oted in these memoirs of
my life to slight and unimportant circumstances,--the small incidents
of a purely personal character,--I feel that I owe my readers an apology
for passing rapidly over events of real moment. My excuse, however,
is, the events were such as to render my share in them most humble and
insignificant. My figure was never a foreground one; and in the great
drama that Europe then played, my part was obscure indeed. It is true,
I was conversant with stirring themes. I had on many occasions
opportunities of meeting with the mighty intelligences that gave the
world its destiny for the time; but in no history will there ever be
a record of the humble name of Paul Gervois. Such I now found myself
called; and the passport delivered to me called me, in addition, "Agent
secret." It is true, I had another, which represented me as travelling
for a Dutch commercial house; but the former was the document which,
in my interviews with prefects and men in authority, I made use of, and
which at once obtained for me protection and respect.

It is well known that the rightful king of France in his exile made
a personal appeal by letters to Bonaparte to induce him to devote his
genius and influence to the cause of the monarchy. The example of Monk
was cited, and the boundless gratitude of royalty pledged on the issue.
The fact is history. Of this memorable note I was the bearer. Looking
back at the wondrous destiny of that great man, such an overture may
easily appear vain and absurd to a degree; but it was by no means so
destitute of all chance of success at the time in which it was made. Of
this I feel assured, and for the following reason: There was a frequent
interchange of letters between the persons attached to the exiled family
and leading members of the then French Government. This correspondence
was carried on by secret agents, who were suffered to pass freely
from capital to capital, and more than once intrusted with even verbal
communications. These agents were rigidly instructed to limit themselves
strictly to the duty assigned to them, and neither to use their
opportunities for personal objects, nor for the acquirement of
information on subjects foreign to their mission. They were narrowly
watched, and I believe myself that a secret espionage was maintained
expressly to observe them. The sudden disappearance of more than one
amongst them fully warrants the suspicion that indiscretion had paid its
greatest and