Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) (1023 page)

of the heath show like bronze, and the pits like the eye-sockets

of a skull.]

SPIRIT SINISTER

This is good, and spells blood. 
[To the Chorus of the Years.]
  I

assume that It means to let us carry out this invasion with pleasing

slaughter, so as not to disappoint my hope?

SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS
[aerial music]

We carry out?  Nay, but should we

Ordain what bloodshed is to be it!

SEMICHORUS II

The Immanent, that urgeth all,

Rules what may or may not befall!

SEMICHORUS I

Ere systemed suns were globed and lit

The slaughters of the race were writ,

SEMICHORUS II

And wasting wars, by land and sea,

Fixed, like all else, immutably!

SPIRIT SINISTER

Well; be it so.  My argument is that War makes rattling good

history; but Peace is poor reading.  So I back Bonaparte for

the reason that he will give pleasure to posterity.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Gross hypocrite!

CHORUS OF THE YEARS

     We comprehend him not.

[The day breaks over the heathery upland, on which the beacon

is still burning.  The morning reveals the white surface of a

highway which, coming from the royal watering-place beyond the

hills, stretched towards the outskirts of the heath and passes

away eastward.]

DUMB SHOW

Moving figures and vehicles dot the surface of the road, all

progressing in one direction, away from the coast.  In the

foreground the shapes appear as those of civilians, mostly on

foot, but many in gigs and tradesmen's carts and on horseback.

When they reach an intermediate hill some pause and look back;

others enter on the next decline landwards without turning

their heads.

From the opposite horizon numerous companies of volunteers, in the

local uniform of red with green facings, are moving coastwards in

companies; as are also irregular bodies of pikemen without uniform;

while on the upper slopes of the downs towards the shore regiments

of the line are visible, with cavalry and artillery; all passing

over to the coast.

At a signal from the Chief Intelligences two Phantoms of Rumour enter

on the highway in the garb of country-men.

FIRST PHANTOM
[to Pedestrians]

Wither so fast, good neighbours, and before breakfast, too?  Empty

bellies be bad to vamp on.

FIRST PEDESTRIAN

He's landed west'ard, out by Abbot's Beach.  And if you have property

you'll save it and yourselves, as we are doing!

SECOND PEDESTRIAN

All yesterday the firing at Boulogne

Was like the seven thunders heard in Heaven

When the fierce angel spoke.  So did he draw

Full-manned, flat-bottomed for the shallowest shore,

Dropped down to west, and crossed our frontage here.

Seen from above they specked the water-shine

As will a flight of swallows toward dim eve,

Descending on a smooth and loitering stream

To seek some eyot's sedge.

SECOND PHANTOM

We are sent to enlighten you and ease your soul.

Even now a courier canters to the port

To check the baseless scare.

FIRST PEDESTRIAN

These be inland men who, I warrant 'ee, don't know a lerret from a

lighter!  Let's take no heed of such, comrade; and hurry on!

FIRST PHANTOM

     Will you not hear

That what was seen behind the midnight mist,

Their oar-blades tossing twinkles to the moon,

Was but a fleet of fishing-craft belated

By reason of the vastness of their haul?

FIRST PEDESTRIAN

Hey?  And d'ye know it?—Now I look back to the top o' Rudgeway

the folk seem as come to a pause there.—Be this true, never again

do I stir my stumps for any alarm short of the Day of Judgment!

Nine times has my rheumatical rest been broke in these last three

years by hues and cries of Boney upon us.  'Od rot the feller;

now he's made a fool of me once more, till my inside is like a

wash-tub, what wi' being so gallied, and running so leery!—But

how if you be one of the enemy, sent to sow these tares, so to

speak it, these false tidings, and coax us into a fancied safety?

Hey, neighbours?  I don't, after all, care for this story!

SECOND PEDESTRIAN

Onwards again!

If Boney's come, 'tis best to be away;

And if he's not, why, we've a holiday!

[Exeunt Pedestrians.  The Spirits of Rumour vanish, while the scene

seems to become involved in the smoke from the beacon, and slowly

disappears.]

ACT THIRD

SCENE I

BOULOGNE.  THE CHATEAU AT PONT-DE-BRIQUES

[A room in the Chateau, which is used as the Imperial quarters.

The EMPEROR NAPOLEON, and M. GASPARD MONGE, the mathematician

and philosopher, are seated at breakfast.]

OFFICER

Monsieur the Admiral Decres awaits

A moment's audience with your Majesty,

Or now, or later.

NAPOLEON

     Bid him in at once—

At last Villeneuve has raised the Brest blockade!

[Enter DECRES.]

What of the squadron's movements, good Decres?

Brest opened, and all sailing Channelwards,

Like swans into a creek at feeding-time?

DECRES

Such news was what I'd hoped, your Majesty,

To send across this daybreak.  But events

Have proved intractable, it seems, of late;

And hence I haste in person to report

The featless facts that just have dashed my—-

NAPOLEON
[darkening]

Well?

DECRES

Sire, at the very juncture when the fleets

Sailed out from Ferrol, fever raged aboard

"L'Achille" and "l'Algeciras": later on,

Mischief assailed our Spanish comrades' ships;

Several ran foul of neighbours; whose new hurts,

Being added to their innate clumsiness,

Gave hap the upper hand; and in quick course

Demoralized the whole; until Villeneuve,

Judging that Calder now with Nelson rode,

And prescient of unparalleled disaster

If he pushed on in so disjoint a trim,

Bowed to the inevitable; and thus, perforce,

Leaving to other opportunity

Brest and the Channel scheme, with vast regret

Steered southward into Cadiz.

NAPOLEON
[having risen from the table]

     What!—Is, then,

My scheme of years to be disdained and dashed

By this man's like, a wretched moral coward,

Whom you must needs foist on me as one fit

For full command in pregnant enterprise!

MONGE
[aside]

I'm one too many here!  Let me step out

Till this black squall blows over.  Poor Decres.

Would that this precious project, disinterred

From naval archives of King Louis' reign,

Had ever lingered fusting where 'twas found.

[Exit Monge.]

NAPOLEON

To help a friend you foul a country's fame!—

Decres, not only chose you this Villeneuve,

But you have nourished secret sour opinions

Akin to his, and thereby helped to scathe

As stably based a project as this age

Has sunned to ripeness.  Ever the French Marine

Have you decried, ever contrived to bring

Despair into the fleet!  Why, this Villeneuve,

Your man, this rank incompetent, this traitor—

Of whom I asked no more than fight and lose,

Provided he detain the enemy—

A frigate is too great for his command!

what shall be said of one who, at a breath,

When a few casual sailors find them sick,

When falls a broken boom or slitten sail,

When rumour hints that Calder's tubs and Nelson's

May join, and bob about in company,

Is straightway paralyzed, and doubles back

On all his ripened plans!—

Bring him, ay, bodily; hale him out from Cadiz,

Compel him up the Channel by main force,

And, having doffed him his supreme command,

Give the united squadrons to Ganteaume!

DECRES

Your Majesty, while umbraged, righteously,

By an event my tongue dragged dry to tell,

Makes my hard situation over-hard

By your ascription to the actors in't

Of motives such and such.  'Tis not for me

To answer these reproaches, Sire, and ask

Why years-long mindfulness of France's fame

In things marine should win no confidence.

I speak; but am unable to convince!

True is it that this man has been my friend

Since boyhood made us schoolmates; and I say

That he would yield the heel-drops of his heart

With joyful readiness this day, this hour,

To do his country service.  Yet no less

Is it his drawback that he sees too far.

And there are times, Sire, when a shorter sight

Charms Fortune more.  A certain sort of bravery

Some people have—to wit, this same Lord Nelson—

Which is but fatuous faith in one's own star

Swoln to the very verge of childishness,

[Smugly disguised as putting trust in God,

A habit with these English folk]
; whereby

A headstrong blindness to contingencies

Carries the actor on, and serves him well

In some nice issues clearer sight would mar.

Such eyeless bravery Villeneuve has not;

But, Sire, he is no coward.

NAPOLEON

Well, have it so!—What are we going to do?

My brain has only one wish—to succeed!

DECRES

My voice wanes weaker with you, Sire; is nought!

Yet these few words, as Minister of Marine,

I'll venture now.—My process would be thus:—

Our projects for a junction of the fleets

Being well-discerned and read by every eye

Through long postponement, England is prepared.

I would recast them.  Later in the year

Form sundry squadrons of this massive one,

Harass the English till the winter time,

Then rendezvous at Cadiz; where leave half

To catch the enemy's eye and call their cruizers,

While rounding Scotland with the other half,

You make the Channel by the eastern strait,

Cover the passage of our army-boats,

And plant the blow.

NAPOLEON

     And what if they perceive

Our Scottish route, and meet us eastwardly?

DECRES

I have thought of it, and planned a countermove;

I'll write the scheme more clearly and at length,

And send it hither to your Majesty.

NAPOLEON

Do so forthwith; and send me in Daru.

[Exit DECRES.  Re-enter MONGE.]

Our breakfast, Monge, to-day has been cut short,

And these discussions on the ancient tongues

Wherein you shine, must yield to modern moils.

Nay, hasten not away; though feeble wills,

Incompetence, ay, imbecility,

In some who feign to serve the cause of France,

Do make me other than myself just now!—

Ah—here's Daru.

[DARU enters.  MONGE takes his leave.]

Daru, sit down and write.  Yes, here, at once,

This room will serve me now.  What think you, eh?

Villeneuve has just turned tail and run to Cadiz.

So quite postponed—perhaps even overthrown—

My long-conned project against yonder shore

As 'twere a juvenile's snow-built device

But made for melting!  Think of it, Daru,—

My God, my God, how can I talk thereon!

A plan well judged, well charted, well upreared,

To end in nothing!... Sit you down and write.

[NAPOLEON walks up and down, and resumes after a silence.]

Write this.—A volte-face 'tis indeed!—Write, write!

DARU
[holding pen to paper]

I wait, your Majesty.

NAPOLEON

     First Bernadotte—

Yes; "Bernadotte moves out from Hanover

Through Hesse upon Wurzburg and the Danube.—

Marmont from Holland bears along the Rhine,

And joins at Mainz and Wurzburg Bernadotte...

While these prepare their routes the army here

Will turn its back on Britain's tedious shore,

And, closing up with Augereau at Brest,

Set out full force due eastward....

By the Black forest feign a straight attack,

The while our purpose is to skirt its left,

Meet in Franconia Bernadotte and Marmont;

Traverse the Danube somewhat down from Ulm;

Entrap the Austrian column by their rear;

Surround them, cleave them; roll upon Vienna,

Where, Austria settled, I engage the Tsar,

While Massena detains in Italy

The Archduke Charles.

     Foreseeing such might shape,

Each high-and by-way to the Danube hence

I have of late had measured, mapped, and judged;

Such spots as suit for depots chosen and marked;

Each regiment's daily pace and bivouac

Writ tablewise for ready reference;

All which itineraries are sent herewith."

So shall I crush the two gigantic sets

Upon the Empire, now grown imminent.

—Let me reflect.—First Bernadotte—-but nay,

The courier to Marmont must go first.