A FETE AT VAUXHALL [It is the Vitoria festival at Vauxhall. The orchestra of the renowned gardens exhibits a blaze of lamps and candles arranged in the shape of a temple, a great artificial sun glowing at the top, and under it in illuminated characters the words “Vitoria” and “Wellington.” The band is playing the new air “The Plains of Vitoria.” All round the colonnade of the rotunda are to be read in the illumination the names of Peninsular victories, underneath them figuring the names of British and Spanish generals who led at those battles, surmounted by wreaths of laurel The avenues stretching away from the rotunda into the gardens charm the eyes with their mild multitudinous lights, while festoons of lamps hang from the trees elsewhere, and transparencies representing scenes from the war. The gardens and saloons are crowded, among those present being the KING’S sons—the DUKES OF YORK, CLARENCE, KENT, and CAMBRIDGE— Ambassadors, peers, and peeresses, and other persons of quality, English and foreign. In the immediate foreground on the left hand is an alcove, the interior of which is in comparative obscurity. Two foreign attachés enter it and sit down.]

FIRST ATTACHE Ah—now for the fireworks. They are under the direction of Colonel Congreve. [At the end of an alley, purposely kept dark, fireworks are discharged.]

SECOND ATTACHE Very good: very good.—This looks like the Duke of Sussex coming in, I think. Who the lady is with him I don’t know. [Enter the DUKE OF SUSSEX in a Highland dress, attended by several officers in like attire. He walks about the gardens with LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL.]

FIRST ATTACHE People have been paying a mighty price for tickets—as much as fifteen guineas has been offered, I hear. I had to walk up to the gates; the number of coaches struggling outside prevented my driving near. It was as bad as the battle of Vitoria itself.

SECOND ATTACHE So Wellington is made Field-Marshal for his achievement.

FIRST ATTACHE Yes. By the by, you have heard of the effect of the battle upon the Conference at Reichenbach?—that Austria is to join Russia and Prussia against France? So much for Napoléon’s marriage! I wonder what he thinks of his respected father-in-law now.

SECOND ATTACHE Of course, an enormous subsidy is paid to Francis by Great Britain for this face-about?

FIRST ATTACHE Yes. As Bonaparte says, English guineas are at the bottom of everything!—Ah, here comes Caroline. [The PRINCESS OF WALES arrives, attended by LADY ANNE HAMILTON and LADY GLENBERVIE. She is conducted forward by the DUKE OF GLOUCESTER and COLONEL ST. LEDGER, and wears a white satin train with a dark embroidered bodice, and a green wreath with diamonds. Repeated hurrahs greet her from the crowd. She bows courteously.]

SECOND ATTACHE The people are staunch for her still!... You heard, sir, what Austrian Francis said when he learnt of Vitoria?—“A warm climate seems to agree with my son-in-law no better than a cold one.”

FIRST ATTACHE Ha-ha-ha! Marvellous it is how this loud victory Has couched the late blind Europe’s Cabinets. Would I could spell precisely what was phrased ’Twixt Bonaparte and Metternich at Dresden— Their final word, I ween, till God knows when!—

SECOND ATTACHE I own to feeling it a sorry thing That Francis should take English money down To throw off Bonaparte. ’Tis sordid, mean! He is his daughter’s husband after all.

FIRST ATTACHE Ay; yes!... They say she knows not of it yet.

SECOND ATTACHE Poor thing, I daresay it will harry her When all’s revealed. But the inside o’t is, Since Castlereagh’s return to power last year Vienna, like Berlin and Petersburg, Has harboured England’s secret emissaries, Primed, purse in hand, with the most lavish sums To knit the league to drag Napoléon down.... [More fireworks.] That’s grand.—Here comes one Royal item more. [The DUCHESS OF YORK enters, attended by her ladies and by the HON. B. CRAVEN and COLONEL BARCLAY. She is received with signals of respect.]

FIRST ATTACHE She calls not favour forth as Caroline can!

SECOND ATTACHE To end my words:—Though happy for this realm, Austria’s desertion frankly is, by God, Rank treachery!

FIRST ATTACHE Whatever it is, it means Two hundred thousand swords for the Allies, And enemies in batches for Napoléon Leaping from unknown lairs.—Yes, something tells me That this is the beginning of the end For Emperor Bonaparte! [The PRINCESS OF WALES prepares to leave. An English diplomatist joins the attachés in the alcove. The PRINCESS and her ladies go out.]

DIPLOMATIST I saw you over here, and I came round. Cursed hot and crowded, isn’t it?

SECOND ATTACHE What is the Princess leaving so soon for?

DIPLOMATIST Oh, she has not been received in the Royal box by the other members of the Royal Family, and it has offended her, though she was told beforehand that she could not be. Poor devil! Nobody invited her here. She came unasked, and she has gone unserved.

FIRST ATTACHE We shall have to go unserved likewise, I fancy. The scramble at the buffets is terrible.

DIPLOMATIST And the road from here to Marsh Gate is impassable. Some ladies have been sitting in their coaches for hours outside the hedge there. We shall not get home till noon to-morrow.

A VOICE [from the back] Take care of your watches! Pickpockets!

FIRST ATTACHE Good. That relieves the monotony a little. [Excitement in the throng. When it has subsided the band strikes up a country dance, and stewards with white ribbons and laurel leaves are seen bustling about.]

SECOND ATTACHE Let us go and look at the dancing. It is “Voulez-vous danser”—no, it is not,—it is “Enrico”—two ladies between two gentlemen. [They go from the alcove.]

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS From this phantasmagoria let us roam To the chief wheel and capstan of the show, Distant afar. I pray you closely read What I reveal—wherein each feature bulks In measure with its value humanly. [The beholder finds himself, as it were, caught up on high, and while the Vauxhall scene still dimly twinkles below, he gazes southward towards Central Europe—the contorted and attenuated ecorche of the Continent appearing as in an earlier scene, but now obscure under the summer stars.] Three cities loom out large: Vienna there, Dresden, which holds Napoléon, over here, And Leipzig, whither we shall shortly wing, Out yonderwards. ’Twixt Dresden and Vienna What thing do you discern?

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES Something broad-faced, Flat-folded, parchment-pale, and in its shape Rectangular; but moving like a cloud The Dresden way.

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS Yet gaze more closely on it.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES The object takes a letter’s lineaments Though swollen to mainsail measure,—magically, I gather from your words; and on its face Are three vast seals, red—signifying blood Must I suppose? It moves on Dresden town, And dwarfs the city as it passes by.— You say Napoléon’s there?

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS The document, Sized to its big importance, as I told, Bears in it formal declaration, signed, Of war by Francis with his late-linked son, The Emperor of France. Now let us go To Leipzig city, and await the blow. [A chaotic gloom ensues, accompanied by a rushing like that of a mighty wind.]