Part 3 - Act 7 - Scene 7. The Same. The English Position

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_ PART THIRD. ACT SEVENTH. SCENE VII.

[The din of battle continues. WELLINGTON, UXBRIDGE, HILL, DE LANCEY, GORDON, and others discovered near the middle of the line.]

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

It is a moment when the steadiest pulse
Thuds pit-a-pat. The crisis shapes and nears
For Wellington as for his counter-chief.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

The hour is shaking him, unshakeable
As he may seem!

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Know'st not at this stale time
That shaken and unshaken are alike
But demonstrations from the Back of Things?
Must I again reveal It as It hauls
The halyards of the world?

[A transparency as in earlier scenes again pervades the spectacle, and the ubiquitous urging of the Immanent Will becomes visualized. The web connecting all the apparently separate shapes includes WELLINGTON in its tissue with the rest, and shows him, like them, as acting while discovering his intention to act. By the lurid light the faces of every row, square, group, and column of men, French and English, wear the expression of that of people in a dream.]

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES (tremulously)

Yea, sire; I see.
Disquiet me, pray, no more!

[The strange light passes, and the embattled hosts on the field seem to move independently as usual.]

WELLINGTON (to Uxbridge)

Manoeuvring does not seem to animate
Napoleon's methods now. Forward he comes,
And pounds away on us in the ancient style,
Till he is beaten back in the ancient style;
And so the see-saw sways!

[The din increases. WELLINGTON'S aide-de-camp, Sir A. GORDON, a little in his rear, falls mortally wounded. The DUKE turns quickly.]

But where is Gordon?
Ah--hit is he! That's bad, that's bad, by God.

[GORDON is removed. An aide enters.]

AIDE

Your Grace, the Colonel Ompteda has fallen,
And La Haye Sainte is now a bath of blood.
Nothing more can be done there, save with help.
The Rifles suffer sharply!

[An aide is seen coming from KEMPT.]

WELLINGTON

What says he?

DE LANCEY

He says that Kempt, being riddled through and thinned,
Sends him for reinforcements.

WELLINGTON (with heat)

Reinforcements?
And where am I to get him reinforcements
In Heaven's name! I've no reinforcements here,
As he should know.

AIDE (hesitating)

What's to be done, your Grace?

WELLINGTON

Done? Those he has left him, be they many or few,
Fight till they fall, like others in the field!

[Exit aide. The Quartermaster-General DE LANCEY, riding by WELLINGTON, is struck by a lobbing shot that hurls him over the head of his horse. WELLINGTON and others go to him.]

DE LANCEY (faintly)

I may as well be left to die in peace!

WELLINGTON

He may recover. Take him to the rear,
And call the best attention up to him.

[DE LANCEY is carried off. The next moment a shell bursts close to WELLINGTON.]

HILL (approaching)

I strongly feel you stand too much exposed!

WELLINGTON

I know, I know. It matters not one damn!
I may as well be shot as not perceive
What ills are raging here.

HILL

Conceding such,
And as you may be ended momently,
A truth there is no blinking, what commands
Have you to leave me, should fate shape it so?

WELLINGTON

These simply: to hold out unto the last,
As long as one man stands on one lame leg
With one ball in his pouch!--then end as I.

[He rides on slowly with the others. NEY'S charges, though fruitless so far, are still fierce. His troops are now reduced to one-half. Regiments of the BACHELU division, and the JAMIN brigade, are at last moved up to his assistance. They are partly swept down by the Allied batteries, and partly notched away by the infantry, the smoke being now so thick that the position of the battalions is revealed only by the flashing of the priming-pans and muzzles, and by the furious oaths heard behind the cloud. WELLINGTON comes back. Enter another aide-de-camp.]

AIDE

We bow to the necessity of saying
That our brigade is lessened to one-third,
Your Grace. And those who are left alive of it
Are so unmuscled by fatigue and thirst
That some relief, however temporary,
Becomes sore need.

WELLINGTON

Inform your general
That his proposal asks the impossible!
That he, I, every Englishman afield,
Must fall upon the spot we occupy,
Our wounds in front.

AIDE

It is enough, your Grace.
I answer for't that he, those under him,
And I withal, will bear us as you say.

[Exit aide. The din of battle goes on. WELLINGTON is grave but calm. Like those around him, he is splashed to the top of his hat with partly dried mire, mingled with red spots; his face is grimed in the same way, little courses showing themselves where the sweat has trickled down from his brow and temples.]

CLINTON (to Hill)

A rest would do our chieftain no less good,
In faith, than that unfortunate brigade!
He is tried damnably; and much more strained
Than I have ever seen him.

HILL

Endless risks
He's running likewise. What the hell would happen
If he were shot, is more than I can say!

WELLINGTON (calling to some near)

At Talavera, Salamanca, boys,
And at Vitoria, we saw smoke together;
And though the day seems wearing doubtfully,
Beaten we must not be! What would they say
Of us at home, if so?

A CRY (from the French)

Their centre breaks!
Vive l'Empereur!

[It comes from the FOY and BACHELU divisions, which are rushing forward. HALKETT'S and DUPLAT'S brigades intercept. DUPLAT falls, shot dead; but the venturesome French regiments, pierced with converging fires, and cleft with shells, have to retreat.]

HILL (joining Wellington)

The French artillery-fire
To the right still renders regiments restive there
That have to stand. The long exposure galls them.

WELLINGTON

They must be stayed as our poor means afford.
I have to bend attention steadfastly
Upon the centre here. The game just now
Goes all against us; and if staunchness fail
But for one moment with these thinning foot,
Defeat succeeds!

[The battle continues to sway hither and thither with concussions, wounds, smoke, the fumes of gunpowder, and the steam from the hot viscera of grape-torn horses and men. One side of a Hanoverian square is blown away; the three remaining sides form themselves into a triangle. So many of his aides are cut down that it is difficult for WELLINGTON to get reports of what is happening afar. It begins to be discovered at the front that a regiment of hussars, and others without ammunition, have deserted, and that some officers in the rear, honestly concluding the battle to be lost, are riding quietly off to Brussels. Those who are left unwounded of WELLINGTON'S staff show gloomy misgivings at such signs, despite their own firmness.]

SPIRIT SINISTER

One needs must be a ghost
To move here in the midst 'twixt host and host!
Their balls scream brisk and breezy tunes through me
As I were an organ-stop. It's merry so;
What damage mortal flesh must undergo!

[A Prussian officer enters to MUFFLING, who has again rejoined the DUKE'S suite. MUFFLING hastens forward to WELLINGTON.]

MUFFLING

Blucher has just begun to operate;
But owing to Gneisenau's stolid stagnancy
The body of our army looms not yet!
As Zieten's corps still plod behind Smohain
Their coming must be late. Blucher's attack
Strikes the remote right rear of the enemy,
Somewhere by Plancenoit.

WELLINGTON

A timely blow;
But would that Zieten sped! Well, better late
Than never. We'll still stand.

[The point of observation shifts.] _

Read next: Part 3: Act 7: Scene 8. The Same. Later

Read previous: Part 3: Act 7: Scene 6. The Same. The French Position

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