But it was impossible to get anything out of the Governor, who was my sworn enemy.
The day after the appearance of my article he had severely reprimanded the journalist I had employed.
He often gave balls, concerts and entertainments of all kinds, to which all the English ladies, from those of high rank down to the wives of the smallest tradespeople, were invited; I alone was deprived of this immense honour.
One day he went so far as to express to my banker the greatest desire for my speedy departure. “I am ordered,” he said, “to keep the strictest watch over her.”
My banker replying that he could not understand the reason of it, since all I was doing was in order to discover a Comte and Comtesse Joinville—
“Yes,” said this officious governor; “but it isn’t very easy to prove that this Count and Countess are no other than the former Duke and Duchess of Chartres?”
But that was not all.
Fifteen days after the appearance of my article in the Gazetta di Genova, my ex-brother, the advocate Chiappini, sent me by post a so-called answer he had had put into the public papers, boasting of having obtained the permission of the Government. Adorned with all the flowers of speech an infamous pen could indite, such a libel was well worthy of its author.
Although my reputation stood immeasurably high above his insults, at first I wanted to answer them.
The first printer I spoke to refused his services, under the pretext that he had received orders in the matter; I had successive recourse to several others, who all likewise put me off. Not only at Genoa, but at Florence, Bologna and Alessandria—everywhere they had been threatened with severe penalties in case of disobedience.