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George Meredith - "The Amazing Marriage, Complete"

Gilbert Parker - "Cumner & South Sea Folk, v1"

Georg Ebers - "In The Fire Of The Forge, Volume 4."

G. W. [George William] Foote - "Prisoner for Blasphemy"

The Dynasts

T >> Thomas Hardy >> The Dynasts




Don't, pretty one! needless it is in you,
Being so well aware who holds my love.--
I could not check her coming, since she would.
You well know how the old thing is, and how
I am compelled to let her have her mind!

[He kisses her repeatedly.]


JOSEFA

But look, the mob is swelling! Pouring in
By thousands from Madrid--and all afoot.
Will they not come on hither from the King's?


GODOY

Not just yet, maybe. You should have sooner fled!
The coach is waiting and the baggage packed. (He again peers out.)
Yes, there the coach is; and the clamourers near,
Led by Montijo, if I see aright.
Yes, they cry "Uncle Peter!"--that means him.
There will be time yet. Now I'll take you down
So far as I may venture.

[They leave the room. In a few minutes GODOY, having taken her
down, re-enters and again looks out. JOSEFA'S coach is moving
off with a small escort of GODOY'S guards of honour. A sudden
yelling begins, and the crowd rushes up and stops the vehicle.
An altercation ensues.]


CROWD

Uncle Peter, it is the Favourite carrying off Prince Fernando.
Stop him!


JOSEFA (putting her head out of the coach)

Silence their uproar, please, Senor Count of Montijo! It is a lady
only, the Countess of Castillofiel.


MONTIJO

Let her pass, let her pass, friends! It is only that pretty wench
of his, Pepa Tudo, who calls herself a Countess. Our titles are
put to comical uses these days. We shall catch the cock-bird
presently!

[The DONA JOSEFA'S carriage is allowed to pass on, as a shout
from some who have remained before the Royal Palace attracts the
attention of the multitude, which surges back thither.]


CROWD (nearing the Palace)

Call out the King and the Prince. Long live the King! He shall not
go. Hola! He is gone! Let us see him! He shall abandon Godoy!

[The clamour before the Royal Palace still increasing, a figure
emerges upon a balcony, whom GODOY recognizes by the lamplight
to be FERNANDO, Prince of Asturias. He can be seen waving his
hand. The mob grows suddenly silent.]


FERNANDO (in a shaken voice)

Citizens! the King my father is in the palace with the Queen. He
has been much tried to-day.


CROWD

Promise, Prince, that he shall not leave us. Promise!


FERNANDO

I do. I promise in his name. He has mistaken you, thinking you
wanted his head. He knows better now.


CROWD

The villain Godoy misrepresented us to him! Throw out the Prince
of Peace!


FERNANDO

He is not here, my friends.


CROWD

Then the King shall announce to us that he has dismissed him! Let
us see him. The King; the King!

[FERNANDO goes in. KING CARLOS comes out reluctantly, and bows
to their cheering. He produces a paper with a trembling hand.


KING (reading)

"As it is the wish of the people---"


CROWD

Speak up, your Majesty!


KING (more loudly)

"As it is the wish of the people, I release Don Manuel Godoy, Prince
of Peace, from the posts of Generalissimo of the Army and Grand
Admiral of the Fleet, and give him leave to withdraw whither he
pleases."


CROWD

Huzza!


KING

Citizens, to-morrow the decree is to be posted in Madrid.


CROWD

Huzza! Long life to the King, and death to Godoy!

[KING CARLOS disappears from the balcony, and the populace,
still increasing in numbers, look towards GODOY'S mansion, as
if deliberating how to attack it. GODOY retreats from the
window into the room, and gazing round him starts. A pale,
worn, but placid lady, in a sombre though elegant robe, stands
here in the gloom. She is THEREZA OF BOURBON, the Princess of
Peace.]


PRINCESS

It is only your unhappy wife, Manuel. She will not hurt you!


GODOY (shrugging his shoulders)

Nor with THEY hurt YOU! Why did you not stay in the Royal Palace?
You would have been more comfortable there.


PRINCESS

I don't recognize why you should specially value my comfort. You
have saved you real wives. How can it matter what happens to
your titular one?


GODOY

Much, dear. I always play fair. But it being your blest privilege
not to need my saving I was left free to practise it on those who
did. (Mob heard approaching.) Would that I were in no more danger
than you!


PRINCESS

Puf!

[He again peers out. His guard of hussars stands firmly in front
of the mansion; but the life-guards from the adjoining barracks,
who have joined the people, endeavour to break the hussars of
GODOY. A shot is fired, GODOY'S guard yields, and the gate and
door are battered in.


CROWD (without)

Murder him! murder him! Death to Manuel Godoy!

[They are heard rushing onto the court and house.]


PRINCESS

Go, I beseech you! You can do nothing for me, and I pray you to
save yourself! The heap of mats in the lumber-room will hide you!

[GODOY hastes to a jib-door concealed by sham bookshelves, presses
the spring of it, returns, kisses her, and then slips out.

His wife sits down with her back against the jib-door, and fans
herself. She hears the crowd trampling up the stairs, but she
does not move, and in a moment people burst in. The leaders are
armed with stakes, daggers, and various improvised weapons, and
some guards in undress appear with halberds.]


FIRST CITIZEN (peering into the dim light)

Where is he? Murder him! (Noticing the Princess.) Come, where
is he?


PRINCESS

The Prince of Peace is gone. I know not wither.


SECOND CITIZEN

Who is this lady?


LIFE-GUARDSMAN

Manuel Godoy's Princess.


CITIZENS (uncovering)

Princess, a thousand pardons grant us!--you
An injured wife--an injured people we!
Common misfortune makes us more than kin.
No single hair of yours shall suffer harm.

[The PRINCESS bows.]


FIRST CITIZEN

But this, Senora, is no place for you,
For we mean mischief here! Yet first will grant
Safe conduct for you to the Palace gates,
Or elsewhere, as you wish


PRINCESS

My wish is nought.
Do what you will with me. But he's not here.

[Several of them form an escort, and accompany her from the room
and out of the house. Those remaining, now a great throng, begin
searching the room, and in bands invade other parts of the mansion.]


SOME CITIZENS (returning)

It is no use searching. She said he was not here, and she's a woman
of honour.


FIRST CITIZEN (drily)

She's his wife.

[They begin knocking the furniture to pieces, tearing down the
hangings, trampling on the musical instruments, and kicking holes
through the paintings they have unhung from the walls. These,
with clocks, vases, carvings, and other movables, they throw out
of the window, till the chamber is a scene of utter wreck and
desolation. In the rout a musical box is swept off a table, and
starts playing a serenade as it falls on the floor. Enter the
COUNT OF MONTIJO.]


MONTIJO

Stop, friends; stop this! There is no sense in it--
It shows but useless spite! I have much to say:
The French Ambassador, de Beauharnais,
Has come, and sought the King. And next Murat,
With thirty thousand men, half cavalry,
Is closing in upon our doomed Madrid!
I know not what he means, this Bonaparte;
He makes pretence to gain us Portugal,
But what want we with her? 'Tis like as not
His aim's to noose us vassals all to him!
The King will abdicate, and shortly too,
As those will live to see who live not long.--
We have saved our nation from the Favourite,
But who is going to save us from our Friend?

[The mob desists dubiously and goes out; the musical box upon
the floor plays on, the taper burns to its socket, and the room
becomes wrapt in the shades of night.]



SCENE III

LONDON: THE MARCHIONESS OF SALISBURY'S

[A large reception-room is disclosed, arranged for a conversazione.
It is an evening in summer following, and at present the chamber is
empty and in gloom. At one end is an elaborate device, representing
Britannia offering her assistance to Spain, and at the other a
figure of Time crowning the Spanish Patriots' flag with laurel.]


SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

O clarionists of human welterings,
Relate how Europe's madding movement brings
This easeful haunt into the path of palpitating things!


RUMOURS (chanting)

The Spanish King has bowed unto the Fate
Which bade him abdicate:
The sensual Queen, whose passionate caprice
Has held her chambering with "the Prince of Peace,"
And wrought the Bourbon's fall,
Holds to her Love in all;
And Bonaparte has ruled that his and he
Henceforth displace the Bourbon dynasty.


II

The Spanish people, handled in such sort,
As chattels of a Court,
Dream dreams of England. Messengers are sent
In secret to the assembled Parliament,
In faith that England's hand
Will stouten them to stand,
And crown a cause which, hold they, bond and free
Must advocate enthusiastically.


SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

So the Will heaves through Space, and moulds the times,
With mortals for Its fingers! We shall see
Again men's passions, virtues, visions, crimes,
Obey resistlessly
The purposive, unmotived, dominant Thing
Which sways in brooding dark their wayfaring!

[The reception room is lighted up, and the hostess comes in. There
arrive Ambassadors and their wives, the Dukes and Duchesses of
RUTLAND and SOMERSET, the Marquis and Marchioness of STAFFORD,
the Earls of STAIR, WESTMORELAND, GOWER, ESSEX, Viscounts and
Viscountesses CRANLEY and MORPETH, Viscount MELBOURNE, Lord and
Lady KINNAIRD, Baron de ROLLE, Lady CHARLES GRENVILLE, the Ladies
CAVENDISH, Mr. and Mrs. THOMAS HOPE, MR. GUNNING, MRS. FITZHERBERT,
and many other notable personages. Lastly, she goes to the door
to welcome severally the PRINCE OF WALES, the PRINCES OF FRANCE,
and the PRINCESS CASTELCICALA.]


LADY SALISBURY (to the Prince of Wales)

I am sorry to say, sir, that the Spanish Patriots are not yet
arrived. I doubt not but that they have been delayed by their
ignorance of the town, and will soon be here.


PRINCE OF WALES

No hurry whatever, my dear hostess. Gad, we've enough to talk about!
I understand that the arrangement between our ministers and these
noblemen will include the liberation of Spanish prisoners in this
country, and the providing 'em with arms, to go back and fight for
their independence.


LADY SALISBURY

It will be a blessed event if they do check the career of this
infamous Corsican. I have just heard that that poor foreigner
Guillet de la Gevrilliere, who proposed to Mr. Fox to assassinate
him, died a miserable death a few days ago the Bicetre--probably
by torture, though nobody knows. Really one almost wishes Mr. Fox
had---. O here they are!

[Enter the Spanish Viscount de MATEROSA, and DON DIEGO de la VEGA.
They are introduced by CAPTAIN HILL and MR. BAGOT, who escort them.
LADY SALISBURY presents them to the PRINCE and others.]


PRINCE OF WALES

By gad, Viscount, we were just talking of 'ee. You had some
adventures in getting to this country?


MATEROSA (assisted by Bagot as interpreter)

Sir, it has indeed been a trying experience for us. But here we
are, impressed by a deep sense of gratitude for the signal marks of
attachment your country has shown us.


PRINCE OF WALES

You represent, practically, the Spanish people?


MATEROSA

We are immediately deputed, sir,
By the Assembly of Asturias,
More sailing soon from other provinces.
We bring official writings, charging us
To clinch and solder Treaties with this realm
That may promote our cause against the foe.
Nextly a letter to your gracious King;
Also a Proclamation, soon to sound
And swell the pulse of the Peninsula,
Declaring that the act by which King Carlos
And his son Prince Fernando cede the throne
To whomsoever Napoleon may appoint,
Being an act of cheatery, not of choice,
Unfetters us from our allegiant oath.


MRS. FITZHERBERT

The usurpation began, I suppose, with the divisions in the Royal
Family?


MATEROSA

Yes, madam, and the protection they foolishly requested from the
Emperor; and their timid intent of flying secretly helped it on.
It was an opportunity he had been awaiting for years.


MRS. FITZHERBERT

All brought about by this man Godoy, Prince of Peace!


PRINCE OF WALES

Dash my wig, mighty much you know about it, Maria! Why, sure,
Boney thought to himself, "This Spain is a pretty place; 'twill
just suit me as an extra acre or two; so here goes."


DON DIEGO (aside to Bagot)

This lady is the Princess of Wales?


BAGOT

Hsh! no, Senor. The Princess lives at large at Kensington and
other places, and has parties of her own, and doesn't keep house
with her husband. This lady is--well, really his wife, you know,
in the opinion of many; but---


DON DIEGO

Ah! Ladies a little mixed, as they were at our Court! She's the
Pepa Tudo to THIS Prince of Peace?


BAGOT

O no--not exactly that, Senor.


DON DIEGO

Ya, ya. Good. I'll be careful, my friend. You are not saints in
England more than we are in Spain!


BAGOT

We are not. Only you sin with naked faces, and we with masks on.


DON DIEGO

Virtuous country!


DUCHESS OF RUTLAND

It was understood that Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias, was to marry
a French princess, and so unite the countries peacefully?


MATEROSA

It was. And our credulous prince was tempted to meet Napoleon at
Bayonne. Also the poor simple King, and the infatuated Queen, and
Manuel Godoy.


DUCHESS OF RUTLAND

Then Godoy escaped from Aranjuez?


MATEROSA

Yes, by hiding in the garret. Then they all threw themselves
upon Napoleon's protection. In his presence the Queen swore
that the King was not Fernando's father! Altogether they form
a queer little menagerie. What will happen to them nobody knows.


PRINCE OF WALES

And do you wish us to send an army at once?


MATEROSA

What we most want, sir, are arms and ammunition. But we leave the
English Ministry to co-operate in its own wise way, anyhow, so as
to sustain us in resenting these insults from the Tyrant of the
Earth.


DUCHESS OF RUTLAND (to the Prince of Wales)

What sort of aid shall we send, sir?


PRINCE OF WALES

We are going to vote fifty millions, I hear. We'll whack him,
and preserve your noble country for 'ee, Senor Viscount. The
debate thereon is to come off to-morrow. It will be the finest
thing the Commons have had since Pitt's time. Sheridan, who is
open to it, says he and Canning are to be absolutely unanimous;
and, by God, like the parties in his "Critic," when Government
and Opposition do agree, their unanimity is wonderful! Viscount
Materosa, you and your friends must be in the Gallery. O, dammy,
you must!


MATEROSA

Sir, we are already pledged to be there.


PRINCE OF WALES

And hark ye, Senor Viscount. You will then learn what a mighty
fine thing a debate in the English Parliament is! No Continental
humbug there. Not but that the Court has a trouble to keep 'em
in their places sometimes; and I would it had been one in the
Lords instead. However, Sheridan says he has been learning his
speech these two days, and has hunted his father's dictionary
through for some stunning long words.--Now, Maria (to Mrs.
Fitzherbert), I am going home.


LADY SALISBURY

At last, then, England will take her place in the forefront of
this mortal struggle, and in pure disinterestedness fight with
all her strength for the European deliverance. God defend the
right!

[The Prince of Wales leaves, and the other guests begin to
depart.]


SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS (aerial music)

Leave this glib throng to its conjecturing,
And let four burdened weeks uncover what they bring!


SEMICHORUS II

The said Debate, to wit; its close in deed;
Till England stands enlisted for the Patriots' needs.


SEMICHORUS I

And transports in the docks gulp down their freight
Of buckled fighting-flesh, and gale-bound, watch and wait.


SEMICHORUS II

Till gracious zephyrs shoulder on their sails
To where the brine of Biscay moans its tragic tales.


CHORUS

Bear we, too, south, as we were swallow-vanned,
And mark the game now played there by the Master-hand!

[The reception-chamber is shut over by the night without, and
the point of view rapidly recedes south, London and its streets
and lights diminishing till they are lost in the distance, and
its noises being succeeded by the babble of the Channel and
Biscay waves.]



SCENE IV

MADRID AND ITS ENVIRONS

[The view is from the housetops of the city on a dusty evening
in this July, following a day of suffocating heat. The sunburnt
roofs, warm ochreous walls, and blue shadows of the capital,
wear their usual aspect except for a few feeble attempts at
decoration.]


DUMB SHOW

Gazers gather in the central streets, and particularly in the
Puerta del Sol. They show curiosity, but no enthusiasm. Patrols
of French soldiery move up and down in front of the people, and
seem to awe them into quietude.

There is a discharge of artillery in the outskirts, and the church
bells begin ringing; but the peals dwindle away to a melancholy
jangle, and then to silence. Simultaneously, on the northern
horizon of the arid, unenclosed, and treeless plain swept by the
eye around the city, a cloud of dust arises, and a Royal procession
is seen nearing. It means the new king, JOSEPH BONAPARTE.

He comes on, escorted by a clanking guard of four thousand Italian
troops, and the brilliant royal carriage is followed by a hundred
coaches bearing his suite. As the procession enters the city many
houses reveal themselves to be closed, many citizens leave the
route and walk elsewhere, while may of those who remain turn their
backs upon the spectacle.

KING JOSEPH proceeds thus through the Plaza Oriente to the granite-
walled Royal Palace, where he alights and is received by some of
the nobility, the French generals who are in occupation there, and
some clergy. Heralds emerge from the Palace, and hasten to divers
points in the city, where trumpets are blown and the Proclamation
of JOSEPH as KING OF SPAIN is read in a loud voice. It is received
in silence.

The sunsets, and the curtain falls.



SCENE V

THE OPEN SEA BETWEEN THE ENGLISH COASTS AND THE SPANISH PENINSULA

[From high aloft, in the same July weather, and facing east, the
vision swoops over the ocean and its coast-lines, from Cork
Harbour on the extreme left, to Mondego Bay, Portugal, on the
extreme right. Land's End and the Scilly Isles, Ushant and Cape
Finisterre, are projecting features along the middle distance
of the picture, and the English Channel recedes endwise as a
tapering avenue near the centre.]


DUMB SHOW

Four groups of moth-like transport ships are discovered silently
skimming this wide liquid plain. The first group, to the right,
is just vanishing behind Cape Mondego to enter Mondego Bay; the
second, in the midst, has come out from Plymouth Sound, and is
preparing to stand down Channel; the third is clearing St. Helen's
point for the same course; and the fourth, much further up Channel,
is obviously to follow on considerably in the rear of the two
preceding. A south-east wind is blowing strong, and, according to
the part of their course reached, they either sail direct with the
wind on their larboard quarter, or labour forward by tacking in
zigzags.


SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

What are these fleets that cross the sea
From British ports and bays
To coasts that glister southwardly
Behind the dog-day haze?


RUMOURS (chanting)

SEMICHORUS I


They are the shipped battalions sent
To bar the bold Belligerent
Who stalks the Dancers' Land.
Within these hulls, like sheep a-pen,
Are packed in thousands fighting-men
And colonels in command.


SEMICHORUS II

The fleet that leans each aery fin
Far south, where Mondego mouths in,
Bears Wellesley and his aides therein,
And Hill, and Crauford too;
With Torrens, Ferguson, and Fane,
And majors, captains, clerks, in train,
And those grim needs that appertain--
The surgeons--not a few!
To them add twelve thousand souls
In linesmen that the list enrolls,
Borne onward by those sheeted poles
As war's red retinue!


SEMICHORUS I

The fleet that clears St. Helen's shore
Holds Burrard, Hope, ill-omened Moore,
Clinton and Paget; while
The transports that pertain to those
Count six-score sail, whose planks enclose
Ten thousand rank and file.


SEMICHORUS II

The third-sent ships, from Plymouth Sound,
With Acland, Anstruther, impound
Souls to six thousand strong.
While those, the fourth fleet, that we see
Far back, are lined with cavalry,
And guns of girth, wheeled heavily
To roll the routes along.


SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Enough, and more, of inventories and names!
Many will fail; many earn doubtful fames.
Await the fruitage of their acts and aims.


DUMB SHOW (continuing)

In the spacious scene visible the far-separated groups of
transports, convoyed by battleships, float on before the wind
almost imperceptibly, like preened duck-feathers across a pond.
The southernmost expedition, under SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY, soon
comes to anchor within the Bay of Mondego aforesaid, and the
soldiery are indefinitely discernible landing upon the beach
from boats. Simultaneously the division commanded by MOORE, as
yet in the Chops of the channel, is seen to be beaten back by
contrary winds. It gallantly puts to sea again, and being joined
by the division under ANSTRUTHER that has set out from Plymouth,
labours round Ushant, and stands to the south in the track of
WELLESLEY. The rearward transports do the same.

A moving stratum of summer cloud beneath the point of view covers
up the spectacle like an awning.



SCENE VI

ST. CLOUD. THE BOUDOIR OF JOSEPHINE

[It is the dusk of evening in the latter summer of this year,
and from the windows at the back of the stage, which are still
uncurtained, can be seen the EMPRESS with NAPOLEON and some
ladies and officers of the Court playing Catch-me-if-you-can by
torchlight on the lawn. The moving torches throw bizarre lights
and shadows into the apartment, where only a remote candle or two
are burning.

Enter JOSEPHINE and NAPOLEON together, somewhat out of breath.
With careless suppleness she slides down on a couch and fans
herself. Now that the candle-rays reach her they show her mellow
complexion, her velvety eyes with long lashes, mouth with pointed
corners and excessive mobility beneath its _duvet_, and curls of
dark hair pressed down upon the temples by a gold band.

The EMPEROR drops into a seat near her, and they remain in silence
till he jumps up, knocks over some nicknacks with his elbow, and
begins walking about the boudoir.]


NAPOLEON (with sudden gloom)

These mindless games are very well, my friend;
But ours to-night marks, not improbably,
The last we play together.


JOSEPHINE (starting)

Can you say it!
Why raise that ghastly nightmare on me now,
When, for a moment, my poor brain had dreams
Denied it all the earlier anxious day?


NAPOLEON

Things that verge nigh, my simple Josephine,
Are not shoved off by wilful winking at.
Better quiz evils with too strained an eye
Than have them leap from disregarded lairs.


JOSEPHINE

Maybe 'tis true, and you shall have it so!--
Yet there's no joy save sorrow waived awhile.


NAPOLEON

Ha, ha! That's like you. Well, each day by day
I get sour news. Each hour since we returned
From this queer Spanish business at Bayonne,
I have had nothing else; and hence by brooding.


JOSEPHINE

But all went well throughout our touring-time?


NAPOLEON

Not so--behind the scenes. Our arms a Baylen
Have been smirched badly. Twenty thousand shamed
All through Dupont's ill-luck! The selfsame day
My brother Joseph's progress to Madrid
Was glorious as a sodden rocket's fizz!
Since when his letters creak with querulousness.
"Napoleon el chico" 'tis they call him--
"Napoleon the Little," so he says.
Then notice Austria. Much looks louring there,
And her sly new regard for England grows.
The English, next, have shipped an army down
To Mondego, under one Wellesley,
A man from India, and his march is south
To Lisbon, by Vimiero. On he'll go
And do the devil's mischief ere he is met
By unaware Junot, and chevyed back
To English fogs and fumes!


JOSEPHINE

My dearest one,
You have mused on worse reports with better grace
Full many and many a time. Ah--there is more! . . .
I know; I know!


NAPOLEON (kicking away a stool)

There is, of course; that worm
Time ever keeps in hand for gnawing me!--
The question of my dynasty--which bites
Closer and closer as the years wheel on.


JOSEPHINE

Of course it's that! For nothing else could hang
My lord on tenterhooks through nights and days;--
Or rather, not the question, but the tongues
That keep the question stirring. Nought recked you
Of throne-succession or dynastic lines
When gloriously engaged in Italy!
I was your fairy then: they labelled me
Your Lady of Victories; and much I joyed,
Till dangerous ones drew near and daily sowed
These choking tares within your fecund brain,--
Making me tremble if a panel crack,
Or mouse but cheep, or silent leaf sail down,
And murdering my melodious hours with dreads
That my late happiness, and my late hope,
Will oversoon be knelled!

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