Do they miss us much, I wonder, Now that war has swept us sunder, And we roam from where the faces smile to where the faces frown?
And no more behold the features Of the fair fantastic creatures, And no more CLINK! CLINK! past the parlours of the town?
IV
Shall we once again there meet them?
Falter fond attempts to greet them?
Will the gay sling-jacket[20] glow again beside the muslin gown?-- Will they archly quiz and con us With a sideways glance upon us, While our spurs CLINK! CLINK! up the Esplanade and down?
[Applause from the other hussars. More songs are sung, the night gets darker, the fires go out, and the camp sleeps.]
SCENE II
THE SAME, FROM THE PUEBLA HEIGHTS
[It is now day; but a summer fog pervades the prospect. Behind the fog is heard the roll of ba.s.s and tenor drums and the clash of cymbals, with notes of the popular march "The Downfall of Paris."
By degrees the fog lifts, and the Plain is disclosed. From this elevation, gazing north, the expanse looks like the palm of a monstrous right hand, a little hollowed, some half-dozen miles across, wherein the ball of the thumb is roughly represented by heights to the east, on which the French centre has gathered; the "Mount of Mars" and the "Moon" [the opposite side of the palm] by the position of the English on the left or west of the plain; and the "Line of Life" by the Zadorra, an unfordable river running from the town down the plain, and dropping out of it through a pa.s.s in the Puebla Heights to the south, just beneath our point of observation--that is to say, toward the wrist of the supposed hand. The left of the English army under GRAHAM would occupy the "mounts" at the base of the fingers; while the bent finger-tips might represent the Cantabrian Hills beyond the plain to the north or back of the scene.
From the aforesaid stony crests of Puebla the white town and church towers of Vitoria can be descried on a slope to the right- rear of the field of battle. A warm rain succeeds the fog for a short while, bringing up the fragrant scents from fields, vineyards, and gardens, now in the full leaf.a.ge of June.]
DUMB SHOW
All the English forces converge forward--that is, eastwardly--the centre over the ridges, the right through the Pa.s.s to the south, the left down the Bilbao road on the north-west, the bands of the divers regiments striking up the same quick march, "The Downfall of Paris."
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
You see the scene. And yet you see it not.
What do you notice now?
There immediately is shown visually the electric state of mind that animates WELLINGTON, GRAHAM, HILL, KEMPT, PICTON, COLVILLE, and other responsible ones on the British side; and on the French KING JOSEPH stationary on the hill overlooking his own centre, and surrounded by a numerous staff that includes his adviser MARSHAL JOURDAN, with, far away in the field, GAZAN, D"ERLON, REILLE, and other marshals.
This vision, resembling as a whole the interior of a beating brain lit by phosph.o.r.escence, in an instant fades back to normal.
Anon we see the English hussars with their flying pelisses galloping across the Zadorra on one of the Tres-Puentes in the midst of the field, as had been planned, the English lines in the foreground under HILL pushing the enemy up the slopes; and far in the distance, to the left of Vitoria, whiffs of grey smoke followed by low rumbles show that the left of the English army under GRAHAM is pushing on there.
Bridge after bridge of the half-dozen over the Zadorra is crossed by the British; and WELLINGTON, in the centre with PICTON, seeing the hill and village of Arinez in front of him [eastward] to be weakly held, carries the regiments of the seventh and third divisions in a quick run towards it. Supported by the hussars, they ultimately fight their way to the top, in a chaos of smoke, flame, and booming echoes, loud-voiced PICTON, in an old blue coat and round hat, swearing as he goes.
Meanwhile the French who are opposed to the English right, in the foreground, have been turned by HILL; the heights are all abandoned, and the columns fall back in a confused throng by the road to Vitoria, hard pressed by the British, who capture abandoned guns amid indescribable tumult, till the French make a stand in front of the town.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
What"s toward in the distance?--say!
SEMICHORUS I OF RUMOURS [aerial music]
Fitfully flash strange sights there; yea, Unwonted spectacles of sweat and scare Behind the French, that make a stand With eighty cannon, match in hand.-- Upon the highway from the town to rear An eddy of distraction reigns, Where lumbering treasure, baggage-trains, Padding pedestrians, haze the atmosphere.
SEMICHORUS II
Men, women, and their children fly, And when the English over-high Direct their death-bolts, on this billowy throng Alight the too far-ranging b.a.l.l.s, Wringing out piteous shrieks and calls From the pale mob, in monotones loud and long.
SEMICHORUS I
To leftward of the distant din Reille meantime has been driven in By Graham"s measure overmastering might.-- Henceforward, ma.s.ses of the foe Withdraw, and, firing as they go, Pa.s.s rightwise from the c.o.c.kpit out of sight.
CHORUS
The sunset slants an ochreous shine Upon the English knapsacked line, Whose glistering bayonets incline As bends the hot pursuit across the plain; And tardily behind them goes Too many a mournful load of those Found wound-weak; while with stealthy crawl, As silence wraps the rear of all, Cloaked creatures of the starlight strip the slain.
SCENE III
THE SAME. THE ROAD FROM THE TOWN
[With the going down of the sun the English army finds itself in complete possession of the ma.s.s of waggons and carriages distantly beheld from the rear--laden with pictures, treasure, flour, vegetables, furniture, finery, parrots, monkeys, and women--most of the male sojourners in the town having taken to their heels and disappeared across the fields.
The road is choked with these vehicles, the women they carry including wives, mistresses, actresses, dancers, nuns, and prost.i.tutes, which struggle through droves of oxen, sheep, goats, horses, a.s.ses, and mules-- a Noah"s-ark of living creatures in one vast procession.
There enters rapidly in front of this throng a carriage containing KING JOSEPH BONAPARTE and an attendant, followed by another vehicle with luggage.]
JOSEPH [inside carriage]
The bare unblinking truth hereon is this: The Englishry are a pursuing army, And we a flying brothel! See our men-- They leave their guns to save their mistresses!
[The carriage is fired upon from outside the scene. The KING leaps from the vehicle and mounts a horse.
Enter at full gallop from the left CAPTAIN WYNDHAM and a detachment of the Tenth Hussars in chase of the King"s carriage; and from the right a troop of French dragoons, who engage with the hussars and hinder pursuit. Exit KING JOSEPH on horseback; afterwards the hussars and dragoons go out fighting.
The British infantry enter irregularly, led by a sergeant of the Eighty-seventh, mockingly carrying MARSHAL JOURDAN"S baton. The crowd recedes. The soldiers ransack the King"s carriages, cut from their frames canvases by Murillo, Velasquez, and Zurbaran, and use them as package-wrappers, throwing the papers and archives into the road.
They next go to a waggon in the background, which contains a large chest. Some of the soldiers burst it with a crash. It is full of money, which rolls into the road. The soldiers begin scrambling, but are restored to order; and they march on.
Enter more companies of infantry, out of control of their officers, who are running behind. They see the dollars, and take up the scramble for them; next ransacking other waggons and abstracting therefrom uniforms, ladies raiment, jewels, plate, wines, and spirits.
Some array them in the finery, and one soldier puts on a diamond necklace; others load themselves with the money still lying about the road. It begins to rain, and a private who has lost his kit cuts a hole in the middle of a deframed old master, and, putting it over his head, wears it as a poncho.