The conversation continuing on the two orientals, I mentioned that I had been informed the Arch-chancellor Cambacérès once gave them a grand dinner. Though both from the same quarter, and members of the same religion, yet they nevertheless evinced shades of character totally different. The Turk, who was a disciple of Omar, was the Jansenist, and the Persian, who was a sectary of Ali, was the Jesuit. It was said that, at Cambacérès’ dinner, they scrupulously watched each other with regard to the wine, just as two Catholic Bishops seated at the same table might be expected to keep a vigilant look out, lest either should be tempted to eat meat on a Friday.
The Turk was gloomy and ignorant, and was looked upon as little better than a brute; but the Persian possessed literary information, was very talkative, and had the reputation of being a clever man. It was observed that he made no use of a knife and fork, either in eating or helping himself to any dish at table; and he probably would not have hesitated to help his neighbours in the same unceremonious way. One of our customs particularly attracted his notice; this was our practice of eating bread with every dish. He said he could not conceive why we were obliged always to eat the same article with every thing.
I believe I have already remarked that nothing amuses the Emperor so much as accounts of the fashionable world in Paris, anecdotes of our drawing-rooms, &c.
The Emigrants and the Faubourg St. Germain were subjects on which he was always fond of conversing with me when we were alone, and he accounted for this by saying to me once, “I was well acquainted with every thing that had relation to myself, but I never knew any thing of those affairs.” He observed, that he had nevertheless a natural desire to learn every thing that was passing near him, and to hear the chit-chat of little towns, &c. “I heard a great deal on these subjects,” added he, “during the period of my power; but whenever any thing favourable was said, I put myself on my guard—I was fearful of insinuations; and if, on the contrary, any thing unfavourable was reported to me, I mistrusted the accusation, and had enough to do to guard against a feeling of contempt. Here, my dear Las Cases, none of these disadvantages exist; you and I already belong to the other world; we are conversing in the Elysian fields: you are without interested views, and I am without suspicion.” I therefore eagerly seized every opportunity that offered itself to entertain the Emperor in this way. He perceived this, and gave me credit for my intentions; for, at the conclusion of one of my stories, he pinched my ear, and said, in a tone of voice which delighted me: “I read a story in your Atlas of a Northern Monarch who was immured in a prison, and one of his soldiers solicited and obtained permission to be imprisoned with him, in order that he might cheer his spirits, either by inducing him to converse, or by relating amusing stories to him. My dear Las Cases, you are that soldier.”...
On the present occasion I described to the Emperor the hoax which had been played upon M. de Marbois, and which he had not heard of before. It was as follows: one day, as the story goes, Asker-Kan, who was indisposed, and tired of his Persian treatment, gave orders to send for M. Bourdois, one of the first physicians in Paris. The messenger made a mistake, and went to M. de Marbois, Ex-minister of the Treasury, and at that time President of the Court of Accounts.—"His Excellency the Persian Ambassador," said he, “is very ill, and wishes to see you.” M. de Marbois could not conceive what business the Persian Ambassador could possibly have with him: but Asker-Kan was the envoy of a great Prince, and there is nothing which vanity will not contrive to reconcile. He proceeded with great pomp to the Ambassador’s residence; and it must be allowed that there was nothing in his dress, physiognomy, or deportment, at all likely to undeceive the Persian, who, as soon as he saw him, thrust out his tongue, and stretching forth his arm, motioned him to feel his pulse. These extraordinary gestures astonished M. de Marbois, but he thought they might be some oriental fashion. He took the hand which was offered, and pressed it cordially, when four attendants entered with solemnity, and presented to the Ex-minister a vessel of a very unequivocal nature, for his better information on the state of the patient. At this spectacle, the grave M. de Marbois flew into a violent passion, and asked what was the meaning of this extraordinary behaviour. The mistake was explained; it was M. Bourdois who had been wanted, and the similarity in the sound of the two names had alone occasioned the error. Poor M. de Marbois was the laughing-stock of Paris, and for a long time he could not show his face any where without exciting merriment.
“The drawing-rooms of Paris are indeed tremendous with their jokes!” said the Emperor, “for it cannot be denied that they are for the most part pointed and witty. They always assail the enemy at the breach, and a total defeat is the usual consequence.”—"It is true," said I, “nothing was spared. Even religion was not held sacred, and your Majesty may well suppose that neither you nor the Empress escaped.”—"I dare say not," replied the Emperor, “but no matter; what was said of us?”—“It was reported. Sire, that one day your Majesty, being much dissatisfied at the perusal of a despatch from Vienna, said to the Empress, in a moment of ill-humour, Your father is a blockhead (votre père est une ganache). Maria Louisa, who was unacquainted with many French phrases, turned to the person nearest her, and, observing that the Emperor had called her Father a ganache, asked what the term meant. The courtier, embarrassed at this unexpected interrogatory, stammered out that the word signified a clever man, a man of judgment, and extraordinary talent. Some time afterwards, the Empress, with her newly learnt term fresh in her memory, was present at the Council of State, and the discussion, becoming somewhat warm, in order to put a stop to it, she called on M. Cambacérès, who was yawning by her side....—‘You must set us right on this important point,’ said she, ‘you shall be our oracle; for I consider you as the greatest ganache in the Empire.’” At these words the Emperor held his sides with laughter. “What a pity,” said he, “that this anecdote is not true! Only imagine the scene. The offended dignity of Cambacérès, the merriment of the whole council, and the embarrassment of poor Maria Louisa, alarmed at the success of her unconscious joke.”
The conversation continued for a long time in this way, and I spent about two hours with the Emperor; I had exerted myself to talk as much as I possibly could to divert him, and I had succeeded. The Emperor felt his spirits revived, he even enjoyed a hearty laugh. When he dismissed me, he felt much better, and I was happy at the change.
SECOND DAY OF SECLUSION.—THE EMPEROR RECEIVES THE GOVERNOR IN HIS CHAMBER.—CHARACTERISTIC CONVERSATION.
30th.—To-day I and my son were engaged to dine at Mr. Balcombe’s at the Briars. About half past three, I went to receive the Emperor’s commands: he was the same as yesterday, and did not intend to go out.
Just before I had reached Hut’s Gate, the residence of Madame Bertrand, I met the Governor on his way to Longwood. He asked me how the Emperor was. I told him that I felt uneasy about him, and that he had not seen any of us yesterday. I added that though he had told me this morning he was well, yet from his countenance I should have expected a different account.