THE ROUTE BETWEEN LONDON AND PARIS [A view now nocturnal, now diurnal, from on high over the Straits of Dover, and stretching from city to city. By night Paris and London seem each as a little swarm of lights surrounded by a halo; by day as a confused glitter of white and grey. The Channel between them is as a mirror reflecting the sky, brightly or faintly, as the hour may be.]

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES What mean these couriers shooting shuttlewise To Paris and to London, turn and turn?

RUMOURS [chanting in antiphons] I The aforesaid tidings fro the minister, spokesman in England’s cause to states afar,

II Traverse the waters borne by one of such; and thereto Bonaparte’s responses are: I “The principles of honour and of truth which ever actuate the sender’s mind

II “Herein are written largely! Take our thanks: we read that this conjuncture undesigned

I “Unfolds felicitous means of showing you that still our eyes are set, as yours, on peace,

II “To which great end the Treaty of Amiens must be the ground- work of our amities.”

I From London then: “The path to amity the King of England studies to pursue;

II “With Russia hand in hand he is yours to close the long convulsions thrilling Europe through.”

I Still fare the shadowy missioners across, by Dover-road and Calais Channel-track,

II From Thames-side towers to Paris palace-gates; from Paris leisurely to London back.

I Till thus speaks France: “Much grief it gives us that, being pledged to treat, one Emperor with one King,

II “You yet have struck a jarring counternote and tone that keys not with such promising.

I “In these last word, then, of this pregnant parle; I trust I may persuade your Excellency

II “That in no circumstance, on no pretence, a party to our pact can Russia be.”

SPIRIT SINISTER Fortunately for the manufacture of corpses by machinery Napoléon sticks to this veto, and so wards off the awkward catastrophe of a general peace descending upon Europe. Now England.

RUMOURS [continuing] I Thereon speeds down through Kent and Picardy, evenly as some southing sky-bird’s shade:

II “We gather not from your Imperial lines a reason why our words should be reweighed. I “We hold Russia not as our ally that is to be: she stands fully- plighted so;

II “Thus trembles peace upon this balance-point: will you that Russia be let in or no?”

I Then France rolls out rough words across the strait: “To treat with you confederate with the Tsar,

II “Presumes us sunk in sloughs of shamefulness from which we yet stand gloriously afar!

I “The English army must be Flanders-fed, and entering Picardy with pompous prance,

II “To warrant such! Enough. Our comfort is, the crime of further strife lies not with France.”

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES Alas! what prayer will save the struggling lands, Whose lives are ninepins to these bowling hands?

CHORUS OF RUMOURS France secretly with—Russia plights her troth! Britain, that lonely isle, is slurred by both.

SPIRIT SINISTER It is as neat as an uncovered check at chess! You may now mark Fox’s blank countenance at finding himself thus rewarded for the good turn done to Bonaparte, and at the extraordinary conduct of his chilly friend the Muscovite.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES His hand so trembles it can scarce retain The quill wherewith he lets Lord Yarmouth know Reserve is no more needed!

SPIRIT IRONIC Now enters another character of this remarkable little piece—Lord Lauderdale—and again the messengers fly!

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES But what strange figure, pale and noiseless, comes, By us perceived, unrecognized by those, Into the very closet and retreat Of England’s Minister?

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS The Tipstaff he Of the Will, the Many-masked, my good friend Death.— The statesman’s feeble form you may perceive Now hustled into the Invisible, And the unfinished game of Dynasties Left to proceed without him!

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES Here, then, ends My hope for Europe’s reason-wrought repose! He was the friend of peace—did his great best To shed her balms upon humanity; And now he’s gone! No substitute remains.

SPIRIT IRONIC Ay; the remainder of the episode is frankly farcical. Negotiations are again affected; but finally you discern Lauderdale applying for passports; and the English Parliament declares to the nation that peace with France cannot be made.

RUMOURS [concluding] I The smouldering dudgeon of the Prussian king, meanwhile, upon the horizon’s rim afar

II Bursts into running flame, that all his signs of friendliness were met by moves for war.

I Attend and hear, for hear ye faintly may, his manifesto made at Erfurt town,

II That to arms only dares he now confide the safety and the honour of his crown!

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS Draw down the curtain, then, and overscreen This too-protracted verbal fencing-scene; And let us turn to clanging foot and horse, Ordnance, and all the enginry of Force! [Clouds close over the perspective.]