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 mass 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
prostitutes, which struggle through droves of oxen, sheep, goats,
horses, asses, 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.
Enter WELLINGTON and others, grimy and perspiring.]
FIRST OFFICER
The men are plundering in all directions!
WELLINGTON
Let ’em. They’ve striven long and gallantly.
—What documents do I see lying there?
SECOND OFFICER [examining]
The archives of King Joseph’s court, my lord;
His correspondence, too, with Bonaparte.
WELLINGTON
We must examine it. It may have use.
[Another company of soldiers enters, dragging some equipages that
have lost their horses by the traces being cut. The carriages
contain ladies, who shriek and weep at finding themselves captives.]
What women bring they there?
THIRD OFFICER
Mixed sorts, my lord.
The wives of many young French officers,
The mistresses of more—in male attire.
Yon elegant hussar is one, to wit;
She so disguised is of a Spanish house,—
One of the general’s loves.
WELLINGTON
Well, pack them off
To-morrow to Pamplona, as you can;
We’ve neither list nor leisure for their charms.
By God, I never saw so many wh—-s
In all my life before!
[Exeunt WELLINGTON, officers, and infantry. A soldier enters with
his arm round a lady in rich costume.]
SOLDIER
We must be married, my dear.
LADY [not knowing his language]
Anything, sir, if you’ll spare my life!
SOLDIER
There’s neither parson nor clerk here. But that don’t matter—hey?
LADY
Anything, sir, if you’ll spare my life!
SOLDIER
And if we’ve got to unmarry at cockcrow, why, so be it—hey?
LADY
Anything, sir, if you’ll spare my life!
SOLDIER
A sensible ’ooman, whatever it is she says; that I can see by her
pretty face. Come along then, my dear. There’ll be no bones broke,
and we’ll take our lot with Christian resignation.
[Exeunt soldier and lady. The crowd thins away as darkness closes
in, and the growling of artillery ceases, though the wheels of the
flying enemy are still heard in the distance. The fires kindled
by the soldiers as they make their bivouacs blaze up in the gloom,
and throw their glares a long way, revealing on the slopes of the
hills many suffering ones who have not yet been carried in.
The last victorious regiment comes up from the rear, fifing and
drumming ere it reaches its resting-place the last bars of “The
Downfall of Paris”:—
Transcriber’s Note: There follows in musical notation four bars
from that song in 2/4 time, key of C—
\\E EF G F\E EF G F\E EC D DB\C \\