[85] Except in so far as concerns the incidents of his literary life, Chateaubriand's Memoirs give us hardly any details on the two years elapsing between 1812 and 1814. They were spent between the Vallée-aux-Loups and an apartment in the Rue de Rivoli which M. and Madame de Chateaubriand had hired from M. Alexandre de Laborde.—B.
[PART THE THIRD]
1814-1830
[BOOKS I AND II]
The last days of the Empire
Youth is a charming thing: it sets out at life's commencement crowned with flowers, as did the Athenian fleet going to conquer Sicily and the delightful plains of Enna. The prayer is offered aloud by the priest of Neptune, libations are made from goblets of gold, the crowd lining the coast unites its invocations to those of the pilot, the pæan is sung while the sail is unfurled to the rays and to the breath of dawn. Alcibiades[86], arrayed in purple and beautiful as Love, is noticeable on the triremes, proud of the seven chariots which he has launched on the Olympian race-course. But, scarce is the isle of Alcinous[87] passed, when the illusion vanishes: Alcibiades, banished, goes to grow old far away from his country and to die pierced with arrows on Timandra's bosom. The companions of his early hopes, enslaved at Syracuse, have nothing to alleviate the weight of their chains but a few verses of Euripides.
You have seen my youth quitting the shore: it had not the beauty of the pupil of Pericles[88], educated upon the knees of Aspasia[89] but it had the same morning hours—and longings and dreams, God knows! I have described those dreams to you: to-day, returning to land after many an exile, I have nothing more to tell you but truths sad as my age. If at times I still sound the chords of the lyre, these are the last harmonies of the poet seeking to cure himself of the wounds caused by the arrows of time, or to console himself for the slavery of years.