The same power of concentrativeness that he so eminently possessed himself, he imparted, as if by magic, to his Government. Paris was France; to the capital flocked all whose talent or zeal prompted them to seek for advancement. The Emperor was not only the fountain of all honor, but of all emolument and place. So patronage was exercised without his permission; and none was conferred without the conviction that some stanch adherent was secured whose friendship was ratified, or whose former enmity was conciliated.
Thus passed the year that followed his accession to the throne,—that brilliant pageant of a nation's enthusiasm rendering tribute to the majesty of intellect. At length the period of inaction seemed drawing to a close; and a greater activity in the war department, and a new levy of troops, betokened the approach of some more energetic measures. Men whispered that the English expedition was about to sail, and reinforcements of ammunition and artillery were despatched to the coast, when suddenly came the news of Trafalgar. Villeneuve was beaten,— his fleet annihilated,—the whole combination of events destroyed; and England, again triumphant on the element she had made her own, hurled defiance at the threats of her enemy. The same despatch that brought the intelligence to Mayence told us to be in readiness for a movement; but when, or where to, none of us could surmise. Still detachments from various corps stationed about were marched into the garrison, skeleton regiments commanded to make up their deficiencies, and a renewed energy was everywhere perceptible. At last, towards the middle of August, I was sent for by the general in command of the fortress, and informed that General d'Auvergne had been promoted to the command of a cavalry brigade stationed at Coblentz.
“You are to join him there immediately,” continued he; “but here is a note from himself, which probably will explain everything.” And with that he handed me a small sealed letter.
It was the first, save on purely regimental matters, I had ever received from him, and somehow I felt unusually anxious about its contents. It ran in these words:—
My dear B.,—His Majesty has just sent for me, and most
graciously esteeming me not yet too old to serve him, has
given me the command of a brigade,—late the Twelfth, now to
be called 'D'Auvergne's Cavalry.' I would willingly have
mentioned your name for promotion, to which your zeal and
activity would well entitle you; but deemed it better to
let your claim come before the Emperor's personal notice,
which an opportunity will, I trust, soon permit of its
doing. His Majesty, with a kindness which the devotion of a
life could not repay, has also interested himself personally
for me in a quarter where only his influence could have
proved successful. But the explanation of this I reserve for
your arrival. And now I request that you will lose no time
in repairing to Paris, where I shall expect to see you by
Tuesday.
Yours,
D'AUVERGNE, Lieut. 'General'
This strange paragraph puzzled me not a little; nor could I, by any exercise of ingenuity, find out even a plausible meaning for it. I read it over and over, weighing and canvassing every word, and torturing each syllable; but all to no purpose. Had the general been some youthful but unhappy lover, to forward whose suit the Emperor had lent his influence, then had I understood the allusion; but with the old weather-beaten officer, whose hairs were blanched with years and service, the very thought of such a thing was too absurd. Yet what could be the royal favor so lavishly praised? He needed no intercession with the Empress; at least, I remembered well how marked the kindness of Josephine was towards him in former times. But to what use guessing? Thoughts, by long revolving, often become only the more entangled, and we lose sight of the real difficulty in canvassing our own impressions concerning it. And so from this text did I spin away a hundred fancies that occupied me the whole road to Paris, nor left me till the din and movement of the great capital banished all other reflections.
Arrangement had been made for my reception at the Rue de Rohan; but I learned that the general was at Versailles with the Court, and only came up to Paris once or twice each week. His direction to me was, to wait for his arrival, and not to leave the city on any account.
With what a strange feeling did I survey the Palace of the Tuileries,—the scene of my first moment of delighted admiration of her I now loved, and, alas! of my first step in the long catalogue of my misfortunes! I lingered about the gardens with a fascination I could not account for; my destiny seemed somehow linked with the spot, and I could not reason myself out of the notion but that there, in that great pile, the fate of my whole life was to be decided.
My entire day was passed in this way; and evening found me seated on one of the benches near the windows of the pavilion, where I watched the lustres in the long gallery as one by one they burst into light, and saw the gilt candelabras twinkling as each taper was illuminated. It was an evening reception of the Emperor, and I could mark the vast assemblage, in every variety of uniform, that filled the salons. At length the drums beat for strangers to leave the gardens; the patrols passed on; and gradually the crowded walks became thinner and thinner; the sounds of the drum grew fainter; and finally the whole space became still and noiseless,—not a voice was to be heard, not a step moved on the gravel. I knew that the gates were now locked; and yet I stayed on, glad to be alone, and at leisure to dream away among the fancies that kept ever rising to my mind, and to follow out the trains of thought that ever and anon opened before me.
As the hour grew later, and the salons filled more and more, the windows were opened along the terrace to give air, and I could hear the continued murmur of hundreds of voices conversing, while at times the sound of laughter rose above the rest. What a rush of thoughts came on me as I sat! how did I picture to myself the dark intrigues, the subtle plots of wily diplomatists, the bold and daring aspirations of the brave soldiers, the high hopes and the ambitious yearnings that were all commingled there, grouped around him whose dreams were of universal empire! While I mused, the night glided on, and the solemn sound of the bell of Notre Dame proclaimed midnight. I now could mark that the salons were thinning, and the unceasing din of carriages in the Place announced the departure of the guests. In little more than half an hour the great gallery was empty, and but a few groups remained in the apartments adjoining. Even they soon departed; and then I could see the servants passing from room to room extinguishing the lights, and soon the great facade of the palace wac wrapped in darkness. A twinkling light appeared here and there for some time, but it too went out. The night was calm and still and sultry; not a leaf stirred; and the heavy tread of the sentinels as they paced the marble vestibule was heard plainly where I stood.