“I suspended writing to thank you for the Carmen Triumphale—(a happy
omen of what you can do to immortalize our public story)—until the feverish
mood of expectation and anxiety should be over. And then, as you truly say,
there followed a stunning sort of listless astonishment and complication of
feeling, which if it did not lessen enjoyment, confused and confounded
one’s sense of it. I remember the first time I happened to see a launch,
I was neither so much struck with the descent of the vessel, nor with its
majestic sweep to its moorings, as with the blank which was suddenly made from
the withdrawing so large an object, and the prospect which was at once opened
to the opposite side of the dock crowded with spectators. Buonaparte’s fall strikes me something in
the same way; the huge bulk of his power, against which a thousand arms were
hammering, was obviously to sink when its main props were struck away—and yet
now—when it has disappeared—the vacancy which it leaves in our minds and
attention, marks its huge and preponderating importance more strongly than even
its presence. Yet I so devoutly expected the termination, that in discussing
the matter with Major Philips, who seemed to partake of
the doubts which prevailed during the feverish period preceding the capture of
Paris, when he was expressing his apprehensions that the capital of France
would be defended to the last, I hazarded a prophecy that a battle would be
fought on the heights of Mont Martre—(no great saga-city, since it was the
point where Marlborough proposed to attack, and for which Saxe projected a
scheme of defence)—and that if the allies were successful, which I little
doubted, the city would surrender, and the
| LETTER TO SOUTHEY—JUNE, 1814. | 119 |
| 120 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“—The above was written at Abbotsford last month, but left in my portfolio there till my return some days ago; and now, when I look over what I have written, I am confirmed in my opinion that we have given the rascals too good an opportunity to boast that they have got well off. An intimate friend of mine,* just returned from a long captivity in France, witnessed the entry of the King, guarded by the Imperial Guards, whose countenances betokened the most sullen and ferocious discontent. The mob, and especially the women, pelted them for refusing to cry ‘Vive le Roi.’ If Louis is well advised, he will get rid of these fellows gradually, but as soon as possible. ‘Joy, joy in London now!’ What a scene has been going on there; I think you may see the Czar appear on the top of one of your stages one morning. He is a fine fellow, and has fought the good fight. Yours affectionately,
