The grenadiers of the Old Guard, under the orders of General Soules, returned to France after the peace of Tilsit.  On their arrival at Mayence, the custom-house officers endeavored to perform their duty, and consequently inspected the chests of the Guard and those of the general.  Meanwhile, the director of the custom-house, in doubt what proceedings to take, sought the general to inform him of the necessity he was under of executing the laws, and of carrying out the direct orders of the Emperor.  The general’s reply to this courteous overture was plain and energetic:  “If a single officer dares to place his hand on the boxes of my old mustaches, I’ll throw him into the Rhine!” The officer insisted.  The custom-house employees were quite numerous, and were preparing to proceed with the inspection, when General Soules had the boxes put in the middle of the square, and a regiment detailed to guard them.  The director of the custom-house, not daring to proceed further, sent to the director-general a report to be submitted to the Emperor.  Under any other circumstances the case would have been serious; but the Emperor had just returned to Paris, where he had been welcomed more heartily than ever before by the acclamations of the people on the occasion of the fetes celebrated in honor of peace, and this old Guard was returning home resplendent with glory, and after most admirable behavior at Eylau.  All these things combined to quell the Emperor’s anger; and having decided not to punish, he wished to reward them, and not to take seriously their infraction of his custom-house regulations.  General Soules, on reaching Paris, presented himself before the Emperor, who received him cordially, and, after some remarks relative to the Guard, added:  “By the by, what is this you have been doing?  I heard of you.  What! you really threatened to throw my custom-house officers into the Rhine!  Would you have done it?”—­“Yes, Sire,” replied the general, with his German accent, “yes; I would have done it.  It was an insult to my old grenadiers to attempt to inspect their boxes.”—­“Come, now,” said the Emperor very affably, “I see just how it is.  You have been smuggling.”—­“I, Sire?”—­“Yes, I say.  You have been smuggling.  You bought linen in Hanover.  You wanted to furnish your house handsomely, as you imagined I would appoint you senator.  You were not mistaken.  Go and have your senator’s coat made, but do not repeat this performance, for next time I will have you shot.”

During our stay at Bayonne, in 1808, every one was struck with the awkward manners of the King and Queen of Spain, and the poor taste displayed in their toilets, the disgraceful appearance of their equipages, and a certain air of constraint and embarrassment which was general among all the persons of their suite.  The elegant manners of the French and the magnificence of the imperial equipages furnished such a contrast to all this that it rendered them indescribably ridiculous.