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 old rÉgime. 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 the ci-devant noble 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 glittering salon of 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 word consented, 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 solemn Te Deum was 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.