The Dynasts: An Epic-Drama of the War with Napoleon Part 188

SCENE VIII

THE SAME. LATER

[NEY'S long attacks on the centre with cavalry having failed, those left of the squadrons and their infantry-supports fall back pell-mell in broken groups across the depression between the armies.

Meanwhile BULOW, having engaged LOBAU'S Sixth Corps, carries Plancenoit.

The artillery-fire between the French and the English continues.

An officer of the Third Foot-guards comes up to WELLINGTON and those of his suite that survive.]

OFFICER

Our Colonel Canning--coming I know not whence--

WELLINGTON

I lately sent him with important words To the remoter lines.

OFFICER

As he returned A grape-shot struck him in the breast; he fell, At once a dead man. General Halkett, too, Has had his cheek shot through, but still keeps going.

WELLINGTON

And how proceeds De Lancey?

OFFICER

I am told That he forbids the surgeons waste their time On him, who well can wait till worse are eased.

WELLINGTON

A n.o.ble fellow.

[NAPOLEON can now be seen, across the valley, pus.h.i.+ng forward a new scheme of some sort, urged to it obviously by the visible nearing of further Prussian corps. The EMPEROR is as critically situated as WELLINGTON, and his army is now formed in a right angle ["en potence"], the main front to the English, the lesser to as many of the Prussians as have yet arrived. His gestures show him to be giving instructions of desperate import to a general whom he has called up.]

SPIRIT IRONIC

He bids La Bedoyere to speed away Along the whole sweep of the surging line, And there announce to the breath-shotten bands Who toil for a chimaera trustfully, With seventy pounds of luggage on their loins, That the dim Prussian ma.s.ses seen afar Are Grouchy's three-and-thirty thousand, come To clinch a victory.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

But Ney demurs!

SPIRIT IRONIC

Ney holds indignantly that such a feint Is not war-worthy. Says Napoleon then, Snuffing anew, with sour sardonic scowl, That he is choiceless.

SPIRIT SINISTER

Excellent Emperor!

He tops all human greatness; in that he To lesser grounds of greatness adds the prime, Of being without a conscience.

[LA BEDOYERE and orderlies start on their mission. The false intelligence is seen to spread, by the excited motion of the columns, and the soldiers can be heard shouting as their spirits revive.

WELLINGTON is beginning to discern the features of the coming onset, when COLONEL FRASER rides up.]

FRASER

We have just learnt from a deserting captain, One of the carabineers who charged of late, That an a.s.sault which dwarfs all instances-- The whole Imperial Guard in welded weight-- Is shortly to be made.

WELLINGTON

For your smart speed My thanks. My observation is confirmed.

We'll hasten now along the battle-line [to Staff], As swiftest means for giving orders out Whereby to combat this.

[The speaker, accompanied by HILL, UXBRIDGE, and others--all now looking as worn and besmirched as the men in the ranks--proceed along the lines, and dispose the brigades to meet the threatened shock. The infantry are brought out of the shelter they have recently sought, the cavalry stationed in the rear, and the batteries of artillery hitherto kept in reserve are moved to the front.

The last Act of the battle begins.

There is a preliminary attack by DONZELOT'S columns, combined with swarms of sharpshooters, to the disadvantage of the English and their Allies. WELLINGTON has scanned it closely. FITZROY SOMERSET, his military secretary, comes up.]

WELLINGTON

What casualty has thrown its shade among The regiments of Na.s.sau, to shake them so?

SOMERSET

The Prince of Orange has been badly struck-- A bullet through his shoulder--so they tell; And Kielmansegge has shown some signs of stress.

Kincaird's tried line wanes leaner and more lean-- Whittled to a weak skein of skirmishers; The Twenty-seventh lie dead.

WELLINGTON