The Dynasts: An Epic-Drama of the War with Napoleon Part 124

VOICE OF ANOTHER OFFICER

Ah no, my lord.

That was the wife of Prescott of the Seventh, Hoping beneath the heel of hopelessness, As these young women will!--Just about sunset She found him lying dead and b.l.o.o.d.y there, And in the dusk we bore them both away.[18]

VOICE OF WELLINGTON

Well, I'm d.a.m.ned sorry for her. Though I wish The women-folk would keep them to the rear: Much awkwardness attends their pottering round!

[The talking shapes disappear, and as the features of the field grow undistinguishable the comparative quiet is broken by gay notes from guitars and castanets in the direction of the city, and other sounds of popular rejoicing at Wellington's victory.

People come dancing out from the town, and the merry-making continues till midnight, when it ceases, and darkness and silence prevail everywhere.]

SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music]

What are s.p.a.ce and Time? A fancy!-- Lo, by Vision's necromancy Muscovy will now unroll; Where for cork and olive-tree Starveling firs and birches be.

SEMICHORUS II

Though such features lie afar From events Peninsular, These, amid their dust and thunder, Form with those, as scarce asunder, Parts of one compacted whole.

CHORUS

Marmont's aide, then, like a swallow Let us follow, follow, follow, Over hill and over hollow, Past the plains of Teute and Pole!

[There is semblance of a sound in the darkness as of a rushing through the air.]

SCENE IV

THE FIELD OF BORODINO

[Borodino, seventy miles west of Moscow, is revealed in a bird's- eye view from a point above the position of the French Grand Army, advancing on the Russian capital.

We are looking east, towards Moscow and the army of Russia, which bars the way thither. The sun of latter summer, sinking behind our backs, floods the whole prospect, which is mostly wild, uncultivated land with patches of birch-trees. NAPOLEON'S army has just arrived on the scene, and is making its bivouac for the night, some of the later regiments not having yet come up. A dropping fire of musketry from skirmishers ahead keeps snapping through the air. The Emperor's tent stands in a ravine in the foreground amid the squares of the Old Guard. Aides and other officers are chatting outside.

Enter NAPOLEON, who dismounts, speaks to some of his suite, and disappears inside his tent. An interval follows, during which the sun dips.

Enter COLONEL FABVRIER, aide-de-camp of MARMONT, just arrived from Spain. An officer-in-waiting goes into NAPOLEON'S tent to announce FABVRIER, the Colonel meanwhile talking to those outside.]

AN AIDE

Important tidings thence, I make no doubt?

FABVRIER

Marmont repulsed on Salamanca field, And well-nigh slain, is the best tale I bring!

[A silence. A coughing heard in NAPOLEON'S tent.]

Whose rheumy throat distracts the quiet so?

AIDE

The Emperor's. He is thus the livelong day.

[COLONEL FABVRIER is shown into the tent. An interval. Then the husky accents of NAPOLEON within, growing louder and louder.]

VOICE OF NAPOLEON

If Marmont--so I gather from these lines-- Had let the English and the Spanish be, They would have bent from Salamanca back, Offering no battle, to our profiting!

We should have been delivered this disaster, Whose bruit will harm us more than aught besides That has befallen in Spain!

VOICE OF FABVRIER

I fear so, sire.

VOICE OF NAPOLEON

He forced a conflict, to cull laurel crowns Before King Joseph should arrive to share them!

VOICE OF FABVRIER

The army's ardour for your Majesty, Its courage, its devotion to your cause, Cover a myriad of the Marshal's sins.

VOICE OF NAPOLEON

Why gave he battle without biddance, pray, From the supreme commander? Here's the crime Of insubordination, root of woes!...

The time well chosen, and the battle won, The English succours there had sidled off, And their annoy in the Peninsula Embarra.s.sed us no more. Behoves it me, Some day, to face this Wellington myself!

Marmont too plainly is no match for him....

Thus he goes on: "To have preserved command I would with joy have changed this early wound For foulest mortal stroke at fall of day.

One baleful moment d.a.m.nified the fruit Of six weeks' wise strategics, whose result Had loomed so certain!"--[Satirically] Well, we've but his word As to their wisdom! To define them thus Would not have struck me but for his good prompting!...

No matter: On Moskowa's banks to-morrow I'll mend his faults upon the Arapeile.

I'll see how I can treat this Russian horde Which English gold has brought together here From the four corners of the universe....

Adieu. You'd best go now and take some rest.

[FABVRIER reappears from the tent and goes. Enter DE BAUSSET.]