said to the Marquis d’Hyène: “Noi siamo gli amorini, e la bestià è l’eccellenza vostra.”
In the memoirs of the Pallavicini family, it appears that a nobleman[[111]] of that name went to England on a mission from the Pope to receive money due to the Holy See, and that, after getting possession of it, he became a Protestant, and appropriated the money to his own use. His wife was with him, and after his death she married a son of Cromwell, and returned with her second husband to Genoa, where they inhabited the villa still belonging to the Pallavicini family, called La Peschiera. If this be true, it must have happened during the short reign of James II., for, otherwise, what hope could the Pontiff have of getting money from England? It seems odd, however, that he should have sent a secular, and a married one, too; but that might have been to avoid exciting suspicion. I remember that when I was at Genoa, many years ago, with my mother, we were told that a son of Cromwell had lived in a villa over the Zerbino, a little way out of the gate. This answers to the Pallavicini villa.
Genoa is sadly altered and degraded. Many of its finest buildings are falling to decay, and the grass grows luxuriantly in their court-yards. And yet trade flourishes more than ever. The principal nobility and merchants are still very rich, and the King of Sardinia does all in his power to render it a flourishing seaport and an agreeable residence. But it is more difficult to make the Genoese amuse themselves than it is to make them get money—the former implies spending it. There is great inequality of fortune—great riches and great poverty.
April 27.—This day was celebrated, outside the gates, the feast of a saint held in great veneration by the common people. On the eve there were illuminations and fireworks, and the church was crowded with people either from devotion or for the sake of amusement. They say that this saint was once upon a time servant to a baker, and used to take a great many loaves every morning for the poor. The baker missed his bread, and suspected his servant. He watched her, and saw her go out with her apron filled. On stopping her, he was much surprised, for he saw nothing but flowers. This is celebrated as a miracle.
When Lord Exmouth was at Genoa, he took everything he could take, even to the brass rings which received the chain of the port. How different was this from the conduct of Lord Nelson and Sir Thomas Troubridge when in the Mediterranean! They came to rescue nations, and not to plunder them.
It is said to be a custom here, that when a man is displeased with another, as a token of resentment and defiance, he lets his whiskers grow. Perhaps this may be the reason why the King expressed his dissatisfaction with a young nobleman who allowed his whiskers to grow, though he was not in the army. The young man cut them off, but is so displeased that he will not go to Court.
The Marchesa Durezzo says, that of the lower classes in Genoa the most courteous and good natured are the sailors, whom I have always heard spoken of as the best seamen of the Mediterranean. There is a harshness in the lower orders, and a stiffness in the higher classes of the Genoese, which one does not meet with in other Italians. But they have understanding and acuteness, and I believe that, in reality, they have the affectionate heart peculiar to their common country—but you must get at it.
[At the end of May, Miss Knight resumed her wanderings, halting, however, at Turin until the middle of July. She thence proceeded to Milan and across the Simplon to Geneva. Passing on by way of Neufchâtel, she again entered France, and arrived at Dijon on the 12th of August, under which date occurs the following entry: “The town was obliged to illuminate last night in honour of the new King, Louis Philippe, being proclaimed ‘Roi des Français.’ The people display no enthusiasm, and all is quiet in this district. Several officers have resigned their commissions. On the road I met some wounded Swiss and others of that corps, and also of the Royal Guards, both of which corps are now suppressed, and the men dismissed to their respective homes.” Three days later, Miss Knight arrived in Paris, and on the 9th of September at Dover. “On the road from Paris to Calais,” she remarks, “I perceived no signs of gaiety or enthusiasm. A person disposed to criticise the nation would, perhaps, divide it into three classes—knaves, dupes, and people intimidated by their recollection of the horrid scenes of the former revolution. Certain it is that the prosperity of France was great, and yearly increasing, and now all has become precarious, thanks to designing ambition and infamous journals. I am sick of the subject, and what I did not write while in the country from prudence, I now avoid writing from disgust.” In the following October, Miss Knight took apartments at Brighton, where she was presented to William IV. and Queen Adelaide, and invited to an evening party on the 21st, at which “tableaux were represented by an actor from the theatre. The King and Queen were very civil to everybody.” She was again invited on the 27th of December, when “the Pavilion was lighted up and as hot as possible. I cannot admire the dragons and other Oriental fancies, having been spoiled for such things by being early accustomed to the dignified simplicity of classic taste. Besides the two Princesses, the Duke of Sussex was there, and some of the new Ministers, Lord Grey, Sir James Graham, Lord Holland, and Lord Durham.” The last entry of the year runs in these words: “A whale was caught near this place two days ago. It is sixty-five feet in length. It was almost dead, and had a harpoon in its body.” On the 28th of December, Miss Knight takes a gloomy retrospective view of the events of the previous twelve months. “This miserable year,” she writes, “is almost at its close. On the 26th of June, died George IV., who was succeeded by William Duke of Clarence. On the 29th of July, Charles X. lost his throne—the Dauphin as well as himself renouncing all right to it. The Duke of Orleans was crowned by four marshals in a very small assembly of the representatives of the nation, and without any religious ceremony. No etiquette, no distinctions, allowed. Popular tumults in France and England. The King and Queen of England deterred from dining in the City owing to a communication from the Lord Mayor, advising them of intended riots and the cutting of the gas-pipes. The Duke of Wellington left in a minority, and obliged to resign: Lord Grey and his party forming the new administration. The revolt of Belgium; disturbances in many parts of Germany; the Duke of Brunswick expelled in favour of his brother; the Grand-Duke Constantine and the Russians driven out of Poland; fires in many counties in England to destroy the haystacks and corn-ricks!”
[1831.]
Mrs. Fitzherbert, when William IV. visited her after his brother’s death, showed him the papers which proved her marriage with the late King, first by a Roman Catholic priest, and immediately afterwards by a clergyman of the Church of England. The King desired her to put on widow’s weeds. Mrs. Fitzherbert also showed these papers to the Duke of Wellington, then Prime Minister. She is constantly invited to the Queen’s parties, and is treated with much respect.