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.]