THE ROAD TO WATERLOO
[The view is now from Quatre-Bras backward along the road by
which the English arrived. Diminishing in a straight line from
the foreground to the centre of the distance it passes over Mont
Saint-Jean and through Waterloo to Brussels.
It is now tinged by a moving mass of English and Allied infantry,
in retreat to a new position at Mont Saint-Jean. The sun shines
brilliantly upon the foreground as yet, but towards Waterloo and
the Forest of Soignes on the north horizon it is overcast with
black clouds which are steadily advancing up the sky.
To mask the retreat the English outposts retain their position
on the battlefield in the face of NEY’S troops, and keep up a
desultory firing: the cavalry for the same reason remain, being
drawn up in lines beside the intersecting Namur road.
Enter WELLINGTON, UXBRIDGE [who is in charge of the cavalry],
MÜFFLING, VIVIAN, and others. They look through their field-
glasses towards Frasnes, NEY’S position since his retreat
yesternight, and also towards NAPOLÉON’S at Ligny.]
WELLINGTON
The noonday sun, striking so strongly there,
Makes mirrors of their arms. That they advance
Their glowing radiance shows. Those gleams by Marbais
Suggest fixed bayonets.
UXBRIDGE
Vivian’s glass reveals
That they are cuirassiers. Ney’s troops, too, near
At last, methinks, along this other road.
WELLINGTON
One thing is sure: that here the whole French force
Schemes to unite and sharply follow us.
It formulates our fence. The cavalry
Must linger here no longer; but recede
To Mont Saint-Jean, as rearguard of the foot.
From the intelligence that Gordon brings
’Tis pretty clear old Blücher had to take
A damned good drubbing yesterday at Ligny,
And has been bent hard back! So that, for us,
Bound to the plighted plan, there is no choice
But do like.... No doubt they’ll say at home
That we’ve been well thrashed too. It can’t be helped,
They must!... [He looks round at the sky.] A heavy rainfall
threatens us,
To make it all the worse!
[The speaker and his staff ride off along the Brussels road in
the rear of the infantry, and UXBRIDGE begins the retreat of the
cavalry. CAPTAIN MERCER enters with a light battery.]
MERCER [excitedly]
Look back, my lord;
Is it not Bonaparte himself we see
Upon the road I have come by?
UXBRIDGE [looking through glass]
Yes, by God;
His face as clear-cut as the edge of a cloud
The sun behind shows up! His suite and all!
Fire—fire! And aim you well.
[The battery makes ready and fires.]
No! It won’t do.
He brings on mounted ordnance of his Guard,
So we’re in danger here. Then limber up,
And off as soon as may be.
[The English artillery and cavalry retreat at full speed, just as
the weather bursts, with flashes of lightning and drops of rain.
They all clatter off along the Brussels road, UXBRIDGE and his
aides galloping beside the column; till no British are left at
Quatre-Bras except the slain.
The focus of the scene follows the retreating English army, the
highway and its and margins panoramically gliding past the vision
of the spectator. The phantoms chant monotonously while the retreat
goes on.]
CHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music]
Day’s nether hours advance; storm supervenes
In heaviness unparalleled, that screens
With water-woven gauzes, vapour-bred,
The creeping clumps of half-obliterate red—
Severely harassed past each round and ridge
By the inimical lance. They gain the bridge
And village of Genappe, in equal fence
With weather and the enemy’s violence.
—Cannon upon the foul and flooded road,
Cavalry in the cornfields mire-bestrowed,
With frothy horses floundering to their knees,
Make wayfaring a moil of miseries!
Till Britishry and Bonapartists lose
Their clashing colours for the tawny hues
That twilight sets on all its stealing tinct imbues.
[The rising ground of Mont Saint-Jean, in front of Waterloo,
is gained by the English vanguard and main masses of foot, and
by degrees they are joined by the cavalry and artillery. The
French are but little later in taking up their position amid
the cornfields around La Belle Alliance.
Fires begin to shine up from the English bivouacs. Camp kettles
are slung, and the men pile arms and stand round the blaze to dry
themselves. The French opposite lie down like dead men in the
dripping green wheat and rye, without supper and without fire.
By and by the English army also lies down, the men huddling
together on the ploughed mud in their wet blankets, while some
sleep sitting round the dying fires.]
CHORUS OF THE YEARS [aerial music]
The eyelids of eve fall together at last,
And the forms so foreign to field and tree
Lie down as though native, and slumber fast!
CHORUS OF THE PITIES
Sore are the thrills of misgiving we see
In the artless champaign at this harlequinade,
Distracting a vigil where calm should be!
The green seems opprest, and the Plain afraid
Of a Something to come, whereof these are the proofs,—
Neither earthquake, nor storm, nor eclipses’s shade!