“At the same time with the Spanish princes and their suite, arrived at the château the commandant Henri, delegate and spy of the police, commissioned to keep close watch over the youthful heroes, and not to suffer them to leave his sight either night or day. I really think that the presence of this man was the only source of uneasiness or annoyance that the royal personages experienced during their stay. He was a hard and vulgar individual, whose life had been passed amid scenes of strife and treason, and he fulfilled the duties allotted to him with a pertinacity and minuteness which embittered the lives of those entrusted to his charge. Of course, from his position about the persons of the princes, he became at once the object of their hatred and contempt, and if in wantonness of power he often inflicted useless vexation, they in the wantonness of youth managed to revenge themselves with great ingenuity. Some of the scenes to which this state of things gave rise were most amusing. One of the greatest delights enjoyed by Don Ferdinand was, at the hour of prayer, night and morning, to compel the attendance of the commander, to whom, from his republican and anti-religious principles, the idea of bending to a Supreme Being was odious, and who would growl forth his republican oaths in cadence with the chant of the officiating priest. He had been wounded, too, in his youth, and in his age was stiff-jointed besides, so that to kneel was absolute agony.
“Don Ferdinand would provide amusement for the whole company, by assisting him with mock condescension to drop upon his knees, and would convulse them with laughter at the sly shoves and friendly pinches which this operation would give him the opportunity of bestowing. In vain the commander would seek to excuse himself from attending at this precise hour. No excuse would be taken; his royal charges would rather wait any length of time than dispense with his company. The annoyance grew so great for the poor commander, that all his days were embittered by the torture of that single hour, and the poor tormented princes were amply revenged by this gentle and gentlemanlike chastisement.
“Don Antonio, the dear good old soul, was at first much admired and venerated by every one around him, for the assiduity with which he visited the library of the château. Many and long, indeed, were the hours he spent there, much to the edification of those who, beholding the utter ignorance in which the princes had been brought up, began to hope that so much study and meditation on the part of the tutor would in good time turn to profit and improvement for his pupils. But alas! soon were the fond believers undeceived. The good old man suddenly ceased his visits to the library, and, on being questioned by the Princess de Benevent as to this sudden alteration in his mode of passing his time, he replied, with composure, “Thank God, my work is over, and I can smoke my cigaretto in the shade beneath the piazza, without the fear that the morals of my pupils may be corrupted by those naughty books.”
“‘Nay,’ replied the princess, ‘if your Excellency had but pointed out which were those you thought objectionable, I would have had them removed; my servants should have done it long ago, and saved you all this trouble.’
“‘Oh, do not mention trouble,’ replied the Don, with calm politeness; ‘besides, removing the books would have spoilt your library. It was only the vile Latin authors whom I dreaded; but fortunately, neither Don Ferdinand nor his brother can read them, and the engravings were soon removed by my care and trouble. I promise you, madame, not one remains, in all those books the Prince de Benevent pointed out to me as being those most studied by the youth of this country.’
“Judge of the dismay of the princess on hearing these words. Instant search was made among the volumes of which he spoke, some of the most rare and valuable editions in the whole collection. It was too true. The pious Don, in terror for the morals of his pupils, had taken the pains to tear out the beautiful engravings, which in many cases formed the chief value of the books. Every one the least objectionable was gone. The beautiful Ovid, the magnificent Strasburg Bible, and many others of equal value, were stripped, and may be seen to this day, as positive proofs of the ignorance crasse in which the royal family of Spain were at that time reared.
“The ignorance of Don Ferdinand would have been remarkable even in a convent of Spanish friars. He could read, indeed, but made it his boast that he never did so, having a ‘valet in his service who understood all the mysteries of science.’ This was verbatim his own expression. He was of quiet and taciturn habits, however, and loved to spend his time in cutting out with scissors divers little devices, with which he enclosed the bon-bons he loved to present to the ladies of the princess’s court. He was fond, too, of searching in books; but it was soon discovered that Don Antonio’s alarm was but too well founded; the royal youth loved books for the sake of the ‘pretty pictures’ they contained, and nothing more.
“The younger brother, Don Carlos, was far less gentle in his manner, and less favoured in person. His great passion was the chase, in which the commander loved to indulge him, as he himself partook of the same taste.
“But if,” said my friend, “you would like to know more of their deeds and doings, I will give you a sketch of all the circumstances which took place, from the time of their enlèvement at Bayonne, to their return to Madrid. It was given me by a gentleman of their suite. It may amuse you, and you may read it at your leisure.”
Just at the moment my friend uttered this promise, the breakfast-bell sounded a joyous peal across the park, and we hastened to obey its summons. C. being engaged during the morning, gave me the paper he had promised, to amuse my ennui, and, in the hope that its contents may afford to others the same delight they occasioned me, I shall give them to the reader.