he
language of the Buonapartiste every where, and at all seasons; and the
mass of the nation is wonderfully disposed to participate in the
sentiment. The empire was the Aeneid of the nation, and Napoleon the
only hero they now believe in. You may satisfy yourself of this easily.
Every cafe will give evidence of it, every society bears its testimony to
it, and even the most wretched Vaudeville, however, trivial the interest
--however meagre the story, and poor the diction, let the emperor but
have his "role"--let him be as laconic as possible, carry his hands
behind his back, wear the well-known low cocked-hat, and the "redingote
gris"--the success is certain--every sentence he utters is applauded, and
not a single allusion to the Pyramids, the sun of Austerlitz, l'honneur,
et al vieille garde, but is sure to bring down thunders of acclamation.
But I am forgetting myself, and perhaps my reader too; the conversation
of the old gen-d'arme accidentally led me into reflections like these,
and he was well calculated, in many ways, to call them forth. His
devoted attachment--his personal love of the emperor--of which he gave me
some touching instances, was admirably illustrated by an incident, which
I am inclined to tell, and hope it may amuse the reader as much as it did
myself on hearing it.

When Napoleon had taken possession of the papal dominions, as he
virtually did, and carried off the pope, Pius VI, to Paris, this old
soldier, then a musketeer in the garde, formed part of the company that
mounted guard over the holy father. During the earlier months of the
holy father's confinement he was at liberty to leave his apartments at
any hour he pleased, and cross the court-yard of the palace to the chapel
where he performed mass. At such moments the portion of the Imperial
Guard then on duty stood under arms, and received from the august hand of
the pope his benediction as he passed. But one morning a hasty express
arrived from the Tuilleries, and the officer on duty communicated his
instructions to his party, that the apostolic vicar was not to be
permitted to pass, as heretofore, to the chapel, and that a most rigid
superintendence was to be exercised over his movements. My poor
companion had his turn for duty on that ill-starred day; he had not been
long at his post when the sound of footsteps was heard approaching, and
he soon saw the procession which always attended the holy father to his
devotions, advancing towa