The Dynasts. Томас Харди

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      DECRES

       Such news was what I'd hoped, your Majesty,

       To send across this daybreak. But events

       Have proved intractable, it seems, of late;

       And hence I haste in person to report

       The featless facts that just have dashed my—-

      NAPOLEON [darkening]

       Well?

      DECRES

       Sire, at the very juncture when the fleets

       Sailed out from Ferrol, fever raged aboard

       “L'Achille” and “l'Algeciras”: later on,

       Mischief assailed our Spanish comrades' ships;

       Several ran foul of neighbours; whose new hurts,

       Being added to their innate clumsiness,

       Gave hap the upper hand; and in quick course

       Demoralized the whole; until Villeneuve,

       Judging that Calder now with Nelson rode,

       And prescient of unparalleled disaster

       If he pushed on in so disjoint a trim,

       Bowed to the inevitable; and thus, perforce,

       Leaving to other opportunity

       Brest and the Channel scheme, with vast regret

       Steered southward into Cadiz.

      NAPOLEON [having risen from the table]

       What!—Is, then,

       My scheme of years to be disdained and dashed

       By this man's like, a wretched moral coward,

       Whom you must needs foist on me as one fit

       For full command in pregnant enterprise!

      MONGE [aside]

       I'm one too many here! Let me step out

       Till this black squall blows over. Poor Decres.

       Would that this precious project, disinterred

       From naval archives of King Louis' reign,

       Had ever lingered fusting where 'twas found.7 [Exit Monge.]

      NAPOLEON

       To help a friend you foul a country's fame!—

       Decres, not only chose you this Villeneuve,

       But you have nourished secret sour opinions

       Akin to his, and thereby helped to scathe

       As stably based a project as this age

       Has sunned to ripeness. Ever the French Marine

       Have you decried, ever contrived to bring

       Despair into the fleet! Why, this Villeneuve,

       Your man, this rank incompetent, this traitor—

       Of whom I asked no more than fight and lose,

       Provided he detain the enemy—

       A frigate is too great for his command!

       what shall be said of one who, at a breath,

       When a few casual sailors find them sick,

       When falls a broken boom or slitten sail,

       When rumour hints that Calder's tubs and Nelson's

       May join, and bob about in company,

       Is straightway paralyzed, and doubles back

       On all his ripened plans!—

       Bring him, ay, bodily; hale him out from Cadiz,

       Compel him up the Channel by main force,

       And, having doffed him his supreme command,

       Give the united squadrons to Ganteaume!

      DECRES

       Your Majesty, while umbraged, righteously,

       By an event my tongue dragged dry to tell,

       Makes my hard situation over-hard

       By your ascription to the actors in't

       Of motives such and such. 'Tis not for me

       To answer these reproaches, Sire, and ask

       Why years-long mindfulness of France's fame

       In things marine should win no confidence.

       I speak; but am unable to convince!

       True is it that this man has been my friend

       Since boyhood made us schoolmates; and I say

       That he would yield the heel-drops of his heart

       With joyful readiness this day, this hour,

       To do his country service. Yet no less

       Is it his drawback that he sees too far.

       And there are times, Sire, when a shorter sight

       Charms Fortune more. A certain sort of bravery

       Some people have—to wit, this same Lord Nelson—

       Which is but fatuous faith in one's own star

       Swoln to the very verge of childishness,

       [Smugly disguised as putting trust in God,

       A habit with these English folk]; whereby

       A headstrong blindness to contingencies

       Carries the actor on, and serves him well

       In some nice issues clearer sight would mar.

       Such eyeless bravery Villeneuve has not;

       But, Sire, he is no coward.

      NAPOLEON

       Well, have it so!—What are we going to do?

       My brain has only one wish—to succeed!

      DECRES

       My voice wanes weaker with you, Sire; is nought!

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