The two armies were ranged along the Niemen, their arms and uniforms flashing in the sun. On one bank were the lifeguards of Alexander, with their bearded faces and savage features; on the other, the guards of Napoleon, with their scarred faces, telling the story of many a victory. In the rear of the soldiers were thousands more, who had hastened to the banks of the Niemen to witness the interview of the two emperors. Shouts, laughter, and songs, resounded on both sides; the air was filled with a humming sound as from two immense swarms of bees. At times, greetings were sent across the river in a language mutually unintelligible. Suddenly, all this noise died away; the guards on both sides presented arms; the drums were beaten, and the bands played the national hymns of Russia and France. Amidst these jubilant notes the two emperors with their brilliant suites approached.
That small, vigorous man, whose delicate hand is holding firmly the bridle of his spirited white charger—he with the pale face and expansive forehead, crowned with light-brown hair; with impenetrable features, a cold, compressed mouth, and large, gloomy eyes—that man is Napoleon, Emperor of the French. Duroc, Berthier, Bessières, and Caulaincourt, form his suite, and follow him at a full gallop to the bank of the river.
That slender young man on the richly caparisoned black horse—that tall figure with smiling and handsome face, full of vigor, health, and vivacity—with soft, restless features; blue eyes radiant with enthusiasm, and crimson lips—is Alexander, Emperor of Russia. The Grand-duke Constantine, Generals Benningsen and Ouwaroff, Prince Labanoff, and Count Lieven, accompany him.
The two emperors dismount at the same time, and embark with their suites in the gondolas that are to convey them to the pavilion. The oarsmen keep time with their oars and the boats approach each other, reaching simultaneously the two staircases leading from the platform to the water. The two monarchs disembark at the same moment. Alexander and Napoleon stand face to face. For a moment they look at each other with inquiring glances, and then embrace in the most cordial manner.
This testimony of a frank reconciliation excited vehement applause among the spectators who lined the river; the French as well as the Russians stretched out their arms toward their newly-won friends on the other bank. "Peace!" shouted thousands. "Hail, ye friends and brethren! our enmity is over; our emperors have affectionately embraced each other, and like them their subjects will meet in love and peace! No more shedding of blood! Peace! peace!" The music joined with the exultant cries of the two nations, and the emperors stepped, keeping time with the bands, through the doors leading into the pavilion. They were alone. Only the eye of God could behold them. For a few moments they stood face to face, silent, and undecided which of them was to speak first, while the echoes of the music penetrated the heavily-curtained walls of the pavilion. Each of them seemed to be anxious to read the thoughts of the other in his face, and to look into the depths of his soul.
Napoleon's sonorous voice was the first to break the silence. "Why are we at war?" he asked with an inimitable smile, offering his hand to Alexander.
"It is true," exclaimed Alexander, as if awaking from a dream; "why are we at war? If your grudge is against England, and against her alone—if your majesty hates me only because I am the friend of that country, I can sever the alliance, and we shall easily agree, for I have as much reason to complain of her as you have, and shall readily support you in every thing your majesty may decide upon undertaking against her."
"In that case," said Napoleon, quickly, "everything can be arranged, and peace is a matter of certainty. England alone stood between us—perfidious, egotistic England, that is always interested only for herself, and is ready at any time to sacrifice her faithful and generous allies!"
"I have allowed England to deceive me a long while," exclaimed Alexander, vehemently; "for I once regarded that nation of traders as a nation of men, heroes, and profound diplomatists. But I was terribly undeceived. Those selfish shop-keepers amused me with fair but false promises; they care neither for my welfare nor for that of Europe, but only for their commerce. The egotism of Great Britain is equalled only by her narrow-minded avarice. I asked the British cabinet to guarantee a Russian loan, and they were impudent enough to refuse me, although they knew very well that I wished to negotiate it for the sole purpose of equipping an army, with which I intended to take the field more in the interest of England and Prussia, than in that of Russia. Faithful to my word, and to the treaties I had concluded, I nevertheless equipped my army and marched it into the field in order to join them. But where were my allies? Prussia could not add to my forces a single army, but a few corps, utterly demoralized by their misfortunes, and the assistance promised by England came so late that it failed in saving Dantzic. The English had taken their own time in appearing before that fortress; they had other matters to attend to in the Baltic; they had to make money by hunting up the merchant-vessels of other nations, and, in their brutality and avarice, they did not shrink from laying their rapacious hands even upon Russian ships! But while the English were taking unarmed vessels, and calculating their profits, and the Prussians were bewailing their misfortunes and dressing their wounds, I alone had to wage war and ingloriously to shed the blood of my poor soldiers for a cause that was hardly the cause of Russia. Ah, sire, I shall never forgive England for deserting me in the hour of danger, and for basely deceiving me by false promises!"
While Alexander was speaking, Napoleon had steadfastly fixed his eyes on him; he had looked through the restless, quivering face of the youthful emperor, into the recesses of his heart; and while Alexander, wholly absorbed in his wrongs, and alternately blushing and turning pale with indignation and grief, was uttering his reproaches, Napoleon said to himself, "Two sentiments of the speaker are predominant, and ought, therefore, to be flattered: spleen against allies, burdensome like Prussia, or selfish like England; and a very sensitive and deeply mortified pride. I must profit by them."