The Dynasts: An Epic-Drama of the War with Napoleon Part 180

AIDE

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

NAPOLEON

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

[NAPOLEON turns his gla.s.s to an upland four or five miles off on the right, known as St. Lambert's Chapel Hill. Gazing more and more intently, he takes rapid pinches of snuff in excitement.

NEY'S columns meanwhile standing for the word to advance, eighty guns being ranged in front of La Belle Alliance in support of them.]

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

SOULT [also examining closely]

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

NAPOLEON

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

ANOTHER MARSHAL

It seems a wood.

Trees don bold outlines in their new-leafed pride.

ANOTHER MARSHAL

It is the creeping shadow from a cloud.

ANOTHER MARSHAL

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

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

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

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

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

NAPOLEON

All prospers marvellously! Gomont is hemmed; La Haye Sainte too; their centre jeopardized; Travers and d'Erlon dominate the crest, And further strength of foot is following close.

Their troops are raw; the flower of England's force That fought in Spain, America now holds.--

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

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

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

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

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

An aide enters to NAPOLEON from GENERAL DOMON.]

AIDE

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

NAPOLEON

Then where is General Grouchy?

[Enter COLONEL MARBOT with a prisoner.]

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

MARBOT

Sire, my hussars have captured him near Lasnes-- A subaltern of the Silesian Horse.

A note from Bulow to Lord Wellington, Announcing that a Prussian corps is close, Was found on him. He speaks our language, sire.

NAPOLEON [to prisoner]

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

PRISONER

General Count Bulow's van, your Majesty.

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