and the abuses of despotism.

The choice of such a minister was considered as a pledge to the
nation. The sovereign, who was not afraid to introduce this
illustrious citizen into the government of the state, could not but
entertain the generous design of securing the happiness of his
subjects, and respecting their rights.

The same day the Emperor gave the chief command of the gendarmerie to
the Duke of Rovigo.

The Duke of Rovigo, an old aide-de-camp of Napoleon, had sworn him an
eternal attachment, both from feeling and gratitude. This attachment,
born in a camp, had retained the character of military obedience: a
word, a gesture, was sufficient to call it into action. But however
great its strength, or, if you will, its fanaticism, it never affected
the rectitude and frankness, which were the base and ornament of the
duke's character.

From no other person, except the Duke of Vicenza, did the Emperor hear
more bold and useful truths. Twenty times did he venture to say to
him, as his ministerial correspondence testifies, that France and
Europe were tired of shedding blood; and that, if he did not renounce
his system of war, he would be abandoned by the French, and
precipitated from the throne by foreigners.

The command of the gendarmerie was taken from Marshal Moncey, not from
disgust or dissatisfaction, but because the marshal showed little
eagerness to retain it. On this occasion he wrote to the Emperor a
letter full of fine sentiments, in which he requested him, to continue
to his son the kindness he had formerly conferred on himself: it was
difficult to reconcile the gratitude he owed Napoleon with the
fidelity he had promised the King: in this he was so happy as to
succeed.

All the marshals were not so fortunate.

M. de Montalivet, formerly minister of the home department, became
intendant of the civil list, an office that suited him better. In
administration, as in many other things, endeavours to do better
prevent people from doing so well; and M. de Montalivet, from a desire
to neglect no minute particular, and seeking to carry every thing to
perfection, lost in empty trifles that time, which he might have
employed in promoting the general good on a large scale.

The strangest metamorphosis was that of the Duke de Cadore: he was
made a surveyor of buildings.

"Soyez plutot macon, si c'est votre metier."[72]

[Footnote 72:

"Make him, nor think his gen