Part 37
7th.—The Emperor mounted his horse at a very early hour; he told me again to call my son to accompany him. The evening before, the Emperor seeing him on horseback, had asked me if I did not make him learn to groom his horse; that nothing was more useful; that he had given
## particular orders for it in the military school at St. Germain. I was
vexed that such an idea had escaped me; I seized it eagerly, and my son still more so. He was at this moment on a horse that no one had touched but himself. The Emperor, whom I informed of it, seemed pleased, and condescended to make him go through a sort of little examination. Our ride lasted nearly two hours and a half, rambling all the time about Longwood.
At our return the Emperor had breakfast in the garden, to which he detained us all.
A short time before dinner, I presented myself as usual in the drawing-room: the Emperor was playing at chess with the Grand Marshal. The valet-de-chambre in waiting at the door of the room brought me a letter, on which was written _Very urgent_. Out of respect to the Emperor, I went aside to read it: it was in English; it stated that I had composed an excellent work; that, nevertheless, it was not without faults; that if I would correct them in a new edition, no doubt the work would be more valuable for it; and then went on to pray that God would keep me in his gracious and holy protection. Such a letter excited my astonishment, and made me rather angry; the colour rushed to my face: I did not, at first, give myself time to consider the writing. In reading it over again I recognised the hand, notwithstanding its being much better written than usual, and I could not help laughing a good deal to myself. But the Emperor, who cast a side-glance at me, asked me from whom the letter came that was given to me. I replied, that it was a paper that had caused a very different feeling in me at first from that which it would leave permanently. I said this with so much simplicity, the mystification had been so complete, that he laughed till tears came in his eyes. The letter was from him; the pupil had a mind to jest with his master, and try his powers at his expense. I carefully preserve this letter; the gaiety, the style, and the whole circumstance, render it more valuable to me than any diploma the Emperor could have put into my hands when he was in power.
AN OPPORTUNITY FOR THE EMPEROR TO MAKE USE OF HIS ENGLISH.—ON MEDICINE.—CORVISART.—DEFINITION.—ON THE PLAGUE.—MEDICAL PRACTICE IN BABYLON.
8th.—The Emperor had had no sleep during the night; he had, therefore, amused himself with writing me another letter in English; he sent it to me sealed; I corrected the errors in it, and sent him an answer also in English, by the return of the courier. He understood me perfectly: this convinced him of the progress he had made, and satisfied him that for the future he could, strictly speaking, correspond in his new tongue.
For nearly a fortnight past, General Gourgaud had been unwell; his indisposition had turned to a very malignant dysentery, which occasioned some alarm. The Admiral now sent him the Surgeon of the Northumberland (Dr. Warden); the Emperor detained this gentleman to dinner. During the repast, and for a long time afterwards, the conversation was exclusively on medicine; sometimes lively, sometimes serious and profound. The Emperor was in good spirits: he talked with great volubility; he overwhelmed the Doctor with questions, and with ingenious and subtle arguments, that perplexed him much: the latter was much dazzled by this brilliancy; so that, after dinner, he took me aside to ask me how it happened that the Emperor was so well informed on these matters: he did not doubt but they were his usual topics of conversation. “Not more than any thing else,” I said, with truth; “but there are few subjects with which the Emperor is unacquainted, and he treats them all in a new and engaging manner.”
The Emperor has no faith in medicine, or its remedies, of which he makes no use. “Doctor,” said he, “our body is a machine for the purpose of life: it is organized to that end—that is its nature. Leave the life there at its ease, let it take care of itself, it will do better than if you paralyze it by loading it with medicines. It is like a well-made watch, destined to go for a certain time; the watch-maker has not the power of opening it, he cannot meddle with it but at random, and with his eyes bandaged. For one who, by dint of racking it with his ill-formed instruments, succeeds in doing it any good, how many blockheads destroy it altogether!”
The Emperor, then, did not admit the utility of medicine but in a few cases, in disorders that were known and distinctly ascertained by time and experience: and he then compared the art of the physician with that of the engineer in regular sieges, where the maxims of Vauban, and the rules of experience, have brought all the chances within the scope of known laws. In accordance, too, with these principles, the Emperor had conceived the idea of a law which should have allowed to the mass of medical practitioners in France the use of simple medicines only, and forbidden them to employ _heroic_ remedies, that is, such as may cause death, unless they made three or four thousand francs, at least, by their profession; which, said he, afforded grounds for supposing them to have education, judgment, and a certain public reputation. “This measure,” said he, “was certainly just and beneficent; but in my circumstances it was unseasonable: information was not yet sufficiently diffused. No doubt the mass of the people would have seen only an act of tyranny in the law, which, nevertheless, would have rescued them from their executioners.”
The Emperor had frequently attacked the celebrated Corvisart, his physician, upon the subject of medicine. The latter, waving the honour of the profession and of his colleagues, confessed that he entertained nearly the same opinions, and even acted upon them. He was a great enemy to medicines, and employed them very sparingly: the Empress Maria-Louisa, suffering much during her pregnancy, and teazing him for relief, he artfully gave her some pills composed of crumb of bread, which she observed did her a great deal of good.
The Emperor said he had brought Corvisart to admit that medicine was a resource available only for the few; that it might be of some benefit to the rich, but that it was the scourge of the poor. “Now, do you not believe,” said the Emperor, “seeing the uncertainty of the art itself, and the ignorance of those who practise it, that its effects, taken in the aggregate, are more fatal than useful to the people?” Corvisart assented without hesitation. “But have you never killed any body yourself?” continued the Emperor, “that is to say, have not some patients died evidently in consequence of your prescriptions?”—“Undoubtedly,” replied Corvisart; “but I ought no more to let that weigh upon my conscience than would your Majesty, if you had caused the destruction of some troops, not from having made a bad movement, but because their march was impeded by a ditch or a precipice, which it was impossible for you to be aware of.”
Thence the Emperor went on to some problems and definitions, which he proposed to the Doctor. “What is life?” said he to him; “when and how do we receive it? Is that any thing but mystery yet?” Then he defined harmless madness to be a chasm or incoherence of judgment between just ideas and the application of them: an insane man eats grapes in a vineyard that is not his own; and, in reply to the expostulations of the owner says:—“Here are two of us; the sun sees both of us; therefore I have a right to eat the grapes.” The dangerous madman was he in whom this chasm or incoherence of judgment occurred between ideas and actions: it was he who cut off the head of a sleeping man, and concealed himself behind a hedge, to enjoy the perplexity of the dead body when it should awake.
The Emperor next asked the Doctor what was the difference between sleep and death; and answered the question himself by saying that sleep was the momentary suspension of the faculties within the power of our volition; and death the lasting suspension, not only of these faculties, but also of those over which our will has no control.
From that, the conversation turned upon the plague. The Emperor maintained that it was taken by inspiration as well as by contact: he said that it was rendered most dangerous and most extensively propagated, by fear: its principal seat was in the imagination. In Egypt, all those in whom that (the imagination) was affected, perished. The most prudent remedy was moral courage. He had touched with impunity, he said, some infected persons at Jaffa, and had saved many lives by deceiving the soldiers, during two months, as to the nature of the disease: it was not the plague, they were told, but a fever accompanied with ulcers. Moreover, he had observed that the best means to preserve the army from it were to keep them on the march, and give them, plenty of exercise: fatigue, and the employment of the mind upon other subjects, were found the surest protection.[32]
Footnote 32:
It is mentioned in the Memoirs of M. Larre, as a phenomenon, or at least something remarkable, that the pressure of circumstances during the retreat from Saint-Jean-d’Acre, having rendered it necessary to reduce the food of the sick to some plain thin biscuits, and their dressings to some brackish water, these invalids traversed sixty leagues of Desert without accidents, and with so much advantage that the greater part found themselves well when they arrived in Egypt. He attributes this species of prodigy to the exercise, direct or indirect, to the dry heat of the Desert, and above all to the joy of returning to a country which had become a sort of new home to the soldiers.
The Emperor also said to the Doctor—“If Hippocrates were on a sudden to enter your hospital, would he not be much astonished? would he adopt your maxims and your methods? would he not find fault with you? On your part should you understand his language? should you at all comprehend each other?”—He concluded by pleasantly extolling the practice of medicine in Babylon, where the patients were exposed at the door, and the relations, sitting near them, stopped the passengers to enquire if they had ever been afflicted in a similar way, and what had cured them. One had at least the certainty, said he, of escaping all those whose remedies had killed them.
9th.—I was breakfasting with the Emperor, after our English lesson, when I received a letter from my wife that filled me with joy and gratitude. She said, that neither fear, fatigue, nor distance, could prevent her joining me; that, separated from me, she could experience no happiness, and that she was only waiting for the proper season. Admirable devotion! superior to all that we have manifested here, inasmuch as it is exerted with a perfect knowledge of all its consequences. I cannot think that in England they will have the cruelty to refuse her: what does she solicit? favours, interest? No; she begs to share the lot of an exile on a solitary rock; to fulfil a duty, and to testify her affection!—How far was I from forming a just estimate of the hearts and minds of those who detained us! Madame de Las Cases found herself constantly repulsed: sometimes under various pretexts; sometimes even without an answer. At last, and as if to rid himself of her importunity, Lord Bathurst caused her to be informed, in the beginning of 1817, that she should be permitted to go to the Cape of Good Hope (500 leagues beyond St. Helena), whence “if the Governor of St. Helena (Sir Hudson Lowe) sees no objection, she shall be allowed to join her husband.”
I leave, without comment, this specimen of ill-timed pleasantry to the consideration of any one who has the feelings of a man. This letter came by the Owen Glendower frigate, which arrived from the Cape, and brought us at the same time the European papers to December 4.
TRIAL OF NEY.—THE EMPEROR’S CARRIAGE TAKEN AT WATERLOO.—THE INTERVIEW AT DRESDEN.—ON THE CAPRICE OF WOMEN.
10th—12th. The weather had now changed to those miserable pelting rains which scarcely permitted us to walk in the garden; fortunately we had newspapers to occupy our time. At length I had the satisfaction of seeing the Emperor read them without assistance.
These papers contained many details relating to the trial of Marshal Ney, which was at that time in progress. With reference to this, the Emperor said that the horizon was gloomy; that the unfortunate Marshal was certainly in great danger; but that we must not however despair. “The King undoubtedly believes himself quite sure of the Peers,” said he; “they are certainly violent enough, firmly resolved, highly incensed; but for all that, suppose the slightest incident, some new rumour, or I know not what: then you would see, in spite of all the efforts of the King, and of what they believe to be the interest of their cause, the Chamber of Peers would, all on a sudden, take it into their heads not to find him guilty; and thus Ney may be saved.”
This led the Emperor to dilate upon our volatile, fickle, and changeable disposition. “All the French,” said he, “are turbulent, and disposed to rail; but they are not addicted to seditious combinations, still less to actual conspiracy. Their levity is so natural to them, their changes so sudden, that it may be said to be a national dishonour. They are mere weathercocks, the sport of the winds, it is true; but this vice is with them free from the calculations of interest, and that is their best excuse. But we must only be understood to speak here of the mass, of that which constitutes public opinion; for individual examples to the contrary have swarmed in our latter times, that exhibit certain classes in the most disgusting state of meanness.”
It was this knowledge of the national character, the Emperor continued, that had always prevented his having recourse to the High Court. It was instituted by our Constitution; the Council of State had even decreed its organization; but the Emperor felt all the danger of the bustle and agitation that such spectacles always produce. “Such a proceeding,” he said, “was in reality an appeal to the public, and was always highly injurious to authority, when the accused gained the cause. A Ministry in England might sustain, without inconvenience, the effects of a decision against it under such circumstances; but a sovereign like me, and situated as I was, could not have suffered it without the utmost danger to public affairs: for this reason, I preferred having recourse to the ordinary tribunals. Malevolence often started objections to this; nevertheless, among all those whom it was pleased to call victims, which of them, I ask you, has retained his popularity in our late struggles? They have taken care to justify me: all of them are faded in the national estimation.”
The Emperor had reserved one article in the papers, that he might have my assistance in reading it; it referred to the carriage he lost at Waterloo: the great number of technical expressions rendered it too difficult for him. The editor gave a very circumstantial account of this carriage, with a minutely detailed inventory of all its contents; to this he sometimes added the most frivolous reflections. In mentioning a small liquor-case, he observed that the Emperor never forgot _himself_, but took care to want nothing; in noticing certain elegant appendages to his dressing-case, he added that it might be seen he made his toilet _comme il faut_ (the expression was in French). These last words produced a sensation in the Emperor, which certainly would not have been excited by a more important subject. “How!” said he to me, with a mixture of disgust and pain; “these people of England, then, take me for some wild animal; have they really been led so far as this? or their ——, who is a kind of Ox Apis, as I am assured, does he not pay that attention to his toilet that is considered proper by every person of any education among us?”
It is certain that I should have been a good deal puzzled to explain to him the writer’s meaning. Besides, it is known that the Emperor, of all people in the world, set the least value on his personal convenience, and studied it the least; but, on the other hand, and he acknowledged it with pleasure, there never was one for whom the devotion and attention of servants had been so diligent in that
## particular. As he ate at very irregular hours, they contrived, in the
course of his journeys and campaigns, to have his dinner, similar to what he was accustomed to at the Tuileries, always ready within a few paces of him. He had but to speak, and he was instantly served; he himself said it was magic. During fifteen years he constantly drank a
## particular sort of Burgundy (Chambertin), which he liked and believed
to be wholesome for him: he found this wine provided for him throughout Germany, in the remotest part of Spain, everywhere, even at Moscow; and it may truly be said that art, luxury, the refinement of elegance and good taste, contended around him, as if without his knowledge, to afford him gratification. The English journalists, therefore, described a multitude of objects that were undoubtedly in the carriage; but of which the Emperor had not the slightest notion: not that he was at all surprised at it, he observed.
The bad weather which continued to confine us within doors, had no influence on the disposition of the Emperor, who at this particular time seemed more unreserved and talked more than usual. He spoke at length, and with the most minute details, of the famous interview at Dresden. The following are extracts from his conversation:—
This was the epoch when the power of Napoleon was at its height: he there appeared as the _king of kings_; he was actually obliged to observe that some attention ought to be paid to the Emperor of Austria, his father-in-law. Neither this Sovereign nor the King of Prussia had any household establishment attending them; Alexander had none either at Tilsit or Erfurt. There, as at Dresden, they lived at Napoleon’s table.—“These Courts,” said the Emperor, “were paltry and vulgar.” It was he who regulated the etiquette, and took the lead in them; he made Francis take precedence of him, to his unbounded satisfaction. The luxury and magnificence of Napoleon must have made him appear to them like an Asiatic prince: there, as well as at Tilsit, he loaded all who came near him with diamonds. We informed him that at Dresden he had not a single French soldier about him: and that his Court was sometimes not without apprehensions for the safety of his person. He could scarcely believe us;—but we assured him that it was a fact; that the Saxon body-guard was the only one he had. “It is all one,” he said; “I was then in so good a family, with such worthy people, that I ran no risk; I was beloved by all; and, at this very time, I am sure the good King of Saxony repeats every day a _Pater_ and an _Ave_ for me.” He added, “I ruined the fortunes of that poor Princess Augusta, and I acted very wrong in so doing. Returning from Tilsit, I received, at Marienwerder, a chamberlain of the King of Saxony, who delivered me a letter from his master; he wrote thus: ‘I have just received a letter from the Emperor of Austria, who desires my daughter in marriage; I send this to you, that you may inform me what answer I ought to return.’—‘I shall be at Dresden in a few days,’” was the reply of the Emperor; and, on his arrival, he set his face against the match, and prevented it. “I was very wrong,” repeated he; “I was fearful the Emperor Francis would withdraw the King of Saxony from me: on the contrary, the Princess Augusta would have brought over the Emperor Francis to my side, and I should not now have been here.”
At Dresden, Napoleon was much occupied in business, and Maria-Louisa, anxious to avail herself of the smallest intervals of leisure to be with her husband, scarcely ever went out, lest she should miss them. The Emperor Francis, who did nothing, and tired himself all day with going about the town, could not at all comprehend this family seclusion; he fancied that it was to affect reserve and importance. The Empress of Austria endeavoured to prevail on Maria-Louisa to go out; she represented to her that her constant assiduity was ridiculous. She would willingly have given herself the airs of a step-mother with Maria-Louisa, who was not disposed to suffer it, their ages being nearly the same. She came frequently in the morning to her toilet, ransacking among the luxurious and magnificent objects displayed there: she seldom went out empty-handed.
“The reign of Maria-Louisa was very short,” said the Emperor; “but it must have been full of enjoyment for her; she had the world at her feet.” One of us took the liberty to ask if the Empress of Austria was not the sworn enemy of Maria-Louisa. “Nothing more,” said the Emperor, “than a little regular court-hatred; a thorough detestation in the heart, but glossed over by daily letters of four pages, full of coaxing and tenderness.”
The Empress of Austria was particularly attentive to Napoleon, and took great pains to make much of him while he was present; but no sooner was his back turned, than she endeavoured to detach Maria-Louisa from him by the most mischievous and malicious insinuations; she was vexed that she could not succeed in obtaining some influence over her. “She has, however, address and ability,” said the Emperor, “and that sufficient to embarrass her husband, who had acquired a conviction that she entertained a poor opinion of him. Her countenance was agreeable, engaging, and had something very peculiar in it; she was a pretty little nun.
“As to the Emperor Francis, his good-nature is well known, and makes him constantly the dupe of the designing. His son will be like him.
“The King of Prussia, as a private character, is an honourable, good, and worthy man; but, in his political capacity, he is naturally disposed to yield to necessity: you are his master so long as you have power on your side, and your arm is uplifted to strike.