Napoleon created the Empire—the vast drama was his own. However he might please to represent royalty, however he might like to ally the splendours of a throne with the glories of a great captain, it was all his own doing. But how miserably deficient were the others in that faculty of adaptation that made him “de pair” with every dynasty of Europe!
Into these thoughts I was led by finding myself standing in the Rue Taibout, opposite the house which was once celebrated as the Café du Roi—a name which it bore for many years under the Empire, and, in consequence, was held in high esteem by certain worthy Légitimistes, who little knew that the “King” was only a pretender, and, so far from being his sainted majesty Louis Dix-huit, was merely Jerome Buonaparte, king of Westphalia.
The name originated thus:—One warm evening in autumn, a young man, somewhat over-dressed in the then “mode” with a very considerable border of pinkish silk stocking seen above the margin of his low boots “à revers” and a most inordinate amount of coat-collar, lounged along the Boulevard Italiens, occasionally ogling the passers-by, but, oftener still, throwing an admiring glance at himself, as the splendid windows of plate-glass reflected back his figure. His whole air and mien exhibited the careless insouciance of one with whom the world went easily, asking little from him of exertion, less still of forethought.
He had just reached the angle of the Rue Vi-vienne, and was about to turn, when two persons advanced towards him, whose very different style of dress and appearance bespoke very different treatment at the hands of Fortune. They were both young, and, although palpably men of a certain rank and condition, were equally what is called out-at-elbows; hats that exhibited long intimacy with rain and wind, shoes of very questionable colour, coats suspiciously buttoned about the throat, being all signs of circumstances that were far from flourishing.
“Ah, Chopard, is’t thou?” said the fashionably dressed man, advancing with open hand to each, and speaking in the “tu” of intimate friendship, “And thou, too, Brissole, how goes it? What an age since we have met! Art long in Paris?”
“About two hours,” said the first. “Just as I stepped out of the Place des Victoires I met our old friend here; and, strange enough, now we have come upon you; three old schoolfellows thus assembled at a hazard!”
“A minute later, and we should have missed each other,” said Brissole. “I was about to take my place in the malle for Nancy.”
“To leave Paris?” exclaimed both the others.
“Even so—to leave Paris! I’ve had enough of it.”
“Come, what do you mean by this?” said Cho-pard; “it sounds very like discouragement to me, who have come up here with all manner of notions of fortune, wealth, and honours.”