The harlequin at the Comédie Italienne at Paris called for a seat, and they brought him a chair. “Non, non,” said he, “ce siége n’est pas assez long. Je voudrais m’appuyer. Donnez-moi un autre siége: donnez-moi un siége comme celui de Port-Mahon.”
A Neapolitan Prince, being on his death-bed, sent for his confessor, and, after making a long confession, he said there was one thing he had omitted because he had not courage to tell it. After much difficulty and many exhortations, the friar prevailed upon him to impart the secret. “Father,” said he, “I can never hope to be saved, for I have fought a duel.” The confessor reproved him in suitable terms, but added, that his repentance would ensure his pardon. “Oh, father!” exclaimed the Prince, “there were aggravating circumstances. The dispute was occasioned by my saying that Tasso was superior to Ariosto, and we fought three times on that account.” “It was very improper, to be sure,” replied the friar, “to have risked your own life and that of a fellow-creature for so slight a reason, but you may hope to be forgiven.” “It is impossible, father,” persisted the Prince, “for though I disputed so vehemently, I have never read a line of either Tasso or Ariosto.”
When the Archduke Maximilian was at Paris, he went to see the Cabinet du Roi. M. de Buffon was there to receive him, and presented his Imperial Highness with a copy of his works, elegantly bound; but the Archduke said, he could not think of robbing him. He went likewise to the Ecole Militaire, where the young gentlemen were going to be put through their exercises for his amusement, but he said he did not wish to fatigue them. The Parisians called him the “Archi-bête d’Autriche.”
When Pope Lambertini went to see the Opera House fitted up for the cantata which the Duke de Nivernois gave on the birth of the present King of France (Louis XVI.), the prelate who was in attendance wanted to take off the “stola,” thinking! that it was not decent so sacred a habit should appear in a theatre, but the Pope prevented him, calling him a “minchione” (a blockhead). Somebody wrote over the door, “Indulgenza pleniaria.”
When the Bishop of Derry was at Rome, he refused to help a French gentleman at Cardinal de Bernis’ table to some olives, saying he “would not give the olive to France.” The Marquis de Fortia replied, “And yet it is the duty of your profession to do so, milord.”