CHAPTER XI.
ANECDOTES—TALLEYRAND—CHARLES ALBERT—Masséna—FERDINAND OF SPAIN—LORD WELLESLEY—ALFIERI—CHARLES X.—DEATH OF MISS KNIGHT.
[InJuly, 1834, Miss Knight again crossed the Channel, and renewed her acquaintance with many of her old friends in Paris, which she left for Nice in the last week in October. Here she remained until the latter part of July, 1835, when she proceeded to Turin. Some of the anecdotes recorded in her journal, during this period of her life, though not all new, are worth preserving.]
The young King of Naples [the late monarch], while reviewing his cavalry the other day (September, 1834), was displeased at the manner in which they performed their manœuvres, and, to punish them, led them to the bank of a river, into which he plunged, swam his horse across, and made them do the same, to their great astonishment.
A man, who squints very much, was talking toM. de Talleyrand about public affairs, and wound up by saying: “Enfin, Prince, tout va de travers.” To which the other replied: “Oui, monsieur, comme vous voyez.”
It is said that in a late debate which terminated in the resignation of several of the Ministers, Lord Stanley handed over to Sir James Graham a scrap of paper, on which he had written with a pencil: “Johnny will upset the coach”—meaning, of course, Lord John Russell.
Some one having remarked to Talleyrand, when he was living on his estate in banishment from the Court during the later years of Bonaparte’s reign, that he must find the life he led “bien monotone,” the Prince replied: “Monsieur, le monotone fut le berceau de la vie.”
Sir Edward Sugden, a celebrated lawyer who has lately come into Parliament, having heard that he had been turned into ridicule for being the son of a hairdresser, made answer: “So I am, and I am come into the House to give a dressing to the Whigs.”
Sir Walter Scott told Mr. Howard, of Corby, that the only verses David Hume ever wrote were made at an inn in that neighbourhood. They were as follows:
Chickens in eggs at breakfast sprawl;Godless boys God’s glory squall;Scotchmen’s heads adorn the wall;Corby’s walks atone for all.
Chickens in eggs at breakfast sprawl;Godless boys God’s glory squall;Scotchmen’s heads adorn the wall;Corby’s walks atone for all.
Chickens in eggs at breakfast sprawl;Godless boys God’s glory squall;Scotchmen’s heads adorn the wall;Corby’s walks atone for all.
Chickens in eggs at breakfast sprawl;
Godless boys God’s glory squall;
Scotchmen’s heads adorn the wall;
Corby’s walks atone for all.
These lines were probably written soon after the affair of ’45, and I suppose the “Scotchmen’s heads” were exposed on the walls of Carlisle.
Mr. Howard was one day at a great dinner party which the late Duke of Norfolk gave to several of his neighbours. He sat at the bottom of the table, the Duke being at the head, and one of the gentlemen who sat near the Duke called out to him and said: “Mr. Howard, will you drink a glass of wine with me? There was a connexion between our families.” “With a great deal of pleasure, sir,” replied Mr. H., “though I don’t know exactly what the connexion is; but in this county there have been several marriages between neighbours.” “Why, sir,” resumed the gentleman, “your ancestor, Lord William Howard, hung up twenty-three out of twenty-seven of my family, and you must own that wasa tie.” This reminded me of an anecdote I heard at Brighton. General Dalrymple, who was between ninety and a hundred years of age, was introduced by the King to Lord Errol as an old friend. “Ah! my Lord,” said the General, “the last of your family I have seen was Lord Kilmarnock’s head on Temple-bar.”
An English lady at Paris, who was obliged to have an arm taken off, six months afterwards married the surgeon who performed the operation. On which a French gentleman remarked “Elle lui a donné la main pour lui avoir coupé le bras.”
The King of Sardinia (Charles Albert) is very kind and obliging to the French Royalists who are at Turin. The Duke de F——, with whom he is connected, has an employment about the Court—he had been severely wounded, and lost a leg in the affair of the Three Days. The King heard that the Duke was anxious to visit the King and Royal Family at Prague, but that his finances were not favourable to so long a journey. His Majesty, therefore, thought of an expedient which would enable the Duke to gratify his loyalty, without his feelings being wounded. “Duke,” he said, “would you do me the favour to choose some horses for me (at such a place) in Bohemia; and as your best way will be through Prague, of course you will pay your respects to the Royal Family there.” As the journey was on the King’s service, the Duke could feel no reluctance about having his expenses paid.
The Countess de B. told me the other day that her mother was once remarking to Cardinal Costa, a very clever man, that she could not help feeling indignant at the conduct of certain Ministers as being without good faith or probity. “Ah, ma chère dame,” he replied, “quand il s’agit de la politique, il faut se rappeler que ce ne sont pas des gens baptisés.”
Masséna was a native of the county of Nice; when he was here after the Restoration he told astory of what happened to him once when he had the command of the French army in Spain. Early in the morning of an expected battle he walked through the camp, disguised by a soldier’s cloak, that he might judge of the disposition of his men. He heard three of them talking together about the forthcoming engagement. One said: “Ah! I hope I shall get a pair or two of stockings, for mine are worn out.” Another wished for the acquisition of a couple of shirts, as his own were in rags. Turning to the third, they said: “And what do you want? You say nothing.” The young man answered: “What do I care about stockings and shirts? I want to do something that will get me the cross of the Legion of Honour, and then I may rise like our general to be an officer and a marshal of France, for he began like myself as a ‘pauvre gredin.’”
Many stories are told respecting the death of Ferdinand (of Spain) and his will. Some say that he had signed a codicil revoking his disposal of the crown, and restoring Don Carlos to his rights; but that the Queen, on her return from hunting, finding him dead, and having been told of the codicil, sought for it in his secrétaire and in the drawers of a table where he kept papers. Being unable to find the secret place in which it was deposited, she ordered the two pieces of furniture to be burned. Others go still further, and pretend that, had shebeen brought to bed of a son, Ferdinand would have liveda little longer, &c. &c. It must, however, be remembered, that where great personages are concerned, and party spirit prevails, there are many inventions. The character of Don Carlos is certainly that of an honest man, even by the account of his enemies. I recollect hearing the late Duke of Gloucester say that Mina told him that, although he was not himself of the party of Don Carlos, he believed him to be the honestest man of the family.
I forget who told me the following anecdote of the Marquis of Wellesley, when Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. He was at table with a party of Irish gentlemen who were chiefly Orangemen, and in the dining-room hung a painting of the battle of the Boyne, which in that country is usually called the Victory of Boyne Waters. The company wishing him to pronounce an opinion, invited him to change his seat. “Surely, my Lord,” said one, “you would not turn your back on Boyne Waters?” Lord Wellesley answered, pointing to a bottle of claret that stood before him: “Oh, I never look at water when I can get wine.”
Count Alfieri, one morning, as he was sitting with the Countess of Albany, was informed that Napoleon had just issued orders for several children of the first families of Florence, as of other great cities of Italy, to be sent to Paris to serve ashis pages, and afterwards enter the army. One asked, “What could be done?” Another, “How could it be avoided?” A third remarked, “If they go, their principles will be perverted, and they will be estranged from their country; and if they are not sent, their parents will be persecuted, ruined, imprisoned. Whatisto be done with them?” Alfieri suddenly exclaimed, with great energy, “Ammazzarli!”[113]
[At Turin Miss Knight remained throughout the entire year 1836, the political events of which she sums up in a few lines. “This year,” she writes, “has been fruitful in events. Spain and Portugal in commotion, and now three parties in the former. In France an attempt to assassinate Louis Philippe; and young Louis Napoleon Bonaparte arrested at Strasburg, for his mad attempt to gain the throne—a plot supposed to have an extensive ramification. Death of Charles X., at Goritz. Loss of the French at Constantine. Great political disputes in England, and violent party spirit. A dreadful hurricane felt there, in Holland, and some other countries. Great inundations in France.” There are several miscellaneous anecdotes, however, recorded in her journal, which are not without interest.]
At a ball given by Count M., at Vienna, the French Ambassador, M. de St. Aulaire, expressed to the Countess his great admiration of a coronetof diamonds she had on her head. “Ah! quelle belle couronne, Madame la Comtesse!” “Au moins,” she replied, “elle n’est pas volée.”
It has been remarked that during the long series of Princes of the House of Savoy, neither assassinations, nor family quarrels of any political consequence, nor acts of unjust usurpation, have stained the annals of their history; an observation that could not be justly applied to any other royal family now possessed of European thrones, or to any other list of European sovereigns. The far greater number of these Princes of Savoy have been good monarchs, and many of them distinguished for their bravery and military talent.
It is said that Tasso conceived his beautiful idea of the Garden of Armida from the views in the neighbourhood of Turin, and particularly from the spot where stands the “vigna,” or villa, of Sir Augustus Foster. The garden which is said to have inspired him with the original conception is supposed to have been what is now called the Old Park. Tasso was on a visit to the Duke of Savoy.
A celebrated surgeon, named Livois, who was in the French army, took compassion on a dog whose leg had been fractured by a shot during the siege of some place or another. He set the bones, and cured him. Some time afterwards he found waiting at his door the same dog, with a companionwho had a broken leg, and whom he evidently wished to introduce to him. The surgeon cured this second dog also, and mentioned the circumstance to the Countess du C., who repeated it to me.
Charles X., who expired at Goritz, in Styria, in the night between the 5th and 6th of November, 1836, had entered upon the eightieth year of his age in the preceding month. He was active and cheerful to the moment at which he was seized by the fatal malady which closed his mortal existence in less than thirty hours. During this time he suffered greatly, but died tranquil and resigned, forgiving his enemies, those who had injured him, and those who had been misled. He had visited the Princess of B. and his nephews, the sons of Don Carlos, on his way to Goritz, where he was about to establish himself with his family. The 4th of November, St. Charles’s day and his own fête, he had celebrated with a few friends, and he had been received with great cordiality by the inhabitants of Goritz.
It has always appeared to me that Charles X. was the true model of a gentleman. He was agreeable, unaffected, and amiable in the best sense of the word, and an affectionate and faithful friend. His look came from the heart, and what he said, however gratifying, could not be suspected of flattery. If in his youth he was gay, his conduct inmature age was respectable, without prejudice or ostentation. His piety was sincere and fervent; and, without presumption, I think we may venture to say that he has made a blessed exchange. The Duchess of Hamilton told me that he said to her at Holyrood, speaking of the Revolution of 1830: “I meant well; therefore I lay my head down peaceably to rest.”
A banker having observed that one of the ladies whom we call “exclusives” always bowed most graciously to him when she took money at his bank, but did not return his bow when he passed her in the street, one day, when he met her, took out a gold piece of twenty francs, and presenting it to her, said: “C’est un peu cher, mais je serais bien aise d’avoir un bon salut.”
In the island of Sardinia there are many persons who live in the mountains, chiefly in the open air, for they have no habitations, but sometimes seek refuge in caves. They are remarkably brave, active, and revengeful, bearing animosity against those with whom they are at variance from father to son. They are called banditti, and are punishable by the laws of the Piedmontese Government when they can be caught, but they do not attack travellers, nor commit any robberies. Some of them, it seems, lived not very far from the castle of the Marquis de B., and between eight and nine one evening, while he was at table, his butler whisperedto him that one of their chiefs, whose name he knew, wished to speak to him. He ordered him to be shown into his own room, and then went to him. He was a man between forty and fifty years of age, but his hair, including a long beard, was already quite grey. He was armed with pistols, dagger, and musket, and had with him a dog, as had also each of his companions. These were four in number, and one of them, a young man of twenty-one, remarkably handsome. The chief pressed the hand of the Marquis, and said that he trusted to his honour, and was sure he would not betray him, but that he wished to ask him to obtain, if possible, their pardon. The Marquis could not promise this, but assured him he should not be betrayed. “If he were,” cried one of his companions, “we would defend him to the last, and even die with him.” The Marquis gave orders to his butler to invite them to supper, which they readily accepted. They sat down, each with his dog by his side, but, before they would touch anything, the chief said to the butler, “I must beg you to begin; not that I expect any treachery here, but some of our companions were poisoned at a supper. Pray excuse me.” The butler complied; and when they had finished their meal they retired, with many thanks. At a short distance from the castle a large party of this tribe were posted on a slight eminence to protect their friends. When the Marquisleft the castle he saw them there, and they cried out to him, “Buon viaggio!” This happened in June, 1836.
The Sardinian gentlemen and ladies speak Italian, but they have also a dialect which, of course, is that of the common people: it is said to be a mixture of Spanish and Arabic. In their persons they mostly resemble the Spaniards. The country is picturesque, but roads and inns are still wanting. It appears to be the intention of the Piedmontese Government to render Sardinia similar to the States of Italy, but it will require much time to ascertain the inclinations of all classes for the new mode of existence.
[On the 14th of June, 1837, Miss Knight took leave of her numerous friends in Turin, and set out for Paris, where she arrived on the 22nd—“longæ finis chartæque viæque.” Her wanderings and her journals were alike approaching their termination. The last entry in her Diary was made on the 4th of December, and refers merely to the visits she made that day. Two days afterwards she was taken ill, and on the 17th of December, 1837, she closed her long and well-regulated life, in the 81st year of her age.]
EXTRACTS FROM MISS KNIGHT’S JOURNAL.
[The following passages are extracted from Miss Knight’s Diaries. They illustrate the Autobiographical Memoir in the first volume. The narrative would have been impeded by their insertion there; but they are of sufficient interest to form a welcome addition to the more continuous story of Miss Knight’s life.]
December 30.—At eight in the morning we went to the church of St. Louis to see the consecration of Monseigneur l’Abbé de Bernis as Bishop of Apollonia. A little before nine the Cardinal, the Abbé, and Monsignore de Bayane arrived, the organ playing as they entered, and soon after they went to the door to receive the Pope, whom they followed into the church, the organ playing, and the choir singing “Ecce Sacerdos Magnus.” The Pope, the Cardinal, and the new Bishop then went and prayedat the altar in the chapel of St. Louis; after which they walked up into the choir, where the Pope again prayed at the great altar. The Bishop was then presented to him and kissed his feet, and the Pope embraced him. The Cardinal de Bernis stood beside a small altar prepared for the Bishop on his left hand, and by his side were Monsignori Onesti, Doria, Stacy, Bayane, and other prelates, who now proceeded to dress the Pope. Cardinal de Bernis brought him the napkin to wipe his hands, and took it again from him. In the mean while the two assisting Bishops (the Archbishop of Athens, the Pope’s almoner, and the Bishop of Carpentras) had the new Bishop dressed, whose robes were very fine, white and gold, with white buskins, having a cross embroidered on them, &c. &c. He was then again presented to the Pope, and seated in a chair opposite to his Holiness, who read to him the Articles of Faith and the duties of a Bishop. After every interrogative, he had to answer and make a genuflexion. After this, the Pope anointed his hands and the tonsure at the top of his head, for which purpose a bandage was tied round his head, and another over his hands fastened round the neck—he himself kneeling all the time. The Pope afterwards put the cross on him, the mantle, and the ring (a very beautiful one); when he prostrated himself before the great altar and made his profession of faith and his vows as a Bishop. He thenrose, and the Pope gave him his benediction, put a gold mitre on his head, and, placing the crosier in his hand, seated him in his own chair before the great altar, himself standing beside him, and the Bishops, who never quitted him, standing on the other side. Those wore mitres of white cloth, which alone are permitted to be worn in the Pope’s presence except by a new Bishop. Monseigneur de Bernis now rose, made a reverence to the Pope, and asked permission to give his benediction, which his Holiness granted, telling him only to go on the other side, that it might not fall upon him (the Pope). He then came down the church, giving the benediction, with his Bishops on each hand, and returned again to his chair at the great altar, the canons of the church singing the “Te Deum.” The Pope next gave him the Kiss of Peace, which went round to the two other Bishops; after which he was seated opposite the Pope, who delivered a discourse (called a homily) thirty-five minutes in length. In this he made compliments to the Cardinal de Bernis and the Bishop, who both rose and bowed in acknowledgment. He also gave a geographical description of Apollonia, and said it was probably so called from there having been a temple there dedicated to Apollo. He remarked how lamentable it was that it should be in the hands of infidels, but he did not intend to send the Bishop there, but only to Alby, which he must consideras another Apollonia. When he named St. Peter and St. Paul, he beat his breast, and sighed most vehemently. As soon as he had finished, the Cardinal went up and thanked him, and the Bishop did the same, adding that he hoped to acquit himself of his duty in the manner he desired. The Pope replied that he had no doubt about it; gave a general benediction, and went to a chapel, where he said another mass. In the mean time all the prelates, &c., congratulated the Cardinal and Monseigneur, after which his Eminence embraced his nephew in the most affectionate manner. The Pope having now finished his mass, the Cardinal accompanied him out, and shut the door of his carriage, while the Bishops, &c., kneeled down, and the ceremony thus terminated.
In one of the tribunes over the choir were three Cardinals, and in the opposite one the Pope’s niece and the foreign Ministers. The organ gallery was allotted for the French, English, and other strangers, but it was too far removed for them to see much. Most of the French and English gentlemen stood beside the balustrade of the choir, and we were in a grated tribune erected for the purpose, with the Princess Rezzonico, the Duchess of Lanti, Marchesa Castiglioni, a Milanese, and other ladies. The Pope ranted like a country comedian in the part ofOthello. Cardinal de Bernis acted his part with his usual dignity, sense, and goodness, and Monseigneurde Bernis went through his fatiguing office with the decency of a good Christian and the propriety of a man of fashion, without affectation, negligence, or bigotry—extremes which appear to me very difficult to avoid in the midst of such a mockery of religion. The Maggiordomo, at the Pope’s expense, gave a grand dinner on the occasion, to which he invited the Cardinals of the palace, the Senator, the Ministers connected with France, and the principal Roman Princes, to meet the Cardinal and Monseigneur. The latter presented twelve crowns for a dinner to the Canons of St. Louis, three sequins each to the under people of the church, a crown to the sweepers, and half-a-crown to the domestics, besides five sous each to all the poor who were present.
On the morning of the 6th of January, Monseigneur de Bernis went to St. Peter’s, where he stood amongst the other Bishops till the Pope called him to the foot of the throne. This ceremony is styled making the “Vescovi assistenti al Soglio,” who are always seated on the steps of the Pope’s throne, and assist him on public occasions. This honour entitles Monseigneur to the privilege of making three Prothonotaries and eight Knights of the Golden Spurs. He intends to give one of these golden spurs to Belcour, his valet-de-chambre, andthe others to some of the Cardinal’s people. Cournau, his Eminence’s maître d’hôtel, already possesses this distinction. Monseigneur de Bernis is likewise entitled, in virtue of this dignity, to send every morning to the palace for his bread and his wine, which he gives to his valet-de-chambre. The bulls for this ceremony cost him 150 crowns.
The Grand-Duke Paul and his Duchess arrived at Rome under the names of Count and Countess of the North, and with them one of her brothers, a Prince of Würtemberg. Madame de Beckersdorff and two maids of honour were also with them, and the first seemed to be her intimate friend, and a very pleasing person. The Grand-Duke, though not tall, had a good figure, but his face was Calmuck. His manners were good, and he talked agreeably to those who were introduced to him. The Grand-Duchess was, like most of her family, very handsome. She was tall, her figure majestic, and her features and complexion very fine. Her manners were dignified and gracious. We were introduced to them at a concert given by the Cardinal de Bernis for the birth of the Dauphin. Princess D.,[114]who had been staying some time atRome with her son and married daughter, came to the fête dressed in black. She was considered by the Grand-Duke and Duchess as a spy on their proceedings; and, at all events, the part which she was supposed to have taken in the imprisonment and death of the Grand-Duke’s father must have rendered the sight of her very painful to them. Unmindful of this, she seated herself at the concert as near as possible to the Grand-Duke, just behind him to the right. He was greatly annoyed, and, turning towards her, said: “Madame, on ne vient pas habillé en noir à la fête d’un souverain.” Princess D. gave as an excuse the assurance that, as she was about to leave Rome, all her other dresses were packed up. The Grand-Duke replied: “On peut toujours rester à la maison.”
The Princess was a short, fat, middle-aged woman, with a very red face and harsh countenance; and the broad red riband and star, which she wore in the way such decorations are worn by men, added to her formidable appearance. It is said she was only eighteen years of age when the death of the Emperor Peter took place, and that, seated at a table with two pistols before her, she waited for the news with the intention, if it proved contrary to her wishes, of killing the messenger with one and herself with the other.[115]Pistols, we were told, shealways carried about with her; and, notwithstanding the services she had rendered to the Empress Catherine, and the strange masculine honours conferred upon her in return—such as this decoration, and her being made President of the Academy of Sciences—it is evident that her absence was more agreeable to her Imperial mistress than her presence would be, for she was many years in England, Scotland, and Italy. She would not allow her daughter to live with her husband, and she used to lock up her son, who must have been turned of twenty, every night. How unlike to her amiable and excellent brother. It is said that she had a sister who was gentleness itself. One would wish to think that Princess Dashkoff was in some measure misrepresented. I recollect saying something to her son, with whom I was a little acquainted, about the maids of honour attending on the Grand-Duchess, and I naturally expressed myself in the terms, “the ladies of the Grand-Duchess.” The young man, who just before had been talking to me with the civility usually shown to a young woman, suddenly reddened, and looked quite savage. “Madame,” said he, “the Grand-Duchess has no ladies; she has no right to have any. They are the ladies of our august sovereign, who allows them to attend upon the Grand-Duchess in her travels.” Does not this put one in mind of a remark made by Bonaparte: “Pour peu qu’on y gratte on trouve le Tartare?”
We paid our respects to the Grand-Duke and Duchess, as did all the company at Rome, at their own apartments. They seemed much pleased with all they saw, and with the society. After Princess D. left, they were perfectly at their ease. There was at that time no Russian Ambassador, or Minister, at Rome. I afterwards heard that they were not so comfortable at Naples.
A tailor at Rome made a coat for the Grand-Duke. When he brought it home the sleeves were found to be too long. “I suppose,” said the Prince, “you have heard that kings have long arms; but mine as yet are only rags.” He and the Grand-Duchess appeared to be very domestic, and liked to talk of their children. I remember the Grand-Duchess showing us portraits of some of themen silhouette. Her dress was very magnificent at Cardinal de Bernis’ fête. It was white, trimmed with the most valuable sables, over which hung large pearls in garlands, fastened with diamond knots of great size and splendour.
On the 1st of March we went to Cardinal de Bernis’. On account of the fêtes given by him in honour of the birth of the Dauphin, torches and guards were placed at the corners of all the streets leading to his house. The front and both sides of his palace were illuminated with four immensewax-lights in each window, which made a most brilliant appearance. All the carriages went in by the back way, none being permitted to pass in front of the palace, as opposite to it and before the church of St. Marcel an elegant amphitheatre had been erected for music, for the amusement of the populace; the decorations were very pleasing, and had a delightful effect from the windows. The rooms were all decorated in a festal manner, with a great deal of gilding and many looking-glasses; the gallery with trophies on a gold ground, and the ceiling with fleurs-de-lys and dolphins. At the end of the gallery, within the columns, was an amphitheatre for the musicians, who were all in uniform. An infinite number of lights, perfectly well arranged, were scattered about, and two rows of seats were placed round both rooms for the company. As we were going up-stairs we met the cardinal, attended by his gentlemen, servants, &c., with eight torches and eight candles, going to receive the Grand-Duke and Duchess, for whom chairs had been placed across the gallery between the columns. The Princess of Palestrine, who did the honours of the Cardinal’s house, seated herself beside them for a short time, but after a while gave her place to the Pope’s niece. The Cardinal stood behind the Grand-Duchess, as also did Monseigneur de Bernis. The Prince of Würtemberg would not sit down, but stood beside the Cardinal. Thelady who accompanies the Grand-Duchess, with the two maids of honour, were placed near, but there was an immense crowd. Immediately afterwards began the cantata, which lasted an hour. The poetry of it—in honour of the Dauphin—was composed by a secretary of the Pope’s nephew, and the music by a Maestro di Capella of the Pope. The Grand-Duke and Duchess were very attentive, and after refreshments had been offered to them, which they declined, they went and sat down in the next room, whither most of the company followed them. Soon after we were seated the Cardinal brought the Grand-Duke up to us, and presented us in the most affectionate manner. He then presented the Duchess Bobadilla and another lady who sat beside us, but the Grand-Duke immediately returned to us and entered into conversation, until he was called off by two letters being brought to him by express. He talked to us in the most polite and attentive manner, and expressed a desire for us to visit Russia. Upon our mentioning that we were acquainted with Admiral Knowles, he inquired with great affection after Miss Knowles and Sir Charles, and said he had much regretted the Admiral’s departure. When we told him that the son was a captain in the navy, he remarked that the post of captain in the English navy was a most respectable rank, with many other things that showed equally his senseand good-breeding. He speaks French perfectly well. They went away soon afterwards, when we returned into the gallery and heard some very good music, and did not get home till past twelve. On the following night there was, if possible, more company than on the previous one, and everything still more in gala. The Grand-Duke and Duchess came early, and were placed as before, only they made the Princess of Palestrine sit between them, and, when she went into the next room, the Cardinal de Bernis. They were exceedingly pleased, and made themselves very agreeable. The cantata was written by the same author as the other, but the music was by Cimarosa, and infinitely finer. They stayed to hear two other pieces of music, and then passed into the other room, where they remained till near ten. The Grand-Duchess was elegantly dressed, and looked exceedingly well: the Grand-Duke wore a plain coat with superb diamond buttons. I sat by the lady who accompanies the Duchess, and found her very agreeable: she is a German. The music lasted till after eleven, and was very fine. The palace and the street in front of it, with the orchestra opposite, were as light as day. The Academy of France was also lighted up, and had an orchestra in the same manner. On the Sunday before, all the money sent by the King of France to pay for this fête was given away by the Cardinal in doweries—fiftycrowns each to one hundred and fifty brides in Rome, and twenty-five crowns each to two hundred at Albano. The Bishop of Apollonia administered the Sacrament, and handed the orders to them to receive the money at once, instead of waiting till they were married, as is usually the case. At a little after six on the next day we went to pay our respects to the Grand-Duke and Duchess, and found there the Princess Doria, the Princess Santa Croce, and another lady, with the German lady, the friend of the Duchess. The Cardinal de Bernis and several other gentlemen were also there. We went immediately into the next room, where the Grand-Duchess received us at the door, the Grand-Duke standing behind her. She told my mother that she had saluted her the night before, and had curtseyed twice, adding, very politely, that as her husband had made our acquaintance, she also much wished to do so. She then had chairs placed round, and desired us all to be seated. She chatted much about Rome, and told Cardinal de Bernis that she would never leave it were it not for her children. The Grand-Duke came and talked to us for some time with the greatest good-humour and affability. The Duchess was very desirous that the gentlemen likewise should sit down, and told a gentleman who accompanies them, and whom she calls “Mon Général,” to set them the example. When we took our leave, she assured my mother that she should bealways very happy to see us; that her husband was so pleased with making our acquaintance, that she was likewise very anxious for it, &c. &c. In short, nothing could be more flattering and attentive than their reception of us. They appear very much attached to one another.[116]The Duchess’s figure is certainly very fine, and improves upon one, while the Grand-Duke is so genteel and pleasing in his manners, that his person seems to me at present far from disagreeable.
On the 14th we went to take leave of the Count and Countess of the North. They received us with the greatest goodness. The Count told me he regretted infinitely that we had not met oftener; that our visit then, though it made him happy, was rather a pain than a pleasure; that it was not their fault they had not seen us every day, but as there were so many things to see they usually returned home too late to receive company, and could not make an exception to a general rule, or they would have received us at any time; that hehad inquired whether we were at the concert at Princess Doria’s, and would have come to us, but the devil of etiquette prevented him. He pressed exceedingly that we should go to St. Petersburg, saying his house and the whole city should be at our disposal. I then ventured to say that, if we were not so happy as to travel so far, my mother hoped that the Count and Countess of the North would permit us to take the liberty of requesting their interest with the Grand-Duke and Duchess for any of our English sea officers who, if there was a peace in our distracted country, might be ambitious of serving in Russia. He replied that they had some credit with those personages, and nothing would make him happier than to be of service to us, or to any of our friends; that my mother and I had only to write to him and mention how far they were in our esteem, and he would treat them accordingly, as he was sure my mother knew the Navy too well, and was too nice to recommend any who were not deserving. “Believe me,” he added, “upon my honourI wish nothing more than to be useful to you. I beg you will be assured of my sincerity, and I hope you will soon put it to the proof. But if it should be ten or twenty years’ hence, you may be equally sure of it, for I could not forget you even if I were inclined to do so; and I am certain that if I were not in the world, the Countess would do the same. I think power is never so agreeable as when it canmake one useful to one’s friends, and, as such, I desire you will ever consider us.” He repeatedly urged us to go to St. Petersburg; and upon my remarking how difficult it was to travel in time of war, he said, war had nothing to do with our going there, because even if there was a war in Russia, it could not be one disagreeable to us. He added, that when he was master of himself there was nothing he would not do for us, but, as it was, he could be of some use to us in St. Petersburg. The Countess was also excessively kind to us, and pressed us strongly to go to Russia, and, indeed, said the most obliging and flattering things. She bade me draw everything at Rome as fast as possible, and meet them at St. Petersburg—with many more of the kindest expressions. She said it gave her great pain to go away just as she was beginning to make acquaintances, and that she should have wished to have cultivated a friendship with Cardinal de Bernis and with us; that she had but small hopes of meeting him again, but would always retain a regard for him. As for us, she said she would not give up the idea of again seeing us, and that she should quit us with tears in her eyes, adding the most affectionate expressions of kindness. The persons who accompany the Count and Countess are all perfectly well chosen. The maids of honour are both well behaved and good natured, and the General’s lady is very amiable.
The Pope mentioned one night at supper that the “barcarole” that brought him from Venice had since gained three hundred crowns, at half a baioccho from each person, by letting people kiss the place where he was seated, adding: “Quanto mi piace di vedere la fede di questi buoni Veneziani!” He also said that one of his gloves having fallen from his hand was instantly cut into a thousand pieces for relics.
The Pope having lately found an obelisk, has had it removed to Monte Cavallo, where it is to be placed between the two statues. The expense and trouble were no slight matter. The other day the following inscription was placed on it: “Fac ut lapides isti panes fiant.” Infinite pains were taken to discover the author and have him punished, and on the following morning was written beneath the other: “The author is St. Luke, chap. iv. 3.”
The Pope stayed two nights and a day at Cesena, and ordered his bed to be placed in the room in which he was born. His people were so little used to travelling, that they forgot the chocolate-cup, and, after much searching in the town where they happened to be, they told the Pope there was not one to be got fit for his use. “Well, then,” said he, “give me the chocolate in a pipkin.” When thePope wanted to change his linen, the valise in which it was packed happened to be two hours behind on the road. The baggage-cart broke down, and, it seems, caused the oddest confusion ever beheld, mitres and chalices tumbling about amongst pots and pans. It resembled the furniture of a playhouse, and a gentleman remarked that the Pope was a good actor, and was now removing his theatre to Vienna. He is a strolling player, then, said another. Some one expressing a certain curiosity as to the sort of honours the Emperor would show the Pope at Vienna, a bystander replied: “He will probably dispense with Lent, and give his Holiness a masked ball.”
Princess Dashkoff being with other strangers in the gallery of the Senate-house at Venice, where it is not permitted to open the door after the sitting commences, insisted upon going out, exclaiming aloud, “Ces perruques m’ennuient.” She made so much noise that the senators sent up to desire her to be quiet, but she only repeated that “shewouldgo out.” Upon this, one of the senators said: “Gentlemen, shall we have a ballot to see whether this mad woman shall go out or not?” It was then put to the vote and carried in the affirmative, and, the door being opened, the Princess went out by herself.
There is a negro woman at Rome much protected by the Queen of Portugal. She is dressed in red, and goes about with a Madonna in a box, asking alms for founding a monastery in Portugal for negro girls under the protection of the father and mother of St. Joachim. She went to the Pope to ask his permission, and mentioned the saints who were to be the patrons of her order. The Pope answered, that he had no doubt but what the father and mother of St. Joachim were good people, but they were not on his list.
A Cardinal’s cook in time of Lent having made up all his “maigre” dishes with the gravy and fat of meat, went to confession, and, among other sins, mentioned this one. The confessor, however, refused to give him absolution until he promised that he would no longer make his master violate Lent. Faithful to his promise, the cook changed his sauces, whereupon the Cardinal complained bitterly that his dinners were not so good as formerly, and the cook was called up, and obliged to tell his story. The Cardinal inquired the name of his confessor, and having sent for him, remonstrated with him for meddling with the private government of his family. The friar replied, that the cook’s salvation was in danger if he had continued to give his mastergrasinstead ofmaigre. “Well,” exclaimed the Cardinal,“and do you think it reasonable that, to save the soul of such a low fellow as that, you should expose my Eminence to the discomfort of fasting!”[117]
During the time the affair of the Jesuits was in agitation, whenever Cardinal Marefoschi went to visit Cardinal de Bernis, a valet-de-chambre in the house of the latter, and who was also a spy, used to hang a white handkerchief out at the top of a chimney, to mark the commencement and termination of the visit, as a signal to the Jesuits at the Roman College, who looked out from the top of their church for it.
On Wednesday morning, February 27th (1782), the Pope set out for Vienna at half-past nine in the morning. The Grand-Duke and Duchess of Russia, who have been every day to St. Peter’s to see him, were there between six and seven waiting to take leave of his Holiness. They had some conversation with him, and the Grand-Duke attended him to his carriage. Monsignore Marcucci, Vicegerent and Patriarch of Constantinople, and Monsignore Contesini, Archbishop of Athens, both men of very low extraction, accompanied him, besides some inferior persons of his household. The streets were lined with people, far beyond Ponte Molle. Many Romangentlemen rode on horseback before him for several miles. The Pope threw himself almost out of the carriage in order to bestow his benedictions upon the people, who kept crying aloud: “Santo Padre, la benedizione prima di partire;” and others, “Buon viaggio.” It is said that the Minister of Portugal, when he went with his lady and child to take leave of the Pope, left upon the table a schedule for sixty thousand crowns, by the Queen’s command. The Venetians are to send twelve senators, among whom, it is supposed, will be the Doge, with four hundred men, to meet him on the frontiers and accompany him through their States. The King of Sardinia intends to wait upon his Holiness in person. The Pope’s nephew, Don Lewis, attended him to the coach, and held his hand for half a minute after he was in. He was in the most violent distress, and shed tears for three or four hours. His wife was at the Villa Papa Giulia to take leave of his Holiness, and was likewise much affected. The Pope told her to take care of herself and go to her husband.
The Count and Countess of the North (Grand-Duke and Duchess of Russia), when they were at Naples, refused the Palace Giustiniani which the King had fitted up for their reception, but they dined at Court, and went to the balls and theatre. The King got up a hunt for them, to which they promisedto go, but afterwards sent word to decline it. The King, however, went, and did not return to Caserta till the day before their departure. On their journey to Pæstum, the King had engaged them to stop at one of his country-houses, to which he himself went the day before so as to be ready to receive them. After he was gone, they sent him word that they could not stop there. The Queen called for them in her carriage to take them to a balcony to see a horse-race, that had been got up on purpose for them, and to which they had agreed to go—and, after all, they would not. Whenever her Majesty called for them, she had to wait half an hour at their door. When they went away, the people hissed them. They were very affable, however, and good natured with artists. They called on Mr. Jenkins, to choose statues for the Empress, went all over his house, and stayed near two hours. The Duchess bought a beautiful Faun, a Faustina, in the shape of Venus, and a Genius. They were also at the studio of Mr. Hewetson, where they saw a fine monument which he is going to send to Ireland. They were much pleased with a small statue of Cleopatra in marble, which they purchased, and the Duchess sat to him for her bust.
As they passed through Milan, the Archduke and Duchess made a “Festino” for them. As there was not nobility enough in the town, and as the lower sort of people had never been admitted to their entertainments,they made experiment of a “Festino,” and let the latter come, and they behaved themselves very becomingly. Amongst other masks were two nuns and two friars, who walked about and conducted themselves quietly and well. After they had stayed about two hours, to the great surprise of the company, an officer was sent to them to say, that if they had remained long enough for their own pleasure, their departure would be agreeable to the company. They immediately went down stairs, followed by an infinite number of the curious, who saw them enter a carriage, the coachman and servants of which were masked, and who were ordered to drive to the Capucin convent, outside such a gate. They drove off in a violent hurry, and in a moment were out of sight, leaving the spectators in as much astonishment as uncertainty. It is generally supposed that it was a plan concerted to test the feelings of the people with regard to the Emperor’s projected abolition of convents.
The Prince of Solms was exceedingly pleased with a young lady who was in the year of her novitiate and about to become a nun. He fancied that his attentions were beginning to shake her resolution, and though the day of profession was near at hand, he fancied that she would prefer him to a cloister. One day, after he had paid her a long visit at the grate, and had no great reason to complainof her cruelty, she begged of him, as a particular favour, a lock of his hair. The Prince, confirmed in his flattering illusions by this request, immediately cut one off for her. At his next visit he found her particularly lively and agreeable. “May I presume,” he said, “to hope that you have given up all idea of a convent life, and have cast a favourable look upon myself?” “So great is my affection for you,” replied the lady, “that I have just finished making a wig for the Infant Jesus out of your hair, and if you come to my profession to-morrow you will see it on the altar.”
One day in April, 1783, a Frenchman, who had subsisted on charity, died in his thirty-third year, and was carried to the Madonna de’ Monte to be buried. His corpse was exposed there for several days before interment, and many miracles are told and believed as having been performed by him both before and after his death. His limbs were flexible, and he appeared asleep. Some say they smelt a perfume; others, a stink; others, again, nothing whatever. As they were lowering the body into the grave it nearly fell, when it put out one hand and supported itself on the bier, and this more than once—as the story runs. A dumb person recovered his speech, a lame person the use of his limbs, &c. The Abbé Marotti says that he has dined with a gentleman who was cured of a toothache by thetouch of a rosary that had been near the body; that the young Duke de Rignano was so frightened at hearing the dumb man speak, that he ran out of the church; and much more nonsense to the same effect. It is certain that the church has since been constantly crowded with people, and amongst them some persons of distinction, in whose presence a vein was opened, but no blood appeared. The man used to spend his whole time in praying, and was so dirty that millions of vermin crawled about him, none of which he would suffer to be killed, saying they had as much right to live as himself. There was found upon him a certificate from La Trappe, saying that he had been there, but that the discipline was so severe he had been obliged to quit it—adding, that his sanctity was so exemplary he would edify any place he went to. The stories told of him, such as his predicting the hour of his death, the cure of the butcher’s wife in whose house he died, &c., are too tedious and ridiculous to repeat.
Prince Altieri, who is blind, has been twice to the Madonna de’ Monti, in the hope that the supposed saint would restore his sight, but without effect. He has promised, that if this miracle be wrought in his favour, he will immediately erect a chapel to the saint.
Abbé Marotti says he is perfectly well acquaintedwith the priest who was his confessor at the Roman College, and who quotes two instances in which the “servo di Dio,” as they call the dead man, divined his thoughts. The Contestabile Colonna’s mother was carried the other day to the Madonna de’ Monti, in the hope that the saint would cure her madness. The church is now shut up—some say on account of the robberies, &c., committed there; others, because they are setting up a tombstone to the saint. The Princess Santa Croce assured us that she had never experienced greater consolation than in contemplating his dead body, and declared that it was many years since any such miracles have been performed. A Bostonian has abjured Protestantism at the Santo Uffizio, being convinced, according to his own report, by these miracles. His instructor was an ex-Jesuit, and it is probable that the true motive for his conversion was want of money, as he appears very shabbily dressed. The Duchess of Gallicano has given her infant the name of Benedetto, in honour of the new saint, whose name was Benoît Labré.
One of the best informed, and one of the most delightful persons in every respect whom I ever knew, was the Père Jacquier, a Minime of the French convent, the “Trinité du Mont.” His name was well known in England, as he and hisfriend, Père le Sueur, were the best commentators on Newton. His colleague had been dead a few years, and Père Jacquier was himself rather advanced in life, but his faculties were perfect, and he was as active in person as in mind. He was a native of Champagne, and became a monk when very young, there being no regulations at that time to prevent such early professions. He used to say that it was not by the desire of his parents, but that it was all arranged by an elder sister. His genius was both sound and versatile, and his acquirements very extensive. His proficiency in every branch of mathematics scarcely exceeded his taste for polite literature, the classical purity of his Greek and Latin compositions, and the correctness of his critical observations. He was also an excellent historian, and well versed in many modern languages. He was fond of society, and his manners were not only polished in the highest degree, but the beneficence of his disposition, and the sensibility of his heart, rendered them so peculiarly attractive, that he gained a new friend whenever he made a new acquaintance. His feelings were extremely acute, and the affection of those whom he loved and esteemed was the only treasure he was solicitous to keep. Never was there a more charitable man. He gave away all he had, and was, besides, ever ready to assist with his advice and influence all who applied to him.
In his youth he had been engaged in busy scenes with Cardinal Alberoni, and had lived with Voltaire, and Madame du Châtelet, and, indeed, with all the wits and philosophers then in fashion. He was also employed in the education of the Prince, afterwards Duke, of Parma. The friendship that existed between him and Père le Sueur was extraordinary. They agreed perfectly, because they had the same general views and the same goodness of principle, with diametrically opposite dispositions. Le Sueur had all the judgment, patience, and exactness necessary for the great work they had in hand, and Jacquier all the genius, fire, and penetration. In this social intercourse this opposition of qualities kept them from interfering with each other’s way of life, and the loss of such a friend as Le Sueur was never repaired to the survivor. I did not know Père Jacquier till some years after this trying event, which, I believe, threw him more than ever into general society. As I have already remarked, he was then an old man, but his imagination was as vivid, and his heart as warm, as ever.
Strangers, politicians, men of letters, men of fashion, were all alike desirous to become acquainted with Père Jacquier. There was no pedantry, no vanity, in his mode of conversing, but if he thought himself neglected he was very unhappy; not offended, but like a child whom itsparents have left at home. On this account Cardinal de Bernis used to say of him: “Le Père Jacquier a l’esprit d’un homme, et le cœur d’un enfant.” We used to see him almost every day, and he was so good as to take much pains with me in my studies. It so happened that an English naval officer came to Rome with a friend for a few weeks, and my mother was anxious that they should see everything most worthy of notice. This often engaged us so that we were not always at home at the hours Père Jacquier used to call. My mother found out that he was much vexed, and ordered me to write a note to him, to say that we had two friends who were very desirous to make his acquaintance, and would perhaps have some favour to ask of him. This set all right immediately: he became very intimate with them, and paid them every possible attention. He was a thoroughly good Christian, but by no means a bigot, and his intimacy with the philosophers made some people suspect his religious principles. But, for my part, I never heard a word from him which could be thought reprehensible by the severest moralist or most scrupulous Christian; and when some secret enemy wrote to the Bishop of his diocese, to complain of his frequenting the society of Voltaire and Madame du Châtelet, that prelate answered, “he wished those personages were always in such good company.” In fact, Père Jacquierhad seen enough of the philosophers to be able to estimate them at their just value. His heart was too warm to sympathise with their cold selfishness and hypocritical philanthropy, and his mind too enlightened to adopt the errors of their systematic infidelity. He would say it is impossible to investigate the earth and the skies without adoring the Creator, or to feel the weakness of our nature without being a Christian.
Pope Ganganelli would have secularised Père Jacquier, but he declined it. He admitted that, if he had to begin life again, he would not be a monk, but it was now too late to make a change without necessity. He was very well satisfied, he said, with his present situation, which did not deprive him of the pleasure of seeing his friends: any alteration, therefore, would only make people talk to no purpose. Besides his pension as professor at Rome, he had one from the Duke of Parma, but he gave everything away, and very often had no money left before the end of the quarter. I think it was in the beginning of February, and the weather rather colder than usual, that he came in one morning and complained of not being well. My mother remarked his dress, and said: “Why, you have got on your summer clothing already, and must have caught cold.” He went home, and was laid up for some days, and we afterwards learned that a poor person having asked him for money when hehad none to give, he had put on his summer dress and bestowed his winter one upon the mendicant.
Another day he came to us with a very pretty little watch in his hand, which he had won in a lottery. He was delighted with his prize, and begged me to accept of it, but my mother said: “Père Jacquier, I will tell you what to do with the watch. Take it to the man of whom you hire a carriage when you want one. I know you are exact in payment” (for that he was). “Let it be valued, and you will then have the pleasure of visiting your friends, whether it rain, or shine, for a long while.” He smiled and did as she advised, for he never liked to hire a carriage unless he could pay for it at once.
His conversation was full of anecdotes, which he related in the most clear and succinct manner. He was in correspondence with sensible and learned men of all countries, for he had no prejudices, but great discernment of character, and, though he liked to know every one who had a name in the world, he soon made the proper distinctions. One day, as we were looking at different portraits in a villa, the Chevalier de P., who was with us, observed one of Père Jacquier, and wrote under it the following lines, which are truly characteristic: