20th.—Mr. Balcombe had intimated to me that he was appointed to supply
us with what we wanted at the expense of the English Government; but I
wrote to inform him that, as my own pecuniary circumstances enabled me
to dispense with this favour, I was resolved not to avail myself of it.
I therefore begged that he would obtain permission from the Governor, to
receive from me a bill drawn on some person in England, which could not
be transmitted without special permission. I wished to remain free from
all obligations, so that nothing might impede me in freely exercising
the just and sad privilege of venting my reproaches and imprecations.
The Emperor rode out in the calash very early. On his return, about
three o’clock, he desired me to follow him to his chamber. “I am
low-spirited, unwell, and fatigued,” said he, “sit down in that
arm-chair, and bear me company.” He then threw himself on his couch and
fell asleep, while I watched beside him. I sat within a few paces of
him. His head was uncovered, and I gazed on his brow,—that brow on which
were inscribed Marengo, Austerlitz, and a hundred other immortal
victories. What were my thoughts and sensations at that moment? They may
be imagined; but I cannot attempt to describe them!
In about three quarters of an hour, the Emperor awoke. He took a few
turns in his chamber, and he then took a fancy to visit the apartments
of all the individuals of his suite. When he had minutely considered all
the inconveniences of mine, he said with a smile of indignation:—"Well,
I do not think that any christian on earth can be worse lodged than you
are."
After dinner, the Emperor attempted to read a part of the _Caravansêrail
de Sarrazin_. After glancing over a few of the tales, and reading a page
from one of them, he said:—"The moral of this story doubtless is that
men never change. This is not true; they change both for better and
worse. A thousand other maxims which authors attempt to establish are
all equally false. They affirm that men are ungrateful; but no, they are
not so ungrateful as is supposed: and if ingratitude be frequently a
subject of complaint, it is because the benefactor requires more than he
gives.
"It is also said that when you know a man’s character, you have a key to
his whole conduct. This is a mistaken notion. A man may commit a bad
action, though he be fundamentally good; he may be led into an act of
wickedness, without being himself wicked. This is because man is usually
actuated not by the natural bent of his character, but by a secret
momentary passion, which has lain dormant and concealed in the inmost
recesses of his heart. Another error is to suppose that the face is the
mirror of the mind. The truth is that it is very difficult to know a
man’s character. To avoid being deceived on this point, it is necessary
to judge a person by his actions only; and it must be by his actions of
the moment, and merely for that moment.
“In truth, men have their virtues and their vices, their heroism and
their perversity; men are neither generally good nor generally bad; but
they possess and practise all that is good and bad in this world. This
is the principle: natural disposition, education and accidental
circumstances produce the applications. I have always been guided by
this opinion, and I have generally found it correct. However, I was
deceived in 1814, when I believed that France, at the sight of her
dangers, would make common cause with me; but I was not deceived in
1815, on my return from Waterloo.”
The Emperor felt unwell, and retired very early.
THE GOVERNOR ARRESTS ONE OF OUR SERVANTS.—THE
BIBLE.
21st.—The Emperor continued indisposed; we nevertheless took our usual
airing in the calash. On our return, we were informed that the Governor
had been to Longwood and had himself arrested one of our domestics, who
had recently quitted the service of Deputy-Governor Skelton, and who had
a few days since been engaged by General Montholon. On hearing this, the
Emperor exclaimed: “What turpitude! what meanness! A Governor ... an
English Lieutenant-General himself to arrest a servant! Really this
conduct is too disgusting!”
The Grand Marshal joined us, and announced the arrival of a store ship,
which had left England on the 8th of March.
After dinner, the Emperor asked what we would read, and we all decided
for the Bible. “This is certainly very edifying,” said the Emperor; “it
would never be guessed in Europe.” He read to us the book of Joshua,
observing at almost every town or village that he named: “I encamped
there; I carried that place by assault; I gave battle here, &c.”
INSTANCES OF THE CAPRICE OF AUTHORITY—PRINCESS
STEPHANIE OF BADEN, &C.
22nd.—In the course of this day a great deal was said about the sailors
of the Northumberland, who had been given to us as domestics, and who,
we now understood, were to be withdrawn from our service. They had,
however, been engaged by a reciprocal contract, by which both parties
were bound for the space of a year. But we are without the pale of
ordinary law. The Governor affirmed that the Admiral wanted the men; and
the Admiral said that he would allow them to remain with us if the
Governor pleased. The sailors were taken away, and soldiers were sent in
their stead; but these were also removed and sent back again, ordered
away a second time and again sent back to us. We were unable to guess
the meaning of all these changes.
While I was in the Emperor’s apartment, waiting for the announcement of
dinner, the conversation fell on Madame Campan’s establishment, the
young persons who had been educated in it, and the fortunes which the
Emperor had conferred on some of them. He particularly alluded to
Stephanie de Beauharnais, afterwards Princess of Baden, to whom he said
he was much attached. He entered into many details respecting her.
Princess Stephanie of Baden lost her mother in her childhood. She was
left in the care of an English lady, her mother’s intimate friend, who
was very rich and without children, and who confided the education of
her _protegée_ to some old nuns in the south of France, I believe at
Montauban.
Napoleon, during his Consulship, one day heard Josephine mention this
circumstance, while alluding to her young relation Stephanie. “How can
you permit this?” said he. “How can you suffer one of your name to be
supported by a foreigner, an Englishwoman, who must at this moment be
regarded as our enemy? Are you not afraid that your memory will one day
suffer for this?” A courier, was immediately despatched to bring the
young lady to the Tuileries; but the nuns refused to part with her.
Napoleon, however, instituted the necessary legal forms, and a second
courier was speedily sent to the Prefect of the district, with orders
instantly to seize the person of the young lady in the name of the law.
Owing to the circumstances of the times, such was the influence of
certain systems of education, and of the opinions which they inspired,
that Stephanie’s removal was to herself a source of deep regret; and she
beheld not without terror him who declared himself her relative, and who
was about to become her benefactor. She was placed in the establishment
of Madame Campan, at St. Germain; all sorts of masters were appointed to
superintend her education, and, on her introduction to the world, her
beauty, wit, accomplishments, and virtues, rendered her an object of
universal admiration.
The Emperor adopted her as his daughter, and gave her in marriage to the
hereditary Prince of Baden. This union was for several years far from
being happy. In course of time, however, the causes of difference
gradually vanished; the Prince and Princess became attached to each
other, and from that moment they had only to regret the happiness of
which they had deprived themselves during the early years of their
marriage.
At the conferences of Erfurt, the Princess of Baden received the most
marked attentions from her brother-in-law, the Emperor Alexander. During
our disasters, in 1813, persons who were at the head of political
affairs, dreading the result of an interview between Alexander and the
Princess of Baden, at Manheim, succeeded in depriving the Princess of
the regard of her august relative, by circulating false reports to the
prejudice of her character. When therefore Alexander arrived at Manheim,
on his triumphal march to Paris, he by no means treated Princess
Stephanie with due respect. His conduct was calculated to wound her
feelings; but it could not humble her pride. On this occasion, the
conduct pursued by the Prince of Baden reflected true glory on his
character. The most august personages surrounded him, and urged him to
repudiate the wife whom he had received from the hands of Napoleon. But
the Prince, with true nobleness of sentiment, rejected the idea,
observing that he would never commit an act of baseness, which would be
as repugnant to his affections as to his honour. This generous Prince,
to whom we did not render sufficient justice in Paris, afterwards fell a
victim to a tedious and painful illness. The Princess personally
attended her husband throughout the whole of his sufferings, performing
with her own hands all the minute services that his situation required:
her devoted attachment gained for her the admiration of her relatives
and subjects.
Princess Stephanie of Baden shed a lustre over her exalted station. She
conferred honour on her character as a wife and a daughter. She at all
times professed the highest veneration for him, who, when in the
enjoyment of boundless power, had benevolently adopted her as his child.
THE EMPEROR’S MAXIMS WITH RESPECT TO SOVEREIGNTY.—THE EXPULSION OF
PORTALIS FROM THE COUNCIL OF STATE.—ACCIDENTS WHICH OCCURRED TO THE
EMPEROR AT ST. CLOUD, AUXONNE, AND MARLY.
23rd.—The Emperor desired me to attend him in his chamber, about two
o’clock. He remarked that I did not look well. He was himself ill, and
had had but little sleep during the preceding night. He began to dress,
saying that he should probably feel better when he had finished his
toilet. We then went out to walk in the garden. The turn of the
conversation led the Emperor to remark that our manners required that a
sovereign should be regarded only as a blessing to his people; his acts
of severity must be overlooked in consideration of his acts of clemency;
mercy must still be held to be his chief attribute. In Paris, he
observed, he had sometimes been reproached for conversations and words
which, in truth, ought not to have escaped him. But he added that his
personal situation, his extreme activity, and most of his acts, which
really proceeded from himself, ought to have made amends for many
things. He rendered justice to the delicate tact which distinguished the
inhabitants of the French capital; no where, he said, could be found so
much wit or more taste. He reproached himself for the expulsion of
Portalis from the Council of State. I, who was present at the scene,
told him that I thought his manner was somewhat paternal. “I was perhaps
too severe,” resumed he; “I should have checked myself before I ordered
him to be gone. He attempted no justification, and therefore the scene
should have ended, merely by my saying _It is well_. His punishment
should have awaited him at home. Anger is always unbecoming in a
sovereign. But perhaps I was excusable in my council, where I might
consider myself in the bosom of my own family; or perhaps, after all, I
may be justly condemned for this act. Every one has his fault; nature
will exert her sway over us all.”
He said he also reproached himself for his conduct to M. de G—— at the
Tuileries, during one of the grand Sunday audiences, and in presence of
all the Court.—"But in this instance," said he, “I was provoked to the
utmost extreme. My anger burst forth against my inclination. I had given
G—— the command of a legion of the capital, which I was about to defend.
I afterwards learned that he rejoiced in our disasters, and invoked
them, though I did not know this at the period to which I am now
alluding. The enemy was advancing upon us, and G—— coolly wrote to
inform me that his health would not permit him to take the command;
though, as a courtier, he presented himself to me in perfect activity
and good spirits. I was very indignant at his conduct; but I repressed
my anger, and resolved to take no notice of him. He, however, on three
or four occasions sought an opportunity of throwing himself in my way. I
could no longer stifle my rage, and the bomb exploded.
“But,” concluded the Emperor, "what distressed me most of all, was the
situation of G....’s son, who was my chamberlain, and of whom I had no
reason to complain."
The Emperor then spoke of the Faubourg St. Germain, and questioned me
respecting many families and individuals belonging to it. He happened to
mention the name of Madame de S....; I observed that she had constantly
evinced great attachment to the Emperor, for which she was now doubtless
severely punished. The Emperor was not aware of the extent and sincerity
of her zeal and devotedness; though he had been very much moved by her
generous resolution of remaining with the Empress Josephine. He had, he
said, to reproach himself for not having done any thing for Madame de
S..... She must have been unfortunate in the choice of the moment at
which she solicited her husband’s nomination to the Senate.
I had, from my childhood, been intimately acquainted with Madame de
S....; and she made me her confidential friend. I related to the Emperor
the anecdote of her nomination to the post of _dame du palais_. Her
husband one morning introduced her to the Empress Josephine, who
returned her thanks for having made an application to enter her service.
This was a thunderbolt to Madame de S...., who had never dreamed of
making such a solicitation; and who, in the natural timidity of her
disposition, preserved silence. At that time I was certainly far from
approving or advising her acceptance of the post: I nevertheless
rendered her a real act of service by withholding a letter of refusal
which she had confided to me, without the knowledge of her friends, and
which might have proved fatal to the intrigues of those by whom the
affair had been brought about.
The Emperor asked me what could have given rise to this repugnance on
the part of Madame de S.... to enter the service of the Empress? I
replied that it was occasioned by the connection she had had with the
royal family. “She was right,” said he, "how could her husband think of
placing her in a situation so hostile to her feelings? A similar case
occurred in one of my nominations of Chamberlains. One individual begged
that I would be pleased to allow him to decline the honour, because, as
he said, he had been first Gentleman of the Chamber to Louis XVI. and
Louis XVIII. This was perfectly reasonable on his part; but how could I
possibly listen to such a solicitation? It was a proof of want of
delicacy in those who proposed his nomination; but what had I to do with
that? Could I enter into details of this kind? The important affairs
that claimed my attention would not permit me to descend to matters of
this sort.
“However,” continued the Emperor, "if Madame de S.... had gone the right
way to work, she might have obtained all she asked for. But she never
evinced any particular interest in what she solicited, and made
applications only in favour of individuals who had not proved themselves
very deserving; among others she recommended to my notice a man who,
after being one of the King’s Peers, wished to be made one of mine. On
my return from Elba, his daughter came to assure me that, if I would
confer this favour upon him, he would pledge himself to act with zeal in
my service, acknowledging, as he said, no interests but those of the
nation. All this was of course fair enough."
About four o’clock the Emperor got into the calash; during our usual
ride, he mentioned several serious accidents by which, at one time or
other, his life had been endangered.
At St. Cloud, he once attempted to drive his calash six-in-hand. The
horses were startled by Aide-de-camp Cafarelli inadvertently crossing
the road in front of them. Before the Emperor had time to recover the
reins, the horses set off at full speed, and the calash, which rolled
along with extreme velocity, struck against a railing. The Emperor was
thrown out to the distance of eight or ten feet, and lay stretched on
the ground upon his face. He was, he said, dead for a few seconds. He
felt the moment at which life became extinct, which he called the
_negative moment_. The first person who touched him, on alighting from
his horse, immediately revived him. He observed that the mere contact
suddenly called him to life, as, in the night-mare, the sufferer is
relieved as soon as he can cry out.
On another occasion the Emperor said he had nearly been drowned. When in
garrison at Auxonne, in 1786, while he was one day amusing himself with
swimming, a sudden numbness came over him; he lost his self-possession,
and, being alone, he was carried along by the current in a senseless
state. He felt life escape him, and even heard his comrades on the shore
call out that he was drowned, and hasten in quest of boats to recover
his body. In this case a sudden shock restored him to life. His breast
struck against a sand-bank; and, by a miracle, his head, being above the
water, he recovered himself sufficiently to swim ashore. The water was
discharged from his stomach; he regained the spot where he had left his
clothes, and, having dressed himself, he got home, while his friends
were still in search of his body.
Another time, while hunting the wild boar at Marly, all his suite was
put to flight; it was like the rout of an army. The Emperor, with Soult
and Berthier, maintained their ground against three enormous boars. “We
killed all three; but I received a hurt from my adversary, and nearly
lost this finger,” said the Emperor, pointing to the third finger of his
left hand, which indeed bore the mark of a severe wound. "But the most
laughable circumstance of all was to see the multitude of men,
surrounded by their dogs, screening themselves behind the three heroes,
and calling out lustily:—‘_Save the Emperor! Save the Emperor!_’ while
not one advanced to my assistance."