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The Dynasts: An Epic Drama Of The War With Napoleon, a play by Thomas Hardy |
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Part 3 - Act 7 - Scene 5. The Same. The Women's Camp Near Mont Saint-Jean |
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_ PART THIRD. ACT SEVENTH. SCENE V. [On the sheltered side of a clump of trees at the back of the English position camp-fires are smouldering. Soldiers' wives, mistresses, and children from a few months to five or six years of age, sit on the ground round the fires or on armfuls of straw from the adjoining farm. Wounded soldiers lie near the women. The wind occasionally brings the smoke and smell of battle into the encampment, the noise being continuous. Two waggons stand near; also a surgeon's horse in charge of a batman, laden with bone-saws, knives, probes, tweezers, and other surgical instruments. Behind lies a woman who has just given birth to a child, which a second woman is holding. Many of the other women are shredding lint, the elder children assisting. Some are dressing the slighter wounds of the soldiers who have come in here instead of going further. Along the road near is a continual procession of bearers of wounded men to the rear. The occupants of the camp take hardly any notice of the thundering of the cannon. A camp-follower is playing a fiddle near. Another woman enters.] WOMAN There's no sign of my husband any longer. His battalion is half-a- mile from where it was. He looked back as they wheeled off towards the fighting-line, as much as to say, "Nancy, if I don't see 'ee again, this is good-bye, my dear." Yes, poor man! . . . Not but what 'a had a temper at times! SECOND WOMAN I'm out of all that. My husband--as I used to call him for form's sake--is quiet enough. He was wownded at Quarter-Brass the day before yesterday, and died the same night. But I didn't know it till I got here, and then says I, "Widder or no widder, I mean to see this out." [A sergeant staggers in with blood dropping from his face.]
Damned if I think you will see it out, mis'ess, for if I don't mistake there'll be a retreat of the whole army on Brussels soon. We can't stand much longer!--For the love of God, have ye got a cup of water, if nothing stronger? (They hand a cup.)
The Lord send that I may never see again what I've been seeing while looking for my poor galliant Joe! The surgeon asked me to lend a hand; and 'twas worse than opening innerds at a pig-killing! (She faints.)
Never mind her, my dear; come and help me with this one. (She goes with the girl to a soldier in red with buff facings who lies some distance off.) Ah--'tis no good. He's gone.
No, mother. His eyes are wide open, a-staring to get a sight of the battle!
That's nothing. Lots of dead ones stare in that silly way. It depends upon where they were hit. I was all through the Peninsula; that's how I know. (She covers the horny gaze of the man. Shouts and louder discharges are heard.)--Heaven's high tower, what's that?
Waiting with the major's spare hoss--up to my knees in mud from the rain that had come down like baccy-pipe stems all the night and morning--I have just seen a charge never beholded since the days of the Amalekites! The squares still stand, but Ney's cavalry have made another attack. Their swords are streaming with blood, and their horses' hoofs squash out our poor fellow's bowels as they lie. A ball has sunk in Sir Thomas Picton's forehead and killed him like Goliath the Philistine. I don't see what's to stop the French. Well, it's the Lord's doing and marvellous in our eyes. Hullo, who's he? (They look towards the road.) A fine hale old gentleman, isn't he? What business has a man of that sort here? [Enter, on the highway near, the DUKE OF RICHMOND in plain clothes, on horseback, accompanied by two youths, his sons. They draw rein on an eminence, and gaze towards the battlefields.] RICHMOND (to son) Everything looks as bad as possible just now. I wonder where your brother is? However, we can't go any nearer. . . . Yes, the bat- horses are already being moved off, and there are more and more fugitives. A ghastly finish to your mother's ball, by Gad if it isn't! [They turn their horses towards Brussels. Enter, meeting them, MR. LEGH, a Wessex gentleman, also come out to view the battle.]
Can you tell me, sir, how the battle is going?
Badly, badly, I fear, sir. There will be a retreat soon, seemingly.
Indeed! Yes, a crowd of fugitives are coming over the hill even now. What will these poor women do?
God knows! They will be ridden over, I suppose. Though it is extraordinary how they do contrive to escape destruction while hanging so close to the rear of an action! They are moving, however. Well, we will move too. [Exeunt DUKE OF RICHMOND, sons, and MR. LEGH. The point of view shifts.]
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