ANECDOTES.
[Thefollowing anecdotes are selected from a large number, recorded by Miss Knight mostly at the end of her journals. They were either written from her own personal knowledge, or picked up by her in society, and set down at the time in her note-books. They are of unequal interest, and if not all new, are, at all events, authentic.]
Mr. Boswell being asked by Burke why he put so many absurdities into his Life of Dr. Johnson, replied: “You, sir, have been guilty of greater absurdities.” The other defied him to point them out. “Do you remember,” asked Boswell, “when you said in Parliament, ‘We have the best of Kings and the most grateful people?’” Burke replied, “You have reason.”
Boswell was asked by the King how he would ever get through his work on Dr. Johnson. “Sire,” said he, “I have a more difficult task thanthat—how to call the unfortunate grandson of James II., whose adventures in Scotland I propose to narrate.” “Why,” replied the King, “call him the unfortunate grandson of James II.”[126]
Mrs. Piozzi says she has been punished, like a vagabond, by hard labour and a month’s confinement; and nine times in her life she has suffered the same fate.
Lord Nelson says, that when he was seventeen years of age, he won 300l.at a gaming-table; but he was so shocked on reflecting that, had he lost them, he should not have known how to pay them, that from that time to this he has never played again.
When Admiral Nelson’s arm was cut off, the surgeon asked if he should not embalm it, to send it to England to be buried; but he said, “Throw it into the hammock with the brave fellow that was killed beside me”—a common seaman.
As we were going in the Admiral’s barge the other day, looking at the ships and talking of the victory (of the Nile), Sir William Hamilton couldnot be pacified for the French calling it a drawn battle: “Nay, it was a drawn battle,” said the Admiral, “for they drew the blanks and we the prizes.”
The Queen of Naples desired to have a portrait of Nelson. Little Prince Leopold said he would get a copy, and stand continually opposite to it, saying, “Dear Nelson, teach me to become like you.”
Captain Troubridge wrote to condole with Captain Darby, of theBellerophon, for his wounds and the number of people killed in his ship; but added, that had his sufferings been fifty times as much,hehad rather have been in his place than have borne the anguish he felt from running aground and being kept out of the action; that he had found great difficulty in keeping from shooting himself; and that he even then frequently shed tears. Captain Darby and Captain Gould, who was present when he received the letter, both wept.
The estate of Bronté, near Mount Etna, so called from one of the Cyclops, was given by the King to Lord Nelson. It is a Dukedom, with estates valued at between two and three thousand pounds sterling per annum. His Majesty also presented him with a sword set with diamonds which had belonged tohis father, the King of Spain, accompanied by a letter, saying, that as this was the sword with which his father had conquered Naples, it ought to belong to Lord Nelson, who had recovered that kingdom. Every officer who came in with good news received a present from the Queen, of greater or less value, according to the circumstances and his rank in our service. She also gave some very valuable jewels to Lady Hamilton. The Order of St. Ferdinand was instituted by the King for the recovery of his Italian States, and crosses were bestowed upon our officers, and upon the Neapolitan Ministers, and others attached to the Court who had followed the Royal Family to Palermo. A Neapolitan one day remarked that this Order had not been conferred on a single Sicilian. A gentleman of the island being present, and thinking this was said in an invidious manner, replied, “His Majesty is perfectly right to give his new Order to the few Neapolitans who have remained faithful. Had he given it to us, it must have been to every inhabitant of the island, for all have been true to him.” The Sicilians certainly did show great loyalty, and were delighted with the presence of their sovereign, but it must also be remembered that they had a deep-rooted and hereditary dislike to the French. They always spoke with pride of the Sicilian Vespers, and would at any time have been ready to repeat them. Similar feelings prevailed in Sardiniaand Malta, without any historical motive, but there is an independence in the character of islanders which is not easily overcome, unless biased by commercial speculations.
The Turkish squadron, commanded by Cadir Bey, came to Palermo (1799), with two other ships of the line beside his own, under the orders of a Vice and a Rear-Admiral, and a frigate called theEagle of the Sea, the Captain of which was a young man related to the Grand Seignior, whom the Turks called “the mad Prince,” because he was very romantic. I recollect that one day, while walking in the garden, he happened to see my little dog, which he took up in his arms, and recited some verses to it, apparently with great affection. There was a Greek, who kept a coffee-house at Palermo, and served as interpreter to the Turkish officers, but he could not exactly translate these verses, and all I could learn was that they were “extempore.” He then told me that the Prince had desired him to say that one day, as he was riding along the shore of the Bosphorus, a spirited horse threw him into the sea, when a dog jumped in after and saved him; for which reason he had imposed on himself the duty of paying a compliment in verse to those animals whenever he found a proper opportunity for so doing. A beautifulfête was given at the palace for the recovery of the kingdom of Naples, in the name of Prince Leopold, who was then about nine years of age. His tutor and the Queen made all the arrangements, and the former composed a very pretty cantata on the occasion. The Turkish Admiral went in the carriage with us; the Vice and Rear-Admirals, with the Captain of theEagle of the Sea, in another, but we could not persuade the latter to put on a caftan like the others. He insisted on going in his short dress and trousers, with bare arms and ankles, declaring that it was disrespectful to appear before the Queen in “a great coat;” just as we should think it wrong to wear a shawl in the presence of their Majesties. His turban was adorned with fine jewels. His dress was of purple silk, richly embroidered with silver, and his slippers of the same colour, which exclusively belongs to members of the imperial family. His linen was remarkably fine, and beautifully washed; his trousers were equallyrecherché, and without doubt he was the model of a Constantinopolitan dandy.
After the performance of the concert there was a magnificent firework, representing the blowing up ofL’Orientat the battle of the Nile. The Turks were delighted with this compliment to our navy, but the Russians did not appear equally well pleased. The gardens were beautifully illuminated.
The Honourable Samuel Barrington, the younger son of an Irish Peer, was sent into the Navy in his extreme youth, and at an early age was made a post-captain. He was one of those very few persons who have many friends and scarcely one enemy. He was not brilliant in understanding, and his appearance was plain, but his heart was excellent. He loved his friends, was charitable and humane to an extensive circle, and constantly kind and liberal to his family.
He was a good officer, and of the right school. Not ambitious, neither was he eager after fame. He wished to do his duty, and he did it well. If he had ambition in any the slightest degree, it was to get on in the service without making use of the powerful interest of his brother, who was for many years in the Ministry; and for this purpose he endeavoured to have his ship better manned, to get under weigh sooner, be sooner out of dock, &c. &c., than other people. It is not impossible that his rank in life was often of service to him on these occasions, but it was not his intention to avail himself of that advantage. He was a father to his officers and seamen, and was so generally liked in the Navy, that it was remarked that no company of sea-officers ever met without drinking his health.
When he was an Admiral he never desired to be a commander-in-chief, for he did not like responsibility, and he was envious of no man. He spenthis fortune in hospitality and acts of charity, avoiding all ostentation, not only because he had no taste for it, but because he would not hurt the feelings of his brother officers by living in a manner which those of more limited incomes could not have imitated without distressing themselves.[127]He was never violent in politics, and hatred seemed banished from his nature. I believe Admiral Barrington to have been a sincere Christian.
His conduct at Santa Lucia, both in taking the island and afterwards in defending it against the infinitely superior force of D’Estaing, was greatly applauded. In answer to the haughty letter in which the French commander exhorted him to give up a place which he could not defend against such inequality of force, he only returned him his letter, crossed over with two long scratches of his pen, and defeated him completely.
Admiral Barrington was desired by my mother to be her executor and my guardian, with the two Admirals Drake, in case she died before I was of age. But though he survived my mother, her life was mercifully spared to me for many years after that period; and he died before my return to England, after a long illness, which kept him chiefly at Bath during the last years of his existence.
I remember a young officer of the French Navy saying one day: “I should like to be an English Peer until I reached thirty-five. I would then be a Marshal of France till fifty, and afterwards come to Rome, be a Cardinal, and never die.” The same officer, looking at the fine picture of the “Magdalen,” by Guido, exclaimed: “Oh, what a lovely picture! I have always liked Magdalens in every stage of their existence.”
Signor Balbi was surprised to find that there was no Burgundy left in his cellar, when he wanted to place some before a party of friends who were dining with him at his country villa. “Ah!” said he, “it must have been that Englishman, Lord Fortrose, who has been staying here some days with my wife, that has drank it. Ah! I never thought of my wine.”
The Bishop of Parma said, that in that climate they had “nove mesi d’inverno, e tre d’inferno.”
It often happened in Genoa that, when any one was building, or repairing his house, his opposite neighbour, if he thought it so high as to be inconvenient to himself, or disagreeable for any otherreason, had it fired at with musket-shot, or at least pelted with stones. This occurred, whilst we were there, to the house of Signor Negroni.
The Archbishop of Genoa hearing an Abbé say that the earth moved round the sun, told him he was astonished at his impiety in flatly contradicting the Scriptures, which say, “Terra autem stat.”
Madame de Staël, daughter of M. Necker, being at a ball with a lady, daughter of the late M. de Guichen, Lieutenant-General of the Marine, for whom she was in mourning, kept tormenting the latter to dance. The lady replied that she could not dance while she was in mourning for her father; but Madame de Staël still importuned her, until she said: “Consider, madam, if you had had the misfortune to lose your father, could you think of dancing so soon?” “Oh!” returned the other, with a haughty air, “there is such a difference between fathers and fathers.” “True, madam,” replied her companion, “there is a great difference. My father served his king and his country during sixty years—yours in a fortnight has ruined both.”
Two Frenchmen of the lowest order, talking of the present condition of their country as they werecrossing the Rhône, one of them said it was delightful to be equal to the nobility and gentry. “True,” replied the other, “it would have been pleasant to have been upon an equality with them while they were something; but now we have brought them down and ruined them, I do not see what we have gained by being equal to them.”
The Princess of Monaco stayed here a few days after the Prince’s departure, in the hope that the revolution aimed at by the aristocratic party would take place. When she received an express from the Prince, she wept bitterly while she read his letter, and then immediately ordered post-horses and set off, exclaiming: “Adieu, mon palais! adieu, mes honneurs! Je ne suis plus rien.”
The Corsicans having lately heard that they were to be restored to Genoa, represented to the Government that, rather than be given to their former masters, they begged that France would bestow them on the person to whom Louis XI. formerly gave the Genoese. During the reign of that monarch the Genoese sent Ambassadors to his Court, with instructions to place the republic under the protection of France. “Les Gênois,” said they, “se donnent à votre Majesté.” “Et moi,” answered the King, “je les donne au diable.”
A Venetian, being asked by a German where his countrymen got their lion with wings, replied: “We caught him in the same forest where you found your two-headed eagle.”
Linnæus hated Buffon. He used to say that Buffon’s eloquence would mislead the world so as to make it believe his lies. One day, being at dinner with the mother of the present King of Sweden (Gustavus III.), at her country-house at Drottningholm, he saw a portrait of himself and one of Buffon in the room. He rose from table, and begged she would take away one or the other, for he would not have his portrait in such company. When very old, he used to go out herborising with several hundred students of the University of Upsal. He had a trumpet with him, by which the signal was given to call his scholars around him when he found any plant particularly curious. They also brought to him all that they had collected, which he classified and explained to them, sitting down upon the grass. He was simple in his habits and behaviour. He could speak French very well, but would not, because he hated the nation. He also spoke German, and a little English. He was much beloved. When the funeral service was performed over him, the man who had been gardener for twenty years of the botanicalnursery he had established, came and strewed his grave with boughs of cypress—which Linnæus had introduced into Sweden—and with the most curious exotics in the garden.
The Piedmontese called all the Genoese “Bacciacini,” that being a common name at Genoa. When they met any of the inhabitants of that city in the streets of Turin, they plagued them by calling out: “Bacciacini, dom, dom, dom”—imitating the sound of the great bell for assembling the Consiglietto.
An Italian at Vienna was telling a lady how long he had been travelling, and pronouncing French according to the manner of his nation, he said: “J’ai été unâneà Paris et unâneà Rome.” “Mon cher Abbé,” replied the lady, “il paraît que vous avez été un âne partout.”
M. Lageswärd said, in the presence of Baron de Wrangel, that the latter had the reputation in Sweden of being very fertile in point of gallantry. “Why, no, indeed, my dear friend,” answered the Baron; “I have really been very constant; but consider, when a man has been making love near sixty-five years, how many mistresses he must necessarily have had.”
Signor Michel Angelo Cambiaso, who was long a prelate in Rome, said that in that city two things are eternal—the women and the friendships.
A few years since a Russian lady of high rank—who had escaped from her own country, either on account of her being acquainted with some circumstances relative to the death of the late Emperor (Peter III.), or because she had some right to the crown by inheritance—stayed a few months in Italy, and the Grand-Duke of Tuscany told her he would answer for her safety so long as she remained at Florence, but that he would not advise her to trust to any Russian. Count Orloff, however, became intimately acquainted with her, and paid great court to her, till at last he persuaded her to partake of an entertainment on board the Russian fleet, at that time anchored off Leghorn. Notwithstanding the advice of many persons, she went on board, and has never since been heard of. It is supposed that she was thrown into the sea. Count Orloff despatched a messenger to his imperial accomplice as soon as he had secured his prisoner.[128]
When Lord Bruce and Mr. Brand were at Paris, arms and liveries had been abolished about three weeks. The people came and stared at the coronet on Lord Bruce’s carriage, and at the motto, “Fuimus.” Luckily, said Mr. B., none of the Dames de la Halle understood Latin. The populace looked at the Ambassadress’s footmen in livery as the most extraordinary sight in the world, though so short a time had elapsed since they had been accustomed to see everybody’s servants dressed after that fashion.
Mr. B. going to make a visit at Cambridge to Prince William, son of the Duke of Gloucester, saw a fiddle on the table, and, taking it up, asked the tutor if his Royal Highness played. “Not much,” said the other; “only God save his uncle, and such little things.”
Signor Stefano Lassagna said the war of ’46 spoiled all the etiquette of Genoese society. Formerly the gentlemen behaved much more politely to the ladies, and he himself remembered the time when Prince Doria walked beside the chair of Madame Morando with his hat off, in a great fall of snow, though he had his own chair following behind.
A general reform having been instituted at Genoain the signs of inns and taverns, no saints or foreign sovereigns were to be allowed. The man who kept the “Santa Marta” being ordered to take down that sign, put up “Albergo Imperiale” in its stead. He was then told that the Emperor did not rule in Genoa, and so he next stuck up the arms of the republic, with the motto “Libertas,” and he calls his inn “La Libertà.”
Prince Chigi, who was condemned to perpetual imprisonment for attempting to poison Cardinal Carandini, resided at Genoa, and went by his own name. He paid a visit to Signor Bernardo Pallavicini, brother of the Doge, and was lodged at the “Santa Marta” (La Libertà). His servants cooked for him in his own apartments. Mr. Devonport, who had rooms near his, complained of the noise of scraping pots and dishes, and was answered by the people of the house that they had made the same objections, but had been told that the Prince had hired the rooms and would cook as he pleased.
Signora Marina Spinola having arranged to marry her daughter to the son of Signor Dominico Serra, said she did not mention the circumstance to her till all was settled, because the young man is agreeable; but had he been ugly, she would have told her at once, to accustom her to the idea. OneSunday the bridegroom went with his father and mother and all their family, even to nephews and nieces, to visit the bride, Signora Spinola having also invited her relations to be present on the occasion. The visitors arrived about half-past five, when the young lady was to kiss the hand of her future mother-in-law, which the latter was to endeavour to prevent: however, she succeeded very dexterously in doing it. Signora Serra went away early, but left the sposo, telling Signora Spinola that he would stay till she sent him away. This puzzled Signora Spinola, but she arranged the matter with Signor Cheeco Viale, who, at half-past seven, told the young man it was time to walk home. All the time of the visit the latter sat on a sofa beside the young lady, talking to her on indifferent subjects. The next day Signora Spinola, her husband, and a friend, went to return the visit of Signora Serra, when the latter requested her to charge herself with the care of providing the marriage outfit—which is always furnished by the parents of the bridegroom—excusing herself on the plea of ill health and the absence of her daughter. She added, that she intended to spend as much as she had done for the daughter of Prince Doria, who was married to another of her sons. Signora Spinola at first demurred to spending another person’s money, but finally accepted the commission. In the contract it was to be inserted that the marriageshould take place before September, and the Serra family wished it to be in June. The young man was to be dispensed from the ancient custom of watching to meet the young lady whenever she went out with her mother, and he was to be allowed now and then to visit at the house. They were to live with Signora Spinola for a year and a half, or two years, until a house could be fitted up for them.
The King and Queen of Naples were wonderfully pleased with Rome, though they had taken a prejudice against it. They were magnificently treated at the Pontine Marshes at the Pope’s expense. The carriage of the gold plate, provisions, &c., alone cost 150 crowns, and the dinner itself not less than 600 crowns. When General Acton met the King on the frontier, he asked if his Majesty would take any refreshment, but the King declined, saying that he had eaten enough for three days. At Rome they invented a conversation, supposed to have taken place between the Pope, the King and Queen of Naples, General Acton, and the Queen’s Confessor. The Pope says, “Io concedo tutto;” the King, “Io voglio tutto quel che vuole la Regina;” the Queen, “Io voglio tutto;” Acton, “Io rubo tutto;” the Confessor, “Io assolvo tutto;” and the Devil, in a corner of the picture, “Io porto via tutti.”
The marriage contract of Signora Costanza Falconieri and Count Onesti was signed on Thursday, the 31st of May. There were twenty-four Cardinals present, chiefly creations of this Pope, the four prelates in the principal charges that lead to the red hat—that is, the Governor, the Maggiordomo, the Auditore della Camera, and the Treasurer, but as the latter was already a Cardinal, he could not sign the contract, and therefore deputed Monsignor Doria to do so in his place. Twenty-two o’clock (sixP.M.) was the hour, and Signora Mobilia had the candles lighted, that the ceremony might be more imposing. * * * Early on the morning of Monday, June 4, the sposa, accompanied by her mother and grandmother, &c. &c., went to the Vatican, where the Pope said mass in the Chapel Sestina. After hearing a second mass, he married his nephew and the young lady, making an exhortation twenty-two minutes in length. He began by giving good advice to the sposa, and then addressed the sposo, and afterwards himself, saying that it was in that place (the Sestine Chapel) he was first married to the Church, and lamenting the many errors he had committed since he was Pope, notwithstanding his most ardent desires for the good of the Church. There were no ladies present but those of the family, many of whom were of all conditions. After the ceremony they went down to the Maggiordomo’s apartments, where a collationhad been prepared, and then proceeded to the church of San Marcello, in the Corso, to pay their devotions in the chapel of the Beata Giulia Falconieri, an ancestor of the family, and a considerable saint. They next made their devotions at the little church of the Bergamaschi, in the Piazza Colonna, and thence repaired to the house of the sposo, Palazzo Braschi, where they all remained an hour and a half, and afterwards dined at the Palazzo Falconieri. The Senatress told the sposa she gave her joy on her wedding, and also on the presents she had received. “I had not so many when I married the Pope’s nephew; but then,” added she, “Idid not want them.” An Abbé, standing at Count Braschi Onesti’s door when they came home from the marriage, exclaimed: “What a fine breed of horses he has brought with him from Cesena!” They were so enraged at this speech that they had him arrested and sent to prison. The Prince Borghese presented Count Onesti with a pair of fine horses. Some said that the latter asked for them, and others that he offered to buy them, but that the Prince answered they were for his own use. However, he understood the Count’s meaning, and sent them off to the Maggiordomo.
François Joachim de Pierre de Bernis was of an old family of gentle blood, whose hereditary estatewas near Pont St. Esprit, in Languedoc. He had great taste and talent for Anacreontic poetry. His compositions were lively and elegant, but rather too highly coloured, and by no means instructive for youthful readers. It was, no doubt, the error of the times and of the nation. He was of a short stature, and I do not think that either his features or person could ever have been remarkable for beauty, and yet he was universally known in his youth as “le joli petit abbé,” and “l’aimable abbé.” His mind was very liberal, and his temper generous and disinterested, but he seems to have been always somewhat too indiscriminate, or too tolerant, in the choice of his acquaintance. His circumstances were limited, so that during his early years he was often subjected to great pecuniary embarrassments; but he was always cheerful, always the gentleman, and always well received. He established the necessary proofs of ancestry for becoming a Canon of the Noble Chapter of St. Jean de Lion, of which he wore the cross to the last day of his life, with more pleasure than any other of his numerous decorations, for the consciousness of birth made his other honours sit easy on him. He gained the favour of Madame de Pompadour by his verses and the charms of his society, for no one ever said more amiable things in fewer words, or more to the purpose. She was not, however, his only friend, or the sole cause of his promotion, as it has been oftenreported. A memoir he wrote on the dispute be tween the Jesuits and Parliament pleased the King (Louis XV.), and, besides, he was generally popular, and had great and powerful protectors, through whom he was sent Minister to Venice. While he was there, the husband of the beautiful Princess de Rohan died. The Princess and he had long been attached to each other, and he knew that she would propose to marry him, but he felt that he would be regarded as too much her inferior with respect to rank and fortune to make a graceful figure in the world. He therefore took priest’s orders when he heard that the Prince was so ill that the next courier might bring tidings of his death. This does not sound well; but it did not forfeit him the friendship of the Princess, for, when she died, she left him her whole fortune, which he nobly gave up to the Rohans, merely reserving for himself a ring, on which was a Moor’s head, and this he wore until his death in remembrance of her. At his return from Venice he was made Prime Minister, but was soon displaced by the Choiseul party, when he was created a Cardinal, but exiled to one of his abbeys; subsequently he was allowed to live at his archbishopric of Alby. Restored to some degree of favour when Louis XVI. ascended the throne, he was appointed Minister Plenipotentiary of His Most Christian Majesty at the Court of Rome, whither he had gone for the Conclave ofGanganelli. There he shone with the greatest splendour. His revenues were enormous, and he expended them most generously. Indeed, his liberality to his own countrymen, his hospitality to the natives and to travellers, his charity to the poor, and his beneficence to his own family, were only limited by his income. He never wished to save, but could not bear the idea of debt. His house and table were sumptuous, his conversation lively and animated, his manners polished, his expressions guarded, and his behaviour dignified and correct.
We had letters of recommendation to Cardinal de Bernis when we first went to Rome, and were intimately acquainted with him and his family, particularly with his amiable niece, the Marchioness du Puy-Montbrun, and his adopted nephew and coadjutor, M. de Bernis, who was afterwards his successor. The Cardinal was dismissed from his post at Rome, on refusing to take the oath exacted by the Revolutionists, and deprived of his benefices in France. He had a pension, however, from Spain, and received into his house at Rome, where he continued to reside, Mesdames Adelaide and Victoire, the sisters of Louis XVI. He bore his change of fortune with dignity and temper, and died about eighteen months before the French took possession of Rome. He left behind him a poem on religion, which he gave orders to have printedafter his death; and Memoirs of the most active period of his life, intended only for the gratification of his own family, with positive instructions that they should never be made public. The following lines were written by a lady of Alby, to be placed beneath two small medallions, representing the Cardinal and his nephew, the coadjutor:
Alby! tes deux prélats au temple de MémoireAttesteront du ciel la plus rare faveur;Quand il eut fait l’un pour la gloire,Il fit l’autre pour ton bonheur.
Alby! tes deux prélats au temple de MémoireAttesteront du ciel la plus rare faveur;Quand il eut fait l’un pour la gloire,Il fit l’autre pour ton bonheur.
Alby! tes deux prélats au temple de MémoireAttesteront du ciel la plus rare faveur;Quand il eut fait l’un pour la gloire,Il fit l’autre pour ton bonheur.
Alby! tes deux prélats au temple de Mémoire
Attesteront du ciel la plus rare faveur;
Quand il eut fait l’un pour la gloire,
Il fit l’autre pour ton bonheur.
When the Cardinal de Bernis was to receive the red hat, he knew that eight days afterwards he would be exiled from the Court. He was then Prime Minister. The morning he was to go to the King he got up at two, and wrote till eight, when he went to the palace and received the hat, and addressed complimentary discourses to all the Royal Family. He then returned to his own house, and had five tables set out for company, consisting of all the Ministers and clergy. After dinner the King sent for him to the Council, which he left late at night, and went home and wrote till two in the morning. The pomp with which he was surrounded was immensely magnificent—all the royal carriages attending him. The Duke of Fitzjames, who was standing with him at the entrance of his house, remarked:“Quel beau jour pour vous, Monseigneur!” “C’est plutôt un beau parapluie,” replied the Cardinal; but the Duke being ignorant of his approaching downfall did not understand him. The Cardinal said, he remarked, while he was pronouncing his discourses, that the courtiers were endeavouring to find expressions that they could lay hold of, to bring up against him afterwards. Eight days later he was exiled to his abbey of Visurenne, where for the space of one year he was not permitted to see any one but the members of his own family. During the two following years he was allowed to see company, and then sent to his archbishopric of Alby. The greatest demonstrations of joy, such as the ringing of bells, the firing of guns, troops drawn up to salute, &c., were exhibited all along his journey through Languedoc. While at Visurenne he used to dress in grey, lined with red, with a white hat and a red riband round it, like a shepherd.
After the Cardinal de Bernis was recalled from exile he went to Paris, and happened to be in company with the Duchess de Grammont, sister of M. de Choiseul, who was then Minister. She took occasion to introduce the subject of exile, and said it must be the most disagreeable thing in the world. “Madam,” replied the Cardinal, “it is the mostdisagreeable thing possible when you are expecting it, but the most agreeable when it is over.”
The Venetian Ambassador wrote the other day to the Vicegerent (substitute of the Cardinal-Vicar), requesting him to make inquiries about a young couple who had run away from Venice, and who, the Senate informed him, were concealed in Rome. The Vicegerent sent back the Ambassador’s letter with these words at the bottom of it: “Si burla di me il Signore Ambasciadore” (Monsieur l’Ambassadeur se moque de moi). The latter again wrote to the Vicegerent, and more urgently than before, but received only the same answer. Whereupon he called in person upon the prelate, who told him that the young couple were in the palace at Venice.
The Count d’Artois carried his little son, the Duke d’Angoulême, to see the young Dauphin. The child, expecting to see something extraordinary, looked disappointed, and exclaimed: “Mon papa, comme il est petit!” “Tu le trouveras un jour beaucoup trop grand,” replied the Count.
The Père Procureur of the Order of Doctrinaires came to make us a visit, and said that he was trying to get the founder of his order canonised, provided it did not cost too much. He had alreadyexpended six hundred crowns on the congregations before whom the question has to be laid. These are composed of prelates, heads of orders, and cardinals; but he believes the last do not receive anything. Every congregation costs a hundred and fifty crowns in chocolate; the lawyer gets twenty more for his carriage and other expenses; and the rest goes inmanciasto the servants. The Prelate Promoter of the Faith is usually styled “Avvocato del Diavolo,” his business being to raise objections to the proposed saint. The present candidate for canonisation is of an ancient family of Avignon. His brother was a “chef d’escadre,” and he himself was in the army of Henri IV. At that time he used to make verses to the ladies, and was a man of the world; but he afterwards turned abbé, and founded an order for the instruction of children. His name was César de Busse. They are now trying to prove his virtues to “an heroic degree,” and afterwards they will come to his miracles, without which he cannot be beatified. It is somewhat difficult to find proofs of these, but they hope to succeed, provided the order in France find money enough; but there seems to be some reluctance to spend much for these purposes. Connected with this, the Père Procureur related to us an anecdote of one of the Boromeo family, who told us his son need not give himself so much trouble, for they would never try to make a saint of him, as his uncle’s canonisation had already ruined them. The feastof a beatified saint is not observed by the Church in general, but only by his own order.
When Marshal Richelieu went to Bordeaux he was tired out with harangues from all sorts of people. At last they told him that the Gardien of the Capucins wanted to address him, but the Marshal vowed he would hear no more. Being prevailed on, however, by the people about him not to mortify the poor man, he said he would receive him provided his discourse were brief. The Capucin, then entering, said: “Monsieur le Maréchal, nous vous souhaitons autant de bien dans l’autre monde que vous en avez eu dans celui-ci.”
When Marshal Villars was going to give battle to the allied army, he looked at his troops, whose uniforms had become very shabby, and said to them, pointing to the new regimentals of the enemy: “Habillez-vous, mes amis.”
The harlequin at the Comédie Italienne at Paris called for a seat, and they brought him a chair. “Non, non,” said he, “ce siége n’est pas assez long. Je voudrais m’appuyer. Donnez-moi un autre siége: donnez-moi un siége comme celui de Port-Mahon.”
A Neapolitan Prince, being on his death-bed, sent for his confessor, and, after making a long confession, he said there was one thing he had omitted because he had not courage to tell it. After much difficulty and many exhortations, the friar prevailed upon him to impart the secret. “Father,” said he, “I can never hope to be saved, for I have fought a duel.” The confessor reproved him in suitable terms, but added, that his repentance would ensure his pardon. “Oh, father!” exclaimed the Prince, “there were aggravating circumstances. The dispute was occasioned by my saying that Tasso was superior to Ariosto, and we fought three times on that account.” “It was very improper, to be sure,” replied the friar, “to have risked your own life and that of a fellow-creature for so slight a reason, but you may hope to be forgiven.” “It is impossible, father,” persisted the Prince, “for though I disputed so vehemently, I have never read a line of either Tasso or Ariosto.”
When the Archduke Maximilian was at Paris, he went to see the Cabinet du Roi. M. de Buffon was there to receive him, and presented his Imperial Highness with a copy of his works, elegantly bound; but the Archduke said, he could not think of robbing him. He went likewise to the Ecole Militaire, where the young gentlemen were goingto be put through their exercises for his amusement, but he said he did not wish to fatigue them. The Parisians called him the “Archi-bête d’Autriche.”
When Pope Lambertini went to see the Opera House fitted up for the cantata which the Duke de Nivernois gave on the birth of the present King of France (Louis XVI.), the prelate who was in attendance wanted to take off the “stola,” thinking! that it was not decent so sacred a habit should appear in a theatre, but the Pope prevented him, calling him a “minchione” (a blockhead). Somebody wrote over the door, “Indulgenza pleniaria.”
When the Bishop of Derry was at Rome, he refused to help a French gentleman at Cardinal de Bernis’ table to some olives, saying he “would not give the olive to France.” The Marquis de Fortia replied, “And yet it is the duty of your profession to do so, milord.”
On the road from Naples to Rome the Cavaliere Lascaris was much annoyed at the slow pace the postilion went. He called out to him several times to go quicker, but the man always excused himself by abusing the Pope for keeping such bad roads. On reaching the end of the stage the Cavaliercaned him handsomely; and, that the people around might not take the postilion’s part, he went on saying what a rascal he was to abuse his sovereign, such a good prince, too, &c. &c. The other then protested that he did not mean the present Pope, he meant Pope Rezzonico. “Worse and worse,” cried the Cavalier, “for he was a saint. I must beat you all the more.”
When the Duke of Arcas was sent by the King of Spain to congratulate the King and Queen of Naples on the birth of their eldest child, Ganganelli, who was then Pope, knew that the Duke had received instructions from his sovereign to press for the extinction of the Order of Jesuits. He resolved, therefore, to give the envoy no opportunity of addressing him on the subject. The Spanish Ambassador at Rome mentioned to the Pope’s confidant, Padre Bontempi, that he hoped his Holiness would treat the Duke with distinguished civility, as he was charged with a special mission. To which the Padre replied, that he could assure him the Duke should be received in a manner that would fully content him. When he arrived, the Pope was staying at the Castle Gandolpho, and he sent the Maestro di Camera and the Maggiordomo to receive the Duke at the door, the greatest compliment that can be shown even to a sovereign.The Pope was standing when he entered the room, and when he was about to kneel to kiss the feet of his Holiness, the latter prevented him, took him in his arms and embraced him, and seated him on a sofa beside himself. As the Duke made some difficulty about this, he said, “Do not look upon me as the Pope, but as a friar.” He then conversed with the envoy on various subjects, and kept up the conversation for half an hour, without allowing him the slightest opportunity to speak upon his real business. Padre Bontempi, according to previous arrangement, having made a sign that it was dinner-time, the Pope said that he had already observed that he was only a friar, and he lived like one, dining at twelve o’clock, but the Maggiordomo would take care of him (the Ambassador), though probably he would not fare so well as at the court of other sovereigns. He then rose, accompanied the Duke to the door, and as he was going out, said, “Remember me to Carluccio” (so he called the King of Spain), “and tell him that I am a man of honour, and will keep my promise to him, but he must give me time enough.” The Ambassador then took his leave, enchanted with his reception.
As Mr. Hewetson was putting up a bust in the Pantheon one day, three persons who had taken refuge in the church offered to help him. One ofthem said he had done nothing wrong, but the corporal of the sbirri owed him a grudge; and another declared that he was an honest man, he had never stolen anything, he had only killed a man. When any one here is taken up for a crime, the judge asks him his name, and some have been cunning enough to reply, “Chiesa” (Church). The judge then says, “I have taken an oath that I would never attempt anything against the Church, and therefore, as that is your name, you must go before the tribunal of Ecclesiastical Immunities.” The man is accordingly sent there, and soon afterwards returned to the judge, with a message, telling him that he may do what he pleases, he will not offend the Church. But if the prisoner persists in saying that his name is Chiesa, the judge will have nothing to do with him, and again refers him to the tribunal, and so the affair drags on for ever. No man, besides, is ever condemned to death unless he confesses his crime, but the torture is applied to extort the confession. One poor wretch made a likeness of the gallows, and stuck it on his foot, that he might remember in the midst of his sufferings that it was worse to be hanged. Many outlaws are living at Ostia, but all for homicide and assassination. They would think it a disgrace to their society to allow a robber to live amongst them.
The following was one of the addresses to the young Dauphin: “Monseigneur, votre naissance fait notre joie, votre éducation fera nos espérances, et vos vertus feront notre bonheur.”
The little Prince Santa Croce, about five or six years of age, had got little Prince Giustiniani down, and kicked him most unmercifully. The latter took refuge in a corner, but the other ordered him to come out, that he might kick him again: “If you do not,” he added, “I’ll give you acoltellata” (a stab).
As some officers of the Guards were showing off their troops to General Elliot, with their fine feathers, pink stocks, &c. &c., he said they only wanted one thing, which he had seen in Italy, and thought would be a great improvement to them. Upon being asked what this was, replied, “An umbrella;” which the Pope’s soldiers always carried.
Cardinal de Bernis said that Count Alfieri was very prodigal of reflections, but very covetous of words.
The Chevalier du Theil remarked to us, in speaking of a Minister who was giving fêtes onsome public occasion, “On s’ennuie à les préparer, on se ruine à les faire, on est critiqué quand on les a faites.”
The expense of Monseigneur de Bernis’ bishopric, including expedition of bulls, presents, &c., amounted to about 480 Roman crowns. The Pope would not take the price of the bulls, as he was entitled to do.
The King of Prussia called the Emperor Joseph II. the Quixote of the North.
The Marquis Castiglioni, as he was going to Naples, scolded his wife because the cook’s carriage had broken down, which, he said, was owing to her not having gone to mass in the morning before they set out. He afterwards said it was the fault of the “femme de chambre,” whom he abused dreadfully, but a few hours after desired the Marchioness to give her two sequins.
A Jew of Pisa being very ill, ordered two Jew attendants to call in a curate to baptise him, for that his conscience would not allow him to die in peace without he became a Christian. He said he heard them in the next room agree that they had better kill him than let him change his religion.Upon that he desired so earnestly to be baptised, that an angel, dressed in white, came down and christened him; and from that moment he grew better. On his recovery he informed the Archbishop of Pisa of the miracle, and the Archbishop wrote to Rome to know if the man ought to be christened a second time. A Congregation was accordingly appointed, at the head of which was the Vicegerent, Monseigneur Contesini, and the Bishop of Carpentras went to Cardinal de Bernis, to inquire if he thought that baptism by an angel was canonical. The Cardinal replied, as gravely as he could, that perhaps it would be better to rechristen the Jew,conditionally; and that as he had never heard of any one being baptised by an angel, he could not say whether it was canonical. He then asked them if they were certain that the angel had really appeared; and they answered that there could be no doubt about it, for the man had told it himself.
The Duke de Chartres built some houses round the gardens of the Palais Royal, with shops under them, in order to get money by letting them. He was talking to the King of the beauty of one of his gardens, describing the summer-houses, canals, &c.: “Y a-t-il des boutiques aussi?” asked his Majesty. The people were so enraged at seeing the trees cut down and the beauty of the gardens spoiled tobuild these houses, that they hissed the Duke as he passed, and to escape the populace he ran through a coffee-house and got away. Some one remarking his blue ribbon, called out, “Est-ce la première fois qu’on a vu fuir leSaint-Esprit?” that being the name of the ship he commanded in the engagement with Admiral Keppel. A caricature was printed of a man picking up rags in the dirt, and beneath it was written, “M. le Duc de Chartres, qui cherche des loques à terre” (locataires). One day, while talking to a lady, he described a friend of hers by various ill-natured signs, to which she replied, “Je vois bien, Monseigneur, que vous vous entendez mieux aux signalements qu’aux signaux.”
The Duchess de Chabot told me nothing struck her more disagreeably than to see, at the end of a sentence of death, the King’s signature following the words, “Tel est notre bon plaisir.”
Pope Lambertini having heard that Ghezzi, the painter, had drawn caricatures of him and of all the Sacred College, insisted on seeing his book. The painter, in great terror, was obliged to comply; but the Pope was so much pleased with his talent that he gave him an employment of twelve crowns a month, and kept the book. Whenever a Cardinalcame to see him he would show him his portrait, and if it caused any displeasure, he would say: “Do not be angry—here is my likeness also.” The same Pope was told that a person had taken the liberty to publish a book of his “bons mots,” and was urged to punish the fellow. He replied that he would certainly do so, and would inflict a very severe punishment, for, said he, “I will have a new edition printed with great additions, and then nobody will buy the book he has been at the expense of publishing.”
Princess Dashkoff being at Cardinal de Bernis’ in carnival time, boasted that she would not fear to face forty cannons, and yet started when the petards were fired to give the signal for the race. She was asked if she felt cold, and she answered that her imagination was colder than her person. The Grand-Duke Paul of Russia told the young Prince Dashkoff that he had already given him half of his friendship on his mother’s account, and would give him the other half when he knew him better. He agreed with the Princess to forget past times, and to think only of the present. When he was in St. Peter’s, he said that such a church gave a higher idea of the Divinity than any other temple he had ever entered. He thought the columns were not perfectly proper for the support of so noble an edifice, but he was too much struck with the generaleffect of the building to examine its details. The city of Rome, he remarked, offered the most august, and, at the same time, the most humiliating spectacle in the world, as it showed to what a height men could attain, and also how low they could descend.
Mr. Bagnall remarked, that, on meeting the Senator on the first day of carnival in his state coach surrounded by his guards, and with pieces of silk carried before him, it seemed to him as if the Romans wished to perpetuate the memory of their disgrace, and show how far they had sunk from their former position. If Cato could return on earth, what, he asked, would be his idea on encountering Prince Rezzonico as the representative of the Roman Senate, and Princess Santa Croce as the representative of the Roman matrons—particularly at Carnival time?
Countess Kaunitz, at Vienna, cheated intolerably at cards. As she was walking one day with Lord Finlater, a beggar asked alms of her, and she desired his Lordship to give the man a sequin. Lord F. demurred to such a large sum, but the lady insisted on his showing his generosity. “Ah! je vois, madame,” said he, “que c’est un cousin de Pam.”
When the Prince of Hepenstein was at Paris, he was one day at Madame de Barri’s toilette, surrounded with courtiers. She was saying how much she wished to have a little tiger, and every one was recommending how it should be fed. Some said with biscuits, others with macaroons, till the Prince, tired of all this nonsense, suggested: “Give him, madam, a courtier a day.”
Princess Dashkoff said she thought the Polish nation the most servile in the world till she saw the Italians.
Cardinal Zelada said that, when he was in the Conclave, another Cardinal sent him an artichoke, which he presented to another Cardinal, who passed it on to a third, until it came back to Cardinal Zelada. After this had happened six times the latter terminated its travels by throwing it out of the window, but not before it had cost him twenty-five crowns. For it is customary when a Cardinal makes a present to a “confrère,” to give at least two sequins to the secretary of the donor, or to some other member of his household.
Of the innumerable friars secularised by the Emperor Joseph II., only two hundred have proved fit to be employed as parish priests. The nuns ofthe convents destroyed by his Majesty had permission to enter other convents if they voluntarily chose to continue a monastic life. Scarcely any of the German nuns have confined themselves a second time, and only one in Lombardy, who has come to Rome for that purpose. The Pope has allowed her a few days to see the city.
The King of Spain has been very anxious of late for the canonisation of a lady who died about a hundred and fifty years ago. Two miracles are necessary for this purpose, and only one could be proved to have been performed during her lifetime. It was therefore proposed to supply the other by the fact of her body having remained uncorrupted for such a length of time. Accordingly the tomb was opened, in order to ascertain whether the body had been preserved naturally or by being embalmed. Unfortunately, it crumbled into dust as soon as it was exposed to the air, which was held to be decisive against her sanctity. The King, however, was so determined to have his way, that he caused a second congregation to be convened, but the result has been as unfavourable to his wishes as before.
It is said of the Duke de Chartres (afterwards Duke of Orleans, commonly known as PhilippeEgalité), that he was “paresseux sur mer, poltron sur terre, polisson partout.”
Two instances of the cruelty practised in convents came under the Countess de Château Dauphin’s personal knowledge. One was of a friar belonging to one of the mendicant orders at Turin, who was chained under the cellar-stairs for ten years, fed upon bread and water, and kept in a most shocking state. The other was of a friar who was confined for twenty-five years in a room of a convent near her country house, where he was deprived of the sight of a single human being—his food being passed to him through a hole. Through the Count’s influence he was at length set at liberty, and permitted to walk about the convent.
The Emperor Joseph II. is called every morning before six, and rises immediately, though he may have been sound asleep just before. While dressing he reads papers, and by seven he receives the Council of State; after which the Archduke Maximilian, if in Vienna, makes him a visit of a few minutes, and they go together to church. The Emperor then proceeds to his Chancellerie, where he dictates to several secretaries, keeping them fully employed until twelve or one, when he holdsa levee. About half-past one, or two, he drives a calèche and pair to one of the gates of the town, where a horse is awaiting him. He mounts and rides round to see fortifications, buildings, gardens, &c., and, after using violent exercise, returns home about half-past four, when the signal for the Guards to salute him is also the signal to serve up the dinner. While this is being done, which usually occupies seven minutes, the Emperor dresses himself—he is always in uniform—and he remains less than half an hour at table. He eats of the simplest dishes, and of not more than two or three, talking all the time to architects, directors of his gardens, &c. After dinner he walks about the room for a short time, when he returns to the Chancellerie, and works assiduously till ten or eleven. He then visits at one of about a dozen houses, to which he goes by turns, almost all of them belonging to widows of general officers, and the greater part Protestants. They are all elderly women, with the exception of two—the Princess of Lichtenstein, wife of the General who is his personal friend; and another lady, whose husband likewise is particularly intimate with his Majesty, and works nearly as hard. About midnight the Emperor returns to the palace, and as he passes through his apartments sits down to the harpsichord for a quarter of an hour, his valet de chambre accompanying him on the violin. He both plays and sings, and themusic is changed every night. He then goes to bed. Such is his usual life at Vienna, but when he is with his troops he surpasses them all in activity. Rain, tempests, long and fatiguing marches, are alike disregarded.
M. de Chevert, who died a lieutenant-general of the French army, being about to take a fortress by assault, gave the following instructions to a soldier: “Tu monteras l’échelle; la sentinelle te criera ‘Qui est là?’ tu ne répondras rien; il te criera une autre fois; tu ne diras rien; il te tirera, il te manquera; tu le tueras et moi je serai derrière toi.” The soldier took his commander’s word, did as he was bid, and everything happened precisely as M. de Chevert had stated.
A son of Count Sambuca, Prime Minister of the King of Naples, not long since had a person assassinated. His father sent him off to Sicily, and it is probable that no further notice will be taken of the murder. Another son of the same Minister, as he was going to a conversazione at Rome, observed that Cardinal Visconti’s carriage was in front of him, and immediately ordered his coachman to drive past it. The man excused himself by saying that it was not customary to pass a Cardinal; but Signor Sambuca insisted, and gained his point. Cardinal Visconti, when he alighted, unaware of thereal state of the case, and being, besides, a very civil man, told the other that he was exceedingly sorry for the dispute between their coachmen, but that it was impossible to answer for the behaviour of those people. “You are mistaken, Sir,” replied the Neapolitan, “I ordered my man to pass you; ‘voi altri Cardinali ci volete soverchiare in tutto.’”[129]However, he was soon afterwards recalled to Naples by his father.
It was mentioned lately at a conversazione of the second class that some one had been murdered by a servant. An Abbé, who was one of the guests, being accompanied by his servant on his way home, was asked by the man if he knew whose servant it was, and he replied in the negative. “Why, it was I, Sir,” said the fellow—“I killed the man myself.” The poor Abbé was so much frightened at the intelligence that he ordered him to take himself off, with his livery and lantern.
In Italy, they call people who hurt their health by painting, tight-lacing, &c., “martiri del diavolo.”
Prince Borghese gave a ball about a fortnight after his sister’s death; whereupon it was written over his door next morning: “Dignum sororisfunus.” His mother has been dead about a month, and he is not yet in mourning. Next month he proposes to give dances at his villa twice a week.
Lord Lucan said that the Ambassador from Malta spoke amazingly good French for an African.
Cardinal Hertzan, Minister of the Empire, having taken a palace through the interest of the Empress Queen (Maria Theresa), wanted to turn out the keeper of a coffee-house who lived in the palace. The man went to consult a Friar Felice to know how he could manage to resist the Cardinal. The friar told him that he saw no human means whereby he could avoid his loss, but that God Almighty would perhaps prevent it. The Cardinal being afterwards in danger of losing great part of his income through the death of the Empress Queen, Friar Felice passed for a saint.
Prince Doria gave to the (newly-made) Cardinal Altimari a fine carriage, with a pair of beautiful horses. Prince Borghese sent his tailor and his merchant to the same Cardinal, desiring him to order as many suits for himself, and as many liveries for his servants, as he thought proper. A woman of the second order, the widow of an “expéditionnaire,” likewise presented him with onethousand crowns in papetti, to give away as “mancia” (“pour boire”—drinking-money), and defrayed all his briefs, &c., for his new bishopric.
The Romans called Signora Giulia Falconieri, “Papa Giulia.” The Pope’s nephews being at the Opera with that lady, it was said, “Tutti li Santissimi erano ad Aliberti.”
At La Valle, a guardian was introduced on the stage, who advised his ward to keep good company, and to receive the nobility at her house, but to have nothing to do with painters. Monsignor Ferretti, cavaliere servente to the Baroness G., told her of this, and advised her to take the hint with regard to a painter who is continually at her house. Upon this a friend of hers went to the Governor and complained that the comedians of La Valle had insulted Madame G.
Signor Pisani, a Venetian, having had great flirtations with a woman of the second order at Rome, was told that he would not dare to continue them when her cavaliere servente was present. He therefore went and sat down upon the lady’s knees, and the cavaliere servente gave him three boxes on the ear, which he took very quietly—merely remarking that he was unfortunate in not having his pistols in his pocket. He afterwards complained of the affront tothe Venetian Ambassador, but a Roman lady said to him that she wondered how he dared to enter the company of ladies after an affair of that kind. The Viscount de la Rochefoucault remarked that in Rome a man who gives a blow is generally considered “un brutal,” and that he who receives it is pitied. The cavaliere servente was said to be the gentleman of I forget what Prince; while Signor Pisani belonged to the illustrious family which gave so many heroes to the republic of Venice.
An Italian Countess was about to be interred one day, when an order arrived from the Secretary of State for the body to be opened, on suspicion of her death having been caused by poison. On examination it was found to be so, and it was supposed that she was poisoned by a servant who was bribed by her relations; for the deceased had been a great devotee, and it was feared that, if she made a will, she would leave all her money to the Church.
The Elector-Palatine, after talking some time to the Princess Santa Croce, went to pay his compliments to some other lady. Whereupon Signora Mobilia Falconieri, the mother of the Princess, flew into a violent passion, and told her daughter she wondered how she could submit to such anaffront. Whenshewas young, she would never have permitted a gentleman to leave her to speak to any one else.
The following story was circulated in Rome, but it was denied by Prince Chigi. While the Prince was hunting on one of his estates, about twenty miles from Rome, a wild boar made great ravages on the lands of a poor man, his vassal. The latter complained several times, but always in vain, and at last one day shot the boar himself. The Prince’s gamekeeper, who saw him do this, raised his gun, fired, and killed the poor fellow on the spot. His widow presented a memorial to the Prince, begging redress of her wrongs, but he sent it back to her, with this answer, “Ci rimedia in cinghiale” (Give me redress in the matter of the wild boar). She then came to Rome and appealed to the Pope, who ordered the gamekeeper to be imprisoned, and the Prince to pay the woman fifteen crowns a month as long as she lived.
When the Constable de Bourbon’s troops sacked Rome, they carried away with them a large quantity of papers, among which were several notes showing where people had buried their money and plate. Many of the French afterwards returned, and by means of this information found muchhidden property. This circumstance may have given rise to the common belief of the Italians that the French are magicians.
At one time devout plays representing Paradise, Purgatory, and Hell, were acted in the theatre of Chaumont, a small town in Champagne. But by an unfortunate accident Paradise fell into Purgatory, and Purgatory into Hell, since which no more representations have been given, and the affair is known as “La Diablerie de Chaumont.”
A Polish Prince having said something impertinent to a lady at Rome, she answered: “Allez-vous-en; vous êtes un bel enfant.” “Madame,” he replied, “vous n’êtes ni l’un ni l’autre.” This happened some years ago.
Pope Rezzonico wanted to establish a feast in a little village, on the canonisation of St. Barbarigo, a relative of his family. As the villagers did not choose to go to the expense of a new picture, they stuck a portrait of the new saint with wax over a painting of St. Charles Borromée. But the candles being lighted and the church growing warm, the wax melted in the middle of the service, and the temporary saint tumbled down, leaving St. Charlestriumphant. On which some of the people exclaimed, “A miracle!” and declared that the Pope had wanted to impose a saint upon them, but the miracle proved that he was not a true saint.
When Cardinal Cornaro was Governor, a message was brought to him while attending the Pope at a function, stating that, in a quarrel between his coachman and another, Prince Borghese had cut to pieces the harness belonging to the latter. The Pope asked what was the matter, and Monseigneur Cornaro being taken by surprise, told the whole affair, and was ordered by his Holiness to confine the Prince to his own house. This was done; but the accusation was soon proved to be entirely false, and to have been got up to injure the Governor with the Prince, who only a few days before had sent him a pair of horses as a present. No apology was made to the Prince; only Cardinal Giraud was sent to him to say that Sovereigns might sometimes make mistakes, but their mistakes were not to be called in question.
The Abbess of the monastery of San Cesimato told us, after making many apologies for fear of scandalising Père Jacquier, who was with us, that she had dreamt that morning that the three years for her being abbess had terminated, and that allthe nuns came to desire her to continue in that office. Upon which she was in such a passion that she wished them all at the devil, and so loud that the whole dormitory heard her. She was very lively, and said that she took the veil at the age of fifteen, when she was so thin that everybody thought her in a consumption. She is now upwards of sixty, and blessed with quite sufficient “en bon point.”
The coachman of Monseigneur Gregori, who was about to be made a Cardinal, wounded his wife in a quarrel, and the poor woman was carried to an hospital. He insisted upon going in to see her—a thing never permitted in the part of the building allotted to women. Having a knife in his hand he tried to get in by force, but one of the people of the house picked up a big stone and frightened him away, at the same time calling to the sbirri to take him up. They were afraid, however, to do so when they heard that he was Monseigneur Gregori’s coachman, until the directors of the hospital told them that they would be answerable. They then carried him off to the prison at the Governo. Monseigneur Gregori sent immediately to the Governor, to say that he was going out and wanted his coachman, but the Governor returned for answer that he, too, wanted him.
Count Scutellari being with the Pope, his Holiness, to give more weight to an assertion, said, “Da galantuomo è vero.” The Count assured his Holiness that he need not have used so strong an expression, as he was obliged to believe him on half a word.
When the Governor (Spinelli) was very ill, a physician was sent for from Naples, who had been recommended as the head of the profession in that city. He said he wanted a man who was not afraid to deal with the Roman doctors. When he came they began, as usual, to give him an account of all the bleedings, &c., with which they had treated their patient. The Neapolitan, without waiting to hear the end of their story, ran up, caught Monseigneur Spinelli by the hand, and exclaimed, “Séi vive ancora!” The physicians, disconcerted at the expression, left the case in his hands, and the Governor has himself told us that he believes he owes his life entirely to this man. The Princess of Palestrine went to see him one day when he was at the worst, and as she was going out his people asked her what she thought of his state: “Why,” said she, “he appears to me beyond all hope of recovery; but he is Spinelli, and till you give him the last blow on the nose, like the cats he will escape.”