Part 8
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.
ACT SIXTH
## SCENE I
THE FIELD OF AUSTERLITZ. THE FRENCH POSITION
[The night is the 1st of December following, and the eve of the battle. The view is from the elevated position of the Emperor's bivouac. The air cuts keen and the sky glistens with stars, but the lower levels are covered with a white fog stretching like a sea, from which the heights protrude as dusky rocks.
To the left are discernible high and wooded hills. In the front mid-distance the plateau of Pratzen outstands, declining suddenly on the right to a low flat country covered with marshes and pools now mostly obscured. On the plateau itself are seen innumerable and varying lights, marking the bivouac of the centre divisions of the Austro-Russian army. Close to the foreground the fires of the French are burning, surrounded by soldiery. The invisible presence of the countless thousand of massed humanity that compose the two armies makes itself felt indefinably.
The tent of NAPOLEON rises nearest at hand, with sentinel and other military figures looming around, and saddled horses held by attendants. The accents of the Emperor are audible, through the canvas from inside, dictating a proclamation.]
VOICE OF NAPOLEON
“Soldiers, the hordes of Muscovy now face you, To mend the Austrian overthrow at Ulm! But how so? Are not these the self-same bands You met and swept aside at Hollabrunn, And whose retreating forms, dismayed to flight, Your feet pursued along the trackways here?
“Our own position, massed and menacing, Is rich in chance for opportune attack; For, say they march to cross and turn our right-- A course almost at their need--their stretching flank Will offer us, from points now prearranged---”
VOICE OF A MARSHAL
Shows it, your Majesty, the wariness That marks your usual far-eye policy, To openly announce your tactics thus Some twelve hours ere their form can actualize?
THE VOICE OF NAPOLEON
The zest such knowledge will impart to all Is worth the risk of leakages. [To Secretary] Write on.
[Dictation resumed]
“Soldiers, your sections I myself shall lead; But ease your minds who would expostulate Against my undue rashness. If your zeal Sow hot confusion in the hostile files As your old manner is, and in our rush We mingle with our foes, I'll use fit care. Nevertheless, should issues stand at pause But for a wink-while, that time you will eye Your Emperor the foremost in the shock, Taking his risk with every ranksman here. For victory, men, must be no thing surmised, As that which may or may not beam on us, Like noontide sunshine on a dubious morn; It must be sure!--The honour and the fame Of France's gay and gallant infantry-- So dear, so cherished all the Empire through-- Binds us to compass it! Maintain the ranks; Let none be thinned by impulse or excuse Of bearing back the wounded: and, in fine, Be every one in this conviction firm:-- That 'tis our sacred bond to overthrow These hirelings of a country not their own: Yea, England's hirelings, they!--a realm stiff-steeled In deathless hatred of our land and lives.
“The campaign closes with this victory; And we return to find our standards joined By vast young armies forming now in France. Forthwith resistless, Peace establish we, Worthy of you, the nation, and of me!” “NAPOLEON.” [To his Marshals]
So shall we prostrate these paid slaves of hers-- England's, I mean--the root of all the war.
VOICE OF MURAT
The further details sent of Trafalgar Are not assuring.
VOICE OF LANNES
What may the details be?
VOICE OF NAPOLEON [moodily]
We learn that six-and-twenty ships of war, During the fight and after, struck their flags, And that the tigerish gale throughout the night Gave fearful finish to the English rage. By luck their Nelson's gone, but gone withal Are twenty thousand prisoners, taken off To gnaw their finger-nails in British hulks. Of our vast squadrons of the summer-time But rags and splintered remnants now remain.-- Thuswise Villeneuve, poor craven, quitted him! And England puffed to yet more bombastry. --Well, well; I can't be everywhere. No matter; A victory's brewing here as counterpoise! These water-rats may paddle in their salt slush, And welcome. 'Tis not long they'll have the lead. Ships can be wrecked by land!
ANOTHER VOICE
And how by land, Your Majesty, if one may query such?
VOICE OF NAPOLEON [sardonically]
I'll bid all states of Europe shut their ports To England's arrogant bottoms, slowly starve Her bloated revenues and monstrous trade, Till all her hulls lie sodden in their docks, And her grey island eyes in vain shall seek One jack of hers upon the ocean plains!
VOICE OF SOULT
A few more master-strokes, your Majesty, Must be dealt hereabout to compass such!
VOICE OF NAPOLEON
God, yes!--Even here Pitt's guineas are the foes: 'Tis all a duel 'twixt this Pitt and me; And, more than Russia's host, and Austria's flower, I everywhere to-night around me feel As from an unseen monster haunting nigh His country's hostile breath!--But come: to choke it By our to-morrow's feats, which now, in brief, I recapitulate.--First Soult will move To forward the grand project of the day: Namely: ascend in echelon, right to front, With Vandamme's men, and those of Saint Hilaire: Legrand's division somewhere further back-- Nearly whereat I place my finger here-- To be there reinforced by tirailleurs: Lannes to the left here, on the Olmutz road, Supported by Murat's whole cavalry. While in reserve, here, are the grenadiers Of Oudinot, the corps of Bernadotte, Rivaud, Drouet, and the Imperial Guard.
MARSHAL'S VOICES
Even as we understood, Sire, and have ordered. Nought lags but day, to light our victory!
VOICE OF NAPOLEON
Now let us up and ride the bivouacs round, And note positions ere the soldiers sleep. --Omit not from to-morrow's home dispatch Direction that this blow of Trafalgar Be hushed in all the news-sheets sold in France, Or, if reported, let it be portrayed As a rash fight whereout we came not worst, But were so broken by the boisterous eve That England claims to be the conqueror.
[There emerge from the tent NAPOLEON and the marshals, who all mount the horses that are led up, and proceed through the frost and time towards the bivouacs. At the Emperor's approach to the nearest soldiery they spring up.]
SOLDIERS
The Emperor! He's here! The Emperor's here!
AN OLD GRENADIER [approaching Napoleon familiarly]
We'll bring thee Russian guns and flags galore. To celebrate thy coronation-day!
[They gather into wisps the straw, hay, and other litter on which they have been lying, and kindling these at the dying fires, wave them as torches. This is repeated as each fire is reached, till the whole French position is one wide illumination. The most enthusiastic of the soldiers follow the Emperor in a throng as he progresses, and his whereabouts in the vast field is denoted by their cries.]
CHORUS OF PITIES [aerial music]
Strange suasive pull of personality!
CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS
His projects they unknow, his grin unsee!
CHORUS OF THE PITIES
Their luckless hearts say blindly--He!
[The night-shades close over.]
## SCENE II
THE SAME. THE RUSSIAN POSITION