Thomas Hardy — The Peasants Confession

Good Father! . . . 'Twas an eve in middle June,        &nbsp And war was waged anew By great Napoleon, who for years had strewn        &nbsp Men's bones all Europe through. Three nights ere this, with columned corps he'd crossed        &nbsp The Sambre at Charleroi, To move on Brussels, where the English host        &nbsp Dallied in Parc and Bois. The yestertide we'd heard the gloomy gun        &nbsp Growl through the long-sunned day From Quatre-Bras and Ligny; till the dun        &nbsp Twilight suppressed the fray; Albeit therein—as lated tongues bespoke -        &nbsp Brunswick's high heart was drained, And Prussia's Line and Landwehr, though unbroke,        &nbsp Stood cornered and constrained. And at next noon-time Grouchy slowly passed        &nbsp With thirty thousand men: We hoped thenceforth no army, small or vast,        &nbsp Would trouble us again. My hut lay deeply in a vale recessed,        &nbsp And never a soul seemed nigh When, reassured at length, we went to rest -        &nbsp My children, wife, and I. But what was this that broke our humble ease?        &nbsp What noise, above the rain, Above the dripping of the poplar trees        &nbsp That smote along the pane? - A call of mastery, bidding me arise,        &nbsp Compelled me to the door, At which a horseman stood in martial guise -        &nbsp Splashed—sweating from every pore. Had I seen Grouchy? Yes? Which track took he?        &nbsp Could I lead thither on? - Fulfilment would ensure gold pieces three,        &nbsp Perchance more gifts anon. "I bear the Emperor's mandate," then he said,        &nbsp "Charging the Marshal straight To strike between the double host ahead        &nbsp Ere they co-operate, "Engaging Blucher till the Emperor put        &nbsp Lord Wellington to flight, And next the Prussians. This to set afoot        &nbsp Is my emprise to-night." I joined him in the mist; but, pausing, sought        &nbsp To estimate his say. Grouchy had made for Wavre; and yet, on thought,        &nbsp I did not lead that way. I mused: "If Grouchy thus instructed be,        &nbsp The clash comes sheer hereon; My farm is stript. While, as for pieces three,        &nbsp Money the French have none. "Grouchy unwarned, moreo'er, the English win,        &nbsp And mine is left to me - They buy, not borrow."—Hence did I begin        &nbsp To lead him treacherously. By Joidoigne, near to east, as we ondrew,        &nbsp Dawn pierced the humid air; And eastward faced I with him, though I knew        &nbsp Never marched Grouchy there. Near Ottignies we passed, across the Dyle        &nbsp (Lim'lette left far aside), And thence direct toward Pervez and Noville        &nbsp Through green grain, till he cried: "I doubt thy conduct, man! no track is here -        &nbsp I doubt thy gaged word!" Thereat he scowled on me, and pranced me near,        &nbsp And pricked me with his sword. "Nay, Captain, hold! We skirt, not trace the course        &nbsp Of Grouchy," said I then: "As we go, yonder went he, with his force        &nbsp Of thirty thousand men." - At length noon nighed; when west, from Saint-John's-Mound,        &nbsp A hoarse artillery boomed, And from Saint-Lambert's upland, chapel-crowned,        &nbsp The Prussian squadrons loomed. Then to the wayless wet gray ground he leapt;        &nbsp "My mission fails!" he cried; "Too late for Grouchy now to intercept,        &nbsp For, peasant, you have lied!" He turned to pistol me. I sprang, and drew        &nbsp The sabre from his flank, And 'twixt his nape and shoulder, ere he knew,        &nbsp I struck, and dead he sank. I hid him deep in nodding rye and oat -        &nbsp His shroud green stalks and loam; His requiem the corn-blade's husky note -        &nbsp And then I hastened home, . . . - Two armies writhe in coils of red and blue,        &nbsp And brass and iron clang From Goumont, past the front of Waterloo,        &nbsp To Pap'lotte and Smohain. The Guard Imperial wavered on the height;        &nbsp The Emperor's face grew glum; "I sent," he said, "to Grouchy yesternight,        &nbsp And yet he does not come!" 'Twas then, Good Father, that the French espied,        &nbsp Streaking the summer land, The men of Blucher. But the Emperor cried,        &nbsp "Grouchy is now at hand!" And meanwhile Vand'leur, Vivian, Maitland, Kempt,        &nbsp Met d'Erlon, Friant, Ney; But Grouchy—mis-sent, blamed, yet blame-exempt -        &nbsp Grouchy was far away. By even, slain or struck, Michel the strong,        &nbsp Bold Travers, Dnop, Delord, Smart Guyot, Reil-le, l'Heriter, Friant,        &nbsp Scattered that champaign o'er. Fallen likewise wronged Duhesme, and skilled Lobau        &nbsp Did that red sunset see; Colbert, Legros, Blancard! . . . And of the foe        &nbsp Picton and Ponsonby; With Gordon, Canning, Blackman, Ompteda,        &nbsp L'Estrange, Delancey, Packe, Grose, D'Oyly, Stables, Morice, Howard, Hay,        &nbsp Von Schwerin, Watzdorf, Boek, Smith, Phelips, Fuller, Lind, and Battersby,        &nbsp And hosts of ranksmen round . . . Memorials linger yet to speak to thee        &nbsp Of those that bit the ground! The Guards' last column yielded; dykes of dead        &nbsp Lay between vale and ridge, As, thinned yet closing, faint yet fierce, they sped        &nbsp In packs to Genappe Bridge. Safe was my stock; my capple cow unslain;        &nbsp Intact each cock and hen; But Grouchy far at Wavre all day had lain,        &nbsp And thirty thousand men. O Saints, had I but lost my earing corn        &nbsp And saved the cause once prized! O Saints, why such false witness had I borne        &nbsp When late I'd sympathized! . . . So now, being old, my children eye askance        &nbsp My slowly dwindling store, And crave my mite; till, worn with tarriance,        &nbsp I care for life no more. To Almighty God henceforth I stand confessed,        &nbsp And Virgin-Saint Marie; O Michael, John, and Holy Ones in rest,        &nbsp Entreat the Lord for me!