The Dynasts

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[The clock of Nivelles convent church strikes eleven in the
distance. Shortly after, coils of starch-blue smoke burst into
being along the French lines, and the English batteries respond
promptly, in an ominous roar that can be heard at Antwerp.

A column from the French left, six thousand strong, advances on
the plantation in front of the chateau of Hougomont. They are
played upon by the English ordnance; but they enter the wood,
and dislodge some battalions there. The French approach the
buildings, but are stopped by a loop-holed wall with a mass of
English guards behind it. A deadly fire bursts from these through
the loops and over the summit.

NAPOLEON orders a battery of howitzers to play upon the building.
Flames soon burst from it; but the foot-guards still hold the
courtyard.]

SCENE II

THE SAME. THE FRENCH POSITION

[On a hillock near the farm of Rossomme a small table from the
farmhouse has been placed; maps are spread thereon, and a chair
is beside it. NAPOLEON, SOULT, and other marshals are standing
round, their horses waiting at the base of the slope.

NAPOLEON looks through his glass at Hougomont. His elevated face
makes itself distinct in the morning light as a gloomy resentful
countenance, blue-black where shaven, and stained with snuff, with
powderings of the same on the breast of his uniform. His stumpy
figure, being just now thrown back, accentuates his stoutness.]

NAPOLEON

Let Reille be warned that these his surly sets
On Hougomont chateau, can scarce defray
Their mounting bill of blood. They do not touch
The core of my intent--to pierce and roll
The centre upon the right of those opposed.
Thereon will turn the outcome of the day,
In which our odds are ninety to their ten!

SOULT

Yes--prove there time and promptitude enough
To call back Grouchy here. Of his approach
I see no sign.

NAPOLEON (roughly)

Hours past he was bid come.
--But naught imports it! We are enough without him.
You have been beaten by this Wellington,
And so you think him great. But let me teach you
Wellington is no foe to reckon with.
His army, too, is poor. This clash to-day
Is more serious for our seasoned files
Than breakfasting.

SOULT

Such is my earnest hope.

NAPOLEON

Observe that Wellington still labours on,
Stoutening his right behind Gomont chateau,
But leaves his left and centre as before--
Weaker, if anything. He plays our game!

[WELLINGTON can, in fact, be seen detaching from his main line
several companies of Guards to check the aims of the French on
Hougomont.]

Let me re-word my tactics. Ney leads off
By seizing Mont Saint-Jean. Then d'Erlon stirs,
And heaves up his division from the left.
The second corps will move abreast of him
The sappers nearing to entrench themselves
Within the aforesaid farm.

[Enter an aide-de-camp.]

AIDE

From Marshal Ney,
Sire, I bring hasty word that all is poised
To strike the vital stroke, and only waits
Your Majesty's command,

NAPOLEON

Which he shall have
When I have scanned the hills for Grouchy's helms.

[NAPOLEON turns his glass to an upland four or five miles off on
the right, known as St. Lambert's Chapel Hill. Gazing more and
more intently, he takes rapid pinches of snuff in excitement.
NEY'S columns meanwhile standing for the word to advance, eighty
guns being ranged in front of La Belle Alliance in support of them.]

I see a darkly crawling, slug-like shape
Embodying far out there,--troops seemingly--
Grouchy's van-guard. What think you?

SOULT (also examining closely)

Verily troops;
And, maybe, Grouchy's. But the air is hazed.

NAPOLEON

If troops at all, they are Grouchy's. Why misgive,
And force on ills you fear!

ANOTHER MARSHAL

It seems a wood.
Trees don bold outlines in their new-leafed pride.

ANOTHER MARSHAL

It is the creeping shadow from a cloud.

ANOTHER MARSHAL

It is a mass of stationary foot;
I can descry piled arms.

[NAPOLEON sends off the order for NEY'S attack--the grand assault
on the English midst, including the farm of La Haye Sainte. It
opens with a half-hour's thunderous discharge of artillery, which
ceases at length to let d'Erlon's infantry pass.

Four huge columns of these, shouting defiantly, push forwards in
face of the reciprocal fire from the cannon of the English. Their
effrontery carries them so near the Anglo-Allied lines that the
latter waver. But PICTON brings up PACK'S brigade, before which
the French in turn recede, though they make an attempt in La Haye
Sainte, whence BARING'S Germans pour a resolute fire.

WELLINGTON, who is seen afar as one of a group standing by a
great elm, orders OMPTEDA to send assistance to BARING, as may
be gathered from the darting of aides to and fro between the
points, like house-flies dancing their quadrilles.

East of the great highway the right columns of D'ERLON'S corps
have climbed the slopes. BYLANDT'S sorely exposed Dutch are
broken, and in their flight disorder the ranks of the English
Twenty-eighth, the Carabineers of the Ninety-fifth being also
dislodged from the sand-pit they occupied.]

NAPOLEON

All prospers marvellously! Gomont is hemmed;
La Haye Sainte too; their centre jeopardized;
Travers and d'Erlon dominate the crest,
And further strength of foot is following close.
Their troops are raw; the flower of England's force
That fought in Spain, America now holds.--

[SIR TOMAS PICTON, seeing what is happening orders KEMPT'S
brigade forward. It volleys murderously DONZELOT'S columns
of D'ERLON'S corps, and repulses them. As they recede PICTON
is beheld shouting an order to charge.]

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

I catch a voice that cautions Picton now
Against his rashness. "What the hell care I,--
Is my curst carcase worth a moment's mind?--
Come on!" he answers. Onwardly he goes!

[His tall, stern, saturnine figure with its bronzed complexion is
on nearer approach discerned heading the charge. As he advances
to the slope between the cross-roads and the sand-pit, riding very
conspicuously, he falls dead, a bullet in his forehead. His aide,
assisted by a soldier, drags the body beneath a tree and hastens
on. KEMPT takes his command.

Next MARCOGNET is repulsed by PACK'S brigade. D'ERLON'S infantry
and TRAVERS'S cuirassiers are charged by the Union Brigade of
Scotch(23) Greys, Royal Dragoons, and Inniskillens, and cut down
everywhere, the brigade following them so furiously the LORD
UXBRIDGE tries in vain to recall it. On its coming near the
French it is overwhelmed by MILHAUD'S cuirassiers, scarcely a
fifth of the brigade returning.

An aide enters to NAPOLEON from GENERAL DOMON.]

AIDE

The General, on a far reconnaissance,
Says, sire, there is no room for longer doubt
That those debouching on St. Lambert's Hill
Are Prussian files.

NAPOLEON

Then where is General Grouchy?

[Enter COLONEL MARBOT with a prisoner.]

Aha--a Prussian, too! How comes he here?

MARBOT

Sire, my hussars have captured him near Lasnes--
A subaltern of the Silesian Horse.
A note from Bulow to Lord Wellington,
Announcing that a Prussian corps is close,
Was found on him. He speaks our language, sire.

NAPOLEON (to prisoner)

What force looms yonder on St. Lambert's Hill?

PRISONER

General Count Bulow's van, your Majesty.

[A thoughtful scowl crosses NAPOLEONS'S sallow face.]

NAPOLEON

Where, then, did your main army lie last night?

PRISONER

At Wavre.

NAPOLEON

But clashed it with no Frenchmen there?

PRISONER

With none. We deemed they had marched on Plancenoit.

NAPOLEON (shortly)

Take him away. (The prisoner is removed.) Has Grouchy's whereabouts
Been sought, to apprize him of this Prussian trend?

SOULT

Certainly, sire. I sent a messenger.

NAPOLEON (bitterly)

A messenger! Had my poor Berthier been here
Six would have insufficed! Now then: seek Ney;
Bid him to sling the valour of his braves
Fiercely on England ere Count Bulow come;
And advertize the succours on the hill
As Grouchy's. (Aside) This is my one battle-chance;
The Allies have many such! (To SOULT) If Bulow nears,
He cannot join in time to share the fight.
And if he could, 'tis but a corps the more. . . .
This morning we had ninety chances ours,
We have threescore still. If Grouchy but retrieve
His fault of absence, conquest comes with eve!

[The scene shifts.]

SCENE III

SAINT LAMBERT'S CHAPEL HILL

[A hill half-way between Wavre and the fields of Waterloo, five
miles to the north-east of the scene preceding. The hill is
wooded, with some open land around. To the left of the scene,
towards Waterloo, is a valley.]

DUMB SHOW

Marching columns in Prussian uniforms, coming from the direction of
Wavre, debouch upon the hill from the road through the wood.

They are the advance-guard and two brigades of Bulow's corps, that
have been joined there by BLUCHER. The latter has just risen from
the bed to which he has been confined since the battle of Ligny,
two days back. He still looks pale and shaken by the severe fall
and trampling he endured near the end of the action.

On the summit the troops halt, and a discussion between BLUCHER and
his staff ensues.

The cannonade in the direction of Waterloo is growing more and more
violent. BLUCHER, after looking this way and that, decides to fall
upon the French right at Plancenoit as soon as he can get there,
which will not be yet.

Between this point and that the ground descends steeply to the
valley on the spectator's left, where there is a mud-bottomed
stream, the Lasne; the slope ascends no less abruptly on the other
side towards Plancenoit. It is across this defile alone that the
Prussian army can proceed thither- a route of unusual difficulty
for artillery; where, moreover, the enemy is suspected of having
placed a strong outpost during the night to intercept such an
approach.

A figure goes forward--that of MAJOR FALKENHAUSEN, who is sent to
reconnoitre, and they wait a tedious time, the firing at Waterloo
growing more tremendous. FALKENHAUSEN comes back with the welcome
news that no outpost is there.

There now remains only the difficulty of the defile itself; and the
attempt is made. BLUCHER is descried riding hither and thither as
the guns drag heavily down the slope into the muddy bottom of the
valley. Here the wheels get stuck, and the men already tired by
marching since five in the morning, seem inclined to leave the guns
where they are. But the thunder from Waterloo still goes on, BLUCHER
exhorts his men by words and eager gestures, and they do at length
get the guns across, though with much loss of time.

The advance-guard now reaches some thick trees called the Wood of
Paris. It is followed by the LOSTHIN and HILLER divisions of foot,
and in due course by the remainder of the two brigades. Here they
halt, and await the arrival of the main body of BULOW'S corps, and
the third corps under THIELEMANN.

The scene shifts.

SCENE IV

THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. THE ENGLISH POSITION

[WELLINGTON, on Copenhagen, is again under the elm-tree behind La
Haye Sainte. Both horse and rider are covered with mud-splashes,
but the weather having grown finer the DUKE has taken off his cloak.

UXBRIDGE, FITZROY SOMERSET, CLINTON, ALTEN, COLVILLE, DE LANCEY,
HERVEY, GORDON, and other of his staff officers and aides are
near him; there being also present GENERALS MUFFLING, HUGEL, and
ALAVA; also TYLER, PICTON'S aide. The roar of battle continues.]

WELLINGTON

I am grieved at losing Picton; more than grieved.
He was as grim a devil as ever lived,
And roughish-mouthed withal. But never a man
More stout in fight, more stoical in blame!

TYLER

Before he left for this campaign he said,
"When you shall hear of MY death, mark my words,
You'll hear of a bloody day!" and, on my soul,
'Tis true.

[Enter another aide-de-camp.]

AIDE

Sir William Ponsonby, my lords, has fallen.
His horse got mud-stuck in a new-plowed plot,
Lancers surrounded him and bore him down,
And six then ran him through. The occasion sprung
Mainly from the Brigade's too reckless rush,
Sheer to the French front line.

WELLINGTON (gravely)

Ah--so it comes!
The Greys were bound to pay--'tis always so--
Full dearly for their dash so far afield.
Valour unballasted but lands its freight
On the enemy's shore.--What has become of Hill?

AIDE

We have not seen him latterly, your Grace.

WELLINGTON

By God, I hope I haven't lost him, too?

BRIDGMAN (just come up)

Lord Hill's bay charger, being shot dead, your Grace,
Rolled over him in falling. He is bruised,
But hopes to be in place again betimes.

WELLINGTON

Praise Fate for thinking better of that frown!

[It is now nearing four o'clock. La Haye Sainte is devastated by
the second attack of NEY. The farm has been enveloped by DONZELOT'S
division, its garrison, the King's German Legion, having fought
till all ammunition was exhausted. The gates are forced open, and
in the retreat of the late defenders to the main Allied line they
are nearly all cut or shot down.]

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

O Farm of sad vicissitudes and strange!
Farm of the Holy Hedge, yet fool of change!
Whence lit so sanct a name on thy now violate grange?

WELLINGTON (to Muffling, resolutely)

Despite their fierce advantage here, I swear
By every God that war can call upon
To hold our present place at any cost,
Until your force cooperate with our lines!
To that I stand; although 'tis bruited now
That Bulow's corps has only reached Ohain.
I've sent Freemantle hence to seek them there,
And give them inkling we shall need them soon.

MUFFLING (looking at his watch)

I had hoped that Blucher would be here ere this.

[The staff turn their glasses on the French position.]

UXBRIDGE

What movement can it be they contemplate?

WELLINGTON

A shock of cavalry on the hottest scale,
It seems to me. . . . (To aide) Bid him to reinforce
The front line with some second-line brigades;
Some, too, from the reserve.

[The Brunswickers advance to support MAITLAND'S Guards, and the
MITCHELL and ADAM Brigades establish themselves above Hougomont,
which is still in flames.

NEY, in continuation of the plan of throwing his whole force
on the British centre before the advent of the Prussians, now
intensifies his onslaught with the cavalry. Terrific discharges
of artillery initiate it to clear the ground. A heavy round-
shot dashes through the tree over the heads of WELLINGTON and
his generals, and boughs and leaves come flying down on them.]

WELLINGTON

Good practice that! I vow they did not fire
So dexterously in Spain. (He calls up an aide.) Bid Ompteda
Direct the infantry to lie tight down
On the reverse ridge-slope, to screen themselves
While these close shots and shells are teasing us;
When the charge comes they'll cease.

[The order is carried out. NEY'S cavalry attack now matures.
MILHAUD'S cuirassiers in twenty-four squadrons advance down the
opposite decline, followed and supported by seven squadrons of
chasseurs under DESNOETTES. They disappear for a minute in the
hollow between the armies.]

UXBRIDGE

Ah--now we have got their long-brewed plot explained!

WELLINGTON (nodding)

That this was rigged for some picked time to-day
I had inferred. But that it would be risked
Sheer on our lines, while still they stand unswayed,
In conscious battle-trim, I reckoned not.
It looks a madman's cruel enterprise!

FITZROY SOMERSET

We have just heard that Ney embarked on it
Without an order, ere its aptness riped.

WELLINGTON

It may be so: he's rash. And yet I doubt.
I know Napoleon. If the onset fail
It will be Ney's; if it succeed he'll claim it!

[A dull reverberation of the tread of innumerable hoofs comes
from behind the hill, and the foremost troops rise into view.]

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Behold the gorgeous coming of those horse,
Accoutered in kaleidoscopic hues
That would persuade us war has beauty in it!--
Discern the troopers' mien; each with the air
Of one who is himself a tragedy:
The cuirassiers, steeled, mirroring the day;
Red lancers, green chasseurs: behind the blue
The red; the red before the green:
A lingering-on till late in Christendom,
Of the barbaric trick to terrorize
The foe by aspect!

[WELLINGTON directs his glass to an officer in a rich uniform
with many decorations on his breast, who rides near the front
of the approaching squadrons. The DUKE'S face expresses
admiration.]

WELLINGTON

It's Marshal Ney himself who heads the charge.
The finest cavalry commander, he,
That wears a foreign plume; ay, probably
The whole world through!

SPIRIT IRONIC

And when that matchless chief
Sentenced shall lie to ignominious death
But technically deserved, no finger he
Who speaks will lift to save him.!

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

To his shame.
We must discount war's generous impulses
I sadly see.

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Be mute, and let spin on
This whirlwind of the Will!

[As NEY'S cavalry ascends the English position the swish of the
horses' breasts through the standing corn can be heard, and the
reverberation of hoofs increases in strength. The English gunners
stand with their portfires ready, which are seen glowing luridly
in the daylight. There is comparative silence.]

A VOICE

Now, captains, are you loaded?

CAPTAINS

Yes, my lord.

VOICE

Point carefully, and wait till their whole height
Shows above the ridge.

[When the squadrons rise in full view, within sixty yards of the
cannon-mouths, the batteries fire, with a concussion that shakes
the hill itself. Their shot punch holes through the front ranks
of the cuirassiers, and horse and riders fall in heaps. But they
are not stopped, hardly checked, galloping up to the mouths of the
guns, passing between the pieces, and plunging among the Allied
infantry behind the ridge, who, with the advance of the horsemen,
have sprung up from their prone position and formed into squares.]

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

Ney guides the fore-front of the carabineers
Through charge and charge, with rapid recklessness.
Horses, cuirasses, sabres, helmets, men,
Impinge confusedly on the pointed prongs
Of the English kneeling there, whose dim red shapes
Behind their slanted steel seem trampled flat
And sworded to the sward. The charge recedes,
And lo, the tough lines rank there as before,
Save that they are shrunken.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Hero of heroes, too,
Ney, (not forgetting those who gird against him).--
Simple and single-souled lieutenant he;
Why should men's many-valued motions take
So barbarous a groove!

[The cuirassiers and lancers surge round the English and Allied
squares like waves, striking furiously on them and well-nigh
breaking them. They stand in dogged silence amid the French
cheers.]

WELLINGTON (to the nearest square)

Hard pounding this, my men! I truly trust
You'll pound the longest!

SQUARE

Hip-hip-hip-hurrah!

MUFFLING (again referring to his watch)

However firmly they may stand, in faith,
Their firmness must have bounds to it, because
There are bounds to human strength! . . . Your, Grace,
To leftward now, to spirit Zieten on.

WELLINGTON

Good. It is time! I think he well be late,
However, in the field.

[MUFFLING goes. Enter an aide, breathless.]

AIDE

Your Grace, the Ninety-fifth are patience-spent
With standing under fire so passing long.
They writhe to charge--or anything but stand!

WELLINGTON

Not yet. They shall have at 'em later on.
At present keep them firm.

[Exit aide. The Allied squares stand like little red-brick castles,
independent of each other, and motionless except at the dry hurried
command "Close up!" repeated every now and then as they are slowly
thinned. On the other hand, under their firing and bayonets a
disorder becomes apparent among the charging horse, on whose
cuirasses the bullets snap like stones on window-panes. At this
the Allied cavalry waiting in the rear advance; and by degrees they
deliver the squares from their enemies, who are withdrawn to their
own position to prepare for a still more strenuous assault. The
point of view shifts.]

SCENE V

THE SAME. THE WOMEN'S CAMP NEAR MONT SAINT-JEAN

[On the sheltered side of a clump of trees at the back of the
English position camp-fires are smouldering. Soldiers' wives,
mistresses, and children from a few months to five or six years
of age, sit on the ground round the fires or on armfuls of straw
from the adjoining farm. Wounded soldiers lie near the women.
The wind occasionally brings the smoke and smell of battle into
the encampment, the noise being continuous. Two waggons stand
near; also a surgeon's horse in charge of a batman, laden with
bone-saws, knives, probes, tweezers, and other surgical instruments.
Behind lies a woman who has just given birth to a child, which a
second woman is holding.

Many of the other women are shredding lint, the elder children
assisting. Some are dressing the slighter wounds of the soldiers
who have come in here instead of going further. Along the road
near is a continual procession of bearers of wounded men to the
rear. The occupants of the camp take hardly any notice of the
thundering of the cannon. A camp-follower is playing a fiddle
near. Another woman enters.]

WOMAN

There's no sign of my husband any longer. His battalion is half-a-
mile from where it was. He looked back as they wheeled off towards
the fighting-line, as much as to say, "Nancy, if I don't see 'ee
again, this is good-bye, my dear." Yes, poor man! . . . Not but
what 'a had a temper at times!

SECOND WOMAN

I'm out of all that. My husband--as I used to call him for form's
sake--is quiet enough. He was wownded at Quarter-Brass the day
before yesterday, and died the same night. But I didn't know it
till I got here, and then says I, "Widder or no widder, I mean to
see this out."

[A sergeant staggers in with blood dropping from his face.]

SERGEANT

Damned if I think you will see it out, mis'ess, for if I don't
mistake there'll be a retreat of the whole army on Brussels soon.
We can't stand much longer!--For the love of God, have ye got a
cup of water, if nothing stronger? (They hand a cup.)

THIRD WOMAN (entering and sinking down)

The Lord send that I may never see again what I've been seeing while
looking for my poor galliant Joe! The surgeon asked me to lend a
hand; and 'twas worse than opening innerds at a pig-killing! (She
faints.)

FOURTH WOMAN (to a little girl)

Never mind her, my dear; come and help me with this one. (She goes
with the girl to a soldier in red with buff facings who lies some
distance off.) Ah--'tis no good. He's gone.

GIRL

No, mother. His eyes are wide open, a-staring to get a sight of
the battle!

FOURTH WOMAN

That's nothing. Lots of dead ones stare in that silly way. It
depends upon where they were hit. I was all through the Peninsula;
that's how I know. (She covers the horny gaze of the man. Shouts
and louder discharges are heard.)--Heaven's high tower, what's that?

[Enter an officer's servant.(24)]

SERVANT

Waiting with the major's spare hoss--up to my knees in mud from
the rain that had come down like baccy-pipe stems all the night
and morning--I have just seen a charge never beholded since the
days of the Amalekites! The squares still stand, but Ney's cavalry
have made another attack. Their swords are streaming with blood,
and their horses' hoofs squash out our poor fellow's bowels as they
lie. A ball has sunk in Sir Thomas Picton's forehead and killed him
like Goliath the Philistine. I don't see what's to stop the French.
Well, it's the Lord's doing and marvellous in our eyes. Hullo,
who's he? (They look towards the road.) A fine hale old gentleman,
isn't he? What business has a man of that sort here?

[Enter, on the highway near, the DUKE OF RICHMOND in plain clothes,
on horseback, accompanied by two youths, his sons. They draw
rein on an eminence, and gaze towards the battlefields.]

RICHMOND (to son)

Everything looks as bad as possible just now. I wonder where your
brother is? However, we can't go any nearer. . . . Yes, the bat-
horses are already being moved off, and there are more and more
fugitives. A ghastly finish to your mother's ball, by Gad if it
isn't!

[They turn their horses towards Brussels. Enter, meeting them,
MR. LEGH, a Wessex gentleman, also come out to view the battle.]

LEGH

Can you tell me, sir, how the battle is going?

RICHMOND

Badly, badly, I fear, sir. There will be a retreat soon, seemingly.

LEGH

Indeed! Yes, a crowd of fugitives are coming over the hill even now.
What will these poor women do?

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