‘In this book, full of curious details and profound views,’ he said, ‘there is only one mistake as far as I can judge. The author is too severe upon himself. There is not the faintest doubt about the transcendent military worth of Prince Charles, but it is marked by so much modesty and such simplicity of manner as to seem scarcely reconcilable with his reputation. He is not only the greatest captain of Austria, but more than once he has proved himself a counter-balance to the genius of your Napoleon. In his valour, in his faculty of inspiring both respect and obedience in his soldiers, he is like Frederick; in his virtues, his strict integrity, and his unalterable love of duty, he is the living image of the Prince Charles of Lorraine. The frankness of his soul is reflected in his face. Some time ago I attempted to draw his portrait in verse. I sent it to him anonymously, knowing as I did that direct praise was apt to displease him. In some way, I do not know how, he guessed the authorship. No doubt my feelings got the better of my style, and I presume that the books he sent me are intended as a reply. I have just finished reading them. I feel certain of their becoming classical, for admiration instinctively follows a public man admitted, as he is, to be possessed of a grand and noble character.’ Then he drifted to the famous captains of his time and to their notable exploits; and gradually I felt his enthusiasm gaining upon me. His own genius was discernible in his looks, and electrified me. The conversation of such men as he is more apt to enlighten one and to speak louder than their books. Inasmuch as I had made up my mind religiously to garner every literary scrap from the pen of this encyclopedic man, I asked him to give me his verses on Prince Charles, and I added them to my precious collection. ‘We’ll meet at Razumowski’s,’ he said, ‘seeing that, guided by pleasure only, we are evidently advancing towards the great result of this sapient assembly amidst balls, fêtes, _carrousels_, and games. No doubt the day will come when we shall be allowed to know the fate of Europe. Manifestly, though, experience does not appear to convey any valuable lesson either to men’s passions or to their ambition; and our era seems to have quickly forgotten a very recent past. ‘I must leave you, to preside at a chapter of the Order of Maria-Theresa;[79] the Commandeur-Général, Ouwaroff, is to be invested to-day. From there I am going to dine with your great diplomatist.’