CHAPTER XIII
THE Emperor visited Cremona, Verona, Mantua, Bologna, Modena, Parma, and Piacenza, and then went to Genoa, where he was received with enthusiasm. He sent for Le Brun, the Arch-Treasurer, to whom he intrusted the task of superintending the new administration to be established in that city. At Genoa also he parted with his sister Elisa, who had accompanied him on his journey, and to whom he gave the little Republic of Lucca, adding to it the State of Piombino. At this period the French began once more to wear foreign decorations. Prussian, Bavarian, and Spanish orders were sent to the Emperor, to be distributed by him at his pleasure. He divided them among his great officers, some of his ministers, and a few of his marshals.
At Verona a fight between dogs and bulls was given, for the entertainment of the Emperor, in the ancient amphitheatre, which contained forty thousand spectators. Loud applause greeted his arrival, and he was really affected by this reception, rendered impressive by the place, and by the magnitude of the crowd. The fêtes at Genoa were very magnificent. Floating gardens were constructed on huge flat barges; these gardens led to a floating temple, which, approaching the land, received Bonaparte and his Court. Then the barges, which were all fastened together, were set in motion, and the Emperor found himself on a beautiful island in the middle of the harbor, whence he had a complete view of Genoa, and of the simultaneous displays of fireworks from various parts of the splendidly illuminated city.
M. de Talleyrand found amusement entirely to his taste during his stay at Genoa; for he was always pleased to detect an absurdity and to point it out to others. Cardinal Maury, who had retired to Rome since his emigration, had gained a great reputation there by the firmness of his attitude in our famous Constituent Assembly. Nevertheless, he was desirous of returning to France, and M. de Talleyrand wrote to him from Genoa, advising him to come at once and present himself to the Emperor. The Cardinal acted upon this, and, immediately assuming that obsequious attitude which he has ever since scrupulously retained, he entered Genoa, loudly proclaiming that he had come to see “the great man.”
He obtained an audience. “The great man” took his measure very quickly, and, while esteeming him at his proper value, resolved to make him give a complete contradiction to his past conduct. He gained him over easily by flattering him a little, and induced him to return to France, where we have since seen him play a somewhat ridiculous part. M. de Talleyrand, whose recollections of the Constituent Assembly were not effaced, took many opportunities of wreaking a petty revenge upon the Cardinal, by bringing out his silly sycophancy in the most skillful and cunning manner.
While the Emperor was thus traveling through Italy and consolidating his power, and everybody around him was getting tired of the continual full-dress parade at which he kept his Court; while the Empress, happy in the elevation of her son, and yet grieved by her separation from him, amused herself and distracted her mind by the perpetual fêtes given in her honor, and took pleasure in exhibiting her magnificent jewels and her elegant costumes, I was leading a quiet and pleasant life in the valley of Montmorency, at the house of Mme. d’Houdetot. I have already mentioned this amiable and accomplished woman. Her recollections enabled me to reconstruct in my imagination those days of which she loved to talk. It gave me great pleasure to hear her speak of the famous philosophers whom she had known, and whose ways and sayings she remembered so clearly. I was so full of the “Confessions” of Jean Jacques Rousseau that I was not a little surprised to find her somewhat cold in her appreciation of him; and I may say, in passing, that the opinion of Mme. d’Houdetot, who would, I should think, have regarded Rousseau with exceptional indulgence, contributed not a little to make me distrust his character, and believe that he was only great in point of talent.
During the absence of the Court, Paris was quiet and dull. The Imperial family were living in the country. I sometimes saw Mme. Louis Bonaparte at Saint Leu, a place which her husband had just bought. Louis appeared to occupy himself exclusively with his garden. His wife was lonely, ill, and always afraid of letting some word at which he might be offended escape her. She had not ventured either to rejoice at the elevation of Prince Eugène or to weep for his absence, which was, of course, indefinite. She wrote to him seldom and briefly, because she knew that the privacy of her letters was not respected. On one occasion, when I was visiting her, she told me a rumor had arisen that the Duc de Polignac and his brother, who were imprisoned in the Château of Ham, had attempted to escape; that they had been transferred to the Temple; and that Mme. Bonaparte and myself were accused of being concerned in the affair. The accusation, of which Mme. Louis suspected Murat to be the author, was utterly unfounded. Mme. Bonaparte never gave a thought to the two prisoners, and I had entirely lost sight of the Duchesse de Polignac.
I lived in the strictest retirement, so that my solitude might supply a sufficient answer to any gossip concerning my conduct; but I was more and more distressed by the necessity for taking such precautions, and especially at being unable to use the position in which I was placed for any purposes of utility to the Emperor, to myself, or to those persons who wished to obtain certain favors from him through me. There was no want of kindness in my natural disposition; and, besides that, I felt a degree of pride, which I do not think was misplaced, in serving those who had formerly blamed me, and in silencing their criticisms of my conduct by favors which could not be said to lack generosity. I also believed that the Emperor might win many persons who now held aloof, by the permission which he had granted me to bring their solicitations and their necessities under his attention; and as I was still attached to him, although he inspired me with more fear than formerly, I would have gained all hearts for him had it been possible. But, as it became evident that my plan was not always approved by him, I found I had to think of defending myself, rather than assisting others.
My reflections were occasionally very sad. At other times I could make up my mind to the difficulties of my position, and resolve that I would only look at the agreeable side of it. I enjoyed a certain consideration in society, and I liked that; and we were fairly prosperous, though not free from the difficulties which always beset persons whose fortunes have no secure basis, and whose expenses are obligatory. But I was young, and I thought little of the future. I was surrounded by pleasant society; my mother was perfection to me, my husband most kind and good, my eldest son all I could wish. I lived on the pleasantest terms with my kind and charming sister. All this turned away my thoughts from the Court, and enabled me to bear the drawbacks of my position patiently. My health was a perpetual trial to me; it was always delicate, and an unquiet life was evidently injurious. I must not, however, dwell upon myself; I do not know how I have been tempted into doing so. If ever this narrative should be read by others, as well as by my son, all this ought to be suppressed without hesitation.
During the Emperor’s sojourn in Italy, two plays had a great success at the Comédie Française. The first was “Le Tartufe des Mœurs,” translated, or rather adapted, from Sheridan’s “School for Scandal,” by M. Chéron; the second was “Les Templiers.” M. Chéron had been a deputy to the Legislative Assembly. He married a niece of the Abbé Morellet; his wife and himself were intimate friends of mine. The Abbé had written to the Emperor to solicit a place for M. Chéron; and, on Bonaparte’s return, “Le Tartufe des Mœurs” was acted before him. He was so much amused by the play that, having ascertained the name of its author from M. de Rémusat, and also learned that M. Chéron was well deserving of employment, he, in a moment of easy good nature, sent him to Poitiers as Prefect. Unfortunately, he died there three years afterward. His widow is a most estimable and talented person.
M. de Fontanes had read “Les Templiers” to Bonaparte, who approved of some portions of the piece, but objected to others. He wished to have certain corrections made, but the author refused, and the Emperor was annoyed. He was by no means pleased that “Les Templiers” had a brilliant success, and set himself against both the play and the author, with a petty despotism which was characteristic of him when either persons or things incurred his displeasure. All this happened when he came back.
Bonaparte expected that his wishes and his opinions should be accepted as rules. He had taken a fancy to the music of “Les Bardes,” an opera by Lesueur, and he was almost angry that the Parisian public did not think as highly of it as he did.
The Emperor came direct from Genoa to Paris. This was to be his last sight of fair Italy, that land in which he seemed to have exhausted every mode of impressing the minds of men, as a general, as a pacificator, and as a sovereign. He returned by Mont Cenis, and gave orders for great works which, like those of the Simplon Pass, should facilitate the communications between the two nations. The Court was increased in number by several Italian noblemen and ladies who were attached to it. The Emperor had already appointed some Belgians as additional chamberlains, and the obsequious forms in which he was addressed were now uttered in widely varying accents.
He arrrived at Fontainebleau on the 11th of July, and went thence to reside at Saint Cloud. Shortly after, the “Moniteur” began to bristle with notes, announcing in almost threatening language the storm which was so soon to burst over Europe. Certain expressions which occurred from time to time in these notes revealed the author who had dictated them. One of these in particular made an impression on my memory. It had been stated in the English newspapers that a supposed genealogy of the Bonaparte family, which retraced its nobility to an ancient origin, had been printed in London. “Researches of this kind are purposeless,” said the note. “To all those who may ask from what period dates the house of Bonaparte, there is a ready answer: ‘It dates from the 18th Brumaire.’ ”
I met the Emperor after his return with mingled feelings. It was difficult not to be affected by his presence, but it was painful to me to feel that my emotion was tempered by the distrust with which he was beginning to inspire me. The Empress received me in a most friendly manner, and I avowed to her quite frankly the trouble that was on my mind. I expressed my surprise that no past proof of devotedness or disinterested service could avail with her husband against a sudden prejudice. She repeated my words to him, and he well understood what they meant; but he persisted in his own definition of what he called devotedness, which was an entire surrender of one’s being, of one’s sentiments and one’s opinions, and repeated that we ought to give up all our former habits, in order to have only one thought, that of his interest and his will. He promised, in recompense for this exaction, that we should be raised to a great height of rank and fortune, and have everything that could gratify our pride. “I will give them,” said he, speaking of us, “enough to enable them to laugh at those who find fault with them now; and, if they will break with my enemies, I will put their enemies under their feet.” Apart from this, I had but little annoyance in the household, and my position was easy enough, as Bonaparte’s mind was fixed on important affairs during his stay in France before the campaign of Austerlitz.
A circumstance recurs to my memory at this moment, which is only important because it serves to depict this strange man. I therefore give it a place here. The despotism of his will grew in proportion to the enlargement of the circle with which he surrounded himself; he wanted to be the sole arbiter of reputations, to make them and to unmake them at his pleasure. He branded a man or blighted a woman for a word, without any kind of hesitation; but he was much displeased that the public should venture to observe and to comment on the conduct of either the one or the other, if he had placed them within the rays of the aureole with which he surrounded himself.
During his journey in Italy, the idleness of life in palaces and its opportunities had given rise to several gallant adventures on his part, which were more or less serious, and these had been duly reported in France, where they fed the general appetite for gossip. One day, when several ladies of the Court—among them those who had been in Italy—were breakfasting with the Empress, Bonaparte came suddenly into the room and, leaning on the back of his wife’s chair, addressed to one and another of us a few words, at first insignificant enough. Then he began to question us about what we were all doing, and let us know, but only by hints, that some among us were considerably talked of by the public. The Empress, who knew her husband’s ways, and was aware that, when talking in this manner, he was apt to go very far, tried to interrupt him; but the Emperor, persisting in the conversation, presently gave it an exceedingly embarrassing turn. “Yes, ladies, you occupy the attention of the worthy inhabitants of the Faubourg St. Germain. They say, for instance, that you, Mme. ——, have aliaisonwith M. ——; that you, Mme. ——.” And so he went on, addressing himself to three or four ladies in succession. The effect upon us all of such an attack may easily be imagined. The Emperor was amused by the confusion into which he threw us. “But,” added he, “you need not suppose that I approve of talk of this kind. To attack my Court is to attack myself, and I do not choose that a word shall be said, either of me, or of my family, or of my Court.” While thus speaking, his countenance, which had previously been smiling, darkened, and his voice became extremely harsh. He then burst out violently against that section of Parisian society which was still rebellious, declaring that he would exile every woman who should say a word against any lady-in-waiting; and he proceeded to work himself into a violent passion upon this text, which he had entirely to himself, for not a single one of us attempted to make him an answer. The Empress at length rose from the table in order to terminate this unpleasant scene, and the general movement put an end to it. The Emperor left the room as suddenly as he had come in. One of our ladies, a sworn admirer of everything that Bonaparte said and did, began to expatiate upon the kindness of such a master, who desired that our reputation should be held a sacred thing. But Mme. de ——, a very clever woman, answered her impatiently, “Yes, madame, let the Emperor only defend us once again in that fashion, and we are lost.”
Bonaparte was greatly surprised when the Empress represented to him the absurdity of this scene, and he always insisted that we ought to have been grateful for the readiness with which he took offense when we were attacked.
During his stay at Saint Cloud he worked incessantly, and issued a great number of decrees relative to the administration of the new departments he had acquired in Italy. He also augmented his Council of State, to which he gave more influence from day to day, because he was quite sure of having it completely under his authority. He showed himself at the Opéra, and was well received by the Parisians, whom, however, he still thought cold in comparison with the people of the provinces. He led a busy and laborious life, sometimes allowing himself the recreation of hunting; but he walked out for one hour a day only, and received company on but one day in each week. On that day the Comédie Française came to Saint Cloud, and acted tragedies or comedies in a very pretty theatre which had been recently built. Then began the difficulties of M. de Rémusat in providing amusement for him whom Talleyrand called “the Unamusable.” In vain were the masterpieces of our theatricalrépertoireperformed; in vain did our best actors strive their very best to please him: he generally appeared at these representations preoccupied and weighed down by the gravity of his thoughts. He laid the blame of his own want of attention to the play on his First Chamberlain, on Corneille, on Racine, or on the actors. He liked Talma’s acting, or rather Talma himself—there had been some sort of acquaintance between them during his obscure youth; he gave him a great deal of money, and received him familiarly; but even Talma could not succeed in interesting him. Just like an invalid, who blames others for the state of his own health, he was angry with those who could enjoy the pleasures that passed him by; and he always thought that by scolding and worrying he should get something invented which would succeed in amusing him. The man who was intrusted with Bonaparte’s pleasures was very seriously to be pitied; unfortunately for us, M. de Rémusat was the man, and I can not describe what he had to bear.
At this time the Emperor was still flattering himself that he would be able to gain some naval triumphs over the English. The united French and Spanish fleets made several efforts, and an attempt was made to defend the colonies. Admiral Nelson, pursuing us everywhere, no doubt upset the greater part of our plans; but this was carefully concealed, and our newspapers taught us to believe that we were beating the English every day. It is likely that the project of the invasion was abandoned. The English Government was raising up formidable enemies for us upon the Continent. The Emperor of Russia, who was young and naturally inclined to independence, was perhaps already tempted to resent the preponderance that our Emperor desired to exercise, and some of his ministers were suspected of favoring the English policy, which aimed at making him our enemy. The peace with Austria held only by a thread. The King of Prussia alone seemed resolved to maintain his alliance with us. “Why,” said a note in the “Moniteur,” “while the Emperor of Russia exercises his influence upon the Porte, should he object to that of France being exercised upon certain portions of Italy? When with Herschel’s telescope he observes from the terrace of his palace that which passes between the Emperor of the French and a few Apennine populations, why should he exact that the Emperor of the French shall not see what is passing in the ancient empire of Solyman, and what is happening in Persia? It is the fashion to accuse France of ambition, and yet how great has been her past moderation,” etc., etc.
In the month of August the Emperor set out for Boulogne. It was no longer his purpose to inspect the flotillas, but he intended to review that numerous army encamped in the north, which before long he was destined to set in motion. During his absence the Empress made an excursion to the baths of Plombières. I think I shall usefully employ this interval of leisure by retracing my steps, in order to mention certain particulars concerning M. de Talleyrand which I have hitherto omitted.
Talleyrand, who had come back to France some time before, was appointed “Minister of External Relations” through the influence of Mme. de Staël, who induced Barras, the Director, to select him for that post. It was under the Directory that he made the acquaintance of Mme. Grand. Although she was no longer in her first youth, this lady, who was born in the East Indies, was still remarkable for her beauty. She wished to go to England, where her husband resided, and she applied to M. de Talleyrand for a passport. Her beauty and her visit produced, apparently, such an effect upon him that either the passport was not given, or it remained unused. Mme. Grand remained in Paris; shortly afterward she was observed to frequent the “Hotel of External Relations,” and after a while she took up her abode there. Meanwhile, Bonaparte was First Consul; his victories and his treaties brought the ambassadors of the first Powers in Europe and a crowd of other foreigners to Paris. Persons who were obliged by their position to frequent M. de Talleyrand’s society accepted the presence of Mme. Grand, who did the honors of his table and hissalonwith a good grace; but they were somewhat surprised at the weakness which had consented to put so prominently forward a woman who was indeed handsome, but so deficient in education and so faulty in temper that she was continually annoying Talleyrand by her foolish conduct, and disturbing him by her uncertain humor. M. de Talleyrand has a very good temper, and muchlaisser-allerin the events of every-day life. It is easy enough to rule him by frightening him, because he hates a disturbance, and Mme. Grand ruled him by her charms and her exactions. When, however, the ambassadresses were in question, difficulties arose, as some of them would not consent to be received at the Hotel of External Relations by Mme. Grand. She complained, and these protests on both sides came to the ears of the First Consul.
He immediately had a decisive interview on this subject with Talleyrand, and informed his minister that he must banish Mme. Grand from his house. No sooner had Mme. Grand been apprised of this decision, than she went to Mme. Bonaparte, whom she induced, by dint of tears and supplications, to procure for her an interview with Bonaparte. She was admitted to his presence, fell on her knees, and entreated him to revoke a decree which reduced her to despair. Bonaparte alowed himself to be moved by the tears and sobs of this fair personage, and, after having quieted her, he said: “I see only one way of managing this. Let Talleyrand marry you, and all will be arranged; but you must bear his name, or you can not appear in his house.” Mme. Grand was much pleased with this decision; the Consul repeated it to Talleyrand, and gave him twenty-four hours to make up his mind. It is said that Bonaparte took a malign pleasure in making Talleyrand marry, and was secretly delighted to have this opportunity of branding his character, and thus, according to his favorite system, getting a guarantee of his fidelity. It is very possible that he may have entertained such an idea; it is also certain that Mme. Bonaparte, over whom tears always exercised a great influence, used all her power with her husband to induce him to favor Mme. Grand’s petition.
Talleyrand went back to his hotel, gravely troubled by the prompt decision which was required of him. There he had to encounter tumultuous scenes. He was attacked by all the devices likely to exhaust his patience. He was pressed, pursued, urged against his inclination. Some remains of love, the power of habit, perhaps also the fear of irritating a woman whom it is impossible to suppose he had not admitted to his confidence, combined to influence him. He yielded, set out for the country, and found, in a village in the valley of Montmorency, acuréwho consented to perform the marriage ceremony. Two days afterward we were informed that Mme. Grand had become Mme. de Talleyrand, and the difficulty of the Corps Diplomatique was at an end. It appears that M. Grand, who lived in England, although little desirous of recovering a wife from whom he had long been parted, contrived to get himself largely paid for withholding the protest against this marriage with which he repeatedly menaced the newly wedded couple. M. de Talleyrand, wanting something to amuse him in his own house, brought over from London the daughter of one of his friends, who on her deathbed, had confided the child to him. This child was that little Charlotte who was, as we all know, brought up in his house, and who has been very erroneously believed to be his daughter. He attached himself strongly to his young ward, educated her carefully, and, having adopted her and bestowed his name upon her, married her in her seventeenth year to his cousin Baron de Talleyrand. The Talleyrands were at first justly annoyed by this marriage, but she ultimately succeeded in gaining their friendship.
Those persons who are acquainted with Talleyrand, who know to what a height he carries delicacy of taste, wit, and grace in conversation, and how much he needs repose, are astonished that he should have united himself with a person so uncongenial to him. It is, therefore, most likely that imperative circumstances compelled him to do so, and that Bonaparte’s command and the short time allowed him in which to come to a decision prevented a rupture, which in fact would have suited him much better. What a difference it would have made for Talleyrand if he had then dissolved this illicit union, and set himself to merit and effect a future reconciliation with the Church he had abandoned! Apart from desiring for him that that reconciliation had been made then in good faith, how much consideration would he have gained if afterward, when all things were reordered and replaced, he had resumed the Roman purple in the autumn of his days, and at least repaired in the eyes of the world the scandal of his life! As a cardinal, a noble, and a truly distinguished man, he would have had a right to respect and regard, and his course would not have been beset with embarrassment and hesitation.
In the situation in which he was placed by his marriage, he had to take constant precaution to escape, as far as possible, from the ridicule which was always suspended over him. No doubt he managed better than others might have done in such a position. Profound silence respecting his private troubles, an appearance of complete indifference to the foolish things which his wife was always saying and the blunders which she was always making, a haughty demeanor to those who ventured to smile at him or at her, extreme politeness, which was called benevolence, great social influence and political weight, a large fortune, unalterable patience under insult, and great dexterity in taking his revenge, were the weapons with which he met the general condemnation; and, notwithstanding his great faults, the public have never dared to despise him. Nevertheless, it is not to be supposed that he has not paid the private penalty of his imprudent conduct. Deprived of domestic happiness, almost at variance with his family, who could not associate with Mme. de Talleyrand, he was obliged to resort to an entirely factitious existence, in order to escape from the dreariness of his home, and perhaps from the bitterness of his secret thoughts. Public affairs occupied him, and such leisure as they left him he gave to play. He was always attended by a crowd of followers, and by giving his mornings to business, his evenings to society, and his nights to cards, he never exposed himself to a tiresometête-à-têtewith his wife, or to the dangers of solitude, which would have brought serious reflections. Bent on getting away from himself, he never sought sleep until he was quite sure that extreme fatigue would enable him to procure it.
The Emperor did not make up for the obligation which he had imposed on him by his conduct to Mme. de Talleyrand. He treated her coldly, even rudely; never admitted her to the distinctions of the rank to which she was raised, without making a difficulty about it; and did not disguise the repugnance with which she inspired him, even while Talleyrand still possessed his entire confidence. Talleyrand bore all this, never allowed the slightest complaint to escape him, and arranged so that his wife should appear but seldom at Court. She received all distinguished foreigners on certain days, and on certain other days the Government officials. She made no visits, none were exacted from her; in fact, she counted for nothing. Provided each person bowed to her on entering and leaving hissalon, Talleyrand asked no more. Let me say, in conclusion, that he always seemed to bear with perfectly resigned courage the fatal “tu l’as voulu” of Molière’s comedy.
In the course of these Memoirs I shall have to speak of M. de Talleyrand again, when I shall have reached the period of our intimacy with him.
I did not know Mme. Grand in the prime of her life and beauty, but I have heard it said that she was one of the most charming women of her time. She was tall, and her figure had all the suppleness and grace so common to women born in the East. Her complexion was dazzling, her eyes of the brightest blue, and her slightlyretroussénose gave her, singularly enough, a look of Talleyrand himself. Her fair golden hair was of proverbial beauty. I think she was about thirty-six when she married M. de Talleyrand. The elegance of her figure was already slightly injured by her becoming stout. This afterward increased, and by degrees her features lost their delicacy and her complexion became very red. The tone of her voice was disagreeable, her manners were abrupt; she was of an unamiable disposition, and so intolerably stupid that she never by any chance said the right thing. Talleyrand’s intimate friends were the objects of her particular dislike, and they cordially detested her. Her elevation gave her little happiness, and what she had to suffer never excited anybody’s interest.
While the Emperor was reviewing the whole of his army, Mme. Murat went to Boulogne to pay him a visit, and he desired that Mme. Louis Bonaparte, who had accompanied her husband to the baths of Saint Amand, should also attend him there, and bring her son. On several occasions he went through the ranks of his soldiers, carrying this child in his arms. The army was then remarkably fine, strictly disciplined, full of the best spirit, well provided, and impatient for war. This desire was destined to be satisfied before long.
Notwithstanding the reports in our newspapers, we were almost always stopped in everything that we attempted to do for the protection of our colonies. The proposed invasion appeared day by day more perilous. It became necessary to astonish Europe by a less doubtful novelty. “We are no longer,” said the notes of the “Moniteur,” addressed to the English Government, “those Frenchmen who were sold and betrayed by perfidious ministers, covetous mistresses, and indolent kings. You march toward an inevitable destiny.”
The two nations, English and French, each claimed the victory in the naval combat off Cape Finisterre, where no doubt our national bravery opposed a strong resistance to the science of the enemy, but which had no other result than to oblige our fleet to reënter the port. Shortly afterward our journals were full of complaints of the insults which the flag of Venice had sustained since it had become a dependency of Austria. We soon learned that the Austrian troops were moving; that an alliance between the Emperors of Austria and Russia was formed against us; and the English journals triumphantly announced a continental war. This year the birthday of Napoleon was celebrated with great pomp from one end of France to the other. He returned from Boulogne on the 3d of September, and at that time the Senate issued a decree by which the Gregorian calendar was to be resumed on the 1st of January, 1806. Thus disappeared, little by little, the last traces of the Republic, which had lasted, or appeared to last, for thirteen years.
CHAPTER XIV
AT the period of which I am writing, M. de Talleyrand was still on bad terms with M. Fouché, and, strange to say, I remember that the latter charged him with being deficient in conscientiousness and sincerity. He always remembered that on the occasion of the attempt of the 3d Nivôse (the infernal machine) Talleyrand had accused him to Bonaparte of neglect, and had contributed not a little to his dismissal. On his return to the Ministry he secretly nursed his resentment, and let slip no opportunity of gratifying it, by that bitter and cynical mockery which was the habitual tone of his conversation.
Talleyrand and Fouché were two very remarkable men, and both were exceedingly useful to Bonaparte. But it would be difficult to find less resemblance and fewer points of contact between any two persons placed in such close and continuous relations. The former had studiously preserved the carelessly resolute manner, if I may use that expression, of the nobles of the oldrégime. Acute, taciturn, measured in his speech, cold in his bearing, pleasing in conversation, deriving all his power from himself alone—for he held no party in his hand—his very faults, and even the stigma of his abandonment of his former sacred state of life, were sufficient guarantee to the Revolutionists, who knew him to be so adroit and so supple that they believed him to be always keeping the means of escaping them in reserve. Besides, he opened his mind to no one. He was quite impenetrable upon the affairs with which he was charged, and upon his own opinion of the master whom he served; and, as a final touch to this picture, he neglected nothing for his own comfort, was careful in his dress, used perfumes, and was a lover of good cheer and all the pleasures of the senses. He was never subservient to Bonaparte, but he knew how to make himself necessary to him, and never flattered him in public.
Fouché, on the contrary, was a genuine product of the Revolution. Careless of his appearance, he wore the gold lace and the ribbons which were the insignia of his dignities as if he disdained to arrange them. He could laugh at himself on occasion: he was active, animated, always restless; talkative, affecting a sort of frankness which was merely the last degree of deceit; boastful; disposed to seek the opinion of others upon his conduct by talking about it; and sought no justification except in his contempt of a certain class of morality, or his carelessness of a certain order of approbation. But he carefully maintained, to Bonaparte’s occasional disquiet, relations with a party whom the Emperor felt himself obliged to conciliate in his person. With all this, Fouché was not deficient in a sort of good fellowship; he had even some estimable qualities. He was a good husband to an ugly and stupid wife, and a very good, even a too-indulgent, father. He looked at revolution as a whole; he hated small schemes and constantly recurring suspicions, and it was because this was his way of thinking that his police did not suffice for the Emperor. Where Fouché recognized merit, he did it justice. It is not recorded of him that he was guilty of any personal revenge, nor did he show himself capable of persistent jealousy. It is even likely that, although he remained for several years an enemy of Talleyrand’s, it was less because he had reason to complain of him than because the Emperor took pains to keep up a division between two men whose friendship he thought dangerous to himself; and, indeed, it was when they were reconciled that he began to distrust them both, and to exclude them from affairs.
In 1805 Talleyrand stood much higher in favor than Fouché. The business in hand was to found a monarchy, to impose it upon Europe and upon France by skillful diplomacy and the pomp of a Court; and theci-devantnoble was much fitter to advise upon all these points. He had an immense reputation in Europe. He was known to hold conservative opinions, and that was all the morality demanded by the foreign sovereigns. The Emperor, in order to inspire confidence in his enterprise, needed to have his signature supported by that of his Minister for Foreign Affairs. So necessary to his projects did he consider this that he did not grudge the distinction. The agitation which reigned in Europe at the moment when the rupture with Austria and Russia took place called for very frequent consultations between the Emperor and M. de, Talleyrand; and, when Bonaparte left Paris to commence the campaign, the Minister established himself at Strasburg, so that he might be able to reach the Emperor when the French cannon should announce that the hour of negotiations had arrived.
About the middle of September rumors of an approaching departure were spread at Saint Cloud. M. de Rémusat received orders to repair to Strasburg, and there to prepare the Imperial lodgings; and the Empress declared so decidedly her intention of following her husband that it was settled she should go to Strasburg with him. A numerous Court was to accompany them. As my husband was going, I should have been very glad to accompany him, but I was becoming more and more of an invalid, and was not in a state to travel. I was therefore obliged to submit to this new separation, a more sorrowful one than the former. This was the first time since I had been at the Court that I had seen the Emperor setting out for the army. The dangers to which he was about to be exposed revived all my former attachment to him. I had not courage to reproach him with anything when I saw him depart on so serious a mission; and the thought that, of many persons who were going, there would no doubt be some whom I should never see again, brought tears to my eyes, and made my heart sink. In the glitteringsalonof Saint Cloud I saw wives and mothers in terror and anguish, who did not dare to let their grief be seen, so great was the fear of displeasing the Emperor. The officers affected carelessness, but that was the necessary bravado of their profession. At that time, however, there were a great many of them who, having attained a sufficient fortune, and being unable to foresee the almost gigantic height to which the continuity of war was afterward to raise them, were very sorry to relinquish the pleasant and quiet life which they had now led for some years.
Throughout France the law of the conscription was strictly carried out, and this caused some disturbance in the provinces. The fresh laurels which our army was about to acquire were regarded with indifference. But the soldiers and subalterns were full of hope and ardor, and rushed to the frontiers with eagerness, a presage of success.
On the 20th of September the following appeared in the “Moniteur:”
“The Emperor of Germany, without previous negotiation or explanation, and without any declaration of war, has invaded Bavaria. The Elector has retreated to Warzburg, where the whole Bavarian army is assembled.”
On the 23d the Emperor repaired to the Senate, and issued a decree calling out the reserves of the conscripts of five years’ standing. Berthier, the Minister of War, read a report on the impending war, and the Minister of the Interior demonstrated the necessity of employing the National Guard to protect the coasts.
The Emperor’s speech was simple and impressive; it was generally approved. Our causes of complaint against Austria were fully set forth in the “Moniteur.” There is little doubt that England, if not afraid, was at least weary of the stay of our troops on the coast, and that it was her policy to raise up enemies for us on the Continent, while the division of the kingdom of Italy, and still more its union with the French Empire, was sufficiently disquieting to the Austrian Cabinet. Without a knowledge of the diplomatic secrets of the period, which I do not possess, it is hard to understand why the Emperor of Russia broke with us. It is probable that commercial difficulties were making him anxious about his relations with England. It may be well to quote some words of Napoleon’s on this subject. “The Emperor Alexander,” he said, “is a young man; he longs for a taste of glory, and, like all children, he wants to go a different way from that which his father followed.” Neither can I explain the neutrality of the King of Prussia, which was so advantageous to us, and to himself so fatal, since it did but delay his overthrow for one year. It seems to me that Europe blundered. The Emperor’s character should have been better appreciated; and there should have been either a clear understanding that he must be always yielded to, or he should have been put down by general consent at the outset of his career.
But I must return to my narrative, from which I have digressed in order to treat of a subject beyond my powers.
I passed the last few days preceding the Emperor’s departure at Saint Cloud. The Emperor worked unremittingly; when over-fatigued, he would lie down for a few hours in the daytime, but would rise in the middle of the night and go on with his labors. He was, however, more serene and gracious than at other times; he received company as usual, went occasionally to the theatres, and did not forget, when he was at Strasburg, to send a present to Fleury, the actor, who, two days before his departure, had performed Corneille’s “Menteur,” by which he had succeeded in amusing the Emperor.
The Empress was as full of confidence as the wife of Bonaparte would naturally be. Happy to be allowed to accompany him and to escape from the talk of Paris, which alarmed her, from the spying of her brothers-in-law, and the monotony of Saint Cloud, delighted with the fresh opportunity for display, she looked on a campaign as on a journey, and maintained a composure which, as it could not by reason of her position proceed from indifference, was a genuine compliment to him whom she firmly believed fortune would not dare to forsake. Louis Bonaparte, who was in bad health, was to remain in Paris, and had received orders, as had also his wife, to entertain liberally in the absence of the Emperor. Joseph presided over the Administrative Council of the Senate. He resided at the Luxembourg, where he was also to hold a Court. Princess Borghese was recovering her health at Trianon. Mme. Murat withdrew to Neuilly, where she occupied herself in beautifying her charming dwelling; Murat accompanied the Emperor to headquarters. M. de Talleyrand was to remain at Strasburg until further orders. M. Maret attended the Emperor; he was the author-in-chief of the bulletins.
On the 24th the Emperor set out, and he reached Strasburg without stopping on the way.
I returned in low spirits to Paris, where I rejoined my children, my mother, and my sister. I found the latter much distressed by her separation from M. de Nansouty, who was in command of a division of cavalry.
Immediately on the departure of the Emperor, rumors became rife in Paris of an intended invasion of the coast, and, in fact, such an expedition might have been attempted; but, fortunately, our enemies were not quite so audacious and enterprising as ourselves, and at that time the English had not such confidence in their army as since then it has justly inspired.
The tightening of the money-market began almost immediately to be felt: in a short time payment at the Bank was suspended; money fetched a very high price. I heard it said that our export trade did not suffice for our wants; that war had stopped it, and was raising the price of all our imports. This, I was told, was the cause of the sudden embarrassment which had come upon us.
Special and personal anxieties were added to the general depression. Many families of distinction had sons in the army, and trembled for their fate. In what suspense did not parents await the arrival of bulletins which might suddenly apprise them of the loss of those most dear to them! What agonies did not Bonaparte inflict on women, on mothers, during many years! He has sometimes expressed astonishment at the hatred he at last inspired; but could he expect to be forgiven such agonized and prolonged suspense, so much weeping, so many sleepless nights, and days of agonizing dread? If he had but admitted the truth, he must have known there is not one natural feeling on which he had not trampled.
Before his departure, and in order to gratify the nobles, he created what was called the Guard of Honor. He gave the command to his Grand Master of Ceremonies. It was almost funny to see poor M. de Ségur’s zeal in forming his Guard, the eagerness displayed by certain great personages to obtain admittance into it, and the anxiety of some of the chamberlains, who imagined the Emperor would much admire the change of their red coats for a military uniform. I shall never forget the surprise, nay, the fright which M. de Luçay, Prefect of the Palace, a mild and timid person, gave me, when he asked me whether M. de Rémusat, the father of a family, a former magistrate, and at that time more than forty years of age, did not also intend to embrace the military career thus suddenly opened to everybody. We were beginning to be accustomed to so many strange things that, in spite of sense and reason, I felt some solicitude on this subject, and I wrote to my husband, who replied that he had not been seized with martial ardor, and that he hoped the Emperor might still reckon among his servants some who did not wear swords.
At this time the Emperor had partly restored us to favor. On his departure from Strasburg he confided the entire charge of the Court and the Empress’s household to my husband. These were sufficiently easy duties, with no greater drawback than a certain amount of tedium. M. de Talleyrand, who also remained behind at Strasburg, gave some zest to the daily routine of M. de Rémusat’s life. They now became really intimate, and were frequently together. M. de Rémusat, who was by nature simple, modest, and retiring, showed to advantage as he became better known, and M. de Talleyrand recognized his intellectual qualities, his excellent judgment, and his uprightness. He began to trust him, to appreciate the safety of intercourse with him, and to treat him as a friend; while my husband, who was gratified by receiving such overtures from a quarter whence he had not expected them, conceived for him from that moment an affection which no subsequent vicissitude has lessened.
Meanwhile the Emperor had left Strasburg. On the 1st of October he commenced the campaign, and the entire army, transported as if by magic from Boulogne, was crossing the frontier. The Elector of Bavaria, on being called upon by the Emperor of Austria to afford free passage to his troops, refused to do so, and was being invaded on every side; but Bonaparte marched to his aid without delay.
We then received the first bulletin from the Grand Army. It announced a first success at Donauwôrth, and gave us the proclamations of the Emperor, and that of the Viceroy of Italy. Masséna was ordered to reënforce the latter, and to push into the Tyrol with the united French and Italian armies. To phrases well calculated to inflame the zeal of our soldiers were added others of biting sarcasm against our enemy. A circular addressed to the inhabitants of Austria, asking for contributions of lint, was published, accompanied by the following note: “We hope the Emperor of Austria will not require any, as he has gone back to Vienna.”
Insults to the ministers were not spared, nor to some of the great Austrian nobles, among whom was the Count de Colloredo, who was accused of being governed by his wife, herself entirely devoted to English policy. These unworthy attacks occurred promiscuously in the bulletins, among really elevated sentiments, which, although put forth with Roman rather than with French eloquence, were very effective.
Bonaparte’s activity in this campaign was positively marvelous. From the beginning he foresaw the advantages that would accrue to him from the first blunders of the Austrians, and also his ultimate success. Toward the middle of October he wrote to his wife: “Rest easy; I promise you the shortest and most brilliant of campaigns.”
At Wertingen our cavalry obtained some advantage over the enemy, and M. de Nansouty distinguished himself. A brilliant skirmish also took place at Güntzburg, and the Austrians were soon retreating from every point.
The army became more and more enthusiastic, and seemed to take no heed of the approach of winter. Just before going into action, the Emperor harangued his soldiers on the Lech bridge, in the midst of thickly falling snow. “But,” continued the bulletin, “his words were of fire, and the soldiers forgot their privations.” The bulletin ended with these prophetic words: “The destinies of the campaign are fixed.”
The taking of Ulm and the capitulation of its immense garrison completed the surprise and terror of Austria, and served to silence the factious spirit in Paris, which had been with difficulty repressed by the police. It is hard to prevent Frenchmen from ranging themselves on the side of glory, and we began to share in that which our army was gaining. But the monetary difficulty was still painfully felt; trade suffered, the theatres were empty, an increase of poverty was perceptible, and the only hope that sustained is was that a campaign so briliant must be followed by an immediate peace.
After the capitulation of Ulm, the Emperor himself dictated the following phrase in the bulletin: “The panegyric of the army may be pronounced in two words: It is worthy of its leader.” He wrote to the Senate, sending the colors taken from the enemy, and announcing that the Elector had returned to his capital. Letters from him to the bishops, requesting them to offer thanksgiving for our victories, were also published.
From the very beginning of the campaign pastoral letters had been read in every metropolitan church, justifying the war, and encouraging the new recruits to march promptly whithersoever they should be called. The bishops now began the task once more, and exhausted the Scriptures for texts to prove that the Emperor was protected by the God of armies.
Joseph Bonaparte was the bearer of his brother’s letter to the Senate. That body decreed that, in reply, an address of congratulation should be carried to headquarters by a certain number of its members.
At Strasburg the Empress received a number of German princes, who came to join her Court, and to offer her their homage and congratulations. With a natural pride she showed them the Emperor’s letters, in which long beforehand he announced to her the victories he was about to gain; and either his skillful foresight must needs be admired, or else the power of a destiny which never for a moment belied itself mist be recognized.
Marshal Ney distinguished himself at Elchingen, and the Emperor consented so fully to leave the honors of the occasion to him that afterward, when he created dukes, he desired that the Marshal’s title should be Duke of Elchingen.
I use the wordconsented, because it is admitted that Bonaparte was not always perfectly just in apportioning the fame which he accorded to his generals. In one of his occasional fits of frankness, I heard him say that he liked to bestow glory only on those who knew not how to sustain it. According to his policy with respect to the military chiefs under his orders, or the degree of confidence which he placed in them, he would either preserve silence concerning certain victories of theirs, or change the blunder of a particular marshal into a success. A general would hear through some bulletin of an action which had never taken place, or of a speech which he had never made. Another would find himself famous in the newspapers, and would wonder how he had deserved to be thus distinguished. Others would endeavor to protest against his neglect of them, or against distorted accounts of events. But how was it possible to correct what had once been read, and was already effaced by more recent news? For Bonaparte’s rapidity in war gave us daily something fresh to learn. On these occasions he would either impose silence on the protest, or, if he wished to appease the offended officer, a sum of money, a prize from the enemy, or permission to levy a tax was granted to him, and thus the affair would end.
This crafty spirit, which was inherent in Bonaparte’s character, and which he employed adroitly in dealing with his marshals and superior officers, may be justified, up to a certain point, by the difficulty he occasionally met with in managing so large a number of individuals of widely differing characters but similar aims. He was perfectly cognizant of the scope of their various talents; he knew in what manner each of them might be useful to him: while rewarding their services he was perpetually obliged to repress their pride and jealousy. He was forced to use every means in his power to secure his own success; above all, he could miss no opportunity of making them feel their entire dependence on himself, and that their renown as well as their fortune was in his hands alone. This point once reached, he might feel certain not to be importuned by them, and to be at liberty to reward their services at his own price. In general, however, the marshals have had no cause to complain that he did not rate them highly. The rewards obtained by them were frequently gigantic; and, the long continuance of war having raised their hopes to the highest pitch, we have seen them become dukes and princes without being astonished at the fact, and end by thinking that royalty alone could worthily crown their destiny. Enormous sums were divided among them, and every kind of exaction from the vanquished was permitted them; some of them made immense fortunes, and, if most of these disappeared with the Government under which they had been amassed, it was because they had been acquired so easily that their upstart possessors naturally spent them lavishly, feeling confident that the facilities for making such fortunes would never be exhausted.
In this first campaign of Napoleon’s reign, although the army was as yet subject to a discipline which was afterward considerably relaxed, the vanquished people found themselves a prey to the rapacity of the conqueror, and the obligation of receiving some field officer for a single night, or even for a few hours, cost many a great Austrian noble or prince the entire destruction and pillage of his home. The common soldiers were under discipline, and there was an outward appearance of order, but there was nothing to hinder a marshal from taking away with him, on his departure, any objects which had caught his fancy. After the close of the war, I have often heard the wife of Marshal X—— relate, with laughter, that her husband, knowing her taste for music, had sent her an immense collection of music-books, which he had found in some German prince’s house; and she would add, with equal ingenuousness, that he had dispatched so many packing-cases full of lusters and Vienna glass, which he had picked up in every direction, to their house in Paris, that she was quite at a loss to know where to put them.
While the Emperor knew so well how to hold the pretensions of his generals in check, he spared no pains to encourage and satisfy the rank and file. After the taking of Ulm, a decree was issued to the effect that the month of Vendémiaire, which was just closed, should in itself be reckoned as a campaign.
On the feast of All Saints a solemnTe Deumwas sung at Notre Dame, and Joseph gave several entertainments in honor of our victories.
Meanwhile Masséna was distinguishing himself by victories in Italy, and it soon became certain that the Emperor of Austria would have to pay dearly for this great campaign. The Russian army was hastening by forced marches to his aid, but had not yet joined the Austrians, who meanwhile were being defeated by our Emperor. It was said at the time that the Emperor Francis made a blunder by entering upon the war before the Emperor Alexander was in a position to help him.
During this campaign Bonaparte induced the King of Naples to remain neutral, and agreed to rid him of the French garrison which he had hitherto been obliged to maintain. Several decrees relating to the administration of France were promulgated from various headquarters, and the former Doge of Genoa was created a senator.
The Emperor liked to appear to be engaged in a number of different affairs at once, and to show that he could cast what he called “an eagle glance” in every direction at the same instant. For this reason, and also on account of his suspicious disposition, he wrote a letter to the Minister of Police, desiring him to keep a watchful eye on the Faubourg St. Germain, meaning those members of the French nobility who remained opposed to him, and stating that he had been informed of certain things that had been said against him in his absence, and would punish them on his return.
It was Fouché’s habit, on receiving such orders as these, to send for the persons, both men and women, who were more specially accused. Whether he really thought the Emperor’s displeasure was excited by mere trifles, and that, as he sometimes used to say, it was foolish to prevent French people from talking, or whether he desired to win golden opinions by his own moderation, after advising those persons for whom he had sent to be more cautious, he would conclude by admitting that the Emperor made too much ado about trivialities. Thus, by degrees, he acquired a reputation for justice and moderation, which did away with the first impressions of his character. The Emperor, who was informed of this conduct on his part, resented it, and was secretly on his guard against one so careful to conciliate all parties.
On the 12th of November our victorious army entered the gates of Vienna. The newspapers gave full details of the circumstances, and these accounts acquire additional interest from the fact that they were all dictated by Bonaparte, and that he frequently took upon himself to invent, as an afterthought, circumstances or anecdotes likely to strike the popular imagination.
“The Emperor,” says the bulletin, “has taken up his abode in the palace of Schönbrunn; he writes in a cabinet in which stands a statue of Maria Theresa. On observing this, he exclaimed: ‘Ah! if that great queen were still living, she would not allow herself to be led by such a woman as Mme. de Colloredo! Surrounded by her nobles, she would have ascertained the wishes of her people. She would never have allowed her provinces to be ravaged by the Muscovites,’ etc.”
Meanwhile some bad news came to temper Bonaparte’s success. Admiral Nelson had just beaten our fleet at Trafalgar. The French navy had fought with splendid bravery, but had been disastrously defeated. This produced a bad effect in Paris, and disgusted the Emperor for ever with naval enterprises. He became so deeply prejudiced against the French navy that from that time it was scarcely possible to induce him to take any interest in or pay any attention to the subject. Vainly did the sailors or soldiers who had distinguished themselves on that fatal day endeavor to obtain recognition or sympathy for the dangers they had encountered: they were practically forbidden even to revert to the disaster; and when, in after-years, they wanted to obtain any favor, they took care not to claim it on the score of the admirable courage to which only the English dispatches rendered justice.
Immediately on the Emperor’s return to Vienna, he sent for M. de Talleyrand, perceiving that the time for negotiations was at hand, and that the Emperor of Austria was about to treat for peace. It is probable that our Emperor had already decided on making the Elector of Bavaria a King, on enlarging his dominions, and also on the marriage of Prince Eugène.
M. de Rémusat was sent to Paris in order that he might convey the Imperial insignia and the crown diamonds to Vienna. I saw him but for an instant, and learned with fresh vexation that he was about to leave for a still more distant country. On his return to Strasburg he received orders to proceed at once to Vienna, and the Empress was directed to repair to Munich with the whole Court. Nothing could exceed the honors rendered to her in Germany. Princes and Electors crowded to welcome her, and the Elector of Bavaria, especially, neglected nothing to make her reception all that could be desired. She remained at Munich, waiting for her husband’s return.
M. de Rémusat, while on his journey, reflected sadly upon the condition of the countries through which he passed. The land still reeked of battle. Devastated villages, roads encumbered with corpses and ruins, brought before his eyes all the horrors of war. The distress of the vanquished added an element of danger to the discomfort of this journey so late in the season. Everything contributed painfully to impress the imagination of a man who was a friend to humanity, and who lamented the disasters which result from the passions of conquerors. My husband’s letters, full of painful reflections, grieved me deeply, and served to lessen the enthusiasm which had been beginning to revive as I read accounts of victories, in which the bright side only was shown to the public.
When M. de Rémusat reached Vienna, the Emperor was no longer there. The negotiations had lasted but a short time, and our army was marching forward. M. de Talleyrand and M. Maret remained at Schönbrunn, where they both lived, but without intimacy. M. Maret’s familiarity with the Emperor gave him a sort of influence, which he kept up, as I have already said, by adoration, true or feigned, and displayed in all his words and actions. M. de Talleyrand would make fun of this sometimes, and quiz the Secretary of State, who resented such conduct excessively. He was therefore always on his guard against M. de Talleyrand, and disliked him sincerely.
M. de Talleyrand, who was thoroughly weary of Vienna, greeted M. de Rémusat on his arrival with great cordiality, and the intimacy between them increased during the idle life both were leading. It is very likely that M. Maret, who wrote regularly to the Emperor, reported upon this new friendship, and that it was displeasing to a person always prone to take offense, and apt to detect ulterior motives in the most unimportant actions of life.
M. de Talleyrand, finding scarcely any one but M. de Rémusat who could understand him, disclosed to him the political views with which the victories of our armies inspired him. He warmly desired to consolidate the peace of Europe, and his great fear was that the glamour of victory and the predilections of the military men surrounding the Emperor, all of them having again become accustomed to war, would induce the latter to prolong it. “When the moment comes for actually concluding peace,” he said, “you will see that the greatest difficulty I shall have will be in treating with the Emperor himself, and it will take much talking to sober the intoxication produced by gunpowder.” In these moments of confidence M. de Talleyrand would speak candidly of the Emperor. While he admitted the great defects of his character, he believed him to be destined irrevocably to end the Revolution in France, and to found a lasting government; and he also believed that he himself should be able to rule the Emperor’s conduct with regard to Europe. “If I fail to persuade him,” he said, “I shall, at any rate, know how to fetter him in spite of himself, and to force him to take some repose.”
M. de Rémusat was delighted to find an able statesman, and one who enjoyed the confidence of the Emperor, full of projects so wise in themselves; and he began to regard him with the esteem that every French citizen owes to a man who endeavors to control the effects of a boundless ambition. He often wrote to me that he was delighted with the discoveries which his intimacy with M. de Talleyrand enabled him to make, and I began to feel interest in one who alleviated the wearisome exile of my husband.
In my hours of solitude and anxiety, my husband’s letters were my only pleasure and the sole charm of my existence. Although he prudently avoided details, I could see that he was satisfied with his position. Then he would describe to me the different sights he had seen. He would tell me of his drives or walks in Vienna, which he described as a large and beautiful city, and of his visits to certain important personages who had remained there, as well as to other families. He was struck by their extreme attachment to the Emperor Francis. These good people of Vienna, although their city was conquered, did not hesitate openly to express their hopes of a speedy return to the paternal rule of their master; and, while they sympathized with him in his reverses, they never uttered a single reproach.
Good order was maintained in Vienna; the garrison was under strict discipline, and the inhabitants had no great cause of complaint against their conquerors. The French entered into some of the amusements of the place; they frequented the theatres, and it was at Vienna that M. de Rémusat first heard the celebrated Italian singer Crescentini, and subsequently engaged him for the Emperor’s musical service.