Cologne, August 31.—We have left Aix-la-Chapelle, and the day before yesterday we arrived at Cologne, a city which has a very gloomy appearance. As we were entering some one called my attention to its three hundred and sixty-five steeples, which shows what an enormous number of convents and churches were here before the French took possession. I hope we shall stay here only a few days. One thing that I had already remarked at Aix-la Chapelle, but more particularly here, is the errors every one entertains on the subject of Napoleon. It is a common notion that he seldom sleeps, and that he works incessantly; but I see that if he rises early to put the regiments through their manœuvres, he takes good care to go to bed much earlier in the evening. Yesterday, for example, he was on horseback by five o'clock in the morning; in the evening he retired to his apartment before nine; and Josephine told us that it was to go to bed. They pretend also that he makes an immoderate use of coffee, to shake off sleep; he takes a cup after his breakfast, and as much at dinner. But this is the way with the public: if a man, placed in fortunate circumstances, performs great things, we lay it all to the account of his genius. We are unwilling to owe anything to the power of chance that admission is repugnant to human self-love. Our imagination creates a phantom, and surrounds it with a brilliant aureole; 2 but if we are permitted to see it at closer quarters, all this prestige with which we adorned it when at a distance disappears; once more we find the man with all his weaknesses, all his littleness, and we wax indignant at the worship we have rendered him.

Cologne, September 1.—This morning I was chatting with Josephine while her hair was being dressed. The Emperor came in, and upset the whole jewel-case to make her try on different ornaments. It was good to see Madame Saint-Hilaire, the first femme de chambre, who has charge of the jewels, at the instant when Bonaparte was disarranging them. She was formerly femme de chambre to Madame Adelaide, and would like to establish the same etiquette in the department of the toilet to which she was accustomed in the old court; but that is not easy. A sufficiently large number of femmes de chambre have been appointed, who were each to be on duty three months at a time. Josephine, who is arriving at that age when one has need of all the art and all the mysteries of the toilet, was much annoyed at having all these spectators; she begged to retain only her former women; and, with the exception of Madame Saint-Hilaire, all those who had been appointed were converted into dames d'annonce. Their only function is to announce the Emperor when he comes to see the Empress; consequently they are in the interior of the apartments.

This mania for meddling with the toilet of women is very extraordinary in a man entrusted (I mean to say all but) with the destinies of the world. It is so well known that Herbaut, Josephine's valet de chambre, remarked to me the first time that he dressed my hair, that I placed my diadem at one side, and that the Emperor wished to have them all worn absolutely straight. I laughed at his observation, and assured him that I dressed to please myself, and consulted no taste but my own. He was very much astonished, and assured me that all these ladies were careful to conform to that of Napoleon. He occupies himself with these details to such a degree that on one day of great ceremony, Josephine having put on a dress of pink and silver which he did not like, he threw his inkstand at her with violence, to force her to change it. Here we do nothing else: at ten in the morning we dress for breakfast; at noon we make another toilet to go to the presentations; often these are renewed at different hours, and the dress must always be adapted to the sort of persons who are presented: so that it sometimes happens that we change our toilet three times in the course of the morning, making a fourth for dinner, and a fifth for a ball. This continual occupation is a perfect torment to me.

Cologne, September 2.—The Emperor has a very pronounced antipathy for what are called sensible women; he limits our destination to ornamenting a salon. So much so that I think he finds no great difference between a fine vase of flowers and a pretty woman. When he busies himself about their toilet, it is on account of the luxury he wishes to establish in all his furniture; he finds fault with or approves a dress just as he would do with the covering of an armchair; a woman at his court is only one more piece of stage furniture in his salon. Josephine says banteringly that there are at least five or six days in the year on which women might have some influence over him, but that, these few days excepted, they count for nothing (or almost nothing) with him. This evening the conversation turned upon the Queen of Prussia; he cannot endure her, and he does not conceal it. Sovereigns are exactly like lovers; if they quarrel, they say horrible things about each other. They ought to remember when they are at war that they will end by making peace, and that in this case, although they restore the fortresses they have taken, they cannot efface the insulting things they have said. I believe that this method, so fashionable at present, of filling the journals with reciprocal invectives, arises in great part from the character of Napoleon and the newness of his dynasty; for, in reading history, I discover that there was formerly a tone of moderation between princes making war with each other which no longer exists at present.

Bonn, September 5.—We left Cologne this morning. For a long time I have not passed so agreeable an evening as to-day. The Empress has been entertained by M. de Belderbuch, who has a charming house. The garden, which was illuminated, extends to the bank of the Rhine, which is very wide at this place. Musicians had been placed in a boat on the stream. While they were setting off fireworks after supper, I slipped away alone to the bottom of the garden, as far as the shore. I needed to escape for a few moments from the constraint that weighs on me so heavily. The air was pure and calm; little by little people quitted the garden. Nothing was to be heard but sweet harmonious music; but presently even that ceased; the most profound silence was interrupted only by the sound of the waves breaking on the stones near which I was leaning. The moon, which was reflected in the stream, came to replace the lanterns which were going out in the garden, and to spread the harmony of its gentle radiance over the beautiful scene before my eyes. Absorbed in profound reflection, I did not perceive that the hours were gliding by, until some religious hymns which became audible in the extreme distance awakened my attention. I cannot well describe their effect upon me in that instant; they might have been taken for a concert of celestial spirits, these hymns which the winds were bringing me from the other bank of the Rhine. But the pleasure I found in listening to these sounds, aerial as it were, was interrupted. Some persons who, disturbed by my long absence, were looking for me in the garden, came up just at that moment; they told me that at this time of the year it is very common in Germany for the people of several villages to assemble for the purpose of visiting different saints venerated in the region, and that these pilgrims frequently march during the night to avoid the heat, sometimes singing hymns with that harmony almost natural to Germans. Thus were explained the religious hymns I had just listened to.

Coblentz, September 8.—Here we are lodged at the prefecture. The simplicity, I might almost say the poverty of the furniture, does great honor to the prefect, M. de Chaban. The Emperor expressed surprise at this destitution; the prefect replied: "This region is so poor, and there are so many unfortunates, that I should be ashamed to ask the city for an increase for the sake of luxuries. I have everything that is necessary." These necessaries are several old armchairs, an old bed, and some tables. This simplicity is admirable. He occupies himself with nothing but the care of the poor. One delights in meeting such a being, who unites much intelligence to so many virtues. The Emperor, who is always surrounded by artistic luxury, was inclined to be displeased on arriving at being lodged in this fashion; his dry and arid soul cannot appreciate all M. de Chaban's worth; 3 but yet he knows how well his paternal administration is adapted to make the French liked in this country.

Coblentz, September 9.—I think I shall have to accuse myself of a little duplicity to-day; because one can have no compromise with conscience; it is not deceived by expressions. The Emperor promised Josephine this morning that, if he did not restore to my husband the unsold property of which I desire the restitution, he would at any rate make it up to him by an appointment. After dinner, when the time came for coffee, the Empress was urging me to thank Napoleon. When he drew near us, asking what we were doing, "She is telling me," replied Josephine, "that she dares not thank you for what you promised me this morning for her." "Why not?" said the Emperor. "Do I frighten you?" "But, Sire," I returned, "it is not extraordinary that the idea of what Your Majesty has done should attach to your person, and consequently make it imposing." I was telling the truth: it is the death of the Duc d'Enghien, and that of so many other victims, which, for me, attaches to his person, and always shows him to me stained with their blood. And yet (see the perversity!), I was not sorry that he was deceived by my response, which he understood as a compliment which made him smile. Ah, I fear that example is beginning to corrupt me. It is high time for me to go back and cultivate my fields!

Coblentz, September 10.—It seems that Napoleon had last night a violent attack of the nervous malady or epilepsy to which he is subject. He had been very much indisposed for a long time before Josephine, who occupied the same room, dared to summon assistance; but finally, his suffering being prolonged, she determined to have a light. Roustan, who always lies outside the Emperor's door, was sleeping so profoundly that she could not waken him. The apartment of the prefect is so far removed from luxury that it does not even contain matters of mere convenience. There was no bell, the valets de chambre were far away, and Josephine, only half-dressed, was obliged to set ajar the door of the aide-de-camp on duty in order to get a light. General Rapp, somewhat astonished by this nocturnal visit, gave her one; and, after several hours of anguish, the attack was assuaged. Napoleon had forbidden Josephine to say a single word about his indisposition. Hence she imposed Secrecy on all to whom she recounted it this morning. But how can one expect that others will keep a secret that we cannot keep ourselves? And have we a right to impose on others a discretion in which we are lacking? The Emperor was pale enough this evening, depressed enough; but nobody ventured to ask him how he was. They knew they would incur disgrace by seeming to think that His Majesty could be subject to any human infirmity. 4

Coblentz, September 11.—I stayed for a moment in the salon of the aides-de-camp: Generals Cafarelli, Rapp, and Lauriston were there; they were talking of the extreme favor which M. de Caulaincourt enjoys. "We don't envy it," said these gentlemen; " we would not have bought it at the same price." This sentiment is doubtless common to many people; but, in the position of these gentlemen, I thought there was some merit in expressing it so frankly. 5

Coblentz, September 12.—The Prince of Nassau-Weilbourg has come here to pay his court. He has proposed to Josephine to send her two yachts in which to ascend the Rhine as far as Mayence; which she has accepted. We start to-morrow, and the Emperor will follow the new road which has been opened on the banks of the Rhine.

Bingen, September 13.—Our voyage has been very agreeable all day, and that nothing might be lacking to it, we can even join to it the description of a tempest which was very nearly fatal to us, and which delayed our arrival here until midnight. The banks of the Rhine, from Coblentz to Bingen, are very picturesque; the greater part of the way they bristle with rocks and very lofty mountains, on which may be seen a large number of old castles. It is astonishing that places which seem so wild could have been inhabited by human creatures. Our attention was called to a tower which rises in the middle of the Rhine. The Palatine princesses were formerly obliged to come and inhabit this tower when about to become mothers. I do not know what could have been the motive of this custom, for the tower seems uninhabitable. It is called the Castle of the Mouse (le château de la Souris) and, in fact, I think no other species of animal would make it their abode. As we were passing Rhinsels and Bacareuch, some of the inhabitants came in boats, accompanied by bands, to offer us fruits. On reaching Bingen, the Rhine contracts very greatly between the mountains, and rolls its floods with fearful rapidity, which they tell me is not always free from danger. The sky, which had been very clear and serene all day, became overcast by clouds at evening, and we were surprised by a frightful storm said some, a very fine one, according to others; for, in this world, nearly everything is called by a new name, depending on the impression of him who speaks of it. I shall say, then, that a very fine storm came to light up our navigation. Josephine and some other ladies, who were somewhat frightened, shut themselves up in the little cabin of the yacht, but I wanted to enjoy a spectacle which was new to me. The lightning flashes, which rapidly succeeded each other, allowed us to see the other yacht, containing the women and the suite of the Empress, which was following us. Its large white sails, shaken by a violent wind, stood out against the dark clouds which obscured the sky. The noise of the waves and of the thunder which made itself gently heard in the high mountains between which the Rhine is straitened at this spot, added a certain solemnity to the scene. Gradually the storm lulled and we arrived at Bingen at midnight.

Mayence, September 14.—The banks of the Rhine, from Bingen to Mayence, are much less picturesque than those we saw yesterday. The country is more open. We arrived at three o'clock. We were expected at eleven; but Josephine, fatigued the previous evening by the storm which had delayed her arrival at Bingen, was not well, and could not leave as soon as had been expected. Moreover, the relays of horses which had been placed on the banks of the Rhine to work up the yachts, having been badly managed, we could not arrive sooner.

This circumstance, which seemed indifferent enough, was not so to Bonaparte. As luck would have it, the courier who announced him arrived precisely at the instant when the Empress's two yachts were sighted. The entire population of Mayence had been on the wharf since eleven o'clock. Young girls dressed in white, and carrying baskets of flowers, were stationed on both sides of a little bridge which had been prepared for the disembarkation. General Lorges, commanding the division, the mayor, and the prefect were there to receive Josephine, when the courier who preceded the Emperor announced his arrival. General Lorges, followed merely by an aide-de-camp, went on horseback to receive him. On entering Mayence, Napoleon was disagreeably surprised to find all the houses closed, not a single person on his passage, not a solitary cry of Long live the Emperor! He seemed to be entering a tomb. It was simple enough that all the people who had gone to the wharf at eleven o'clock, should not have left it the very moment the yachts were perceived. The arrival of the Empress, who was to listen to a speech, presented a more agreeable sight than the carriage in which Napoleon was shut up. It is not astonishing, then, that they should have remained on the bank of the Rhine. It seems that the Emperor was keenly wounded by this preference. Josephine's carriages arrived in the court of the palace at the same time with his own. Napoleon, in passing in front of us, made a slight inclination of the head with an ill-humored air; but as that often happens, we paid little attention to it, and went to our respective apartments. This evening, the Emperor and Empress dining alone, we were waiting in Madame de La Rochefoucauld's apartment for the signal usually given at seven o'clock for us to go down into the salon; but seven, eight, nine o'clock struck, and no one came for us. We were joking about the long téte-à-téte of Their Majesties, when the summons came. On entering the salon, we were surprised to find no one there. In a short time, Bonaparte issued from Josephine's chamber; he crossed the salon, greeting us again with his little ill-humored nod, and retired to his apartment, which he did not leave again that evening.

The Empress remaining in her room, Madame de La Rochefoucauld entered it and found her weeping bitterly. Napoleon had made a frightful scene which had lasted until now. It was her fault that the horses had had difficulty in working up the Rhine; it was her fault that they started so late from Bingen; in his unjust anger I do not know but what he laid to her charge the storm which had incommoded him. According to him, she had arranged and prepared everything so as to arrive at the same hour as he did. He accused her of liking to manœuvre for suffrages; in a word, he had given her the most violent, the most unreasonable, the most unmerited scene that can be imagined. Ah! that old adage which says that there are no heroes for valets de chambre, is truer than people think. We do not see him so close by as his valet does, and yet what littleness we daily discover in him! 6

Mayence, September 16.—This morning the presentations of the princes of Baden and that of the elector archchancellor 7 were to take place. After the presentation, these princes were to ask permission of the Empress to name to her some of the officers of their household, and a nephew of the archchancellor.

While receiving Napoleon's instructions on the etiquette of this presentation, Josephine asked what was to be done about her son; because it was suitable that he should be presented to the princes. Bonaparte, who had not thought of this, and who is always vexed when he is taken unawares on any subject whatever, responded crossly that her son would not be presented; that he saw no necessity for it. Very kind, very easy, very feeble even in nearly all circumstances, Josephine is extremely courageous and firm in all that concerns her children. She represented to the Emperor that for both herself and him it would be incongruous that the son of the Empress should be made of no account; that she had never asked anything for herself; and she had the courage to add that she had not cried to be a princess; 8 but that as her son was to dine with her in company with the princes, he ought to be presented to thorn; also that under the old regime, if M. de Beauharnais (although not presented at the court of France) had travelled in Germany, he would have been admitted everywhere. These last words inflamed Napoleon's anger to an excessive degree. He said to her that she was always citing her impertinent old régime (that is the expression he used); and that, after all, her son could not dine with her that evening. 9

He went out after these words, leaving Josephine very little inclined to appear in the salon for the presentation. During the half hour she spent there, while awaiting the princes, she was constantly wiping her eyes, which were still swollen with tears when they appeared. While she was having this scene with the Emperor, M. de Talleyrand, who was entitled by his position to designate the great officers of the crown who were to go and meet the princes at the door of their carriages, and who never neglects a chance to vex Josephine, said to her son that he was appointed to receive the princes. Eugène, who has a perfect sense of decorum, and who thought it ridiculous that the son of the Empress should be mixed up with the cortege of the princes who were to be presented to her, replied with that dignified simplicity which characterizes him, that he would be there if it were demonstrated to him that he ought to be. He came to tell his mother of this little specimen of M. de Talleyrand's malevolence, and it was agreed between them that he should not accompany the princes, but should enter the salon a little before six o'clock, when Josephine would be there to present him. It all went off very well; Bonaparte did not enter the salon until after six, just as they were about sitting down to table; he did not inquire whether the presentation had taken place; his anger had cooled down.

When there are princes to dinner, the lady of honor must be there with one or two ladies of the palace. I was designated for to-day. The princes of Nassau-Weilbourg, d'Issembourg, and Nassau Usingen came to the drawing-room this evening, which was very brilliant.

Mayence, September 17.—Madame de La Rochefoucauld and I remarked a very extraordinary thing this evening, namely, the eager cordiality of M. de Caulaincourt toward the princes of Baden. 10 He thought it incumbent on him to do them the honors of the salon. When I knew that these princes were to be here, I was very curious to observe their first interview with him. I supposed that, not having seen them since he abducted the Duc d'Enghien from their dominions, and this abduction having had such fatal consequences, he would, by keeping himself at a distance, and not recalling by the sight of him the bitter affront he had offered them, silently prove by his countenance that when he executed this order he was far from foreseeing its horrible results. But I was very much deceived; he went up to them with a gaiety which seemed very natural. As soon as the princes arrived, he was at their side, he took absolute possession of them; it seemed as if the acquaintance he had made with them in so casual a manner ought to entitle him to their good will. This conduct confounds me. One must be devoid of tact, of the slightest sentiment of what is befitting, in order to act thus. The father, who is already old, timid, as people are at that age, always trembling lest he should see the almighty hand of the Emperor erase him from the list of sovereigns, displayed almost no external sign on beholding M. de Caulaincourt; the countenance of his grandson, 11 the hereditary prince, who has as yet no character, and, I believe, very little intelligence, was no better an indication of what was going on within; but with regard to Prince Louis, 12 I noticed that whenever M. de Caulaincourt approached them, he drew back behind his father and his nephew, and that as far as possible he avoided speaking with him; but this reserve detracted nothing from M. de Caulaincourt's ease. When I say ease, I mean relatively; for no one has less than he. He might be mistaken for a Prussian rather than a French officer; even his phrases have a German turn; for in speaking to the Emperor or the Empress, he never fails to say yes, or no, Your Majesty. It is extraordinary that M. de Caulaincourt, whose parents were at court, should not know its usages better. 13

September 18.—I think the Emperor greatly resembles the man who, bored by the arguments which a wise person adduced in proof of his opinion, exclaimed: "Hey! sir, I don't want people to prove things to me.'' He was greatly tempted to say as much this evening. The prince archchancellor, who is specially gifted with that analytical spirit which decomposes an idea to its utmost principle, discussed with him a metaphysical question of Kant; but the Emperor settled the question by saying that Kant was obscure, and that he did not like him; then he rudely left the prince, who came and sat down near me. For an observer, there was a very amusing combat going on between the determination of the prince courtier to admire everything in the Emperor and the little dissatisfaction at having been cut short in the midst of his discussion on his dear philosopher; for he is a great partisan of Kant. He remarked to me, as a general thesis, that people often disparage works of pure reasoning, solely on account of the trouble they must take to comprehend them; that people consider nothing well thought but what they can understand without trouble, but that it is with a profound idea as it is with water, the depth of which destroys its limpidity; that nothing is easier, with the help of intermediary ideas, than to elevate minds (even the most mediocre) to the loftiest conceptions; that nothing is required for this but to perfect analysis and to decompose a question; and that, if the foundation of it is true, it can always be reduced to a single point. I profited by his little annoyance with the Emperor (an annoyance he would not have owned to for all the world), and found great pleasure in chatting with him.

Mayence, September 19.—The Princess of Hesse-Darmstadt, her son the hereditary prince, and the young Princess Wilhelmine of Baden, whom he has just married, will arrive to-morrow. Josephine cannot conceal her lively curiosity to see this young woman. M. de Talleyrand used to speak of her to the Emperor as the prettiest person in Europe, when he was lately urging him to be divorced. This evening I heard Josephine asking her brother, the hereditary prince, a multitude of questions about his sister. One can see that, although reassured about the divorce, she would be annoyed if the sight of her could occasion the Emperor any regrets.

September 20.—At last we have seen this much vaunted princess! and never was there such a general surprise. One cannot imagine how any charm could be discovered in her. She is of, I will not say a height, but a length beyond measure. There is not the least proportion in her figure, which is much too thin, and utterly wanting in grace. Her eyes are small, her face long and without expression. Her skin is very white, with little color. It is possible that, in some years, when she is formed, she may be a good enough looking woman, but at present she is not at all attractive. I was charmed that Josephine should have had this little triumph, which she has so well enjoyed. Never, perhaps, has she displayed such grace as she put into this reception. As a general thing, one is so benevolent, so gracious, when one is happy. One could see that she was delighted to find the Princess so little agreeable, and so different from what Napoleon had been told. The princess-mother must have been charming; she has the most sprightly and agreeable countenance. She has much vivacity and wit. She entirely governs her little dominions and her husband. Her son, the hereditary prince, is very tall and handsome; but I think that when one has said that, one has said all.

September 21.—The Prince of Nassau-Weilbourg having left his yacht here at Josephine's orders for all the time that she remains, we made use of it this morning to go and breakfast on an island of the Rhine, near Mayence, where the elector's country seat, the Favorite, used to be. No trace of it remains; it has been demolished. This island, as well as the environs of Mayence, offers a very sad picture of the results of war. Not a tree is to be seen. When we arrived, we found the breakfast ready. While we were at table, the Emperor perceived a poor woman who, not daring to advance, was looking from a distance at this spectacle so new to her; he sent her word to come near. When she was close to the table, he had her asked in German (for she did not understand French) if she had ever dreamed that she was rich, and if so, what she had believed herself to possess. The poor woman found it difficult to understand this question, and still more so to answer it. At last, she said that she thought a person who had five hundred florins would be the richest person in the world. "Her dream is a little dear, " said the Emperor, "but no matter, it must be realized." At once these gentlemen took all the money they had with them, and this sum was counted out to her. The astonishment and joy of this woman was the most touching thing; her hands let fall the gold pieces which they could not contain; all eyes were moistened with tears of emotion on beholding the surprise and happiness of the poor creature. I was looking at the Emperor at this moment; I thought he must be so happy! No, his physiognomy expressed nothing, absolutely nothing . . . but a little ill-humor. "I have asked the same thing twice before," said he, "but their dreams were more moderate; this good woman is ambitious." At that moment he had no other sensation than that of regret that she had asked so much. How wretched this man is! Of what use is his immense power to him, if he cannot enjoy the happiness he might diffuse? . . . After breakfast we scattered around the island for a walk. The Empress, accompanied only by me and two other persons, met a young woman who was suckling her infant. Her situation was not fortunate. Josephine had nothing about her but five twenty-franc pieces; she gave these to the woman without display, without ostentation, and a tear of pity fell on the infant, which she had taken in her arms, and which was caressing her with its little hands, as if it felt the good she had just been doing to its mother, and wished to thank her. On our return to Mayence, the Emperor chatted a good deal, or rather, he talked, because he never chats. I shall never forget while I live the singular definition he gave us of happiness and unhappiness. "There is neither happiness nor unhappiness in the world," said he; "the only difference is that the life of a happy man is a picture with a silver background and some black stars, and the life of an unhappy man is a black background with some silver stars." If any one else comprehends this definition, I do not; and I have not the resource of applying the precept of the archchancellor, who claims that the most obscure metaphysical question (providing it rests upon a true idea) may always be understood by the aid of analysis. Here, I decompose, I analyze and I find . . . zero.

Mayence, September 22, 1804.—Yesterday, the two princesses of Hesse-Darmstadt, who were to leave Mayence to-day, were at dinner. In the evening they went to the theatre. These ladies had no shawls, and Josephine, fearing lest they should be cold, sent for two to lend them. This morning, on going away, the princess mother wrote a very witty, very amiable note to the Empress, to say that they would keep the shawls as a souvenir. The billet was very neatly worded, but I thought I saw that it did not console Josephine for the loss of her two shawls, which she thought the two most beautiful of all her white shawls. She would have liked it better if these women had chosen others.

Mayence, September 24.—Yesterday, on quitting the salon, Madame de La Rochefoucauld and I set off for Frankfort. 14

We hoped that this rapid excursion might remain unknown to the Emperor. We spent the morning in visiting the city and buying some English goods which Josephine had asked us to fetch her; for she was in our confidence. We left Frankfort at three in the afternoon, with the intention of arriving in Mayence at six. Having been designated for dinner yesterday, I did not expect to be so again to-day, and I thought I should have all the time needed to rest myself, dress, and appear in the salon at eight o'clock. As to Madame de La Rochefoucauld, her health is so poor that she counted on excusing herself this evening on the ground of being indisposed. But all this arrangement was brought to naught, at least so far as I was concerned. On arriving, I found a billet from the first chamberlain, which designated me for the dinner. It wanted ten minutes of six; at five minutes past six I was at table. I had tried to make up for the precipitation of my toilet by selecting a very beautiful dress. I was felicitating myself, while eating my soup, on having arrived soon enough not to betray the secret of our journey, when the Emperor, with a rather sarcastic smile, said to me that my dress was very fine, and asked whether I had brought it back from Frankfort. There was no way of denying our trip; it was necessary to laugh and make a joke of the affair, so that the Emperor should not be angry, and that is what I did. He asked if we had brought much English merchandise; but as nothing seems to have annoyed him to-day, he was only half displeased.

Mayence, September 25.—The city of Mayence gave a grand ball to the Empress to-day; but, being very much indisposed, it seemed impossible for her to attend it; she was in her bed at five o'clock, perspiring profusely with fever. Napoleon came into her room and told her she must get up and go to this ball. Josephine having explained to him that she was suffering, and the danger of throwing off her coverings, as she had an eruption on her skin, Bonaparte took her by the arm, pulled her out of bed, and forced her to dress. Madame de La Rochefoucauld, who witnessed this brutal action, told me of it with tears in her eyes; Josephine, with her touching sweetness and submission, dressed herself, and appeared at the ball for half an hour.

Mayence, September 26.—I suffered incredibly on hearing Napoleon call the princesses of Nassau, who were at the drawing-room, mesdemoiselles. However little attraction this court may have for me, it is none the less true that I form part of it at present; and, as a Frenchwoman, I feel humiliated that the sovereign in whose suite I find myself should be so little accustomed to the usages of courts. How can he be ignorant that princes, among themselves, give each other their respective titles, without thereby derogating from their authority? But Bonaparte would think he was compromising his own entirely if he did so. He never fails to say Mr. Elector to the prince archchancellor, and mademoiselle to all the princesses; I have seen more than one slightly ironical smile at it.

Mayence, September 27.—The Empress crossed the Rhine this morning, to pay a visit to the Prince and Princess of Nassau, at the château of Biberich, near Mayence. The troops of the Prince were under arms, all the officers of his little court in full dress. A very elegant breakfast was served in a hall from which the Rhine could be seen for a great distance, affording a magnificent view. It is a grand and superb habitation. On returning to Mayence, the troops of the Prince accompanied the Empress as far as the bank of the Rhine.

Mayence, September 28.—Napoleon said to-day, before forty persons, to Madame Lorges, whose husband commands the division: "Ah! Madame, what a horrible dress you have on! it is exactly like an old curtain. That's German taste, surely!" (Madame Lorges is German.) I do not know whether the dress is in German taste, but what I do know is that this compliment was not in French taste.

Mayence, September 29.—This evening, as I was chatting with two persons in a corner of the salon, I do not know how the conversation led me to mention that Emperor of China who asked Confucius how people talked about him and his government. "Nobody talks," the philosopher told him; "every one keeps silence." "That is what I want," replied the Emperor. Napoleon, who was not far from me, chatting with Prince d'Issembourg, turned round quickly. If I live a thousand years, I shall never forget the threatening glance he darted at me. I did not disturb myself about it; I continued my conversation, and added that this Emperor of China resembled a good many others, who are like the little owls, which scream when a light is brought to their nest. I do not know whether Napoleon seized the meaning of this last phrase, but he probably felt that he had made a mistake in seeming to make a personal application of this story about the Chinese Emperor; for his countenance resumed that immobility, that total lack of expression which he knows how to give himself at will.

Mayence, October 1, 1804.—We left Mayence yesterday, in order to return to Paris, where we shall be in a few days. The authorities of all the countries we pass through give themselves incredible pains to compose harangues; but, in truth, it is lost labor, for I notice that they are all alike. From that of the mayor of a petty German village to that of the president of the Senate, they might all be translated by that fable in which the fox says to the lion:

                        "You honor them, my lord,
                          Too much in crunching them."