Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) (1032 page)

Athwart this field of Austerlitz!

SHADE OF THE EARTH

Pain not their young compassions by such lore,

But hold you mute, and read the battle yonder:

The moment marks the day's catastrophe.

SCENE IV

THE SAME.  THE RUSSIAN POSITION

[It is about noon, and the vital spectacle is now near the village

of Tilnitz.  The fog has dispersed, and the sun shines clearly,

though without warmth, the ice on the pools gleaming under its

radiance.

GENERAL BUXHOVDEN and his aides-de-camp have reined up, and remain

at pause on a hillock.  The General watches through a glass his

battalions, which are still disputing the village.  Suddenly

approach down the track from the upland of Pratzen large companies

of Russian infantry helter-skelter.  COUNT LANGERON is beheld to

be retreating with them; and soon, pale and agitated, he hastens

up to GENERAL BUXHOVDEN, whose face is flushed.]

LANGERON

While they are upon us you stay idle here!

Prschebiszewsky's column is distraught and rent,

And more than half my own made captive!  Yea,

Kreznowitz carried, and Sokolnitz hemmed:

The enemy's whole strength will stound you soon!

BUXHOVDEN

You seem to see the enemy everywhere.

LANGERON

You cannot see them, be they here or no!

BUXHOVDEN

I only wait Prschebiszewsky's nearing corps

To join Dokhtorof's to them.  Here they come.

[SOULT, supported by BERNADOTTE and OUDINOT, having cleared and

secured the Pratzen height, his battalions are perceived descending

from it on this side, behind DOKHTOROF'S division, so placing the

latter between themselves and the pools.]

LANGERON

You cannot tell the Frenchmen from ourselves!

These are the victors.—Ah—Dokhtorof—lost!

[DOKHTOROF'S troops are seen to be retreating towards the water.

The watchers stand in painful tenseness.]

BUXHOVDEN

Dokhtorof tell to save him as he may!

We, Count, must gather up our shaken flesh

And hurry them by the road through Austerlitz.

[BUXHOVDEN'S regiments and the remains of LANGERON'S are rallied

and collected, and they retreat by way of the hamlet of Aujezd.

As they go over the summit of a hill BUXHOVDEN looks back.

LANGERON'S columns, which were behind his own, have been cut

off by VANDAMME'S division coming down from the Pratzen plateau.

This and some detachments from DOKHTOROF'S column rush towards

the Satschan lake and endeavour to cross it on the ice.  It

cracks beneath their weight.  At the same moment NAPOLEON and

his brilliant staff appear on the top of the Pratzen.

The Emperor watches the scene with a vulpine smile; and directs

a battery near at hand to fire down upon the ice on which the

Russians are crossing.  A ghastly crash and splashing follows

the discharge, the shining surface breaking into pieces like a

mirror, which fly in all directions.  Two thousand fugitives are

engulfed, and their groans of despair reach the ears of the

watchers like ironical huzzas.

A general flight of the Russian army from wing to wing is now

disclosed, involving in its current the EMPEROR ALEXANDER and

the EMPEROR FRANCIS, with the reserve, who are seen towards

Austerlitz endeavouring to rally their troops in vain.  They

are swept along by the disordered soldiery.]

SCENE V

THE SAME.  NEAR THE WINDMILL OF PALENY

[The mill is about seven miles to the southward, between French

advanced posts and the Austrians.

A bivouac fire is burning.  NAPOLEON, in grey overcoat and

beaver hat turned up front to back, rides to the spot with

BERTHIER, SAVARY, and his aides, and alights.  He walks to

and fro complacently, meditating or talking to BERTHIER.  Two

groups of officers, one from each army, stand in the background

on their respective sides.]

NAPOLEON

What's this of Alexander?  Weep, did he,

Like his old namesake, but for meaner cause?

Ha, ha!

BERTHIER

Word goes, you Majesty, that Colonel Toll,

One of Field-Marshal Price Kutuzof's staff,

In the retreating swirl of overthrow,

Found Alexander seated on a stone,

Beneath a leafless roadside apple-tree,

Out here by Goding on the Holitsch way;

His coal-black uniform and snowy plume

Unmarked, his face disconsolate, his grey eyes

Mourning in tears the fate of his brave array—

All flying southward, save the steadfast slain.

NAPOLEON

Poor devil!—But he'll soon get over it—

Sooner than his employers oversea!—

Ha!—this well make friend Pitt and England writhe,

And cloud somewhat their lustrous Trafalgar.

[An open carriage approaches from the direction of Holitsch,

accompanied by a small escort of Hungarian guards.  NAPOLEON

walks forward to meet it as it draws up, and welcomes the

Austrian Emperor, who alights.  He is wearing a grey cloak

over a white uniform, carries a light walking-cane, and is

attended by PRINCE JOHN OF LICHTENSTEIN, SWARZENBERG, and

others.  His fresh-coloured face contrasts strangely with the

bluish pallor of NAPOLEON'S; but it is now thin and anxious.

They formally embrace.  BERTHIER, PRINCE JOHN, and the rest

retire, and the two Emperors are left by themselves before the

fire.]

NAPOLEON

Here on the roofless ground do I receive you—

My only mansion for these two months past!

FRANCIS

Your tenancy thereof has brought such fame

That it must needs be one which charms you, Sire.

NAPOLEON

Good!  Now this war.  It has been forced on me

Just at a crisis most inopportune,

When all my energies and arms were bent

On teaching England that her watery walls

Are no defence against the wrath of France

Aroused by breach of solemn covenants.

FRANCIS

I had no zeal for violating peace

Till ominous events in Italy

Revealed the gloomy truth that France aspires

To conquest there, and undue sovereignty.

Since when mine eyes have seen no sign outheld

To signify a change of purposings.

NAPOLEON

Yet there were terms distinctly specified

To General Giulay in November past,

Whereon I'd gladly fling the sword aside.

To wit: that hot armigerent jealousy

Stir us no further on transalpine rule,

I'd take the Isonzo River as our bounds.

FRANCIS

Roundly, that I cede all!—And how may stand

Your views as to the Russian forces here?

NAPOLEON

You have all to lose by that alliance, Sire.

Leave Russia.  Let the Emperor Alexander

Make his own terms; whereof the first must be

That he retire from Austrian territory.

I'll grant an armistice therefor.  Anon

I'll treat with him to weld a lasting peace,

Based on some simple undertakings; chief,

That Russian armies keep to the ports of his domain.

Meanwhile to you I'll tender this good word:

Keep Austria to herself.  To Russia bound,

You pay your own costs with your provinces,

Alexander's likewise therewithal.

FRANCIS

I see as much, and long have seen it, Sire;

And standing here the vanquished, let me own

What happier issues might have left unsaid:

Long, long I have lost the wish to bind myself

To Russia's purposings and Russia's risks;

Little do I count these alliances

With Powers that have no substance seizable!

[As they converse they walk away.]

AN AUSTRIAN OFFICER

O strangest scene of an eventful life,

This junction that I witness here to-day!

An Emperor—in whose majestic veins

Aeneas and the proud Caesarian line

Claim yet to live; and, those scarce less renowned,

The dauntless Hawks'-Hold Counts, of gallantry

So great in fame one thousand years ago—

To bend with deference and manners mild

In talk with this adventuring campaigner,

Raised but by pikes above the common herd!

ANOTHER AUSTRIAN OFFICER

Ay!  There be Satschan swamps and Pratzen heights

In royal lines, as here at Austerlitz.

[The Emperors again draw near.]

FRANCIS

Then, to this armistice, which shall be called

Immediately at all points, I agree;

And pledge my word that my august ally

Accept it likewise, and withdraw his force

By daily measured march to his own realm.

NAPOLEON

For him I take your word.  And pray believe

That rank ambitions are your own, not mine;

That though I have postured as your enemy,

And likewise Alexander's, we are one

In interests, have in all things common cause.

One country sows these mischiefs Europe through

By her insidious chink of luring ore—

False-featured England, who, to aggrandize

Her name, her influence, and her revenues,

Schemes to impropriate the whole world's trade,

And starves and bleeds the folk of other lands.

Her rock-rimmed situation walls her off

Like a slim selfish mollusk in its shell

From the wide views and fair fraternities

Which on the mainland we reciprocate,

And quicks her quest for profit in our woes!

FRANCIS

I am not competent, your Majesty,

To estimate that country's conscience now,

Nor engage on my ally's behalf

That English ships be shut from Russian trade.

But joyful am I that in all things else

My promise can be made; and that this day

Our conference ends in friendship and esteem.

NAPOLEON

I will send Savary at to-morrow's blink

And make all lucid to the Emperor.

For us, I wholly can avow as mine

The cordial spirit of your Majesty.

[They retire towards the carriage of FRANCIS.  BERTHIER, SAVARY,

LICHTENSTEIN, and the suite of officers advance from the background,

and with mutual gestures of courtesy and amicable leave-takings

the two Emperors part company.]

CHORUS OF THE PITIES
[aerial music]

Each for himself, his family, his heirs;

For the wan weltering nations who concerns, who cares?

CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS

A pertinent query, in truth!—

But spoil not the sport by your ruth:

     'Tis enough to make half

     Yonder zodiac laugh

When rulers begin to allude

     To their lack of ambition,

     And strong opposition

To all but the general good!

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Hush levities.  Events press: turn ye westward.

[A nebulous curtain draws slowly across.]

SCENE VI

SHOCKERWICK HOUSE, NEAR BATH

[The interior of the Picture Gallery.  Enter WILTSHIRE, the owner,

and Pitt, who looks emaciated and walks feebly.]

WILTSHIRE
[pointing to a portrait]

Now here you have the lady we discussed:

A fine example of his manner, sir?

PITT

It is a fine example, sir, indeed,—

With that transparency amid the shades,

And those thin blue-green-grayish leafages

Behind the pillar in the background there,

Which seem the leaves themselves.—Ah, this is Quin.

[Moving to another picture.]

WILTSHIRE

Yes, Quin.  A man of varied parts, though rough

And choleric at times.  Yet, at his best,

As Falstaff, never matched, they say.  But I

Had not the fate to see him in the flesh.

PITT

Churchill well carves him in his "Character":—

"His eyes, in gloomy socket taught to roll,

Proclaimed the sullen habit of his soul.

In fancied scenes, as in Life's real plan,

He could not for a moment sink the man:

Nature, in spite of all his skill, crept in;

Horatio, Dorax, Falstaff—stile 'twas Quin."

—He was at Bath when Gainsborough settled there

In that house in the Circus which we know.—

I like the portrait much.—The brilliancy

Of Gainsborough lies in this his double sway:

Sovereign of landscape he; of portraiture

Joint monarch with Sir Joshua.... Ah?—that's—hark!

Is that the patter of horses's hoofs

Along the road?

WILTSHIRE

I notice nothing, sir.

PITT

It is a gallop, growing quite distinct.