Volume I Part 7 (1/2)
What other statesman in England had dared to ratify the Belgian revolution, and, by his simple acknowledgment, place the fact beyond appeal? It is with statesmen as with soldiers; the men who have been conversant with great events maintain the prestige of their ascendancy over all who ”never smelt powder;” and Metternich wields much of his great influence on such a tenure.
_Apropos_ of Metternich; the King told a trait of him which I have not heard before. In one of those many stormy interviews which took place between him and the Emperor, Napoleon, irritated at the tone of freedom a.s.sumed by the Austrian envoy, endeavoured by an artifice to recall him to what he deemed a recollection of their relative stations, and then, as it were, inadvertently let fall his hat for the Prince to take it up; instead of which Metternich moved back and bowed, leaving the Emperor to lift it from the ground himself.
Napoleon, it would seem, was ever on the watch to detect and punish the slightest infraction of that respect which ”doth hedge a king,” even in cases when the offender had nothing further from his mind than the intention to transgress: a rather absurd ill.u.s.tration was mentioned by the King. The Emperor was one day seeking for a book in the library at Malmaison, and at last discovered it on a shelf somewhat above his reach. Marshal Moocey, one of the tallest men in the army, who was present, immediately stepped forward, saying, ”Permettez, Sire. Je suis plus grand que votre Majeste!” ”Vous voulez dire plus long, Marechal,”
said the Emperor, with a frown that made the reproof actually a severity.
From the tone of his Majesty's observations on our n.o.bility, and the security such an order necessarily creates, I thought I could mark a degree of regret at the extinction of the cla.s.s in France. How natural such a feeling! For how, after all, can a monarchy long subsist with such a long interval between the crown and the people? The gradations of rank are the best guarantees against any a.s.sault on its privileges; a House of Lords is the best floating breakwater against the storms of a people in revolt.
With a marked condescension, his Majesty inquired after my health and the object of my journey; and when I mentioned Naples, hastily remarked, ”Ah, well! I can promise you a very agreeable house to pa.s.s your evenings in: we are going to send Favancourt there as envoy, and Madame la Comtesse is your countrywoman. This, however, is a secret which even Favancourt himself is ignorant of.”
I am not casuist enough to say if this intimation of the King is binding on me as to secrecy; but, possibly, I need not risk the point, as I shall not be likely to see Favancourt or Madame de Favancourt before I start to-morrow.
I am already impatient for the hour to go; I want to be away--afar--from the gorgeous glitter of this splendid capital. Something nigh to misanthropy creeps over me at the sight of pleasures in which I am no more to take a part, and I would not that a feeling thus ungenerous should be my travelling companion. I do not experience the inordinate love of life which, we are told, ever accompanies my malady. If I have a wish to live, it is to frame a different kind of existence from what I have hitherto followed, and I believe most sick people's love of life is the desire of dwelling longer amid the pursuits they have followed. And now for the map, to see how I may trace a route, and see--shame that I must say so!--fewest of my countrymen. Well, then, from Strasbourg to Fribourg, and through the Hohlen-Thal.
So far, so good! This is all new to me. Thence to Munich, or direct to Inspruck, as I may decide later on. This, at least, avoids Switzerland, and all its radicalism and roguery, not to speak of the ”Perkinses,” who are ”out” by this time, touring it to Lausanne and Chamouni.
What a tremendous noise a carriage makes coming through these _portes-cocheres!_ Truly, the luxury is heavily paid for by all the inhabitants of a house. Is that a tap at my door?
A few lines before I lie down to sleep! It is already daybreak. What would poor Dr. S---- say if he knew I had been sitting up to this hour, and at a _pet.i.t souper_ too, with some half-dozen of the wealthiest people in Paris, not to speak of the prettiest? Madame de F------ would take no refusal, however, and averred she had made the party expressly for me; that V------ H------ had declined another engagement to come; and, in fact--no matter what little flatteries--I went; and here I am, with my cheek flushed and my head on fire, my brain whirling with mad excitement, laughter still ringing in my ears, and all the exaltation he feels who, drinking water while others sip champagne, is yet the only one whose faculties are intoxicated.
What a brilliant scene in a comedy would that little supper have been, just as it really was; scenery, decorations, people all unchanged! the dimly lighted boudoir, where all the luxury of modern requirement was seen through a chiaroscuro, that made it seem half unreal; and then, the splendid brilliancy of the supper-room beyond, where, amid the gorgeous dis-play of _vaisselle_ and flowers, shone still more brightly the blaze of beauty and the fire of genius.
How often have I remarked in these little ”jousts of the table,” where each man puts forth his sharpest weapons of wit and pleasantry, that the conqueror, like an Ivanhoe, is an unknown knight, and with a blank s.h.i.+eld.
So was it, I remember once, where we had a sprinkling of every cla.s.s of celebrity, from the Chamber of Deputies to the Theatre Francais; and yet the heart of all was taken by a young Spaniard, whom n.o.body seemed to know whence or how he came,--a handsome, dark-eyed fellow, with a short upper lip that seemed alive with energy, combining in his nature the stern dignity of the Castilian and the hot blood of Andalusia. It was the Marquis de Brabancon brought him, presenting him to the lady of the house in a half whisper.
There are men it would be utter ruin to place in positions of staid and tranquil respectability, and yet who make great names. They are born to be adventurers. I remained the last, on purpose to hear who he was, feeling no common curiosity, even though--as so often happens--the name, when heard, conveys nothing to the ear, and leaves as little for the memory.
I could not avoid remarking that he bore, in the mild and thoughtful character of his brow, a strong resemblance to the portraits of Claverhouse.
”Alike in more than looks,” said the hostess: ”they have many traits in common, and shew that the proud Dundee was no exceptional instance of humanity, uniting the softness of a girl with a courage even verging upon ferocity.”
The stranger was the Spanish General Cabrebra!
”And now that you have seen him, let me tell you a short anecdote of him, only worth remembering as so admirably in colouring with his appearance on entering.
”Last year, at the head of a division of the army, the Bishop of Grenada, accompanied by all his clergy, received him in a grand procession, and safely escorted him to the episcopal palace, where a splendid collation was prepared. The soldierlike air and manly beauty of the young General were even less the theme of admiration than his respectful reception of the Bishop, to whom he knelt in devout reverence, and kissed the hand with deep humility, walking at his side with an air of almost bashful deference.
”At table, too, his manner was even more marked by respect. As the meal proceeded, the Bishop could not fail remarking that his guest seemed deeply possessed by some secret care, which made him frequently sigh, in a manner betokening heavy affliction. After some pressing, it came out; the source of the grief was, the inability of the General to pay his troops, for the military chest was quite empty, and daily desertions were occurring. The sum required was a large one, 20,000 contos, and the venerable Bishop hastened to a.s.sure him, with unfeigned sorrow, that the poor and suffering city could not command one-fourth of the amount.
Cabrebra rose, and paced the room in great excitement, ever throwing, as he pa.s.sed, a glance into the court-yard, where a party of grenadiers stood under arms, and then, resuming his place at the table, he seemed endeavouring, but vainly, to join in the festivity around him.
”'It is evident to me, my son,' said the Bishop, 'that some heavier sorrow is lying at your heart; tell it, and let me, if it may be, give you comfort and support.' Cabrebra hesitated; and at last avowed that such was the case. Considerable entreaty, however, was necessary to wring the mystery from him: when at last he said, in a voice broken and agitated, 'You know me, Holy Father, for a good and faithful son of the Church--for one who reveres its ordinances, and those who dispense them Think, then, of my deep misery when---- but I cannot--I am utterly unable to proceed.' After much pressing he resumed, with sudden energy--'Yes--I know I shall never feel peace and happiness more, for although I have done many a hard and cruel deed, I never, till now, had the dreadful duty to order a Bishop to be shot! This is what is breaking my heart--this is my secret misery.'
”It is scarcely necessary to say, that he was speedily recovered from so dreadful an embarra.s.sment, for the Bishop was too good a Christian to see a devout soldier reduced to such extremity. The money was paid, and the Bishop ransomed.”
Our celebrity of to-night was of less mark--indeed, nominally, of none--but he has but to escape ”rope and gun.” and he will make a name for himself.
He is a young Frenchman, one who, beginning at the lowest rung of the ladder, may still climb high. Strange paths are open to eminence nowadays, and there is no reason why a man may not begin life as a ”Vaudevilliste,” and end it ”Pair de France.”
Jules de Russigny--whence the ”de” came from we must not inquire--like most of the smart men of the day, is a Provencal; he was educated at a _Seminaire_, and destined for the priesthood. Some slight irregularity caused his dismissal, and he came to Paris on foot to seek his fortune.
When toiling up a steep ascent of the road at St Maurice, he saw before him on the way a heavily laden travelling carriage, which, with the aid of his struggling post-horses, was also labouring up the hill; an elderly gentleman had descended to walk, and was plodding wearily after his lumbering equipage. As Jules reached the crest of the ridge, all were gone, and nothing but a deep column of dust announced the course of the departed carriage: at his feet, however, he discovered a paper, which, closely written, and, by its numerous corrections, appeared as closely studied, must have fallen from the pocket of the traveller.