The Emperor burst into fits of laughter, particularly when the mules and canteens were mentioned. He then added; “You were of course accustomed to say a great many foolish things about me.”—“O yes, Sire, and in vast abundance.” “Very well! We are alone; nobody will intrude; tell me some more of them.” “A fine gentleman, who had formerly been a captain of cavalry, and who seemed perfectly satisfied with his own person and accomplishments, was introduced to a select society where I was present. ‘I come,’ he said, ‘from the Plain of Sablons. I have just seen our Ostrogoth manœuvre.’ That, Sire, was your Majesty. ‘He had two or three regiments, which he threw into confusion upon each other, and they were all lost in some bushes. I would have taken him and all his men prisoners with fifty maitres (formerly troopers) only. An usurped reputation!’ he exclaimed. ‘Accordingly, Moreau was always of opinion, that he would fail in Germany. A war with Germany is talked of; if it takes place, we shall see how he will get out of it. He will have justice done to him.’

“The war took place, and your Majesty sent us, in a very few days, the bulletin of Ulm, and that of Austerlitz; our fine gentleman again made his appearance in the same company, and for the moment, in spite of our malevolence, we could not help crying out all at once: ‘And your fifty maitres!’ ‘Oh! truly,’ said he, ‘it is impossible to comprehend the thing; this man triumphs over every obstacle: Fortune leads him by the hand, and, besides, the Austrians are so awkward; such fools!’”...

The Emperor laughed heartily, and wished for some anecdote still more absurd. “That would indeed, Sire, be very difficult to find. I recollect, however, an old dowager, who, to the day of her death, obstinately refused to give credit to any of your successes in Germany. When Ulm, Austerlitz, and your entrance into Vienna were mentioned in her presence:—‘So, you believe all that,‘ said she, shrugging up her shoulders. ‘It is all his fabrication. He would not presume to set a foot in Germany; be assured, that he is still behind the Rhine, where he is perishing from fear, and sends us those silly stories: you will learn, in time, that I am not to be imposed upon.’”

And these stories being over, the Emperor sent me away, saying: “What are they doing, what must they say, at present? I am certainly now giving them a fine opportunity.”

22nd.—This was a day of real mourning for me: it was the first, since our departure from France, in which I did not see the Emperor. I was the only one, in consequence of fortunate circumstances, who, until now, had enjoyed that happiness. His sufferings were great, and his seclusion complete. He did not ask to see a single person.

THE EMPEROR CONTINUES ILL.—REMARKABLE OFFICIAL
DOCUMENT, ADDRESSED TO SIR HUDSON LOWE.

23d.—The weather has continued wet and rainy. About half-past three, the Emperor sent for me to his chamber. He was dressing himself; he had been very seriously indisposed, but, thanks to his mode of treating himself, he said, and to his hermetical seclusion of the preceding day, his complaint was over. He was again well.

I dared to express my sincere grief; I had inscribed, I said, an unhappy day in my journal; I should have marked it in red ink. And when he learned what it was: “What indeed,” he said, “is it the only day, since we left France, in which you have not seen me?... And you are the only one!...” And after a silence of some seconds, he added, in a tone peculiarly adapted to make me amends, if that were possible; “But, my dear Las Cases, if you set such a value on it, if you consider it of so much moment, why did you not come and knock at my door? I am not inaccessible to you.”

The Doctor was introduced; he assured us that the Governor had promised never again to set foot at Longwood. It was ironically observed by one of us that he began to make himself agreeable.

The Emperor then went to his library, where a long letter which I had written to Rome,[[9]] was read to him by my son. He was driven out by the wet, and, on his way to the saloon and billiard-room, he was tempted by the sight of the steps to walk a little. “I know,” he said, “I am doing what is not prudent.” Luckily, the wet weather forced him to return almost instantly. He took a seat in the saloon, where there was a good fire, called for infusion of orange-leaves, and played some games of chess.