ALARMING CHANGE IN THE EMPEROR.—THE GOVERNOR SURROUNDS US WITH FORTIFICATIONS.—PANIC TERRORS OF SIR HUDSON LOWE.—GENERAL LAMARQUE.—MADAME RECAMIER AND A PRUSSIAN PRINCE.
15th.—About three o’clock, the Emperor, with whom I breakfasted this morning, sent for me. He wished to take the air, and he endeavoured to walk as far as the wood; but the air was too keen for him. He then called at the Grand Marshal’s, and he sat for a considerable time in an arm-chair, apparently quite exhausted. We remarked the colour of his countenance, how much he had fallen away, and his evident debility; and we were much distressed at the change observable in him.
As we passed through the wood, the Emperor cast his eyes on the fortifications which were surrounding us; and he could not forbear smiling at these useless and absurd works. He remarked that the ground in our neighbourhood had been entirely disfigured by the removal of the kind of turf with which it was covered, and which had been carried away for the purpose of raising banks. In fact, for the last two months, the Governor has been incessantly digging ditches, constructing parapets, erecting palisades, &c. He has quite blockaded us in Longwood, and the stable at this moment presents every appearance of a redoubt. We are at a loss to guess where will be the advantage equivalent to the expense and labour bestowed on these works, which by turns excite the ill-humour and ridicule of the soldiers and Chinese, who are employed upon them, and who now call Longwood and its stable, by the names of Fort Hudson and Fort Lowe. We are assured that Sir Hudson Lowe often starts from his sleep to devise new measures of security. “Surely,” said the Emperor, “this seems something like madness. Why cannot the man sleep quietly, and let us alone? Has he not sense enough to perceive that the security of our local situation here is sufficient to remove all his panic terrors?”—“Sire,” said an individual present, “he cannot forget Capri, which, with 2000 men, thirty pieces of cannon, and perched among the clouds, was taken by 1200 Frenchmen, commanded by the brave Lamarque, who could only reach Sir Hudson Lowe by the help of a triple escalade.”—“Well,” said the Emperor, “this only proves that our Governor is a better jailor than general.”
For some time past, I have felt seriously alarmed respecting the health of my son. The pains of which he formerly complained have been succeeded by violent palpitations, attended by fainting fits; and he is frequently obliged to rise during the night, to relieve himself by walking about, or assuming some particular position. Dr. O’Meara thought he perceived symptoms of aneurism, and considered him to be in a dangerous state. I requested the chief medical officer. Dr. Baxter, to hold a consultation with Dr. O’Meara. The result greatly relieved my anxiety; for his state was declared to have nothing in it very alarming.
During the conversations of the day, the Emperor alluded to Madame de Staël, of whom, however, he said nothing new, except mentioning some letters which had been examined by the police, and which related to Madame Recamier and a Prussian Prince.
“This correspondence,” said the Emperor, “presented unequivocal proofs of the influence of Madame Recamier’s charms, and the high regard which the Prince entertained for her. The letters contained nothing less than offers or promises of marriage on his part.”
The following is an explanation of this affair. The beautiful Madame Recamier, whose pure reputation stood unassailed during those stormy times in which few escaped censure, was residing with Madame de Staël, to whom she had heroically devoted herself, when one of the Prussian Princes, who had been made prisoner at Eylau, and who was proceeding to Italy by Napoleon’s permission, alighted at the castle of Coppet, with the intention of resting only for a few hours. Here, however, he was detained during the whole of the summer by the charms of Madame Recamier, who was voluntarily sharing the exile of her friend. This lady, and the young Prince, both considered themselves as the victims of Napoleon, and their common hatred of him, whom they looked upon as their oppressor, probably engendered the interest which they mutually conceived for each other. Inspired with an ardent passion, the Prince, in spite of the difficulties which his exalted rank naturally suggested, conceived the idea of marrying Madame Recamier. He communicated his design to Madame de Staël, whose poetic imagination prompted her to favour a scheme that was calculated to diffuse a sort of romantic interest over Coppet. The Prince was recalled to Berlin, but absence produced no change in his sentiments. He still ardently prosecuted his suit; but Madame Recamier constantly declined this unexpected elevation, either from natural generosity of feeling, or from her Catholic prejudice against divorce.
To this circumstance we are indebted for the picture of Corinne, which is accounted one of the most original creations of Gerard’s pencil. The Prince ordered the picture as a compliment to Madame Recamier.
Having reverted to Madame de Staël, I will take this opportunity of observing that since the publication of the preceding parts of my Journal, I have been visited by some of the most intimate friends of that celebrated woman. These individuals have assured me that Madame de Staël has been often represented to have employed expressions in reference to Napoleon, of which she was wholly incapable,—for example, the phrase Robespierre on horseback, which they said they could take upon themselves conscientiously to disavow. I have moreover been informed that Madame de Staël was often more favourable to Napoleon in her private conversation than in her writings, which, it must be confessed, are, in all that relates to the Emperor, embittered by a spirit of malignity and resentment. One of her friends assured me that he had been very much gratified on finding it mentioned in my Journal that Napoleon at St. Helena had compared Madame de Staël at once to Armida and Clorinda I was informed that Madame de Staël, on her part, at the time of her enthusiasm for the young General of the army of Italy, had compared him at once to Scipio and Tancred; because, as she said, he combined the simple virtues of the one with the brilliant achievements of the other.
After dinner, the Emperor ordered his favourite Racine to be brought out, and he read to us some of the finest passages in Iphigenia, Mithridates, and Bajazet. “Though Racine has produced master-pieces in themselves,” said he, “yet he has diffused over them a perpetual air of insipidity. Love is eternally introduced, with its tone of languor and its tiresome accompaniments. But these faults must not be attributed entirely to Racine, but to the manners of the age in which he wrote. Love was then, and at even a later period, the whole business of life with every one. This is always the case when society is in a state of idleness. As for us,” said he, “our thoughts have been cruelly turned to other subjects, by the great events of the revolution.”
The Emperor likewise condemned, by the way, the whole of the celebrated plan of campaign of Mithridates. He remarked that it might be fine as a narrative; but that it was absurd as a conception.