CHAPTER XI.
ANECDOTES—TALLEYRAND—CHARLES ALBERT—Masséna—FERDINAND OF SPAIN—LORD WELLESLEY—ALFIERI—CHARLES X.—DEATH OF MISS KNIGHT.
[In July, 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 to M. 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.
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 was a 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 a story 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 she been brought to bed of a son, Ferdinand would have lived a 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 as his 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. What is to 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 coronet of 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 companion who 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 in mature 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 whispered to 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 Marquis left 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.]