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 \\