ed of our new saints and fashionable
devotees. They would be laughable were they not scandalous, and
contemptible did they not add duplicity to our other vices.

Bonaparte and his wife go now every morning to hear Mass, and on every
Sunday or holiday they regularly attend at vespers, when, of course, all
those who wish to be distinguished for their piety or rewarded for their
flattery never neglect to be present. In the evening of last Christmas
Day, the Imperial chapel was, as usual, early crowded in expectation of
Their Majesties, when the chamberlain, Salmatoris, entered, and said to
the captain of the guard, loud enough to be heard by the audience, "The
Emperor and the Empress have just resolved not to come here to-night, His
Majesty being engaged by some unexpected business, and the Empress not
wishing to come without her consort." In ten minutes the chapel was
emptied of every person but the guards, the priests, and three old women
who had nowhere else to pass an hour. At the arrival of our Sovereigns,
they were astonished at the unusual vacancy, and indignantly regarded
each other. After vespers were over, one of Bonaparte's spies informed
him of the cause, when, instead of punishing the despicable and
hypocritical courtiers, or showing them any signs of his displeasure, he
ordered Salmatoris under arrest, who would have experienced a complete
disgrace had not his friend Duroc interfered and made his peace.

At another time, on a Sunday, Fouche entered the chapel in the midst of
the service, and whispered to Bonaparte, who immediately beckoned to his
lord-in-waiting and to Duroc. These both left the Imperial chapel, and
returning in a few minutes at the head of five grenadiers, entered the
grand gallery, generally frequented by the most scrupulous devotees, and
seized every book. The cause of this domiciliary visit was an anonymous
communication received by the Minister of Police, stating that libels
against the Imperial family, bound in the form of Prayer-books, had been
placed there. No such libels were, however, found; but of one hundred
and sixty pretended breviaries, twenty-eight were volumes of novels,
sixteen were poems, and eleven were indecent books. It is not necessary
to add that the proprietors of these edifying works never reclaimed them.
The opinions are divided here, whether this curious discovery originated
in the malice of Fouche, or whether Talleyrand took this method of duping
his rival, and at