Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) (1046 page)

"Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is

full of misery.  He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he

fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay."

[A gun is fired from the French battery not far off; then another.

The ships in the harbour take in their riding lights.]

COLBORNE
[in a low voice]

I knew that dawn would see them open fire.

HOPE

We must perforce make swift use of out time.

Would we had closed our too sad office sooner!

[As the body is lowered another discharge echoes.  They glance

gloomily at the heights where the French are ranged, and then

into the grave.]

CHAPLAIN

"We therefore commit his body to the ground.  Earth to earth, ashes

to ashes, dust to dust." 
[Another gun.]

[A spent ball falls not far off.  They put out their lanterns.

Continued firing, some shot splashing into the harbour below

them.]

HOPE

In mercy to the living, who are thrust

Upon our care for their deliverance,

And run much hazard till they are embarked,

We must abridge these duties to the dead,

Who will not mind be they abridged or no.

HARDINGE

And could he mind, would be the man to bid it....

HOPE

We shall do well, then, curtly to conclude

These mutilated prayers—our hurried best!—

And what's left unsaid, feel.

CHAPLAIN
[his words broken by the cannonade]

".... We give Thee hearty thanks for that it hath pleased

Thee to deliver this our brother out of the miseries of this

sinful world.... Who also hath taught us not to be sorry, as

men without hope, for them that sleep in Him.... Grant this,

through Jesus Christ our Mediator and Redeemer."

OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS

Amen!

[The diggers of the Ninth hastily fill in the grave, and the scene

shuts as the mournful figures retire.]

SCENE V

VIENNA.  A CAFE IN THE STEPHANS-PLATZ

[An evening between light and dark is disclosed, some lamps being

lit.  The huge body and tower of St. Stephen's rise into the sky

some way off, the western gleam still touching the upper stonework.

Groups of people are seated at the tables, drinking and reading

the newspapers.  One very animated group, which includes an

Englishman, is talking loudly.  A citizen near looks up from his

newspaper.]

CITIZEN
[to the Englishman]

I read, sir, here, the troubles you discuss

Of your so gallant army under Moore.

His was a spirit baffled but not quelled,

And in his death there shone a stoicism

That lent retreat the rays of victory.

ENGLISHMAN

It was so.  While men chide they will admire him,

And frowning, praise.  I could nigh prophesy

That the unwonted crosses he has borne

In his career of sharp vicissitude

Will tinct his story with a tender charm,

And grant the memory of his strenuous feats

As long a lease within the minds of men

As conquerors hold there.—Does the sheet give news

Of how the troops reached home?

CITIZEN
[looking up again at the paper]

     Yes; from your press

It quotes that they arrived at Plymouth Sound

Mid dreadful weather and much suffering.

It states they looked the very ghosts of men,

So heavily had hunger told on them,

And the fatigues and toils of the retreat.

Several were landed dead, and many died

As they were borne along.  At Portsmouth, too,

Sir David Baird, still helpless from his wound,

Was carried in a cot, sheet-pale and thin,

And Sir John Hope, lank as a skeleton.—

Thereto is added, with authority,

That a new expedition soon will fit,

And start again for Spain.

ENGLISHMAN

I have heard as much.

CITIZEN

You'll do it next time, sir.  And so shall we!

SECOND CITIZEN
[regarding the church tower opposite]

You witnessed the High Service over there

They held this morning? 
[To the Englishman.]

ENGLISHMAN

     Ay; I did get in;

Though not without hard striving, such the throng;

But travellers roam to waste who shyly roam

And I pushed like the rest.

SECOND CITIZEN

     Our young Archduchess

Maria Louisa was, they tell me, present?

ENGLISHMAN

O yes: the whole Imperial family,

And when the Bishop called all blessings down

Upon the Landwehr colours there displayed,

Enthusiasm touched the sky—she sharing it.

SECOND CITIZEN

Commendable in her, and spirited,

After the graceless insults to the Court

The Paris journals flaunt—not voluntarily,

But by his ordering.  Magician-like

He holds them in his fist, and at his squeeze

They bubble what he wills!... Yes, she's a girl

Of patriotic build, and hates the French.

Quite lately she was overheard to say

She had met with most convincing auguries

That this year Bonaparte was starred to die.

ENGLISHMAN

Your arms must render its fulfilment sure.

SECOND CITIZEN

Right!  And we have the opportunity,

By upping to the war in suddenness,

And catching him unaware.  The pink and flower

Of all his veteran troops are now in Spain

Fully engaged with yours; while those he holds

In Germany are scattered far and wide.

FIRST CITIZEN
[looking up again from his newspaper]

I see here that he vows and guarantees

Inviolate bounds to all our territories

If we but pledge to carry out forthwith

A prompt disarmament.  Since that's his price

Hell burn his guarantees!  Too long he has fooled us.

[To the Englishman]
I drink, sir, to your land's consistency.

While we and all the kindred Europe States

Alternately have wooed and warred him,

You have not bent to blowing hot and cold,

But held you sturdily inimical!

ENGLISHMAN
[laughing]

Less Christian-like forgiveness mellows us

Than Continental souls! 
[They drink.]

[A band is heard in a distant street, with shouting.  Enter third

and fourth citizens, followed by others.]

FIRST CITIZEN

More news afloat?

THIRD AND FOURTH CITIZENS

Yea; an announcement that the Archduke Charles

Is given the chief command.

FIRST, SECOND, ETC., CITIZENS

Huzza!  Right so!

[A clinking of glasses, rising from seats, and general enthusiasm.]

SECOND CITIZEN

If war had not so patly been declared,

Our howitzers and firelocks of themselves

Would have gone off to shame us!  This forenoon

Some of the Landwehr met me; they are hot

For setting out, though but few months enrolled.

ENGLISHMAN

That moves reflection somewhat.  They are young

For measuring with the veteran file of France!

FIRST CITIZEN

Napoleon's army swarms with tender youth,

His last conscription besomed into it

Thousands of merest boys.  But he contrives

To mix them in the field with seasoned frames.

SECOND CITIZEN

The sadly-seen mistake this country made

Was that of grounding hostile arms at all.

We should have fought irreconcilably—

Have been consistent as the English are.

The French are our hereditary foes,

And this adventurer of the saucy sword,

This sacrilegious slighter of our shrines,

Stands author of all our ills...

Our harvest fields and fruits he trample on,

Accumulating ruin in our land.

Think of what mournings in the last sad war

'Twas his to instigate and answer for!

Time never can efface the glint of tears

In palaces, in shops, in fields, in cots,

From women widowed, sonless, fatherless,

That then oppressed our eyes.  There is no salve

For such deep harrowings but to fight again;

The enfranchisement of Europe hangs thereon,

And long she has lingered for the sign to crush him:

That signal we have given; the time is come! 
[Thumping on the table.]

FIFTH CITIZEN
[at another table, looking up from his paper and

           speaking across]

I see that Russia has declined to aid us,

And says she knows that Prussia likewise must;

So that the mission of Prince Schwarzenberg

To Alexander's Court has closed in failure.

THIRD CITIZEN

Ay—through his being honest—fatal sin!—

Probing too plainly for the Emperor's ears

His ominous friendship with Napoleon.

ENGLISHMAN

Some say he was more than honest with the Tsar;

Hinting that his becoming an ally

Makes him accomplice of the Corsican

In the unprincipled dark overthrow

Of his poor trusting childish Spanish friends—

Which gave the Tsar offence.

THIRD CITIZEN

     And our best bid—

The last, most delicate dish—a tastelessness.

FIRST CITIZEN

What was Prince Schwarzenberg's best bid, I pray?

THIRD CITIZEN

The offer of the heir of Austria's hand

For Alexander's sister the Grand-Duchess.

ENGLISHMAN

He could not have accepted, if or no:

She is inscribed as wife for Bonaparte.

FIRST CITIZEN

I doubt that text!

ENGLISHMAN

Time's context soon will show.

SECOND CITIZEN

The Russian Cabinet can not for long

Resist the ardour of the Russian ranks

To march with us the moment we achieve

Our first loud victory!

[A band is heard playing afar, and shouting.  People are seen

hurrying past in the direction of the sounds.  Enter sixth

citizen.]

SIXTH CITIZEN

     The Archduke Charles

Is passing the Ringstrasse just by now,

His regiment at his heels!

[The younger sitters jump up with animation, and go out, the

elder mostly remaining.]

SECOND CITIZEN

     Realm never faced

The grin of a more fierce necessity

For horrid war, than ours at this tense time!

[The sounds of band-playing and huzzaing wane away.  Citizens

return.]

FIRST CITIZEN

More news, my friends, of swiftly swelling zeal?

RE-ENTERED CITIZENS

Ere passing down the Ring, the Archduke paused

And gave the soldiers speech, enkindling them

As sunrise a confronting throng of panes

That glaze a many-windowed east facade:

Hot volunteers vamp in from vill and plain—

More than we need in the furthest sacrifice!

FIRST, SECOND, ETC., CITIZENS

Huzza!  Right so!  Good!  Forwards!  God be praised!

[They stand up, and a clinking of glasses follows, till they

subside to quietude and a reperusal of newspapers.  Nightfall

succeeds.  Dancing-rooms are lit up in an opposite street, and

dancing begins.  The figures are seen gracefully moving round

to the throbbing strains of a string-band, which plays a new

waltzing movement with a warlike name, soon to spread over

Europe.  The dancers sing patriotic words as they whirl.  The

night closes over.]

ACT FOURTH

SCENE I

A ROAD OUT OF VIENNA

[It is morning in early May.  Rain descends in torrents, accompanied

by peals of thunder.  The tepid downpour has caused the trees to

assume as by magic a clothing of limp green leafage, and has turned

the ruts of the uneven highway into little canals.

A drenched travelling-chariot is passing, with a meagre escort.

In the interior are seated four women: the ARCHDUCHESS MARIA

LOUISA, in age about eighteen; her stepmother the EMPRESS OF

AUSTRIA, third wife of FRANCIS, only four years older than the

ARCHDUCHESS; and two ladies of the Austrian Court.  Behind come

attendant carriages bearing servants and luggage.

The inmates remain for the most part silent, and appear to be in a

gloomy frame of mind.  From time to time they glance at the moist

spring scenes which pass without in a perspective distorted by the

rain-drops that slide down the panes, and by the blurring effect

of the travellers' breathings.  Of the four the one who keeps in

the best spirits is the ARCHDUCHESS, a fair, blue-eyed, full-

figured, round-lipped maiden.]