“Like woman, the French are rather impatient and exacting; it is true that the Emperor has spoilt us in the campaign; indeed, no lover was ever more anxious to gratify the wishes of his mistress than His Majesty to meet our desires.  You demand a prompt march?  Very well, the army that was at Boulogne will find itself, three weeks later, in Germany.  You ask for the capture of a town?  Here is the surrender of Ulm.  You are not satisfied!!  You are craving for more victories?  Here they are:  Here is Vienna which you wanted, and also a pitched battle, in order that no kind of success may be wanting.  Add to these a whole series of noble and generous deeds, of words full of grandeur and kindness, and always to the purpose, so much so that our hearts share also that glory, and can join it to all the national pride it arouses in us."[28]

“I used to cry bitterly at that time, for I felt so affected that, had I met the Emperor at the moment, I should, I believe, have thrown my arms round his neck, although I should, afterwards, have been compelled to fall on my knees and ask pardon for my conduct."[29]

So overcome with boundless admiration is she that her soul yearns for the gift of being able to do him full justice by writing a history, a panegyric, a book, in fact, that would show him to be immeasurably above all men living or dead.  She fears that people cannot see his nobility and greatness as she does.  She is bewildered and acclaims him a god.  Here is another outburst of passionate devotion:—­

“That undaunted courage, carried even to rashness, and which was always crowned with success, that calm assurance in the midst of danger, with that wise foresight and that prompt resolution, arouse always new feelings of admiration which it seems can never be surpassed."[30]

It will be seen her letters shape well for the fulfilment of the great ambition of her life, i.e., to picture him as he was.  The writing is good, the description picturesque, and I believe the impartial mind will also regard it as accurate.  She believes “that even persons who are hardest to please must be compelled to admit that he is a most amiable sovereign.”  She is smitten with the feeling of gratitude, and says it is so sweet that she really regards it as another favour.  She wishes her husband could “often secure some of those comforting smiles from the master,” and tells him he is “no fool to be fond of those smiles,” and promises to congratulate him if he secures some.

She asks God to watch over him (such will always be her prayer) when he is fighting and conquering.  Her heart is grieved when he is at a great distance from them.  She eulogises his great qualities to her son, and advises him “to study all that she was able to tell him of the Emperor, and write about it when he grew up,” and the boy exclaimed, “Mother, what you have told me sounds like one of Plutarch’s lives!”