. And the crew of the

"Victory" have to walk in front, and Captain Hardy is to carry his

stars and garters on a great velvet pincushion.

FIRST BURGHER

Where's the Captain now?

SECOND BOATMAN (nodding in the direction of Captain Hardy's house)

Down at home here biding with his own folk a bit. I zid en walking

with them on the Esplanade yesterday. He looks ten years older than

he did when he went. Ay--he brought the galliant hero home!

SECOND BURGHER

Now how did they bring him home so that he could lie in state

afterwards to the naked eye!

FIRST BOATMAN

Well, as they always do,--in a cask of sperrits.

SECOND BURGHER

Really, now!

FIRST BOATMAN (lowering his voice)

But what happened was this. They were a long time coming, owing to

contrary winds, and the "Victory" being little more than a wreck.

And grog ran short, because they'd used near all they had to peckle

his body in. So--they broached the Adm'l!

SECOND BURGHER

How?

FIRST BOATMAN

Well; the plain calendar of it is, that when he came to be unhooped,

it was found that the crew had drunk him dry. What was the men to

do? Broke down by the battle, and hardly able to keep afloat, 'twas

a most defendable thing, and it fairly saved their lives. So he was

their salvation after death as he had been in the fight. If he

could have knowed it, 'twould have pleased him down to the ground!

How 'a would have laughed through the spigot-hole: "Draw on, my

hearties! Better I shrivel that you famish." Ha-ha!

SECOND BURGHER

It may be defendable afloat; but it seems queer ashore.

FIRST BOATMAN

Well, that's as I had it from one that knows--Bob Loveday of

Overcombe--one of the "Victory" men that's going to walk in the

funeral. However, let's touch a livelier string. Peter Green,

strike up that new ballet that they've lately had prented here,

and were hawking about town last market-day.

SONG

THE NIGHT OF TRAFALGAR

I

In the wild October night-time, when the wind raved round the land,

And the Back-sea(12) met the Front-sea, and our doors were blocked

with sand,

And we heard the drub of Dead-man's Bay, where bones of thousands are,

We knew not what the day had done for us at Trafalgar.

(All) Had done,

Had done,

For us at Trafalgar!

II

"Pull hard, and make the Nothe, or down we go!" one says, says he.

We pulled; and bedtime brought the storm; but snug at home slept we.

Yet all the while our gallants after fighting through the day,

Were beating up and down the dark, sou'-west of Cadiz Bay.

The dark,

The dark,

Sou'-west of Cadiz Bay!

III

The victors and the vanquished then the storm it tossed and tore,

As hard they strove, those worn-out men, upon that surly shore;

Dead Nelson and his half-dead crew, his foes from near and far,

Were rolled together on the deep that night at Trafalgar!

The deep,

The deep,

That night at Trafalgar!

[The Cloud-curtain draws.]

CHORUS OF THE YEARS

Meanwhile the month moves on to counter-deeds

Vast as the vainest needs,

And fiercely the predestined plot proceeds.

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.