22nd.—The Emperor came to my apartment about 10 o’clock, and took me out to walk. We all breakfasted under the trees. The weather was delightful, and the heat, though great, was not unwholesome. The Emperor ordered his calash; two of us were with him, and the third accompanied us on horseback. The Grand Marshal could not attend. The Emperor recurred to some misunderstanding which had taken place among us a few days before. He took a view of our situation and our natural wants;—“You are bound,” said he, “when you are one day restored to the world, to consider yourselves as brothers, on my account. My memory will dictate this conduct to you. Be so, then, from this moment!” He next described how we might be of mutual advantage to each other, the sufferings we had it in our power to alleviate, &c. It was, at once, a family and moral lesson, a lesson of feeling and conduct. It ought to have been written in letters of gold. It lasted nearly an hour and a quarter, and will, I think, never be forgotten by any of us. For myself, not only the principles and the words, but the tone, the expression, the action, and above all, the heart with which he delivered them, will never be forgotten by me.
About five o’clock, the Emperor entered my apartment where I was employed with my son, on the chapter of the battle of Arcole. He had something to say to me, and I followed him to the garden, where he resumed, at great length, the conversation that had taken place in the calash....
We now dined in the old topographical cabinet, adjoining to that of the Emperor, and the apartment formerly occupied by Montholon’s family, which, with the help of the books and shelves lately received from England, was converted into a tolerable library.
As the damage done by the fire in the saloon was long in repairing, we were obliged to continue at table in our new dining-room until the Emperor withdrew. This circumstance, however, gave additional interest to the conversation.
The Emperor was very communicative to-day. The conversation turned on dreams, presentiments, and foresights, which the English call second sight. We exhausted every common-place topic, ordinarily connected with these objects, and came at last to speak of sorcerers and ghosts. The Emperor concluded with observing, “All these quackeries, and many others, such as those of Cagliostro, Mesmer, Gall, Lavater, &c. are destroyed by this sole and simple argument: All that may exist, but it does not exist.
“Man is fond of the marvellous; it has for him irresistible fascinations; he is ever ready to abandon what is near at hand, to run after what is fabricated for him. He voluntarily gives way to delusion. The truth is, that every thing about us is a wonder. There is nothing which can be properly called a phenomenon. Every thing in nature is a phenomenon. My existence is a phenomenon. The wood that is put on the fire and warms me, is a phenomenon; that candle yonder, which gives me light, is a phenomenon. All the first causes, my understanding, my faculties, are phenomena; for they all exist and we cannot define them. I take leave of you here,” said he, “and lo! I am at Paris, entering my box at the Opera. I bow to the audience; I hear their acclamations; I see the performers; I listen to the music. But if I can bound over the distance from Saint Helena, why should I not bound over the distance of centuries? Why should I not see the future as well as the past? Why should the one be more extraordinary, more wonderful, than the other? The only reason is, that it does not exist. This is the argument which will always annihilate, without the possibility of reply, all visionary wonders. All these quacks deal in very ingenious speculations; their reasoning may be just and seductive, but their conclusions are false, because they are unsupported by facts.
“Mesmer and Mesmerism have never recovered from the blow dealt at them by the report of Bailly on behalf of the Academy of Sciences. Mesmer produced effects upon a person by magnetizing him to his face, yet the same person, magnetized behind, without his knowing it, experienced no effect whatever. It was therefore, on his part, an error of the imagination, a debility of the senses; it was the act of the somnabule[somnabule], who, at night runs along the roof without danger, because he is not afraid; but who would break his neck in the day, because his senses would confound him.
“I once attacked the quack Puységur, on his somnabulism[somnabulism], at one of my public audiences. He would have assumed a very lofty tone: I brought him down to his proper level with only these words: If your doctrine is so instructive, let it tell us something new! Mankind will, no doubt, make very great progress in the next two hundred years; let it specify any single improvement which is to take place within that period! Let it tell me what I shall do within the following week! Let it declare the numbers of the lottery, which will be drawn to-morrow!
“I behaved in the same manner to Gall, and contributed very much to the discredit of his theory. Corvisart was his principal follower. He and his colleagues have a great propensity to materialism, which is calculated to strengthen their theory and influence. But nature is not so poor. Were she so clumsy as to make herself known by external forms, we should do our business more promptly and know a great deal more. Her secrets are more subtle, more delicate, more evanescent, and have hitherto escaped the most minute researches. We find a great genius in a little hunchback; and a man, with a fine commanding person, turns out to be a stupid fellow. A big head, with a large brain, is sometimes destitute of a single idea; while a small brain is found to possess a vast understanding. And observe the imbecility of Gall. He attributes to certain protuberances propensities and crimes, which are not in nature, but arise solely from society and the conventional usages of mankind. What would become of the protuberance of theft, if there were no property; of drunkenness, if there were no fermented liquors; and of ambition, if there were no society?
“The same remarks apply to that egregious charlatan, Lavater, with his physical and moral relations. Our credulity lies in the defect of our nature. It is inherent in us to wish for the acquisition of positive ideas, when we ought, on the contrary, to be carefully on our guard against them. We scarcely look at a man’s features, before we pretend to know his character. We should be wise enough to repel the idea and to neutralize those deceitful appearances. I was robbed by a person who had grey eyes, and from that moment am I never to look at grey eyes without the idea, the fear, of being robbed? A weapon wounded me, and I am afraid of it wherever I see it; but was it the grey eyes that robbed me? Reason and experience, and I have been enabled to derive great benefit from both, prove that all those external signs are so many lies; that we cannot be too strictly on our guard against them, and that the only true way of appreciating and gaining a thorough knowledge of mankind is by trying and associating with them. After all, we meet with countenances so hideous, it must be allowed,” (and as an instance he described one; it was that of the governor,) “that the most powerful understanding is confounded, and condemns them in spite of itself.”