I should have had any thing to reproach myself with, or that my attachment to you would have been the less sincere; but because I should not have wished to pass for a piece of court furniture, or to seem always ready to offer incense at the shrine of power. I should have awaited an appointment, instead of pressing forward to solicit one. But as it was, I felt myself so much at liberty, every thing about me was in such perfect harmony, that I seemed to form a part of the great event. I therefore eagerly hastened to meet the first glance of your Majesty; I felt as though I had claims on your kindness and favour. On your return from Waterloo, the same sentiments brought me immediately and spontaneously near your person, which I have never since quitted. If I was then attracted by your public glory, I am now attached by your private virtues; and if it be true that the gratification of my feelings then cost me some sacrifice, I now find myself repaid a hundred-fold, by the happiness I enjoy in being able to tell you so.
“It would however be difficult to describe the extreme disgust I felt at every thing during the ten months of your absence. I felt an utter contempt for mankind and worldly vanities. Every illusion was destroyed, all interest had vanished. Every thing appeared to be at an end, or to be undeserving of the smallest value. During my emigration, I had received the cross of St. Louis; an ordinance decreed that it was to be legitimated by a new brevet. I had not spirit to put in my claim. Another ordinance directed that the titles bestowed by your Majesty should be sent in to be confirmed; but I felt indifferent with regard to compromising those which I had obtained during the Empire. In fine, I received a letter from the Marine department, informing me that my captain’s commission had just been forwarded thither, and there it still remains.
“Your Majesty’s absence was to me a widowhood, the affliction and grief of which I concealed from no one. But on your return I was repaid for all by the testimony borne by those who surrounded you, and to whom I had previously been scarcely known. At your Majesty’s first levee, the individual who was ad interim at the head of the department of foreign affairs, coming from the presence, took me aside to a window, and told me to go home and prepare, as I should probably have to set out on a journey. He had just, he said, proposed me to your Majesty, adding that he had represented me as a madman, but mad for love of you. I wished to know whither I was to be sent; but that, he said, he neither would nor could tell me. I never heard any thing more of the matter.
“M. Regnault de Saint-Jean d’Angeli placed me on the list of the Imperial Commissioners whom your Majesty sent to the departments, I assured him that I was ready to do any thing; but I observed that I was a noble and an emigrant, and that these two words pronounced by the first comer would be sufficient to annihilate me, in case of necessity, at any time or in any place. He acknowledged the justice of my observation, and relinquished his intention.
“A Senator next solicited that your Majesty would appoint me to the prefecture of Metz, his native town. He requested me to make this sacrifice for only three months, in order, as he said, to conciliate the popular mind, and set things to rights. At length Decrés and the Duke of Bassano proposed me as a Councillor of State; and, the third day after your arrival, your Majesty signed my appointment.”
23rd.—The Emperor was still indisposed: he confined himself to his room, and would see nobody. He sent for me at 9 o’clock in the evening. I found him very low-spirited and melancholy. He scarcely spoke to me, and I did not dare to say anything to him. If I regarded his illness as merely physical, it grieved me sincerely:—if he laboured under mental affliction, how much more was I grieved that I could not employ all the resources of consolation with which the heart naturally overflows for those whom we truly love. The Emperor dismissed me in about half an hour.
24th.—The Emperor continued indisposed, and still declined seeing any body. He sent for me to dine with him at a late hour. Dinner was served on a little table beside the sofa on which he was lying. He ate heartily. He said that he stood in need of some sudden revulsion of the constitution, which he should soon obtain; so well did he understand his own temperament. After dinner he took up the Memoirs of Marshal de Villars, which amused him. He read aloud many passages, which revived former recollections, and gave rise to many anecdotes.
THE EMPEROR’S TEMPERAMENT.—RIDING.—NOTIONS
OF MEDICINE.
25th.—The Emperor still continued unwell: he had passed a bad night. At his desire I dined with him beside the sofa, which he was unable to leave. He was, however, evidently much better. After dinner he wished to read. He had a heap of books scattered around him on the sofa. The rapidity of his imagination, the fatigue of dwelling always on the same subject, or of reading what he already knew, caused him to take up and throw down the books one after the other. At length he fixed on Racine’s Iphigenia, and amused himself by pointing out the beauties, and discussing the few faults, to be found in that work. He dismissed me at an early hour.
Contrary to the general opinion, in which I myself once participated, the Emperor is far from possessing a strong constitution. His limbs are large, but his fibres are relaxed. With a very expanded chest, he is constantly labouring under the effects of cold. His body is subject to the influence of the slightest accidents. The smell of paint is sufficient to make him ill; certain dishes, or the slightest degree of damp, immediately take a severe effect on him. His body is far from being a body of iron, as is generally supposed: all his strength is in his mind. His prodigious exertions abroad and his incessant labours at home are known to every one. No sovereign ever underwent so much bodily fatigue. The most remarkable instance of the Emperor’s activity and exertion was his riding post from Valladolid to Burgos, (a distance of thirty-five Spanish leagues) in five hours and a half; that is to say, upwards of seven leagues an hour.25 The Emperor had set out accompanied by a numerous escort, in case of danger from the Guerillas; but at every yard he left some of his company behind him, and he arrived at Burgos with but few followers. His ride from Vienna to the Simmering, a distance of eighteen or twenty leagues, is also frequently talked of. The Emperor rode to breakfast at the Simmering, and returned to Vienna immediately after. Napoleon often hunted to the distance of thirty-eight leagues, and never less than fifteen. One day a Russian officer, who had come as a courier from St. Petersburg in the space of twelve or thirteen days, arrived at Fontainebleau at the moment when the Emperor was about to set out on a hunt. By way of a rest, the officer had the honour to be invited to join the hunting-party. He of course accepted the invitation; but he dropped down in the forest, overcome by fatigue, and was not found until after considerable search had been made for him.
I have known the Emperor to be engaged in business in the Council of State for eight or nine hours successively, and afterwards rise with his ideas as clear as when he sat down. I have seen him at St. Helena peruse books for ten or twelve hours in succession, on the most abstruse subjects, without appearing in the least fatigued. He has suffered, unmoved, the greatest shocks that ever man experienced. On his return from Moscow or Leipsic, after he had communicated the disastrous event in the Council of State, he said:—“It has been reported in Paris that this misfortune turned my hair grey; but you see it is not so (pointing to his head); and I hope I shall be able to support many other reverses.” But these prodigious exertions are made only, as it were, in despite of his physical powers, which never appear less susceptible than when his mind is in full activity.
The Emperor eats very irregularly, but generally very little. He often says that a man may hurt himself by eating too much, but never by eating too little. He will remain four-and-twenty hours without eating, only to get an appetite for the ensuing day. But if he eats little, he drinks still less. A single glass of Madeira or Champaign is sufficient to restore his strength, and to produce cheerfulness of spirits. He sleeps very little and very irregularly, generally rising at daybreak to read or write, and afterwards lying down to sleep again.
The Emperor has no faith in medicine, and never takes any. He had adopted
