The scene was altogether most interesting; but there was no time for contemplation. The whole assembly immediately rose; and if a judgment might be formed from the outward expression of their feelings, it would be inferred that Napoleon was enthroned in the heart of almost every peer and deputy who that day received him. A loud, continued, and unanimous burst of enthusiastic congratulation proceeded from every quarter: it echoed throughout the whole chamber, and had all the attributes of sincerity. One circumstance I particularly remarked: the old cry of “_Vive_ l’Empereur,” was discontinued, and, as if the spectators’ hearts were too full to utter more, they limited themselves to a single word,—“_l’Empereur! l’Empereur!_” alone bursting from the whole assembly. I found afterwards that there was a meaning in this: inasmuch as the ceremony was not a mere greeting—it was an _inauguration_ of the emperor. It was this solemnity which in fact _recreated_ his title after his formal abdication, and the assembly thus noted the distinction.
Meanwhile Napoleon sat apparently unmoved: he occasionally touched his hat, but spake not. I stood immediately in front of, and looking down on, the throne; and being in the back row, could use my opera-glass without observation. Napoleon was at that moment, all circumstances considered, the most interesting personage in existence. His dress, although very rich, was scarcely royal: he was not, as a king should be by prescription, covered with jewels: he had no crown, and wore the same dress exactly as he afterward did on his visit to the Champ de Mars; namely, a black Spanish hat, fastened up in front with a diamond loop and button; heavy plumes of ostrich feathers, which hung nodding over his forehead; and rather a short but very full cloak of purple velvet, embroidered with golden bees. The dimensions of his person were thus concealed; but his stature, which had attained about the middle height, seemed lower on account of his square-built form and his high, ungraceful shoulders: he was, in fact, by no means a majestic figure. I watched his eye; it was that of a hawk, and struck me as being peculiarly brilliant. Without moving his head, or a single muscle of his countenance, his eye was every where, and seemed omniscient: an almost imperceptible transition moved it from place to place, as if by magic; and it was fixed steadily upon one object before a spectator could observe its withdrawal from another.