The French Ministers, &C.—Anecdote of M. Daru.—Faded Finery at St. Helena

Sunday, September 1st.—The Emperor went out about three o’clock: he said that he had felt feeble, languid, and dull the whole of the day. We all felt indisposed in the same way: it was the effect of the weather. We strolled out to the great path in the wood, while the calash was preparing; but no sooner had we reached the extremity of the path than a shower of rain came on. It was so heavy that the Emperor was obliged to take refuge at the foot of a gum-tree, the scanty foliage of which, however, afforded but little shelter. The calash soon arrived to take us up; and we were returning home with all speed, when we perceived the Governor, at some distance, making towards us. The Emperor immediately ordered the coachman to turn, observing, that of two evils he would choose the least; and we took a circuitous route homewards, in spite of the wind and rain. We, however, escaped Sir Hudson Lowe: that was an advantage.

Before dinner, the Emperor, in his chamber, took a review of the individuals who had been attached to his Household, the Council of State, and the different ministerial departments. Alluding to M. Daru, he observed that he was a man distinguished for probity and for indefatigable application to business. At the retreat from Moscow, M. Daru’s firmness and presence of mind were remarkable, and the Emperor often afterwards said that he laboured like an ox, while he displayed the courage of a lion.

Business seemed to be M. Daru’s element; he was incessantly occupied. Soon after he was appointed Secretary of State, one of his friends was expressing a fear that the immense business in which he would thenceforth be absorbed might prove too much for him. “On the contrary,” replied Daru, “I assure you that, since I have entered upon my new functions, I seem to have absolutely nothing to do.” On one occasion only was his vigour ever known to relax. The Emperor called him up, after midnight, to write from his dictation: M. Daru was so completely overcome by fatigue that he scarcely knew what he was writing; at length he could hold out no longer, and he fell asleep over his paper. After enjoying a sound nap, he awoke, and, to his astonishment, perceived the Emperor by his side quietly engaged in writing. The shortness of the candles informed him that his slumber had been of considerable duration. While he sat for a few moments overwhelmed with confusion, his eyes met those of the Emperor, who said to him: “Well, Sir, you see I have been doing your work, since you would not do it yourself. I suppose you have eaten a hearty supper, and passed a pleasant evening; but business must not be neglected.”—“I pass a pleasant evening, Sire!” said M. Daru. “I have been for several nights without sleep, and closely engaged. Of this your Majesty now sees the consequence, and I am exceedingly sorry for it.”—“Why did you not inform me of this?” said the Emperor, “I do not want to kill you. Go to bed. Good night, M. Daru.” This was certainly a characteristic trait, and one that was well calculated to remove the false notions which were generally entertained respecting Napoleon’s harshness of temper. But I know not by what fatality facts of this kind were concealed from our knowledge, while any absurd inventions unfavourable to the Emperor were so actively circulated. Was it because the courtiers reserved their flattery for the interior of the palace, and sought to create a sort of counterpoise, by assuming elsewhere an air of opposition and independence? Be this as it may, had any individual related traits of the above kind in the saloons of Paris, he would probably have been told that he had invented them, or would have been looked upon as a fool for giving credit to them.

The Grand Marshal and his lady came to dine at Longwood, which they were accustomed to do every Sunday.

During dinner, the Emperor jokingly alluded to the faded finery of the ladies. He said that their dresses would soon resemble the gay trappings of those old misers who purchase their wardrobes from the dealers in second-hand clothes; they no longer displayed the freshness and elegance that characterized the millinery of Leroi, Despeaux, Herbault, &c. The ladies craved indulgence for St. Helena; and their husbands reminded the Emperor of his fastidiousness with regard to female dress at the Tuileries, which, it was remarked, had proved the ruin of some families. At this the Emperor laughed, and said that the idea of his scrupulous taste in dress was a mere invention of the ladies of the Court, who made it a pretence, or an excuse, for their extravagance. The conversation then turned on our splendour at St. Helena. The Emperor said that he had told Marchand he would wear every day the hunting-coat which he then had on, until it was completely worn out: it was already very far gone.

Both before and after dinner the Emperor played a few games at chess: he felt low-spirited and nervous, and retired to bed early.