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The Dynasts

T >> Thomas Hardy >> The Dynasts




MURAT

I see them not. The plateau seems deserted!


NAPOLEON

Gone; verily!--Ah, how much will you bid,
An hour hence, for the coign abandoned now!
The battle's ours.--It was, then, their rash march
Downwards to Tilnitz and the Goldbach swamps
Before dawn, that we heard.--No hurry, Lannes!
Enjoy this sun, that rests its chubby jowl
Upon the plain, and thrusts its bristling beard
Across the lowlands' fleecy counterpane,
Peering beneath our broadest hat-brims' shade. . . .
Soult, how long hence to win the Pratzen top?


SOULT

Some twenty minutes or less, your Majesty:
Our troops down there, still mantled by the mist,
Are half upon the way.


NAPOLEON

Good! Set forthwith
Vandamme and Saint Hilaire to mount the slopes---

[Firing begins in the marsh to the right by Tilnitz and the pools,
though the thick air yet hides the operations.]

O, there you are, blind boozy Buxhovden!
Achieve your worst. Davout will hold you firm.

[The head of and aide-de-camp rises through the fog on that
side, and he hastens up to NAPOLEON and his companions, to whom
the officer announces what has happened. DAVOUT rides off,
disappearing legs first into the white stratum that covers the
attack.]

Lannes and Murat, you have concern enough
Here on the left, with Prince Bagration
And all the Austro-Russian cavalry.
Haste off. The victory promising to-day
Will, like a thunder-clap, conclude the war!

[The Marshals with their aides gallop away towards their respective
divisions. Soon the two divisions under SOULT are seen ascending
in close column the inclines of the Pratzen height. Thereupon the
heads of the Russian centre columns disclose themselves, breaking
the sky-line of the summit from the other side, in a desperate
attempt to regain the position vacated by the Russian left. A
fierce struggle develops there between SOULT'S divisions and these,
who, despite their tardy attempt to recover the lost post of
dominance, are pressed by the French off the slopes into the
lowland.]


SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES (aerial music)

O Great Necessitator, heed us now!
If it indeed must be
That this day Austria smoke with slaughtery,
Quicken the issue as Thou knowest how;
And dull their lodgment in a flesh that galls!


SEMICHORUS II

If it be in the future human story
To lift this man to yet intenser glory,
Let the exploit be done
With the least sting, or none,
To those, his kind, at whose expense such pitch is won!


SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Again ye deprecate the World-Soul's way
That I so long have told? Then note anew
(Since ye forget) the ordered potencies,
Nerves, sinews, trajects, eddies, ducts of It
The Eternal Urger, pressing change on change.

[At once, as earlier, a preternatural clearness possesses the
atmosphere of the battle-field, in which the scene becomes
anatomized and the living masses of humanity transparent. The
controlling Immanent Will appears therein, as a brain-like
network of currents and ejections, twitching, interpenetrating,
entangling, and thrusting hither and thither the human forms.]


SEMICHORUS I OF IRONIC SPIRITS (aerial music)

O Innocents, can ye forget
That things to be were shaped and set
Ere mortals and this planet met?


SEMICHORUS II

Stand ye apostrophizing That
Which, working all, works but thereat
Like some sublime fermenting-vat.


SEMICHORUS I

Heaving throughout its vast content
With strenuously transmutive bent
Though of its aim insentient?--


SEMICHORUS II

Could ye have seen Its early deeds
Ye would not cry, as one who pleads
For quarter, when a Europe bleeds!


SEMICHORUS I

Ere ye, young Pities, had upgrown
From out the deeps where mortals moan
Against a ruling not their own,


SEMICHORUS II

He of the Years beheld, and we,
Creation's prentice artistry
Express in forms that now unbe


SEMICHORUS I

Tentative dreams from day to day;
Mangle its types, re-knead the clay
In some more palpitating way;


SEMICHORUS II

Beheld the rarest wrecked amain,
Whole nigh-perfected species slain
By those that scarce could boast a brain;


SEMICHORUS I

Saw ravage, growth, diminish, add,
Here peoples sane, there peoples mad,
In choiceless throws of good and bad;


SEMICHORUS II

Heard laughters at the ruthless dooms
Which tortured to the eternal glooms
Quick, quivering hearts in hecatombs.


CHORUS

Us Ancients, then, it ill befits
To quake when Slaughter's spectre flits
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.
And--can it be a messenger for me!


WILTSHIRE

I hope no ugly European news
To stop the honour of this visit, sir!

[They listen. The gallop of the horse grows louder, and is
checked at the door of the house. There is a hasty knocking,
and a courier, splashed with mud from hard riding, is shown
into the gallery. He presents a dispatch to PITT, who sits
down and hurriedly opens it.]


PITT (to himself)

O heavy news indeed! . . . Disastrous; dire!

[He appears overcome as he sits, and covers his forehead with
his hand.]


WILTSHIRE

I trust you are not ill, sir?


PITT (after some moments)

Could I have
A little brandy, sir, quick brought to me?


WILTSHIRE

In one brief minute.

[Brandy is brought in, and PITT takes it.]


PITT

Now leave me, please, alone. I'll call anon.
Is there a map of Europe handy here?

[WILTSHIRE fetches a map from the library, and spreads it before
the minister. WILTSHIRE, courier, and servant go out.]

O God that I should live to see this day!

[He remains awhile in a profound reverie; then resumes the reading
of the dispatch.]

"Defeated--the Allies--quite overthrown
At Austerlitz--last week."--Where's Austerlitz?
--But what avails it where the place is now;
What corpse is curious on the longitude
And situation of his cemetery! . . .
The Austrians and the Russians overcome,
That vast adventuring army is set free
To bend unhindered strength against our strand. . . .
So do my plans through all these plodding years
Announce them built in vain!
His heel on Europe, monarchies in chains
To France, I am as though I had never been!

[He gloomily ponders the dispatch and the map some minutes longer.
At last he rises with difficulty, and rings the bell. A servant
enters.]

Call up my carriage, please you, now at once;
And tell your master I return to Bath
This moment--I may want a little help
In getting to the door here.


SERVANT

Sir, I will,
And summon you my master instantly.

[He goes out and re-enters with WILTSHIRE. PITT is assisted from
the room.]


PITT

Roll up that map. 'Twill not be needed now
These ten years! Realms, laws, peoples, dynasties,
Are churning to a pulp within the maw
Of empire-making Lust and personal Gain!

[Exeunt PITT, WILTSHIRE, and the servant; and in a few minutes the
carriage is heard driving off, and the scene closes.]



SCENE VII

PARIS. A STREET LEADING TO THE TUILERIES

[It is night, and the dim oil lamps reveal a vast concourse of
citizens of both sexes around the Palace gates and in the
neighbouring thoroughfares.]


SPIRIT OF THE YEARS (to the Spirit of Rumour)

Thou may'st descend and join this crowd awhile,
And speak what things shall come into they mouth.


SPIRIT SINISTER

I'll harken! I wouldn't miss it for the groans on another
Austerlitz!

[The Spirit of Rumour enters on the scene in the disguise of a
young foreigner.]


SPIRIT (to a street-woman)

Lady, a late hour this to be afoot!


WOMAN

Poor profit, then, to me from my true trade,
Wherein hot competition is so rife
Already, since these victories brought to town
So many foreign jobbers in my line,
That I'd best hold my tongue from praise of fame!
However, one is caught by popular zeal,
And though five midnights have not brought a sou,
I, too, chant _Jubilate_ like the rest.--

In courtesies have haughty monarchs vied
Towards the Conqueror! who, with men-at-arms
One quarter theirs, has vanquished by his nerve
Vast mustering four-hundred-thousand strong,
And given new tactics to the art of war
Unparalleled in Europe's history!


SPIRIT

What man is this, whose might thou blazonest so--
Who makes the earth to tremble, shakes old thrones,
And turns the plains to wilderness?


WOMAN

Dost ask
As ignorant, yet asking can define?
What mean you, traveller?


SPIRIT

I am a stranger here,
A wandering wight, whose life has not been spent
This side the globe, though I can speak the tongue.


WOMAN

Your air has truth in't; but your state is strange!
Had I a husband he should tackle thee.


SPIRIT

Dozens thou hast had--batches more than she
Samaria knew, if now thou hast not one!


WOMAN

Wilt take the situation from this hour?


SPIRIT

Thou know'st not what thy frailty asks, good dame!


WOMAN

Well, learn in small the Emperor's chronicle,
As gleaned from what my soldier-husbands say:--
some five-and-forty standards of his foes
Are brought to Paris, borne triumphantly
In proud procession through the surging streets,
Ever as brands of fame to shine aloft
In dim-lit senate-halls and city aisles.


SPIRIT

Fair Munich sparkled with festivity
As there awhile he tarried, and was met
By the gay Josephine your Empress here.--
There, too, Eugene--


WOMAN

Napoleon's stepson he---


SPIRIT

Received for gift the hand of fair Princess
Augusta (daughter of Bavaria's crown,
Forced from her plighted troth to Baden's heir),
And, to complete his honouring, was hailed
Successor to the throne of Italy.


WOMAN

How know you, ere this news has got abroad?


SPIRIT

Channels have I the common people lack.--
There, on the nonce, the forenamed Baden prince
Was joined to Stephanie Beauharnais, her
Who stands as daughter to the man we wait,
Some say as more.


WOMAN
They do? Then such not I.
Can revolution's dregs so soil thy soul
That thou shouldst doubt the eldest son thereof?
'Tis dangerous to insinuate nowadays!


SPIRIT

Right! Lady many-spoused, more charity
Upbrims in thee than in some loftier ones
Who would not name thee with their white-washed tongues.--
Enough. I am one whom, didst thou know my name,
Thou would'st not grudge a claim to speak his mind.


WOMAN

A thousand pardons, sir.


SPIRIT

Resume thy tale
If so thou wishest.


WOMAN

Nay, but you know best---


SPIRIT

How laurelled progress through applauding crowds
Have marked his journey home. How Strasburg town,
Stuttgart, Carlsruhe, acclaimed him like the rest:
How pageantry would here have welcomed him,
Had not his speed outstript intelligence
--Now will a glimpse of him repay thee. Hark!

[Shouts arise and increase in the distance, announcing BONAPARTE'S
approach.]

Well, Buonaparte has revived by land,
But not by sea. On that thwart element
Never will he incorporate his dream,
And float as master!


WOMAN

What shall hinder him?


SPIRIT

That which has hereto. England, so to say.


WOMAN

But she's in straits. She lost her Nelson now,
(A worthy man: he loved a woman well!)
George drools and babbles in a darkened room;
Her heaven-born Minister declines apace;
All smooths the Emperor's sway.


SPIRIT

Tales have two sides,
Sweet lady. Vamped-up versions reach thee here.--
That Austerlitz was lustrous none ignores,
But would it shock thy garrulousness to know
That the true measure of this Trafalgar--
Utter defeat, ay, France's naval death--
Your Emperor bade be hid?


WOMAN

The seer's gift
Has never plenteously endowed me, sir,
As in appearance you. But to plain sense
Thing's seem as stated.


SPIRIT

We'll let seemings be.--
But know, these English take to liquid life
Right patly--nursed therefor in infancy
By rimes and rains which creep into their blood,
Till like seeks like. The sea is their dry land,
And, as on cobbles you, they wayfare there.


WOMAN

Heaven prosper, then, their watery wayfarings
If they'll leave us the land!--(The Imperial carriage appears.)
The Emperor!--
Long live the Emperor!--He's the best by land.

[BONAPARTE'S carriage arrives, without an escort. The street
lamps shine in, and reveal the EMPRESS JOSEPHINE seated beside
him. The plaudits of the people grow boisterous as they hail
him Victor of Austerlitz. The more active run after the carriage,
which turns in from the Rue St. Honore to the Carrousel, and
thence vanishes into the Court of the Tuileries.]


WOMAN

May all success attend his next exploit!


SPIRIT

Namely: to put the knife in England's trade,
And teach her treaty-manners--if he can!


WOMAN

I like not your queer knowledge, creepy man.
There's weirdness in your air. I'd call you ghost
Had not the Goddess Reason laid all such
Past Mother Church's cunning to restore.
--Adieu. I'll not be yours to-night. I'd starve first!

[She withdraws. The crowd wastes away, and the Spirit vanishes.]



SCENE VIII

PUTNEY. BOWLING GREEN HOUSE

[PITT'S bedchamber, from the landing without. It is afternoon.
At the back of the room as seen through the doorway is a curtained
bed, beside which a woman sits, the LADY HESTER STANHOPE. Bending
over a table at the front of the room is SIR WALTER FARQUHAR, the
physician. PARSLOW the footman and another servant are near the
door. TOMLINE, the Bishop of Lincoln, enters.]

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