Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) (1049 page)

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;