Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) (1022 page)

Princesses; in another carriage with four horses are two more

Princesses.  There are also present with the Royal Party the

LORD CHANCELLOR, LORD MULGRAVE, COUNT MUNSTER, and many other

luminaries of fashion and influence.

The Review proceeds in dumb show; and the din of many bands

mingles with the cheers.  The turf behind the saluting-point

is crowded with carriages and spectators on foot.]

A SPECTATOR

And you've come to the sight, like the King and myself?  Well, one

fool makes many.  What a mampus o' folk it is here to-day!  And what

a time we do live in, between wars and wassailings, the goblin o'

Boney, and King George in flesh and blood!

SECOND SPECTATOR

Yes.  I wonder King George is let venture down on this coast, where

he might be snapped up in a moment like a minney by a her'n, so near

as we be to the field of Boney's vagaries!  Begad, he's as like to

land here as anywhere.  Gloucester Lodge could be surrounded, and

George and Charlotte carried off before he could put on his hat, or

she her red cloak and pattens!

THIRD SPECTATOR

'Twould be so such joke to kidnap 'em as you think.  Look at the

frigates down there.  Every night they are drawn up in a line

across the mouth of the Bay, almost touching each other; and

ashore a double line of sentinels, well primed with beer and

ammunition, one at the water's edge and the other on the

Esplanade, stretch along the whole front.  Then close to the

Lodge a guard is mounted after eight o'clock; there be pickets

on all the hills; at the Harbour mouth is a battery of twenty

four-pounders; and over-right 'em a dozen six-pounders, and

several howitzers.  And next look at the size of the camp of

horse and foot up here.

FIRST SPECTATOR

Everybody however was fairly gallied this week when the King went

out yachting, meaning to be back for the theatre; and the eight or

nine o'clock came, and never a sign of him.  I don't know when 'a

did land; but 'twas said by all that it was a foolhardy pleasure

to take.

FOURTH SPECTATOR

He's a very obstinate and comical old gentleman; and by all account

'a wouldn't make port when asked to.

SECOND SPECTATOR

Lard, Lard, if 'a were nabbed, it wouldn't make a deal of difference!

We should have nobody to zing, and play singlestick to, and grin at

through horse-collars, that's true.  And nobody to sign our few

documents.  But we should rub along some way, goodnow.

FIRST SPECTATOR

Step up on this barrow; you can see better.  The troopers now passing

are the York Hussars—foreigners to a man, except the officers—the

same regiment the two young Germans belonged to who were shot four

years ago.  Now come the Light Dragoons; what a time they take to

get all past!  Well, well! this day will be recorded in history.

SECOND SPECTATOR

Or another soon to follow it! 
[He gazes over the Channel.]
  There's

not a speck of an enemy upon that shiny water yet; but the Brest

fleet is zaid to have put to sea, to act in concert with the army

crossing from Boulogne; and if so the French will soon be here; when

God save us all!  I've took to drinking neat, for, say I, one may

as well have innerds burnt out as shot out, and 'tis a good deal

pleasanter for the man that owns 'em.  They say that a cannon-ball

knocked poor Jim Popple's maw right up into the futtock-shrouds at

the Nile, where 'a hung like a nightcap out to dry.  Much good to

him his obeying his old mother's wish and refusing his allowance

o' rum!

[The bands play and the Review continues till past eleven o'clock.

Then follows a sham fight.  At noon precisely the royal carriages

draw off the ground into the highway that leads down to the town

and Gloucester Lodge, followed by other equipages in such numbers

that the road is blocked.  A multitude comes after on foot.

Presently the vehicles manage to proceed to the watering-place, and

the troops march away to the various camps as a sea-mist cloaks the

perspective.]

SCENE V

THE SAME.  RAINBARROW'S BEACON, EGDON HEATH

[Night in mid-August of the same summer.  A lofty ridge of

heathland reveals itself dimly, terminating in an abrupt slope,

at the summit of which are three tumuli.  On the sheltered side

of the most prominent of these stands a hut of turves with a

brick chimney.  In front are two ricks of fuel, one of heather

and furze for quick ignition, the other of wood, for slow burning.

Something in the feel of the darkness and in the personality of

the spot imparts a sense of uninterrupted space around, the view

by day extending from the cliffs of the Isle of Wight eastward

to Blackdon Hill by Deadman's Bay westward, and south across the

Valley of the Froom to the ridge that screens the Channel.

Two men with pikes loom up, on duty as beacon-keepers beside the

ricks.]

OLD MAN

Now, Jems Purchess, once more mark my words.  Black'on is the point

we've to watch, and not Kingsbere; and I'll tell 'ee for why.  If he

do land anywhere hereabout 'twill be inside Deadman's Bay, and the

signal will straightaway come from Black'on.  But there thou'st

stand, glowering and staring with all thy eyes at Kingsbere!  I tell

'ee what 'tis, Jem Purchess, your brain is softening; and you be

getting too old for business of state like ours!

YOUNG MAN

You've let your tongue wrack your few rames of good breeding, John.

OLD MAN

The words of my Lord-Lieutenant was, whenever you see Kingsbere-Hill

Beacon fired to the eastward, or Black'on to the westward, light up;

and keep your second fire burning for two hours.  Was that our

documents or was it not?

YOUNG MAN

I don't gainsay it.  And so I keep my eye on Kingsbere because that's

most likely o' the two, says I.

OLD MAN

That shows the curious depths of your ignorance.  However, I'll have

patience, and say on.  Didst ever larn geography?

YOUNG MAN

No.  Nor no other corrupt practices.

OLD MAN

Tcht-tcht!—Well, I'll have patience, and put it to him in another

form.  Dost know the world is round—eh?  I warrant dostn't!

YOUNG MAN

I warrant I do!

OLD MAN

How d'ye make that out, when th'st never been to school?

YOUNG MAN

I larned it at church, thank God.

OLD MAN

Church?  What have God A'mighty got to do with profane knowledge?

Beware that you baint blaspheming, Jems Purchess!

YOUNG MAN

I say I did, whether or no!  'Twas the zingers up in gallery that

I had it from.  They busted out that strong with "the round world

and they that dwell therein," that we common fokes down under could

do no less than believe 'em.

OLD MAN

Canst be sharp enough in the wrong place as usual—I warrant canst!

However, I'll have patience with 'en and say on!—Suppose, now, my

hat is the world; and there, as might be, stands the Camp of Belong,

where Boney is.  The world goes round, so, and Belong goes round too.

Twelve hours pass; round goes the world still—so.  Where's Belong

now?

[A pause.  Two other figures, a man's and a woman's, rise against

the sky out of the gloom.]

OLD MAN
[shouldering his pike]

Who goes there?  Friend or foe, in the King's name!

WOMAN

Piece o' trumpery!  "Who goes" yourself!  What d'ye talk o', John

Whiting!  Can't your eyes earn their living any longer, then, that

you don't know your own neighbours?  'Tis Private Cantle of the

Locals and his wife Keziar, down at Bloom's-End—who else should

it be!

OLD MAN
[lowering his pike]

A form o' words, Mis'ess Cantle, no more; ordained by his Majesty's

Gover'ment to be spoke by all we on sworn duty for the defence o' the

country.  Strict rank-and-file rules is our only horn of salvation in

these times.—But, my dear woman, why ever have ye come lumpering up

to Rainbarrows at this time o' night?

WOMAN

We've been troubled with bad dreams, owing to the firing out at sea

yesterday; and at last I could sleep no more, feeling sure that

sommat boded of His coming.  And I said to Cantle, I'll ray myself,

and go up to Beacon, and ask if anything have been heard or seen to-

night.  And here we be.

OLD MAN

Not a sign or sound—all's as still as a churchyard.  And how is

your good man?

PRIVATE
[advancing]

Clk.  I be all right!  I was in the ranks, helping to keep the ground

at the review by the King this week.  We was a wonderful sight—

wonderful!  The King said so again and again.—Yes, there was he, and

there was I, though not daring to move a' eyebrow in the presence of

Majesty.  I have come home on a night's leave—off there again to-

morrow.  Boney's expected every day, the Lord be praised!  Yes, our

hopes are to be fulfilled soon, as we say in the army.

OLD MAN

There, there, Cantle; don't ye speak quite so large, and stand

so over-upright.  Your back is as holler as a fire-dog's.  Do ye

suppose that we on active service here don't know war news?  Mind

you don't go taking to your heels when the next alarm comes, as you

did at last year's.

PRIVATE

That had nothing to do with fighting, for I'm as bold as a lion when

I'm up, and "Shoulder Fawlocks!" sounds as common as my own name to

me.  'Twas—-
[lowering his voice.]
  Have ye heard?

OLD MAN

To be sure we have.

PRIVATE

Ghastly, isn't it!

OLD MAN

Ghastly!  Frightful!

YOUNG MAN
[to Private]

He don't know what it is!  That's his pride and puffery.  What is it

that' so ghastly—hey?

PRIVATE

Well, there, I can't tell it.  'Twas that that made the whole eighty

of our company run away—though we be the bravest of the brave in

natural jeopardies, or the little boys wouldn't run after us and

call us and call us the "Bang-up-Locals."

WOMAN
[in undertones]

I can tell you a word or two on't.  It is about His victuals.  They

say that He lives upon human flesh, and has rashers o' baby every

morning for breakfast—for all the world like the Cernal Giant in

old ancient times!

YOUNG MAN

Ye can't believe all ye hear.

PRIVATE

I only believe half.  And I only own—such is my challengeful

character—that perhaps He do eat pagan infants when He's in the

desert.  But not Christian ones at home.  Oh no—'tis too much.

WOMAN

Whether or no, I sometimes—God forgive me!—laugh wi' horror at

the queerness o't, till I am that weak I can hardly go round the

house.  He should have the washing of 'em a few times; I warrant

'a wouldn't want to eat babies any more!

[A silence, during which they gaze around at the dark dome of the

starless sky.]

YOUNG MAN

There'll be a change in the weather soon, by the look o't.  I can

hear the cows moo in Froom Valley as if I were close to 'em, and

the lantern at Max Turnpike is shining quite plain.

OLD MAN

Well, come in and taste a drop o' sommat we've got here, that will

warm the cockles of your heart as ye wamble homealong.  We housed

eighty tuns last night for them that shan't be named—landed at

Lullwind Cove the night afore, though they had a narrow shave with

the riding-officers this run.

[They make toward the hut, when a light on the west horizon becomes

visible, and quickly enlarges.]

YOUNG MAN

He's come!

OLD MAN

Come he is, though you do say it!  This, then, is the beginning of

what England's waited for!

[They stand and watch the light awhile.]

YOUNG MAN

Just what you was praising the Lord for by-now, Private Cantle.

PRIVATE

My meaning was—-

WOMAN
[simpering]

Oh that I hadn't married a fiery sojer, to make me bring fatherless

children into the world, all through his dreadful calling!  Why

didn't a man of no sprawl content me!

OLD MAN
[shouldering his pike]

We can't heed your innocent pratings any longer, good neighbours,

being in the King's service, and a hot invasion on.  Fall in, fall

in, mate.  Straight to the tinder-box.  Quick march!

[The two men hasten to the hut, and are heard striking a flint

and steel.  Returning with a lit lantern they ignite a blaze.

The private of the Locals and his wife hastily retreat by the

light of the flaming beacon, under which the purple rotundities