THE SAME. NEAR THE WINDMILL OF PALENY [The mill is about seven miles to the southward, between French advanced posts and the Austrians. A bivouac fire is burning. NAPOLÉON, in grey overcoat and beaver hat turned up front to back, rides to the spot with BERTHIER, SAVARY, and his aides, and alights. He walks to and fro complacently, meditating or talking to BERTHIER. Two groups of officers, one from each army, stand in the background on their respective sides.]

NAPOLÉON What’s this of Alexander? Weep, did he, Like his old namesake, but for meaner cause? Ha, ha!

BERTHIER Word goes, you Majesty, that Colonel Toll, One of Field-Marshal Price Kutúzof’s staff, In the retreating swirl of overthrow, Found Alexander seated on a stone, Beneath a leafless roadside apple-tree, Out here by Goding on the Holitsch way; His coal-black uniform and snowy plume Unmarked, his face disconsolate, his grey eyes Mourning in tears the fate of his brave array— All flying southward, save the steadfast slain.

NAPOLÉON Poor devil!—But he’ll soon get over it— Sooner than his employers oversea!— Ha!—this well make friend Pitt and England writhe, And cloud somewhat their lustrous Trafalgar. [An open carriage approaches from the direction of Holitsch, accompanied by a small escort of Hungarian guards. NAPOLÉON walks forward to meet it as it draws up, and welcomes the Austrian Emperor, who alights. He is wearing a grey cloak over a white uniform, carries a light walking-cane, and is attended by PRINCE JOHN OF LICHTENSTEIN, SWARZENBERG, and others. His fresh-coloured face contrasts strangely with the bluish pallor of NAPOLÉON’S; but it is now thin and anxious. They formally embrace. BERTHIER, PRINCE JOHN, and the rest retire, and the two Emperors are left by themselves before the fire.]

NAPOLÉON Here on the roofless ground do I receive you— My only mansion for these two months past!

FRANCIS Your tenancy thereof has brought such fame That it must needs be one which charms you, Sire.

NAPOLÉON Good! Now this war. It has been forced on me Just at a crisis most inopportune, When all my energies and arms were bent On teaching England that her watery walls Are no defence against the wrath of France Aroused by breach of solemn covenants.

FRANCIS I had no zeal for violating peace Till ominous events in Italy Revealed the gloomy truth that France aspires To conquest there, and undue sovereignty. Since when mine eyes have seen no sign outheld To signify a change of purposings.

NAPOLÉON Yet there were terms distinctly specified To General Giulay in November past, Whereon I’d gladly fling the sword aside. To wit: that hot armigerent jealousy Stir us no further on transalpine rule, I’d take the Isonzo River as our bounds.

FRANCIS Roundly, that I cede all!—And how may stand Your views as to the Russian forces here?

NAPOLÉON You have all to lose by that alliance, Sire. Leave Russia. Let the Emperor Alexander Make his own terms; whereof the first must be That he retire from Austrian territory. I’ll grant an armistice therefor. Anon I’ll treat with him to weld a lasting peace, Based on some simple undertakings; chief, That Russian armies keep to the ports of his domain. Meanwhile to you I’ll tender this good word: Keep Austria to herself. To Russia bound, You pay your own costs with your provinces, Alexander’s likewise therewithal.

FRANCIS I see as much, and long have seen it, Sire; And standing here the vanquished, let me own What happier issues might have left unsaid: Long, long I have lost the wish to bind myself To Russia’s purposings and Russia’s risks; Little do I count these alliances With Powers that have no substance seizable! [As they converse they walk away.]

AN AUSTRIAN OFFICER O strangest scene of an eventful life, This junction that I witness here to-day! An Emperor—in whose majestic veins Aeneas and the proud Caesarian line Claim yet to live; and, those scarce less renowned, The dauntless Hawks’-Hold Counts, of gallantry So great in fame one thousand years ago— To bend with deference and manners mild In talk with this adventuring campaigner, Raised but by pikes above the common herd!

ANOTHER AUSTRIAN OFFICER Ay! There be Satschan swamps and Pratzen heights In royal lines, as here at Austerlitz. [The Emperors again draw near.]

FRANCIS Then, to this armistice, which shall be called Immediately at all points, I agree; And pledge my word that my august ally Accept it likewise, and withdraw his force By daily measured march to his own realm.

NAPOLÉON For him I take your word. And pray believe That rank ambitions are your own, not mine; That though I have postured as your enemy, And likewise Alexander’s, we are one In interests, have in all things common cause. One country sows these mischiefs Europe through By her insidious chink of luring ore— False-featured England, who, to aggrandize Her name, her influence, and her revenues, Schemes to impropriate the whole world’s trade, And starves and bleeds the folk of other lands. Her rock-rimmed situation walls her off Like a slim selfish mollusk in its shell From the wide views and fair fraternities Which on the mainland we reciprocate, And quicks her quest for profit in our woes!

FRANCIS I am not competent, your Majesty, To estimate that country’s conscience now, Nor engage on my ally’s behalf That English ships be shut from Russian trade. But joyful am I that in all things else My promise can be made; and that this day Our conference ends in friendship and esteem.

NAPOLÉON I will send Savary at to-morrow’s blink And make all lucid to the Emperor. For us, I wholly can avow as mine The cordial spirit of your Majesty. [They retire towards the carriage of FRANCIS. BERTHIER, SAVARY, LICHTENSTEIN, and the suite of officers advance from the background, and with mutual gestures of courtesy and amicable leave-takings the two Emperors part company.]

CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music] Each for himself, his family, his heirs; For the wan weltering nations who concerns, who cares?

CHORUS OF IRONIC SPIRITS A pertinent query, in truth!— But spoil not the sport by your ruth: ’Tis enough to make half Yonder zodiac laugh When rulers begin to allude To their lack of ambition, And strong opposition To all but the general good!

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS Hush levities. Events press: turn ye westward. [A nebulous curtain draws slowly across.]