21st.—The weather as horrible as ever.—We are seriously incommoded with
the wet in our apartments; the rain penetrates every where.
The governor’s secretary brought me a letter from Europe; it afforded a
few moments of real happiness; it contained the recollections and good
wishes of my dearest friends. I went and read it to the Emperor.
The Emperor suffered seriously from the badness of the weather. He went
to his saloon about four o’clock; he thought that he was feverish, and
found himself much depressed; he called for some punch, and played a few
games at chess with the grand marshal. The doctor is come from the town.
The two vessels just arrived are from the Cape; one of them is the
Podargus, which left Europe ten days after the Griffin; the other, a
small frigate, on her way from India to Europe. There was, it was said,
a letter for the _Emperor Napoleon_, but it was not delivered, and we
did not know from whom it came.
After dinner it was said that the medicines in the island were
exhausted, and it was remarked, that the Emperor could not be accused of
having contributed to it. This led him to observe, that he did not
recollect having ever taken any medicine. At the Tuileries, he had had
three blisters at once, and even then he had not taken any. He received
a serious wound at Toulon; it was, he said, like that of Ulysses, by
which his old nurse knew him again; he had recovered altogether, without
taking physic. One of us taking the liberty to say; “If your majesty had
the dysentery to-morrow, would you still reject all kind of medicine?”
The Emperor answered; “Now that I am tolerably well, I answer, yes,
without hesitation; but if I were to be very ill, I should, perhaps,
alter my mind, and should then feel that kind of conversion, which is
produced on a dying man through the fear of the devil.” He again
mentioned his incredulity in physic, but he did not think so, he said,
of surgery. He had three times commenced a course of anatomy, but they
had always been broken off by business and disgust. “On a certain
occasion, and at the end of a long discussion, Corvisart, desirous of
speaking to me, with his proofs in hand, was so abominably filthy as to
bring a stomach, wrapped up in his pocket-handkerchief, to St. Cloud,
and I was instantly compelled, at that horrible sight, to cast up all
that I had in mine.”
The Emperor attempted, after dinner, to read a comedy, but he was so
fatigued, and suffered so much, that he was forced to stop and retire
about nine o’clock. He made me follow him, and as he felt no inclination
to sleep, he said; “Come, my dear Las Cases, let us see; let us have a
story about your fauxbourg Saint Germain, and let us endeavour to laugh
at it, as if we were listening to the Thousand and One Nights’!”—“Very
well, Sire; there was, formerly, one of your Majesty’s chamberlains, who
had a grand-uncle, who was very old, very old indeed, ... and I remember
your Majesty telling us the story of a heavy German officer, who, taken
prisoner at the opening of the campaign in Italy, complained that a
young conceited fellow had been sent to command against them, who
spoiled the profession, and made it intolerable. Well! we had precisely
his likeness among us; it was the old grand-uncle, who was still dressed
nearly in the costume of Louis XIV. He showed off, whenever you sent
accounts of any extraordinary achievements on the other side of the
Rhine; your bulletins of Ulm and Jena operated upon him like so many
revulsions of bile. He was far from admiring you. You also spoiled the
profession, in his opinion. He had, he frequently said, made the
campaigns under Marshal de Saxe, which indeed were prodigies in war, and
had not been sufficiently appreciated. ‘War was, no doubt, then an art;
but now!!!’ he remarked, shrugging up his shoulders.... ‘In our time we
carried on war with great decorum; we had our mules; we were followed by
our canteens; we had our tents; we lived well; we had even plays
performed at head-quarters; the armies approached each other; admirable
positions were occupied; a battle took place; a siege was occasionally
carried on, and afterwards we went into winter-quarters, to renew our
operations in the spring. That is,’ he exclaimed, with exultation, ‘what
may be called making war! But now, a whole army disappears before
another in a single battle, and a monarchy is overturned; a hundred
leagues are run over in ten days; as for sleeping and eating, they are
out of the question. Truly, if you call that genius, I am, for my own
part, obliged to acknowledge, that I know nothing about it; and,
accordingly, you excite my pity, when I hear you call him a great man.’”
The Emperor burst into fits of laughter, particularly when the mules and
canteens were mentioned. He then added; “You were of course accustomed
to say a great many foolish things about me.”—“O yes, Sire, and in vast
abundance.” “Very well! We are alone; nobody will intrude; tell me some
more of them.” “A fine gentleman, who had formerly been a captain of
cavalry, and who seemed perfectly satisfied with his own person and
accomplishments, was introduced to a select society where I was present.
‘I come,’ he said, ‘from the Plain of Sablons. I have just seen _our
Ostrogoth_ manœuvre.’ That, Sire, was your Majesty. ‘He had two or
three regiments, which he threw into confusion upon each other, and they
were all lost in some bushes. I would have taken him and all his men
prisoners with fifty maitres (formerly troopers) only. An usurped
reputation!’ he exclaimed. ‘Accordingly, Moreau was always of opinion,
that he would fail in Germany. A war with Germany is talked of; if it
takes place, we shall see how he will get out of it. He will have
justice done to him.’
“The war took place, and your Majesty sent us, in a very few days, the
bulletin of Ulm, and that of Austerlitz; our fine gentleman again made
his appearance in the same company, and for the moment, in spite of our
malevolence, we could not help crying out all at once: ‘And your fifty
maitres!’ ‘Oh! truly,’ said he, ‘it is impossible to comprehend the
thing; this man triumphs over every obstacle: Fortune leads him by the
hand, and, besides, the Austrians are so awkward; such fools!’”...
The Emperor laughed heartily, and wished for some anecdote still more
absurd. “That would indeed, Sire, be very difficult to find. I
recollect, however, an old dowager, who, to the day of her death,
obstinately refused to give credit to any of your successes in Germany.
When Ulm, Austerlitz, and your entrance into Vienna were mentioned in
her presence:—‘So, you believe all that,‘ said she, shrugging up her
shoulders. ‘It is all his fabrication. He would not presume to set a
foot in Germany; be assured, that he is still behind the Rhine, where he
is perishing from fear, and sends us those silly stories: you will
learn, in time, that I am not to be imposed upon.’”
And these stories being over, the Emperor sent me away, saying: “What
are they doing, what must they say, at present? I am certainly now
giving them a fine opportunity.”
22nd.—This was a day of real mourning for me: it was the first, since
our departure from France, in which I did not see the Emperor. I was the
only one, in consequence of fortunate circumstances, who, until now, had
enjoyed that happiness. His sufferings were great, and his seclusion
complete. He did not ask to see a single person.
THE EMPEROR CONTINUES ILL.—REMARKABLE OFFICIAL
DOCUMENT, ADDRESSED TO SIR HUDSON LOWE.
23d.—The weather has continued wet and rainy. About half-past three, the
Emperor sent for me to his chamber. He was dressing himself; he had been
very seriously indisposed, but, thanks to his mode of treating himself,
he said, and to his hermetical seclusion of the preceding day, his
complaint was over. He was again well.
I dared to express my sincere grief; I had inscribed, I said, an unhappy
day in my journal; I should have marked it in red ink. And when he
learned what it was: “What indeed,” he said, “is it the only day, since
we left France, in which you have not seen me?... And you are the only
one!...” And after a silence of some seconds, he added, in a tone
peculiarly adapted to make me amends, if that were possible; “But, my
dear Las Cases, if you set such a value on it, if you consider it of so
much moment, why did you not come and knock at my door? I am not
inaccessible to you.”
The Doctor was introduced; he assured us that the Governor had promised
never again to set foot at Longwood. It was ironically observed by one
of us that he began to make himself agreeable.
The Emperor then went to his library, where a long letter which I had
written to Rome,[9] was read to him by my son. He was driven out by the
wet, and, on his way to the saloon and billiard-room, he was tempted by
the sight of the steps to walk a little. “I know,” he said, “I am doing
what is not prudent.” Luckily, the wet weather forced him to return
almost instantly. He took a seat in the saloon, where there was a good
fire, called for infusion of orange-leaves, and played some games of
chess.
Footnote 9:
It was my letter to Prince Lucien, since so celebrated in the history
of my persecutions, and which will be found in its proper place.
After dinner, the Emperor read Marmontel’s Tales, and stopped at that of
the self-styled philosopher. He still coughed a great deal, and again
called for some of the same drink. He entered into a long and most
interesting review of Jean Jacques, of his talents, his influence, his
eccentricities, his private vices. He retired at ten o’clock. I regret
very much, that I cannot now recollect the particulars relative to all
these subjects.
In the course of the day M. de Montholon addressed the following
official answer to the Governor, who had sent a letter, respecting the
commissioners of the allied powers, and the embarrassed state of his
finances. It is the letter, which I have already noticed on the 18th of
this month.