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.
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.