ACT SECONDSCENE ITHE PYRENEES AND VALLEYS ADJOINING[The view is from upper air, immediately over the region thatlies between Bayonne on the north, Pampeluna on the south, andSan Sebastian on the west, including a portion of the Cantabrianmountains. The month is February, and snow covers not only thepeaks but the lower slopes. The roads over the passes are wellbeaten.]DUMB SHOWAt various elevations multitudes of NAPOLÉON’S soldiery, to thenumber of about thirty thousand, are discerned in a creepingprogress across the frontier from the French to the Spanish side.The thin long columns serpentine along the roads, but are sometimesbroken, while at others they disappear altogether behind verticalrocks and overhanging woods. The heavy guns and the whitey-browntilts of the baggage-waggons seem the largest objects in theprocession, which are dragged laboriously up the incline to thewatershed, their lumbering being audible as high as the clouds.Simultaneously the river Bidassoa, in a valley to the west, isbeing crossed by a train of artillery and another thirty thousandmen, all forming part of the same systematic advance.Along the great highway through Biscay the wondering nativecarters draw their sheep-skinned ox-teams aside, to let theregiments pass, and stray groups of peaceable field-workersin Navarre look inquiringly at the marching and prancingprogress.Time passes, and the various northern strongholds are approachedby these legions. Their governors emerge at a summons, and whenseeming explanations have been given the unwelcome comers aredoubtfully admitted.The chief places to which entrance is thus obtained are Pampelunaand San Sebastian at the front of the scene, and far away towardsthe shining horizon of the Mediterranean, Figueras, and Barcelona.Dumb Show concludes as the mountain mists close over.SCENE IIARANJUEZ, NEAR MADRID. A ROOM IN THE PALACE OF GODOY, THE “PRINCEOF PEACE”[A private chamber is disclosed, richly furnished with paintings,vases, mirrors, silk hangings, gilded lounges, and several lutesof rare workmanship. The hour is midnight, the room being litby screened candelabra. In the centre at the back of the sceneis a large window heavily curtained.GODOY and the QUEEN MARÍA LUISA are dallying on a sofa. THEPRINCE OF PEACE is a fine handsome man in middle life, withcurled hair and a mien of easy good-nature. The QUEEN is older,but looks younger in the dim light, from the lavish use ofbeautifying arts. She has pronounced features, dark eyes, lowbrows, black hair bound by a jewelled bandeau, and brought forwardin curls over her forehead and temples, long heavy ear-rings, anopen bodice, and sleeves puffed at the shoulders. A cloak andother mufflers lie on a chair beside her.]GODOYThe life-guards still insist, Love, that the KingShall not leave Aranjuez.QUEENLet them insist.Whether we stay, or whether we depart,Napoléon soon draws hither with his host!GODOYHe says he comes pacifically.... But no!QUEENDearest, we must away to Andalusia,Thence to America when time shall serve.GODOYI hold seven thousand men to cover us,And ships in Cadiz port. But then—the PrinceFlatly declines to go. He lauds the FrenchAs true deliverers.QUEENGo Fernando MUST!...O my sweet friend, that we—our sole two selves—Could but escape and leave the rest to fate,And in a western bower dream out our days!—For the King’s glass can run but briefly now,Shattered and shaken as his vigour is.—But ah—your love burns not in singleness!Why, dear, caress Josefa Tudo still?She does not solve her soul in yours as I.And why those others even more than her?...How little own I in thee!GODOYSuch must be.I cannot quite forsake them. Don’t forgetThe same scope has been yours in former years.QUEENYes, Love; I know. I yield! You cannot leave them;But if you ever would bethink yourselfHow long I have been yours, how truly allThose other pleasures were my desperate shiftsTo soften sorrow at your absences,You would be faithful to me!GODOYTrue, my dear.—Yet I do passably keep troth with you,And fond you with fair regularity;—A week beside you, and a week away.Such is not schemed without some risk and strain.—And you agreed Josefa should be mine,And, too, Thereza without jealousy! [A noise is heard without.]Ah, what means that?[He jumps up from her side and crosses the room to a window,where he lifts the curtain cautiously. The Queen follows himwith a scared look.QUEENA riot can it be?GODOYLet me put these out ere they notice them;They think me at the Royal Palace yonder.[He hastily extinguishes the candles except one taper, whichhe places in a recess, so that the room is in shade. He thendraws back the curtains, and she joins him at the window, where,enclosing her with his arm, he and she look out together.In front of the house a guard of hussars is stationed, beyondthem spreading the Plaza or Square. On the other side rises inthe lamplight the white front of the Royal Palace. On the flankof the Palace is a wall enclosing gardens, bowered alleys, andorange groves, and in the wall a small door.A mixed multitude of soldiery and populace fills the space infront of the King’s Palace, and they shout and address each othervehemently. During a lull in their vociferations is heard thepeaceful purl of the Tagus over a cascade in the Palace grounds.]QUEENLingering, we’ve risked too long our chance of flight!The Paris Terror will repeat it here.Not for myself I fear. No, no; for thee! [She clings to him.]If they should hurt you, it would murder meBy heart-bleedings and stabs intolerable!GODOY [kissing her]The first thought now is how to get you backWithin the Palace walls. Why would you riskTo come here on a night so critical?QUEEN [passionately]I could not help it—nay, I WOULD not help!Rather than starve my soul I venture all.—Our last love-night—last, maybe, of long years,Why do you chide me now?GODOYDear Queen, I do not:I shape these sharp regrets but for your sake.Hence you must go, somehow, and quickly too.They think not yet of you in threatening thus,But of me solely.... Where does your lady wait?QUEENBelow. One servant with her. They are true,And can be let know all. But you—but you! [Uproar continues.]GODOYI can escape. Now call them. All three cloakAnd veil as when you came.[They retreat into the room. QUEEN MARÍA LUISA’S lady-in-waitingand servant are summoned. Enter both. All three then mufflethemselves up, and GODOY prepares to conduct the QUEEN downstairs.]QUEENNay, now! I will not have it. We are safe;Think of yourself. Can you get out behind?GODOYI judge so—when I have done what’s needful here.—The mob knows not the bye-door—slip across;Thence around sideways.—All’s clear there as yet.[The QUEEN, her lady-in-waiting, and the servant go outhurriedly.GODOY looks again from the window. The mob is some way off, theimmediate front being for the moment nearly free of loiterers; andthe three muffled figures are visible, crossing without hindrancetowards the door in the wall of the Palace Gardens. The instantthey reach it a sentinel springs up, challenging them.]GODOYAh—now they are doomed! My God, why did she come![A parley takes place. Something, apparently a bribe, is handedto the sentinel, and the three are allowed to slip in, the QUEENhaving obviously been unrecognized. He breathes his relief.]Now for the others. Then—ah, then Heaven knows![He sounds a bell and a servant enters.Where is the Countess of Castillofiel?SERVANTShe’s looking for you, Prince.GODOYFind her at once.Ah—here she is.—That’s well.—Go watch the Plaza [to servant].[GODOY’S mistress, the DOÑA JOSEFA TUDO, enters. She is a youngand beautiful woman, the vivacity of whose large dark eyes isnow clouded. She is wrapped up for flight. The servant goes out.]JOSEFA [breathlessly]I should have joined you sooner, but I knewThe Queen was fondling with you. She must needsCome hampering you this night of all the rest,As if not gorged with you at other times!GODOYDon’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 howI am compelled to let her have her mind![He kisses her repeatedly.]JOSEFABut look, the mob is swelling! Pouring inBy thousands from Madrid—and all afoot.Will they not come on hither from the King’s?GODOYNot 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 downSo far as I may venture.[They leave the room. In a few minutes GODOY, having taken herdown, re-enters and again looks out. JOSEFA’S coach is movingoff with a small escort of GODOY’S guards of honour. A suddenyelling begins, and the crowd rushes up and stops the vehicle.An altercation ensues.]CROWDUncle 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 ladyonly, the Countess of Castillofiel.MONTIJOLet her pass, let her pass, friends! It is only that pretty wenchof his, Pepa Tudo, who calls herself a Countess. Our titles areput to comical uses these days. We shall catch the cock-birdpresently![The DOÑA JOSEFA’S carriage is allowed to pass on, as a shoutfrom some who have remained before the Royal Palace attracts theattention of the multitude, which surges back thither.]CROWD [nearing the Palace]Call out the King and the Prince. Long live the King! He shall notgo. Hola! He is gone! Let us see him! He shall abandon Godoy![The clamour before the Royal Palace still increasing, a figureemerges upon a balcony, whom GODOY recognizes by the lamplightto be FERNANDO, Prince of Asturias. He can be seen waving hishand. The mob grows suddenly silent.]FERNANDO [in a shaken voice]Citizens! the King my father is in the palace with the Queen. Hehas been much tried to-day.CROWDPromise, Prince, that he shall not leave us. Promise!FERNANDOI do. I promise in his name. He has mistaken you, thinking youwanted his head. He knows better now.CROWDThe villain Godoy misrepresented us to him! Throw out the Princeof Peace!FERNANDOHe is not here, my friends.CROWDThen the King shall announce to us that he has dismissed him! Letus see him. The King; the King![FERNANDO goes in. KING CARLOS comes out reluctantly, and bowsto their cheering. He produces a paper with a trembling hand.KING [reading]“As it is the wish of the people—-”CROWDSpeak up, your Majesty!KING [more loudly]“As it is the wish of the people, I release Don Manuel Godoy, Princeof Peace, from the posts of Generalissimo of the Army and GrandAdmiral of the Fleet, and give him leave to withdraw whither hepleases.”CROWDHuzza!KINGCitizens, to-morrow the decree is to be posted in Madrid.CROWDHuzza! 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, asif deliberating how to attack it. GODOY retreats from thewindow into the room, and gazing round him starts. A pale,worn, but placid lady, in a sombre though elegant robe, standshere in the gloom. She is THEREZA OF BOURBON, the Princess ofPeace.]PRINCESSIt 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.PRINCESSI don’t recognize why you should specially value my comfort. Youhave saved you real wives. How can it matter what happens toyour titular one?GODOYMuch, dear. I always play fair. But it being your blest privilegenot to need my saving I was left free to practise it on those whodid. [Mob heard approaching.] Would that I were in no more dangerthan you!PRINCESSPuf![He again peers out. His guard of hussars stands firmly in frontof the mansion; but the life-guards from the adjoining barracks,who have joined the people, endeavour to break the hussars ofGODOY. A shot is fired, GODOY’S guard yields, and the gate anddoor are battered in.CROWD [without]Murder him! murder him! Death to Manuel Godoy![They are heard rushing onto the court and house.]PRINCESSGo, I beseech you! You can do nothing for me, and I pray you tosave yourself! The heap of mats in the lumber-room will hide you![GODOY hastes to a jib-door concealed by sham bookshelves, pressesthe spring of it, returns, kisses her, and then slips out.His wife sits down with her back against the jib-door, and fansherself. She hears the crowd trampling up the stairs, but shedoes not move, and in a moment people burst in. The leaders arearmed with stakes, daggers, and various improvised weapons, andsome guards in undress appear with halberds.]FIRST CITIZEN [peering into the dim light]Where is he? Murder him! [Noticing the Princess.] Come, whereis he?PRINCESSThe Prince of Peace is gone. I know not wither.SECOND CITIZENWho is this lady?LIFE-GUARDSMANManuel Godoy’s Princess.CITIZENS [uncovering]Princess, a thousand pardons grant us!—youAn 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 CITIZENBut this, Senora, is no place for you,For we mean mischief here! Yet first will grantSafe conduct for you to the Palace gates,Or elsewhere, as you wishPRINCESSMy 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 roomand out of the house. Those remaining, now a great throng, beginsearching 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 womanof honour.FIRST CITIZEN [drily]She’s his wife.[They begin knocking the furniture to pieces, tearing down thehangings, trampling on the musical instruments, and kicking holesthrough the paintings they have unhung from the walls. These,with clocks, vases, carvings, and other movables, they throw outof the window, till the chamber is a scene of utter wreck anddesolation. In the rout a musical box is swept off a table, andstarts playing a serenade as it falls on the floor. Enter theCOUNT OF MONTIJO.]MONTIJOStop, 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 notHis 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 uponthe floor plays on, the taper burns to its socket, and the roombecomes wrapt in the shades of night.]SCENE IIILONDON: 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 isempty and in gloom. At one end is an elaborate device, representingBritannia offering her assistance to Spain, and at the other afigure of Time crowning the Spanish Patriots’ flag with laurel.]SPIRIT OF THE YEARSO clarionists of human welterings,Relate how Europe’s madding movement bringsThis easeful haunt into the path of palpitating things!RUMOURS [chanting]The Spanish King has bowed unto the FateWhich bade him abdicate:The sensual Queen, whose passionate capriceHas 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 heHenceforth displace the Bourbon dynasty.IIThe Spanish people, handled in such sort,As chattels of a Court,Dream dreams of England. Messengers are sentIn secret to the assembled Parliament,In faith that England’s handWill stouten them to stand,And crown a cause which, hold they, bond and freeMust advocate enthusiastically.SPIRIT OF THE YEARSSo the Will heaves through Space, and moulds the times,With mortals for Its fingers! We shall seeAgain men’s passions, virtues, visions, crimes,Obey resistlesslyThe purposive, unmotived, dominant ThingWhich sways in brooding dark their wayfaring![The reception room is lighted up, and the hostess comes in. Therearrive Ambassadors and their wives, the Dukes and Duchesses ofRUTLAND and SOMERSET, the Marquis and Marchioness of STAFFORD,the Earls of STAIR, WESTMORELAND, GOWER, ESSEX, Viscounts andViscountesses CRANLEY and MORPETH, Viscount MELBOURNE, Lord andLady KINNAIRD, Baron de ROLLE, Lady CHARLES GRENVILLE, the LadiesCAVENDISH, Mr. and Mrs. THOMAS HOPE, MR. GUNNING, MRS. FITZHERBERT,and many other notable personages. Lastly, she goes to the doorto 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 yetarrived. I doubt not but that they have been delayed by theirignorance of the town, and will soon be here.PRINCE OF WALESNo hurry whatever, my dear hostess. Gad, we’ve enough to talk about!I understand that the arrangement between our ministers and thesenoblemen will include the liberation of Spanish prisoners in thiscountry, and the providing ’em with arms, to go back and fight fortheir independence.LADY SALISBURYIt will be a blessed event if they do check the career of thisinfamous Corsican. I have just heard that that poor foreignerGuillet de la Gevrillière, who proposed to Mr. Fox to assassinatehim, died a miserable death a few days ago the Bicetre—probablyby torture, though nobody knows. Really one almost wishes Mr. Foxhad—-. 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 WALESBy gad, Viscount, we were just talking of ’ee. You had someadventures in getting to this country?MATEROSA [assisted by Bagot as interpreter]Sir, it has indeed been a trying experience for us. But here weare, impressed by a deep sense of gratitude for the signal marks ofattachment your country has shown us.PRINCE OF WALESYou represent, practically, the Spanish people?MATEROSAWe are immediately deputed, sir,By the Assembly of Asturias,More sailing soon from other provinces.We bring official writings, charging usTo clinch and solder Treaties with this realmThat may promote our cause against the foe.Nextly a letter to your gracious King;Also a Proclamation, soon to soundAnd swell the pulse of the Peninsula,Declaring that the act by which King CarlosAnd his son Prince Fernando cede the throneTo whomsoever Napoléon may appoint,Being an act of cheatery, not of choice,Unfetters us from our allegiant oath.MRS. FITZHERBERTThe usurpation began, I suppose, with the divisions in the RoyalFamily?MATEROSAYes, madam, and the protection they foolishly requested from theEmperor; and their timid intent of flying secretly helped it on.It was an opportunity he had been awaiting for years.MRS. FITZHERBERTAll brought about by this man Godoy, Prince of Peace!PRINCE OF WALESDash my wig, mighty much you know about it, Maria! Why, sure,Boney thought to himself, “This Spain is a pretty place; ’twilljust suit me as an extra acre or two; so here goes.”DON DIEGO [aside to Bagot]This lady is the Princess of Wales?BAGOTHsh! no, Senor. The Princess lives at large at Kensington andother places, and has parties of her own, and doesn’t keep housewith her husband. This lady is—well, really his wife, you know,in the opinion of many; but—-DON DIEGOAh! Ladies a little mixed, as they were at our Court! She’s thePepa Tudo to THIS Prince of Peace?BAGOTO no—not exactly that, Senor.DON DIEGOYa, ya. Good. I’ll be careful, my friend. You are not saints inEngland more than we are in Spain!BAGOTWe are not. Only you sin with naked faces, and we with masks on.DON DIEGOVirtuous country!DUCHESS OF RUTLANDIt was understood that Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias, was to marrya French princess, and so unite the countries peacefully?MATEROSAIt was. And our credulous prince was tempted to meet Napoléon atBayonne. Also the poor simple King, and the infatuated Queen, andManuel Godoy.DUCHESS OF RUTLANDThen Godoy escaped from Aranjuez?MATEROSAYes, by hiding in the garret. Then they all threw themselvesupon Napoléon’s protection. In his presence the Queen sworethat the King was not Fernando’s father! Altogether they forma queer little menagerie. What will happen to them nobody knows.PRINCE OF WALESAnd do you wish us to send an army at once?MATEROSAWhat we most want, sir, are arms and ammunition. But we leave theEnglish Ministry to co-operate in its own wise way, anyhow, so asto sustain us in resenting these insults from the Tyrant of theEarth.DUCHESS OF RUTLAND [to the Prince of Wales]What sort of aid shall we send, sir?PRINCE OF WALESWe are going to vote fifty millions, I hear. We’ll whack him,and preserve your noble country for ’ee, Senor Viscount. Thedebate thereon is to come off to-morrow. It will be the finestthing the Commons have had since Pitt’s time. Sheridan, who isopen to it, says he and Canning are to be absolutely unanimous;and, by God, like the parties in his “Critic,” when Governmentand Opposition do agree, their unanimity is wonderful! ViscountMaterosa, you and your friends must be in the Gallery. O, dammy,you must!MATEROSASir, we are already pledged to be there.PRINCE OF WALESAnd hark ye, Senor Viscount. You will then learn what a mightyfine thing a debate in the English Parliament is! No Continentalhumbug there. Not but that the Court has a trouble to keep ’emin their places sometimes; and I would it had been one in theLords instead. However, Sheridan says he has been learning hisspeech these two days, and has hunted his father’s dictionarythrough for some stunning long words.—Now, Maria [to Mrs.Fitzherbert], I am going home.LADY SALISBURYAt last, then, England will take her place in the forefront ofthis mortal struggle, and in pure disinterestedness fight withall her strength for the European deliverance. God defend theright![The Prince of Wales leaves, and the other guests begin todepart.]SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music]Leave this glib throng to its conjecturing,And let four burdened weeks uncover what they bring!SEMICHORUS IIThe said Debate, to wit; its close in deed;Till England stands enlisted for the Patriots’ needs.SEMICHORUS IAnd transports in the docks gulp down their freightOf buckled fighting-flesh, and gale-bound, watch and wait.SEMICHORUS IITill gracious zephyrs shoulder on their sailsTo where the brine of Biscay moans its tragic tales.CHORUSBear 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, andthe point of view rapidly recedes south, London and its streetsand lights diminishing till they are lost in the distance, andits noises being succeeded by the babble of the Channel andBiscay waves.]SCENE IVMADRID AND ITS ENVIRONS[The view is from the housetops of the city on a dusty eveningin this July, following a day of suffocating heat. The sunburntroofs, warm ochreous walls, and blue shadows of the capital,wear their usual aspect except for a few feeble attempts atdecoration.]DUMB SHOWGazers gather in the central streets, and particularly in thePuerta del Sol. They show curiosity, but no enthusiasm. Patrolsof French soldiery move up and down in front of the people, andseem to awe them into quietude.There is a discharge of artillery in the outskirts, and the churchbells begin ringing; but the peals dwindle away to a melancholyjangle, and then to silence. Simultaneously, on the northernhorizon of the arid, unenclosed, and treeless plain swept by theeye around the city, a cloud of dust arises, and a Royal processionis seen nearing. It means the new king, JOSEPH BONAPARTE.He comes on, escorted by a clanking guard of four thousand Italiantroops, and the brilliant royal carriage is followed by a hundredcoaches bearing his suite. As the procession enters the city manyhouses reveal themselves to be closed, many citizens leave theroute and walk elsewhere, while may of those who remain turn theirbacks 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 ofthe nobility, the French generals who are in occupation there, andsome clergy. Heralds emerge from the Palace, and hasten to diverspoints in the city, where trumpets are blown and the Proclamationof JOSEPH as KING OF SPAIN is read in a loud voice. It is receivedin silence.The sunsets, and the curtain falls.SCENE VTHE OPEN SEA BETWEEN THE ENGLISH COASTS AND THE SPANISH PENINSULA[From high aloft, in the same July weather, and facing east, thevision swoops over the ocean and its coast-lines, from CorkHarbour on the extreme left, to Mondego Bay, Portugal, on theextreme right. Land’s End and the Scilly Isles, Ushant and CapeFinisterre, are projecting features along the middle distanceof the picture, and the English Channel recedes endwise as atapering avenue near the centre.]DUMB SHOWFour groups of moth-like transport ships are discovered silentlyskimming this wide liquid plain. The first group, to the right,is just vanishing behind Cape Mondego to enter Mondego Bay; thesecond, in the midst, has come out from Plymouth Sound, and ispreparing to stand down Channel; the third is clearing St. Helen’spoint for the same course; and the fourth, much further up Channel,is obviously to follow on considerably in the rear of the twopreceding. A south-east wind is blowing strong, and, according tothe part of their course reached, they either sail direct with thewind on their larboard quarter, or labour forward by tacking inzigzags.SPIRIT OF THE PITIESWhat are these fleets that cross the seaFrom British ports and baysTo coasts that glister southwardlyBehind the dog-day haze?RUMOURS [chanting]SEMICHORUS IThey are the shipped battalions sentTo bar the bold BelligerentWho stalks the Dancers’ Land.Within these hulls, like sheep a-pen,Are packed in thousands fighting-menAnd colonels in command.SEMICHORUS IIThe fleet that leans each aery finFar 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 soulsIn linesmen that the list enrolls,Borne onward by those sheeted polesAs war’s red retinue!SEMICHORUS IThe fleet that clears St. Helen’s shoreHolds Burrard, Hope, ill-omened Moore,Clinton and Paget; whileThe transports that pertain to thoseCount six-score sail, whose planks encloseTen thousand rank and file.SEMICHORUS IIThe third-sent ships, from Plymouth Sound,With Acland, Anstruther, impoundSouls to six thousand strong.While those, the fourth fleet, that we seeFar back, are lined with cavalry,And guns of girth, wheeled heavilyTo roll the routes along.SPIRIT OF THE YEARSEnough, 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 oftransports, convoyed by battleships, float on before the windalmost imperceptibly, like preened duck-feathers across a pond.The southernmost expedition, under SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY, sooncomes to anchor within the Bay of Mondego aforesaid, and thesoldiery are indefinitely discernible landing upon the beachfrom boats. Simultaneously the division commanded by MOORE, asyet in the Chops of the channel, is seen to be beaten back bycontrary winds. It gallantly puts to sea again, and being joinedby the division under ANSTRUTHER that has set out from Plymouth,labours round Ushant, and stands to the south in the track ofWELLESLEY. The rearward transports do the same.A moving stratum of summer cloud beneath the point of view coversup the spectacle like an awning.SCENE VIST. CLOUD. THE BOUDOIR OF JOSÉPHINE[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 stilluncurtained, can be seen the EMPRESS with NAPOLÉON and someladies and officers of the Court playing Catch-me-if-you-can bytorchlight on the lawn. The moving torches throw bizarre lightsand shadows into the apartment, where only a remote candle or twoare burning.Enter JOSÉPHINE and NAPOLÉON together, somewhat out of breath.With careless suppleness she slides down on a couch and fansherself. Now that the candle-rays reach her they show her mellowcomplexion, her velvety eyes with long lashes, mouth with pointedcorners and excessive mobility beneath itsduvet, and curls ofdark hair pressed down upon the temples by a gold band.The EMPEROR drops into a seat near her, and they remain in silencetill he jumps up, knocks over some nicknacks with his elbow, andbegins walking about the boudoir.]NAPOLÉON [with sudden gloom]These mindless games are very well, my friend;But ours to-night marks, not improbably,The last we play together.JOSÉPHINE [starting]Can you say it!Why raise that ghastly nightmare on me now,When, for a moment, my poor brain had dreamsDenied it all the earlier anxious day?NAPOLÉONThings that verge nigh, my simple Joséphine,Are not shoved off by wilful winking at.Better quiz evils with too strained an eyeThan have them leap from disregarded lairs.JOSÉPHINEMaybe ’tis true, and you shall have it so!—Yet there’s no joy save sorrow waived awhile.NAPOLÉONHa, ha! That’s like you. Well, each day by dayI get sour news. Each hour since we returnedFrom this queer Spanish business at Bayonne,I have had nothing else; and hence by brooding.JOSÉPHINEBut all went well throughout our touring-time?NAPOLÉONNot so—behind the scenes. Our arms a BaylenHave been smirched badly. Twenty thousand shamedAll through Dupont’s ill-luck! The selfsame dayMy brother Joseph’s progress to MadridWas glorious as a sodden rocket’s fizz!Since when his letters creak with querulousness.“Napoléon el chico” ’tis they call him—“Napoléon 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 downTo Mondego, under one Wellesley,A man from India, and his march is southTo Lisbon, by Vimiero. On he’ll goAnd do the devil’s mischief ere he is metBy unaware Junot, and chevyed backTo English fogs and fumes!JOSÉPHINEMy dearest one,You have mused on worse reports with better graceFull many and many a time. Ah—there is more!...I know; I know!NAPOLÉON [kicking away a stool]There is, of course; that wormTime ever keeps in hand for gnawing me!—The question of my dynasty—which bitesCloser and closer as the years wheel on.JOSÉPHINEOf course it’s that! For nothing else could hangMy lord on tenterhooks through nights and days;—Or rather, not the question, but the tonguesThat keep the question stirring. Nought recked youOf throne-succession or dynastic linesWhen gloriously engaged in Italy!I was your fairy then: they labelled meYour Lady of Victories; and much I joyed,Till dangerous ones drew near and daily sowedThese 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 dreadsThat my late happiness, and my late hope,Will oversoon be knelled!NAPOLÉON [genially nearing her]But years have passed since first we talked of it,And now, with loss of dear Hortense’s sonWho won me as my own, it looms forth more.And selfish ’tis in my good JoséphineTo blind her vision to the weal of France,And this great Empire’s solidarity.The grandeur of your sacrifice would gildYour life’s whole shape.JOSÉPHINEWere I as coarse a wifeAs I am limned in English caricature—[Those cruel effigies they draw of me!]—You could not speak more aridly.NAPOLÉONNay, nay!You know, my comrade, how I love you stillWere there a long-notorious dislikeBetwixt us, reason might be in your dreadsBut all earth knows our conjugality.There’s not a bourgeois couple in the landWho, should dire duty rule their severance,Could part with scanter scandal than could we.JOSÉPHINE [pouting]Nevertheless there’s one.NAPOLÉONA scandal? What?JOSÉPHINEMadame Walewska! How could you pretendWhen, after Jena, I’d have come to you,“The weather was so wild, the roads so rough,That no one of my sex and delicate nerveCould hope to face the dangers and fatigues.”Yes—so you wrote me, dear. They hurt not her!NAPOLÉON [blandly]She was a week’s adventure—not worth words!I say ’tis France.—I have held out for yearsAgainst the constant pressure brought on meTo null this sterile marriage.JOSÉPHINE [bursting into sobs]Me you blame!But how know you that you are not the culprit?NAPOLÉONI have reason so to know—if I must say.The Polish lady you have chosen to nameHas proved the fault not mine. [JOSÉPHINE sobs more violently.]Don’t cry, my cherished;It is not really amiable of you,Or prudent, my good little Joséphine,With so much in the balance.JOSÉPHINEHow—know you—What may not happen! Wait a—little longer!NAPOLÉON [playfully pinching her arm]O come, now, my adored! Haven’t I already!Nature’s a dial whose shade no hand puts back,Trick as we may! My friend, you are forty-threeThis very year in the world— [JOSÉPHINE breaks out sobbing again.]And in vain it isTo think of waiting longer; pitifulTo dream of coaxing shy fecundityTo an unlikely freak by physickingWith superstitious drugs and quackeriesThat work you harm, not good. The fact being so,I have looked it squarely down—against my heart!Solicitations voiced repeatedlyAt length have shown the soundness of their shape,And left me no denial. You, at times,My dear one, have been used to handle it.My brother Joseph, years back, frankly gaveHis honest view that something should be done;And he, you well know, shows no ill tinctIn his regard of you.JOSÉPHINEAnd what princess?NAPOLÉONFor wiving with? No thought was given to that,She shapes as vaguely as the Veiled—JOSÉPHINENo, no;It’s Alexander’s sister, I’m full sure!—But why this craze for home-made manikinsAnd lineage mere of flesh? You have said yourselfIt mattered not. Great Caesar, you declared,Sank sonless to his rest; was greater deemedEven for the isolation. FrederickSaw, too, no heir. It is the fate of such,Often, to be denied the common hopeAs fine for fulness in the rarer giftsThat Nature yields them. O my husband long,Will you not purge your soul to value bestThat high heredity from brain to brainWhich supersedes mere sequence of blood,That often vary more from sire to sonThan between furthest strangers!...Napoléon’s offspring in his like must lie;The second of his line be he who showsNapoléon’s soul in later bodiment,The household father happening as he may!NAPOLÉON [smilingly wiping her eyes]Little guessed I my dear would prove her rammedWith such a charge of apt philosophyWhen tutoring me gay arts in earlier times!She who at home coquetted through the yearsIn which I vainly penned her wishful wordsTo come and comfort me in Italy,Might, faith, have urged it then effectually!But never would you stir from Paris joys, [With some bitterness.]And so, when arguments like this could move me,I heard them not; and get them only nowWhen their weight dully falls. But I have said’Tis not for me, but France—Good-bye an hour. [Kissing her.]I must dictate some letters. This new moveOf England on Madrid may mean some trouble.Come, dwell not gloomily on this cold needOf waiving private joy for policy.We are but thistle-globes on Heaven’s high gales,And whither blown, or when, or how, or why,Can choose us not at all!...I’ll come to you anon, dear: staunch RoustanWill light me in.[Exit NAPOLÉON. The scene shuts in shadow.]SCENE VIIVIMIERO[A village among the hills of Portugal, about fifty miles northof Lisbon. Around it are disclosed, as ten on Sunday morningstrikes, a blue army of fourteen thousand men in isolated columns,and red army of eighteen thousand in line formation, drawn up inorder of battle. The blue army is a French one under JUNOT; theother an English one under SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY—portion of thatrecently landed.The August sun glares on the shaven faces, white gaiters, andwhite cross-belts of the English, who are to fight for theirlives while sweating under a quarter-hundredweight in knapsackand pouches, and with firelocks heavy as putlogs. They occupya group of heights, but their position is one of great danger,the land abruptly terminating two miles behind their backs inlofty cliffs overhanging the Atlantic. The French occupy thevalleys in the English front, and this distinction between thetwo forces strikes the eye—the red army is accompanied by scarceany cavalry, while the blue is strong in that area.]DUMB SHOWThe battle is begun with alternate moves that match each other likethose of a chess opening. JUNOT makes an oblique attack by movinga division to his right; WELLESLEY moves several brigades to hisleft to balance it.A column of six thousand French then climbs the hill against theEnglish centre, and drives in those who are planted there. TheEnglish artillery checks its adversaries, and the infantry recoverand charge the baffled French down the slopes. Meanwhile thelatter’s cavalry and artillery are attacking the village itself,and, rushing on a few squadrons of English dragoons stationed there,cut them to pieces. A dust is raised by this ado, and moans of menand shrieks of horses are heard. Close by the carnage the littleMaceira stream continues to trickle unconcernedly to the sea.On the English left five thousand French infantry, having ascendedto the ridge and maintained a stinging musket-fire as sharplyreturned, are driven down by the bayonets of six English regiments.Thereafter a brigade of the French, the northernmost, finding thatthe others have pursued to the bottom and are resting after theeffort, surprise them and bayonet them back to their original summit.The see-saw is continued by the recovery of the English, who againdrive their assailants down.The French army pauses stultified, till, the columns uniting, theyfall back toward the opposite hills. The English, seeing that theirchance has come, are about to pursue and settle the fortunes of theday. But a messenger dispatched from a distant group is markedriding up to the large-nosed man with a telescope and an Indiansword who, his staff around him, has been directing the Englishmovements. He seems astonished at the message, appears to resentit, and pauses with a gloomy look. But he sends countermands to hisgenerals, and the pursuit ends abortively.The French retreat without further molestation by a circuitous marchinto the great road to Torres Vedras by which they came, leavingnearly two thousand dead and wounded on the slopes they have quitted.Dumb Show ends and the curtain draws.
THE PYRENEES AND VALLEYS ADJOINING[The view is from upper air, immediately over the region thatlies between Bayonne on the north, Pampeluna on the south, andSan Sebastian on the west, including a portion of the Cantabrianmountains. The month is February, and snow covers not only thepeaks but the lower slopes. The roads over the passes are wellbeaten.]
DUMB SHOWAt various elevations multitudes of NAPOLÉON’S soldiery, to thenumber of about thirty thousand, are discerned in a creepingprogress across the frontier from the French to the Spanish side.The thin long columns serpentine along the roads, but are sometimesbroken, while at others they disappear altogether behind verticalrocks and overhanging woods. The heavy guns and the whitey-browntilts of the baggage-waggons seem the largest objects in theprocession, which are dragged laboriously up the incline to thewatershed, their lumbering being audible as high as the clouds.Simultaneously the river Bidassoa, in a valley to the west, isbeing crossed by a train of artillery and another thirty thousandmen, all forming part of the same systematic advance.Along the great highway through Biscay the wondering nativecarters draw their sheep-skinned ox-teams aside, to let theregiments pass, and stray groups of peaceable field-workersin Navarre look inquiringly at the marching and prancingprogress.Time passes, and the various northern strongholds are approachedby these legions. Their governors emerge at a summons, and whenseeming explanations have been given the unwelcome comers aredoubtfully admitted.The chief places to which entrance is thus obtained are Pampelunaand San Sebastian at the front of the scene, and far away towardsthe shining horizon of the Mediterranean, Figueras, and Barcelona.Dumb Show concludes as the mountain mists close over.
ARANJUEZ, NEAR MADRID. A ROOM IN THE PALACE OF GODOY, THE “PRINCEOF PEACE”[A private chamber is disclosed, richly furnished with paintings,vases, mirrors, silk hangings, gilded lounges, and several lutesof rare workmanship. The hour is midnight, the room being litby screened candelabra. In the centre at the back of the sceneis a large window heavily curtained.GODOY and the QUEEN MARÍA LUISA are dallying on a sofa. THEPRINCE OF PEACE is a fine handsome man in middle life, withcurled hair and a mien of easy good-nature. The QUEEN is older,but looks younger in the dim light, from the lavish use ofbeautifying arts. She has pronounced features, dark eyes, lowbrows, black hair bound by a jewelled bandeau, and brought forwardin curls over her forehead and temples, long heavy ear-rings, anopen bodice, and sleeves puffed at the shoulders. A cloak andother mufflers lie on a chair beside her.]
GODOYThe life-guards still insist, Love, that the KingShall not leave Aranjuez.
QUEENLet them insist.Whether we stay, or whether we depart,Napoléon soon draws hither with his host!
GODOYHe says he comes pacifically.... But no!
QUEENDearest, we must away to Andalusia,Thence to America when time shall serve.
GODOYI hold seven thousand men to cover us,And ships in Cadiz port. But then—the PrinceFlatly declines to go. He lauds the FrenchAs true deliverers.
QUEENGo Fernando MUST!...O my sweet friend, that we—our sole two selves—Could but escape and leave the rest to fate,And in a western bower dream out our days!—For the King’s glass can run but briefly now,Shattered and shaken as his vigour is.—But ah—your love burns not in singleness!Why, dear, caress Josefa Tudo still?She does not solve her soul in yours as I.And why those others even more than her?...How little own I in thee!
GODOYSuch must be.I cannot quite forsake them. Don’t forgetThe same scope has been yours in former years.
QUEENYes, Love; I know. I yield! You cannot leave them;But if you ever would bethink yourselfHow long I have been yours, how truly allThose other pleasures were my desperate shiftsTo soften sorrow at your absences,You would be faithful to me!
GODOYTrue, my dear.—Yet I do passably keep troth with you,And fond you with fair regularity;—A week beside you, and a week away.Such is not schemed without some risk and strain.—And you agreed Josefa should be mine,And, too, Thereza without jealousy! [A noise is heard without.]Ah, what means that?[He jumps up from her side and crosses the room to a window,where he lifts the curtain cautiously. The Queen follows himwith a scared look.
QUEENA riot can it be?
GODOYLet me put these out ere they notice them;They think me at the Royal Palace yonder.[He hastily extinguishes the candles except one taper, whichhe places in a recess, so that the room is in shade. He thendraws back the curtains, and she joins him at the window, where,enclosing her with his arm, he and she look out together.In front of the house a guard of hussars is stationed, beyondthem spreading the Plaza or Square. On the other side rises inthe lamplight the white front of the Royal Palace. On the flankof the Palace is a wall enclosing gardens, bowered alleys, andorange groves, and in the wall a small door.A mixed multitude of soldiery and populace fills the space infront of the King’s Palace, and they shout and address each othervehemently. During a lull in their vociferations is heard thepeaceful purl of the Tagus over a cascade in the Palace grounds.]
QUEENLingering, we’ve risked too long our chance of flight!The Paris Terror will repeat it here.Not for myself I fear. No, no; for thee! [She clings to him.]If they should hurt you, it would murder meBy heart-bleedings and stabs intolerable!
GODOY [kissing her]The first thought now is how to get you backWithin the Palace walls. Why would you riskTo come here on a night so critical?
QUEEN [passionately]I could not help it—nay, I WOULD not help!Rather than starve my soul I venture all.—Our last love-night—last, maybe, of long years,Why do you chide me now?
GODOYDear Queen, I do not:I shape these sharp regrets but for your sake.Hence you must go, somehow, and quickly too.They think not yet of you in threatening thus,But of me solely.... Where does your lady wait?
QUEENBelow. One servant with her. They are true,And can be let know all. But you—but you! [Uproar continues.]
GODOYI can escape. Now call them. All three cloakAnd veil as when you came.[They retreat into the room. QUEEN MARÍA LUISA’S lady-in-waitingand servant are summoned. Enter both. All three then mufflethemselves up, and GODOY prepares to conduct the QUEEN downstairs.]
QUEENNay, now! I will not have it. We are safe;Think of yourself. Can you get out behind?
GODOYI judge so—when I have done what’s needful here.—The mob knows not the bye-door—slip across;Thence around sideways.—All’s clear there as yet.[The QUEEN, her lady-in-waiting, and the servant go outhurriedly.GODOY looks again from the window. The mob is some way off, theimmediate front being for the moment nearly free of loiterers; andthe three muffled figures are visible, crossing without hindrancetowards the door in the wall of the Palace Gardens. The instantthey reach it a sentinel springs up, challenging them.]
GODOYAh—now they are doomed! My God, why did she come![A parley takes place. Something, apparently a bribe, is handedto the sentinel, and the three are allowed to slip in, the QUEENhaving obviously been unrecognized. He breathes his relief.]Now for the others. Then—ah, then Heaven knows![He sounds a bell and a servant enters.Where is the Countess of Castillofiel?
SERVANTShe’s looking for you, Prince.
GODOYFind her at once.Ah—here she is.—That’s well.—Go watch the Plaza [to servant].[GODOY’S mistress, the DOÑA JOSEFA TUDO, enters. She is a youngand beautiful woman, the vivacity of whose large dark eyes isnow clouded. She is wrapped up for flight. The servant goes out.]
JOSEFA [breathlessly]I should have joined you sooner, but I knewThe Queen was fondling with you. She must needsCome hampering you this night of all the rest,As if not gorged with you at other times!
GODOYDon’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 howI am compelled to let her have her mind![He kisses her repeatedly.]
JOSEFABut look, the mob is swelling! Pouring inBy thousands from Madrid—and all afoot.Will they not come on hither from the King’s?
GODOYNot 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 downSo far as I may venture.[They leave the room. In a few minutes GODOY, having taken herdown, re-enters and again looks out. JOSEFA’S coach is movingoff with a small escort of GODOY’S guards of honour. A suddenyelling begins, and the crowd rushes up and stops the vehicle.An altercation ensues.]
CROWDUncle 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 ladyonly, the Countess of Castillofiel.
MONTIJOLet her pass, let her pass, friends! It is only that pretty wenchof his, Pepa Tudo, who calls herself a Countess. Our titles areput to comical uses these days. We shall catch the cock-birdpresently![The DOÑA JOSEFA’S carriage is allowed to pass on, as a shoutfrom some who have remained before the Royal Palace attracts theattention of the multitude, which surges back thither.]
CROWD [nearing the Palace]Call out the King and the Prince. Long live the King! He shall notgo. Hola! He is gone! Let us see him! He shall abandon Godoy![The clamour before the Royal Palace still increasing, a figureemerges upon a balcony, whom GODOY recognizes by the lamplightto be FERNANDO, Prince of Asturias. He can be seen waving hishand. The mob grows suddenly silent.]
FERNANDO [in a shaken voice]Citizens! the King my father is in the palace with the Queen. Hehas been much tried to-day.
CROWDPromise, Prince, that he shall not leave us. Promise!
FERNANDOI do. I promise in his name. He has mistaken you, thinking youwanted his head. He knows better now.
CROWDThe villain Godoy misrepresented us to him! Throw out the Princeof Peace!
FERNANDOHe is not here, my friends.
CROWDThen the King shall announce to us that he has dismissed him! Letus see him. The King; the King![FERNANDO goes in. KING CARLOS comes out reluctantly, and bowsto their cheering. He produces a paper with a trembling hand.
KING [reading]“As it is the wish of the people—-”
CROWDSpeak up, your Majesty!
KING [more loudly]“As it is the wish of the people, I release Don Manuel Godoy, Princeof Peace, from the posts of Generalissimo of the Army and GrandAdmiral of the Fleet, and give him leave to withdraw whither hepleases.”
CROWDHuzza!
KINGCitizens, to-morrow the decree is to be posted in Madrid.
CROWDHuzza! 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, asif deliberating how to attack it. GODOY retreats from thewindow into the room, and gazing round him starts. A pale,worn, but placid lady, in a sombre though elegant robe, standshere in the gloom. She is THEREZA OF BOURBON, the Princess ofPeace.]
PRINCESSIt 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.
PRINCESSI don’t recognize why you should specially value my comfort. Youhave saved you real wives. How can it matter what happens toyour titular one?
GODOYMuch, dear. I always play fair. But it being your blest privilegenot to need my saving I was left free to practise it on those whodid. [Mob heard approaching.] Would that I were in no more dangerthan you!
PRINCESSPuf![He again peers out. His guard of hussars stands firmly in frontof the mansion; but the life-guards from the adjoining barracks,who have joined the people, endeavour to break the hussars ofGODOY. A shot is fired, GODOY’S guard yields, and the gate anddoor are battered in.
CROWD [without]Murder him! murder him! Death to Manuel Godoy![They are heard rushing onto the court and house.]
PRINCESSGo, I beseech you! You can do nothing for me, and I pray you tosave yourself! The heap of mats in the lumber-room will hide you![GODOY hastes to a jib-door concealed by sham bookshelves, pressesthe spring of it, returns, kisses her, and then slips out.His wife sits down with her back against the jib-door, and fansherself. She hears the crowd trampling up the stairs, but shedoes not move, and in a moment people burst in. The leaders arearmed with stakes, daggers, and various improvised weapons, andsome guards in undress appear with halberds.]
FIRST CITIZEN [peering into the dim light]Where is he? Murder him! [Noticing the Princess.] Come, whereis he?
PRINCESSThe Prince of Peace is gone. I know not wither.
SECOND CITIZENWho is this lady?
LIFE-GUARDSMANManuel Godoy’s Princess.
CITIZENS [uncovering]Princess, a thousand pardons grant us!—youAn 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 CITIZENBut this, Senora, is no place for you,For we mean mischief here! Yet first will grantSafe conduct for you to the Palace gates,Or elsewhere, as you wish
PRINCESSMy 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 roomand out of the house. Those remaining, now a great throng, beginsearching 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 womanof honour.
FIRST CITIZEN [drily]She’s his wife.[They begin knocking the furniture to pieces, tearing down thehangings, trampling on the musical instruments, and kicking holesthrough the paintings they have unhung from the walls. These,with clocks, vases, carvings, and other movables, they throw outof the window, till the chamber is a scene of utter wreck anddesolation. In the rout a musical box is swept off a table, andstarts playing a serenade as it falls on the floor. Enter theCOUNT OF MONTIJO.]
MONTIJOStop, 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 notHis 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 uponthe floor plays on, the taper burns to its socket, and the roombecomes wrapt in the shades of night.]
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 isempty and in gloom. At one end is an elaborate device, representingBritannia offering her assistance to Spain, and at the other afigure of Time crowning the Spanish Patriots’ flag with laurel.]
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSO clarionists of human welterings,Relate how Europe’s madding movement bringsThis easeful haunt into the path of palpitating things!
RUMOURS [chanting]The Spanish King has bowed unto the FateWhich bade him abdicate:The sensual Queen, whose passionate capriceHas 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 heHenceforth displace the Bourbon dynasty.
IIThe Spanish people, handled in such sort,As chattels of a Court,Dream dreams of England. Messengers are sentIn secret to the assembled Parliament,In faith that England’s handWill stouten them to stand,And crown a cause which, hold they, bond and freeMust advocate enthusiastically.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSSo the Will heaves through Space, and moulds the times,With mortals for Its fingers! We shall seeAgain men’s passions, virtues, visions, crimes,Obey resistlesslyThe purposive, unmotived, dominant ThingWhich sways in brooding dark their wayfaring![The reception room is lighted up, and the hostess comes in. Therearrive Ambassadors and their wives, the Dukes and Duchesses ofRUTLAND and SOMERSET, the Marquis and Marchioness of STAFFORD,the Earls of STAIR, WESTMORELAND, GOWER, ESSEX, Viscounts andViscountesses CRANLEY and MORPETH, Viscount MELBOURNE, Lord andLady KINNAIRD, Baron de ROLLE, Lady CHARLES GRENVILLE, the LadiesCAVENDISH, Mr. and Mrs. THOMAS HOPE, MR. GUNNING, MRS. FITZHERBERT,and many other notable personages. Lastly, she goes to the doorto 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 yetarrived. I doubt not but that they have been delayed by theirignorance of the town, and will soon be here.
PRINCE OF WALESNo hurry whatever, my dear hostess. Gad, we’ve enough to talk about!I understand that the arrangement between our ministers and thesenoblemen will include the liberation of Spanish prisoners in thiscountry, and the providing ’em with arms, to go back and fight fortheir independence.
LADY SALISBURYIt will be a blessed event if they do check the career of thisinfamous Corsican. I have just heard that that poor foreignerGuillet de la Gevrillière, who proposed to Mr. Fox to assassinatehim, died a miserable death a few days ago the Bicetre—probablyby torture, though nobody knows. Really one almost wishes Mr. Foxhad—-. 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 WALESBy gad, Viscount, we were just talking of ’ee. You had someadventures in getting to this country?
MATEROSA [assisted by Bagot as interpreter]Sir, it has indeed been a trying experience for us. But here weare, impressed by a deep sense of gratitude for the signal marks ofattachment your country has shown us.
PRINCE OF WALESYou represent, practically, the Spanish people?
MATEROSAWe are immediately deputed, sir,By the Assembly of Asturias,More sailing soon from other provinces.We bring official writings, charging usTo clinch and solder Treaties with this realmThat may promote our cause against the foe.Nextly a letter to your gracious King;Also a Proclamation, soon to soundAnd swell the pulse of the Peninsula,Declaring that the act by which King CarlosAnd his son Prince Fernando cede the throneTo whomsoever Napoléon may appoint,Being an act of cheatery, not of choice,Unfetters us from our allegiant oath.
MRS. FITZHERBERTThe usurpation began, I suppose, with the divisions in the RoyalFamily?
MATEROSAYes, madam, and the protection they foolishly requested from theEmperor; and their timid intent of flying secretly helped it on.It was an opportunity he had been awaiting for years.
MRS. FITZHERBERTAll brought about by this man Godoy, Prince of Peace!
PRINCE OF WALESDash my wig, mighty much you know about it, Maria! Why, sure,Boney thought to himself, “This Spain is a pretty place; ’twilljust suit me as an extra acre or two; so here goes.”
DON DIEGO [aside to Bagot]This lady is the Princess of Wales?
BAGOTHsh! no, Senor. The Princess lives at large at Kensington andother places, and has parties of her own, and doesn’t keep housewith her husband. This lady is—well, really his wife, you know,in the opinion of many; but—-
DON DIEGOAh! Ladies a little mixed, as they were at our Court! She’s thePepa Tudo to THIS Prince of Peace?
BAGOTO no—not exactly that, Senor.
DON DIEGOYa, ya. Good. I’ll be careful, my friend. You are not saints inEngland more than we are in Spain!
BAGOTWe are not. Only you sin with naked faces, and we with masks on.
DON DIEGOVirtuous country!
DUCHESS OF RUTLANDIt was understood that Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias, was to marrya French princess, and so unite the countries peacefully?
MATEROSAIt was. And our credulous prince was tempted to meet Napoléon atBayonne. Also the poor simple King, and the infatuated Queen, andManuel Godoy.
DUCHESS OF RUTLANDThen Godoy escaped from Aranjuez?
MATEROSAYes, by hiding in the garret. Then they all threw themselvesupon Napoléon’s protection. In his presence the Queen sworethat the King was not Fernando’s father! Altogether they forma queer little menagerie. What will happen to them nobody knows.
PRINCE OF WALESAnd do you wish us to send an army at once?
MATEROSAWhat we most want, sir, are arms and ammunition. But we leave theEnglish Ministry to co-operate in its own wise way, anyhow, so asto sustain us in resenting these insults from the Tyrant of theEarth.
DUCHESS OF RUTLAND [to the Prince of Wales]What sort of aid shall we send, sir?
PRINCE OF WALESWe are going to vote fifty millions, I hear. We’ll whack him,and preserve your noble country for ’ee, Senor Viscount. Thedebate thereon is to come off to-morrow. It will be the finestthing the Commons have had since Pitt’s time. Sheridan, who isopen to it, says he and Canning are to be absolutely unanimous;and, by God, like the parties in his “Critic,” when Governmentand Opposition do agree, their unanimity is wonderful! ViscountMaterosa, you and your friends must be in the Gallery. O, dammy,you must!
MATEROSASir, we are already pledged to be there.
PRINCE OF WALESAnd hark ye, Senor Viscount. You will then learn what a mightyfine thing a debate in the English Parliament is! No Continentalhumbug there. Not but that the Court has a trouble to keep ’emin their places sometimes; and I would it had been one in theLords instead. However, Sheridan says he has been learning hisspeech these two days, and has hunted his father’s dictionarythrough for some stunning long words.—Now, Maria [to Mrs.Fitzherbert], I am going home.
LADY SALISBURYAt last, then, England will take her place in the forefront ofthis mortal struggle, and in pure disinterestedness fight withall her strength for the European deliverance. God defend theright![The Prince of Wales leaves, and the other guests begin todepart.]
SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music]Leave this glib throng to its conjecturing,And let four burdened weeks uncover what they bring!
SEMICHORUS IIThe said Debate, to wit; its close in deed;Till England stands enlisted for the Patriots’ needs.
SEMICHORUS IAnd transports in the docks gulp down their freightOf buckled fighting-flesh, and gale-bound, watch and wait.
SEMICHORUS IITill gracious zephyrs shoulder on their sailsTo where the brine of Biscay moans its tragic tales.
CHORUSBear 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, andthe point of view rapidly recedes south, London and its streetsand lights diminishing till they are lost in the distance, andits noises being succeeded by the babble of the Channel andBiscay waves.]
MADRID AND ITS ENVIRONS[The view is from the housetops of the city on a dusty eveningin this July, following a day of suffocating heat. The sunburntroofs, warm ochreous walls, and blue shadows of the capital,wear their usual aspect except for a few feeble attempts atdecoration.]
DUMB SHOWGazers gather in the central streets, and particularly in thePuerta del Sol. They show curiosity, but no enthusiasm. Patrolsof French soldiery move up and down in front of the people, andseem to awe them into quietude.There is a discharge of artillery in the outskirts, and the churchbells begin ringing; but the peals dwindle away to a melancholyjangle, and then to silence. Simultaneously, on the northernhorizon of the arid, unenclosed, and treeless plain swept by theeye around the city, a cloud of dust arises, and a Royal processionis seen nearing. It means the new king, JOSEPH BONAPARTE.He comes on, escorted by a clanking guard of four thousand Italiantroops, and the brilliant royal carriage is followed by a hundredcoaches bearing his suite. As the procession enters the city manyhouses reveal themselves to be closed, many citizens leave theroute and walk elsewhere, while may of those who remain turn theirbacks 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 ofthe nobility, the French generals who are in occupation there, andsome clergy. Heralds emerge from the Palace, and hasten to diverspoints in the city, where trumpets are blown and the Proclamationof JOSEPH as KING OF SPAIN is read in a loud voice. It is receivedin silence.The sunsets, and the curtain falls.
THE OPEN SEA BETWEEN THE ENGLISH COASTS AND THE SPANISH PENINSULA[From high aloft, in the same July weather, and facing east, thevision swoops over the ocean and its coast-lines, from CorkHarbour on the extreme left, to Mondego Bay, Portugal, on theextreme right. Land’s End and the Scilly Isles, Ushant and CapeFinisterre, are projecting features along the middle distanceof the picture, and the English Channel recedes endwise as atapering avenue near the centre.]
DUMB SHOWFour groups of moth-like transport ships are discovered silentlyskimming this wide liquid plain. The first group, to the right,is just vanishing behind Cape Mondego to enter Mondego Bay; thesecond, in the midst, has come out from Plymouth Sound, and ispreparing to stand down Channel; the third is clearing St. Helen’spoint for the same course; and the fourth, much further up Channel,is obviously to follow on considerably in the rear of the twopreceding. A south-east wind is blowing strong, and, according tothe part of their course reached, they either sail direct with thewind on their larboard quarter, or labour forward by tacking inzigzags.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIESWhat are these fleets that cross the seaFrom British ports and baysTo coasts that glister southwardlyBehind the dog-day haze?
RUMOURS [chanting]SEMICHORUS I
They are the shipped battalions sentTo bar the bold BelligerentWho stalks the Dancers’ Land.Within these hulls, like sheep a-pen,Are packed in thousands fighting-menAnd colonels in command.
SEMICHORUS IIThe fleet that leans each aery finFar 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 soulsIn linesmen that the list enrolls,Borne onward by those sheeted polesAs war’s red retinue!
SEMICHORUS IThe fleet that clears St. Helen’s shoreHolds Burrard, Hope, ill-omened Moore,Clinton and Paget; whileThe transports that pertain to thoseCount six-score sail, whose planks encloseTen thousand rank and file.
SEMICHORUS IIThe third-sent ships, from Plymouth Sound,With Acland, Anstruther, impoundSouls to six thousand strong.While those, the fourth fleet, that we seeFar back, are lined with cavalry,And guns of girth, wheeled heavilyTo roll the routes along.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSEnough, 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 oftransports, convoyed by battleships, float on before the windalmost imperceptibly, like preened duck-feathers across a pond.The southernmost expedition, under SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY, sooncomes to anchor within the Bay of Mondego aforesaid, and thesoldiery are indefinitely discernible landing upon the beachfrom boats. Simultaneously the division commanded by MOORE, asyet in the Chops of the channel, is seen to be beaten back bycontrary winds. It gallantly puts to sea again, and being joinedby the division under ANSTRUTHER that has set out from Plymouth,labours round Ushant, and stands to the south in the track ofWELLESLEY. The rearward transports do the same.A moving stratum of summer cloud beneath the point of view coversup the spectacle like an awning.
ST. CLOUD. THE BOUDOIR OF JOSÉPHINE[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 stilluncurtained, can be seen the EMPRESS with NAPOLÉON and someladies and officers of the Court playing Catch-me-if-you-can bytorchlight on the lawn. The moving torches throw bizarre lightsand shadows into the apartment, where only a remote candle or twoare burning.Enter JOSÉPHINE and NAPOLÉON together, somewhat out of breath.With careless suppleness she slides down on a couch and fansherself. Now that the candle-rays reach her they show her mellowcomplexion, her velvety eyes with long lashes, mouth with pointedcorners and excessive mobility beneath itsduvet, and curls ofdark hair pressed down upon the temples by a gold band.The EMPEROR drops into a seat near her, and they remain in silencetill he jumps up, knocks over some nicknacks with his elbow, andbegins walking about the boudoir.]
NAPOLÉON [with sudden gloom]These mindless games are very well, my friend;But ours to-night marks, not improbably,The last we play together.
JOSÉPHINE [starting]Can you say it!Why raise that ghastly nightmare on me now,When, for a moment, my poor brain had dreamsDenied it all the earlier anxious day?
NAPOLÉONThings that verge nigh, my simple Joséphine,Are not shoved off by wilful winking at.Better quiz evils with too strained an eyeThan have them leap from disregarded lairs.
JOSÉPHINEMaybe ’tis true, and you shall have it so!—Yet there’s no joy save sorrow waived awhile.
NAPOLÉONHa, ha! That’s like you. Well, each day by dayI get sour news. Each hour since we returnedFrom this queer Spanish business at Bayonne,I have had nothing else; and hence by brooding.
JOSÉPHINEBut all went well throughout our touring-time?
NAPOLÉONNot so—behind the scenes. Our arms a BaylenHave been smirched badly. Twenty thousand shamedAll through Dupont’s ill-luck! The selfsame dayMy brother Joseph’s progress to MadridWas glorious as a sodden rocket’s fizz!Since when his letters creak with querulousness.“Napoléon el chico” ’tis they call him—“Napoléon 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 downTo Mondego, under one Wellesley,A man from India, and his march is southTo Lisbon, by Vimiero. On he’ll goAnd do the devil’s mischief ere he is metBy unaware Junot, and chevyed backTo English fogs and fumes!
JOSÉPHINEMy dearest one,You have mused on worse reports with better graceFull many and many a time. Ah—there is more!...I know; I know!
NAPOLÉON [kicking away a stool]There is, of course; that wormTime ever keeps in hand for gnawing me!—The question of my dynasty—which bitesCloser and closer as the years wheel on.
JOSÉPHINEOf course it’s that! For nothing else could hangMy lord on tenterhooks through nights and days;—Or rather, not the question, but the tonguesThat keep the question stirring. Nought recked youOf throne-succession or dynastic linesWhen gloriously engaged in Italy!I was your fairy then: they labelled meYour Lady of Victories; and much I joyed,Till dangerous ones drew near and daily sowedThese 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 dreadsThat my late happiness, and my late hope,Will oversoon be knelled!
NAPOLÉON [genially nearing her]But years have passed since first we talked of it,And now, with loss of dear Hortense’s sonWho won me as my own, it looms forth more.And selfish ’tis in my good JoséphineTo blind her vision to the weal of France,And this great Empire’s solidarity.The grandeur of your sacrifice would gildYour life’s whole shape.
JOSÉPHINEWere I as coarse a wifeAs I am limned in English caricature—[Those cruel effigies they draw of me!]—You could not speak more aridly.
NAPOLÉONNay, nay!You know, my comrade, how I love you stillWere there a long-notorious dislikeBetwixt us, reason might be in your dreadsBut all earth knows our conjugality.There’s not a bourgeois couple in the landWho, should dire duty rule their severance,Could part with scanter scandal than could we.
JOSÉPHINE [pouting]Nevertheless there’s one.
NAPOLÉONA scandal? What?
JOSÉPHINEMadame Walewska! How could you pretendWhen, after Jena, I’d have come to you,“The weather was so wild, the roads so rough,That no one of my sex and delicate nerveCould hope to face the dangers and fatigues.”Yes—so you wrote me, dear. They hurt not her!
NAPOLÉON [blandly]She was a week’s adventure—not worth words!I say ’tis France.—I have held out for yearsAgainst the constant pressure brought on meTo null this sterile marriage.
JOSÉPHINE [bursting into sobs]Me you blame!But how know you that you are not the culprit?
NAPOLÉONI have reason so to know—if I must say.The Polish lady you have chosen to nameHas proved the fault not mine. [JOSÉPHINE sobs more violently.]Don’t cry, my cherished;It is not really amiable of you,Or prudent, my good little Joséphine,With so much in the balance.
JOSÉPHINEHow—know you—What may not happen! Wait a—little longer!
NAPOLÉON [playfully pinching her arm]O come, now, my adored! Haven’t I already!Nature’s a dial whose shade no hand puts back,Trick as we may! My friend, you are forty-threeThis very year in the world— [JOSÉPHINE breaks out sobbing again.]And in vain it isTo think of waiting longer; pitifulTo dream of coaxing shy fecundityTo an unlikely freak by physickingWith superstitious drugs and quackeriesThat work you harm, not good. The fact being so,I have looked it squarely down—against my heart!Solicitations voiced repeatedlyAt length have shown the soundness of their shape,And left me no denial. You, at times,My dear one, have been used to handle it.My brother Joseph, years back, frankly gaveHis honest view that something should be done;And he, you well know, shows no ill tinctIn his regard of you.
JOSÉPHINEAnd what princess?
NAPOLÉONFor wiving with? No thought was given to that,She shapes as vaguely as the Veiled—
JOSÉPHINENo, no;It’s Alexander’s sister, I’m full sure!—But why this craze for home-made manikinsAnd lineage mere of flesh? You have said yourselfIt mattered not. Great Caesar, you declared,Sank sonless to his rest; was greater deemedEven for the isolation. FrederickSaw, too, no heir. It is the fate of such,Often, to be denied the common hopeAs fine for fulness in the rarer giftsThat Nature yields them. O my husband long,Will you not purge your soul to value bestThat high heredity from brain to brainWhich supersedes mere sequence of blood,That often vary more from sire to sonThan between furthest strangers!...Napoléon’s offspring in his like must lie;The second of his line be he who showsNapoléon’s soul in later bodiment,The household father happening as he may!
NAPOLÉON [smilingly wiping her eyes]Little guessed I my dear would prove her rammedWith such a charge of apt philosophyWhen tutoring me gay arts in earlier times!She who at home coquetted through the yearsIn which I vainly penned her wishful wordsTo come and comfort me in Italy,Might, faith, have urged it then effectually!But never would you stir from Paris joys, [With some bitterness.]And so, when arguments like this could move me,I heard them not; and get them only nowWhen their weight dully falls. But I have said’Tis not for me, but France—Good-bye an hour. [Kissing her.]I must dictate some letters. This new moveOf England on Madrid may mean some trouble.Come, dwell not gloomily on this cold needOf waiving private joy for policy.We are but thistle-globes on Heaven’s high gales,And whither blown, or when, or how, or why,Can choose us not at all!...I’ll come to you anon, dear: staunch RoustanWill light me in.[Exit NAPOLÉON. The scene shuts in shadow.]
VIMIERO[A village among the hills of Portugal, about fifty miles northof Lisbon. Around it are disclosed, as ten on Sunday morningstrikes, a blue army of fourteen thousand men in isolated columns,and red army of eighteen thousand in line formation, drawn up inorder of battle. The blue army is a French one under JUNOT; theother an English one under SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY—portion of thatrecently landed.The August sun glares on the shaven faces, white gaiters, andwhite cross-belts of the English, who are to fight for theirlives while sweating under a quarter-hundredweight in knapsackand pouches, and with firelocks heavy as putlogs. They occupya group of heights, but their position is one of great danger,the land abruptly terminating two miles behind their backs inlofty cliffs overhanging the Atlantic. The French occupy thevalleys in the English front, and this distinction between thetwo forces strikes the eye—the red army is accompanied by scarceany cavalry, while the blue is strong in that area.]
DUMB SHOWThe battle is begun with alternate moves that match each other likethose of a chess opening. JUNOT makes an oblique attack by movinga division to his right; WELLESLEY moves several brigades to hisleft to balance it.A column of six thousand French then climbs the hill against theEnglish centre, and drives in those who are planted there. TheEnglish artillery checks its adversaries, and the infantry recoverand charge the baffled French down the slopes. Meanwhile thelatter’s cavalry and artillery are attacking the village itself,and, rushing on a few squadrons of English dragoons stationed there,cut them to pieces. A dust is raised by this ado, and moans of menand shrieks of horses are heard. Close by the carnage the littleMaceira stream continues to trickle unconcernedly to the sea.On the English left five thousand French infantry, having ascendedto the ridge and maintained a stinging musket-fire as sharplyreturned, are driven down by the bayonets of six English regiments.Thereafter a brigade of the French, the northernmost, finding thatthe others have pursued to the bottom and are resting after theeffort, surprise them and bayonet them back to their original summit.The see-saw is continued by the recovery of the English, who againdrive their assailants down.The French army pauses stultified, till, the columns uniting, theyfall back toward the opposite hills. The English, seeing that theirchance has come, are about to pursue and settle the fortunes of theday. But a messenger dispatched from a distant group is markedriding up to the large-nosed man with a telescope and an Indiansword who, his staff around him, has been directing the Englishmovements. He seems astonished at the message, appears to resentit, and pauses with a gloomy look. But he sends countermands to hisgenerals, and the pursuit ends abortively.The French retreat without further molestation by a circuitous marchinto the great road to Torres Vedras by which they came, leavingnearly two thousand dead and wounded on the slopes they have quitted.Dumb Show ends and the curtain draws.