The Duc de Lauragais, who was a very singular and eccentric person, was a great anglomane, and was the first introducer into France of horse-races à l’Anglais. It was to him that Louis XV.—not pleased at his insolent anglomanie—made an excellent retort. The King had asked him, after one of his journeys, what he had learned in England. Lauragais answered, with a kind of republican dignity, “A panser” (penser). “Les chevaux?” inquired the King.
At another time, when Cardinal de Luynes was paying his respects to Louis XV., his Majesty said: “Cardinal, your great-grandfather died of an apoplexy, your father and your uncle died of an apoplexy, and you look as if you would die of an apoplectic stroke.” “Sire,” answered the Cardinal, “fortunately for us we do not live in the times when kings are prophets.”
His predecessor, Louis XIV., it is said, often gave flatterers good pretexts, of which they were not slow to avail themselves. A Capuchin, for instance, preaching before this monarch at Fontainebleau, began his discourse with, “My brethren, we shall all die.” Then stopping short, and turning to his Majesty, he exclaimed, “Yes, sir, almost all of us shall die.”
A sorry joke was that which the ex-king Charles X. of France made to M. de Montbel as he rode with him. On leaving Prague, where the new Emperor of Austria, Ferdinand, was about to be crowned as King of Bohemia—Charles thinking the spectacle of a deposed monarch a melancholy sight for an emperor and king—“Montbel,” he said, “do you know that you accumulate in your person the offices of First Gentleman of the Chamber, Captain of the Guards, and Chief Ecuyer? I was never before struck with the inordinate character of your ambition!”
And, as it has been observed, there was something pathetic and yet humorous in the remark of Louis Philippe. It appears that by the 24th of August, 1850, his condition had become so serious that the physician felt it his duty to communicate his fears to the Queen, who expressed a wish that Louis Philippe himself might be made aware of the peril in which he lay. Accordingly, as soon as the dread announcement had been delicately conveyed to the King, his Majesty exclaimed cheerfully, “Oh, ah! I understand. You come to tell me that it is time to prepare for leaving. Was it not the Queen who requested you to make this communication?”
The doctor answered in the affirmative; whereupon his Majesty added, “Very well, beg of her to come in.”[116]
An amusing story tells how Charles V. one day fell in with a peasant who was carrying a pig, the noise of which irritated him. On inquiring of the peasant if he had not learnt the method of making a pig be quiet, he was answered in the negative. “Take the pig by the tail,” said the Emperor, “and you will see that it will soon be silent.” The peasant did as he was told, and said to the Emperor, “You must have learnt the trade much better than I, sir, for you understand it a great deal better.”
Two ladies once contended for precedence in the Court of Charles V. Unable to agree, they appealed to the monarch, who decided the matter by the command, “Let the elder go first”; which recalls a similar anecdote told of the Prussian sovereign, who, being told by one of his courtiers that two ladies of high rank had disputed about precedence, replied, “Give the precedence to the greatest fool.” Such a dispute, it is affirmed, was never known afterwards. And speaking of precedence, we are reminded how, when King William landed, he said to Sir Edward Seymour, the Speaker, “Sir Edward, I think you are of the Duke of Somerset’s family?” “No, sir, he is of mine,” was the Speaker’s reply.
The licensed humorist of the Court of Augustus the Strong was General Kyan, the adjutant of the King, concerning whom many amusing anecdotes are told. One day at table his Majesty asked him to pour out some rare Hungarian sweet wine. Kyan placed the King’s glass in the centre, and those of the other great State and financial officials all round. The outer glasses were filled to the brim, but in the King’s were only a few drops. “What does all this represent?” asked the King. “The collection of the State revenues,” said Kyan.
On another occasion, when Kyan wanted a snug berth for his old age, at table he asked permission to change position with the King for a few minutes. This his Majesty granted, on which Kyan sat up in his chair with the King’s hat on his head, and began a speech to the King, whom he harangued as General Kyan, eulogising his merits, and granting him a post of governor of the fortress of Konigstein. The King was so taken with the fancy that the patent was made out, and he died in his post at eighty years of age.