I quickly changed the subject. This excellent prince always came back to his regrets at being more or less put into the shade by men who had only recently made good their names, and his comments on current events, though devoid of all bitterness, were stamped with a kind of sadness. I began talking to him about his military writings, which he liked best of all, and to which he attached the greatest importance. Posterity has judged differently. It has allotted the foremost place to his clever witticisms, to his remarks on the society, the manners and customs, and the artistic questions of his time, in the writing of which his imagination found full play. The soldier is almost entirely forgotten, but the sprightly and pungent literary man, the impartial and quick observer, is admired as much as ever. ‘I have left my works to my company of Trabans. They are the reflections of an old soldier whose experience has been deemed superfluous. At any rate, people will profit by it after my death.’ It was evident that the prince was in one of the fretful moods that now and again assailed him as a set-off to his youthful gaiety. His features became clouded, he took my arm; we had a short stroll round the rooms, then went out and walked silently to his little house on the rampart. Next morning when I called I found him, contrary to his custom, out of bed and seated in his library, which was at the same time his bed- and reception-room, and which, smiling, he had named the last bar of his perch. ‘You have come for the song. Just listen to it.’ And in a by no means feeble voice he began to sing the trifle which was soon taken up by all classes of society, including the sovereigns themselves.[78] ‘Take this copy with you,’ said the prince; ‘my heirs will be none the worse for this liberality on my part. It is different with regard to these two manuscripts which I am just touching up. One deals with considerations on the disastrous Austrian campaigns during the first years of the French Revolution; the other treats of the campaigns in Italy up to Marengo. Both are not without interest. But,’ interrupting himself, ‘while I am making songs on the Congress, what becomes of it? Have you got any news?’ ‘None, prince, not a syllable of what transpires leaks out. To tell the truth, people do not appear to concern themselves much with regard to it. There is, however, a great deal of talk about a ball Emperor Alexander proposes to give to the sovereigns at Prince Razumowski’s mansion on St. Catherine’s night, the fête-day of the Grand-Duchess of Oldenburg.’