23d.—The Emperor called upon me about three o’clock. He wished to take a
walk. He had a gloomy look, and had suffered much since yesterday. He
was seriously affected by the intense heat during his ride in the
calash. He had observed a new outer door which was making, and which
would have altered the whole interior of the topographical cabinet and
of Madame Montholon’s former apartment. He had not been consulted on the
occasion, and was sensibly affected at it. He sent instantly for the
person who had given the directions, and the wretched reasons he
assigned served only to vex him still more. We had come out to walk; but
it seemed decided that every thing was to irritate and put him in ill
humour that evening. He saw some English officers on his way, and turned
aside from them almost in anger, observing that shortly it would be
impossible for him to put his foot out of doors. A few paces off he was
joined by the Doctor, who came to tell him, unseasonably enough, of some
arrangements that were making for him, (the Emperor) and to ask his
opinion on the subject. It was one of the topics which, perhaps, hurt
his feelings most. He made no answer, his ordinary resource against
disappointment; but this time he kept silence with a fretfulness which
he could not conceal. He came up with the carriage, and got in; but on
our way we met some more English officers, and then he suddenly ordered
the coachman to drive off, at a gallop, in another direction.
The new door-way, however, which had been made in the house without his
knowledge, and which he found so inconvenient, still lay heavy on his
heart. He was about to lighten the load by a lively playfulness with the
wife of the person who had ordered it, and who happened to be in the
calash. “Ah,” said he, “are you there? You are in my power; you shall
pay the penalty. The husband is the guilty person; it is the wife that
shall answer for him.” But instead of accommodating herself to the sense
in which the words were uttered, which she might have done without the
least inconvenience, and with the certainty of a satisfactory result,
she persisted in making lame excuses for her husband, and repeating
reasons, which served but to revive his dissatisfaction. Finally, to
fill up the chapter of cross-purposes, one of us, on discovering the
tents of the camp, informed him that the evolutions and manœuvres of
the preceding day were in celebration of one of the great victories
gained by the English in Spain, and that the regiment which executed
them had been very nearly destroyed in that battle. “A regiment. Sir, is
never destroyed by the enemy; it is immortalized,” was his only answer.
It is true, that it was delivered very dryly.
For myself, I meditated in silence on this accumulation of
contrarieties, which struck such repeated blows in so short a time. It
was a precious moment for an observer. I estimated the mortification
which they were calculated to produce, and I remarked with admiration,
how little he betrayed. I said to myself: This is the _intractable man_,
this the _tyrant_! One would have supposed that he knew what was passing
in my mind, for, when we left the calash, and were a few paces before
the others, he said to me in a low tone, “If you like to study mankind,
learn how far patience can go, and all that one can put up with,” &c.
On his return, he called for tea; I had never seen him take any. Madame
de Montholon was, for the first time, in possession of her new saloon.
He wished to see it, and observed that she would be much better
accommodated than any of us. He called for fire, and played at chess
with several of us successively. He gradually recovered his natural
temper and ate a little at dinner, which completely restored him. He
indulged in conversation, and again reverted to his early years, which
always possessed fresh charms for him. He spoke a great deal of his
early acquaintances, and of the difficulties which some of them
experienced in obtaining admission to him after his elevation, and
observed that, “if the threshold of his palace was impassable, it was in
spite of himself. What then,” said he, “must be the situation of other
sovereigns in that respect!”
We continued the conversation until eleven, without noticing the
lateness of the hour.
MADAME DE B—— —ANECDOTES RESPECTING
THE EMIGRANTS.
24th.—To-day the Emperor tried the billiard-table which had just been
placed, and went out, but the weather being very damp, he returned
almost immediately.
He conversed with me in his apartment, before dinner, on the emigrants,
and the name of Madame de B...., who had been _dame d’atours_ to Madame,
and was very conspicuous in the commencement of our affairs, was
mentioned. The Emperor observed, “But is not this Madame de B.... a very
dangerous woman?”—“Certainly not,” I replied; “she is, on the contrary,
one of the best women in the world, with a great deal of wit, and an
excellent judgment.” “If that is the case,” said the Emperor, “she must
have much cause to complain of me. This is the painful consequence of
false representations; she was pointed out as a very dangerous
character.”—“Yes, Sire, you made her very unhappy. Madame de B....
placed all her happiness in the charms of society, and you banished her
from Paris. I met with her in one of my missions, confined within her
province, and pining away with vexation, yet she expressed no resentment
against your Majesty, and spoke of you with great moderation.” “Well,
then! why did you not come to me, and set me right?”—“Ah, Sire, your
character was then so little known to us, compared with what I know it
to be at present, that I should not have dared to do so. But I will
mention an anecdote of Madame de B.... when in London, during the high
tide of our emigration, which will make you better acquainted with her
than any thing I could say. At the time of your accession to the
Consulate, a person, just arrived from Paris, was invited to a small
party at her house. He engrossed the attention of the company, in
consequence of all the particulars that he had to communicate respecting
a place, which interested us so very materially. He was asked several
questions respecting the Consul. He cannot, said he, live long, he is
most delightfully _sallow_. These were his words. He grew more animated
by degrees, and gave as a toast—The death of the First Consul! Oh
horrible! was the instantaneous exclamation of Madame de B..... What,
drink to the death of a fellow creature! For shame! I will give a much
better one: The King’s health!”
“Well,” said the Emperor, “I repeat that she was very ill used by me, in
consequence of the representations which were made to me. She had been
described to me as a person fond of political intrigues, and remarkable
for the bitterness of her sarcasms. And this puts me in mind of an
expression which is perhaps wrongly attributed to her, but which struck
me, however, solely on account of its wit. I was assured that a
distinguished personage, who was very much attached to her, was seized
with a fit of jealousy, for which she clearly proved that she had given
no cause. He persisted however, and observed that she ought to know that
the wife of Cæsar should be free from suspicion. Madame de B.... replied
that the remark contained two important mistakes; for it was known to
all the world that she was not his wife, and that he was not Cæsar.”
After dinner, the Emperor read to us parts of the comedies of the
Dissipateur and the Glorieux, but he was so little pleased with them
that he left off; they did not possess a sufficient degree of interest.
He had a severe pain in his right side. It was the effect of the damp to
which he had been exposed during his morning walk, and we were not
without apprehensions of its being a symptom of the ordinary malady of
this scorching climate.
On my return home, I found a letter from England, with a parcel,
containing some articles for my toilet. The Griffin ship of war had just
arrived from England.
THE EMPEROR RECEIVES LETTERS FROM HIS FAMILY.—CONVERSATION WITH THE
ADMIRAL.—THE COMMISSIONERS OF THE ALLIED POWERS.
25th.—About nine o’clock, I received from the Grand Marshal three
letters for the Emperor. They were from Madame Mère, the Princess
Pauline, and Prince Lucien. The latter was enclosed in one addressed to
me, from Rome, by Prince Lucien, dated the 6th of March. I also received
two from my agent in London.
The Emperor passed the whole of the morning in reading the papers from
the 25th of April to the 13th of May. They contained accounts of the
death of the Empress of Austria, the prorogation of the French Chambers,
Cambrone’s acquittal, the condemnation of General Bertrand, &c. He made
many remarks upon all these subjects.
About three, Admiral Malcolm requested to be presented to the Emperor.
He brought him a series of the Journal des Debats to the 13th of May.
The Emperor desired me to introduce him, and he conversed with him
nearly three hours. He gave great pleasure to the Emperor, who treated
him, from the first moment, with a great deal of freedom and good
nature, as if he had been an old acquaintance. The Admiral was entirely
of his opinion with respect to a great number of subjects. He admitted
that it was extremely difficult to escape from St. Helena, and he could
see no inconvenience in allowing him to be at large in the island. He
considered it absurd that Plantation-house had not been given up to the
Emperor, and felt, but only since his arrival, he confessed, that the
title of General might be offensive. It struck him that Lady Loudon’s
conduct had been ridiculous here, and would be laughed at in London. He
thought that the Governor had good intentions, but did not know how to
act. Ministers had, in his opinion, been embarrassed with respect to the
Emperor, but entertained no hatred against him; they did not know how to
dispose of him. Had he remained in England, he would have been, and was
still, a terror to the Continent; he would have been too dangerous and
efficient an instrument in the hands of Opposition, &c. He was
apprehensive, however, that all these circumstances put together would
detain us here a long time; and he expressed his confidence that it was
the intention of Ministers, with the exception of the necessary
precautions to prevent his escape, that Napoleon should be treated with
every possible indulgence at St. Helena, &c. He delivered himself upon
all these points in so satisfactory a manner that the Emperor discussed
the business with him, with as little warmth as if he had not been
concerned in the matter.
At one moment, the Emperor produced a sensible effect upon him; it was
when, alluding to the Commissioners, he pointed out the impossibility of
receiving them. “After all, Sir,” said he, “you and I are men. I appeal
to you, is it possible that the Emperor of Austria, whose daughter I
married, who implored that union on his knees, who keeps back my wife
and my son, should send me his Commissioner, without a line for myself,
without the smallest scrap of a bulletin with respect to my son’s
health? Can I receive him with consistency? Can I have any thing to
communicate to him? I may say the same thing of the Commissioner sent by
Alexander, who gloried in calling himself my friend, with whom, indeed,
I carried on political wars, but had no personal quarrel. It is a fine
thing to be a Sovereign, but we are not on that account the less
entitled to be treated as men; I lay claim to no other character at
present! Can they all be destitute of feeling? Be assured, Sir, that
when I object to the title of General, I am not offended. I decline it
merely because it would be an acknowledgment that I have not been
Emperor; and, in this respect, I advocate the honour of others more than
my own. I advocate the honour of those with whom I have been, in that
rank, connected by treaties, by family and political alliances. The only
one of those Commissioners, whom I might perhaps receive, would be that
of Louis XVIII., who owes me nothing. That Commissioner was a long time
my subject, he acts merely in conformity to circumstances, independent
of his option; and I should accordingly receive him to-morrow, were I
not apprehensive of the misrepresentations that would take place, and of
the false colouring that would be given to the circumstance.”
After dinner, the Emperor again alluded to the time of his Consulate, to
the numerous conspiracies which had been formed against him, to the
celebrated persons of that period, &c. I have already noticed these
topics at considerable length. The conversation lasted until one o’clock
in the morning—a very extraordinary hour for us.
THE EMPEROR’S COURT.—EXPENSES, SAVINGS, HUNTING AND SHOOTING
ESTABLISHMENT, MEWS, PAGES, SERVICE OF HONOUR, &C.
26th—28th. Our usual mode of living, an airing in the carriage in the
middle of the day; conversation at night.
On the 27th the Emperor received, for a moment, a colonel, a relation of
the family of Walsh Serrant, who was on his return from the Cape in the
Haycomb, and was to sail next day for Europe. He had been Governor of
Bourbon, and entertained us with many agreeable particulars respecting
that island.
After dinner, the conversation turned on the old and new Court, with
their arrangements, expenses, etiquette, &c. I have already mentioned
most of these points in another place, and many of them were repeated on
the present occasion. I pass over what would seem but a literal
repetition.
The Emperor’s Court was, in every respect, much more magnificent than
any thing seen up to that period, and yet, said he, the expense was
infinitely less. That vast difference was caused by the suppression of
abuses, and by the introduction of order and regularity into the
accounts. His hunting and shooting establishment, with the exception of
some useless and ridiculous particulars, he observed, as that of
falconry and some others, was as splendid, as numerous, and as striking,
as that of Louis XVI., and the annual disbursement, he assured us, was
but 400,000 francs, while the King’s amounted to seven millions. His
table was regulated according to the same system. Duroc had, by his
regularity and strictness, done wonders in that respect. Under the
kings, the palaces were not kept furnished, and the same articles were
transferred from one palace to another; the people belonging to the
Court had no furniture allowed them, and every one was obliged to look
out for himself. Under him, on the contrary, there was not a person in
attendance who did not find himself provided as comfortably, or even
more so, with every thing that was necessary or suitable, in the
apartment assigned to him, than in his own house.
The Emperor’s stud cost three millions, the expense of the horses was
averaged at 3000 francs a horse yearly. A page cost from 6 to 8000
francs. That establishment, he observed, was perhaps the most expensive
belonging to the palace, and accordingly the education of the pages and
the care taken of them, were the subjects of just encomium. The first
families of the empire were solicitous to place their children in it,
and they had good reason, said the Emperor.
With respect to the etiquette of the Court, the Emperor said he was the
first who had separated the _service of honour_ (an expression invented
under him) from that which was absolutely necessary. He had dismissed
every thing that was laborious and substantial, and substituted what was
nominal and ornamental only. “A king,” he said, “is not to be found in
nature, he is the mere creature of civilization. There are no naked
kings; they must all be dressed,” &c.
The Emperor remarked that it was impossible for any one to be better
informed of the nature and relation of all these matters than himself;
because they had been all regulated by him, according to the precedents
of past times, from which he had lopped off whatever was ridiculous, and
preserved every thing that appeared suitable.
The conversation lasted until after eleven o’clock. It had been kept up
with tolerable spirit; and the Emperor again observed, on leaving us,
that, after all, we must be a good-natured kind of people to be able to
lead so contented a life at St. Helena.
FRESH INSTANCE OF THE GOVERNOR’S MALIGNITY, &c.—DESPERATE PROJECT OF
SANTINI, THE CORSICAN.
29th.—The weather had been bad for some days; the Emperor took advantage
of a fine interval to examine a tent, which the admiral had, in a very
handsome manner, ordered to be erected for his accommodation by his
ship’s crew, having heard him complain, in the course of conversation,
of the want of shade, and of the impossibility of enjoying himself in
the air out of his apartment. The Emperor conversed with the officer and
men who were putting the last hand to the work, and ordered a napoleon
to be given to each of the seamen.
We learnt to-day that the last vessel had brought a book on the state of
public affairs for the Emperor, written, as it was said, by a Member of
Parliament. It had been sent by the author himself, and the following
words were inscribed in letters of gold on the outside,—_To Napoleon the
Great_. This circumstance induced the Governor to keep back the work, a
rigour, on his part, which formed a singular contrast with his eagerness
to supply us with libels, that treated the Emperor so disrespectfully.
During dinner, the Emperor, turning, with a stern look, to one of the
servants in waiting, exclaimed, to our utter consternation: “So then,
assassin, you intended to kill the Governor!—Wretch!—If such a thought
ever again enters your head, you will have to do with me; you will see
how I shall behave to you.” And then, addressing himself to us, he said,
“Gentlemen, it is Santini, there, who determined to kill the Governor.
That rascal was about to involve us in a sad embarrassment. I found it
necessary to exert all my authority, all my indignation to restrain
him.”
In order to explain this extraordinary transaction, it is necessary for
me to observe that Santini, who was formerly usher of the Emperor’s
cabinet, and whose extreme devotion had prompted him to follow his
master and serve him, no matter, he said, in what capacity, was a
Corsican, of deep feeling and a warm imagination. Enraged at the
Governor’s ill usage, no longer able to bear with patience the affronts
which he saw heaped upon the Emperor, exasperated at the decline of his
health, and affected himself with a distracting melancholy, he had, for
some time, done no work in the house, and, under pretence of procuring
some game for the Emperor’s table, his employment seemed to be that of
shooting in the neighbourhood. In a moment of confidence, he told his
countryman Cypriani that he had formed the project, by the means of his
double barrelled piece, of killing the Governor, and then putting an end
to himself. And all, said he, to rid the world of a monster.
Cypriani, who knew his countryman’s character, was shocked at his
determination, and communicated it to several other servants. They all
united in entreating him to lay aside his design, but their efforts,
instead of mitigating, seemed but to inflame his irritation. They
resolved then to disclose the project to the Emperor, who had him
instantly brought before him: “And it was only,” he told me some time
afterwards, “by _imperial_, by _pontifical_ authority, that I finally
succeeded in making the scoundrel desist altogether from his project.
Observe for a moment the fatal consequences which he was about to
produce. I should have also passed for the murderer, the assassin, of
the Governor, and in reality it would have been very difficult to
destroy such an impression in the mind of a great number of people.”
The Emperor read to us La Mort de Pompée, which was stated in the
journals to be the subject of general interest at Paris, on account of
its political allusions. And this gave rise to the remark that
government had been obliged to forbid the representation of Richard, and
that, certainly on the fifth and sixth of October, Louis XVI. little
thought of its ever being prohibited for its allusions to another. “The
fact is that times are wonderfully changed,” said the Emperor.
30th.—The Emperor, after a few turns in the garden, went to General
Gourgaud’s apartment, where he was a long time employed, with his
compasses and pencil, in laying down the coast of Syria, and the plan of
Saint Jean d’Acre, which the general was to execute. In marking some
points about Acre, he said:—“I passed many unpleasant moments there.”
In the evening we had Le Mariage de Figaro, which entertained and
interested us much more than we had been led to expect. “It was,”
observed the Emperor, in shutting the book, “the Revolution already put
into action.”
LA HARPE’S MÉLANIE.—NUNS.—CONVENTS.—MONKS
OF LA TRAPPE.—THE FRENCH CLERGY.
31st.—The weather was horrible about three o’clock, and the Emperor
could scarcely reach Madame de Montholon’s saloon. He amused himself for
some time there in reading the Thousand and One Nights, and afterwards,
perceiving a volume of the Moniteur on which M. de Montholon was then
employed, and which lay open in the part relative to the negotiations
for a maritime armistice in 1800, his whole attention was absorbed by
them for upwards of an hour.
After dinner, the Emperor read first La Mère Coupable, in which we felt
interested, and next the Mélanie of La Harpe, which he thought
wretchedly conceived and very badly executed. “It was,” he said, “a
turgid declamation, in perfect conformity with the taste of the times,
founded in fashionable calumnies and absurd falsehoods. When La Harpe
wrote that piece, a father certainly had not the power of forcing his
daughter to take the veil; the laws would never have allowed it. This
play, which was performed at the beginning of the Revolution, was
indebted for its success solely to the extravagance of public opinion.
Now, that the passion is over, it must be deemed a wretched performance!
La Harpe’s characters are all unnatural. He should not have attacked
defective institutions with defective weapons.”
The Emperor said that La Harpe had so completely failed in his object,
with regard to his own impressions, that all his feelings were in favour
of the father, while he was shocked at the daughter’s conduct. He had
never seen the performance, without being tempted to start from his
seat, and call out to the daughter: “You have but to say, No, and we
will all take your part; you will find a protector in every citizen.”
He observed that, when he was on service with his regiment, he had often
witnessed the ceremony of taking the veil. “It was a ceremony very much
attended by the officers, and which raised our indignation, particularly
when the victims were handsome. We ran in crowds to it, and our
attention was alive to the slightest incident. Had they but said, _No_,
we should have carried them off sword in hand. It is consequently false
that violence was employed: seductive means only were resorted to.
Those, upon whom they were practised, were kept secluded perhaps, like
recruits. The fact is that, before they had done, they had to pass the
ordeal of the nuns, the abbess, the spiritual director, the bishop, the
civil officer, and finally the public spectators. Can it be supposed
that all these had agreed to concur in the commission of a crime?”
The Emperor declared that he was an enemy to convents in general, as
useless, and productive of degrading inactivity. He allowed, however, in
another point of view, that certain reasons might be pleaded in their
favour. The best _mezzo termine_, and he had adopted it, was, in his
opinion, that of tolerating them, of obliging the members to become
useful, and of allowing annual vows only.
The Emperor complained that he had not had time enough to complete his
institutions. It had been his intention to enlarge the establishments of
Saint Denis and Ecouen, for the purpose of affording an asylum to the
widows of soldiers, or women advanced in years. “And then,” he added,
“it must also be admitted that there were characters and imaginations of
all kinds; that compulsion ought not to be used with regard to persons
of an eccentric turn, provided their oddities are harmless, and that an
empire, like France, might and ought to have houses for madmen, called
_Trappistes_. With respect to the latter,” he observed, “that if any one
ever thought of inflicting upon others the discipline which they
practised, it would be justly considered a most abominable tyranny, and
that it might, notwithstanding, constitute the delight of him who
voluntarily exercised it on himself. Such is man, such his whims, or his
follies!... He had tolerated the monks of Mount Cenis, but these, at
least,” he added, “were useful, very useful, and might be even called
heroic.”
The Emperor expressed himself in his Council of State in the following
words, when the organization of the University was about to take place:
“It is my opinion that the monks would be far the best body for
communicating instruction, were it possible to keep them under proper
control, and to withdraw them from their dependence upon a foreign
master. I am disposed to be favourable to them. I should, perhaps, have
had the power to reinstate them in their establishments, but they have
made the thing impossible. The moment I do any thing for the clergy,
they give me cause to repent it. I do not complain of the old
established clergy, for with them I am sufficiently satisfied; but the
young priests are brought up in a gloomy fanatical doctrine; there is
nothing Gallican in the young clergy.
“I have nothing to say against the old bishops. They have shewn
themselves grateful for what I did for religion; they have realized my
expectations.
“Cardinal de Boisgelin was a man of sense, a virtuous character, who had
faithfully adopted me.
“The Archbishop of Tours, Barral, a man of great acquirements, and who
was of essential service to us in our differences with the Pope, was
always very much attached to me.
“The worthy Cardinal du Belloy, and the virtuous Bishop Roquelaure, had
a sincere affection for me.
“I made no difficulty whatever in placing Bishop Beausset among the
Dignitaries of the University, and I am convinced that he was one of
those who, in that capacity, most sincerely conducted themselves in
conformity with my views.
“All these old bishops possessed my confidence, and none of them
deceived me. It is not a little singular that those whom I had the
greatest cause to complain of were precisely those whom I had chosen
myself; so very true is it that the holy unction, though it attaches us
to the kingdom of Heaven, does not deliver us from the infirmities of
the earth, from its irregularities, its obscenities, its turpitudes.”
The conversation next turned upon the want of priests in France, the
obligation of engaging them at the age of sixteen, and the difficulty,
even the impossibility, of finding any at twenty-one.
It was the Emperor’s wish that they should be ordained at a more
advanced age. The answer of the bishops and the Pope himself was, “It is
very well: your reasons are very just; but if you wait for that period
you will find none to ordain, and yet you admit that you are in want of
them.”
“I have no doubt,” observed the Emperor, “that, after me, other
principles will be adopted. A conscription of priests and nuns will,
perhaps, be seen in France, as a military conscription was seen in my
time. My barracks will, perhaps, be turned into convents and seminaries.
Thus goes the world. Poor nations! In spite of all your knowledge, all
your wisdom, you continue, like individuals, the slaves of fashionable
caprice.”
It was nearly one o’clock in the morning before the Emperor retired. It
was, he said, a real victory over _ennui_, and a great relief for the
want of sleep.
MARIA ANTOINETTE.—THE MANNERS OF
VERSAILLES.—ANECDOTE.—BEVERLEY.—DIDEROT’S
PÉRE DE FAMILLE.
August 1.—The weather was dreadful. About three o’clock, the Grand
Marshal came to look for me; but as I had at that moment ventured out, I
was not to be found. It was on account of some English, whom he had to
present to the Emperor.
The Emperor sent for me at five; he was in a bad humour, and not a
little so, he said, on my account. The visit of the English, the bad
weather, the want of the saloon and an interpreter, had all combined to
vex him.
He was reading the Veillées du Château, which, he observed, were
tiresome, and he left them for the Tales of Margaret, Queen of Navarre.
He afterwards adverted to Versailles; the Court, the Queen, Madame
Campan, and the King, were the principal subjects of his remarks, and he
said many things, some of which I have already noticed. He concluded
with observing that Louis XVI. would have been a perfect pattern in
private life, but that he had been a sorry King; and that the Queen
would no doubt have been, at all times, the ornament of every circle,
but that her levity, her inconsistencies, and her want of capacity, had
not a little contributed to promote and accelerate the catastrophe. She
had, he remarked, deranged the manners of Versailles; its ancient
gravity and strict etiquette were transformed into the free and easy
manners and absolute tittle-tattle of a private party. No man of sense
and importance could avoid the jests of the young courtiers, whose
natural disposition for raillery was sharpened by the applauses of a
young and beautiful Sovereign.
One of the most characteristic anecdotes of that day was told. A gallant
and worthy German general arrived at Paris, with a special
recommendation to the Queen, from the Emperor Joseph, her brother. The
Queen thought she could not do him a greater favour than to invite him
to one of her private parties. He found himself, it may be easily
imagined, a little out of his element in such company, but it was every
one’s wish to treat him with marked respect, and he was obliged to take
a leading part in the conversation. He was unfortunate in the selection
of his topics, and in his manner of introducing them. He talked a great
deal about _his white mare, and his grey mare_, which he valued above
all things. The subject gave rise to a number of arch inquiries on the
part of the young courtiers, respecting a thousand frivolous points,
which he had the good-nature to answer, as if they were matters of
importance. In conclusion, one of them asked to which of the two he gave
the decided preference: “Really,” answered the general, with peculiar
significance, “I must confess, that, if I were in the day of battle on
my white mare, I do not believe I should dismount to get on my grey
one.” At length he made his bow, and the bursts of laughter that
followed may be easily conceived. The conversation took another turn
after his departure; the attractions of white and brown beauties were
long and ingeniously canvassed, and, the Queen having asked one of the
party which he preferred, he instantly assumed a grave air, and
imitating the solemn tone of the Austrian, answered, “Really, Madam, I
must confess, that if I were in the day of battle on....” “Enough,”
interposed the Queen, “spare us the remainder.”
After dinner he read Beverley and the Père de Famille to us. The latter,
in particular, excited his animadversion. To us it seemed a paltry
production. What most amused the Emperor, as he said, was that it was
Diderot’s, that Coryphœus of philosophers and of the Encyclopedia.
All it contained was, he said, false and ridiculous. The Emperor entered
into a long examination of the details, and concluded with saying, “Why
reason with a madman in the height of a raging fever? It is remedies and
a decisive mode of treatment that he needs. Who does not know that the
only safeguard against love is flight? When Mentor wishes to secure
Telemachus, he plunges him into the sea. When Ulysses endeavours to
preserve himself from the Syrens, he causes himself to be bound fast,
after having stopped the ears of his companions with wax.”