Memoirs of the Private Life, Return, and Reign of Napoleon in 1815, Vol. I | Page 6

an equitable sovereign, and one who was determined not to allow the
guiding reins of the state to slip from his paternal hands into those of
his ministers. Our lively imagination gave us a present enjoyment of
the blessings, which, as we anticipated, would hereafter be diffused
over the kingdom by his goodness, his prudence, and his acquirements.
If this glowing vision of hope and loyalty was slightly dimmed by a
few secret doubts, such misgivings were checked and repelled by the
name of our native country; nay, by the name of the Emperor himself.
For when Napoleon bade farewell to his trusty soldiers, it was in these
words: "Be faithful to the new sovereign of France; do not rend asunder
our beloved and long-suffering land."
These circumstances (nor must the charm of novelty be excluded)
united in favour of the king, and won every head and every heart. He
appeared--he was received with acclamations of love and gladness,
which resounded until he entered the palace of his forefathers.
No counter revolution ever effected the change of a royal dynasty,
under such favourable auspices.
The French nation felt jaded by civil dissensions, by misfortune--even
their victories had weaned them. They longed for the happiness of
repose. Memorable were the words of the king's brother; "let us forget
the past, let us look only towards the future, let us all unite in the good

work of labouring to heal the wounds of our common country;" and
these honoured precepts had become implanted in every mind. They
formed the canon of all our feelings and all our duties.
As long as the machinery of the new government did not begin to work,
this loyal harmony subsisted, and no longer. For when it became
necessary to settle the organization of the army, the ministry, and the
magistracy, then self-love gained an easy victory over patriotism, and
the bad passions, pride, ambition, and party-hatred, roused themselves
from their slumber.
During a quarter of a century, our emigrants had sojourned in a strange
country. Useless and troublesome guests to the strangers by whom they
were fed, their lives had been droned away in shameless and cowardly
idleness. They could not cheat themselves into a belief that they
possessed the talents and experience of the sons of the revolution. But
they imagined that nobility, as in the old time, might pass for worth;
and that their patents and pedigrees still gave them a right to
monopolize all power and all honour.
The citizens, the soldiers, the nation, relied on the lawfulness of their
rights no less than on the promises of the king. The members of the old
privileged caste, instead of exciting suspicion, were only the objects of
harmless mirth. The people laughed at the grotesque appearance of
some, and at the decrepit sottishness of others. They never dreamed that
these pretended warriors, whose bloodless swords had rusted in their
scabbards, would attempt to snatch the staff of command from the
veteran generals of France; and that nobles who had grown old in sloth
and ignorance would aspire to the direction of public affairs.
But though merit and valour were denied to them, they stood upon a
vantage ground, which gave them a direful and incalculable
preponderance in the state. They surrounded the throne. Soon did their
insolence announce that they had craftily availed themselves of the
advantages which they possessed; and we foresaw with affliction that
inveterate prejudice, malignant prepossessions, and old habits of
familiarity, would, sooner or later, crush the principles of justice and
equity, however solemnly proclaimed.

The emigrants, rendered arrogant by the prospects which opened upon
them, now treated their rivals with contemptuous disdain. They dared
not insult the defenders of our country face to face, because the scars of
the warriors scared them. But they were spitefully active in disparaging
their birth, their services, and their glory, and these noble retainers of
royalty took care to impress the soldiers of Napoleon with a due sense
of the width of the gulf which was henceforth to separate a gentleman
of good family, from an upstart soldier of the revolution.
The women of the ancien régime did not share in the timidity which, to
a certain degree, still restrained their husbands. They threw off all
decency and all reserve, and indulged in all the fury of their spite and
pride. Without attempting to disguise their sentiments, they openly
insulted the titled dames belonging to the new nobility, and such of the
latter as were compelled to go to court on account of the situations held
by their husbands, never entered the saloon without dread, and never
quitted it without being bathed in tears.
Uneasy, harassed, and discontented, the people implored the fulfilment
of the king's promises: they prayed with confidence; but the
government heard