SCENE V
LONDON. THE GUILDHALL
[A crowd of citizens has gathered outside to watch the carriages
as they drive up and deposit guests invited to the Lord Mayor’s
banquet, for which event the hall is brilliantly lit within. A
cheer rises when the equipage of any popular personage arrives
at the door.
FIRST CITIZEN
Well, well! Nelson is the man who ought to have been banqueted
to-night. But he is coming to Town in a coach different from these.!
SECOND CITIZEN
Will they bring his poor splintered body home?
FIRST CITIZEN
Yes. They say he’s to be tombed in marble, at St. Paul’s or
Westminster. We shall see him if he lays in state. It will
make a patriotic spectacle for a fine day.
BOY
How can you see a dead man, father, after so long?
FIRST CITIZEN
They’ll embalm him, my boy, as they did all the great Egyptian
admirals.
BOY
His lady will be handy for that, won’t she?
FIRST CITIZEN
Don’t ye ask awkward questions.
SECOND CITIZEN
Here’s another coming!
FIRST CITIZEN
That’s my Lord Chancellor Eldon. Wot he’ll say, and wot he’ll look!
Mr. Pitt will be here soon.
BOY
I don’t like Billy. He killed Uncle John’s parrot.
SECOND CITIZEN
How may ye make that out, youngster?
BOY
Mr. Pitt made the war, and the war made us want sailors; and Uncle
John went for a walk down Wapping High Street to talk to the pretty
ladies one evening; and there was a press all along the river that
night—a regular hot one—and Uncle John was carried on board a
man-of-war to fight under Nelson; and nobody minded Uncle John’s
parrot, and it talked itself to death. So Mr. Pitt killed Uncle
John’s parrot; see it, sir?
SECOND CITIZEN
You had better have a care of this boy, friend. His brain is too
precious for the common risks of Cheapside. Not but what he might
as well have said Boney killed the parrot when he was about it.
And as for Nelson—who’s now sailing shinier seas than ours, if
they’ve rubbed Her off his slate where he’s gone to,—the French
papers say that our loss in him is greater than our gain in ships;
so that logically the victory is theirs. Gad, sir, it’s almost
true!
[A hurrahing is heard from Cheapside, and the crowd in that
direction begins to hustle and show excitement.]
FIRST CITIZEN
He’s coming, he’s coming! Here, let me lift you up, my boy.— Why,
they have taken out the horses, as I am man alive!
SECOND CITIZEN
Pitt for ever!—Why, here’s a blade opening and shutting his mouth
like the rest, but never a sound does he raise!
THIRD CITIZEN
I’ve not too much breath to carry me through my day’s work, so I
can’t afford to waste it in such luxuries as crying Hurrah to
aristocrats. If ye was ten yards off y’d think I was shouting
as loud as any.
SECOND CITIZEN
It’s a very mean practice of ye to husband yourself at such a time,
and gape in dumbshow like a frog in Plaistow Marshes.
THIRD CITIZEN
No, sir; it’s economy; a very necessary instinct in these days of
ghastly taxations to pay half the armies in Europe! In short, in
the word of the Ancients, it is scarcely compass-mentas to do
otherwise! Somebody must save something, or the country will be
as bankrupt as Mr. Pitt himself is, by all account; though he
don’t look it just now.
[PITT’s coach passes, drawn by a troop of running men and boy.
The Prime Minister is seen within, a thin, erect, up-nosed
figure, with a flush of excitement on his usually pale face.
The vehicle reached the doorway to the Guildhall and halts with
a jolt. PITT gets out shakily, and amid cheers enters the
building.]
FOURTH CITIZEN
Quite a triumphal entry. Such is power;
Now worshipped, now accursed! The overthrow
Of all Pitt’s European policy
When his hired army and his chosen general
Surrendered them at Ulm a month ago,
Is now forgotten! Ay; this Trafalgar
Will botch up many a ragged old repute,
Make Nelson figure as domestic saint
No less than country’s saviour, Pitt exalt
As zenith-star of England’s firmament,
And uncurse all the bogglers of her weal
At this adventurous time.
THIRD CITIZEN
Talk of Pitt being ill. He looks hearty as a buck.
FIRST CITIZEN
It’s the news—no more. His spirits are up like a rocket for the
moment.
BOY
Is it because Trafalgar is near Portugal that he loves Port wine?
SECOND CITIZEN
Ah, as I said, friend; this boy must go home and be carefully put
to bed!
FIRST CITIZEN
Well, whatever William’s faults, it is a triumph for his virtues
to-night!
[PITT having disappeared, the Guildhall doors are closed, and
the crowd slowly disperses, till in the course of an hour the
street shows itself empty and dark, only a few oil lamps burning.
The SCENE OPENS, revealing the interior of the Guildhall, and
the brilliant assembly of City magnates, Lords, and Ministers
seated there, Mr. PITT occupying a chair of honour by the Lord
Mayor. His health has been proposed as that of the Saviour of
England, and drunk with acclamations.]
PITT [standing up after repeated calls]
My lords and gentlemen:—You have toasted me
As one who has saved England and her cause.
I thank you, gentlemen, unfeignedly.
But—no man has saved England, let me say:
England has saved herself, by her exertions:
She will, I trust, save Europe by her example!
[Loud applause, during which he sits down, rises, and sits down
again. The scene then shuts, and the night without has place.]
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Those words of this man Pitt—his last large words,
As I may prophesy—that ring to-night
In their first mintage to the feasters here,
Will spread with ageing, lodge, and crystallize,
And stand embedded in the English tongue
Till it grow thin, outworn, and cease to be.—
So is’t ordained by That Which all ordains;
For words were never winged with apter grace.
Or blent with happier choice of time and place,
To hold the imagination of this strenuous race.
SCENE VI[10]
AN INN AT RENNES
[Night. A sleeping-chamber. Two candles are burning near a bed
in an alcove, and writing-materials are on the table.
The French admiral, VILLENEUVE, partly undressed, is pacing up
and down the room.]
VILLENEUVE
These hauntings have at last nigh proved to me
That this thing must be done. Illustrious foe
And teacher, Nelson: blest and over blest
In thy outgoing at the noon of strife
When glory clasped thee round; while wayward Death
Refused my coaxings for the like-timed call!
Yet I did press where thickest missiles fell,
And both by precept and example showed
Where lay the line of duty, patriotism,
And honour, in that combat of despair.
[He see himself in the glass as he passes.]
Unfortunate Villeneuve!—whom fate has marked
To suffer for too firm a faithfulness.—
An Emperor’s chide is a command to die.—
By him accursed, forsaken by my friend,
Awhile stern England’s prisoner, then unloosed
Like some poor dolt unworth captivity,
Time serves me now for ceasing. Why not cease?...
When, as Shades whisper in the chasmal night,
“Better, far better, no percipience here.”—
O happy lack, that I should have no child
To come into my hideous heritage,
And groan beneath the burden of my name![11]
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
I’ll speak. His mood is ripe for such a parle.
[Sending a voice into VILLENEUVE’S ear.]
Thou dost divine the hour!
VILLENEUVE
But those stern Nays,
That heretofore were audible to me
At each unhappy time I strove to pass?
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Have been annulled. The Will grants exit freely;
Yea, It says “Now.” Therefore make now thy time.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
May his sad sunken soul merge into nought
Meekly and gently as a breeze at eve!
VILLENEUVE
From skies above me and the air around
Those callings which so long have circled me
At last do whisper “Now.” Now it shall be!
[He seals a letter, and addresses it to his wife; then takes a
dagger from his accoutrements that are hanging alongside, and,
lying down upon his back on the bed, stabs himself determinedly
in many places, leaving the weapon in the last wound.]
Ungrateful master; generous foes; Farewell!
[VILLENEUVE dies; and the scene darkens.]