Not caring to argue whether the means employed on the occasion referred to, such as refusal of the absolution and the sacraments, did not exceed the limits usually supposed to constitute advice, I asked whether M. de Cavour had, on his sole authority, instituted this inquiry.
“Oh, of course there was the farce of a commission appointed by the chamber, or rather by that majority which is his tool, a majority of lawyers!—that despicable class which of late years has invaded every department of the State, and by their plausibility and intrigues are bidding fair to sweep away all that our forefathers held honourable or sacred. And then, as if lawyers of our own were not curse enough, we have shoals of them among the political refugees, admitted to the parliament, yes, even to the ministry!”
“Ah, true,” sighed the comtesse, “we are in a sad position; still we must not lose hope. Whenever I am unusually depressed I go and see the Duchess de ——; she is one in a thousand for constancy and courage. Do you remember, general, her spirited conduct eight years ago, at the time the Government had confined Monseigneur Franzoni, the archbishop, in the citadel?”
For the information of those who may have forgotten an occurrence which at the moment attracted all Europe's attention, it is necessary briefly to mention that the archbishop's offence consisted in peremptorily refusing the last consolations of religion to the Cavaliere di Santa Rosa on his death-bed, unless he solemnly retracted the share he had borne, as one of the ministry, in the promulgation of some ecclesiastical reforms. Not choosing to do violence to his conscience, the dying man, though devoutly attached to the observances of his church, expired, amidst the tears of his wife and friends, without receiving the viaticum or extreme unction. It was as a satisfaction to the popular indignation at this act of clerical intolerance, as well as to vindicate the authority of the Government, that the archbishop, after undergoing a few weeks' imprisonment, was banished from the country.
“What particular instance of the duchesse's spirit do you allude to, comtesse?” asked the general. “I was in Savoy at the time, and only heard the barren facts of the outrage committed on the venerable prelate.”
“Her husband was then in the cabinet, and of course implicated in this offence; but to show that she at least had no participation in it, she ordered out the old family coach with four horses, her footmen in their state liveries, and drove to the citadel, taking the most frequented streets on her way, to offer her sympathy and condolence to monseigneur. There she is, madame, nearly opposite to us.”
I had scarcely taken a survey of this modern Griselda,[23] when a stir was perceptible, a title was announced, and everybody rose. The owner of a name which will be written in history as having held a post in the reign of Victor Emmanuel's predecessor, similar to that occupied in France by a Belle Gabrielle, or a La Vallière, entered the saloon; a tall and commanding figure, with more than the remains of great beauty in her face. Until she took a seat, none resumed theirs.
Queenlike she sat, and with queenlike affability greeted those who advanced to speak to her, or addressed those on either hand, and talked about charitable societies of which she was the patroness with the bishop, and the last political intelligence with the ex-ambassador; complimented the lady of the house on the beauty of her children, and congratulated the comtesse on an approaching marriage in her family, graciously announcing her intention to call and see the bride's corbeille.
It was not the fact of her being there which surprised me, but the deference, the obsequiousness shown towards her. Truly, as a specimen of the moral code of the strictest circles, the most severely religious of the high society of Turin, it was sufficiently diverting. But no one present had a glimmering of this inconsistency.
“Believe me,” said the comtesse, as we parted soon after, having made an appointment for the morrow to introduce me to her niece, the bride elect, “believe me, Madame de —— is full of rare qualities. You could not wish for a better friend or adviser. Her own daughter is one of the three model wives of Turin, and reflects the highest credit on her training, which was simple, nay almost austere; at the same time nothing could surpass her maternal tenderness. I remember a sacrifice she made upon herself for three years, in hopes of obtaining the blessing of a grandchild. Passionately fond of ices, she resolutely abstained from tasting a single one till her prayers were heard!”