CHAPTER II
FREAKS OF ROYALTY
It is impossible to account, in many cases, for the strange and extraordinary freaks of bygone sovereigns on any other ground than eccentricity or madness. It is true that Charles the Fat used to excuse himself for the atrocities into which he plunged, by asserting that he was possessed of a devil, but this, of course, was in banter rather than sincerity. But, whatever the motives which prompted such peculiar vagaries on the part of certain monarchs, foibles of this kind, if not instructive, are certainly amusing.
Thus it is related of Marie Casimire, wife of Sobieski, King of Poland, that one of her amusements was to let herself be drenched by the rain, although at the time she might be magnificently dressed. On one occasion, when Monsieur le Comte de Teil, Conseiller du Parlement de Paris, who had been sent to Poland by the King of England, happened to be near the Queen when it rained very heavily, she said to him, “Monsieur l’Envoi, let us take a walk”—a request which he did not dare to refuse. He wore on that day a fine wig; nevertheless he endured the rain for some time, and then said to her, “Madam, your Majesty is getting wet.” “Say, rather,” answered the Queen, “that you are learning how to spoil your fine wig,” and she continued walking in the rain maliciously a full half-hour.
This, however, was a comparatively trivial and harmless amusement compared with the cruel and outrageous freaks of the Russian Emperor, Ivan IV., who has been described as “one of the most savage, yet one of the most enlightened monarchs that ever reigned.” He was only in his teens when he had one of his attendants worried to death by dogs on the public highway; and in one of the so-called frolicsome moods he would let slip wild bears among the affrighted citizens in the streets, and would calmly say his prayers whilst gazing at the slaughter, making compensation “for any irregularity in the matter by flinging a few coins to the wounded after he rose from his knees.” It is even said that Ivan went so far in his insane freaks as to compel parents to slay their children, and children one another; and where there was a survivor, “the amiable monarch, if he was not too weary, would slay him himself, and would laugh at this conclusion to so excellent a joke.” It is not surprising that partial madness eventually overtook him, for what can be said of a ruler who is reported to have sent to the city of Moscow “to provide for him a measure full of fleas for a medicine.” They answered it was impossible; and if they could get them, yet they could not measure them, because of their leaping out. Upon which he set a mulct upon the city of 7000 roubles.
But Ivan IV. was not the only Russian monarch who indulged in freaks of an irrational nature, although his successors did not stoop to the same cruelty. In the case of Peter III. intemperance has been assigned as the probable cause of some of the absurd actions with which his name has been associated in contemporary memoirs. Rulhière, for instance, who was an eye-witness of the Revolution of the year 1762, tells us that his military mania knew no bounds; he wished that a perpetual noise of cannon should give him in representation a foretaste of war. Accordingly, he one day gave orders that one hundred large pieces of cannon should be fired simultaneously, so that he might have some idea of the noise of battle. And it was necessary, in order to prevent the execution of this whim, to represent to him that such an act would shake the city to the centre. Oftentimes he would rise from table to prostrate himself on his knees, with a glass in his hand, before a portrait of Frederick of Prussia, exclaiming, “My brother, we will conquer the universe together.”
In some instances the conduct of the Russian Emperor Paul was most eccentric, and his vagaries were so extraordinary that they have been explained on the theory of madness. One of the most curious stories about him is related by Kotzebue. He was summoned into the presence of the Emperor, who said to him in German, “You know the world too well not to be adequately informed about political occurrences, and must, therefore, have learned how I have figured in it. I have often made rather a foolish exhibition of myself, and,” continued he, laughing, “it’s right that I should be punished, and I have imposed on myself a chastisement. I want this”—he held a paper in his hand—“to be inserted in the Hamburg Gazette and other newspapers.” He then took him confidentially by the arm, and read to him the following paper which he had written in French:—
“On apprend de Petersbourg que l’Empereur de Russie voyant que les puissances de l’Europe ne pouvoit s’accorder entre elle et voulant mettre fin à une guerre qui la desoloit depuis onse ans vouloit proposer un lieu ou il inviteroit touts les autres souverains de se rendre et y combattre en champ clos ayant avec eux pour ecuyer juge de camp, et héros d’armes leurs ministres les plus éclairés et les generaux les plus habiles tels que Messrs. Thugust, Pitt, Bernstoff, lui même se proposant de prendre avec lui les generaux C. de Palen et Kutusof, on ne sçait si on doit y ajouter foi, toute fois la chose ne paroit pas destituée de fondement en portant l’empreinte de ce dont il a souvent été taxé.”[3]
We may compare this eccentricity with that of Charles I. of England, who would bind himself to a particular line of conduct by a secret obligation. One day he drew aside Dr. Sheldon, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, and placed in his hands a paper which detailed certain measures he proposed to adopt for the glory of God and for the advancement of the Church, intimating that he “had privately bound himself by the most awful vow to ensure their accomplishment.” And one particular obligation which the document contained was to perform public penance for the injustice he had been guilty of to Lord Strafford, in consenting to his death. In delivering this paper to Dr. Sheldon, Charles solemnly conjured him to remind him of his contract, should he hereafter ever find him in a condition to perform any one of the articles which it contained.
In his moments of irritation Peter the Great, like William III. of England, would not hesitate to strike the person who had given him offence, whatever might be his rank; and, as his Majesty was easily upset, he was at times very lavish of his blows. His subjects, it is said, did not consider a blow from the Emperor an affront, and thought themselves honoured by an apology. But this was not the case with foreigners, for Le Blond, a French architect whom the Czar had invited into his dominions, having received the stroke of a cane in the first transport of imperial anger, took it so much to heart that he sickened of a fever and died.