On this day my observations must necessarily have been superficial: yet I thought I could perceive, in the movement of a single feature, some strong-excited feeling, some sensation detached and wandering away from the ordinary modes of thinking, though I could not even guess from what passion or through what impulse that sensation originated. After I had seen him often, I collated the emotions palpable in his countenance with the vicissitudes of his past life, fancying that I might thence acquire some data to go upon in estimating the tone of his thoughts: but at this first sight, so diversified were the appearances as he leaned over the gallery, that even Lavater could not have deciphered his sensations. He was uneasy, making almost convulsive motions, and I perceived occasionally a quiver on his lip: on the whole, my anxiety was raised a hundredfold to be placed in some situation where I might translate at leisure the workings of his expressive countenance. That opportunity was after a short interval fully given me.
On the same day I had indeed a second occasion of observing the emperor, and in a much more interesting occupation—more to his taste, and which obviously changed the entire cast of his looks, quite divesting them of that deep, penetrating, gloomy character, which had saddened his countenance during the time he was at chapel. After mass he first came out upon the balcony in front of the Tuileries: his personal staff, marshals, generals, and a few ladies surrounded him; while the civil officers of the court, in the richest dresses, stood in small groups aside, as if wishing to have nothing to do with the military spectacle. Napoleon was now about to inspect eight or ten thousand of the army in the Place Carousel. The transition from an array of priests to a parade of warriors—from the hymns of the saints to the shouting of the soldiery—from the heavy, although solemn, music of the organ to the inspiriting notes of the drum—added greatly to the effect of the scene, which strongly impressed my mind, alive and open to all these novel incidents. Age had not then, nor has it yet, effaced the susceptibility of my nature. I own the latter scene was on that day to my mind vastly preferable to the first: the countenance of Napoleon was metamorphosed; it became illuminated; he descended from the balcony, and mounted a gray barb. He was now obviously in his element: the troops, as I have said, amounted to about ten thousand: I did not conceive the court of the Tuileries could hold so many.
Napoleon was now fully exposed to our view. His face acknowledged the effect of climate: his forehead, though high and thinly strewn with hair, did not convey to me any particular trait; his eyebrows, when at rest, were not expressive, neither did his eyes on that occasion speak as much as I should have expected; but the lower part of his face fixed my attention at once. It was about his mouth and chin that character seemed to be concentrated. I thought, on the whole, that I could perceive a mixture of steadiness and caprice, of passion and generosity, of control and impetuousness; but I could decide on nothing.
My attention, however, was soon turned to the inspection itself. There was not a soldier who did not appear nearly frantic with exultation, and whose very heart, I believe, did not beat in unison with the hurrahs wherewith they received their favourite leader.
It was the first time I had ever heard a crowd express its boisterous pleasure in a tone of sensibility unknown in our country. The troops were in earnest, and so was the general. The old guard (including such as had returned from Elba and such as had rejoined their colours) formed a body of men superior to any I ever before witnessed. Descriptions of Napoleon amidst his soldiers are however so common, that I will not occupy either the reader’s time or my own by enlarging further on the subject.
THE ENGLISH IN PARIS.
Doctor and Mrs. Marshall—Col. Macirone, aide-de-camp to Joachim Murat, while king of Naples—General Arthur O’Connor—Lord and Lady Kinnaird—His lordship under the surveillance of the police—Suspected of espionage, and arrested, but set at liberty immediately after—Messrs. Hobhouse and Bruce—Dr. Marshall’s correct information as to passing events—Real character of the coterie at his house—Madame la parente du ministre Fouché—Misconception of the minister’s Swiss porter—Henry Thevenot.
Shortly after this period I became particularly intimate with Dr. Marshall, a circumstance which, in the paucity of English who had remained in Paris, was productive to me of great satisfaction. He was a man of prepossessing appearance and address; had travelled much; had acted (he informed me) as physician to the army in Egypt, &c.; and had gone on some confidential missions to Murat while king of Naples. His wife was a pretty woman, rather en bon point, about thirty, and with the complete appearance and address of a gentlewoman. The doctor kept a very handsome establishment, and entertained small companies splendidly.
The society I met there consisted, generally, of Col. Macirone, who had been aide-de-camp to Murat, and has published an account of the romantic circumstances attendant on the death of that ill-fated man. Another member of the society was Count Julien, formerly, I believe, some secretary or civil officer of Murat, a boisterous, overbearing fat man, consequential without being dignified, dressy without being neat, and with a showy politeness that wanted the elements of civility. Count Julien was the only person I met at Doctor Marshall’s whose character or occupation I had much curiosity about.
Fouché was then the emperor’s minister of police, and they all appeared to be more or less acquainted with him: but I had not then the slightest idea that most of them were in some way employés of the police minister, and hollow friends, if not absolute enemies to Napoleon.