Part 25
TCHAPLITZ, of TCHICHAGOFF'S division, has meanwhile got round by the old bridge at Borissow to the French side of the new one, and attacks OUDINOT; but he is repulsed with the strength of despair. The French lose a further five thousand in this.
We now look across the river at VICTOR, and his division, not yet over, and still defending the new bridges. WITTGENSTEIN descends upon him; but he holds his ground.
The determined Russians set up a battery of twelve cannon, so as to command the two new bridges, with the confused crowd of soldiers, carriages, and baggage, pressing to cross. The battery discharges into the surging multitude. More Russians come up, and, forming a semicircle round the bridges and the mass of French, fire yet more hotly on them with round shot and canister. As it gets dark the flashes light up the strained faces of the fugitives. Under the discharge and the weight of traffic, the bridge for the artillery gives way, and the throngs upon it roll shrieking into the stream and are drowned.
SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES [aerial music]
So loudly swell their shrieks as to be heard above the roar of guns and the wailful wind, Giving in one brief cry their last wild word on that mock life through which they have harlequined!
SEMICHORUS II
To the other bridge the living heap betakes itself, the weak pushed over by the strong; They loop together by their clutch like snakes; in knots they are submerged and borne along.
CHORUS
Then women are seen in the waterflow--limply bearing their infants between wizened white arms stretching above; Yea, motherhood, sheerly sublime in her last despairing, and lighting her darkest declension with limitless love.
Meanwhile, TCHICHAGOFF has come up with his twenty-seven thousand men, and falls on OUDINOT, NEY, and the “Sacred Squadron.” Altogether we see forty or fifty thousand assailing eighteen thousand half-naked, badly armed wretches, emaciated with hunger and encumbered with several thousands of sick, wounded, and stragglers.
VICTOR and his rear-guard, who have protected the bridges all day, come over themselves at last. No sooner have they done so than the final bridge is set on fire. Those who are upon it burn or drown; those who are on the further side have lost their last chance, and perish either in attempting to wade the stream or at the hands of the Russians.
SEMICHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music]
What will be seen in the morning light? What will be learnt when the spring breaks bright, And the frost unlocks to the sun's soft sight?
SEMICHORUS II
Death in a thousand motley forms; Charred corpses hooking each other's arms In the sleep that defies all war's alarms!
CHORUS
Pale cysts of souls in every stage, Still bent to embraces of love or rage,-- Souls passed to where History pens no page.
The flames of the burning bridge go out as it consumes to the water's edge, and darkness mantles all, nothing continuing but the purl of the river and the clickings of floating ice.
## SCENE XI
THE OPEN COUNTRY BETWEEN SMORGONI AND WILNA
[The winter is more merciless, and snow continues to fall upon a deserted expanse of unenclosed land in Lithuania. Some scattered birch bushes merge in a forest in the background.
It is growing dark, though nothing distinguishes where the sun sets. There is no sound except that of a shuffling of feet in the direction of a bivouac. Here are gathered tattered men like skeletons. Their noses and ears are frost-bitten, and pus is oozing from their eyes.
These stricken shades in a limbo of gloom are among the last survivors of the French army. Few of them carry arms. One squad, ploughing through snow above their knees, and with icicles dangling from their hair that clink like glass-lustres as they walk, go into the birch wood, and are heard chopping. They bring back boughs, with which they make a screen on the windward side, and contrive to light a fire. With their swords they cut rashers from a dead horse, and grill them in the flames, using gunpowder for salt to eat them with. Two others return from a search, with a dead rat and some candle-ends. Their meal shared, some try to repair their gaping shoes and to tie up their feet, that are chilblained to the bone.
A straggler enters, who whispers to one or two soldiers of the group. A shudder runs through them at his words.]
FIRST SOLDIER [dazed]
What--gone, do you say? Gone?
STRAGGLER
Yes, I say gone! He left us at Smorgoni hours ago. The Sacred Squadron even he has left behind. By this time he's at Warsaw or beyond, Full pace for Paris.
SECOND SOLDIER [jumping up wildly]
Gone? How did he go? No, surely! He could not desert us so!
STRAGGLER
He started in a carriage, with Roustan The Mameluke on the box: Caulaincourt, too, Was inside with him. Monton and Duroc Rode on a sledge behind.--The order bade That we should not be told it for a while.
[Other soldiers spring up as they realize the news, and stamp hither and thither, impotent with rage, grief, and despair, many in their physical weakness sobbing like children.]
SPIRIT SINISTER
Good. It is the selfish and unconscionable characters who are so much regretted.
STRAGGLER
He felt, or feigned, he ought to leave no longer A land like Prussia 'twixt himself and home. There was great need for him to go, he said, To quiet France, and raise another army That shall replace our bones.
SEVERAL [distractedly]
Deserted us! Deserted us!--O, after all our pangs We shall see France no more!
[Some become insane, and go dancing round. One of them sings.]
MAD SOLDIER'S SONG
I Ha, for the snow and hoar! Ho, for our fortune's made! We can shape our bed without sheets to spread, And our graves without a spade. So foolish Life adieu, And ingrate Leader too. --Ah, but we loved you true! Yet--he-he-he! and ho-ho-ho-!-- We'll never return to you.
II
What can we wish for more? Thanks to the frost and flood We are grinning crones--thin bags of bones Who once were flesh and blood. So foolish Life adieu, And ingrate Leader too. --Ah, but we loved you true! Yet--he-he-he! and ho-ho-ho!-- We'll never return to you.
[Exhausted, they again crouch round the fire. Officers and privates press together for warmth. Other stragglers arrive, and sit at the backs of the first. With the progress of the night the stars come out in unusual brilliancy, Sirius and those in Orion flashing like stilettos; and the frost stiffens.
The fire sinks and goes out; but the Frenchmen do not move. The day dawns, and still they sit on.
In the background enter some light horse of the Russian army, followed by KUTUZOF himself and a few of his staff. He presents a terrible appearance now--bravely serving though slowly dying, his face puffed with the intense cold, his one eye staring out as he sits in a heap in the saddle, his head sunk into his shoulders. The whole detachment pauses at the sight of the French asleep. They shout; but the bivouackers give no sign.
KUTUZOF
Go, stir them up! We slay not sleeping men.
[The Russians advance and prod the French with their lances.]
RUSSIAN OFFICER
Prince, here's a curious picture. They are dead.
KUTUZOF [with indifference]
Oh, naturally. After the snow was down I marked a sharpening of the air last night. We shall be stumbling on such frost-baked meat Most of the way to Wilna.
OFFICER [examining the bodies]
They all sit As they were living still, but stiff as horns; And even the colour has not left their cheeks, Whereon the tears remain in strings of ice.-- It was a marvel they were not consumed: Their clothes are cindered by the fire in front, While at their back the frost has caked them hard.
KUTUZOF
'Tis well. So perish Russia's enemies!
[Exeunt KUTUZOF, his staff, and the detachment of horse in the direction of Wilna; and with the advance of day the snow resumes its fall, slowly burying the dead bivouackers.]
## SCENE XII
PARIS. THE TUILERIES
[An antechamber to the EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE'S bedroom, at half-past eleven on a December night. The DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO and another lady-in-waiting are discovered talking to the Empress.]
MARIE LOUISE
I have felt unapt for anything to-night, And I will now retire.
[She goes into her child's room adjoining.]
DUCHESS OF MONTEBELLO
For some long while There has come no letter from the Emperor, And Paris brims with ghastly rumourings About the far campaign. Not being beloved, The town is over dull for her alone.
[Re-enter MARIE LOUISE.]
MARIE LOUISE
The King of Rome is sleeping in his cot Sweetly and safe. Now, ladies, I am going.
[She withdraws. Her tiring-women pass through into her chamber. They presently return and go out. A manservant enters, and bars the window-shutters with numerous bolts. Exit manservant. The Duchess retires. The other lady-in-waiting rises to go into her bedroom, which adjoins that of the Empress.
Men's voices are suddenly heard in the corridor without. The lady- in-waiting pauses with parted lips. The voices grow louder. The lady-in-waiting screams.
MARIE LOUISE hastily re-enters in a dressing-gown thrown over her night-clothes.]
MARIE LOUISE
Great God, what altercation can that be? I had just verged on sleep when it aroused me!
[A thumping is heard at the door.]
VOICE OF NAPOLEON [without]
Hola! Pray let me in! Unlock the door!
LADY-IN-WAITING
Heaven's mercy on us! What man may it be At such and hour as this?
MARIE LOUISE
O it is he!
[The lady-in-waiting unlocks the door. NAPOLEON enters, scarcely recognizable, in a fur cloak and hood over his ears. He throws off the cloak and discloses himself to be in the shabbiest and muddiest attire. Marie Louise is agitated almost to fainting.]
SPIRIT IRONIC
Is it with fright or joy?
MARIE LOUISE
I scarce believe What my sight tells me! Home, and in such garb!
[NAPOLEON embraces her.]
NAPOLEON
I have had great work in getting in, my dear! They failed to recognize me at the gates, Being sceptical at my poor hackney-coach And poorer baggage. I had to show my face In a fierce light ere they would let me pass, And even then they doubted till I spoke.-- What think you, dear, of such a tramp-like spouse? [He warms his hands at the fire.] Ha--it is much more comfortable here Than on the Russian plains!
MARIE LOUISE [timidly]
You have suffered there?-- Your face is thinner, and has line in it; No marvel that they did not know you!
NAPOLEON
Yes: Disasters many and swift have swooped on me!-- Since crossing--ugh!--the Beresina River I have been compelled to come incognito; Ay--as a fugitive and outlaw quite.
MARIE LOUISE
We'll thank Heaven, anyhow, that you are safe. I had gone to bed, and everybody almost! what, now, do require? Some food of course?
[The child in the adjoining chamber begins to cry, awakened by the loud tones of NAPOLEON.]
NAPOLEON
Ah--that's his little voice! I'll in and see him.
MARIE LOUISE
I'll come with you.
[NAPOLEON and the EMPRESS pass into the other room. The lady-in- waiting calls up yawning servants and gives orders. The servants go to execute them. Re-enter NAPOLEON and MARIE LOUISE. The lady- in-waiting goes out.]
NAPOLEON
I have said it, dear! All the disasters summed in the bulletin Shall be repaired.
MARIE LOUISE
And are they terrible?
NAPOLEON
Have you not read the last-sent bulletin, Dear friend?
MARIE LOUISE
No recent bulletin has come.
NAPOLEON
Ah--I must have outstripped it on the way!
MARIE LOUISE
And where is the Grand Army?
NAPOLEON
Oh--that's gone.
MARIE LOUISE
Gone? But--gone where?
NAPOLEON
Gone all to nothing, dear.
MARIE LOUISE [incredulously]
But some six hundred thousand I saw pass Through Dresden Russia-wards?
NAPOLEON [flinging himself into a chair]
Well, those men lie-- Or most of them--in layers of bleaching bones 'Twixt here and Moscow.... I have been subdued; But by the elements; and them alone. Not Russia, but God's sky has conquered me! [With an appalled look she sits beside him.] From the sublime to the ridiculous There's but a step!--I have been saying it All through the leagues of my long journey home-- And that step has been passed in this affair!... Yes, briefly, it is quite ridiculous, Whichever way you look at it.--Ha, ha!
MARIE LOUISE [simply]
But those six hundred thousand throbbing throats That cheered me deaf at Dresden, marching east So full of youth and spirits--all bleached bones-- Ridiculous? Can it be so, dear, to-- Their mothers say?
NAPOLEON [with a twitch of displeasure]
You scarcely understand. I meant the enterprise, and not its stuff.... I had no wish to fight, nor Alexander, But circumstance impaled us each on each; The Genius who outshapes my destinies Did all the rest! Had I but hit success, Imperial splendour would have worn a crown Unmatched in long-scrolled Time!... Well, leave that now.-- What do they know about all this in Paris?
MARIE LOUSE
I cannot say. Black rumours fly and croak Like ravens through the streets, but come to me Thinned to the vague!--Occurrences in Spain Breed much disquiet with these other things. Marmont's defeat at Salamanca field Ploughed deep into men's brows. The cafes say Your troops must clear from Spain.
NAPOLEON
We'll see to that! I'll find a way to do a better thing; Though I must have another army first-- Three hundred thousand quite. Fishes as good Swim in the sea as have come out of it. But to begin, we must make sure of France, Disclose ourselves to the good folk of Paris In daily outing as a family group, The type and model of domestic bliss [Which, by the way, we are]. And I intend, Also, to gild the dome of the Invalides In best gold leaf, and on a novel pattern.
MARIE LOUISE
To gild the dome, dear? Why?
NAPOLEON
To give them something To think about. They'll take to it like children, And argue in the cafes right and left On its artistic points.--So they'll forget The woes of Moscow.
[A chamberlain-in-waiting announces supper. MARIE LOUISE and NAPOLEON go out. The room darkens and the scene closes.]
ACT SECOND
## SCENE I
THE PLAIN OF VITORIA
[It is the eve of the longest day of the year; also the eve of the battle of Vitoria. The English army in the Peninsula, and their Spanish and Portuguese allies, are bivouacking on the western side of the Plain, about six miles from the town.
On some high ground in the left mid-distance may be discerned the MARQUIS OF WELLINGTON'S tent, with GENERALS HILL, PICTON, PONSONBY, GRAHAM, and others of his staff, going in and out in consultation on the momentous event impending. Near the foreground are some hussars sitting round a fire, the evening being damp; their horses are picketed behind. In the immediate front of the scene are some troop-officers talking.]
FIRST OFFICER
This grateful rest of four-and-twenty hours Is priceless for our jaded soldiery; And we have reconnoitred largely, too; So the slow day will not have slipped in vain.
SECOND OFFICER [looking towards the headquarter tent]
By this time they must nearly have dotted down The methods of our master-stroke to-morrow: I have no clear conception of its plan, Even in its leading lines. What is decided?
FIRST OFFICER
There are outshaping three supreme attacks, As I decipher. Graham's on the left, To compass which he crosses the Zadorra, And turns the enemy's right. On our right, Hill Will start at once to storm the Puebla crests. The Chief himself, with us here in the centre, Will lead on by the bridges Tres-Puentes Over the ridge there, and the Mendoza bridge A little further up.--That's roughly it; But much and wide discretionary power Is left the generals all.
[The officers walk away, and the stillness increases, so the conversation at the hussars' bivouac, a few yards further back, becomes noticeable.]
SERGEANT YOUNG[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