This cause of trouble, also, was worrying Napoleon and making it hard to maintain good humor. And even this was far from being all. Murat, his brother-in-law, was acting almost as badly as his brother. Murat, who was grand duke, wanted to be king, had coveted the crown of Poland, had claimed the Spanish throne, and in his disappointment, in both instances, had fallen into a rebellious mood. Napoleon had given him Joseph’s vacant throne in Naples; but it was rumored that he was still discontented, and had been holding communications with conspirators in Paris. And who were these conspirators? Talleyrand and Fouché, of course. These restless, overrated, and chronic traitors had been sagely conferring in Paris, as they had done previous to Marengo, for the purpose of agreeing upon a successor to Napoleon, in case he should be killed in battle or hopelessly defeated. Nor was even this all: the funds had fallen, the treasury was drained, murmurs had begun to be heard in France against the expansion of the Empire; conscriptions, which had been called for in advance of the legal time, began to be unpopular, desertions were frequent, and “the refractory” grew ever more numerous. The Spanish war was not relished. Generals ordered to Spain went, but went reluctantly. They carried no zeal, none of that buoyant confidence which is half the battle. Troops ordered there marched, but without enthusiasm. Compared with Italy and Germany Spain was a barren land. Against armed peasant bands no glory was to be won; little booty could be expected. Even the Guard grumbled at such service. As Napoleon was holding a review at Valladolid just before quitting Spain, the murmurs in the ranks grew so loud that he lost control of himself, snatched the musket from one of the growlers, jerked the man out of the line, threatened to have him shot, and then pushed him back to his place while he sharply lectured the whole troop. Once more at Paris, Napoleon’s courtiers grouped themselves around him with the same blandishments as before. A few, a very few, might venture to speak frankly to him and to tell him the truth, but the many had fallen into the ways natural to all courts: they spoke, not to inform, but to please. And foremost among those who came to fawn and to flatter was “that cripple” whom Josephine said she dreaded, Talleyrand.