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BIOGRAPHICAL   AND    CRITICAL 

ESSAYS. 


VOL.   I. 


LONDON  :     X-RIXTEJD    BY 

frOTTISWOODE    AND    CO.,     NKW-STttEET    SQUARE 

AND     PARLIAJ.reXT    STREET 


BIOGEAPHICAL     AND     CEITICAL 


ESSAYS. 


REPRINTED     FROM     REVIEWS, 


^\^TH     ADDITIONS     AND     CORRECTIONS. 


A     NEW     SERIES. 


BY    A.     HAY  WARD,    ESQ.,     Q.C. 


IX    TWO    VOLUMES. 


VOL.    I. 


LONDON : 

LONGMAXS,     GREEN,     AND     CO. 

1873. 


jill    ri(!hls    reserved. 


\j,  3 


CONTENTS 


THE      FIEST      VOLUME. 


PAfiE 

The  Pearls  and  Mock  Pearls  of  History        .  .         i 

Feederic  ton  Gentz       .  .  ,  .  .71 

Maria  Edgeworth  :  Her  Life  and  Writings    .  .130 

The  Right  Hon.  George  Canning  as  a  Man  of  Letters     187 
Marshal  Saxe    ......     ^^ 


Sylvain  Van  de  Weyek 
Alexander  Dumas 
Salons     . 
Whist  and  Whist-Players 


.  281 

.  293 

.  350 

.  384 


5iC>?^ii>i^-a 


1 


;  .'V 


ESSAYS. 


THE   PEARLS    AND    MOCK   PEARLS   OF   HLSTORY. 

(Feom  the  Quarterly  Review,  Apeil,  1861.) 

L  U Esprit  cles  Autres,  recueilli  et  raconte  par  Edouard 
Fom-nier.     Troisieme  edition.     Paris,  1857. 

2.  L^ Esprit  dans  UHistoire.  Recherches  et  Curiosites  sur 
les  Mots  historiques.  Par  Edouard  Fournier.  Deuxi^me 
edition,  revue  et  considerablement  augmentee.  Paris, 
1860. 

Many  years  before  *  aerated  bread '  was  heard  of,  a  com- 
pany was  formed  at  Pimlico  for  utilising  the  moisture 
which  evaporates  in  the  process  of  baking,  by  distilhng 
spirit  from  it  instead  of  letting  it  go  to  waste.  Adroitly 
availing  himself  of  the  popular  suspicion  that  the  com- 
pany's loaves  must  be  unduly  deprived  of  alcohol,  a 
ready-witted  baker  put  up  a  placard  inscribed  '  Bread 
with  the  Gin  in  it,'  and  customers  rushed  to  him  in  crowd§. 
We  strongly  suspect  that  any  over-scrupulous  writer 
who  should  present  history  without  its  pleasant  illusions, 
would  find  himself  in  the  condition  of  the  projectors 
who  foolishly  expected  an  enlightened  public  to  dis- 
pense (as  they  thought)  with  an  intoxicating  ingredient 
in  their  bread. 

*  Pol,  me  occidistis,  amici ! 
Non  servastis,  ait,  cui  sic  extorta  voluptas, 
Et  demptus  per  vim  mentis  gratissimus  error.' ^ 

1  Horace.     Epistles,  Lib.  2,  Ep.  2,  thus  translated  by  Frauds : — 
'  My  friends,  'twere  better  you  had  stopped  my  breath ; 
Your  love  was  rancour,  and  your  cure  was  death ; 
To  rob  me  thus  of  pleasure  so  refined. 
The  dear  delusion  of  a  raptur'd  mind.' 
VOL.  I.  B 

/■z 


2  THE    PEARLS   AND    MOCK   PEARLS   OF    HISTORY. 

'  A  mixture  of  a  lie  dotli  ever  add  pleasure.  Doth 
any  man  doubt  that  if  there  were  taken  from  men's 
minds  vain  opinions,  flattering  hopes,  imaginations  as 
one  woidd,  and  the  like,  but  it  would  leave  the  minds 
of  a  number  of  men  poor  shrunken  things,  full  of 
melancholy  and  indisposition,  and  unpleasing  to  them- 
selves ? '  So  says  Lord  Bacon ;  and  few  aphorisms  in 
prose  or  verse  are  more  popular  than  Gray's  '  Where 
ignorance  is  bliss,  'tis  folly  to  be  wise.'  The  poet  may 
have  been  true  to  his  vocation  when  he  rhymed,  rather 
than  reasoned,  in  this  fashion ;  but  the  philosopher 
woidd  have  been  lamentably  untrue  to  his,  had  he 
seriously  propounded  a  doctrine  which  any  looseness 
of  interpretation  could  convert  or  pervert  into  an  argu- 
ment against  truth,  knowledge,  or  intelligence.  Fortu- 
nately, the  context  shows  that  he  was  speaking  of  what 
is,  not  what  ought  to  be ;  and  was  no  more  prepared  to 
contend  that  credulity  and  f^xlsehood  are  legitimate  or 
lasting  sources  of  mental  gratification,  than  that  the 
largest  amount  of  })hysical  enjoyment  may  be  ensured 
by  drunkenness.  After  speculating  a  little  on  the  pre- 
valent fondness  for  delusion,  he  concludes :  '  Yet 
howsoever  these  things  are  in  men's  depraved  judgments 
and  affections,  yet  Truth,  which  only  doth  judge  itself, 
teacheth  that  the  inquiry  of  truth,  which  is  the  love- 
making  or  wooing  of  it,  and  the  belief  of  truth,  which 
is  the  enjoying  of  it,  is  the  sovereign  good  of  human 
nature.' 

This  last  emphatic  sentence  should  be  kept  constantly 
in  mind  during  the  perusal  of  the  books  named  at  the 
head  of  this  article.  The  object  of  the  first,  'L'Esprit 
des  Autres,'  is  the  unsparing  exposure  of  literary  plagia- 
rism in  France.  In  the  second,  'L'Esprit  dans  I'llis- 
toire,'  the  learned  and  ingenious  author  gallantly 
undertakes  to  investigate  tlie  title  of  the  leading  cha- 
racters in  French  history  to  the  wisest  and  wittiest 
sayings,  and  some  of  the  noblest  doings,  recorded   of 


THE    PEARLS    AXD    MOCK    TEARLS    OF    HISTORY,  3 

them.  Kings,  generals,  and  statesmen  are  all  thrown 
into  the  crucible,  and  in  many  instances  we  are  unable 
to  say  of  them  (what  Dryden  said  of  Shakespeare)  that, 
burn  him  down  as  you  would,  there  would  always  be 
precious  metal  at  the  bottom  of  the  melting-pot.  Not 
a  few  subside  into  a  mere  caput  moriuum,  or  emerge 
'poor  shrunken  things,'  with  no  future  hold  on 
posterity  beyond  what  long-indulged  error  may  main- 
tain for  them.  On  the  other  hand,  the  value  of  the 
genuine  gem  is  ineffably,  enhanced  by  the  detection  of 
the  counterfeit ;  and  there  is  more  room  to  walk  about 
and  admire  the  real  heroes  and  heroines  in  the  Pan- 
theon or  Walhalla  when  the  pretenders  are  turned  out. 

At  the  same  time,  we  cannot  help  wondering  at  the 
favour  with  which  M.  Fournier's  disclosures  have  been 
received  by  his  countrymen ;  and  w^e  might  be  disposed 
to  admire  rather  than  emulate  his  courasre,  if  analogous 
results  were  likely  to  ensue  from  an  equally  rigid  ex- 
amination of  the  recorded  or  traditional  claims  of 
Englishmen.  But,  in  the  first  place,  there  is  good 
reason  to  believe  that  he  carries  scepticism  to  an  undue 
extent,  and  insists  on  an  amount  of  proof  which,  by  the 
nature  of  things,  is  commonly  unattainable.  In  the 
second  place,  our  English  habit  of  fully  and  freely  can^ 
vassing  assumed  or  asserted  merit  at  its  rise,  and  of 
immolating  instead  of  pampering  our  national  vanity,  if 
(as  in  the  case  of  the  Crimean  War)  occasionally  detri- 
mental to  our  credit  and  influence  abroad,  carries  at 
least  one  compensation  with  it : — We  have  little  cause 
to  tremble  lest  our  long-estabhshed  idols  should  be 
thrown  down. 

We  propose,  therefore,  besides  profiting  by  M.  Four- 
nier's discoveries,  to  extend  our  researches  to  general 
history  and  biography,  ancient  and  modern.  Most 
especially  let  us  see  whether  the  Plantagenets,  Tudors, 
and  Stuarts  owe  as  much  to  borrowed  plumes  as  the 
Capets  and  Bourbons  :  whether  the  stirring  and  pithy 


4  THE    TEAKLi?    AXD    MOCK   PEARLS    OF    niSTORY. 

sentences  of  Wolfe  and  Nelson  are  as  much  a  mj^th  as 
those  of  Desaix  and  Cambronne  :  whether  our  Enghsh 
worthies,  civil  and  military,  have  been  portrayed  with 
the  same  exclusive  reference  to  artistic  efl'ect,  and  the 
same  noble  independence  of  strict  accuracy,  as  the 
French. 

Before  setting  to  work  in  right  earnest  on  his  more 
limited  task,  M.  Fournier  throws  out  a  strong  intima- 
tion, that  he  could  shatter  the  foimdations  of  many 
a  fair  structure  of  Greek  and  Eoman  heroism  if  he 
thought  fit.  Nor  would  it  be  altogether  safe  for  the  wor- 
shippers of  classical  antiquity  to  defy  him  to  the  proof. 

*  The  intelligible  forms  of  ancient  poets, 
The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion, 
The  power,  the  beauty,  and  the  majesty 
That  had  their  haunts  in  dale  or  piny  mountain, 
Or  forest,  by  slow  stream  or  pebbly  spring, 
Or  chasms  and  watery  depths, — all  these  have  vanished  ; 
They  live  no  longer  in  the  faith  of  reason.'  ^ 

Most  of  the  associated  traditions  have  necessarily 
vanished  with  them,  or  cut  a  sorry  figure  without  their 
mythological  costume.  What  are  Komulus  and  Eemus 
without  their  descent  from  Mars  and  their  wet-nurse  of 
a  wolf?  or  what  is  Numa  without  Egeria?  If  one  part 
of  a  story  is  palpably  and  confessedly  fiction,  can  the 
rest  be  admitted  without  hesitation  to  be  fact  ?  Until 
nearly  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  ear- 
lier portions  of  Greek  and  Koman  history  were  as  im- 
plicitly believed  as  the  later,  and,  from  their  exciting 
character,  naturally  sank  deeper  into  the  po]:)ular  mind. 
In  ignorance  or  forgetfulness  of  occasional  hints  thrown 
out  by  riper  scholars,  writers  like  Echard,  Vertot,  Eollin, 
Hooke,and  Goldsmith,  persevered  in  copying  and  ampli- 
fying the  narratives  of  Herodotus,  Livy,  and  Plutarch, 
as  confidently  as  those  of  Thucydides,Ca3sar,  and  Tacitus. 

'  Coleridge's  translation  of  Walknstein.     These  seven  lines  arc  a  beauti- 
ful amplification  of  two  : 

Die  alten  Fabelwosen  sind  nicht  mehr  ; 
Pas  r(,'iz<'ndo  (iufc^chlecht  ist  Rusijewandert. 


THE  PEARLS  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY.     5 

The  spell  was  not  efrectually  broken  till  Niebuhr  (im- 
proving on  MM.  De  Pouilly  and  Do  Beaufort)  under- 
took to  show,  principally  from  internal  evidence,  that 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  received  history  of  Eome  for 
the  first  four  or  live  hundred  years  was  apocryphal. 
An  able  review  of  the  ensuing  controversy  will  be 
found  in  the  introduction  to  '  An  Inquiry  into  the  Cre- 
dibility of  the  Early  Roman  History,'  by  Sir  G.  C. 
Lewis,  who  objects  to  Niebuhr's  method,  and  insists 
tliat  external  proof  or  testimony  is  the  only  trustworthy 
source  or  test. 

'Historical  evidence,'  lie  says,  'like  judicial  evidence,  is 
founded  on  the  testimony  of  credible  witnesses.  Unless 
these  witnesses  had  personal  and  immediate  perception  of 
the  facts  which  they  report,  unless  they  saw  and  heard  what 
they  undertake  to  rekite  as  having  happened,  their  evidence 
is  not  entitled  to  credit.  As  all  original  witnesses  must  be 
contemporary  with  the  events  which  they  attest,  it  is  a 
necessary  condition  for  the  credibility  of  a  witness  that  he 
be  a  contemporary,  though  a  contemporary  is  not  necessarily 
a  credible  witness.  Unless,  therefore,  a  historical  account 
can  be  traced,  by  probable  proof,  to  the  testimony  of  con- 
temporaries, the  first  condition  of  historical  credibility  fails.' 

No  historical  account  of  Rome  or  the  Romans  for 
more  than  400  years  after  the  foundation  of  the  city 
fulfils  this  condition ;  and  the  first  book  of  Livy,  con- 
taining the  regal  period,  can  lay  claim  (when  thus 
tested)  to  no  higher  authority  than  Lord  Macaulay's 
'  Lays.'  Livy  states  that  whatever  records  existed 
prior  to  the  burning  of  Rome  by  the  Gauls  (365  j^ears 
after  its  foundation)  were  tlien  burnt  or  lost.  We  are 
left,  therefore,  in  tlie  most  embarrassing  uncertainty 
whether  Tarquin  outraged  Lucretia ;  or  Brutus  sham- 
med idiotcy  and  condemned  his  sons  to  death  ;  or 
Mutius  ScLEVola  thrust  his  band  into  the  fire  ;  or  Cur- 
tius  jumped  into  the  gulf  (if  there  was  one) ;  or  Cloelia 
swam  the  Tiber ;  or  Codes  defended  a  bridge  against 


b  THE    PEARLS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    IILSTORY. 

an  army ;  or  Brennus  flung  his  sword  into  the  scale. 
Livy  confesses  his  inabiHty  to  fix  the  respective 
nationahty  of  the  Uoratii  and  Cin-iatii ;  and  Sir  George 
Lewis  presses  tlie  absurdity  of  supposing  that  Corio- 
lanus  acted  a  twentietli  part  of  tlie  melodramatic  scenes 
assigned  to  liim  ;  as,  for  example,  tliat,  with  Tullus 
Aufidius  at  his  side,  he  was  permitted,  at  his  mother's 
intercession,  to  lead  back  the  Volscians  thirsting  for 
reveni^e. 

Herodotus  lias  fared  even  worse  than  Livy  at  the 
hands  of  some  modern  critics  (although,  by  the  way, 
the  tenor  of  recent  discoveries  has  been  much  in  his 
favour)  ;  and  Mr.  Gladstone's  argument  for  converting 
Homer  into  a  veridical  historian  on  the  strength  of  the 
minuteness  of  his  descriptions  and  details,  would  serve 
equally  well  to  prove  that  Eobinson  Crusoe  actually 
inhabited  his  island,  or  that  Gulliver  was  really  wrecked 
at  Lilliput. 

'  But  over  and  above  tlie  episodes  which  seem  to  owe  their 
place  in  the  poem  to  the  historic  aim,  there  are  a  multitude 
of  minor  shadings,  which,  as  Homer  could  have  derived  no 
advantage  from  feigning  them,  we  are  compelled  to  suppose 
real.  They  are  the  parts  of  the  graceful  finish  of  a  true 
story,  hut  they  have  not  the  showy  character  of  ivhat  has 
been  invented  for  effect.  Why,  for  instance,  should  Homer 
say  of  Clytemnestra  that,  till  corrupted  by  ^gysthus,  she 
was  good.  Why  should  it  be  worth  his  while  to  pretend  that 
the  iron  ball,  offered  by  Achilles  for  a  prize,  was  the  one 
formerly  pitched  by  yEtion  ?  Wliy  should  he  occupy  eight 
lines  in  describing  the  dry  trench  round  which  the  chariots 
were  to  drive  ?  Why  should  he  tell  us  that  Tydeus  was  of 
small  stature  ?  Why  does  Menelaus  drive  a  mare  ?  Why 
has  Penelope  a  sister  Tphthine,  who  was  wedded  to  Eumetus, 
wanted  for  no  other  purpose  than  as  a  'persona  for  Minerva 
in  a  dream  ?  Those  questions,  everyone  will  admit  miglit 
be  indefinitely  multiplied.'* 

The  parallel  questions  might  be  multiplied  as  fast- 

^  Studies  on  Ilonicr,  itc,  vol.  i.  p.  28. 


THE    PEARLS    AND    MOCK   PEARLS    OF    IILSTORY.  7 

Wliy  does  Eobinson  Crusoe  tell  us  that  he  was  born  in 
the  year  1632,  in  the  city  of  York,  and  had  two  elder 
brothers,  '  one  of  which  was  lieutenant-colonel  to  an 
English  regiment  of  foot  in  Flanders,  formerly  com- 
manded by  the  famous  Colonel  Lochhart '  ?  Why  does 
Joseph  Andrews,  in  the  battle  with  the  hounds,  grasp 
a  cudgel,  '  which  his  father  had  of  his  grandfather,  to 
wdiom  a  mighty  strong  man  of  Kent  had  given  it  for  a 
present  on  that  day  when  he  broke  three  heads  on  the 
stage.  It  was  a  cudgel  of  mighty  strength,  made  by 
one  of  Mr.  Deard's  best  workmen,  whom  no  other 
master  can  equal '  ?  Why  does  Gulliver  relate  that 
he  was  the  third  of  five  sons ;  that  he  was  bound 
apprentice  to  Mr.  James  Bates,  an  eminent  surgeon  of 
London  ;  that,  when  he  set  up  on  his  own  account, 
he  took  part  of  a  small  house  in  the  Old  Jewry ;  then 
removed  to  Fetter  Lane,  and  afterwards  to  Wapping, 
'  hoping  to  get  business  among  the  sailors  ?  '  Why  does 
Hotspur  ride  '  a  roan,  a  cropear,  is  it  not  ?  ' 

The  reason,  obvious  enough,  is  given  in  a  sentenc3 
from  Dunlop's  '  History  of  Fiction,'  quoted  by  Scott : 
'  Those  minute  references  immediately  lead  us  to  give 
credit  to  the  whole  narrative,  since  we  think  they 
would  hardly  have  been  mentioned  unless  they  w^e 
true.'  Ars  est  celare  artem.  The  effect  would  fail  if 
they  had  a  showy  character,  as  if  invented  for  effect. 
Homer's  employment  of  such  details  simply  proves 
that  he  was  a  master  of  his  art,  and  it  is  one  of  his 
highest  triumphs  to  have  produced  on  the  distinguished 
statesman  and  scholar  an  effect  analogous  to  that  which 
Swift  produced  on  the  rude  sailor,  who  declared  that 
he  knew  Captain  Gulhver  very  well,  but  that  he  lived 
at  Queenhithe,  not  at  Wapping. 

We  can  fully  sympatliise  with  this  learned  and 
accomplished  critic  in  his  eagerness  to  reliabilitate 
Helen,  socially  and  morally,  by  showing  in  what  high 
esteem   she  was  held  by  Priam  ;  but  unless   she  was 


8  THE   TEAELS   AST)   MOCK   PEARLS   OF    HISTORY. 

superior  to  all  female  weakness,  there  was  a  matter 
which  occasioned  her  more  anxiety  than  her  character. 
Sir  Eobert  Walpole  used  to  say  that  he  never  despaired 
of  restoring  a  woman's  placability,  unless  she  had  been 
called  old  or  ugly.  Now  the  age  of  this  respected 
matron  has  been  discussed  with  more  learning  than 
gallantry ;  and  the  prevalent  opinion  of  eiiidite  Ger- 
many seems  to  be  that  she  was  past  sixty  when  Homer 
brings  her  upon  the  stage. 

We  could  fill  pages  with  the  sceptical  doubts  of 
scholiasts,  who  would  fain  deprive  Diogenes  of  his 
lantern  and  his  tub,  ^sop  of  his  hump,  Sappho  of  her 
leap,  Ehodes  of  its  Colossus,  and  Dionysius  the  First  of 
his  ear  ;  nay,  who  pretend  that  Cadmus  did  not  come 
from  Phoenicia,  that  Belisarius  was  not  blind,  that 
Portia  did  not  and  could  not  swallow  burning  coals, 
and  that  Dion3'sius  the  Second  never  kept  a  school  at 
Corinth.  Others,  without  incurring  any  suspicion  of 
paradox,  have  exposed  the  monstrous  exaggerations  of 
the  Greeks  in  their  accounts  of  the  invasion  of  Xerxes, 
whose  host  is  computed  by  Lempriere  (that  unerring 
guide  of  the  ingenuous  youth  of  both  sexes)  at  5,283,220 
souls.  '  This  multitude,  ivhich  the  Jidelitij  of  historians 
has  not  exaggerated,  was  stopped  at  Thermopylaj  by 
300  Spartans  under  King  Leonidas.'^  The  Persian 
commissariat  must  have  been  much  better  regulated 
than  the  French  or  English  before  Sebastopol,  if  half  a 
million  of  fighting  men  were  ever  brought  within  fifty 
miles  of  Thermopylae.  Still  there  may  have  been 
enough  to  give  occasion  for  the  remai'k  of  the  Spar- 
tan, that,  if  the  Persian  arrows  flew  so  thick  as  to 
intercept  the  sun,  they  should  fight  in  the  shade  : 
enough  also  to  elicit  tlie  touching  reflection  of  Xerxes 

*  Lempriere's  'Classical  Dictionnry.'  T.ast  edition.  Title  Xerxes, 
'  To  admit  this  overwhelming  total,  or  nnything  near  to  it,  is  obviously 
impossible.' — G)f>(e,\o\.  v.  p.  40.  ISIr.  (irott-  nccejits  the  Iradilion  of  the 
300  Spartans,  whom  rcspeetablo  autliors  have  computed  at  7,000,  and 
fcven  at  12,000. 


THE  PEARLS  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY.     9 

as  he  gazed  upon  tlie  assembled  host  ;  if,  indeed,  tliis 
should  not  be  rejected  as  out  of  keeping  with  the  mad 
pranks  he  played  on  the  first  occurrence  of  a  check. 

This  is  one  of  the  instances  in  which,  with  deference 
to  Sir  George  Lewds,  internal  evidence  is  superior  to 
external.  Herodotus  was  four  years  old  when  the  Per- 
sian invasion  commenced :  he  was  only  thirty-nine 
wdien  he  recited  his  History  at  the  Olympic  Games. 
He  must  have  conversed  with  many  who  had  been 
personally  engaged  in  the  war ;  he  was  truthful,  if 
superstitious  and  credulous ;  and  contemporary  tes- 
timony might  doubtless  have  been  procured,  that,  to 
the  best  of  the  deponents'  belief,  the  Persian  army 
drank  up  rivers  on  then*  march.  Internal  probability 
or  improbability  must  also  be  allowed  considerable 
weight,  when  we  have  to  deal  with  the  records  of  a 
later  ace.  Modern  chemists  have  been  unable  to 
discover  how  Hannibal  could  have  pierced  rocks,  or 
Cleopatra  dissolved  pearls,  with  vinegar.  Napoleon, 
at  St.  Helena,  occasionally  read  and  commented  on  the 
alleofed  traits  of  ancient  valour  and  virtue  : — 

'  He  strongly  censured  what  he  called  historical  sillinesses 
(niaiseries),  ridiculously  exalted  by  the  translators  and  com- 
mentators. These  betrayed  from  the  beginning,  he  said, 
historians  who  judged  ill  of  men  and  their  position.  It  was 
wrong,  for  example,  to  make  so  much  of  the  continence  of 
Scipio,  or  to  expatiate  on  the  calmness  of  Alexander,  Caesar, 
and  others,  for  having  slept  on  the  eve  of  a  battle.  None 
but  a  monk  excluded  from  women,  whose  face  glows  at  their 
approach,  could  make  it  a  great  merit  in  Scipio  not  to  have 
outraged  one  whom  chance  placed  in  his  power.  As  to 
sleeping  immediately  before  a  battle,  there  are  none  of  our 
soldiers,  of  our  generals,  who  have  not  repeated  this  marvel 
twenty  times ;  and  nearly  all  their  heroism  lay  in  the  fore- 
going fatigue.' 

Napoleon  might  have  referred  to  Aulus  Gellius, 
who,  after  a   mocking  allusion  to   the  continence  of 


10         THE    PEARLS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY. 

Scipio  and  a  similar  instance  of  self-restraint  practised 
by  Alexander  towards  the  wife  and  sister  of  Darius, 
adds : — 

'  It  is  said  of  this  Scipio,  I  know  not  whether  truly  or 
otherwise,  but  it  is  related  that  when  a  young  man  he  was 
not  immaculate ;  and  it  is  nearly  certain  {propemodum 
constitisse)  that  these  verses  were  written  by  Cn.  Naevius, 
the  poet,  against  him  : — 

*  Etiam  qui  res  magnas  manu  soepe  gessit  gloriose  ; 
Ciijus  facta  viva  nunc  vigent ;  qui  apud  gentes  solus 
Prnestat ;  euni  suus  pater  cum  pallio  uno  ab  aniica  abduxit.' 

I  believe  that  these  verses  induced  Valerius  Antias  to  express 
himself  concerning  the  morality  of  Scipio  in  contradiction 
to  all  other  writers,  and  to  say  that  this  captive  maid  was 
not  restored  to  her  father.'  * 

It  is  hard  on  Scipio  to  be  deprived  of  his  prescriptive 
re{)utation  for  continence  on  no  better  testimony  than 
this.  But  '  be  thou  as  chaste  as  ice,  as  pure  as  snow, 
thou  shalt  not  escape  calumny.'  A  German  pedant  has 
actually  ventured  to  question  the  purity  of  Lucretia. 
By  way  of  set-ofF,  Messalina  has  been  brought  upon  the 
French  stage  as  the  innocent  victim  of  calumny.  A 
Eoman  courtesan,  so  runs  the  plot,  so  closely  resem- 
bled her  as  to  impose  upon  the  most  charitable  of  her 
contemporaries,  and  make  them  believe  that  she  was 
engaged  in  a  succession  of  orgies,  whilst  she  was  spin- 
ning with  her  maids.  She  is  killed  just  as  the  terrible 
truth  dawns  upon  her,  without  being  allowed  time  to 
clear  herself.  The  combined  part  of  the  courtesan  and 
the  empress  was  one  of  Rachel's  masterpieces. 

It  has  been  tlioufrht  odd  tlint  so  wise  a  kina'  as 
Philip  should  have  exclaimed,  on  Avitnessing  Alex- 
ander's Rarey-like  adroitness  in  taming  Bucephalus, 
'  Seek  another  kijigdom,  my  son,  for  Macedon  is  too 
small  foi"  thee  ;  '  and  Ctcsar's  exhortation  to  the  pilot, 

'  '  'J'hf;  Attic  Nights  of  Aukis  Cielliua/  B.  vi.  c.  8  (translated  by  Ijcloe), 
vol.  ii.  p.  2-i. 


THE    PEARLS   AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    IILSTORY.        11 

Ccesarem  vehis  {'Thou  earnest  Cossar  and  liis  fortunes  '), 
has  been  discredited  by  Napoleon  and  others  ^  on  the 
ground  that  the  incident  is  not  mentioned  in  tlie 
'  Commentaries.'  Neither  is  the  voyage  during  wliich 
it  is  supposed  to  have  liappened,  which  was  an  ill- 
advised  and  unsuccessful  attempt  to  reach  Brundu- 
sium  by  sea.  Although  the  pilot  recovered  his 
presence  of  mind  sufficiently  to  mind  the  helui,  the 
vessel  was  obhged  to  put  back,  and  the  entire  adven- 
ture was  one  wdiich  Caesar  had  little  cause  to  remember 
wdth  complacency.  He  is  equally  silent  as  to  another 
rash  expedition,  in  which  he  ran  imminent  risk  of 
being  taken  prisoner  by  the  Gauls.  If  his  mere  silence 
is  decisive,  we  must  also  reject  the  story  of  his  crossing 
the  Eubicon,  told  with  striking  and  minute  details  by 
both  Plutarch  and  Suetonius.  According  to  Suetonius, 
his  w^ords  were  :  '  Let  us  go  where  the  divine  portents 
and  the  iniquity  of  enemies  call.  Let  the  die  be  cast.' 
According  to  Plutarch,  he  cried  out :  '  The  die  is  cast,' 
and  immediately  crossed  the  river. 

The  most  remarkable  incident  of  his  death  is  one  of 
the  most  puzzling  instances  of  popular  faith  which  we 
are  acquainted  with.  How,  and  when,  came  the  Et  tu. 
Brute,  to  be  substituted  for  the  more  touching  reproach 
set  down  for  him  by  the  only  writers  of  authority  v\'ho 
pretend  to  give  his  precise  words?  According  to 
Plutarch,  Casca  having  struck  the  first  blow,  Cassar 
turned  upon  him  and  laid  hold  of  his  sword.  '  At  the 
same  time  they  both  cried  out — the  one  in  Latin, 
"  Villain  Casca,  what  dost  thou  mean  ?"  and  the  other 
in  Greek  to  his  brother,  "Brother,  help  !  "     Some  say 

^  '  In  readino-,  Napoloon  leant  to  scepticism  and  paradox ;  as,  for 
instance,  he  ridiculed  as  improbable  the  story  of  Ceesar's  escape  in  the 
boat,  and  his  speech  to  tlie  boatman,  and  was  much  inclined  to  disparage 
the  talents,  and  more  particularly  the  military  skill,  of  that  extraordinary 
man.' — Lord  Holland's  Foreign  Reyinnixcencex,  p.  295.  The  Duke  of 
Wellington  always  professed  the  highest  admiration  for  Caesar' s-  military 
talents. 


12        THE    PE.\RLS   AXD    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY. 

lie  opposed  the  rest,  and  coutiimed  struggling  and  cry- 
ing out,  till  lie  perceived  the  sword  of  Biiitus  ;  then  he 
drew  his  robe  over  his  face,  and  yielded  to  his  fate.'  ^ 
Nicolas  Damascenus  mentions  no  one  as  speaking  ex- 
cept Casca,  who,  he  says,  '  calls  to  his  brother  in 
Greek,  on  account  of  the  tumult.'  ^  The  statement  of 
Suetonius,  is,  that  Ctesar  was  pierced  with  twenty- 
three  wounds,  without  utteiing  a  sound  beyond  one 
groan  at  the  first  blow ;  '  although  some  have  handed 
down,  that,  to  Marcus  Brutus,  rushing  on,  he  said 
Ka)  (Tu,  TSHvov.'  In  some  editions  of  Suetonius,  the 
words  HOI  (Tu  s7  (or  s7g)  Ixsivwv  are  added,  which  would 
make  '  And  you,  my  son,  and  you  are  one  of  them.' 
Dr.  Merivale,  who,  in  the  text  of  his  valuable  work, 
*  The  Eomans  under  the  Empire,'  adopts  the  current 
story,  says  in  a  note,  '  Of  course  no  reliance  can  be 
placed  on  such  minute  details.  The  whole  statement 
of  the  effect  of  the  sight  of  Brutus  upon  Caesar  may  be 
a  fiction  suggested  by  the  vulgar  story  of  the  relation 
between  them.'  The  '  vulgar  story,'  that  Brutus  was 
his  son,  derives  some  confirmation  from  Suetonius, 
who,  after  naming  several  Eoman  ladies  with  whom 
Ca^.sar  had  intrigued,  adds  :  '  Sed  ante  alias  dilexit  M. 
Bruti  matrem,  Serviliam.'  ('  But  before  others  he  loved 
the  mother  of  Marcus  Brutus,  Servilia.') 

It  was  the  adoption  of  the  Latin  words  by  Shake- 
speare that  made  them  popular  and  familiar.  '  His 
authority,'  says  Malone,  '  appears  to  have  been  a  line 
in  the  old  play,  entitled  '  The  True  Tragedie  of 
Eichard  Duke  of  York,'  &c.,  printed  in  1(300,  on  which 
is  formed  his  third  part  of  Henry  VI : — 

'  Et  til  Brute  f    Wil't  thou  stab  Caesar  too  ? ' 

The  history  of  modern  Euro]ie  is  susceptible  of  the 
same  three-fold  division  as  that  of  Greece  and  Eome. 

*  Plutarch's  '  Life  of  Cajpar.'  In  the  '  Life  of  Brutus,'  nothing  is  said  of 
thp  effect  of  Brutus's  appeanance. 

^  'Fragnienta  Ilistoricorum  GrfBCoruni,'  vol.  iii.  p.  446. 


THE    TEARLP    AND    MOCK    PEAKLS    OF    ITISTORY.         lo 

It  comprises  the  fabulous,  tlie  semi-fabulous,  and  the 
historic,  period.  We  regret  to  say  that  Arthur  and 
his  Eound  Table  belong  to  the  first :  so  indisputably 
belong  to  it,  that  archaeologists  are  still  disputing 
whether  the  bevy  of  knights  and  dames,  on  whom 
poetic  genius  has  recently  shed  fresh  lustre,  are  the 
creation  of  French  Britany,  or  the  veritable  progeny 
of  the  ancient  Britons,  whose  Welsh  descendants  claim 
them  as  the  brightest  ornaments  of  their  race.^  Charle- 
magne belongs  to  the  second  period,  and,  as  regards 
him  and  his  court,  it  is  astounding  what  a  superstruc- 
tui-e  of  fiction  has  been  erected  on  the  slenderest  basis 
of  fact.     Thus  Milton  : — 

When  Cbarlemagne  "with  all  his  peerage  fell, 
By  Fontarabia : 

or  the  lines  given  to  Francis  Osbaldiston  in  'Eob 
Boy' :- 

0  for  the  voice  of  that  wild  horn 
On  Fontarabian  echoes  borne, 

The  dying  hero's  call, 
That  told  imperial  Charlemagne, 
How  Paynim  sons  of  swarthy  Spain 

Had  wrought  his  champion's  fall. 

His  champion,  we  need  hardly  say,  was  Eoland,  the 
Orlando  of  Boyardo  and  Ariosto,  who,  besides  a  hqf n 
which  was  heard  at  an  incredible  distance,  has  been 
invested  by  poetry  or  tradition  with  a  sword,  bright 
Durandal,  with  which  he  clove  a  pass  through  the 
Pyrenees,  still  called  '  la  breche  de  Eoland,'  although 
he  could  not  cleave  a  path  through  his  foes.  Then, 
again,  Mat  Lewis : — 

Sad  and  fearful  is  the  story 

Of  the  Roncesvalles  fight ; 
On  that  fatal  field  of  glory 

Perished  many  a  gallant  knight. 

^  See  Wright's  edition  of  *  La  Mort  d'Arthure,'  in  three  volumes. 
London,  1858.  As  to  the  worthlessness  of  the  earliest  histories  of  Arthur 
and  Charlemagne,  on  which  the  later  are  mainly  based,  see  Buckle's 
History,  202,  207,  and  vol.  ii.  p.  484. 


14        THE   TEAELS    AND    MOCK    PE.\ELS    OF    HISTORY. 

'  Tluit  field  of  glory  '  was  a  defile  in  wliicli  the  rear- 
guard of  Charlemagne's  army  was  cut  off  and  put  to 
tlie  sword  by  an  irregular  force  of  Spanish  Basques 
or  (some  say)  a  marauding  party  of  Gascons  led  by 
their  duke,  Lupo ;  'in  which  conflict,'  says  Eginhard, 
'  there  fell,  with  many  others,  Anselm,  Count  of  the 
Palace,  and  Eoland,  Prefect  of  the  Marches  of  Brit- 
tany.' We  have  the  high  authority  of  M.  Teidet,  the 
learned  editor  of  Eginhard's  works,  for  adding  that 
'  this  passage  is  the  only  one  in  which  any  mention  is 
made  of  the  fiimous  Poland,  who  plays  so  great  a  part 
in  all  the  Carlovingian  romances.' 

Earl  Stauliope,  who  has  brought  together  all  the 
available  information  in  his  '  Legends  of  Charlemame,' 
fairly  gives  up  the  twelve  Paladins  or  Peers ;  declaring 
that  the  idea  is  quite  imaginary,  and  appears  to  take 
its  rise  fi'om  the  supposition  that  every  man  of  might 
ought  to  be  attended  by  certain  followers  of  commen- 
surate renown ;  the  number  twelve  having,  probably, 
been  suggested  by  the  Gospel  History.  But  he  has  a 
weakness  for  the  champion  of  Eoncesvalles ;  and  after 
recapitulating  the  gifts  or  qualities  with  which  fable 
has  endowed  him — including  the  horn,  the  sword,  and 
a  beautiful  bride,  Lady  Alda — continues  : — 

'  As  it  appears  to  me,  tliere  is  here  a  striking  similarity 
})etween  the  Roland  of  France  and  the  William  Wallace  of 
Scotland.  The  exploits  of  both  are  unrecorded  in  the 
meagre  chronicles  of  the  times.  These  exploits  live  only 
in  tradition  and  in  song.  Bid,  taken  as  a  ichole,  they  have, 
in  my  judgment,  a  just  claim  to  be  believed.  All  that 
tradition  has  done  is  to  confound  the  dates  and  exaggerate 
the  circumstances.  We  may  be  sure  that  so  great  and  so 
general  a  fame  could  not  in  either  case  have  arisen,  had  not 
the  living  hero  impressed  his  image  on  tlie  public  mind.  I 
should  therefore  entirely  agree  with  Sismondi,  wlio,  in  the 
second  volume  of  the  history  of  PVance,  contends  that, 
although  Roland  may  not  have  been  pre-eminent  at  Ronces- 


THE    PEARLS    AXD    MOCK    PE.VRLS    OF    HISTORY.         15 

valles,  lie  must  have  performed  acliievements  and  acquired 
renown  in  former  years,  wlien  warring  against  the  Saracens.'* 

Probably  enough  ;  but  how  does  this  establish  a 
striking  similarity  between  the  Eoland  of  France,  of 
whom  absolutely  nothing  is  recorded  or  ascertained 
but  that  he  was  slain  in  a  mountain  pass,  and  the 
champion  of  Scotland,  whose  life  and  career  are  so  in- 
dissolubly  blended  with  the  history  of  his  country  that 
they  cannot  be  discredited  without  canceUing  many  of 
its  brightest  pages.  If  Wallace  is  to  be  deemed  my- 
tliical,  because  his  personal  prowess  has  been  exagge- 
rated by  tradition,  why  not  Eobert  Bruce?  Their 
exploits  rest  on  identically  the  same  description  of 
authority ;  and  if  the  historical  evidence  of  the  tliir- 
teenth  or  fourteenth  century  is  not  fuller  or  more 
trustworthy  than  that  of  the  eighth,  it  follows  tliat 
Cambuskenneth,  Falkirk,  and  Bannockburn,  are  no 
better  known  than  Eoncesvalles.  To  descend  to  do- 
mestic matters,  can  it  be  contended  that  Wallace's 
wife,  Marion,  is  as  apocryplial  as  the  Lady  Alda  of 
Eoland  ? 

People  well  acquainted  with  Ireland  contend  that 
Sir  Jonah  Barrington  has  conveyed  a  correct  impression 
of  his  countrymen  on  the  whole  ;  that  all  he  has  dojie 
is  (like  tradition)  to  confound  the  dates  and  exaggerate 
the  circumstances.  This  application  of  Earl  Stan- 
hope's argument  is  plausible  enough,  for  Sir  Jonah's 
stories  are  witliin  the  range  of  possibility ;  but  the  ex- 
ploits of  Eoland  are  not ;  and,  whether  taken  individu- 
ally or  as  a  whole,  have  no  better  claim  to  belief  than 
those  of  Lancelot  or  Amadis.  We  difFer  from  Lord 
Stanhope  with  deference  and  regret ;  but,  if  we  ad- 
mitted the  soundness  of  his  reasoning  in  this  instance, 

*  Miscellanies:  Second  Series.  The  papers  origiually  appeared  in 
Fraser's  Magazine  for  July,  18G6. 


](]         THE    PEARLS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HLSTORY. 

a   large  projiortiou  of  tlie  judgments  wliicli  we  have 
hazarded  in  the  following  pages  must  be  reversed. 

So  prodigious  an  amount  of  learning  and  acuteness, 
German  and  English,  has  been  brought  to  bear  on 
Anglo-Saxon  history,  that  no  excuse  is  left  for  illusion, 
however  pleasant.  Dr.  Eeinhold  Pauli  has  carefully 
examined  the  authorities  for  the  popular  stories  of 
Alfred  the  Great,  and  reluctantly  admits  that  they  are 
far  from  satisfoctory.  We  are  not  prepared  to  give  up 
the  story  of  the  burnt  cakes  because  it  is  not  to  be 
found  in  the  extant  fragments  of  his  life  by  his  friend 
Asser,  but  our  faith  is  somewhat  shaken  in  that  of  his 
venturing  into  the  Danish  camp  in  the  disguise  of  a 
minstrel,  when  we  learn  that  it  is  not  told  of  him  by 
any  of  the  old  Saxon  writers,  that  it  is  told  of  another 
Saxon  monarch,  and  that  it  breathes  more  of  the  Scan- 
dinavian-Norman than  of  the  Saxon  spirit.^ 

The  Chancellor  Lord  Eldon,  who  took  his  bachelor's 
degree  in  1770,  used  to  say,  'An  examination  for  a 
degree  at  Oxford  was  a  farce  in  my  time.  I  was  ex- 
amined in  Hebrew  and  in  history : — "  What  is  the- 
Hebrew  for  tlie  place  of  a  skull  ?  "  I  replied,  "  Gol- 
gotha." "  Who  founded  University  College  ?  "  I  stated 
(though,  by  the  way,  the  point  is  sometimes  doubted) 
that  King  Alfred  founded  it.  "  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the 
examiner,  "you  are  competent  for  your  degree."'  If 
Alfred  founded  the  oldest  college,  he,  in  one  sense, 
founded  the  University;  but  the  sole  authority  for  the 
hypothesis  is  a  passage  in  Asser,  which  is  no  longer  to 
be  found. ^ 

■  '  Konig  Aelfred  tind  seine  Stelle  in  der  Geschichte  Englands,  von  Dr. 
Reinbold  Pauli.'     Berlin,  1851,  pp.  1.30-132. 

2  Sec  Goufrh's  edition  of  '  Camden's  Britannia,'  fol.  1799,  p.  299,  and 
'Thorpe's  Trannlation  of  Lappenberg's  Hisfunj,''  Preface,  p.  38.  Mr. 
Ilallam  says,  in  bia  Introduction  to  the  '  Literature  of  Europe,'  vol.  i.  p.  16 
(Otb  edit.),  '  In  a  former  work  I  gave  more  credence  to  its  (the  college's) 
foundation  b}'  Alfred  than  I  am  now  inclined  to  do. 


THE  PEARLS  AXD  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY.    17 

We   are   gravely  told,   on  historical   authority,  by 
Moore,  in  a  note  to  one  of  his  '  Irish  Melodies' — 

*  Rich  and  rare  were  the  gems  she  wore  ; ' 

that  during  the  reign  of  Brian,  king  of  Munster,  a 
young  lady  of  great  beauty,  richly  dressed,  and 
adorned  with  jewels,  undertook  a  journey  from  one 
end  of  the  kingdom  to  another,  with  a  wand  in  her 
hand,  at  the  top  of  which  was  a  ring  of  exceeding  great 
value ;  and  such  was  the  perfection  of  the  laws  and 
the  government  that  no  attempt  was  made  upon  her 
honour,  nor  was  she  robbed  of  her  clothes  and  jewels. 
Precisely  the  same  story  is  told  in  honour  of  Alfred, 
of  Frothi,  king  of  Denmark,  and  of  Eollo,  duke  of 
Normandy. 

Another  romantic  anecdote,  fluctuating  between  two 
or  more  sets  of  actors,  is  an  episode  in  the  amours 
of  Emma,  the  alleged  daughter  of  Charlemagne,  who, 
finding  that  the  snow  had  fallen  thick  during  a  nightly 
interview  with  her  lover,  Eginhard,  took  him  upon  her 
shoulders,  and  carried  him  to  some  distance  from  her 
bower,  to  prevent  his  footsteps  from  being  traced.  Un- 
luckily, Charlemagne  had  no  daughter  named  Emma 
or  Imma ;  and  a  hundred  years  before  the  appearance 
(in  IGOO)  of  the  'Chronicle'  which  records  the  adven- 
ture, it  had  been  related  in  print  of  a  German  emperor 
and  a  damsel  unknown.  Let  us  hope,  for  the  honour 
of  the  fair  sex,  that  it  is  true  of  somebody.  Fielding, 
after  recording  an  instance  in  which  Joseph  Andrews' 
muscular  powers  enable  him  to  ensure  the  safety  of 
Fanny,  exclaims — '  Learn  hence,  my  fair  countrywomen, 
to  consider  your  own  weakness,  and  the  many  occa- 
sions on  which  the  strength  of  a  man  may  be  useful  to 
you;'  and  he  exhoits  them  not  to  match  themselves 
with  spindle-shanked  beaux  and  petits-?naitres.  Coidd 
we  put  faith  in  Emma's  exploit,  it  might  justify  an  ex- 

VOL.  I.  c 


18       THE    PEARLS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY. 

hortation  to  the  male  sex  to  give  the  preference  to 
ladies  strong  enough  to  carry  a  husband  or  lover,  on  an 
emergency  ;  especially  when  we  remember  tlie  story  of 
the  women  of  Weinberg,  wlio,  when  that  fortress  was 
about  to  be  stormed,  obtained  permission  to  come  out 
carrying  with  them  whatever  they  deemed  most  valu- 
able, and  surprised  the  besiegers  by  issuing  fi'om  the 
gate  each  carrying  her  husband  on  her  bacl^. 

Tlie  story  of  Canute  commanding  the  waves  to  roll 
back  rests  on  the  authority  of  Henry  of  Huntingdon, 
wlio  wrote  about  a  hundred  years  after  the  death  of 
the  Danish  monarch.  Plume  treats  the  popular  legend 
of  Fair  Rosamond  as  fabulous.  According  to  Liugard, 
instead  of  being  poisoned  by  Queen  Eleanor,  she  re- 
tired to  the  convent  of  Godstow,  and,  dying  in  the 
odour  of  sanctity,  was  buried  with  such  marks  of  vene- 
ration by  the  nuns  as  to  provoke  a  rebuke  from  their 
diocesan,  who  reminded  them  that  '  rehgion  makes  no 
distinction  between  the  mistress  of  a  king  and  tlie  mis- 
tress of  any  other  man.' 

Blondel,  harp  in  hand,  discovering  his  master's  place 
of  confmement,  is  clearly  a  fancy-picture ;  for  the  seizure 
and  imprisonment  of  Eichard  were  matters  of  European 
notoriety.  What  is  alleged  to  have  befallen  liim  on 
his  way  home  has  found  its  appropriate  place  in  '  Ivan- 
hoe  ;'  and  the  adventures  of  monarchs  in  disguise,  from 
Haroun  Alraschid  downwards,  so  frequently  resemble 
each  other  that  we  are  compelled  to  suspect  a  common 
origin  for  the  majority.  Trathtion  has  distinctly  fixed 
the  locaHty  of  the  ballad,  '  King  James  and  the  Tinker,' 
pronouncing  'The  Eoyal  Blackbirds '  to  be  the  scene 
of  the  carousal,  and  New  Lodge,  Windsor  Forest,  the 
place  where  the  tinker  was  knighted.  But  an  almost 
identical  adventure  is  ascribed  to  Henry  IV.  of  France. 
The  statement  of  a  Welsh  writer  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  that  Edward  the  First  <mthered  too-ether  all 


THE   PEARLS    AXD    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY.         19 

the  Welsh  bards,  and  had  them  put  to  deatli,  is  imph- 
citly  adopted  by  Hume,  and  made  famihar  by  Gray : — 

'  Ruin  seize  thee,  ruthless  king ; 
Confusion  on  thy  banners  wait.' 

It  is  glaringly  improbable  and  rests  on  no  vahd  testi- 
mony of  any  sort. 

Miss  Aikin  was,  we  believe,  the  first  to  demolish  the 
credibility  of  the  celebrated  story,  that  Cromwell, 
Hampden,  and  Arthur  Hazelrig,  despairing  of  the 
liberties  of  their  countr}",  had  actually  embarked  for 
New  England  (in  1638),  when  they  were  stopped  by 
an  Order  in  Council.  The  incident  is  not  mentioned 
by  the  best  authorities,  including  Clarendon ;  and  there 
is  no  direct  proof  that  either  of  the  three  belonged  to 
the  exj)edition,  which,  after  a  brief  delay,  was  per- 
mitted to  proceed  with  its  entu'e  freight  of  Pilgrims. 

'  As  for  the  greater  number  of  the  stories  with  which 
the  ana  are  stuffed,'  says  Voltake,  '  including  all  those 
humorous  replies  attributed  to  Charles  the  Fifth,  to 
Henry  the  Fourth,  to  a  hundi'ed  modern  princes,  you 
find  them  in  Athen£eus  and  in  our  old  authors.  It  is 
in  this  sense  only  that  one  may  say  "  nothing  new  under 
the  sun." '^  He  does  not  stop  to  give  examples,  but 
there  is  no  diSiculty  in  finding  them.  Thus  the  current 
story  is,  or  was,  that  Baudesson,  mayor  of  Saint  Dizier, 
was  so  like  Hemy  the  Fourth  that  the  royal  guards 
saluted  him  as  he  passed.  '  Why,  friend,'  said  Henry, 
'  your  mother  must  have  visited  Beam  ?'  '  No,'  replied 
the  mayor,  '  it  was  my  father  who  occasionally  resided 
there.'  This  story,  which  is  also  told  of  Louis  the 
Fourteenth,  is  related  by  Macrobius  of  Augustus. 

Dionysius  the  tyrant,  we  are  told  by  Diogenes  of 
Laerte,  treated  his  fi^iends  like  vases  full  of  good  liquors, 
which  he  broke  when  he  had  emptied  them.      This  is 

^  '  A.  M.  du  M  .  .  .  ,  Membre  de  Plusieurs  .\cadt5raies,  sur  Plusieura 
Anecdotes.'     (1774). —  Voltaire  s  Works, 

c  2 


20    THE  PEARLS  AXD  MOCK  PEARLS  OP  IIISTO^. 

precisely  what  Cardinal  Eetz  says  of  Madame  de 
Clievreiise's  treatment  of  her  lovers. 

The  epigrammatic  remark  given  byH.  Say  to  Christina 
of  Sweden,  on  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes  by 
Louis  the  Fourteenth,  '  He  has  cut  ofl'  his  left  arm  with 
the  right,'  belongs  to  Valentinian.  That  of  the  peasant 
to  the  same  monarch,  '  It  is  useless  to  enlarge  your  park 
at  Versailles ;  you  will  always  have  neighboiu's,'  is 
copied  from  Apuleius,  and  has  been  placed  in  the 
mouth  of  a  Norfolk  labourer  in  reference  to  the  lordly 
domain  of  Holkham.  Henry  the  Fourth,  when  put  on 
his  guard  against  assassination,  is  reported  to  have  said, 
'  He  who  fears  death  will  undertake  nothing  against 
me ;  he  who  despises  his  own  life  will  always  be  master 
of  mine.'  This  recalls  Seneca's  '  Contemptor  sucemet 
vitce,  dominus  alienee.'' 

Fabricius,  in  conference  with  Pyrrhus,  was  tempted 
to  revolt  to  him,  Pyrrhus  telling  him  that  he  should  be 
partner  of  his  fortunes,  and  second  person  to  him.  But 
Fabricius  answered  in  scorn  to  such  a  motion,  '  Ah ! 
that  would  not  be  good  for  yourself,  for  if  the  Epirotes 
once  knew  me,  they  will  rather  desire  to  be  governed 
by  me  than  by  you.'^  Charles  the  Second  told  his 
brother,  afterwards  James  the  Second,  who  was  ex- 
pressing fears  for  his  safety,  '  Depend  upon  it,  James, 
no  one  will  kill  me  to  make  you  king,' 

There  is  a  story  of  Sully's  meeting  a  young  lady, 
veiled  and  dressed  in  green,  on  the  back  stairs  leading 
to  Henry's  apartment,  and  being  asked  by  the  king 
whether  he  had  not  been  told  that  his  Majesty  had  a 
fever  and  could  not  receive  that  morning,  '  Yes,  sire, 
but  the  fever  is  gone  ;  I  have  just  met  it  on  the  stair- 
case dressed  in  green.'  A  similar  story  is  told  of 
Demetiius  and  his  father. 

The  Emperor  Adrian,  meeting  a  personal  enemy  the 
day   after    his    accession   to   the    throne,   exclaimed, 

'  Bacou's  *  Apothogms.' 


THE    PEARLS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY.         21 

'  Evasisti '  ('  tliou  hast  escaped  ').  Philip,  Count  of 
Bresse,  becoming  Duke  of  Savoy,  said,  '  It  would  Ijc 
shameful  in  the  Duke  to  revenge  the  injuries  done  to 
the  Count.'  Third  in  point  of  time  is  the  better-known 
saying  of  Louis  the  Twelfth,  '  The  King  of  France  does 
not  revenge  the  injuries  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.' 
Instead  of  being  uttered  in  this  laconic  form  to  the  Due 
de  la  Tremouille,  it  formed  the  conclusion  of  an  address 
to  the  deputies  of  the  city  of  Orleans,  who  were  told 
'that  it  would  not  be  decent  or  honourable  in  a 
King  of  France  to  revenge  the  quarrels  of  a  Duke  of 
Orleans.' 

The  three  last  are  amongst  the  examples  adduced 
by  M.  Suard^  in  support  of  his  theory,  very  different 
from  Voltaire's,  respecting  the  causes  of  the  similarity 
between  striking  sayings  and  doings,  which,  he  con- 
tends, is  too  frequently  accepted  as  a  proof  of  plagiarism 
in  the  later  speaker  or  actor,  or  as  affording  a  pre- 
sumption of  pure  fiction.  We  agree  with  M.  Suard ; 
and  an  apt  analogy  is  supplied  by  the  history  of  inven- 
tion. The  honour  of  almost  every  important  discovery, 
from  the  printing-press  to  the  electric  telegraph,  has 
been  vehemently  contested  by  rival  claimants  ;  and  the 
obvious  reason  is,  that,  whenever  the  attention  of  ^e 
scientific  world  has  been  long  and  earnestly  fixed  upon 
a  subject,  it  is  as  if  so  many  heaps  of  combustible  mate- 
rials had  been  accumulated,  or  so  many  trains  laid,  any 
two  or  three  of  which  may  be  simultaneously  exploded 
by  a  spark.  The  r'esults  resemble  each  other,  because 
each  projector  is  influenced  by  the  same  laws  of  pro- 
gress ;  and  as  the  human  heart  and  mind  retain  their 
essential  features,  unaltered  by  time  or  space,  there  is 
nothing  surprising  in  the  fact  of  two  or  more  persons, 

^ '  Notes  sur  I'Esprit  d'Iniitation,'  published  after  his  death,  with  addi- 
tions by  M.  Le  Clerc,  in  the  '  llcvue  fj'anfaise,'  Nouvelle  Serie,  toui.  vi. 
On  the  subject  of  coincidences  in  fact  and  fiction,  see  also  Keightley's 
'Tales  and  Popular  Fictions,'  chap.  i. ;  and  the  Preface  to  his 'Fairy 
Mythology.' 


22        THE    PEAELS    AXD    MOCK    TE^VRLS    OF    HISTORY. 

similarly  situated,  acting  on  similar  impulses  or  hitting 
on  similar  relations  of  ideas. 

This  theory,  \vhich  we  believe  to  be  true  in  the  main, 
has  one  great  recommendation.  It  is  productive,  not 
destructive.  It  doubles  or  trebles  the  accumulated 
stock  of  oiigiuality  ;  and  whencTer  we  light  upon  a 
fresh  coincidence  in  nobility  of  feeling,  depth  of  reflec- 
tion, readiness  or  terseness  of  expression,  w^e  may 
exclaim,  '  Bfjhold  a  fresh  instance  of  a  quality  that  does 
honour  to  mankind.'  We  have  collected  some  striking 
specimens  in  addition  to  those  already  mentioned  ;  and 
if  many  of  them,  individually  taken,  are  familiar 
enough,  their  juxtaposition  may  prove  new.  Sydney 
Smith  says  of  Mackintosh,  '  The  great  thoughts  and  fine 
sayings  of  the  great  men  of  all  ages  were  intimately 
present  to  his  recollection,  and  came  out,  dazzling  and 
delighting,  in  his  conversation.'  We  may  at  least  assist 
in  purifying  and  utilising,  if  we  do  not  greatly  augment, 
the  store  of  these  invaluable  elements  of  entertainment 
and  instruction. 

The  right  w^ng  of  Hyder  Ali's  army,  in  an  action 
against  the  English  under  Colonel  Baillie,  w^as  com- 
manded by  his  son,  and  intelligence  arrived  that  it  was 
beginning  to  give  way.  '  Let  Tippoo  Saib  do  his  best,' 
said  Hyder ;  '  he  has  his  reputation  to  make.'  This 
closely  resembles  the  reply  of  Edward  the  Third  when 
exhorted  to  succour  the  Black  Prince  at  Crecy. 

Commodore  Billings,  in  his  account  of  his  Expedition 
to  the  Northern  Coasts  of  Russia,  says  that  when  he 
and  Mr.  Main  were  on  the  river  Kobima,  they  were 
attended  by  a  young  man  from  Kanoga,  an  island 
between  Kamschatka  and  North  America.  One  day 
IVIi".  Miiin  asked  him,  '  What  will  the  savages  do  to  me 
if  I  fall  into  their  power  ?'  '  Sir,'  said  the  youth,  '  you 
will  never  fall  into  tlieir  power  if  I  remain  with  you.  I 
always  cany  a  sharp  knife  ;  ;ind  if  I  see  you  pui'sued 
and  unable  to  escape,  I  will  ])luiige  my  knife  into  your 


THE    PEARLS    AXD    MOCK    TE-VRLS    OF    HISTORY.         23 

heart ;  then  the  savages  can  do  nothing  more  to  you.' 
These  recall  the  words  of  the  French  knight  reported 
by  Joinville :  '  Swear  to  me,'  said  Queen  Margaret , 
'  that  if  the  Saracens  become  masters  of  Damietta,  you 
will  cut  off  my  head  before  they  can  take  me.'  '  Will- 
ingly,' replied  the  knight ;  '  I  had  already  thought  of 
doing  so  if  the  contingency  arrived.' 

Florus,  describing  the  battle  in  which  Catiline  fell, 
says,  '  Nemo  hostium  bello  superfuiV  The  day  after 
the  battle  of  Kocroy,  a  French  officer  asked  a  Spaniard 
what  were  the  numbers  of  their  veteran  infantry  before 
the  battle.  '  You  have  only,'  replied  he,  '  to  count  the 
dead  and  the  prisoners.'  ^  A  Russian  officer  being  asked 
the  number  of  the  troops  to  which  he  had  been  opposed, 
pointed  to  the  field  of  death,  and  said,  '  You  may  count 
them ;  they  are  all  there.' 

The  veni^  vidi,  vici,  of  Caesar  has  given  rise  to  an 
infinity  of  imitators.  John  Sobieski,  after  relieving 
Vienna  in  1683,  announced  his  victory  over  the  Turks 
to  the  Pope  in  these  words  :  ^Je  suis  venu,  fai  viiy  Dieu 
a  vaincu  ' — '  I  came  ;  I  saw  ;  God  conquered.'  Car- 
dinal Richelieu  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  a  Latin 
work  dedicated  to  him  thus:  '  Aceepi,  legi.,  probavV  (I 
have  received,  read,  approved). 

When  C«sar  slipped  and  fell,  on  landing  in  Africa, 
he  is  reported  to  have  exclaimed ;  '  Land  of  Africa,  I 
take  possession  of  thee.'  Thieriy,  in  his  '  History  of 
the  Norman  Conquest,'  says  : — 

'  The  Duke  (the  Conqueror)  landed  the  last  of  all ;  the 
moment  his  foot  touched  the  sand,  he  made  a  false  step, 
and  fell  on  his  face.  A  murmur  arose,  and  voices  cried, 
"  Heaven  preserve  us !  a  had  sign."  But  William,  rising, 
said  directly,  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  What  are  you  wonder- 
ing at  ?  I  have  seized  this  ground  with  my  hands,  and  by 
the  brightness  of  God,  so  far  as  it  extends,  it  is  mine,  it  is 
yours." ' 

'  '  The  Life  of  Conde.'     By  Lord  Malion  (Earl  Stauliope),  p.  22. 


24    THE  PEARLS  AND  MOCK  TEARLS  OF  HISTORY. 

Froissart  relates  that  Edward  the  Tliird  fell  with  such 
violence  on  the  sea-shore  at  La  Hogiie  that  the  blood 
gushed  from  his  nose,  and  a  cry  of  consternation  was 
raised,  but  the  king  answered  quickly  and  said,  '  This  is 
a  good  token  for  me,  for  the  land  desireth  to  have  me,' 
of  the  wdiicli  answer  his  men  were  right  joyfid. 

When  Mu'abeau  exclaimed,  '  I  know  how  near  the 
Tarpeian  Eock  is  to  the  Capitol,'  he  may  have  been 
thinking  of  Pope  Alexander  the  Sixth's  words, '  Vide,  mi 
fili,  quam  leve  discrimen  patibulum  inter  et  statuam.' 
But  no  parallel  has  been  found  for  Chancellor  Oxen- 
stiern's  famous  remark  to  his  son,  although  the  reflec- 
tion, a  constantly  recurring  one,  is  precisely  what  we 
should  have  expected  to  find  in  some  ancient  cynic  or 
satirist — '  Go,  my  son,  and  see  with  how  little  wisdom 
the  world  is  governed.' 

The  anecdote-mongers  of  antiquit}^  relate  of  Porapey, 
that,  when  the  danger  of  a  meditated  voyage  (to  briiig 
provisions  for  Piome  in  a  scarcity)  was  pressed  upon 
him,  he  said,  '  This  voyage  is  necessary,  and  my  life  is 
not.'  Marechal  Saxe,  starting  for  the  campaign  of 
Fontenoy,  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  said  to  Voltaire  :  '  //  ne 
s'ac/it  pas  de  vivre, mais  departir.'  Voltaire  put  aside  the 
remonstrances  of  his  friends  against  his  attendinfr  the 
rehearsal  of  '  Irene '  with  the  remark :  '  //  n'est  pas 
{juestion  de  vivre,  mais  de  fairs  jouer  ma  tragedie.' 
Eacine  had  anticipated  both  Voltaire  and  the  Marechal 
by  a  line  in  Berenice  :  '  Mais  il  ne  s'agit  phis  de  vivre, 
ilfaut  regner' 

Voltaire,  speaking  highly  of  Haller,  was  told  that 
he  was  very  generous  in  so  doing,  since  Haller  said 
just  the  contrary  of  him.  'Perhaps,'  remarked  Vol- 
taire, after  a  short  pause,  '  we  are  both  of  us  mistaken.' 
Libanius  writes  to  Aristnenetus  :  '  You  are  always 
speaking  ill  of  me.  I  speak  notliing  but  good  of  you. 
Do  you  not  fear  that  neitlier  of  us  shall  be  belie\'ed  '^ ' 

Themistocles  in  his  lower  i<irtiinc  leaned  to  a  gentle- 


THE    PE^UILS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY.         25 

man  wlio  scorned  him  ;  when  he  grew  to  his  greatness, 
which  was  soon  after,  he  sought  to  him.  Themistocles 
said  :  '  We  are  both  grown  wise,  but  too  late.'^  If  all 
the  good  sayings  attributed  by  Phitarch  to  Themis- 
tocles really  belonged  to  him,  they  would  suffice  to  place 
him  amongst  the  wisest  and  wittiest  men  of  antiquity. 
But  Plutarch,  like  Voltaire,  seldom  resists  the  tempta- 
tion of  a  good  story  ;  and  even  the  celebrated  '  Strike, 
but  hear ! '  is  shaken  by  the  fact  that  Herodotus,  the 
earliest  reporter  now  extant  of  the  debate  of  the  ad- 
mirals, makes  no  mention  of  the  saying,  and  represents 
Adeimantus,  the  Corinthian  admiral,  as  the  person 
with  whom  Themistocles  had  an  altercation  upon  that 
occasion,  Plutarch  puts  the  Lacedtemonian  admiral, 
Eurybiades,  in  the  place  of  Adeimantus  ;  and  adds  the 
incident  of  the  intended  blow  arrested  by  the  words, 
'  Strike,  but  hear ! '  ^ 

The  lesson  of  perseverance  in  adversity  taught  by  the 
spider  to  Eobert  Bruce,  is  said  to  have  been  taught  by 
the  same  insect  to  Tamerlane. 

'  When  Columbus,'  says  Voltaire,  '  promised  a  new 
hemisphere,  people  maintained  that  it  could  not  exist ; 
and  when  he  had  discovered  it,  that  it  had  been  known 
a  long  time.'  It  was  to  confute  such  detractors  that  1^ 
resorted  to  the  illustration  of  the  egg,  already  employed 
by  Brunelleschi  when  his  merit  in  raising  the  cupola-  of 
the  cathedral  of  Florence  was  contested. 

The  anecdote  of  Southampton  reading  '  The  Faery 
Queen,'  whilst  Spenser  was  waiting  in  the  ante-chamber, 
may  pau^  off  with  one  of  Louis  XIV.  As  this  miniifi- 
cent  monarch  was  going  over  the  improvements  of 
Versailles  with  Le  Notre,  the  sight  of  each  fresh  beauty 

^  Bacon's  'Apothegms.' 

'^  'C'^tait  un  plaisant  historien,'  says  Paul-Lonia  Courier,  spea]<iiig  of 
Plutarch.  'II  se  moque  des  faits.  ...  II  ferait  gajrner  a  Pomp^e  hi  ba- 
taille  de  Pharsale,  si  cela  pouvait  arrondir  taut  soit  peu  sa  phrase.  II  a 
rais<in.  Toutes  ces  sottises  qu'on  appelle  histoire  ne  peuyent  valoir  quelquo 
chose  qu'avec  les  ornements  du  ^out.' 


2G         THE    PEARLS    A^'D    MOCK    TEAELS    OF    HISTORY. 

or  capability  tempts  him  to  some  fresh  extravagance  ; 
till  the  architect  cries  out,  tliat,  if  their  promenade  is 
continued  in  this  fashion,  it  will  end  in  the  bankruptcy 
of  the  State.  Southampton,  after  sending  first  twenty 
and  then  fifty  guineas  on  coming  to  one  fine  passage 
after  another,  exclaims  '  Turn  the  fellow  out  of  the 
house,  or  I  shall  be  ruined.' 

The  following  lines  form  part  of  the  animated  de- 
scription of  the  Battle  of  Bannockbmii  in  the  '  Lord  of 
the  Isles ': — 

'  "  The  Rebels,  Argentine,  repent ! 
For  pardon  they  have  kneeled." 
"  Ay,  but  they  kneel  to  other  powers, 
And  other  pardon  ask  than  ours. 
See  where  yon  barefoot  abbot  stands. 
And  blesses  them  with  lifted  hands ! 
Upon  the  spot  where  they  have  kneeled 
These  men  will  die  or  win  the  field." ' 

A  note  refers  to  Dahymple's  '  Annals,'  which  state 
that  the  abbot  was  Maurice,  abbot  of  Inchaffray ;  and 
the  knight  to  whom  tlie  king's  remark  was  addressed, 
Ingleram  de  Umfraville.  The  same  mistake  is  attri- 
buted to  Charles  the  Bold,  before  the  battle  of  Granson, 
to  the  Due  de  Joyeuse  before  the  battle  of  Couitray, 
and  to  the  Austrians  at  Frastenz. 

In  the  scene  of  Henry  VI.,  where  Lord  Say  is  dragged 
before  Cade,  we  find : 

*  Dick.  Wliy  dost  thou  quiver,  man  ? 
Say.  The  palsy,  and  not  fear,  provoketh  me.' 

On  the  morning  of  his  execution,  Charles  I.  said  to 
his  groom  of  the  chambers,  '  Let  me  have  a  shirt  on 
more  than  ordinary,  by  reason  the  season  is  so  sharp 
as  probably  may  make  me  shake,  which  some  observers 
will  imagine  proceeds  fi'om  fear.  I  would  have  no  such 
imputation ;  I  fear  not  death. '^     Stafford  called  for  a 

'  '  Memoirs  of  the  Two  Last  Years  of  the  "Reifrn  of  Kinp  Charles  I.' 
By  Sir  Thomas  Herbert,  Groom  of  the  Chambers  to  his  Majesty. 
London,- 1813. 


THE  TEARLS  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY.    27 

cloak  for  the  same  reason.  As  Bailly  was  waiting  to 
be  guillotined,  one  of  the  executioners  accused  hiin  of 
trembling.     '  I  am  cold  '  ('  Taifroid '),  was  the  reply. 

Fjederic  the  Great  is  reported  to  have  said,  in  re- 
ference to  a  troublesome  assailant ;  '  This  man  wants  me 
to  make  a  martyr  of  him,  but  he  shall  not  have  that 
satisfaction.'  Vespasian  told  Demetrius  the  Cynic, 
'  You  do  all  you  can  to  get  me  to  put  you  to  death, 
but  I  do  not  kill  a  dog  for  barking  at  me.'  This  De- 
metrius was  a  man  of  real  spirit  and  honesty.  When 
Caligula  tried  to  conciliate  his  good  word  by  a  large 
gift  in  money,  he  sent  it  back  with  the  message  :  '  If 
you  wish  to  bribe  me,  you  must  send  me  your  crown.' 
George  III.  ironically  asked  an  eminent  divine,  who 
was  just  returned  from  Eome,  whether  he  had  con- 
verted the  Pope.  '  Xo,  sire,  I  had  nothing  better  to 
offer  him.' 

Lord  Macaulay  relates  of  Clive,  that  '  twice,  whilst 
residing  in  the  Writers'  Buildings  at  Madras,  he  at- 
tempted suicide,  and  twice  the  pistol  which  he 
snapped  at  his  own  head  failed  to  go  off.  After 
satisfying  himself  that  the  pistol  was  really  loaded, 
he  burst  out  into  an  exclamation  that  "  surely  he  was 
reserved  for  something  great."  '  Wallenstein's  character 
underwent  a  complete  change  from  the  accident  of  his 
falling  from  a  great  height  without  hurting  himself. 
Pascal's  narrow  escape  at  the  bridge  of  Neuilly  (1G54) 
produced  a  complete  revolution  in  his  ideas,  and  gave 
a  new  direction  to  his  views  and  conduct. 

Cardinal  Ximenes,  upon  a  muster  which  was  taken 
against  the  Moors,  was  spoken  to  by  a  servant  of  his 
to  stand  a  little  out  of  the  smoke  of  the  arquebuss, 
but  he  said  again  '  that  was  his  incense.'  The  first 
time  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  was  under  fire,  he  in- 
quired what  the  liissing  he  heard  about  his  ears  was, 
and   being  told  it  was  caused  by   the  musket-balls, 


28        THE    PE.^RLS    AND    MOCK    PE.\ELS    OF    HISTORY. 

'  Good,'  he  exclaimed,  '  tins  lieiiceforth  shall  l)c  my 
music' 

Pope  Julius  II.,  like  many  a  would-be  connoisseur, 
was  apt  to  exhibit  his  taste  by  fault-finding.  On  his 
objecting  that  one  of  Michel  Angelo's  statues  might  be 
.improved  by  a  few  touches  of  the  chisel,  tlie  artist, 
with  the  aid  of  a  few  pinches  of  marble  dust,  which  he 
dropped  adroitly,  conveyed  an  impression  that  he  had 
acted  on  the  hint.  When  Halifax  found  foult  with 
some  passages  in  Pope's  translation  of  Homer,  the 
poet,  by  the  advice  of  Garth,  left  them  as  they  stood, 
told  the  peer  at  the  next  reading  that  they  had  been 
retouched,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  him  as 
easily  satisfied  as  his  Holiness.  Louis  XIV.  adopted  a 
safer  method  of  supporting  his  character  as  a  connois- 
seur. Having  to  decide  between  a  copy  and  the  ori- 
ginal of  a  beautiful  picture,  he  asked  to  be  secretly 
informed  beforehand  on  the  subject :  '  II  ne  faut  pas 
qu'un  roi  soit  expose  a  se  tromper.' 

When  Lycurgus  was  to  reform  and  alter  the  state  of 
Sparta,  in  the  consultation  one  advised  that  it  should 
be  reduced  to  an  absolute  popular  equality  ;  but  Lycm'- 
gus  said  to  him,  '  Sir,  begin  it  in  your  own  house.' 
Had  Dr.  Johnson  forgotten  this  among  Bacon's  '  Apo- 
thegms '  when  he  told  Mrs.  Macaulay,  '  Madam,  I  am 
now  become  a  convert  to  your  way  of  tl linking.  I 
am  convinced  that  all  mankind  are  upon  an  equal 
footing,  and  to  give  you  an  unquestionable  proof, 
Madam,  that  I  am  in  earnest,  here  is  a  very  sensible, 
civil,  well-behaved  fellow-citizen,  your  footman  ;  I 
desire  that  he  may  be  allowed  to  sit  down  and  dine 
with  us  '  ?  ^ 

In  alhision  to  Napoleon's  shaving, Talleyrand  obsei-ved 
to  Kogers — '  A  king  by  birth  is  shaved  by  anollier. 
He  who  makes  himself  king  shaves  himself  A  prince 
by  birth,  the  great  Conde,  was  shaved  by  another,  and 

'  Bacon's 'Apothegms.' 


THE    TEARLS    AND    MOCK    TEARLS    OF    IILSTOKV.         '29 

one  day,  when  submitting  to  tliis  operation,  lie  re- 
marked aloud  to  the  operator — 'You  tremble.'  '  And 
you  do  not,'  was  the  retort.  M.  Suard  supplies  a  curious 
parallel  to  this  aneedote  by  one  of  an  old  and  infirm 
Milord  Anglais,  who  was  going  through  the  maniage 
ceremony  with  a  young  and  lovely  girl,  and  held  her 
hand  in  his — '  You  tremble  ?  '     '  Don't  you  ? ' 

The  French  '  Ana '  assign  to  Marechal  Villiers,  taking 
leave  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  familiar  aphorism  (founded  on 
a  Spanish  proverb),  'Defend  me  from  my  friends;  I 
can  defend  myself  against  my  enemies.'  Canning's 
lines — 

'  But  of  all  plagues,  good  Ileav'n,  thy  wrath  can  send, 
Save,  save,  oh  !  save  me  from  the  candid  friend.' — 

are  a  versified  adaptation  of  it.  Lord  Melbourne,  on 
being  pressed  to  do  something  for  a  journahst,  on  the 
ground  that  he  always  supported  his  lordship  when  in 
the  right,  retorted — '  That's  just  when  I  don't  want  his 
help.  Give  me  a  fellow  who  will  stick  by  me  when  I 
am  in  the  wrong.' 

Louis  XIV.  is  reported  to  have  said  to  Boileau,  on 
receiving  his  '  Epistle  '  on  the  passage  of  the  Ehine — 
'This  is  fine,  and  I  should  praise  you  more  had  you 
praised  me  less.'  Unluckily,  Queen  Marguerite  (ta 
Eeine  Margot)  had  already  paid  the  same  compliment 
to  Brantome ;  and  the  palm  among  courtly  repartees 
must  be  given  to  Waller's,  on  Charles  II. 's  asking  him 
how  it  happened  that  his  poetical  panegyric  on  Crom- 
well was  better  than  his  verses  on  the  Eestoration — 
'  Poets,  your  Majesty,  succeed  better  in  fiction  than  in 
truth.' 

On  Lord  Thurlow's  exclaiming — '  When  I  forget  my 
king,    may  my  God   forget   me,'   Wilkes  muttered — 

'  He'll  see  you  d d  first.'     Lord  Hussell  states  that 

Burke's  comment  on  the  same  occasion  was — 'And 
the  best  thing  God  can  do  for  him.'  One  of  Bacon's 
'  apothegnT^ '  is — '  Bion  was  sailhig,  and  there  fell  out 


30        THE   TEARLS   AND    MOCK   PEARLS   OF   HISTORY. 

a  great  tempest,  and  the  mariners,  that  were  ^\acked 
and  dissolute  fellows,  called  upon  the  gods ;  but  Bion 
said  to  them — "  Peace,  let  them  not  know  you  are 
here." ' 

Care  must  be  taken  to  distinguish  the  cases,  in  which, 
from  failure  of  collateral  proof  or  internal  evidence  or 
from  the  character  of  the  narrator,  the  repetition  or  re- 
appearance of  the  story  raises  a  reasonable  suspicion  of 
its  authenticity ;  and  it  unluckily  happens  that  quaint 
instances  of  ill-nature,  absurdity,  stupidity,  or  worse, 
are  even  more  likely  to  be  produced  in  duplicate  or 
triplicate  than  heroic  actions  and  generous  impulses. 

Mummius  told  the  commissioners  who  were  employed 
in  carrj^ng  the  plunder  of  Corinth,  including  many 
masterpieces  of  Grecian  art,  to  Eome,  that  he  should 
insist  on  their  replacing  any  that  were  destroyed  or 
injured.  An  Englishman,  on  hearing  of  Canova's 
death,  asked  the  great  sculptor's  brother  if  he  meant  to 
carry  on  the  business. 

One  of  the  petty  tyrants  of  Italy,  during  the  Middle 
Ages,  was  met  on  the  middle  of  a  bridge  by  the  bearer 
of  a  sentence  of  excommunication.  He  asked  the 
messenger  whetlier  he  would  eat  or  diink,  and  cut 
short  his  astonisliment  by  explaining  that  the  alterna- 
tive thereby  proposed  was  whether  he  would  eat  up  the 
Papal  bull,  seal  and  all,  or  be  fknig  over  the  parapet 
into  the  river.  Martin  of  Galway,  '  Humanity  Dick,' 
made  nearly  the  same  proposal  to  an  Irish  process- 
server,  who  was  foolish  enough  to  venture  into  a 
district  where  the  royal  writs  never  ran. 

'  In  such  partial  views  of  early  times,'  says  Savigny, 
'  v\'e  resemble  tlie  travellers  who  remark  with  great 
astonishment  that  in  France  the  little  children,  nay, 
even  the  common  people,  speak  French  with  perfect 
fluency.'^  Tliere  is  not  a  country  in  Europe,  and 
hardly  a  county  in  England,  where  they  are  not  ready 

*  '  The  Vocation  of  our  Age  for  Legislation  and  Jurisprudence,' chap.  ii. 


THE  PEARLS  AXD  MOCK  TEARLS  OF  HISTORY'.    31 

to  name  some  individual  traveller  by  whom  the  same 
astonishment  was  expressed.  The  echo  which  politely 
replies,  '  very  well,  I  thank  you,'  to  the  ordinary  inquuy 
after  health,  may  be  heard  in  Gascony  as  well  as  at 
Killarney.  Who  has  not  laughed  at  the  story  of  the 
letter-writer  who  concludes — '  I  would  say  more  but 
for  an  impudent  Irishman  who  is  looking  over  my 
shoulder,  and  reading  eveiything  I  write  ' — with  the 

self-betraying  denial  of  the  Irishman,  '  that's  a  d d 

lie  ? '  A  similar  story  may  be  read  in  Galland's  *  Paroles 
Kemarquables  des  Orientaux.'  It  is  not  impossible 
that  this  comic  incident  or  fiction  gave  Frederic  the 
Great  the  hint  for  the  terrible  couj)  de  theatre  in  the 
tent  of  the  officer  who,  when  all  lights  had  been  for- 
bidden under  pain  of  death,  was  found  finishing  a 
letter  to  his  wife  by  the  light  of  a  taper: — '  Add  a  post- 
script. Before  this  reaches  you  I  shall  be  shot  for 
disobedience  of  orders ;'  and  shot  he  was.  Mrs.  Norton 
has  based  a  beautiful  song  upon  this  event,  which  is  only 
too  well  attested. 

The  same  spirit  of  inquiry  which  may  rob  us  of  some 
cherished  illusions,  may  also  relieve  human  nature  from 
an  unmerited  stigma  of  barbarism  or  cruelty.  Thus, 
Heyne  absolves  Omar  from  the  crime  of  burning  th« 
library  of  Alexandria ;  and  serious  doubts  have  assailed 
the  authenticity  of  the  order  attributed  to  the  Legate  at 
the  sack  of  Beziers  in  1209 — '  Kill  them  all.  God  will 
recognise  his  own.'  M.  Fournier  has  devoted  an  entire 
section  to  the  charge  against  Charles  IX.,  of  firing  on 
the  Huguenots  with  an  arquebuss  from  the  window  of 
the  Louvre  during  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew  ; 
and  his  verdict,  after  collating  the  authorities,  is  '  not 
proven.'  In  the  '  Journal '  of  Barbier  the  scene  is  laid 
in  the  balcony  of  the  palace  of  the  Petit  Bourbon,  pulled 
down  in  1758. 

Shenstone  defined  good  writing  to  consist  in  or  of 
'  spontaneous  thought  and  laboured  expression.'    Many 


62,        THE   PE.VKLS   AND    MOCK   PEARLS   OF   HISTORY. 

famous  sayings  comprise  these  two  elements  of  excel- 
lence ;  the  original  writer  or  speaker  furnishing  tlie 
thought,  and  the  chronicler  tlie  expression.  When  the 
omission,  addition,  or  alteration  of  a  word  or  two  will 
give  point  and  currency  to  a  phrase,  or  even  elevate  a 
platitude  into  wit  or  poetry,  the  temptation  to  the 
historian  or  biographer  seems  irresistible. 

Chateaubriand,  in  his  '  Analyse  raisonnee  de  I'His- 
toire  de  France,'  relates  that  Philip  the  Sixth,  flying 
from  the  field  of  Crecy,  arrived  late  at  night  before  the 
gates  of  the  Castle  of  Broye,  and,  on  being  challenged 
by  the  chatelaine,  cried  out, '  Ouvrez ;  c'est  la  fortune  de 
la  France  / '  '  a  finer  phrase  than  that  of  Csesar  in  the 
storm ;  magnanimous  confidence,  equally  honourable 
to  the  subject  and  the  monarch,  and  which  paints  the 
grandeur  of  both  in  the  monarchy  of  Saint  Louis.'  The 
received  authority  for  this  phrase  was  Froissart,  and  it 
will  be  found  faithfully  reproduced  in  the  old  English 
translation  of  Lord  Berners.  The  genuine  text  is  now 
admitted  to  be — '  Ouvrez^  ouvrez ;  c'est  Vinfortum  roi 
de  France!'  Buchon,  the  learned  editor  of  the  French 
Chronicles,  hastened  to  Chateaubriand  with  the  dis- 
covery, and  suggested  the  propriety  of  a  correction  in 
the  next  edition  of  his  book,  but  found  the  author  of 
the  '  Genius  of  Cluristianity '  bent  on  remaining  splen- 
dide  mendax  and  insensible  to  the  modest  merit  of 
truth. 

Chateaubriand  was  no  less  zealous  for  the  authenti- 
city of  Francis  the  First's  famous  note  to  his  mother 
after  the  battle  of  Pavia  :  '  Tout  estiierdufors  llionneur^ 
which,  till  recently,  rested  on  tradition  and  popular 
belief.  The  real  letter  has  been  printed  by  M.  Cham- 
pollion  from  a  manuscript  journal  of  the  period,  and 
begins  thus  : — 

'  Madame, — Pour  voiis  advertir  comment  se  porte  le  ressort 
de  mon  infortune,  de  toutes  clioses  n'  in'est  demoure  que 
I'honneur  ci  la  vie  qui  est  saulve,  et  pour  ce  que  en  nostre 


THE   PEARLS   AND    iMOCK   PEARLS   OF   IILSTORY.        33 

adversite  cette  nouvelle  vous  fera  quelque  resconfurt,  j'ay 
prie  qu'on  me  laissat  pour  escrire  ces  lettres,  ce  qu'on  rn'a 
agreablement  accorde.' 

M.  Fournier  suggests  tliat  the  current  version  may 
be  traced  to  tlie  Spanish  historian,  Antonio  de  Vera, 
who  translates  the  alleged  billet :  '  Madama,  toto  se  ha 
perdido  sino  es la  honra' 

In  a  note  to  the  '  Henriade,'  Voltaire  says  that  Henry 
the  Fourth  wrote  thus  to  Crillon : 

'  Pends-toi,  brave  Crillon ;  uous  avons  combattu  a  Arques, 
et  tu  n'y  etais  pas.  Adieu,  brave  Crillon ;  je  vous  aime  a 
tort  et  a  travers.' 

The  real  letter  to  Crillon  was  written  from  the  camp 
before  Amiens  seven  years  after  the  affair  of  Arques, 
and  is  four  times  as  lons^.     It  bemus  : — 

'  Brave  Grrillon,  Pendes-vous  de  n'avoir  este  pr^s  de  moy, 
lundi  dernier,  a  la  plus  belie  occasion,'  &c.  &c. 

Henry  seems  to  have  been  in  the  habit  of  telling  his 
friends  to  hang  themselves,  for  there  is  extant  another 
billet  of  his,  in  the  same  style,  to  one  who  had  lost  an 
eye. 

'  Harambure,  Pendes-vous  de  ne  vous  etre  trouve  pr^s  de 
moy  en  un  combat  que  nous  avons  eu  centre  les  ennemys,  o^ 
nous  avons  fait  rage,'  &c.     '  Adieu,  Borgne.' 

In  the  same  sympathising  spirit  of  generous  emula- 
tion, '  See,'  cried  Nelson  at  Trafalgar,  pointing  to  the 
Koyal  Sovereign  as  she  steered  right  for  the  centre  of 
the  enemy's  hue,  cut  through  it,  and  engaged  a  three- 
decker,  '  See  how  that  noble  fellow,  Collingwood,  carries 
his  ship  into  action.'  Collingwood,  delighted  at  being 
first  in  the  heat  of  the  fire,  and  knowing  the  feelings  of 
his  commander  and  friend,  turned  to  his  captain  and 
exclaimed,  '  What  would  Nelson  give  to  be  here  ! ' 

Strange  to  say,  tlie  French  historians  have  once 
given  credit  for  an  honourable  action,  which  was 
never    performed,    to     Englishmen.       The    President 

VOL.   I.  D 


34        THE   PE-\RLS   AND    MOCK   PEARLS   OF    HISTORY. 

Henault  relates  that  an  English  governor  had  agreed 
with  Dii  Guesclin  to  surrender  a  place  on  a  given  day 
if  he  was  not  relieved,  and  that,  Du  Guesclin's  death 
occurring  in  the  interval,  the  governor  came  out  with 
liis  principal  officers  at  the  time  fixed  and  laid  the 
keys  on  the  coffin  of  the  Constable.  Unluckily  a  con- 
temporary chronicle  has  been  produced,  in  which  it  is 
stated  that  tlie  garrison  tried  to  back  out,  and  were 
brought  to  reason  by  a  threat  to  put  the  hostages  to 
death. 

Froissart  relates  in  touching  detail  the  patriotic  self- 
devotion  of  Eustache  de  Saint-Pierre  and  his  five  com- 
panions, who  (he  says)  delivered  up  the  keys  of  Calais 
to  Edward  the  Third,  bareheaded,  with  halters  round 
their  necks,  and  would  have  been  hanged  forth witli 
but  for  the  intervention  of  the  Queen.  The  story  had 
been  already  doubted  by  Hume  on  the  strength  of 
another  contemporary  narrative,  in  which  the  King's 
generosity  and  humanity  to  the  inhabitants  ai'e  extolled ; 
when  (in  1835)  it  was  named  as  the  subject  of  a  prize- 
essay  by  an  antiquarian  society  in  the  north  of  France, 
and  the  prize  w^as  decreed  to  M.  Clovis  Bolard,  a  Calais 
man,  who  took  part  against  Saint-Pierre.  The  con- 
troversy was  revived  in  1854,  in  tlie  'Siecle,'  by  a 
writer  who  referred  to  documents  in  the  Tower  as  es- 
tablishing that  Saint-Pierre  had  been  in  connivance 
with  the  besiegers,  and  was  actually  rewarded  with  a 
pension  by  Edward. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  account  given  by  Froissart  of 
the  return  of  the  French  King  John  (the  captive  at 
Poitiers)  to  England,  by  no  means  bears  out  the  chival- 
rous turn  given  to  it  in  the  'Biographic  universelle.'  On 
hearing  that  his  son,  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  left  as  hostage, 
had  broken  faith,  the  King,  says  the  writer,  resolved  at 
once  to  go  back,  and  constitute  himself  prisoner  at 
Eoiidon  ;  replying  to  all  the  objections  of  his  council, 
that  'if  good  faith  were  banished  from  the  rest  of  the 


THE    PEARLS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    IILSTORY.        35 

world,  it  sliould  be  found  in  the  moutlis  of  kin^s.' 
Froissart  attributes  the  journey  to  a  wish  to  see  the 
King  and  Queen  of  England.  'Some,'  remarks  M. 
Michelet,  '  pretend  that  John  only  went  to  get  rid  of 
tlie  ennui  caused  by  the  suil'erings  of  France,  or  to  see 
some  fair  mistress.' 

The  adoption  of  the  Garter  for  the  name  and  symbol 
of  the  most  distinguished  order  of  knighthood  now  ex- 
isting, is  still  involved  in  doubt.  The  incident  to 
Avhich  it  is  popularly  attributed  was  first  mentioned  by 
Polydore  Virgil,  who  wrote  nearly  200  years  after  its 
alleged  occurrence.  The  age  of  the  Countess  of  Salis- 
bury (sixty  at  the  time)  is  objected  by  M.  Fournier, 
and  it  is  worthy  of  remark  that  her  husband  died  in 
consequence  of  bruises  received  at  the  jousts  preceding 
the  foundation  of  the  order.  It  is  not  at  all  likely 
that  such  an  incident  would  have  been  suppressed  by 
Froissart,  who  makes  no  allusion  to  it,  although  it  is 
entirely  in  his  line  and  he  is  the  principal  authority 
for  her  amour  with  the  King.  Polydore  Virgil's  his- 
tory appeared  in  1536.  In  1527,  at  the  investiture  of 
Francis  the  First,  John  Taylor,  Master  of  the  EoUs,  in 
his  address  to  the  new  knight,  stated  that  Eichard 
Coeur  de  Lion  had  once,  on  the  inspiration  of  Sai^t 
George,  distinguislied  some  chosen  knights  by  causing 
them  to  tie  a  thong  or  garter  round  the  leg.  Camden 
and  others  suggest  that  Edward  the  Third,  in  remem- 
brance of  this  event,  gave  the  garter  as  the  signal  for  a 
battle,  probably  Crecy,  in  which  he  proved  victorious. 
But  the  very  number  and  variety  of  these  speculations 
show  that  the  real  origin  of  the  symbol  cannot  be 
traced.  The  motto  is  equally  unaccountable,  although 
as  fit  for  the  purpose  as  any  other  maxim  or  apothegm, 
whether  connected  with  a  tale  of  gallantry  or  not.^ 

As  numerous  questions  of  authenticity  are  made  to 

1  See  <  Memorials  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter,'  &c.     By  G.  F.  Beltz, 
Lancaster  Herald.     London,  1841. 


36    THE  PEARLS  AXD  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  IH.'^TORy. 

turn  on  the  want  of  contemporary  testimony  when  it 
might  reasonably  be  expected  to  be  forthcoming,  it 
may  be  as  well  to  call  attention  to  what  Varuliagen  von 
Ense  notes  in  his  '  Diary.' 

'  Humboldt  confirms  the  opinions  I  have  more  than  once 
expressed,  that  too  much  must  not  be  inferred  from  the 
silence  of  authors.  He  adduces  three  important  and  per- 
fectly undeniable  matters  of  fact,  as  to  which  no  evidence 
is  to  be  found  Avhere  it  would  be  most  anticipated : — In  the 
archives  of  Barcelona,  no  trace  of  the  triumphal  entry  of 
Columbus  into  that  city  ;  in  Marco  Polo,  no  allusion  to 
the  Chinese  Wall ;  in  the  archives  of  Portugal,  nothing 
about  the  voyages  of  Amerigo  Vespucci,  in  the  service  of 
that  Crown.' » 

In  Grafton's  Chronicles,  comprising  the  reign  of 
King  John,  there  is  no  mention  of  Magna  Charta.  But 
it  has  been  suggested  that  the  period  of  publication 
(1562)  and  his  office  of  printer  to  Queen  Ehzabeth  may 
account  for  the  omission. 

Humboldt's  remarks  refer  to  a  reading  at  Madame 
Eecamier's,  in  which  he  had  pointed  out  some  inaccu- 
racies in  the  received  accounts  of  the  discovery  of 
America.  Eobertson  states  that  '  Columbus  promised 
solemnly  to  his  men  that  he  would  comply  with  their 
request  (to  turn  back),  provided  they  would  accom- 
pany him  and  obey  his  command  for  three  days  longer, 
and  if  during  that  time  laud  were  not  discovered,  he 
would  then  abandon  the  enterprise,  and  direct  his 
course  towards  Spain.'  A  closer  examination  of  the 
authorities  has  shown  that  no  such  promise  was  given 
or  required.'-^  Eobertson  accepts,  without  questioning, 
the  traditional  account  of  Charles  the  Fifth's  celebrating 
his  own  obsequies  in  his  lifetime,  as  well  as  that  of  his 
fondness  for  mechanical  contrivances. 

'  *  Briefe  von  Alexander  von  Humboldt  an  Varnhapen  von  Ense,'  See. 
8rd  edit.,  p.  57.  '  We  have  read  bdoks  called  Illstorios  of  England,  under 
the  reign  of  George  II.,  in  which  the  rise  of  Methodism  is  not  even 
mf'nti(tned.' — (Macaulay.) 

'  See  Humboldt's  'Geographic  du  Nouveau  Continent,'  vol.  i. 


THE    I'EARLS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    IIISTORV.         37 

'  He  was  particularly  curious  in  the  construction  of  clocks 
and  watches  ;  and  having  foimd,  after  repeated  trials,  that 
he  could  not  bring  any  two  of  tliem  to  go  exactly  alike,  he 
reflected,  it  is  said,  with  a  mixture  of  surprise  as  well  as 
regret,  on  his  own  folly,  in  having  bestowed  so  much  time 
and  labour  on  the  mere  vain  attempt  of  bringing  mankind 
to  a  precise  uniformity  of  sentiment  concerning  the  profound 
and  mysterious  doctrines  of  religion.' ' 

Mr.  Stirling  (Sir  W.  Stirling  Maxwell)  and  M.  Mig- 
net  are  at  issue  as  to  the  credibility  of  the  alleged 
obsequies  ;  and  although  they  both  state  the  predilec- 
tion of  the  retired  Emperor  for  mechanics,  it  is  very 
unlikely  that  the  variations  in  liis  clocks  led  him  to 
any  reflection  bordering  on  toleration  or  liberahty  ;  for 
almost  with  his  dying  breath  he  enjoined  the  persecu- 
tion of  heretics  ;  and  we  learn  from  Mr.  Stirling,  that 
'  in  taking  part  in  the  early  religious  troubles  of  his 
reign,  it  was  ever  his  regret  that  he  did  not  put  Luther 
to  death  when  he  had  him  in  his  power.'  At  all 
events,  the  tradition  may  have  suggested  Pope's  couplet, 
although  he  has  given  a  different  turn  to  the  thought — 

*  'Tis  -with  our  judgments  as  our  watches;  none 
Go  just  alike,  yet  each  believes  his  own.'  ^ 

It  is  related  of  Raleigh,  that,  having  vainly  en- 
deavoured to  ascertain  the  rights  of  a  quarrel  that  fell 
out  beneath  his  window,  he  exclaimed  against  his  own 
folly  in  endeavouring  to  write  the  true  history  of  the 
world.  We  have  found  no  authority  for  this  anecdote, 
and  the  famous  one  of  his  cloak  first  occurs  in  '  Fuller's 
Worthies.'  When  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  on  being  asked 
what  he  would  have  read  to  him,  replied  ;  '  Not  his- 
tor}%  for  that  I  know  to  be  false,'  he  was  probably 

^  Robertson's  '  Chrirles  the  Fifth,'  book  xii.  Compare  Stirling's 
'Cloister  Life  of  the  Empei'or,' and  Mignet's  'Charles  Quint.'  Lord 
Stanhope  has  printed  in  the  first  series  of  his  '  Miscellanies  '  a  letter  from 
Sir  W.  Stirling  Maxwell,  and  a  letter  from  Lord  Macaulay,  on  the  subject 
of  the  clocks. 


38        THE   rE.\RLS   AXD   MOCK   PEARLS    OF   HISTORY. 

thinking  less  of  the  difficulty  that  struck  Ealeigli,  tliau 
of  the  presumption  of  some  writers  of  his  day,  in  pre- 
tending to  be  at  home  in  the  councils  of  princes  and 
perfectly  acquainted  with  the  hidden  springs  of  his  own 
measures  or  policy. 

In  France,  writers  of  eminence  have  openly  pro- 
fessed their  indifference  to  strict  accuracy.  Besides 
the  memorable  mon  siege  est  fait  of  Vertot,  we  find 
Voltaire,  on  being  asked  where  he  had  discovered  a 
startling  fact,  replying,  '  Nowhere  ;  it  is  a  frolic  (espie- 
glerie)  of  my  imagination.'  The  frolic  was,  that,  wlien 
the  French  became  masters  of  Constantinople  in  1204, 
they  danced  with  the  women  in  the  sanctuary  of  the 
church  of  Sainte  Sophia.  Some  modern  French  his- 
torians have  not  disdamed  to  follow  in  liis  track. 

*  Like  old  Voltaire,  who  placed  his  greatest  glory 
In  cooking  up  an  entertaining  f^tory, 
A\'Jio  laughed  at  Truth  whene'er  his  simple  tongue 
AN'ould  snatch  amusement  from  a  tale  or  sung.' 

The  decisive  turn  in  the  battle  of  Fontenoy,  which 
converted  it  into  a  French  victory,  was  cooked  up  by 
him  with  such  success  that  subsequent  historians  of  the 
hi2;hest  eminence  luivc  been  misled.' 

We  should  like  to  know  whetlier  M.  Lamartine  had 
any  warrant  beyond  his  own  rich  imagination  for  these 
passages  in  his  description  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo : 

*  He  (Wellington)  gallops  towardti  two  of  his  dragoon 
regiments  drawn  up  on  the  edge  of  the  ridge.  He  has  the 
curbs  of  the  bridles  taken  off,  so  that  tlie  animal,  carried 
away  by  the  descent  and  the  mass,  without  tlie  hand  of  the 
rider  lieing  able  even  involuntarily  to  check  it,  may  tlirow 
itself  with  an  irresistible  rush  and  weight  on  tlie  French 
cavalry — a  desperate  manoeuvre,  worthy  of  the  Numidians 
against  the  Romans,  and  which  the  size  and  impetuosity  of 
the  British  horse  rendered  more  desperate  still.  He  has 
brandy  served  out  to  the  riders  to  intoxicate  the  men  with 

*  See  the  I'^ssiiy  on  Marshal  Saxe. 


TJIE    PEARLS    AXD    MOCK    PEAIILS    OF    HISTORY.        39 

fire,  whilst  the  trumpet  intoxicates  tlie  horse,  and  lie  him- 
self hurls  them,  at  full  speed,  on  the  slopes  of  Mont  St. 
Jean.' ' 

A  little  further  on,  we  find  the  Duke  on  his  eighth 
and  wounded  horse,  although  it  is  notorious  that 
Copenhagen  carried  him  freshly  througli  the  entire 
battle  ;  and  towards  the  end — 

'  He  sends  from  rank  to  rank  to  his  intrepid  Scotch  the 
order  to  let  themselves  be  approached  without  firing,  to 
pierce  the  breasts  of  the  horsas  with  the  point  of  the  bayonet, 
to  slip  even  under  the  feet  of  the  animals,  and  to  rip  them 
up  (ecentrer)  with  the  short  and  broad  sword  of  these 
children  of  the  North.  The  Scotch  obey,  and  themselves  on 
foot  charge  our  regiments  of  horse.' 

M.  de  Lamartine  is  a  poet,  and  may  liave  imported 
in  his  own  despite  a  flight  or  two  of  original  invention 
into  his  prose.  But  M.  Thiers  is  a  grave  statesman 
as  well  as  a  brilliant  and  picturesque  narrator.  His 
information  is  derived  })rinci})ally,  almost  exclusively, 
from  French  sources.  His  point  of  view  is  essentially 
{ind  invariably  French,  and  his  works  afford  an  un- 
impeachable test  of  the  kind  of  history  most  esteemed 
by  his  countrjnnen.  The  scene  is  the  channel  before 
Boulogne,  where,  on  the  26th  August,  1804,  a  squadroa 
of  French  gunboats  were  engaged  against  an  English 
squadron  of  frigates  and  other  vessels. 

'  The  Emperor,  who  was  in  his  barge  (canot)  with  Admiral 
Bruix,  the  Ministers  of  War  and  Marine,  and  several 
Marshals,  dashed  into  the  middle  of  the  gunboats  engaged, 
and,  to  set  them  an  example,  had  himself  steered  right  upon 
the  frigate  which  was  advancing  at  full  sail.  He  knew  that 
the  soldiers  and  sailors,  admirers  of  his  audacity  on  land, 
sometimes  asked  one  another  whether  he  would  be  equally 
audacious  at  sea.  He  wished  to  edify  them  on  this  point, 
and  to  accustom  them  to  brave  recklessly  the  large  vessels 
of  the  enemy.  He  had  his  barge  taken  far  in  advance  of 
the  French  line,  and  as  near  as  possible  to  the  frigate.    T\\4 

^  '  Histoire  de  la  Restauration/  vol.  iv.  p.  246. 


40        THE    PEARLS   AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY. 

frigate,  seeing  tlie  imperial  flag  flying  in  the  barge,  and  guess- 
ing, perliaps,  its  precious  cargo,  bad  reserved  its  fire.  The 
Minister  of  Marine,  trembling  for  the  result  to  the  Emperor 
of  such  a  bravado,  tried  to  throw  himself  upon  the  bar  of 
the  rudder  to  change  the  direction ;  but  an  imperious 
gesture  of  Napoleon  stopped  the  movement  of  the  minister, 
and  they  continued  their  course  towards  the  frigate.  Napoleon 
was  watching  it,  glass  in  hand,  when  all  of  a  sudden  it  dis- 
charged its  reserved  broadside,  and  covered  with  its  pro- 
jectiles the  boat  which  carried  Caesar  and  his  fortune.  Ko 
one  was  luoiinded,  and  they  were  quit  for  the  splashing  of 
the  shot.  All  the  French  vessels,  witnesses  of  this  scene,  had 
advanced  as  fast  as  they  could  to  sustain  the  fire,  and  to 
cover,  by  passing,  the  barge  of  the  Emperor.  The  English 
division,  assailed  in  its  turn  by  a  hail  of  balls  and  grape, 
began  to  retrogi*ade,  little  by  little.  It  was  pursued,  but  it 
r&turned  anew,  tacking  towards  the  land.  During  this  interval 
a  second  division  of  gunboats,  commanded  by  Captain  Pevrieu, 
had  raised  anchor  and  borne  down  upon  the  enemy.  Very 
soon  the  frigate,  much  damaged  and  steering  with  difficulty, 
was  obliged  to  gain  the  open  sea.  The  corvettes  followed 
this  movement  of  retreat,  several  much  shattered,  and  the 
cutter  so  riddled  that  it  was  seen  to  go  down.  Napoleon 
quitted  Boulogne  enchanted  with  the  combat  in  which  he 
had  taken  part,  the  rather  that  the  secret  intelligence 
coming  from  the  coast  of  England  gave  him  the  most 
satisfactory  details  on  the  moral  and  material  effect  this 
combat  had  produced.' ' 

According  to  tlie  English  version,  tlie  damage  to  our 
ships  arose  from  their  pursuing  the  French  under  the 
fire  of  the  batteries.     But  the  internal  evidence  of  the 

^  *  Ilistoire  du  Consulat  et  do  I'Enipire,'  vol.  v.  p.  220.  Compare 
James's  '  Naval  History,'  vol.  iii.  p.  333.  This  writer  deduces  from  the 
affair  that  tlic  jrunboats  could  not  face  the  cruisers,  addinp,  '  None  knew 
this  better  tlisin  Napoleon.  The  ufl'air  of  2otli  August,  of  winch  ho  had 
umntcniiondUij  been  an  eye-witness,  convinced  bim.'  M.  Thiers  told  the 
writer  tliat  the  authority  for  bis  account  of  the  aff";ur  was  a  document  in 
the  Arc/itrenfle  la  Marine,  drawn  up  nnd  deposited  there  by  tho  command 
of  the  Emperor,  who-se  well-known  practice  it  was  to  concoct  or  falsify 
the  pikers  jnsli/K'at.ivea  of  history.  IIo  did  all  in  his  power  to  mvstifv  tho 
battle  of  Marengo.  After  writing  three  varying  and  false  accounts,  he 
taused  all  the  original  docunnMits  to  be  destroyed. 


THE    PEAELS    AND    MOCK    TEARLS    OF    HISTORY.        41 

narrative  is  enough.  By  way  of  pendant  to  Napoleon 
attacking  an  English  frigate  in  his  barge,  M.  Thiers 
should  reproduce,  as  the  representation  of  an  historical 
fact,  the  picture,  once  in  high  favour  for  snuff-boxes, 
of  a  line  of  English  soldiers  recoiling  from  a  wounded 
French  grenadier,  who  flourishes  his  sword  witli  one 
knee  upon  the  ground. 

Beyle  (Stendhal),  who  was  with  the  French  army 
during  the  whole  of  the  Eussiau  campaign  of  1812, 
ridicules  the  notion  of  speeches  on  battle-fields,  and 
declares  that  he  once  saw  a  French  colonel  lead  a 
gallant  charge  with  a  piece  of  ribaldry,  '  Suivez- 
moi,  mes  erifans ;  mon  derriere  est  rondl '  adding,  that 
it  answered  the  purpose  perfectly  well.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  most  of  those  reported  by  historians  were 
never  made  at  all.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  did  not 
say  '  Up  Guards  and  at  them,'  at  Waterloo  :  he  never 
took  refiige  in  a  square  ;  and  his  '  What  will  they  say 
in  England  if  we  are  beat,'  was  addressed  to  some 
officers  of  his  staff,  not  to  a  shattered  regiment.  Tlie 
best  of  his  biographers,  the  Chaplain-general,  relates 
that,  in  the  battle  of  the  Nivelle  (November,  1813)  the 
Duke  rode  up  to  the  8otli  regiment  and  said  in  his 
(the  Subaltern's)  hearing,  '  You  must  keep  your  ground, 
my  lads,  for  there  is  nothing  behind  you.' 

'  Follow  my  white  plume,'  the  traditional  rallying  cry 
of  Henry  IV.,  is  quite  consistent  with  Brantome's  de- 
scription of  him  at  Coutras,  '  with  long  and  great 
plumes,  floating  well,  saying  to  liis  people,  O^tez-cous 
devant  nioy,  ne  moffusquez  ^?a.v,  car  je  veux  paroistreJ 
The  noble  speech  given  to  Henri  de  La  Eochejacquehn 
is  too  finished  and  antithetical  for  the  unpretending 
character  of  the  man:  Si  favance,  suivez-moi :  si  je 
tornbe,  vengez-moi :  si  je  recule^  tuez-moi.  This  young 
hero  had  no  quality  of  a  leader  beyond  chivalrous 
gallantry  and  courage,  and  looked  to  no  higher  reward 
for  his  services,  if  the  royalist  cause  had  triumplied, 


42   THE  PEARLS  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY. 

tliaii  the  command  of  a  regiment  of  hussars.  The  real 
hero  of  tlie  Vendean  insurrection  was  the  Marquis  de 
Lescure.  His  widow  married  Henri's  brother  before  the 
pubhcation  of  her  Memoirs,  and  thus  the  name  of  La 
Eochejacquehn  has  become  imperishably  associated  with 
tlie  most  brilhant  episode  of  the  Revohition. 

Voltaire  makes  Conde  throw  his  baton  of  command 
over  the  enemies'  pahsades  at  Fribourg.  Other  ac- 
counts say  '  his  marshal's  baton.'  He  was  not  a 
marshal :  he  did  not  carry  a  baton  ;  and  what  he  threw 
was  his  cane.  A  finer  trait  is  told  of  Douglas,  who,  on 
his  way  to  the  Holy  Land  with  Bruce's  heart,  took  part 
with  the  Spaniards  against  the  Moors,  and  lost  his  life 
in  a  skirmish  : — 

'  When  he  found  the  enemy  press  thick  round  him,  he 
took  from  his  neck  the  Bruce's  heart,  and  speaking  to  it 
as  he  woukl  have  done  to  the  king  had  he  been  alive,  he 
said,  "Pass  first  in  fight  as  thou  wert  wont  to  do,  and 
Douglas  will  follow  thee  or  die."  He  then  threw  the  king's 
heart  among  the  enemy,  and  rusliing  forward  to  the  place 
where  it  fell,  was  slain.  His  body  was  fovmd  lying  above 
the  silver  case.'  ' 

An  attentive  bystander  reports  a  very  sensible  speech 
as  made  by  Conde  at  Lens.  '  My  friends,  take  courage ; 
we  cannot  help  fighting  to-day ;  it  will  be  useless  to 
draw  back ;  for  I  promise  you,  that,  brave  men  or 
cowards,  all  shall  fight,  the  former  with  good  will,  the 
latter  perforce.' 

For  more  than  a  century  the  authenticity  of  the 
pithy  dialogue  between  the  spokesmen  of  the  French 
and  English  Guards  at  Fontenoy  was  generally  al- 
lowed. Lord  Charles  Hay,  hat  in  liaiid,  steps  forward, 
and  says  with  a  bow,  '  Gentlemen  of  the  French 
Guards,  fire.'  M.  d'Auteroche  advances  to  meet  him, 
and  saluting  him  with  the  sword,  says,  'Monsieur,  we 
never   fii'e  first,   do  you  fin^.'     Unfortunately  foi-  this 

'  'Tales  of  a  Grandffitlier,'  vol.  i.  cb.  xi. 


THE  TEARLS  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY.    43 

story,  a  letter  (first  brought  to  light  by  Mr.  Carlyle) 
from  Lord  Cliarlcs  Hay  to  his  brother,  Lord  Tweedale, 
written  or  dictated  less  than  three  weeks  after  the  battle, 
has  been  preserved,  in  which  he  says,  '  It  was  our  regi- 
ment that  attacked  the  French  guards, and  wlien  we  came 
within  twenty  or  thirty  paces  of  tliem,  I  advanced  before 
our  regiment,  drank  to  them,  and  told  them  we  were  the 
English  guards,  and  hoped  they  would  stand  still  until  we 
came  up  to  them  and  not  swim  the  Scheld  as  they  did  the 
Mayn  at  Dettingen.  Upon  which  I  immediately  turned 
about  to  our  own  regiment,  speeched  them,  and  made 
them  huzzah — I  hope  with  a  will  An  officer  (d'Aute- 
roche)  came  out  of  the  ranks,  and  tried  to  make  his  men 
huzzah ;  however,  there  were  not  above  three  or  f(jur 
in  their  brigade  that  did.'  This  certainly  puts  a 
different  complexion  upon  the  matter,  by  converting  a 
chivalrous  intercourse  of  courtesy  into  '  chaff.' 

The  42nd  Highlanders  played  a  distinguished  part  at 

Fontenoy.     As  the  regiment  was  going  into  action.  Sir 

Eobert  Monro,  the  conmianding  officer,  was  astonished 

to  see  the  chaplain  (Dr.  Adam  Ferguson,  the  historian), 

at  the  head  of  the  column,  with  a  drawn  broadsword  in 

his  hand.     He  desired  him  to  go  to  the  rear  with  the 

surgeons;   a  proposal  which  Ferguson  spurned,      ^r 

Eobert  at  length  told  him  that  his  commission  did  not 

entitle  him  to  be  there.     '  D — n  my  commission,'  said 

the  chaplain,  throwing  it  towards   the  Colonel.     The 

authority  for  this  story  is  Sir  Walter  Scott.     A  critic 

like  Fournier  might  object  that  the  chaplain  was  not 

likely  to  have  his  commission  in  his  pocket ;  and  the 

family  tradition  is  that  he  flung  his  bible  into  the  air 

and  seized  a  neighbour's  sword  to  charge  with  his  flock. 

Lord  ^lacaulay  tells  a  parallel  anecdote  of  Michael 

Godfrey,  the  Deputy-Governor  of  the  Bank  of  England, 

who  was  standing  near  King  William  and  under  fire  at 

the  siege  of  Namur.     'Mr.   Godfrey,'    said    William, 

'  you  ought  not  to  run  these  hazards  ;  you  are  not  a 


44        THE    PE.\RLS    AXD    MOCK    TEAELS    OF    HISTORY. 

soklier ;  you  can  be  of  no  use  to  us  here.'  '  Sir,' 
answered  Godfrey,  '  I  run  no  more  hazard  than  your 
Majesty.'  '  Not  so,'  said  Wilham  ;  '  I  am  where  it  is 
my  duty  to  be,  and  I  may  without  presumr)tion  commit 
my  Hfe  to  God's  keeping;  but  you'—.  While  they 
w^ere  talking  a  cannon-ball  from  the  ramparts  laid 
Godfrey  dead  at  the  King's  feet. 

Wlien  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  was  entering  his  barge 
to  lead  the  attack  on  Copenhagen,  he  found  the  French 
ambassador,  the  Comte  de  Guiscard,  at  his  side.  'Mon- 
sieur,' he  said,  '  you  have  no  business  with  the  Danes  : 
you  will  go  no  farther,  if  you  please.'  '  Sire,'  replied  the 
Comte,  '  the  King,  my  master,  has  ordered  me  to  remain 
near  your  Majesty.  I  flatter  myself  you  will  not  banish 
me  to-day  from  your  court,  wdiich  has  never  been  so 
brilliant.'  So  saying,  he  gave  his  hand  to  the  King,  who 
leaped  into  the  barge,  followed  by  Count  Piper  and  the 
Ambassador. 

Two  curious  anecdotes  of  Wolfe  have  been  oppor- 
tunely rescued  from  oblivion  or  neglect  by  Earl 
Stanhope.  The  one  is,  that,  at  a  dinner  with  Lord 
Chatham  and  Earl  Temple  just  before  he  sailed  for  the 
Quebec  expedition,  he  dreAV  his  sword  and  flourished  it 
over  his  head,  vowing  that  he  would  make  minced  meat 
of  the  French.  The  other,  that,  as  the  troops  were 
floating  up  the  river  with  the  tide  for  the  night-sur])rise 
on  the  heights  of  Abraham,  Wolfe  repeated  the  whole 
of  Gray's  '  Elegy'  in  a  low  voice  to  the  officers  in  his 
boat,  and  said  at  the  close — '  Now,  gentlemen,  I  would 
rather  be  the  author  of  that  poem  than  take  Quebec' 
The  flrst  of  these  anecdotes  is  a  reminiscence  of  the  late 
Eight  Hon.  Thomas  Grenville,  who  had  it  from  Lord 
Temple.  The  second  is  couflrmed  by  Professor  Robi- 
son,  of  Edinl)urgh,  wlio  began  hfe  as  a  midshipman 
and  was  in  the  boat  witli  Wohe. 

The  dying  words  of  Wolfe  are  well  known,  and 
W(;ll    authenlicaled.     On     heaiiiiir    an    oflicer   exclaim 


THE  PEAEL.S  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY.    45 

— '  See  how  tliey  run,'  he  eagerly  raised  liiinself 
oil  his  elbow,  and  asked — '  Who  run  ? '  '  The  enemy,' 
answered  the  officer  ;  '  they  give  way  in  all  directions.' 
'  Then  God  be  praised,'  said  Wolfe,  after  a  short  pause  ; 
'  I  shall  die  happy.'  His  antagonist,  the  Marquis,  of 
Montcalm,  received  a  mortal  wound  whilst  endeavouring 
to  rally  his  men,  and  expired  the  next  day.  When 
told  that  his  end  was  approaching,  he  answered — '  So 
much  the  better ;  I  shall  not  li\e  then  to  see  the  sur- 
render of  Quebec' 

Napoleon  stated  at  St.  Helena  that  Desaix  fell  dead 
at  Marengo  without  a  word.  Thiers  makes  him  say 
to  Boudet,  his  chief  of  division  :  '  Hide  my  death,  for  it 
might  dishearten  the  troops  ' — the  dying  order  of  the 
Constable  Bourbon  at  the  taking  of  Eome.  The  speech 
ordinarily  given  to  Desaix,  and  inscribed  on  his  monu- 
ment, is  confessedly  a  fiction.  What  passed  between 
him  and  Napoleon,  when  they  first  met  upon  the  field, 
has  been  differently  related.  One  version  is  that  Desaix 
exclaimed — '  The  battle  is  lost ; '  and  that  Napoleon 
replied — '  No  ;  it  is  won  :  advance  directly.'  That  of 
M.  Thiers  is,  that  a  circle  was  hastily  formed  round  the 
two  generals,  and  a  council  of  war  held,  in  which  the 
majority  were  for  retreating.  The  First  Consul  was  no4 
of  this  opinion,  and  earnestly  pressed  Desaix  for  his,  who 
then,  looking  at  his  watch,  said — '  Yes,  the  battle  is  lost ; 
but  it  is  only  three  o'clock  ;  there  is  still  time  enough 
to  gain  one.'  For  this  again  a  parallel  may  be  found. 
The  Baron  de  Sirot,  who  commanded  the  French  reserve 
at  Kocroy,  was  told  that  the  battle  was  lost.  '  No,  No ! ' 
he  exclaimed,  '  it  is  not  lost ;  for  Sirot  and  his  com- 
panions have  not  yet  fought.'  Desaix,  it  will  be 
remembered,  had  turned  back  without  waiting  for 
orders  on  hearing  the  liring ;  and  M.  Thiers  thinks  that, 
if  Grouchy  had  done  the  same  at  Waterloo,  the  current 
of  the  world's  history  might  have  been  reversed.  He 
is  welcome  to  think  so :  but  the  Hero  of  a  Hundred 


46    THE  TEARLS  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY. 

Fights  thought  differently.  A  drawn  battle  and  a  short 
respite  were  tlie  verj^  utmost  Grouchy's  timely  arrival 
could  have  gained  for  liis  Imperial  master. 

All  the  flashes  of  instinctive  heroism  and  prescient 
tliirst  of  glory  wliich  are  commonly  ascribed  to  Nelson 
are  indisputable.  It  has  been  vaguely  rumoured,  indeed, 
that  the  signal  originally  proposed  by  him  at  Trafalgar 
was — '  Nelson  expects  every  man  to  do  his  duty,'  and 
tliat  England  was  substituted  at  the  suggestion  of  Hardy 
or  Blackwood.  According  to  the  authentic  narrative 
of  Southey,  Nelson  asked  Captain  Blackwood  if  he  did 
not  think  there  was  a  signal  wanting.  '  Blackwood 
made  answer  that  he  thought  the  whole  fleet  seemed 
very  clearly  to  understand  what  they  were  about.  The 
words  were  scarcely  spoken  before  that  signal  was  made 
wliich  will  be  remembered  as  long  as  the  language  or 
even  the  memory  of  England  shall  endure.'  Nelson's 
last  intelligible  words  were — '  Thank  God,  I  have  done 
my  duty.' 

Dying  words  and  speeches  present  an  ample  field 
for  tlie  inventive  faculties  of  biographers  and  historians.^ 
It  is  reported  that  Louis  XIV. 's  to  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non  were : — '  We  shall  soon  meet  again  ; '  and  that  she 
murmured — '  A  pleasant  rendezvous  he  is  giving  me ; 
that  man  never  loved  anyone  l)ut  liimself.'  Of  Talley- 
rand, M.  Louis  Blanc  relates — '  When  tlie  Abbe 
Dupanloup  repeated  to  him  the  words  of  tlie  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris,  "  I  would  give  my  life  for  M.  de  Talley- 
rand," he  replied — "He  might  make  a  better  use  of  it," 
and  expired.' 

Do  such  narratives  command  iin})licit  faitli?     Did 

*  Montaigue  is  the  first  wlio  gave  tho  inipiilse  in  (hat  direction.  *  II 
n'est  rien,'  says  he  in  his  Essays  (liv.  i.  cli.  xix.),  'do  quoy  je  m'iuformo 
«  volontiers  que  de  la  mort  des  liommes,  quelle  parole,  quel  viyage, 
quelle  contenance  ils  y  ont  eu.  .  .  .  Si  j'estois  faisenr  de  livres,  jo  feroy 
un  regii^tre  comnientil  des  morts  diverses.'  Sinc-t^  tlicn  many  volumes  have 
been  written  on  the  subject  in  France,  in  Ilnllnnd,  in  (Jermany,  and  in 
England.  Lad  M'ords  of  J-J/tnneid  Per.suns^  coininlisd  by  Juseph  Kaiues 
(London,  1800),  is  a  sort  of  general  rhume. 


THE    PEARLS   AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    IILSTORY.        47 

Goetlie  die  calling  for  liglit  ?  or  Frederic  Sclilegel  ^villl 
aber  (but)  in  liis  mouth  ?  or  Chesterfield  just  after  tell- 
ing the  servant,  with  characteristic  politeness — '  Give 
Dayrolles  a  chair  '  ?  or  Locke  remarking  to  Mrs.  Mas- 
ham — '  Life  is  a  poor  vanity '  ?  Did  the  expiring 
Addison  call  the  young  Earl  of  Warwick  to  his  bedside 
that  he  might  learn  '  how  a  Christian  could  die  '  ?  Was 
Pitt's  heart  broken  by  Austerlitz,  and  were  the  last 
words  he  uttered — '  My  country,  oh,  my  country  '  ? 
George  Eose,  who  had  access  to  the  best  information, 
says  they  were ;  and  says  also  that  the  news  of  the 
armistice  after  the  battle  of  Austerlitz  drove  Pitt's  o;out 
from  the  extremities  to  the  stomach.^  Lord  Chatham 
made  his  son  William  read  to  him,  a  day  or  two  before 
he  died,  the  passage  of  Pope's  '  Homer '  describing  the 
death  of  Hector,  and  when  he  had  done,  said — '  Pead 
it  again.' 

The  peculiar  taste  and  tendencies  of  our  neighbours 
across  the  Channel  have  produced  a  plentiful  crop  of 
melodramatic  scenes,  with  words  to  match.  Their 
revolutionary  annals  abound  in  them ;  many  true, 
many  apocryphal,  and  not  a  few  exaggerated  or  false. 
The  crew  of  Le  Vengeiii\  instead  of  going  do^vn  with 
the  cry  of  Vive  la  Republigue,  shrieked  for  help,  and 
many  were  saved  in  English  boats.  The  bombastic 
phrase.  La  garde  meurt  et  ne  se  rend  pas^  attributed  to 
Cambronne  who  was  made  prisoner  at  Waterloo,  was 
vehemently  denied  by  him,  and  when,  notwithstanding 
his  denial,  the  town  of  Nantes  was  authorised  by  royal 
ordinance  to  inscribe  it  on  his  statue,  the  sons  of  Gene- 
ral Michel  laid  formal  claim  to  it  for  their  father.  It 
was  invented  by  Eougemont,  a  prolific  author  of  mots, 
two  days  after  the  battle,  and  printed  in  the  Indepen- 
dent. - 

^  Since  this  was  written,  Earl  Stanhope  has  cleared  up  both  quota- 
tions. Pitt's  death  was  clearly  accelerated  by  the  continpiital  news ; 
and  his  last  intelligible  words  were :  '  Oli,  my  country  !  How  I  leave 
my  country.' 

*  When  pressed  by  a  pretty  woman  to  repeat  the  phrase  ho  really  did 


48        THE    TEARLS    AND    MOCIv    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY. 

The  Comte  Beugnot,  provisional  Minister  of  the  In- 
terior, was  the  autlior  of  the  eminently-successful  hit  in 
the  Comte  d'Ai'tois'  address  at  the  Eestoration — '  Plus 
de  divisions  ;  la  paix  et  la  France  !  Je  la  revois  enfin !  et 
rien  n'yest  change,  si  ce  n'est  qu'il  s'y  trouve  un  Fran- 
9ais  de  plus.'  His  Eoyal  Highness,  who  had  extem- 
porised a  few  confused  sentences,  was  as  much  surprised 
as  anyone  on  reading  a  neat  little  speech  comprising 
these  words  in  the  '  Moniteur.'  On  his  exclaiming,  '  But 
I  never  said  it,'  he  was  told  that  there  was  an  impera- 
tive necessity  for  his  having  said  it ;  and  it  became 
history.  It  was  parodied  in  a  clever  caricature,  made 
at  the  accession  of  Charles  X.,  when  the  girafle  was 
first  imported  into  France.  The  giraffe  is  represented 
with  the  well-known  cocked  hat  and  feathers  of  the 
king  on  its  head  and  smTounded  by  the  astonished 
animals  of  the  Jardin  des  Plantes.  '  Mes  amis,'  are 
the  words  put  into  its  mouth,  'il  n'y  a  rien  de  change ; 
il  n'y  a  qu'une  Bete  de  plus.' 

M.  Seguier  denied — La  cour  rend  des  arrets  et  nonpas 
des  services.  M.  de  Salvandy  claimed — C'est  une  fete 
Napolitaine^  Monseigneur  :  nous  dansotis  sur  un  volcan 
— addressed  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans  (Louis  Philippe) 
at  a  ball  given  to  the  King  of  Naples  on  the  eve  of  the 
Revolution  of  July. 

It  has  been  the  fashion  of  late  years  in  France  to 
depreciate  the  capacity  and  the  wit  of  Talleyrand,  in 
forgetfiilness,  that,  if  the  good  sayings  of  others  have 
been  frequently  lent  to  him,  on  ne  prete  qu'ciux  riches. 
M.  Fournier  asserts,  on  the  written  authority  of  Talley- 
rand's brother,  that  the  only  breviary  used  by  the  ex- 
bishop  was  V Iinprovisateur  franqais,  a  compilation 
of  anecdotes  and  bons-mois,  in  twenty-one  duodecimo 

use,  Cambronne  replied, — '  Ma  foi,  Madame,  je  ne  saia  pas  au  juste  ce 
que  j'ai  dit  a  I'ofHcier  anglais  qui  me  criait  de  me  renJro  ;  niais  ce  qui  est 
certain  est  qu'il  comprenait  lo  fran^ais,  et  qu'il  m'a  lepondu  mani/e.'  The 
surrender  of  the  whole  Imperial  Guard  (10,000  strong)  at  Metz  forms  an 
awkward  conimout  on  La  f/nrdc  mmrt  ct  nc  se  rend  pas. 


THE    PEARLS    AXD    MOCK    TEARLS    OF    HISTORY.        49 

volumes.  Whenever  a  good  tiling  was  wandering 
about  in  search  of  a  parent,  he  adopted  it, — amongst 
others,  C'est  le  commencement  de  la  Jin.  The  theory  of 
royal  shaving,  already  mentioned,  was  Napoleon's ; 
and  the  remark  on  the  emigrants,  that  they  had  neither 
learnt  nor  forgotten  anything,  has  been  found  almost 
verbatim  in  a  letter  from  the  Chevalier  de  Panat  to 
Mallet  du  Pan  in  1796.  When  Harel  wished  to  put  a 
joke  or  witticism  into  circulation,  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  connecting  it  with  some  celebrated  name,  on  the 
chance  of  reclaiming  it  if  it  took — 

'  lie  cast  off  his  jokes  as  a  huntsman  his  pack, 
For  he  knew  when  he  pleased  he  could  whistle  them  back.* 

Thus  he  assigned  to  Talleyrand  in  the  '  Nain  Jaune  ' 
the  phrase  :  '  speech  was  given  to  man  to  disguise  his 
thoughts.'  In  one  of  Voltaire's  dialogues,  the  capon 
says  of  men  :  '  They  only  use  thought  to  sanction  their 
injustice,  and  only  employ  words  to  disguise  their 
thoughts.'     There  is  also  a  couplet  by  Young  : 

*  Where  Nature's  end  of  language  is  disguised, 
And  men  talk  only  to  conceal  their  mind.' 

The  germ  of  the  conceit  has  been  discovered  in  one 
of  South 's  Sermons  ;  and  Mr.  Forster  puts  in  a  claim 
for  Goldsmith  on  the  strength  of  Jack  Spindle's  re-« 
mark  (in  the  '  Citizen  of  the  World  '),  that  the  true  use 
of  speech  is  not  so  much  to  express  our  wants  as  to 
conceal  them.  He  also  claims  for  Goldsmith  a  well- 
known  joke,  attributed  to  Sheridan,  on  his  son's  saying 
that  he  had  gone  down  a  mine  to  be  able  to  say  he 
had  done  so  :  '  Why  not  say  you  had,  without  going 
down  ?'  The  embryo  of  Lord  Macaulay's  New  Zealander 
has  been  discovered  in  a  letter  from  Walpole  to  Sir 
Horace  Mann,  '  At  last  some  curious  traveller  from 
Lima  will  visit  England,  and  give  a  description  of  the 
ruins  of  St,  Paul's,  like  the  editions  of  Balbec  and  Pal- 
myra.' The  New  Zealander  first  came  upon  the  stage 
in  1840,  in  a  review  of  Kauke's  '  History  of  the  Popes;' 

VOL.  I.  E 


50        THE    PEARLS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY. 

but  the  same  image  in  a  less  compact  shape  was  era- 
ployed  by  Lord  Macaulay  in  1824,  in  the  concluding 
paragraph  of  a  review  of  Mitford's  Greece.'  ^ 

Talleyrand  had  frequently  the  adroitness  or  good 
luck  to  get  credit  for  saying  of  others  what  was  said 
against  himself.  Thus,  Qui  ne  Vadorerait  ? — 11  est  si 
vicieiLx — was  said  by  Montrond  of  him,  not  by  hira  of 
Montrond.  Again,  when  he  told  a  squinting  politician, 
who  asked  how  things  were  going  on,  de  travers,  com  me 
vous  voyez,  he  can  hardly  have  forgotten  '  the  frequent 
inkstand  whizzing  past  his  ear,'  with  the  accompani- 
ment of  Vil  emigre,  tu  rias  pas  le  sens  plus  droit  que  le 
pied}  Both  Eogers  and  Lord  Brougham  give  him  the 
interrogatory  to  the  sick  or  dying  man,  who  cried  out 
that  he  was  suffering  the  torments  of  the  damned — 
'  Dejd  f '     M.  Louis  Blanc  says : 

'  It  is  also  related — and  it  is  by  priests  that  the  fact,  im- 
probable as  it  is,  has  been  silently  propagated — that  the  king 
(Louis  Philippe)  having  asked  M.  de  Talleyrand  if  he  suffered, 
and  the  latter  having  answered,  "  Yes,  like  the  damned," 
Lonis  Philippe  murmured  this  word,  Deja — a  word  that  the 
dying  man  heard,  and  which  he  revenged  forthwith  by  giving 
to  one  of  the  persons  about  him  secret  and  terrible  indica- 
tions." ' 

The  repartee,  one  of  Le  Brun's,  has  been  attributed 
to  many :  to  the  Eegent  at  the  death-bed  of  Dubois ; 
to  the  confessor  of  the  Abbe  de  Terray ;  and  to  the 
medical  adviser  of  De  Eetz. 

The  French  have  a  perfect  phrensy  for  mots.  No 
event  is  complete  without  one,  bad,  good,  or  indifferent. 
When  Armand  Carrel  and  li]mile  Girardm  had  taken 

'  *  "When  travellers  from  sc^me  distant  region  sliall  in  vain  labour  to 
deci]ilier  on  some  mouldering  pedestal  the  name  of  our  proudest  chief, 
ehnll  liear  savage  hymns  chaunted  over  some  misshapen  idol  over  the 
ruined  dome  of  our  proudest  temple.' — Miscellamotis  Works,  vol.  i. 
p.  188. 

*  Words  addressed  by  RewbcU  to  Talleyrand  at  the  Council  Board, 
quoted  iu  a  note  to  Canning's  'New  Morality,'  in  the  Anlljacohin. 


THE  PEARLS  AND  MOCK  TEARLS  OF  HISTORY.   £1 

their  ground,  and  the  seconds  were  loading  the  pistols, 
Carrel  says  to  Girardin,  '  If  the  fates  are  against  me, 
Monsieur,  and  you  write  my  biograpliy,  it  will  be 
honourable,  won't  it — that  is  to  say,  true  ?  '  '  Yes,  Mon- 
sieur,' replied  Girardin.  This  is  related  by  M.  Louis 
Blanc  ('  Histoire  des  Dix  Ans '),  with  a})parent  uncon- 
sciousness of  its  extreme  discourtesy  or  absurdity  :  '  If 
you  kill  me,  you  won't  write  what  is  false  of  me  ? ' 
'No.' 

On  the  fate  of  Louis  Seize  being  put  to  the  vote, 
Sieyes,  provoked  by  the  urbanity  of  some  of  his  col- 
leagues, is  reported  to  have  exclaimed  La  Mart — sans 
phrase.  He  always  denied  the  sans  phrase^  and  Lord 
Brougham  proves  from  the  '  Moniteur '  tliat  he  was 
guiltless  of  it.  M.  Mignet  relates  of  hira,  that,  on  being 
asked  what  he  did  during  the  Eeign  of  Terror,  he  made 
answer,  '  J'ai  vecu  ' — '  I  lived.'  Tliis  also  he  indig- 
nantly denied.  Victor  Hugo  (in  '  Marion  de  Lorme  ') 
has  versified  another  similar  mot: 

'  Le  Hot  a  L^Aiif/eli/.     Pourquoi  vis-tu  ? 
L'Anyely.     Je  vis  par  curiosity.' 

During  the  same  epoch,  Sieyes,  in  correcting  the  proof 
sheets  of  a  pamphlet  in  defence  of  his  pohtical  conduct, 
read  '  I  have  abjured  the  republic,'  printed  by  mistake 
for  adjured !  '  AVretch,'  he  exclaimed  to  the  printer, 
'  do  you  wish  to  send  me  to  the  guillotine  ?  ' 

As  regards  the  famous  invocation  to  Louis  XVI.  on 
the  scaffold,  Fils  de  Saint-Louis^  montez  au  del,  the 
Abb^  Edge  worth  frankly  avowed  to  Lord  Holland,  who 
questioned  him  on  the  subject,  that  he  had  no  recol- 
lection of  having  said  it.  It  was  invented  for  him,  on 
the  evening  of  the  execution,  by  the  editor  of  a  news- 
paper. 

During  more  than  forty  years,  no  one  dreamed  of 
questioning  ]\Iirabeau's  apostrophe  to  M.  de  Dreuz 
Breze  :  '  Go  tell  your  master  that  we  are  here  by  the 
will  of  the  people,  and  tliat  we  will  not  depart  other- 


52        THE    PEARLS    AXD    :\fOCK    TEARLS    OF    HISTORY. 

wise  than  at  the  pohit  of  the  bayonet '  ('  et  que  nous 
tien  f>ortiwns  que  par  la  force  des  ba'ionnettes ').  On 
Marcli  10, 1833,  M.  Villemain  having  pointedly  referred 
to  it  in  the  Chamber  of  Peers,  the  Marquis  de  Dreuz 
Breze  rose  and  said : — 

*My  father  was  sent  to  demand  the  dissolution  of  the 
National  Assembly.  He  entered  with  his  hat  on,  as  was 
his  duty,  speaking-  in  the  king's  name.  This  offended  the 
Assembly,  ah-eady  in  an  agitated  state.  JNIy  father,  resorting 
to  an  expression  which  I  do  not  wish  to  recall,  replied  that 
he  should  remain  covered,  since  he  spoke  in  the  king's 
name.  Mirabeau  did  not  say,  Go,  tell  your  Tnaster.  I 
appeal  to  all  who  were  in  the  Assembly,  and  who  may 
happen  to  be  present  now.  Such  language  would  not  have 
been  tolerated.  Mirabeau  said  to  my  father,  "  We  are 
assembled  by  the  national  will ;  we  will  only  go  out  by  force 
{nous  n'en  sortirons  que  par  la  force)."  I  ask  M.  de 
Montlosier  if  that  is  correct '  (M.  de  Montlosier  gave  a  sign 
of  assent).  '  My  father  replied  to  M.  Bailly,  "  I  can  recognise 
in  M.  Mirabeau  only  the  deputy  of  the  bailiwick  of  Aix,  and 
not  the  organ  of  the  National  Assembly."  The  tumult  in- 
creased ;  one  man  against  five  hundred  is  always  the  weakest. 
My  father  withdrew.    Such  is  the  truth  in  all  its  exactness.' ' 

Another  of  Mirabeau 's  grand  oratorical  effects  (April 
12,  1790)  was  based  upon  a  plagiarism  and  a  fable :  '  I 
see  from  this  window,  from  which  was  fired  the  fatal 
arquebuss  which  gave  the  signal  for  the  Massacre  of  St. 
Bartliolomew.'^  He  borrowed  the  allusion  from  Volney. 
Charles  IX.  did  not  fire  from  the  window  in  question, 
if  he  fired  on  the  Huguenots  at  all.  Tlie  extent  to 
which  Mirabeau  was  indebted  to  others  in  the  com- 
position of  his  set  speeches  is  mentioned  in  the  '  Sou- 
venirs sur  Mirabeau,'  by  Dumont- 

Home  Tooke  is  believed  to  have  written  the  speech 

'  'Moniteur;  Mnrcli  11,  18.33.  In  Bailly's  'Memoirs,'  published  in 
1804,  there  is  a  third  version. 

"  TIio  speech  is  somewhat  differently  reported  by  Thiers,  'lt(:'volution 
frnnfnise,'  vol  i.  p.  148. 


THE    PEARLS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    IILSTORY.        53 

inscribed  on  the  pedestal  of  Beckford's  statue  at  Guild- 
hall, purporting  to  be  the  reply  extemporised  by  the 
spirited  magistrate  to  George  III.  He  himself  had  no 
distinct  recollection  of  the  precise  words ;  and  contem- 
porary accounts  difTer  wluither  his  tone  and  manner 
were  becoming  or  unbecoming  the  occasion. 

It  is  well  known  that  tlie  great  commoner's  celebrateel 
reply  to  Horace  Walpole  (the  elder),  beginning,  '  The 
atrocious  crime  of  being  a  young  man,'  is  the  composi- 
tion of  Dr.  Johnson,  who  was  not  even  present  when 
the  actual  reply  was  spoken. 

When  the  great  Duke  of  Marlboroucrh  was  asked  his 
authority  for  an  historical  statement,  he  rephed, '  Shake- 
speare ;  the  only  History  of  England  I  ever  read,' 
Lord  Campbell,  whose  reading  is  not  so  hmited,  remarks 
that  Shakespeare,  although  careless  about  dates,  is 
scrupulously  accurate  about  facts,  '  insomuch  that  our 
notions  of  the  Plantagenet  reigns  are  drawn  from  him 
rather  than  from  HoUinshed,  Eapin,  or  Hume.'  Ac- 
cordingly he  requires  us  to  put  implicit  fiiith  in  the 
immortal  bard's  version  of  the  affair  between  the  Chief 
Justice  and  Prince  Hal,  even  to  the  order  or  request 
put  into  the  Prince's  mouth  on  his  accession  to  the 
throne : — 

'  Therefore  still  bear  the  balance  and  the  sword.' 

'  I  shall  prove  to  demonstration,'  says  Lord  Camp- 
bell, '  that  Sir  William  Gascoigne  survived  Henry  IV, 
several  years,  and  actually  filled  the  office  of  Chief 
Justice  of  the  King's  Bench  under  Henry  V.'  '  The 
two  records  to  which  reference  has  been  already  made/ 
says  Mr.  Fosi,  in  his  '  Lives  of  the  Chief  Justices,' 
'  contain  such  conclusive  proof  that  Sir  William  Gas- 
coigne was  not  re-appointed  to  liis  place  as  Chief 
Justice,  that  it  seems  impossible  that  anyone  can 
maintain  the  contrary.'  In  one  of  these,  an  Issue  Poll  of 
July  1413  (four  months  after  the  accession  of  Henry  V.), 


54    THE  PEAKLS  AXD  MOCK  PEAKLS  OP  HISTORY. 

Gascoimie  is  described  as  '  late  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Bench  of  Lord  Henry,  father  of  the  present  King,'  and 
the  date  of  his  successor's  appointment  turns  out  to  be 
March  29,  1443,  just  eight  days  after  Henry  V.'s  ac- 
cession ;  from  which  ]\Ii\  Foss  infers  his  especial  eager- 
ness to  supersede  his  father's  old  and  faitliful  servant. 
Both  Lord  Campbell  and  Mr.  Foss  are  convinced  of 
the  occurrence  of  the  main  incidents,  the  blow  or  insult 
and  committal.  But  the  story  did  not  appear  in  prhit 
till  1534.  Hankford,  Hody,  and  Matcham  have  been 
started  as  candidates  for  the  honour  of  this  judicial 
exploit  by  writers  of  respectability ;  and  the  late  Mr. 
Henry  Drummond  proved  from  an  ancient  chronicle 
that  identically  the  same  story  was  told  of  Edward  II. 
(while  Prince  of  Wales)  and  the  Cliief  Justice  of 
Edward  I. 

Whether  Eichard  II.  was  slain  by  Sir  Pierce  of 
Exton  or  starved  to  death  in  Pontefract  Castle,  is  still 
a  question.  Zealous  antiquaries  have  doubted  whether 
he  died  there  at  all.  HaUiwell,  after  alluding  to  the 
authorities,  remarks :  '  Notwithstanding  this  exposure 
(of  the  body)  the  story  afterwards  prevailed,  and  is 
related  by  Hector  Boece,  that  Eichard  escaped  to 
Scotland,  where  he  lived  a  religious  hfe,  and  was  buried 
at  Stirling.  The  probability  is  that  the  real  history  of 
Eichard's  death  will  never  be  unravelled.'^ 

Eabelais  has  co-operated  with  Shakespeare  in  extend- 
ing the  behef  that  Clarence  was  drowned  in  a  butt  of 
Malmsey  at  his  own  special  instance  and  request ;  and 
in  a  deservedly  popular  compilation,  the  precise  manner 
of  immersion  is  brought  vividly  before  the  mind's  eye 
of  the  rising  generation  by  a    clever  woodcut.^     Mr. 

^  Halliwell's  '  Shakespeare,'  vol.  ix.  p.  220. 

'  '  Stories  selected  from  the  History  of  England,  from  the  Conquest 
to  the  Revolution,  for  Children.'  Fifteenth  edition,  illustrated  with 
twenty-four  wood-cuts.  (I5y  the  late  Right  Hon.  J.  W.  Croker.) 
London,  1854.  The  plan  of  tlie  '  Tales  of  a  Grandfather '  was  suggested 
by  this  book. 


THE  PEARLS  AXD  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY.    55 

Bayley,  in  liis  '  History  of  the  Tower,'  can  suggest  no 
better  foundation  for  the  story  thtm  the  well-known 
fondness  of  Clarence  for  Mahnsey.  '  Whoever,'  says 
Walpole,  in  his  '  Historic  Doubts,'  '  can  believe  that  a 
butt  of  wine  was  the  engine  of  his  death,  may  believe 
that  Eichard  (the  Third)  helped  him  intcj  it,  and  kept 
him  down  till  he  was  suffocated.' 

Well  might  Dry  den  say  that  '  a  folsehood  once  re- 
ceived from  a  famed  writer  becomes  traditional  to  pos- 
terity.' Learned  antiquaries  will  labour  in  vain  to  clear 
the  memory  of  Sir  John  Falstolfe,  identified  with  Fal- 
staff,  from  the  imputation  of  cowardice,  yet  there  is 
strong  evidence  to  show  that  he  was  rather  hastily  sub- 
stituted for  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  whose  family  remon- 
strated against  the  slur  cast  on  their  progenitor  in 
'  Henry  the  Fourth  ;'  and  that,  instead  of  running  away 
(as  stated  in  the  first  part  of  '  Henry  the  Fourth ')  at 
the  battle  of  Patay,  Falstolfe  did  his  devoir  bravely.^ 

'  When  history,'  remarks  M.  Van  der  Weyer,  '  does 
not  succeed  in  disfiguring  the  character  of  a  great 
man,  the  dramatic  authors  take  charge  of  it,  and 
they  rarely  miss  their  aim.'^  This  tendency  is  not 
confined  to  the  lower  class  of  dramatists.  Shake- 
speare's Joan  of  Arc  is  an  embodiment  of  English 
prejudice  ;  yet  it  is  not  much  farther  from  the  trufh 
than  Schiller's  transcendental  and  exquisitely  poetical 
character  of  the  Maid.  Schiller  has  also  idealised 
Don  Carlos  to  an  extent  that  renders  recognition 
difficult ;  and  he  has  flung  a  halo  round  William  Tell 
which  will  cling  to  the  name  whilst  Switzerland  is  a 
country  or  patriotism  any  better  than  a  term.  Yet 
more  than  a  hundred  years  ago  (in  1760),  the  eldest 
son  of  Haller  undertook  to  prove  that  the  legend,  in 
its  main  features,  is  the  revival  or  imitation  of  a  Danish 

^  Mournal  of  tlic   British  Archfeological   Association,'  toI.   xiy.  pp. 
230-23G.     The  paper  was  contributed  by  Mr.  Pettigrew. 
'•*  Opii3culed  (Premiere  Serie)  l*eusees  Diverses,  p.  36. 


56         THE    PEAELS    AND    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    niSTORY. 

one,  to  be  found  in  Saxo  Gnimmaticus.  The  canton  of 
Uri,  to  which  Tell  belonged,  ordered  the  book  to  be 
publicly  burnt,  and  appealed  to  the  other  cantons  to 
co-operate  in  its  suppression  :  thereby  giving  additional 
interest  and  vitality  to  the  question,  which  has  been  at 
length  pretty  well  exhausted  by  German  Avriters.  The 
upshot  is,  that  the  episode  of  the  apple  is  relegated  to 
the  domain  of  fable  ;  the  bare  existence  of  Gesler,  the 
Austrian  oppressor,  is  deemed  apocryphal  at  best ;  and 
Tell  himself  is  grudgingly  allowed  a  commonplace 
share  in  the  exploits  of  the  Swiss  patriots.  Strange  to 
say,  his  name  is  not  mentioned  by  any  contemporary 
chronicler  of  the  struggle  for  independence.^ 

Popular  faith  is  ample  justification  for  either  poet  or 
painter  in  the  selection  of  a  subject;  and  for  this  very 
reason  we  must  be  on  our  guard  against  the  prevalent 
habit  of  confounding  the  impressions  made  by  artistic 
skill  or  creative  genius  with  facts.  We  cannot  believe 
that  Mazarin  continued  to  his  last  gasp  surrounded  by  a 
gay  bevy  of  ladies  and  gallants,  flirting  and  gambling,  as 
represented  in  a  popular  engraving  ;  ^  and  a  double  ahbi 
flings  a  cold  shade  of  scepticism  over  '  The  last  Moments 
of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  expiring  at  Fontainebleau  in  the 
arms  of  Francis  the  i  irst,'  as  a  striking  picture  in  the 
Louvre  was  described  in  the  catalogue.  Sir  A.  Call- 
cott's  picture  of  'Milton  and  his  Daughters,'  one  of 
whom  holds  a  pen  as  if  writing  to  his  dictation,  is  in  open 
defiance  of  Dr.  Johnson's  statement  that  the  daughters 
were  never  taught  to  write. 

*  'Die  Sage  von  dem  Schuss  des  Tell.  Eine  historisch-kritische  Ab- 
liandluT'^.  von  Dr.  Julius  Ludwig  Ideler.'  Berlin,  183G.  'Die  Sage  voni 
TellautV  iSeue  l<ritisch  untersuchtjvou  Dr.  Ludwig  Iltiusser.  Eiue  von  der 
philosopliiscbenFacultiit  derUniversitatHeidclberggekroulePi-eisschrift.' 
Heidelberg',  1840.  Conversations — Lexicon:  Title:  Tell.  Another 
learned  German,  Pollacky,  in  his  History  of  Bohemia,  has  placed  Ziska's 
ekin  in  the  same  category  with  Tell's  apple. 

*  Shojtly  before  his  death,  after  looking  round  on  his  pictures  and 
other  treasures  of  art,  he  said  to  his  pliydician,  ^  Et  il  fmit  qidttcr  tout 
cela,^ 


THE  PEARLS  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY.    57 

Some  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago,  a  portrait  at  Hol- 
land House  was  prescriptively  reverenced  as  a  speaking 
likeness  of  Addison,  and  a  bust  was  designed  after  it 
by  a  distinguished  sculptor.  It  turned  out  to  be  the 
copy  of  a  portrait  of  Sir  Anthony  Fountayne,  still  in 
the  possession  of  his  descendant,  who  has  miniatures 
placing  the  identity  beyond  a  doubt. 

The  picture  of  paramount  importance  in  an  historical 
point  of  view,  which  indeed  might  be  confidently  cited 
as  a  piece  justificative  or  proof,  is  the  fresco  painting 
in  the  Palace  of  Westminster  of  the  alleged  meeting 
between  Wellington  and  BlUcher  at  La  Belle  Alliance^ 
by  Maclise.  It  was  commenced,  if  not  completed,  witli 
the  full  sanction  of  the  Committee  of  the  Fine  Arts; 
and  their  acting  President,  the  Prince  Consort,  per- 
sonally assured  the  artist  that  the  popular  belief  in  the 
place  of  meeting  was  well  founded.  Now,  the  Duke 
says  in  his  despatch  of  the  19th  June  : — 

'  I  continued  the  pursuit  till  long  after  dark,  and  then 
discontinued  it  only  on  account  of  the  fatigue  of  our  troops, 
who  had  been  engaged  during  twelve  hours,  and  because  I 
found  myself  on  the  same  road  tvith  Marshal  Blucher,  who 
assured  me  of  his  intention  to  follow  the  enemy  through 
the  night.' 

In  a  letter,  dated  Paris,  June  8,  1816,  to  Mr.  Muct- 
ford,  after  instancing  the  supposed  meeting  at  La  Belle 
Alliance  as  the  sort  of  error  to  which  writers  were 
prone,  he  says  : — 

'  It  happens  tliat  the  meeting  took  place  after  ten  at  night 
in  the  village  of  Genappe,  and  anybody  who  attempts  to 
describe  with  truth  the  operations  of  the  two  armies,  will 
see  that  it  could  not  be  otherwise.  The  other  part  is  not  so 
material,  but,  in  truth,  I  was  not  off  my  horse  till  I  returned 
to  Waterloo  between  eleven  and  twelve  at  nierht.' ' 

The  Duke  must  have  been  mistaken  in  the  name  of 
the  place,  for  Bliicher  himself  did  not  get  farther  than 

^  '  Supplementary  DespatcLef,'  vol.  x.  p.  508. 


58        THE   PEAELS   AlfD    MOCK   PE^VELS   OF   HISTORY. 

Genappe,  which  is  eight  or  nine  miles  from  the  battle-field 
and  was  not  abandoned  by  the  French  before  eleven. 
But  there  is  a  host  of  concurring  evidence  as  to  the  late 
ness  of  the  hour  of  meeting,  which  is  quite  irreconcilable 
with  the  notion  that  it  took  place  at  La  Belle  Alliance. 

In  the  People's  Edition  of  Dr.  Gleig's  'Life  of  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,'  based  on  information  supplied  by 
the  Duke,  it  is  stated  that  '  indifferent  to  the  thousand 
risks  which  surrounded  him,  he  pushed  on  and  drew 
bridle  only  when  he  and  Blucher  met  at  the  Maison 
du  Roi.  Here  it  was  arranged  that  the  Prussians,  who 
had  fallen  in  upon  the  same  road  with  the  English, 
should  continue  the  pursuit.'  If  the  Prussians  had 
fallen  in  upon  the  same  road  wdth  the  English  at  La 
Belle  Alliance,  this  would  go  far  towards  establishing 
the  point  for  which  M.  Bernardi,  in  common  with  other 
German  writers,  contends : — namely,  that  the  flank  at- 
tack of  the  Prussians  decided  the  day,  and  that  the  rout 
was  already  complete  when  the  simidtaneous  advance 
of  the  whole  English  hne,  which  he  deems  superfluous, 
took  place.'  Maison  du  Roi  (or  Maison  Rouge,  as  it 
is  sometimes  called),  is  between  two  and  three  miles 
from  the  field  of  battle.  La  Belle  Alliance  formed  a 
central  point  in  the  position  occupied  by  the  French 
when  the  battle  began. 

Each  branch  of  the  Fine  Arts  has  contributed  its 
quota  to  the  roll  of  unexpected  successes  and  sudden 
bounds  into  celebrity.  There  is  the  story  of  Poussin 
impatiently  dashing  his  sponge  against  the  canvas,  and 
producing  the  precise  effect  (the  foam  on  a  horse's 
mouth),  which  he  had  been  long  and  vainly  labouring 
for ;  and  there  is  a  similar  story  told  of  Haydn,  the 
musical  composer,  when  required  to  imitate  a  storm 
at  sea.     '  He  kept  trying  all  sorts  of  passages,  ran  up 

*  *  Staatengescliichte,'  vol.  vii.  This  question,  as  •well  as  that  of  the 
first  arrival  of  the  news  of  the  victory  in  London,  are  fully  discussed  in 
notes  to  'JJiaries  of  a  Lady  of  equality,'  sec.  ed.,  pp.  107,  2U1. 


THE    TEARLS   AND    MOCK    PE^VRLS    OF    HISTORY.         59 

and  down  the  scale,  and  exhausted  his  ingenuity  in 
heaping  together  chromatic  intervals  and  strange  dis- 
cords. Still  Curtz  (the  author  of  the  libretto)  was  not 
satisfied.  At  last  the  musician,  out  of  all  patience,  ex- 
tended his  hands  to  the  two  extremities  of  the  keys, 
and,  bringing  them  rapidly  together,  exclaimed — "  The 
deuce  take  the  tempest ;  I  can  make  nothing  of  it." 
"  That  is  the  very  thing,"  exclaimed  Curtz,  delighted 
with  the  truth  of  the  representation.'  Neither  Haydn 
nor  Uurtz,  adds  the  author  from  whom  we  quote,  had 
ever  seen  the  sea.^ 

The  touching  incident  ofChantry  working  for  Eogers 
as  a  journeyman  cabinet-maker  at  five  shilhngs  a  day 
was  related  by  himself;  and  a  mould  for  butter  or  jelly 
was  the  work  which  first  attracted  notice  to  the  genius 
of  Canova. 

The  romance  of  the  bar  diminishes  apace  before  the 
severe  eye  of  criticism.  Erskine  went  on  telling  everj^- 
body,  till  he  probably  believed  what  he  was  telling, 
that  his  fiime  and  fortune  were  established  by  his  speech 
for  Captain  Baillie,  made  a  few  days  after  he  had  as- 
sumed the  gown.  '  That  night,'  were  his  words  to 
Eogers,  '  I  went  home  and  saluted  my  wife,  with  sixty- 
five  retaining  fees  in  my  pocket.'  Eetaining  fees  are 
paid  to  the  clerk  at  chambers,  and  the  alleged  numb&r 
is  preposterous.  At  a  subsequent  period  we  find  him 
hurrying  to  his  friend,  Eeynolds,  with  two  bank  notes 
for  500/.  each,  his  fee  in  the  Keppel  case,  and  exclaim- 
ing— '  Voila  the  nonsuit  of  cowbeef.'  Cowbeef  must 
have  been  already  nonsuited  if  the  sixty-five  retaining 
fees,  or  half  of  them,  had  been  paid. 

Equally  untenable  is  the  notion  that  Lord  Mansfield 
dashed  into  practice  by  his  speech  in  Cibber  v.  Sloper, 
in  reference  to  which  he  is  supposed  to  have  said  that 
he  never  knew  the  difference  between  no  professional 
income  and  three  thousand  a  year.     From  the  printed 

^  Ilojjarth'a  *  Musical  History,'  vol.  i.  p.  293. 


60        THE   PE.\KLS   AXD   MOCK   PEARLS   OF   HISTORY. 

reports  of  the  trial  it  is  clear  that  Serjeant  Eyre,  instead 
of  being  seized  with  a  fit  and  so  giving  Murray  his 
opportunity,  made  a  long  speech,  and  that  Murray  was 
the  foiu'th  counsel  in  the  cause.  It  was  tried  in  Dec. 
1738,  the  year  after  the  publication  of  Pope's  couplet — 

'  Blest  as  thou  art  with  all  the  power  of  words, 
So  known,  so  honoured  iu  the  House  of  Lords,' 

rendered  more  memorable  by  Gibber's  parody — 

'  Persuasion  tips  his  tongue  whene'er  he  talks  ; 
And  he  has  chambers  in  the  King's  Bench  Walks.' 

In  these  and  most  other  instances  of  the  kind,  it  has 
been  truly  said,  the  speech  was  a  stepping  stone,  not  the 
key-stone.  Patient  industry  and  honest  self-devotion 
to  the  duties  of  a  profession  are  the  main  elements  of 
success. 

There  is  no  valid  ground  for  disputing  the  '  Anche 
io  sono  pittore '  ('  I  too  am  a  painter ')  of  Correggio  on 
seeing  a  picture  by  Kaphael,  although  it  has  been  given 
to  others  ;  nor  the  '  E  pur  si  muove  '  ('  It  moves  not- 
withstanding ')  of  Galileo,  which  he  muttered  as  he  rose 
from  the  kneeling  posture  iu  which  he  had  been  sen- 
tenced by  the  Inquisition  to  recant  his  theory  of  the 
earth's  motion.  Lord  Brougham,  M.  Biot,  and  other 
admirers  of  this  great  man,  however,  thinking  the  story 
derogatory  to  him,  have  urged  the  want  of  direct  evi- 
dence on  the  point.  It  is  related  of  a  political  writer 
who,  for  some  offence  to  the  House  of  Commons, 
was  reprimanded  kneehng  at  the  bar  by  the  Speaker, 
that,  on  rising,  he  said,  half  aloud,  rubbing  his  knees, 
'  What  a  very  dirty  House  this  is ! ' 

'  I  could  prove  by  a  very  curious  passage  of  Bulwer's, 
says  M.  Fournier,  '  how  Archimedes  could  not  have 
said,  "  Give  me  a  point  d'apjmi,  and  with  a  lever  T  will 
move  the  world."  He  was  too  great  a  mathematician 
for  that.'  "We  are  not  informed  where  tliis  very  curious 
passage  is  to  be  found ;  and  Archimedes,  according  to 


TITE    TEARLS   AXD    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY.        Gl 

Plutarch,  asked  for  a  pliice  to  stand  on,  not  a  fulcrum, 
nor  did  he  specify  tlie  instrument  to  be  employed.^ 

Sir  David  Brewster,  in  his  Life  of  Newton,  says  that 
neither  Pemberton,  nor  Whiston,  who  received  from 
Newton  himself  the  history  of  his  first  ideas  of  gravity, 
records  the  story  of  the  falling  apple.  It  was  men- 
tioned, however,  to  Voltaire  by  Catherine  Barton,  New- 
ton's niece,  and  to  Mr.  Green  by  Mr.  Martin  Folkes, 
the  President  of  the  Eoyal  Society.  '  We  saw  the  apple 
tree  in  1814,  and  brought  away  a  portion  of  one  of  its 
roots.'  ^  The  concluding;  remark  reminds  us  of  Wash- 
ington  Irving's  hero,  who  boasted  of  having  parried  a 
musket  bullet  with  a  small  sword,  in  proof  of  which 
he  exhibited  the  sword  a  little  bent  in  the  hilt.  The 
apple  is  supposed  to  have  fallen  in  1665. 

Sometimes  an  invented  pleasantry  passes  current  for 
fact,  like  the  asparagus  and  ^Point  d'huile '  of  Fontenelle, 
invented  by  Voltaire  as  an  illustration  of  how  Fonte- 
nelle would  have  acted  in  such  a  contingency.^  One 
day,  when  Gibbon  was  paying  his  addresses  to  Made- 
moiselle Curchod  (afterwards  Madame  Necker),  she 
asked  why  he  did  not  go  down  on  his  knees  to  her. 
'  Because  you  would  be  obliged  to  ring  for  your  foot- 
man to  get  me  up  again.'  This  is  the  sole  foundation 
for  the  story  of  his  actually  falling  on  his  knees,  and 
being  unable  to  get  up.  There  is  another  mode  in 
which  a  mystification,  or  a  joke,  may  create  or  per- 
petuate a  serious  error.    Father  Prout  (Mahony)  trans- 

'  '  Archimedes  one  day  asserted  to  King  Hiero,  that,  with  a  given  power, 
he  could  move  any  given  weight  whatever ;  nay,  it  is  said,  from  the  con- 
fidence he  had  in  his  demonstrations,  he  ventured  to  affirm  that  if  there 
was  another  earth  besides  this  we  inhabit,  by  going  into  that,  he  would 
move  this  wherever  he  pleased.' — Langhorne'e  Phttarch, 

*  '  Life  of  Newton,'  vol.  ii.  p.  27,  note. 

'  Fontenelle  is  supposed  to  be  supping  witli  a  friend  who  liked  oil, 
which  Fontenelle  disliked.  It  was  agreed  that  half  the  asparagus  should 
be  dressed  with  oil  and  half  without.  The  friend  falls  down  in  an  apo- 
plectic fit,  and  Fontenello's  first  care  is  to  hurry  to  the  door  and  call  out 
'  Point  (Thtdle  !  ' 


62        THE    PEARLS   AND   MOCK   PEAELS    OF   HISTORY. 

lated  several  of  the  '  Irish  Melodies '  into  Greek  and 
Latin  verse,  and  then  jocularly  insinuated  a  charge  of 
plagiarism  against  the  author.  Moore  was  exceedingly 
annoyed  and  Remarked  to  the  writer,  who  made  light 
of  the  trick  :  '  This  is  all  very  well  for  you  London 
critics ;  but,  let  me  tell  you,  my  rej^utation  for  origi- 
nality has  been  gravely  impeached  in  the  provincial 
newspapers  on  the  strength  of  these  very  imitations.' 
Lauder's  fraud  imposed  on  Johnson,  and  greatly  da- 
maged ]\Iilton  for  a  j^eriod  Dihgent  inquiry  has 
brought  home  to  a  M.  de  Querlon  the  verses  attributed 
to  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  beginning  : — 

*  Adieu,  plaisant  pays  de  France  ! 
Oh,  ma  patrie, 
La  plus  ch^rie, 
Qui  as  uourri  ma  jeune  enfance/  &c, 

Cicero  complained  that  funeral  panegyrics  had  con- 
tributed to  falsify  the  Eoman  annals,  and  Uoges  have 
done  the  same  ill  service  to  the  French.  From  the 
absence  or  incapacity  of  the  devil's  advocate  (avvocato 
del  Diabolo)  at  the  canonisation  of  saints,  the  number 
has  been  so  recklessly  nudtiplied  that  scores  of  them 
may  be  knocked  over  like  ninepins  by  any  duly  quah- 
fied  inquirer  w^ho  cares  to  investigate  their  claims. 
De  Launoy,  the  famous  doctor  of  the  Sorbonne,  applied 
himself  to  the  good  work  with  such  a  will  and  such 
efficiency,  that  he  acquired  the  title  of  Le  Grand 
Denicheur  des  Saints.  Bonaventura  d'Argonne  said 
of  him  :  '  He  was  an  object  of  dread  to  heaven  and  to 
earth.  He  has  dethroned  more  saints  fnmi  paradise 
than  ten  Popes  have  canonised.  Everything  in  the 
martyrology  stirred  his  bile.  .  .  .  The  curate  of  St. 
Eustache  of  Paris  said  :  "  When  I  meet  the  Doctor  de 
Launoy,  I  bow  to  him  down  to  the  very  ground,  and 
I  speak  to  him  only  hat  in  hand  and  with  the  deepest 
humility ;  so  afraid  am  I  of  his  depriving  me  of  my 
St.  Eustache,  who  hangs  l)y  a  tliread."  ' 


THE  PEARLS  AND  MOCK  TEARLS  OF  HISTORY.    03 

Party  malice  has  poisoned  the  streams  of  tradition, 
whilst  carelessness,  vanity,  or  the  wanton  love  of  mis- 
chief, has  troubled  them.  Sir  Eobert  Walpole  was 
accused  of  the  worst  cynicism  of  corruption  on  the 
strength  of  his  alleged  maxim  :  '  All  men  have  their 
price.'  What  he  really  said  was  :  '  All  these  men  have 
their  price,'  alluding  to  the  so-called  '  patriots '  of  the 
opposition.  Many  still  believe  Lord  Plunkett  to  have 
denounced  history  as  an  old  almanac,  although  his 
real  expressions  notoriously  were,  that  those  who  read 
history  like  certain  champions  of  intolerance,  treat  it 
as  an  old  almanac.  Torn  from  the  context.  Lord  Lynd- 
hurst's  description  of  the  L'ish  as  '  aliens  in  blood, 
language,  and  religion,'  sounded  illiberal  and  impolitic. 
Taken  with  the  context,  it  was  merely  a  rhetorical  ad- 
mission and  application  of  one  of  O'Connell's  favourite 
topics  for  Kepeal,  when  he  wound  up  every  speech  by 
reminding  his  '  hereditary  bondsmen '  that  they  had 
nothing  in  common  with  their  Saxon  and  Protestant 
oppressors. 

Hero  worship  pushed  to  extravagance,  as  it  recently 
has  been  by  one  popular  writer  (Mr.  Carlyle),  is  quite 
as  mischievous  as  the  spirit  of  depreciation  and  incre- 
dulity. '  The  world  knows  nothing  of  its  greatest 
men  ; '  or,  rather,  the  world  is  required  to  accept  no 
proof  of  greatness  but  success.  Voltaire  illustrates  the 
matter  by  three  examples.  '  You  carry  Caesar  and  his 
fortunes  ;'  but  if  Cassar  had  been  drowned.  '  And  so 
would  I,  were  I  Parmenio  ; '  but  if  Alexander  had  been 
beaten.  '  Take  these  rags,  and  return  them  to  me  in 
the  Palace  of  St.  James ; '  ^  but  Charles  Edward  was 

*  This  is  a  fresh  example  of  Voltaire's  mode  of  dealing  with  facts.  *  His 
(the  Pretender's)  shoes  being  very  bad,  Kingsbiirgh  provided  him  with 
a  new  pair,  and  taking  up  the  old  ones  said,  "  I  will  faitli fully  keep  them 
till  you  are  safely  settled  at  St.  James's.  I  will  then  introduce  myself 
by  shaking  them  at  you,  to  put  you  in  mind  of  your  night's  entertainment 
and  protection  under  my  roof."  He  smiled,  and  said,  "  Be  as  good  as 
your  word." ' — Account  of  the  Escape  of  the  Youny  Pretender,  first  pub- 
lished in  Bosw ell's  '  Johnson.' 


64        THE    TEARLS    AND    ]^rOCK    PEARLS   OF    HISTORY. 

beaten.  Nelson's  early  boast,  that  some  time  or  other 
he  wonld  have  a  gazette  to  himself,  would  be  remem- 
bered (if  remembered  at  all)  as  a  mere  display  of 
youthful  vanity,  if  he  had  been  killed  at  the  commence- 
ment of  his  career ;  and  to  all  outward  seeming,  the 
ebullition  of  conceit  is  rarely  distinguishable  from  the 
prompting  of  genius  or  the  self-assertion  of  desert.  In 
strange  contrast  to  Nelson,  Wellington  had  so  little  of 
either  quality,  that,  when  a  captain,  he  applied  to  the 
Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland  (Lord  Camden)  for  an  Irish 
Commissionership  of  Customs,  with  the  view  of  retiring 
from  the  army.  Lord  Eldon,  when  he  married,  seri- 
ously thought  of  giving  up  the  bar  to  take  orders  and 
retire  upon  a  curacy. 

Henri  Heine  gave  a  new  and  ingenious  turn  to  the 
apothegm,  '  no  man  is  a  hero  to  his  valet  de  chambre,' 
by  the  remark  that,  no  man  is  less  a  hero  because  his 
valet  de  chambre  is  only  a  valet  de  chambre.  But 
almost  all  heroes  and  men  of  genius  suffer  more  or  less 
whenever  they  are  brought  down  from  their  pedestals, 
and  compelled  to  mingle  with  the  crowd.  '  In  the 
common  occurrences  of  life,'  writes  Wolfe,  '  I  own  I 
am  not  seen  to  advantac^e.'  All  accounts  ai2:ree  that 
dive's  person  was  imgraceful,  that  his  harsh  features 
were  hardly  redeemed  from  vulgar  ugliness  by  their 
commanding  expression,  and  that  he  was  ridiculously 
fond  of  dress.  In  a  letter  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Orme,  he 
says :  '  Imprimis,  what  you  can  provide  must  be  of  the 
best  and  finest  you  can  get  for  love  or  money :  two 
hundred  shirts — the  wristl)ands  worked  ;  some  of  the 
ruffles  worked  with  a  border  either  in  squares  or  points, 
and  the  rest  plain ;  stocks,  neckcloths,  and  handker- 
chiefs in  proportion.' 

Montaigne  contends  that,  in  treating  of  manners  and 
motives,  fabulous  incidents,  provided  they  be  possible, 
serve  the  purpose  as  well  as  true.  They  may,  if  they 
are  only  used  as  illustrations  ;  but  to  argue  from  them 


THE    PEARLS   AND    MOCK   PEARLS   OF   HISTORY.       65 

as  from  proofs,  is  to  repudiate  the  inductive  pliilosophy, 
and  resort  to  the  vvonst  sort  of  a  priori  reasoning. 
Not  long  since  an  eminent  naturalist  surprised  the 
public  by  a  theory  of  canine  instinct,  which  placed  it 
very  nearly  on  a  footing  with  the  liinnan  understand- 
ing. This  theoiy  turned  out  to  be  mainly  based  uj)on 
anecdotes  of  dogs,  which  some  lads  in  one  of  the  pub- 
lic offices  had  com[)Osed  and  forwarded  to  him,  com- 
monly as  coming  from  country  clergymen.  Where  is 
the  difference  in  soundness  between  theories  of  animal 
nature  based  on  such  materials,  and  theories  of  human 
nature  deduced  from  fictitious  incidents  or,  like  some 
of  Montesquieu's  on  government,  from  travellers'  stories 
about  Bantam  or  Japan  ?  ^ 

It  may  naturally  be  asked  whether  we  have  any  new 
test  of  heroism  or  criterion  of  authenticity  to  propose  ? 
By  what  process  is  the  gold  to  be  separated  from  the 
di'oss .?  How  are  the  genuine  pearls  to  be  infallibly 
distinguished  from  the  mock  pearls  ?  Is  there  no  spear 
of  Ithuriel  to  compel  impostures  or  impostors  to  resume 
their  natm-al  proportions  by  a  touch  ?  Or,  if  Hotspur 
thought  it  an  easy  leap  to  '  pluck  bright  Honour  from 
the  pale-fac'd  moon,'  can  it  be  so  very  difficult  to  drag 
naked  Truth  from  the  bottom  of  her  well  ?  • 

Archbishop  Whately,  on  being  asked  to  frame 
some  canons  for  determining  what  evidence  is  to  be 
received,  declared  it  to  be  impossible,  and  added,  that 
'  the  full  and  complete  accomplishment  of  such  an 
object  would  confer  on  man  the  unattainable  attribute 
of  infallibility. '  ^     His  celebrated  pamphlet  will  afford 

^  *  He  said,  "  The  value  of  every  story  depends  on  its  being  true.  A 
story  is  a  picture  of  an  individual,  or  of  human  nature  in  general :  if  it  be 
false,  it  is  a  picture  of  nothing."' — Boswell's  '  Life  of  Johnson.' 

^  'Plistoric  Doubts  relative  to  Napoleon  Buonaparte.'  Seventeenth 
edition.  It  is  surprising  that  the  author,  or  anyone  else,  could  per- 
sistently mistake  this  over-estimated  pamphlet  for  what  it  professed 
to  be — an  answer  to  ITiime's  chapter  '  On  Miracles  ;  '  or  ventnr.'  to  con- 
tend that  (faith  apart)  a  logical  mind  which  accepted  the  career  of 
Napoleon  as  historically  trXie,  was  ex  vi  termini  equally  bound  to  accept 
VOL.   1.  F 


6G    THE  TEARLS  AXD  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY. 

little  aid  in  the  solution  of  the  problem  ;  for  the  exist- 
ence of  Xapoleon  Buonaparte  was  never  denied  in  any 
quarter,  and  is  affirmed  by  the  complete  concurrence 
of  contemporary  testimony.  This  cannot  be  predicated 
of  any  events  or  current  of  events  with  which  he 
attempts  to  establish  a  parallel ;  and  it  is  little  to  the 
point  to  urge  that  many  of  the  exploits  attributed  to 
Napoleon  are  as  extraordinary  as  any  contested  occur- 
rences in  history,  sacred  or  profiine.  They  are  not 
what  is  commonly  meant  by  impossible  or  contrary 
to  the  known  laws  of  nature,  which  is  what  sceptics 
object  to  miracles. 

His  Grace  must  also  admit  that  the  invention  of 
printing,  with  modern  facilities  of  communication,  have 
worked  an  entire  change  in  the  quality  and  amount  of 
evidence  which  may  be  rationally  accepted  as  the 
foundation  of  belief.  A  statement  published  to  the 
whole  civilised  world,  and  remaining  unchallenged, 
stands  on  a  widely  different  footing  from  a  statement 
set  down  by  a  monk  in  a  chronicle,  of  which  nothing 
was  heard  or  known  beyond  the  precincts  of  his  con- 
vent until  after  the  lapse  of  centuries.  And  what  were 
his  means  of  information  when  he  wrote  ?  Probably 
some  vague  rumour  or  floating  gossip  carried  from 
place  to  place  by  pedlars  and  pilgrims.  There  is  a 
game  called  Eussian  Scandal,  which  is  ])layed  in  this 
fashion  : — A.  tells  B.  a  brief  narrative,  which  B,  is  to 
repeat  to  C,  and  C.  to  D.,  and  so  on.  No  one  is  to 
liear  it  told  more  than  once,  and  each  is  to  aim  at 
scrupulous  accuracy  in  the  repetition.  By  the  time 
the  narrative    has   been    transmitted   from  mouth   to 

the  whole  of  the  scriptural  miracles:  including  the  staying  of  the 
8un  and  moon  by  Jo.shua,  tlie  conversation  of  Balaam  with  his  ass, 
and  tilt;  tran8inii,'ration  of  l]ie  legion  of  devils  from  two  maniacs  accord- 
ing to  St.  Miitthew,  or  one  according  to  St.  INIark  and  St.  Luke,  into 
a  herd  of  swine  computed  at  two  thuusaiid  by  St.  Mark. 

Tlie  various  known  modes  of  testing  history  are  enumerated  and  dis- 
cussed by  Sir  George  C.  Lewis,  in  '  A  Treatise  on  the  Methods  of 
Obsi.Mvation  and  Reasoning  in  Politics."    In  Two  Volumes.  1842.    Chap  7. 


THE  PEAKLS  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  HISTORY.    G7 

mouth  six  or  seven  times,  it  has  commonly  undergone 
H  complete  transformation.  The  ordinary  result  of  the 
experiment  will  afford  an  apt  illustration  of  the  value 
of  oral  testimony  in  times  when  the  marvellous  had 
an  especial  attraction  for  all  classes. 

'  The  flying:  riiniours  gatlier'd  as  they  rolled  ; 
Scarce  any  tale  was  sooner  heard  than  told, 
And  all  who  told  it  added  something  new, 
And  all  who  heard  it  made  enlargements  too; 
In  every  ear  it  spreads,  on  every  tongue  it  grew.' 

But  we  must  be  on  our  guard  against  assuming 
that  events  never  took  place  at  all  because  there  are 
material  differences  between  the  best  accredited  ac- 
counts of  them.  Lord  Clarendon  says,  that  the  Eoyal 
Standard  was  erected  at  Nottingham  on  the  25th  of 
August,  '  about  six  of  the  o'clock  of  the  evening  of  a 
very  stormy  and  tempestuous  day.'  Other  contem- 
porary writers  name  the  22nd  as  the  date  of  this 
memoi'able  event.  An  equal  amount  of  discrepancy 
will  appear  on  comparing  the  accounts  given  by  Cla- 
rendon, Burnet,  Echard,  and  Wodrow  of  the  condemna- 
tion and  execution  of  Argyll.  On  what  day,  at  what 
time  of  the  day,  and  by  whom,  the  mtelligence  of 
Napoleon's  escape  from  Elba  was  first  communicated^ 
to  the  members  of  the  Vienna  Congress,  are  doubtful 
questions  to  this  hour. 

The  account,  given  or  confirmed  by  Prince  Metter- 
nich  in  a  letter  to  Varnhagen  von  Ense,  is,  that  the 
first  intelligence  was  contained  in  a  desjiatch  from  the 
Austrian  Consul  at  Genoa,  which  he  (the  prince)  re- 
ceived at  six  in  the  morning  of  the  7th  March,  but  did 
not  open  till  nearly  eight.  After  personally  communi- 
cating it  to  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  the  Emperor  of 
Eussia,  and  the  King  of  Prussia,  he  requested  the  at- 
tendance of  the  Ministers  Plenipotentiary  who,  he  says, 
were  ignorant  of  what  had  happened  till  he  told  them. 

Villemain  ('  Souvenirs  contemporains ')  states,  on  the 


68    TUE    PEARLS  AXD  MOCK  TEARLS  OF  HISTORY. 

authority  of  the  Comte  cle  Narbonne  (then  a  member 
of  the  French  embassy  at  Vienna),  tliat  the  news  arrived 
by  a  message  from  Sardinia  on  the  evening  of  the  5th 
March,  during  the  representation  of  some  tableaux 
vivans  at  the  palace,  at  whicli  the  Comte  was  present. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  ('  Life  of  Napoleon  ')  says,  that  the. 
announcement  was  made  to  the  Congress  on  the  11th, 
by  Talleyrand,  and  that  general  laughter  was  the  first 
emotion  that  it  caused.  In  '  Recollections  by  Eogers  ' 
(p.  208),  we  are  told  that  the  Duke  said  he  had 
received  the  first  intelligence  from  Lord  Burgherst 
(afterwards  Earl  of  Westmoreland)  then  minister  at 
Florence  ;  that  the  instant  it  came  he  communicated 
it  to  the  members  of  the  Congress,  and  that  they  all 
laughed — the  Emperor  of  Eussia  most  of  all !  Sir 
William  Ei'le,  who  dined  and  slept  at  Strathfieldsaye 
when  going  the  Western  Circuit  as  judge,  called  the 
Duke's  attention  to  this  statement,  and  asked  if  he 
remembered  tlie  laugh.  The  reply,  of  which  Sir 
William  Erie  has  favoured  the  writer  with  a  note,  ran 
thus  : — 

' "  Laugh !  No :  we  did  not  laugh.  We  said,  '  where 
will  he  go.'  And  Talleyrand  said  :  '  I  can't  say  where  he 
will  go  ;  but  I'll  undertake  to  say  where  he'll  not  go,  and 
that  is  to  France.'  Next  day,  when  we  met,  the  news  had 
come  that  he  had  gone  to  France,  and  we  laughed  at  Talley- 
rand. Tliat's  the  only  laugh  I  recollect."  Then  the  Duke 
turned  to  another  subject.' ' 

According  to  another  version,  accredited  in  the 
diplomatic  world,  Metternich  is  supposed  to  have  said  : 
'  Quel  evenement !  '  and  Talleyrand  to  have  answered  : 
^  No7i,  ce  n'est  quCune  nouvelle!  Talleyrand's  reputed 
sagacity  must  have  deserted  him. 

Again,  the  strangeness,  or  even  absurdity,  of  an 
article  of  i)opular  faith,  is  no  ground  for  contemp- 
tuously rejecting  it.     '  What  need  you  study  for  new 

'  Ediuhnnjli  liivivw  for  July,  18G0.     Art.  ix.  by  tbo  same  writer. 


THE  PEARLS  AND  MOCK  PEARLS  OF  lUSTuRY.    G9 

subjects  ? '  says  the  citizen  to  tlie  8])oaker  of  tlie 
prologue  ill  lieauinoiit  and  Fletclier's  '  Knight  of  the 
Burning  Pestle.'  '  Wliy  could  you  not  be  contented, 
as  well  as  others,  with  the  Legend  of  Whittington,  or 
the  Story  of  Queen  Eleanor,  or  with  the  rearing  of 
London  Bridge  upon  Woolsacks  ?  '  Why  not  indeed, 
when  a  learned  antiquaiy,  besides  putting  in  a  good 
word  for  Eleanor  and  the  woolsacks,  maintains,  plau- 
sibly and  pleasantly,  the  authenticity  of  the  legend  of 
Whittington  and  most  especially  the  part  relating  to 
the  cat  ?  ^ 

Amongst  the  least  defensible  of  Mr.  Buckle's  para- 
doxes is  his  argument,  that  histori(.'al  evidence  has  been 
impaired  by  writing  and  printing,  and  that  unaided 
tradition  is  the  safest  channel  for  truth.  He  deduces 
this  startling  conclusion  from  equally  strange  premises  ; 
1,  the  degradation  of  *the  bards  or  minstrels,  the  pro- 
fessional guardians  and  repositories  of  legendary  lore, 
by  depriving  them  of  their  occupation  ;  2,  the  permanent 
form  given  to  floating  error  when  embalmed  in  a  book. 
But  this  is  tantamount  to  assuming  that  a  story  is 
cleared  of  falsehood  by  being  handed  down  orally 
from  age  to  age,  as  the  purification  of  Thames  water 
is  promoted  by  length  of  pipe  ;  and  Scott  states,  that< 
the  degradation  of  the  bards  had  begun  whilst  they 
were  still  in  high  request.  This  is  his  justification  for 
making  the  bard  of  Lorn  falsify  the  adventure  of  the 
Brooch  of  Lorn  to  glorify  his  master ;  thereby  incurring 
the  dimiific'd  rebuke  of  Bruce  : — 

"Well  ha.<t  tliou  framed,  old  man,  thy  strains 
To  praise  the  hand  that  pays  thy  pains  ; 
Yet  something  might  th}'  song  have  told 
Of  Lorn's  three  vassals,  true  and  bold, 
Who  rent  their  lord  from  Bruce's  hold. 


^  '  The  Model  Merchant  of  the  Middle  Ages,  exemplified  in  the  Story 
of  Whiltinutiin  and  his  Cat :  being  an  Attempt  to  rescue  tliat  iiitere.-ting 
Story  from  the  Region  of  Fable,  and  to  place  it  in  its  proper  position  in 
the  legitimate  History  of  the  Countrj'.'  By  the  liev.  Samuel  Lysons, 
M.A.,  Kector  of  llodmarton,  Gloucestershire,  &c.  &c.  Lou  Ion  ami 
Gloucester,  1800. 


70        THE   PEARLS   AXD    MOCK    PEARLS    OF    HISTORY. 

I've  heard  tlie  Bruce's  cloak  and  clasp 
\Yi\a  clench 'd  within  their  dying  grasp. 

Enough  of  this,  and  minstrel,  hold, 
As  minstrel-hire  this  chain  of  gold, 
For  future  lays  a  fair  excuse 
To  speak  more  nobly  of  the  Bruce. 

One  of  Biibb  Dodclington's  maxims  was  :  '  When 
you  have  made  a  good  impression,  go  away.'  To  all 
who  dishke  the  illusion-destroying  process,  we  should 
say, '  When  you  have  got  a  good  impression,  go  away  ; 
but  keep  it  for  your  own  private  delectation,  and  beware 
of  generalising  on  it  till  it  has  undergone  the  ordeal  of 
inquiry.'  After  all,  the  greatest  sacrifice  imposed  upon 
us  by  critics  and  commentators  like  M.  Fournier,  is  the 
occasional  abandonment  of  an  agreeable  error,  amply 
compensated  by  the  habits  of  accuracy  and  impar- 
tiality which  they  enforce,  without  which  there  can 
be  neither  hope  of  improvement  for  the  future  nor 
confidence  in  the  past.  They  have  rather  enhanced 
than  depreciated  the  common  stock  of  recorded  or 
traditional  wit,  genius,  vhtuc,  and  heroism  ;  and  if 
the  course  of  treatment  to  which  the  reader  is  sub- 
jected sometimes  resembles  the  sudden  application 
of  a  shower-bath,  his  moral  and  intellectual  system  is 
similarly  braced  and  invigorated  by  the  shock. 


71 


FREDERIC   VOX   GENTZ. 

From  the  Edinburgh  Review  for  Jaxuaky,  ISG-*^. 

Aus  dem  Nachlass  Varnhagen  ton  Ense.  Tagehucher  von 
Friedrich  von  CrENTZ.  Mit  elnevi  Vor-  und  Nach- 
^Vorte  von  \ wvsiixGW^  von  Ense.     Leipzig:   1861. 

We  invite  attention  to  tlie  life  and  writings  of  Gentz,  for 
reasons  widely  different  from  those  which  commonly 
induce  the  analysis  of  a  character  or  the  review  of 
a  biography.  He  is  not  a  specimen  of  a  period,  an 
illustration  of  a  calling,  or  an  example  of  a  class.  He 
is  in  no  sense  a  representative  man.  He  stands  alone 
in  his  peculiar  and  personal  description  of  celebrity ; 
presenting,  we  believe,  tlie  solitcuy  instance  of  a  politi- 
cal aspirant  achieving,  along  with  endming  reputation, 
a  position  of  social  equality  with  statesmen  and  nobles, 
in  an  aristocratic  country  and  under  a  despotic  govern- 
ment, by  his  pen.  He  starts  with  no  advantage  erf 
birtli  or  fortune,  and  he  never  acquires  wealth  :  he 
produces  no  work  of  creative  genius :  he  does 
not  intrigue,  cringe,  or  flatter :  he  does  not  get 
on  by  patronage :  he  is  profuse  witliout  being  venal : 
he  is  always  on  the  side  which  he  thinks  right :  yet  we 
find  him,  almost  from  the  commencement  to  the  very 
close  of  his  career,  tlie  companion  and  counsellor  of 
the  greatest  and  most  distinguislied  of  liis  contempo- 
raries, the  petted  meraljer  of  tlie  most  bi-ilHant  and 
exclusive  of  European  circles.  In  early  manhood  he, 
had  earned  the  hatred  of  Napoleon  and  the  friendship 
of  Pitt.  In  declining  age  he  was  at  once  the  trusted 
friend  of  Metternich,  the  correspondent  of  Mackintosh, 


72  FREDERIC    VOX    GENTZ. 

tlie  Platonic  adorer  of  Eahel,  and  the  favoured  lover 
of  Fanny  Elsler.  How  often  might  he  have  ex- 
claimed— 

'  One  glorious  hour  of  crowded  life 
Is  worth  an  age  without  a  name.' 

Excitements  and  enjoyments  of  all  sorts — from  flat- 
tered vanity  and  gratified  love  to  the  proud  conscious- 
ness of  European  fame  and  influence — follow  each  other 
in  rapid  succession,  or  come  together  thronging  with 
intoxicating  intensity.  Beyle  says  of  himself  that  he 
required  three  or  four  cubic  feet  of  new  ideas  per  day, 
as  a  steamboat  requires  coal.  Wliat  could  have  been 
a  reasonable  allow^ance  for  Gentz  ?  How  did  he  wdn 
his  w^ay  to  that  giddy  pinnacle,  which  was  to  him — 
whatever  it  may  seem  to  cooler  heads  or  less  susceptible 
temperaments — the  quintessence  of  enjoyment,  the 
crowning;  test  and  token  of  success  ?  How  or  wdiere 
did  he  find  health,  strength,  time,  mind,  or  money  for 
the  w^ear  and  tear  of  the  contest,  the  lavish  pecuniary 
expenditure  and  the  reckless  intellectual  waste  of  the 
strife  ? 

Speaking  of  the  position  won  by  Sheridan,  Moore 
asserts  that  '  by  him  who  has  not  been  born  among 
the  great,  this  can  only  be  achieved  by  politics.  In 
that  arena,  which  they  look  upon  as  their  own,  the 
legislature  of  the  land,  let  a  man  of  genius  but  assert 
his  supremacy, — at  once  all  barriei's  of  reserve  and 
pride  give  way,  and  he  takes  by  right  a  station  at 
their  side  whicli  a  Shakespeare  or  a  Newton  would 
but  have  enjoyed  by  courtesy.'  There  was  no  legisla- 
ture of  the  land  open  to  Gentz ;  and,  although  he  has 
often  been  called  tlie  Burke  of  Germany,  no  fair 
])ara1Iel  can  be  drawn  bc^tween  him  and  Burke  or 
Sheridan  in  England,  or  Thiers  and  Guizot  in  France. 
With  rare  excej^tioii,  ]:)olitical  writers,  as  sucli,  have 
enjoyed  no  social  siqx^riority  over  tlie  miscellaneous 
throng  of  authors  in   any  country  :    not    unfrefjuently 


FREDERIC    VON    GENTZ.  73 

the  precise  contrary  has  been  their  lot;  and  \\]\rn 
Paul  Louis  Courier  was  apostrophised  as  Vil  PamphU- 
taire,  the  phrase,  he  tells  us,  brought  down  an  accunni- 
lated  mass  of  prejudice  upon  liis  head.  The  Augustan 
age  of  Anne  presents,  we  believe,  tlie  only  period  of 
party  warfare  or  civil  dissension  during  which  tlie 
writer  or  journalist  ranked  with  the  statesman ;  and 
the  terms  on  which  S^\dft  hved  with  Oxford  and 
Bolingbroke  come  nearest  to  those  on  which  Gentz 
associated  with  the  leading  members  of  European 
congresses. 

'  The  assistance  of  Swift,'  says  Scott,  '  was  essential 
to  the  existence  of  the  ministry,  and  ample  confidence 
was  the  only  terms  on  which  it  could  be  procured.' 
The  assistance  of  Gentz  was  essential  to  the  cause  of 
European  independence  from  1797  to  1815,  and  emi- 
nently useful  to  the  cause  of  enlightened  Conservatism 
till  his  death.  It  was  he  who  clothed  in  the  loftiest 
and  most  impressive  language  the  views  and  principles 
of  those  who,  with  varying  fortunes,  perseveringly 
bore  up  against  the  sustained  and  oft-renewed  efforts 
of  the  French  despot  to  domineer  over  and  humiliate 
their  common  fatherland.  It  was  he  who  suggested 
the  most  effective  means  of  making  head  against  the 
foe :  who  infused  fresh  spirit  and  energy  into  their 
counsels  when  tliey  flagged.  We  shall  see  that  he  was 
something  widely  different  from  the  ready  penman, 
clerk,  or  secretary,  who  finds  npt  words  for  the  sense 
(or  nonsense)  that  may  be  dictated  to  him.  Being 
generally  present  at  the  prehminary  discussions,  he 
was  seldom  the  exponent  of  a  pohcy  which  he  had  not 
framed  or  modified,  and  never  of  a  policy  whicli  he 
disapproved.  He  is  therefore  justlj'-  and  hajipily 
termed  by  Varnhagen,  '  dieser  Schriftsteller  Staats- 
mann,'  (this  writer-statesman). 

Perfect  equality,  if  not  superiority,  is  necessarily 
conceded  to  a  master-mind  employed  in  this  fashion ; 


<  4  FREDERIC    TOX    GENTZ. 

and  Gentz  was  one  of  those  genial  natures  that  irre- 
sistibly attract  confidence.  He  was  empliatically  what 
the  Neapolitans  call  simpatico ;  his  tone  and  manner 
were  electrical  ;  and  whenever  he  was  brought  into 
contact  M'ith  men  or  women  of  genius  and  sensibility, 
a  cordial  intimacy  was  the  result.  Few  things  are 
more  striking  in  the  '  Remains '  of  Mrs.  Trench  than 
the  easy  matter-of-course  way  in  which,  a  day  or  two 
after  her  arrival  at  a  capital  or  Residentz,  she  becomes 
a  courted  inmate  of  the  best  houses.  Precisely  the 
same  problem  is  suggested  by  Gentz's  diaries  ;  and  the 
solution  of  it  may  be  found  in  her  recorded  impres- 
sions when  they  met  at  Berlin  in  1800,  and  she  finds 
Mm  '  one  of  those  who  seem  to  impart  a  portion  of 
their  own  endowments ;  for  you  feel  your  mind  ele- 
vated whilst  in  his  society.'  There  is  a  freemasonry 
between  highly  endowed  and  highly  refined  persons 
which  sweeps  away  at  once  all  thouglit  of  social  in- 
equality ;  and  if  no  inferiority  is  felt  on  one  side,  no 
superiority  will  be  even  momentarily  assumed  upon 
the  other,  whatever  the  domain  of  intellect  in  which 
the  purely  personal  elevation  may  have  been  won. 
The  phenomenon  is  not  peculiar  to  the  pt)litical 
horizon. 

'  Mr.  Harley,'  says  Swift,  in  the  '  Journal  to  Stella,' 
'  desired  me  to  dine  with  him  again  to-day ;  but  I  re- 
fused liim,  for  I  fell  out  with  him  yesterday,  and  will 
not  see  him  again  till  he  makes  me  amends.'  The 
cause  of  quarrel  was  the  offer  of  a  bankftote  of  fifty 
])ounds,  which  Swift,  who  was  looking  to  high  Church 
])referment  for  his  reward,  indignantly  refused. 
Gentz,  who  could  l)e  adequately  rewarded  in  no  other 
maimer  and  was  never  in  circumstances  to  work  gra- 
tuitously, affected  no  delicacy  in  this  respect.  He 
took  money,  right  and  left,  from  every  one  who  re- 
sorted to  his  pen,  or  wlio  benefited,  or  ho]:)ed  to  bene- 
fit,  by  his  services.     We   sluill    find   liim  repeatedly 


FREDERIC   VOX    GEXTZ.  75 

receiving  large  sums  or  valuable  presents  in  various 
shapes,  from  England,  Russia,  and  France.  His  private 
friends,  also,  were  frequently  laid  under  contribution, 
and  Varnhagen  introduces  the  member  of  a  wealthy 
banking  firm  mvinj^  vent  to  an  illustrative  lament  over 
his  grave : — '  That  was  a  friend,  indeed  !  I  shall 
never  have  such  another.  He  has  cost  me  large  sums 
— it  would  not  be  believed  how  large — for  he  had 
only  to  write  upon  a  bill  what  he  washed  to  have,  and 
he  had  it  instantly  ;  but  since  he  is  no  longer  there,  I 
see,  for  the  first  time,  what  we  have  lost,  and  I  would 
give  three  times  as  much  to  call  him  back  to  life.' 

Alderman  Beckford  used  to  say  that  he  lost  enor- 
mously by  speculating  on  the  information  he  received 
from  Lord  Chatham  ;  and  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
this  accommodating  banker  was  remunerated  by 
intelhgence.  It  is  admitted  on  all  hands  that 
Gentz,  although  especially  conversant  with  finan- 
cial subjects,  never  gambled  in  the  funds,  and  this 
is  one  main  topic  relied  on  by  his  apologists. 
They,  moreover,  assert  with  truth  that  he  never, 
either  in  writing  or  speaking,  belied  his  honest 
convictions ;  and  they  plausibly  contend  that  he 
received  in  the  long  run  less  than  many  public  men  (^f 
far  inferior  desert  were  paid  in  salaries.  They  might 
point  to  Burke's  pension,  or  to  the  income  settled  on 
Fox  by  his  dissentient  followers,  or  to  the  12,000/. 
raised  by  private  subscription  for  Pitt.  But  these 
great  men  would,  one  and  all,  stand  better  with 
posterity  if  they  had  never  been  subjected  to  pecuniary 
obligations ;  and  there  is  an  obvious  difference  between 
the  acceptance  of  a  pension  or  a  loan  and  an  habitual 
reliance  on  precarious  and  irregular  supplies.  '  Let  all 
your  views  in  life,'  writes  Junius  to  Woodfall,  '  be 
directed  to  a  sohd,  however  moderate,  independence  : 
'without  it  no  man  can  be  happy,  nor  even  honest.' 
Gentz  remained  honest,   as  this  world  goes ;    but  his 


76  FREDERIC    VOX    GENTZ. 

peace  of  mind  was  constantly  distiii'becl  by  his 
embarrassments,  and,  unfounded  as  it  was,  he  must 
have  writhed  under  the  taunt  wliich  Kapoleon  hurled 
at  him  in  one  of  his  vengeful  bulletins,  as  a  mercenary 
scribe.  There  have  been  men  of  genius  in  all  ages 
who  could  never  be  taught  the  true  value  and  proper 
use  of  money  ;  taking  it  carelessly  Avith  one  hand,  and 
flinging  it  away  as  carelessly  with  the  other.  They 
were  not  more  ready  to  borrow  than  to  gi\e  or  lend  : 
if  they  expected  other  people's  purses  to  be  open,  their 
own  were  open  in  retiuii — only,  unhappily,  there  was 
co^imonly  nothing  in  them.  Fielding,  Savage, Sheridan, 
Coleridge,  Godwin,  and  Leigh  Hunt  are  well- 
known  examples  of  this  peculiarity.  Gentz  was  another  ; 
and  the  best  that  can  be  said  for  him  is  that,  not 
caring  for  money  for  its  own  sake,  he  lay  under  little 
temptation  to  procure  it  by  unworthy  compliances, 
whilst  his  unconsciousness  of  degradation  saved  him 
from  one  of  the  worst  effects  of  peciuiiary  obligation, 
the  forfeiture  of  self-respect. 

There  is  no  regular  Life  of  Gentz,  nor  any  complete 
edition  of  his  writings.  A  spirited  biographical  sketch 
has  been  supplied  by  Varnhagen  von  Ense,^  who, 
whilst  fully  appreciating  his  genius  and  making  large 
allowances  for  his  aberrations,  obviously  differed  from 
him  in  tastes  and  habits,  as  well  as  in  personal  and 
ixthtical  predilections,  aud  never  lived  much  or 
intimately  with  him  at  any  time.  He  has  also  been 
made  the  subject  of  many  animated  attacks,  and  as 
animated  defences  or  apologies.  To  him,  indeed,  was 
first  applied  the  description  which,  witli  the  change  of 
nation,  was  adopted  by  O'Coiiiicll  for  liimsclf — tliat  he 
was  the  Ix'st  abused  man  in  Germany.  Two  editions 
of  liis  works  have  been  connneiiced  and  left  incomplete  ; 
and  a  lliird  was  planned  under  auspices  which  bade 
fair  to  render  it  an   ciKliiriiig   nioiumieiit   of  liis   fame 

'  '  Vernii.-chte  Stbrirteii.'     Zwtiter  Tlicil,  1843. 


FREDERIC   VOX    GEXTZ.  77 

The  Baron  von  Prokesch,  the  present  (1863) 
representative  of  Austria  at  the  Porte,  was  from  early 
youth  the  constant  companion  and  enthusiastic  admirer 
of  Gentz,  working  witli  him,  reading  with  liim, 
attending  pohtical  consultations  with  him,  and  sharing 
equally  the  amusements  of  his  lighter  hours  and  the 
grave  cares  of  statesmanship.  The  Baron  is  a  dis- 
tinguished traveller  and  author,  as  well  as  a  highly- 
accomplished  diplomatist,  and  had  every  imaginable 
qualification  for  what  would  have  been  to  him  a  labour 
of  love.  He  was  encourasiied  to  undertake  the  editor- 
ship  by  Prince  Metternich,  and  was  actually  engaged 
in  the  requisite  preparations,  when  the  Austrian  Police, 
or  Home  Office,  interfered,  and  the  design  was 
perforce  abandoned. 

The  materials,  had  he  been  permitted  the  free  use 
of  them,  would  have  been  abundant,  and  of  the 
richest  quality.  On  Gentz's  death,  in  pursuance  of 
a  well-known  German  practice,  the  Austrian  Govern- 
ment took  possession  of  the  whole  of  his  papers, 
public  and  private,  which  lay  ^dthin  reach  of  the 
Officials.  Amongst  these  were  many  of  the  day-books, 
or  diaries,  which  he  had  kept  with  scrupulous 
minuteness  from  the  time  when  he  began  to  rise 
into  celebrity.  Some  are  now  in  the  possession  of  hit 
friend,  who  was  so  good  as  to  allow  us  a  cursory 
inspection  of  them  ;  and  the  '•  Tagebiicher,'  published 
by  Varnhagen  von  Ense  in  1861,  is  an  abridgment, 
by  Gentz  himself,  of  his  diaries  from  April,  1800,  to 
the  end  of  1814,  and  for  a  few  detached  weeks  of 
1819.  He  burnt  the  original  note-books  for  these 
years,  after  extracting  what  he  thought  worth  pre- 
serving and  saw  no  reason  to  suppress  ;  and  it  was 
his  intention,  had  he  lived,  to  deal  in  the  same  manner 
with  the  rest.  He  was  fortunately  endowed  with  a 
proud  self-consciousness,  and  felt  that  he  could  afibrd 
to  be  frank.     The  result  is,  that  many  of  the  entries 


/«  FREDERIC   YON   GEXTZ. 

pres  ?rved  by  liim  are  confessions  and  self-communings 
rather  than  memoranda  of  events :  he  has  left  their 
freshness  unimpaired ;  and,  ahernating  with  hterary, 
pohtical,  and  social  triumphs,  appear  the  frequently- 
recurring  proofs  of  his  weaknesses  and  his  faults, 

Frederic  Gentz  was  born  in  Breslau,  May  2,  17G4. 
Ilis  father  had  a  situation  in  the  Mint ;  his  mother  was 
an  Ancillon.  They  had  four  children,  and  he  was  the 
youngest  of  two  sons.  His  education  began  at  the 
town  school,  and  on  his  father's  removal  to  Berhn,  as 
Mint  Director,  he  was  sent  to  a  Gymnasium  there,  and 
afterwards  to  the  University  of  Frankfort-on-the-Oder. 
With  the  exception  of  a  solitary  success  in  recitation, 
he  showed  no  sign  of  talent,  spirit,  or  capacity.  His 
family  set  him  down  as  a  dimce ;  and  the  good 
qualities  he  was  admitted  to  possess  were  not  of  a 
nature  to  advance  him  in  the  world.  He  was  good- 
natured,  kindhearted,  and  generous  to  excess.  His 
sisters  got  all  they  wanted  from  him  for  the  asking, 
and  so,  it  seems,  did  his  associates ;  for  as  regards 
lending  and  borrowing,  the  boy  was  literally  the  father 
of  the  man.  It  was  not  until  he  attended  Kant's 
lectures  at  Konigsberg,  in  his  twentieth  or  twenty-first 
year,  that  he  displayed  the  least  desire  of  distinction  or 
consciousness  of  power.  Then  a  sudden  change  came 
over  him  :  it  was  like  the  breaking  u[)  of  a  fro.st,  or  tlie 
warming  of  Pygmalion's  statue  into  life.  When  he 
returned  to  Berlin,  in  1785,  it  was  difficult  to  retrace 
the  indolent,  connnonplace  lad  who  had  been  the 
despair  of  his  parents,  in  the  clever,  lively,  accomplished, 
and  aspiring  young  man  who  was  now  their  pride 
and  their  hope.  If  the  first  inspii-atioii,  however,  came 
from  Kant,  the  great  metai)hysician  did  not  exercise 
his  usual  cloud-compelling  influence  over  his  young 
disciple,  whose  clear,  practical  understanding,  once 
unsealed,  grappled  eagerly  with  the  tangible  and  useful 
in    knowledge,    the    reliniiig    and    elevating    in    art. 


FREDERIC    VOX    GENTZ.  70 

Besides  mastering  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics,  lie 
acquired  so  perfect  a  knowledge  of  French  as  to  com- 
pose and  converse  in  it  as  easily  as  in  liis  native  tongue, 
and  a  sufficient  familiarity  with  English  to  enable  him 
to  translate  Burke. 

How  and  at  wlmt  particular  period  he  obtained  his 
wonderful  familiarity  witli  some  English  subjects  whicli 
till  recently  were  imperfectly  understood  in  England, 
especially  our  commercial  system  and  our  finance,  is  a 
puzzle  to  us.  All  we  know  is  that  his  was  one  of 
those  gifted  minds  which  accumulate  treasures  whilst 
they  appear  to  be  picking  up  pebbles  or  trifling  with 
straws,  and  can  devote  night  after  night,  begun  in 
dissipation  or  frivohty,  to  hard  study  or  patient 
investigation.  On  his  arrival  in  Berlin,  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  and  popular  members  of  the  gay  world, 
attracted  by  congeniality  of  tastes  and  pursuits, 
introduced  him  to  the  best  society,  in  wdiic-h  he 
speedily  became  a  favourite  ;  and  before  he  had  well 
tune  to  look  about  him,  he  was  involved  in  a  giddy 
whu'l  of  what  is  conventionally  called  pleasure,  besides 
intrigues  or  love  affairs,  wdiich  are  sad  consumers  of 
time.  The  state  of  his  heart  and  mind  at  this  epoch 
may  be  collected  from  tlie  earliest  of  his  published 
letters  '  To  Elizabeth,'  the  wife  of  Councillor  Graun 
during  the  correspondence,  and  afterwards  of  the  poet 
Stageman.  At  the  date  of  the  first,  February  12, 
1785,  she  was  in  her  nineteenth  year,  separated 
from  her  husband,  very  handsome,  very  clever,  and 
both  ready  and  qualified  to  condole  with  young 
gentlemen  suffering  from  the  prevalent  malady,  which, 
for  want  of  a  fitter  term,  may  be  called  Wertherism. 
Its  principal  symptoms  were  a  morbid  craving  for 
excitement,  and  the  treatment  of  marriage  as  a 
kind  of  legalised  slavery — 

'  Love,  free  as  air,  at  sif^lit  of  Kunian  ties, 
Spreads  its  light  wings  and  in  a  momeut  flies.' 


80  FREDERIC   VON    GEXTZ. 

Marriages  made  in  lieaveu  were  understood  to 
supersede  those  made  on  earth ;  i.e.  if  the  mundane 
did  not  coincide  with  and  confirm  the  spiritual  tie. 

Gentz  gave  the  lady  ample  occasion  for  the  employ- 
ment of  her  powers  of  soothing  ;  for  in  less  than  two 
years  he  makes  her  the  confidant  of  two  passions, 
each  of  which  was  to  last  for  ever,  and  uniformly  ad- 
dresses her  with  a  warmth  whicli  might  lead  unsophis- 
ticated readers  to  suspect  that  she  was  all  along  the 
object  of  a  third  : 

'  No,  my  dear,  my  beloved  friend  !  Friendships,  such  as 
ours  was,  are  not  to  he  reckoned  by  half  years.  How 
willingly  I  dreamed,  in  the  glad  still  hours  of  a  sweet 
enthusiasm,  that  this  life  was  too  short  for  it, — and  now  it 
is  to  be  destroyed  in  six  weeks  ?  Not  so.  A  friend,  such 
as  you  were,  I  shall  never  meet  with  again  in  the  entire 
current  of  my  years,  and  I  am  to  know  you  in  the  same 
world,  and  yet  lost  to  me.  Help  me,  save  me  from  this 
hateful  doubt.' 

Madame  Graun  is  beloved  by  a  gentleman  named 
Le  Noble ;  and  Gentz,  after  urgently  pressing  on  her 
the  moral  duty  of  consulting  her  adorer's  happiness  as 
well  as  her  own,  recommends  the  careful  study  of  '  La 
Nouvelle  Ileloise  '  by  way  of  preparation  for  the  task. 
He  himself,  at  this  time,  was  paying  honourable  court 
to  a  damsel  named  Celestine,  who,  after  entering  into 
an  engagement  with  him,  backed  out ;  wisely  and 
fortunately  enough,  for  it  would  have  been  little  less 
than  a  miracle  for  a  man  with  his  volatility  and  im- 
pressibility to  make  a  good  husband.  The  experiment 
was  soon  afterwards  tried  by  a  lady  who  is  briefly  de- 
scribed by  Varnhagen  as  nee  Gilly,  and  it  turned  out 
as  might  have  been  anticipated.  Fletcher,  Byron's 
favourite  servant,  naively  remarked,  that  every  woman 
could  manage  my  lord,  except  my  lady.  Almost 
every  woman  was  acceptable  to  Gentz,  except  his  wife. 
From  the   domestic    arrangements  for  the  meditated 


FREDERIC   A^OX   GENTZ.  81 

niarriage  witli  Celestine,  we  learn  that,  with  his 
fatlier's  assistance,  he  hoped  to  make  up  an  income  of 
800  dollars.  In  1786  he  was  appointed  private  secre- 
tary to  the  Eoyal  General-Directorium  (whatever  that 
may  be),  and  gave  such  satisiaction  to  his  superiors 
that  he  was  speedily  })romoted  to  the  higher  grade  of 
Kriegsrath  (war-councillor). 

Gentz,  like  Mackintosh  and  many  other  men  of 
mark  who  afterwards  became  firm  opponents  of  revo- 
lutionary opinions,  looked  hopefully  at  first  on  the 
great  events  of  1789.  But  the  excesses  of  democracy, 
and  dread  of  the  mihtary  despotism  to  which  they 
were  obviously  leading,  awoke  him  from  his  brief 
dream  of  human  perfectibility,  and  his  literary  career 
commenced,  in  1793,  with  a  translation  of  Burke's 
famous  'Essay  on  the  French  Eevolution.'  In  1794 
he  published  a  translation,  with  preface  and  remarks, 
of  Mallet  du  Pan's  book  on  the  same  subject ;  and  in 
1795  a  translation,  with  remarks  and  additions,  of  a 
work  in  the  same  spirit  by  Mounier.  On  the  accession 
of  Frederic  William  III.  to  the  throne  of  Prussia,  in 
November,  1797,  Gentz  ventured  on  the  bold  and  (for 
a  Prussian  official)  unprecedented  step  of  addressing 
what  he  termed  a  Sendschreiben  (missive)  to  his  new» 
sovereign  on  his  rights,  duties,  and  opportunities.  It 
is  a  pamphlet  of  thirty-two  pages,  somewhat  in  the 
style  of  Bolingbroke's  '-  Patriot  Iving.'  He  was  a  fre- 
quent contributor,  as  an  avowed  champion  of  reac- 
tion, to  periodicals  ;  and,  amongst  other  articles  of 
note,  wrote  one  which  might  more  properly  be  de- 
nominated an  essay  against  Eobespierre  and  St.  Just. 

In  Jai  -lary,  1795,  he  founded  and  edited  the  Neue 
Deutsche  MonaUclirift  (New  G-rman  Monthly),  which 
lasted  only  four  months  ;  and  in  January,  1799,  in  co- 
operation with  Professor  Ancillon,  and  with  funds 
supplied  by  a  minister,  he  established  the  llistorisches 
Jownal,  which  was  continued  monthly  till  the  end  of 

VOL.    I.  0 


82  FREDERIC   VON   GENTZ. 

1800;  after  wliich  it  appeared  every  three  or  four 
months,  till  its  expiration  in  1802,  His  own  contribu- 
tions were  mostly  of  a  comprehensive  and  sustained 
character,  composed  with  the  view  of  being  subse- 
quently repubhshed  as  books.  One  series  of  articles 
'  On  the  Origin  and  Character  of  the  War  against  the 
French  Revolution,'  was  composed  with  express  reference 
to  Great  Britain  ;  and  before  the  end  of  the  century  he 
had  visited  England,  and  formed  intimate  relations, 
based  on  mutual  respect  and  confidence,  with  (amongst 
many  others)  Mackintosh,  Lord  Grenville,  and  Pitt. 
For  more  than  twenty  years  he  remained  in  constant 
and  confidential  communication  with  the  leading  mem- 
bers of  successive  Enghsh  ministries,  who,  besides  re- 
sorting to  him  for  information  touchiDg  continental 
matters,  made  free  use  of  his  pen  in  drawing  up  papers 
on  English  taxation,  paper-money,  and  finance.  From 
1800  inclusive,  we  are  enabled  to  track  his  progress, 
step  by  step,  in  the  diaries ;  and,  through  the  kindness 
of  Baron  von  Prokesch,  we  have  the  additional  aid  of 
a  note-book,  in  Gentz's  handwriting,  entitled,  '  Liste 
generale  des  Personnes  que  jai  vues  depuis  le  com- 
mencement de  Vannee  1800,'  headed  by  the  folloA\ing 
'  Observations  : ' — 

'  The  commencement  of  the  year  1800,  or  rather  the  end 
of  1799,  is  the  epoch  at  which  the  sphere  of  my  liaisons 
has  rapidly  and  considerably  increased.  I  had  very  inte- 
resting ones  before  this  epoch,  and  I  propose  to  form  a  table 
of  tliem  apart ;  but  it  is  since  1800  that  I  have  properly 
begun  to  figure  on  the  stage  of  the  world,  tliat  I  have  con- 
stantly lived  with  men  of  all  classes,  and  that  society  has 
become  one  of  the  principal  objects  of  my  occupations,  of 
my  studies,  and  of  my  enjoyments.' 

This  hst,  he  explains,  does  not  contain  ephemeral, 
commonplace,  or  insignificant  rencounters  or  acquaint- 
ances :  '  it  is  absolutely  meant  only  to  form  the  base 
and  furnish  the  elements  of  a  table  of  social  relations 


FREDERIC    VON    GENTZ.  83 

aud  social  commerce,  properly  so  called.'  A  list  of 
correspoudeuts  is  added  ;  and  the  degrees  of  intimacy 
are  indicated  by  marks  prefixed  to  the  names — a  cross 
expressing  familiar  acquaintance,  and  au  asterisk  inti- 
macy. Headed  by  the  King  and  Queen,  the  Prince 
of  Wales  and  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  it  includes  all  the 
personages  of  note,  Enghsh  and  foreign,  then  resident  or 
sojourning  in  London. 

The  published  diary  begins  on  the  14th  April,  1800, 
characteristically  enough : — 

'  On  the  14th  of  April  an  agreeable  surprise.  The  Jew- 
Elder  Hirsch  brought  me  fifty  thalers  for  drawing  up  I  know 
not  what  representation.  On  the  28th  of  May,  received 
through  Baron  Briidener,  as  a  present  from  the  Emperor  of 
Kussia,  a  watch  set  with  (small)  brilHants.' 

The  word  (small)  before  brilliants  would  seem  to 
show  that,  in  appreciating  honorary  gifts,  he  acted  on 
the  same  principle  as  Dr.  Parr,  who,  when  consulted 
about  the  design  of  a  gold  ring  destined  for  him,  said 
he  cared  more  for  the  weight  than  the  form. 

The  next  entry  relates  to  the  first  Enghsh  remit- 
tance : 

'  Eeceived  a  written  communication  through  Garlicke 
from  Lord  Grrenville,  together  with  a  donation  of  500^. 
sterhng,  the  first  of  this  kind  !  (The  note  of  admiration  is 
his  own.) 

'  February. — Very  remarkable  that,  on  the  one  side.  Lord 
Carysfort  cliargfd  me  with  the  translation  into  French  of 
the  published  "  English  Notes  against  Prussia,"  and  shortly 
afterwards  Count  Haugwitz  with  the  translation  into  German 
of  the  "  Prussian  Notes  against  England." 

'Towards  the  end  of  ^larcli,  finished  the  book  on  the 
"  Origin  of  the  Revolutionary  War,"  ^  and  formed  the  re- 
solution to  answer  that  of  Hauterive.  This  work  was  under- 
taken in  Schomberg.' 

^  '  Ueber  den  IJrsprung  und  Character  des  Krieges  pegen  die 
I'Vanzbsische  Revolution.  Berlin :  1801.  Eepublished  from  the  Ilis- 
tonsches  Journal. 


8-4  FREDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ. 

The  ^^•o^k  of  Hauterive  was  a  semi-official  attack  on 
England,  and  its  complete  refutation  by  so  masterly 
and  well-informed  a  writer  as  Gentz,  was  a  valuable 
ser\dce  not  merely  to  the  libelled  country,  but  to 
Europe.  It  was  translated  into  English,  with  an  able 
preface,  by  a  gentleman  who  afterwards  became  a 
member  of  the  British  Cabinet.^ 

'  April. — Deep  emotion  at  the  death  of  a  dog.  A  proof 
liow  strongly  everything  helonging  to  domestic  ties,  amidst 
all  dissipation,  affected  me.  News  of  the  death  of  the 
Emperor  Paul.  Impression  which,  first  the  universal  joy 
and  later  the  fearful  publication  of  this  news,  made  on  me.' 

His  mode  of  life  at  this  time,  in  its  wild  recklessness, 
resembles  that  of  Savage,  who  often  spent  in  a  night's 
revelry  the  borrowed  money  which  should  have  saved 
him  from  privation  and  annoyance  for  weeks.  Thus, 
after  losing  sevent^^-four  louis-d'or  at  play,  Gentz  man- 
ages with  difficulty  to  raise  seventy  more  by  pledging  a 
manuscript,  and  loses  the  money  the  same  evening  at 
the  same  house.  In  the  midst  of  all  these  folHes,  he 
writes,  Nov.  14,  '  I  resolve  to  travel  to  Weimar  with 
my  brother  Henry,  and  remain  there  fourteen  daj^s.' 
He  went  and  spent  three  weeks  there,  mostly  in  the 
Grand  Ducal  circle,  and,  what  he  valued  more,  in  daily, 
almost  lioiu^ly  intercourse  with  Goethe,  Schiller,  Herder, 
Wic'land,  and  Kotzebue ;  whilst  flattered  vanity,  and 
fa\'0urcd  if  not  successful  love,  kept  adding  to  the  in- 
toxication and  the  charm.  His  enchantress  was  a  young 
court  beaut)^,  Amalie  d'lmhofT,  who  afterwards  acquired 
some  celebrity  as  a  })oet.  On  one  occasion  he  writes  : 
'  I  })assed  the  morning  at  Mile.  dTmhofi''s ;  it  was  a 
remarkable  morning — hours  which  I  shall  remember 
to  my  dying  day.  I  never  experienced  a  sensation 
equal  to  that  which  enchanted  me  this  morning.     I 

'  '  The  State  of  Europe  Before  and  After  the  French  Revolution.' 
Being  an  answer  to  L'Etat  de  la  France  a  la  Fin  de  VAn  VIJI. 
Traushitcd  by  John  Charles  Ilerries,  Esq. :  1802. 


FREDERIC    VON    GEXTZ.  85 

even  fancied  I  saw  approaching  the  moment  of  a  great 
internal  revoUition.'  On  another  :  'I  read  and  wrote 
till  eleven.  I  tlien  went  to  Mile.  d'lmhofF's,  where  I 
again  enjoyed  all  that  is  fnic,  pnre,  and  grand  in  the 
commerce  of  mankind.' 

This  visit  to  Weimar  havin'f  revealed  to  him  how 
much  elevated  and  improving  pleasure  may  be  derived 
from  the  intellect  and  imagination,  apart  from  the  in- 
dulgence of  the  senses,  he  forms  some  excellent  resolu- 
tions, which  are  forgotten  almost  immediately  after  his 
return  to  the  scene  of  his  repented  errors. 

'  Effect  of  the  resolutions  at  Weimar.  On  the  25th  of 
December  I  lost  all  I  had  at  hazard,  so  I  was  obliged  to 
run  about  the  whole  of  the  following  day  to  raise  a  few 
dollars  for  Christmas  presents.  On  the  1st  of  January  (1803), 
I  sup  and  play  at  one  Buisson's,  go  home  about  one,  hut 
forget  the  house-key,  and  pass  the  night  elsewhere.  I 
could  not  help  noting  down  that,  after  the  resolution  of 
December,  it  was  an  odd  enough  manner  of  beginning  the 
new  year.  Yet  I  went  on  wi-iting  letters  of  from  six  to 
eight  sheets  each  to  Amalie  Imhoflf. 

'  On  the  26th  of  January  I  meet,  at  Mile.  Levin's,  ]Mlle. 
Eigensatz,  and  she  pleases  me.' 

Christel  Eigensatz  was  an  actress  of  considerable 
personal  attractions :  his  brief  accpiaintance  with  her 
formed  the  same  sort  of  episode  in  his  principal  love 
affair  as  the  adventure  of  Tom  Jones  with  Mrs.  Waters 
formed  in  his  ;  and  the  fair  Amalie  probably  resented 
it  in  the  same  manner  as  Sophia.  In  February  he 
received  a  '  tolerably  large '  remittance  through  Lori 
Carysfort. 

^February  21. — As  I  returned  home,  about  two  in  the 
morning,  I  foimd  a  letter  from  my  wife,  which  "  has  decided 
tlie  fate  of  my  life,"  And  the  next  day  our  resolution  was  taken 
probably  to  separate.  This,  however,  did  not  prevent  me  from 
going  to  a  ball  at  Ponstat's  to  play  trente-et-quarante,  &c. 

'  April  5. — Is  it  credible  ?  The  most  urgent,  the  most 
sensible  of  my  miseries  was  the  impossibility  of  making  a 


86  FREDERIC   YON    GEXTZ. 

present  to  Cbristel,  who  had  her  benefit  to-day.  And,  on 
the  same  clay,  fate  wafts  to  the  ivretch  luho  could  ivmte 
this  down  a  remittance  of  a  thousand  pounds  from  Eng- 
land.'' 

Well  might  he  exclaim,  as  he  does  in  a  subsequent 
entry,  '  Maintenant  c'est  le  delire  complet ! '  He  had 
just  self-command  and  discretion  enough  to  see  that 
such  a  life  must  be  broken  off  at  any  price ;  and  he 
came  suddenly  to  the  resolution  of  leaving  Berlin,  with 
all  its  ties,  regular  and  irregular :  a  resolution  doubtless 
precipitated  by  the  pressure  of  his  debts,  the  remon- 
strances of  his  family,  and  the  (not  always)  mute  re- 
proaches of  his  wife.  With  some  difficulty,  he  obtained 
leave  of  absence,  having  not  yet  thrown  up  his  em- 
ployments ;  and  on  the  19th  of  May  he  A\Tites  :  '  I  take 
leave  of  my  wnfe ;  and  on  the  20th,  at  three,  I  leave 
Berlin  ^^^th  Adam  Mliller,  never  to  see  it  again.' 

The  biography  of  men  of  letters  teems  with  examples 
of  similar  incapacity  to  resist  temptation :  and  one  of 
them,  himself  deeply  culpable,  emphatically  proclaims, 
as  one  of  the  worst  effects  of  illicit  passion  : 

'  1  wavf'  tlie  quantum  of  tlie  sin, 
The  hazard  o'  concealing, 
But,  oh  !  it  hardens  all  within, 
And  petrifies  the  feeling.' 

The  disorders  of  his  life  did  not  deaden  the  sensibili- 
ties or  cloud  the  intellect  of  Gentz  :  and  one  reason  was 
that  heneverfor  a  momentshut  his  eyes  to  thetrue  nature 
and  tendency  of  his  conduct,  nor  lost  his  relish  for 
purifying  studies  and  companionship.  Our  readers  will 
readily  recall  the  scene  wliere  Charles  Fox,  after  sittinsf 
up  all  night  at  Brooks',  and  losing  all  he  had  at  hazard, 
is  found  the  next  morning  quietly  reading  Euripides. 
Gentz,  in  similar  circumstances,  could  turn  with  equal 
ease  and  gratification  to  a  favourite  classic,  or  speculate 
with  Adam  Mliller  on  those  sublime  mysteries  which 
puzzled  Milton's  angels.     Nor  does  he  appear  to  have 


FREDERIC    VON    GEXTZ.  87 

ceased  gaining  fame  and  money  as  a  writer  at  the 
period  when  his  phrenzied  pursuit  of  excitement  was 
most  hkely  to  interfere  with  his  hterary  labours. 

His  abandonment  of  the  Prussian  service  and  his 
naturahsation  in  Austria,  were  the  gradual  and  unfore- 
seen result  of  circumstances.  He  was  neitlier  lured  by 
promises  nor  fettered  by  pledges,  when,  six  weeks  after 
his  departure  from  Berhn  with  Miiller,  he  arrived  in 
Vienna  with  Frohberg,  a  companion  of  a  widely  dif- 
ferent cast  of  mind ;  for  they  played  piquet  all  the  w^ay 
from  Iglau : — 

'  I  myself  (he  says)  do  not  know  the  precise  history  of  my 
settlement  in  Vienna.  The  inconceivable  meagreness  of  the 
journal  leaves  me  in  doubt.  It  seems  that  on  the  one  hand 
Landriani  (through  Colloredo  and  Cobentzl),  on  the  other 
Fasbender,  had  a  liand  in  it.  The  latter  persuaded  me,  the 
very  day  he  presented  me  to  the  Archduke  Charles,  to  write 
a  kind  of  memoir,  offering  my  services, — the  only  positive 
step  I  ever  took.  The  fate  of  this  memoir  is  unknown  to 
me.  After  ten  or  twelve  days,  I  am  taken  by  Colloredo  to 
an  audience  with  the  emperor,  who,  I  distinctly  remember, 
showed  no  desire  to  take  me  into  his  service.  Nevertheless, 
five  days  afterwards  (Sept.  6th),  Cobentzl  sent  for  me,  and 
informed  me  that  the  emperor  engaged  me  as  counsellor 
(Rath),  vnth.  a  salary  of  5,000  Gulden  (about  200^.).'  • 

In  another  man,  we  should  be  apt  to  term  this  igno- 
rance of  the  turning-point  of  his  life  affected  ;  but 
Gentz  was  so  thoroughly  the  slave  of  the  moment,  so 
prone  to  let  one  range  of  feelings  or  impressions  absorb  or 
replace  another,  that  imperfect  recollection  or  entire  for- 
getfulness  of  past  events,  simply  because  they  were  past, 
was  natural  to  him ;  and  the  correspondence  relating 
to  the  transactions  in  question  is  so  honourable  to  him, 
that  he  could  have  had  no  imaginable  motive  for  sup- 
pressing it.  The  communication  of  the  Gtli  having 
been  put  into  official  shape,  he  addressed  a  manly  and 
eloquent  letter  to  the  King  of  Prussia,  requesting  not 
merely  his  discharge,  but  some  gracious  expressions  of 


88  FREDERIC    VOX    GENTZ. 

a  nature  to  repel  reproach.  The  discharge  was  granted 
and  was  accompanied  by  an  assurance  that  His  Majesty 
'  in  reference  to  his  merits  as  a  writer,  coincided  in  tlie 
general  approbation  which  he  had  so  honoui'ably  ac- 
quired by  them.' 

One  of  the  charges  subsequently  brought  against 
Gentz  was,  that  he  had  bartered  '  the  yomig,  aspiring 
Prussia,  with  its  pregnant  future,'  against '  superannuated, 
saintish,  Eomish-imperial  Austria.'  Admitting  (what 
we  should  be  slow  to  admit)  that  Prussia  came  up  to 
this  description  as  regards  her  internal  policy  at  any 
time,  her  external  policy  was  then  to  the  last  degree 
vacillating  and  devoid  of  high  principle.  She  soon 
afterwards  became  the  complacent  ally  of  France  and 
condescended  to  accept  Hanover  for  her  subserviency. 
What  would  have  been  the  position  of  Gentz  had  he 
remained  in  her  service  ?  He  must  have  laid  aside  his 
pen  altogether  or  have  used  it  to  palhate  a  course  of 
public  conduct  which  he  reprobated  and  despised. 
Tliis  dilemma  he  e\idently  foresaw;  and  the  ivore  or  less 
of  hberaHty  discoverable  in  the  domestic  administration 
of  Prussia  is  nothing  to  the  point.  What  he  saw  and 
preferred  in  Austria  was  the  firm  friend  of  constitutional 
England  and  the  determined  enemy  of  revolutionary 
France.  The  Austrian  statesmen  with  whom  he  co- 
operated were  those  who  successively  presided  over  the 
department  of  foreign  affairs,  and  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  cordiality  of  his  co-operation  was  uniformly  propor- 
tioned to  their  increasing  or  diminishing  hostility  to  his 
own  arch  foe,  Napoleon.  Moreover,  before  Gentz  can 
fiiirly  be  made  responsible  for  the  despotic  and  reac- 
tionary chai-acter  of  the  Imperial  regime,  it  should  be 
shown  that  the  ministers  he  was  supposed  to  influence 
had  power  to  modify  it ;  the  truth  being  that  the  hume 
policy  of  Austria  was  under  the  guidance  of  a  totally 
diff(!rent  set  of  men  from  those  whose  names  are  fa- 
tniliarly  kn()^vn  lo  Europe  as  representing  liur  in  foreign 


FREDERIC    VOX    GENTZ.  89 

comets  and  congresses.      Referring   to  this   particular 
period,  he  sets  down  : — 

'What  more  I  did  at  this  time,  how  I  meant  to  hve,  liow 
I  had  lived  till  then,  all  is  now  a  mystery  to  me.  In  Dres- 
den I  mixed  as  usnal  with  the  fasliionable  world,  with  Met- 
ternich,  Elliot,  and  other  people  of  distinction ;  and,  qnite 
casually,  Elliot  proposed  to  me  on  the  26th  to  travel  witli 
him  to  England.  So  far  as  I  recollect,  Metternich  gave  me 
a  bill  on  England  for  100^.,  and  Armfeldt,  from  whom  the 
evening  before  I  had  won  200  dollars,  a  similar  one.  On  the 
1st  of  October  I  travelled  alone  from  Dresden  to  Weimar. 
There  I  lose  forty  louis  d'ors  to  the  Duke ;  send  my  servant 
with  an  endless  quantity  of  letters  to  Berlin,  and  wait  for 
Elliot,  who  arrives  punctually  on  the  6th.' 

Mr.  Elliot,  whose  witty  repHes  to  Frederic  the  Great 
have  won  him  a  permanent  place  in  the  annals  of  dip- 
lomacy, was  then  English  minister  at  Dresden.^  All 
we  learn  of  their  journey  is  that  Genlz  was  '  auf's 
ausserste  tyrakaisirt '  (excessively  tyrannised  over)  by 
his  companion  ;  which  perhaps  was  the  best  thing  that 
could  happen  to  a  traveller  of  his  wavering  mood,  ever 
ready  to  linger  on  the  road  or  step  aside  to  gather 
flowers.  The  list  of  distinguished  persons  by  wliom 
he  was  received  in  England  shows  that  he  turned  his 
visit  to  good  account ;  and  the  late  Mr.  T.  Grenvillft 
is  reported  to  have  called  him  the  best  talker  he  ever 
heard  ;  adchng :  '  I  had  known  Gentz  intimately  at 
Berhn,  When  he  came  to  England  he  immediately 
called  on  me,  and  earnestly  desiied  to  be  made  [)er- 
sonally  acquainted  with  Fox,  my  brother  Lord  Gren- 
ville,  and  the  other  great  men  of  the  day.  Accordingly 
I  asked  them  to  dinner  with  him.  They  came,  and 
were  so  charmed  with  the  Prussian  statesman  that 
they  declared  they  should  be  most  happy  to  dine  with 

*  The  career  of  this  remarkable  man  has  since  been  made  familiar  by 
an  interesting  Memoir  of  The  liit/ht  Hon.  Ilut/h  Elliot.  By  the  Cou/de.ia 
of  Minto,  18G8.  The  repartees  attributed  to  him  are  discussed  in  The 
Qmuierhj  Eevictv  for  October,  18G8,  pp.  .349-3o0. 


90  FREDERIC   TON   GEXTZ. 

liim  again  at  my  house  the  very  next  day.'  Yet  be- 
tween Fox  and  Gentz  there  was  no  bond  of  sympathy 
besides  that  which  ahnost  invariably  exists  between 
superior  men  of  all  parties.  Wliilst  in  England  he  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Count  Stadion,  hastening  his  return 
on  grounds  shrewdly  divined  and  pointedly  stated  : — 

'  So  far  as  I  can  see,  people  are  behaving  very  well  to- 
wards you  here  (Vienna).  They  tell  me  that  the  terms  in 
which  the  King  has  granted  your  discharge  are  very  satisfac- 
tory ;  and  there  is  much  less  clamom  and  gossip  about  you 
than  I  apprehended.  It  is  not  in  the  first  moment  of  your 
settlement  in  Vienna  that  the  mines  will  be  sprung  against 
you.  Jealousy  and  envy  commonly  reason  too  well  to  dis- 
charge their  shafts  at  the  time  wlien  all  the  eclat  of  your 
reputation,  and  all  the  pleasure  of  having  gained  you  to  our 
interests,  would  serve  you  as  a  buckler.  It  is  later,  when 
people  have  got  accustomed  to  see  you  every  day,  to  observe 
you  en  robe  de  chambre,  that  you  must  be  on  your  guard.  It 
is  then  that  those  who  wish  to  injure  you  will  liave  found 
your  weak  and  your  strong  side,  and  tried  to  set  their 
machinations  at  work.' 

lie  still  lingered,  and  passed  some  weeks  on  his 
return  at  Weimar  and"  Dresden,  as  if  instinctively  ap- 
prehensive of  his  reception  at  Vienna  ;  where  he  finds, 
on  arriving,  that  his  time  had  not  yet  come,  the  Im- 
perial policy  being  in  too  wavering  a  condition  to  need 
a  counsellor,  coadjutor,  or  penman  of  his  positive  ways 
of  thinking  and  unyielding  temper.  '  My  first  inter- 
view with  Count  Cobentzl,  and  especially  with  Collen- 
bach,  might  have  shown  me  that  the  stage  of  genuine 
activity  was  not  yet  open  to  me.  I  was  certainly 
treated  with  great  respect,  but  at  the  same  time  with 
mistrust  and  jealousy  ;  and,  in  reality,  men  like  these 
could  not  well  act  otherwise  towards  me.'  In  the 
meantime  he  mixed  much  in  society,  and  went  on 
foiming  new  and  valuable  acquaintance.  'Almost  the 
only  thing,'  he  says,    '  which    T   then   carried  on  witli 


FREDERIC   YON    GENTZ.  01 

eagerness,  was  my  correspondence  with  England,  par- 
ticularly \vitli  Vansittart.'  This  led  to  his  forming  a 
close  intimacy  with  Sir  Arthur  Paget,  a  congenial 
spirit  in  many  ways,  of  whom  we  consequently  hear  a 
great  deal  not  always  to  the  credit  of  the  pair,  whose 
common  subjects  of  interest  were  play  and  gallantry 
much  oftener  than  diplomacy  or  politics.  ^  At  Paget's 
he  met  Le  Maistre  : 

'  Wonderful  is  it  that  this  fact  was  first  brought  back  to 
my  recollection  by  my  old  diary.  The  circumstance  tliat  I 
had  seen  this  great  man  had  entirely  escaped  my  memory  ; 
so  little  impression  had  he  then  made  upon  me.  How  did 
that  come  to  pass  ?  I  must,  however,  have  held  him  very 
high  as  the  author  of  the  Considerations  sur  la  Revolution. 
Was  I  spoilt  by  the  every  day  life  of  great  circles,  or  too 
surfeited  with  diplomatic  prattle  ?  ' 

Another  memorable  acquaintance  was  Lord 
Brougham,  who  came  to  Vienna  in  December,  1804, 
and,  although  he  had  not  yet  entered  Parliament,  was 
rapidly  rising  into  fame.  '  Brougham  came  to  Vienna, 
and  sought  me  with  much  interest.  I  did  not 
like  his  cynical  natm-e,  but  I  could  not  resist  his 
originality,  his  understanding,  and  his  eloquence.  We 
saw  each  other  almost  daily.  I  took  him,  little  formed  a% 
he  was  for  good  society,  to  Paget's,  where  at  the 
first  party,  {a  propos  of  a  conversation  with  A'Court  at 
Naples),  he  behaved  so  improperly  that  we  were 
obliged  to  give  him  up.' 

About  this  time  Gentz  wrote  a  memoir,  addressed 
to  Cobentzl,  to  prove  that  the  Austrian  Cabinet  ought 
not  to  recognise  the  Imperial  title  assumed  by  Bona- 
parte.    This  led  to  a  correspondence  with  Louis  XVIII. , 

^  In  the  later  editions  of  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers  is  this 
couplet : — 

*  Here's  Powell's  pistol  ready  for  your  life, 
And  kinder  still  tico  Pag-ets  for  your  wife.' 

Sir  Arthur  was  one  of  the  two  intended.  The  affair  which  won  him 
his  immortality  i.s  mentioned  by  Gentz. 


92  FREDERIC   VON   GEXTZ. 

from  whom  he  received  several  autograph  letters.  In 
another  tract  against  I^apoleon,  he  had  so  far  counter- 
acted the  views  of  the  ministry  as  to  be  regarded  as 
their  opponent ;  and  wlien,  towards  the  end  of  August, 
1805,  war  became  inevitable,  he  was  left  in  complete 
ignorance  of  all  that  was  going  on  behind  the  scenes, 
and  had  good  reason  to  dread  an  entire  loss  of  in- 
fluence and  consideration  as  the  result : — 

'  It  was  a  fatal  epoch.  Had  I  only  in  June  conducted 
myself  with  more  calmness  and  prudence  towards  Wiut- 
zingerode,  who  came  to  Vienna  on  the  part  of  Russia  to  make 
provision  for  the  joint  war,  and  was  ready  to  grant  me  his 
full  confidence,  I  had  still  been  able  to  effect  an  honoiu-able 
retreat  and  do  much  good.  But  I  fell  from  one  mistake 
into  another.' 

His  mistakes  mattered  nothing.  Whenever  the 
spirit  of  revolutionary  despotism,  embodied  in  Napoleon, 
was  to  be  encountered  in  right  earnest,  on  sound 
principles,  and  with  broad,  unselfish,  truly  elevated 
views,  his  co-operation  was  universally  felt  to  be 
indispensable.  There  was  not  another  pen  in  Germany, 
nor  perhaps  in  Ein^ope,  that  could  give  equal  force  to 
the  combined  protest  of  insulted  sovereigns  and 
suppressed  nationahties,  or  fling  an  equal  halo  round 
their  cause.  He  was  as  sure  to  be  called  for  in  the 
emergency  as  the  popular  commander  by  whom  the 
armies  were  to  be  led  ;  and  we  were  not  at  all  surprised 
to  read,  directly  after  the  last  burst  of  despondency  : — 

'  On  the  14th  of  September  a  grand  reconciliation  took  place 
between  me  and  Count  Cobentzl.  I  now  resolved  to  take 
up  the  pen  for  Austria,  and  sketclied  the  plan  of  a  work  on 
the  balance  of  power.  To  carry  out  this  plan,  wliich  Cobentzl 
liiglily  approved,  I  immediately  settled  down  in  my  old 
suuuner  residence  at  Hietzing,  where  I  satisfactorily  com- 
pleted several  sections.' 

He  was  sinuillaneously  employed  in  pnlting  the 
rinisliin<f    (ouch    (o    liis    work    on    (he   '  War   between 


FREDERIC   VOX   OENTZ.  03 

Spain  and  England,'  wliicli  was  publislied  in  180G,  and 
contribnted  largely  to  turn  European  opinion  in  favour 
of  England.  Ilis  labours  were  suddenly  and  un- 
pleasantly interrupted  by  the  near  approach  of  the 
French  army. 

'  On  the  7th  of  November  Count  Cobentzl  revealed  to  me, 
with  bitter  tears,  that  it  was  time  to  leave  Vienna.  Count 
Fries,  who  had  often  stood  my  friend,  and  Fasbender,  lielped 
me  to  put  my  money  matters  in  order  so  far  as  practicable, 
and  on  the  evening  of  the  8th,  at  the  same  time  with 
Fasbender,  and  in  his  carriage,  I  left  Vienna,  and  on  the 
10th  ari'ived  with  Paget  and  other  fugitives  at  Briinn.' 

The  news  of  the  battle  of  Austerhtz  reached  them  at 
Troppau  on  the  4th  of  December,  and  they  hirrried  off 
to  Breslau ;  but  on  the  4th  of  January  we  find  him  at 
Dresden,  contracting  with  a  bookseller  for  the  pub- 
lication of  the  two  books  on  which  he  was  principally 
employed  ;  for  that  they  did  not  absorb  his  whole  time 
appears  from  a  subsequent  entry,  to  the  effect  that  he 
had  been  working  hard  at  his  manuscripts  and  on 
memoirs  for  London. 

'  On  the  8th  of  February,'  he  adds, '  at  a  dinner  at  Wynne's, 
the  English  Minister,  we  received  the  news  of  Pitt's  death. 
Curious  that,  notwithstanding  my  grief  at  this  event,  I  did  nof 
regard  the  composition  of  the  new  (Fox-Grenville)  ministry 
with  unfavourable  eyes ;  I  rather  promised  myself  great 
results  from  it.' 

On  the  16th  of  April  he  linished  the  introduction  to 
his  '  Fragments  upon  the  Balance  of  Power  in  Europe,' 
and  to  his  entire  satisfaction : 

'  This  introduction,  as  regards  power,  fulness,  and  beauty 
of  style,  is  indisputably  the  best  piece  on  the  larger  scale 
that  I  have  ever  written  for  the  public.  I  read  at  this  time 
daily,  and  often  many  hours  of  the  night,  in  the  Bible, 
deeply  captivated  by  this  reading.' 

To  his  biblical  readincr  may  be  traced  much  of  the 


94  FREDERIC   VOX    GEXTZ. 

lligll-^\Tougllt  energy,  the  lofty  spirit  of  self-sacrifice, 
the  contempt  for  present  evils,  and  the  richness  of 
imagery,  which  distinguished  this  production.  It  was 
undertaken  to  promote  a  hopeful  enterprise :  the 
completed  parts  of  it  were  pubhshed  to  counteract  the 
demoralising  influences  of  ill  success.  Like  the 
political  tracts  of  Burke,  it  abounds  in  passages  of 
universal  and  permanent  application. 

This  work  was  sent  to  Mackintosh,  then  at  Bombay, 
with  a  letter  describing  the  state  of  events  after  the 
peace  of  Presburg.     The  reply  begins  thus  : — 

'  I  received  your  letter  of  the  6th  of  May.  I  have  read 
it  fifty  times  since  with  the  same  sentiment  which  a  Eoman, 
at  the  extremity  of  Mauritania,  would  probably  have  felt  if 
he  had  received  an  account  of  the  ruin  of  his  country, 
written  the  morning  after  the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  with  all 
the  unconquerable  spirit  of  Cato  and  the  terrible  energy  of 
Tacitus.  He  would  have  exulted  that  there  was  something 
CcBsar  could  not  subdue,  and  from  which  a  deliverer  and  an 
avenger  might  yet  spring.  ...  I  received  by  the  same  mail 
yom*  two  precious  packets.  I  assent  to  all  you  say,  sympa- 
thise with  all  you  feel,  and  admire  equally  your  reason  and 
your  eloquence  throughout  your  masterly  fragment.' 

On  the  7  th  of  October,  Gentz  wrote  to  von  Hammer, 
the  liistorian  : 

'  The  question  is  no  longer  about  certain  provinces,  nor 
the  political  equilibrium,  but  the  individual  safety  of  every 
one  is  at  stake.  You  will  know  the  sentence  against  Palm. 
Berthier  says  he  has  orders  to  shoot  whoever  should  read 
writings  such  as  those  of  Arndt,  Gentz,  &c.  The  internecine 
war  against  opinion,  the  extinction  of  thought,  is  in  the 
Order  of  the  day.' 

In  December,  180G,  Palm,  a  bookseller  of  Nurem- 
berg, was  tried  by  com"t- martial  for  exciting  to  insur- 
rection by  the  circulation  of  libels  against  Napoleon, 
condemned  and  shot.  Gentz's  last  work  was  one  of 
the  alleged  libels,  and  probably  the  most  irritating ; 


FREDERIC   VON    GENTZ.  95 

but  tlie  sentence  was  general,  and  he  cannot  be  fairly 
charged  with  being  even  the  innocent  and  unconscious 
cause  of  this  atrocity.^ 

The  book  was  also  sent  to  Stadion  and  the  Emperor, 
and  called  forth  letters  from  each  which  determined 
him  to  return  to  Viemia.  Shortly  afterwards  he  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Prince  Czartorisld  with  a  ring 
(worth  from  1,200  to  1,500  dollars)  from  the  Emperor 
Alexander ;  a  present  which  gratified  him  the  less 
because  he  had  just  heard  of  the  peace  between  France 
and  Russia,  the  treaty  of  M.  d'Oubril,  which  the  Em- 
peror subsequently  refused  to  ratify.  His  retirement 
from  the  Prussian  service  had  in  no  respect  impaired 
his  reputation  or  authority  with  Prussian  princes  and 
statesmen  ;  and  we  find  the  most  distinguished  of  them 
repairing  to  him  for  counsel  and  aid  as  soon  as  they 
had  reason  to  anticipate  a  breach  with  France.  Stein 
has  long  conferences  ^\ath  him :  Prince  Louis  carries 
him  off  to  a  grand  hunting  party  given  by  Prince 
Lobkowitz  at  Eisenberg,  where  the  coming  crisis  is 
discussed ;  and  on  the  30th  of  September  arrives 
General  Phlill  wdth  a  letter  from  Count  Haugwitz,  then 
at  the  head  of  affairs  in  Prussia,  in\'iting  him  to  the 
Prussian  head-quarters  at  Naumburg.  He  arrived  there 
on  the  3rd  of  October,  and  formed  part  of  the  royal 
and  ministerial  suite  till  the  17  th  ;  a  brief  interval  preg- 
nant with  momentous  events,  which  he  has  minutely 
and  scrupulously  recorded  in  one  of  the  most  remark- 

^  *  The  pamphlet  was  entitled  "  L'Allemap:ne  dans  son  Abaissement," 
and  was  attributed  to  the  pen  of  M.  Gentz.  Palm  was  offered  his  pardon 
upon  condition  that  he  gave  up  the  author  of  the  work,  which  he  refused 
to  do.'  (Scott's  '  Life  of  Napoleon,'  ch.  xxxiv.  note.)  All  Gentz's  tracts 
were  avowed  and  notorious,  and  '  L'AUemagne,'  &c.  was  not  by  him. 
Sir  Archibald  Alison  mentions  the  '  Fragments  upon  the  Balance  of 
Power '  as  one  of  tico  specially  inculpated.  At  a  dinner  given  by  an 
eminent  publisher,  Thomas  Campbell  rose  and,  on  the  part  of  the  authors 
present,  proposed  '  Napoleon  Buonaparte.'  '  Why  are  we  to  drink  hia 
health  ?  '  asked  the  astonished  host.     'Because  he  shot  a  bookseller.' 


96  FREDERIC   VOX   GEXTZ. 

able  liistorioal  dociiineiits  now  extant.  ^  It  contains  a 
complete  exposure  of  the  iinpa'^alleled  folly,  corruption, 
and  incapacity  of  the  Prussian  ministers  and  generals, 
who  managed  to  fix  upon  the  very  worst  time  for  com- 
mencing hostihties,  and  the  very  worst  mode  of  con- 
ducting them. 

As  usual,  Prussia  missed  her  opportunity  of  throw- 
ing a  decisive  weight  into  the  scale.  She  hesitated 
till  the  Austrians  had  been  beaten  at  Austerlitz, 
and  compelled  to  sign  peace  at  Presburg ;  and  then, 
with  England  alienated  by  her  acceptance  of  Hano- 
ver and  Russia  uncertain,  she  defied  Napoleon,  who 
made  short  work  of  her  at  Jena.  Gentz's  narrative 
leaves  us  in  doubt  whether  her  policy,  if  it  merits 
the  uame,  was  owing  to  the  King's  weakness  or  the 
corruption  of  his  advisers.  Haugwitz  laboured  hard 
to  prove  that  the  war  was  rendered  inevitable  by  the 
national  feeling  shared  and  encouraged  by  the  Queen 
and  Prince  Louis,  and  that  the  ruinous  delay  was  owing 
to  the  almost  invincible  repugnance  of  the  king.  The 
grand  object  was  to  reconcile  the  late  subserviency  to 
France  with  this  sudden  display  of  offended  dignity ; 
and  for  this  purpose  the  first  pen  in  Germany  was  to 
be  secured.  '  The  object  for  which  I  wished  to  see 
3'ou,'  says  Haugwitz  to  Gentz,  '  is  the  most  important 
it  is  possible  to  imagine  ;  it  is  the  interest  and  success 
of  our  enterprise.  You  cannot,  must  not  quit  us. 
Besides,  I  answer  for  everything.  I  know  that  they 
will  be  content  in  Vienna  with  what  )^ou  will  do  here. 
Never  will  you  have  done  a  more  essential  service  to 
the  general  cause.  I  will  take  care  of  your  horses,  of 
j^our  lodging,  of  everything.' 

The  service  for  which  he  was  especially  wanted  was 
to  revise  the  King's  letter  to  Napoleon  and  the  war 

'  'Journal  do  ce  qui  m'est  ar  lvt5  de  plus  marquant  dans  lu  Voyago  que 
j'ai  fuit  au  Quaitier-(n^u(5ral  de  S.M.  lu  lioi  de  I'rusae,'  &c.  It  was  not 
printed  in  a  complete  form  till  1841. 


FREDKRIC    VON    GEXTZ.  97 

manifesto  prepared  by  Lombard,  who,  witli  some  diffi- 
culty, is  persuaded  to  make  important  changes  in  both. 

'  When  the  task  of  revision  was  completed,  Lomhard  told 
me  that  the  King  was  extremely  anxious  for  the  publication 
of  this  manifesto  :  that  he  was  unwilling  to  draw  the  sword 
without  a  declaration  of  the  moti\es,  and  that  I  should  do 
them  a  great  service  by  hastening  the  translation  as  much 
as  possible.  I  undertook  it  on  my  return  to  my  lodgings, 
and,  having  devoted  tlie  w^liole  niglit  to  it,  finished  it  by 
eight  in  the  morning  (Oct.  7th).  I  saw  this  morning  a 
number  of  persons,  and  especially  a  great  number  of  officers 
of  the  royal  suite.  I  can  aver  with  perfect  truth  tliat  every 
man  I  met  in  the  streets  addressed  me  with  nearly  the  same 
compliment :  "  You  are  here.  God  be  praised  !  This  time, 
then,  we  shall  not  be  deceived."  On  reflecting  on  all  that 
was  fatal  in  a  situation  where  such  guarantees  were  needed 
to  calm  distrust  and  fear,  I  began  at  the  same  time  to  suspect 
that  the  effect  produced  by  my  presence  might  well  have  been 
the  principal  motive  in  inviting  me.  ]Many  things  I  have 
observed  since  have  confirmed  me  in  this  opinion.' 

At  all  events,  they  were  determined  to  get  as  mucli 
AYork  as  they  coidd  ont  of  him  :  for  the  next  day,  after 
dinner,  Haugwitz  requested  him,  in  tlie  King's  name, 
to  draw  up  a  proclamation  to  the  army,  on  the  subject 
and  cliaracter  of  the  war  ;  another  addressed  to  the* 
Prussian  public  in  the  same  sense  :  and  (what  naturally 
struck  him  as  odd)  a  prayer  to  be  recited  in  the 
churches. 

In  noticing  the  letter,  Napoleon  spoke  of  it  as  a 
Avretclied  pamphlet,  such  as  England  engaged  hireling 
authors  to  compose  at  the  rate  of  500/.  a  year,  adding, 
'  I  am  sorry  for  my  brother,  who  does  not  understand 
the  French  language,  and  has  certainly  never  read  that 
rhapsody.'  He  also  made  light  of  the  manifesto  ;  but 
that  a  good  deal  of  his  indifTerence  on  this  score  was 
affected,  is  betrayed  by  the  tone  in  whicb  he  assailed 
the  reputed  author  in  his  bulletins.  Edged  in  between 
bitter  sarcasms  levelled  at    the  Queen,  we  find  a  state- 

YOL.    I.  II 


98  FREDERIC   VON   GEXTZ  . 

merit  that  public  indignation  is  at  its  height  against  the 
authors  of  tlie  war,  especially  Her  Majesty  and  '  a 
wretched  scribe  named  Gentz,  one  of  those  men  with- 
out honour  who  sell  themselves  for  money.'  ^ 

He  received  no  remuneration  in  any  shape  for  his 
services  on  that  occasion ;  and  to  be  cahunniated  in 
such  company  was  a  distinction  of  which  he  had  good 
reason  to  be  proud.  At  the  same  time  it  was  a  serious 
matter  for  either  man  or  woman  to  have  this  kind  of 
mark  set  upon  them.  Gibbon  winds  up  the  third 
chapter  of  his  history  with  some  striking  reflections 
on  the  wide-spread  and  far-reacliing  tyranny  of  the 
Ca3sars.  '  To  resist  was  fatal,  and  it  was  impossible  to 
fly.  "  Wherever  you  are,"  wrote  Cicero  to  Marcellus, 
"  remember  that  you  are  equally  within  the  power  of 
the  conqueror."  A  similar  train  of  reflection  was  sug- 
gested by  the  prostrate  condition  of  the  Continent  when 
Napoleon's  power  was  at  its  culminating  point,  and  the 
selected  ol)jects  of  liis  vindictiveness,  with  the  fate  of 
the  Due  d'Enghien  before  their  eyes,  were  shunned  or 
warned  off  by  neutral  or  friendly  territories,  as  the 
wounded  stag  is  expelled  or  avoided  b}^  tlie  herd. 
Madame  de  Stael  had  to  make  a  long  and  perilous 
circuit  to  reach  a  precarious  resting-place,''^  and  Gentz, 
a  sworn  servant  of  the  House  of  Hapsburg,  was  told  to 
keep  aloof  from  their  capital  for  fear  of  compromising 
them  : 

'  As  they  would  not  have  rae  in  Vienna,  since  Napoleon 
had  assailed  me  in  the  most  violent  terms  in  his  Berlin 
bulletins,*!  travelled  on  the  12th  of  November  to  Prague, 

^  '  Miserable  scribe,  noQim6  Gentz,  im  de  ces  bomnies  sans  bouueur 
qui  se  vendent  pour  de  I'argent.' 

^  '  Certes,  on  no  pouvait  a'enipecbev  de  le  penser,  FEurope,  jadis  si 
facilement  ouverte  a  tous  les  vojag-enrs,  est  deveuue  sous  riiiiluonco 
de  I'Euipereur  Napolnon  coiume  un  f^rand  filet  qui  vous  enlace  a  cbaque 
pas.  ...  La  giiograpliie  do  TEiirope,  telle  que  Napoleon  I'a  faite, 
s'apprend  que  trop  bieii  par  le  malbeur.  Les  detours  qu'il  Tallait  prendre 
pour  eviter  sa  puissance  etaient  d(5ja  pros  de  deux  niillo  lieues,  et 
niaintenant,  en  partant  de  Viennc  menie,  j'etais  reduite  a  eniprunter  lo 
territoire  asiatique  pour  y  ecliapper.' — Dix  Aiis  (VExil. 


FKEDEEIC    VOX    OEXTZ.  99 

and  settled  down  in  a  wretched  quarter  there.  I  was  so 
poor,  that  a  loan  of  400  paper  florins  from  one  Remboldt, 
Dietrichstein's  secretary,  was  of  the  greatest  moment  to  me. 
What  further  was  to  become  of  me  I  knew  not.  Every 
journal  brought  the  worst  news  of  the  progress  of  the 
French,  the  entire  separation  of  England  from  the  Conti- 
nent,' &c.,  &c. 

This,  if  a  strange,  is  by  no  means  a  dishononral)le 
position  for  a  man  who  had  just  been  held  up  to  pubhc 
contempt  by  an  emperor  for  selhng  his  pen  to  princes ; 
nor  was  lie  more  than  temporarily  depressed  by  it : 

'  I  was,  notwithstanding,  almost  always  in  the  finest  tone 
of  mind  ;  passed  the  livelong  day  in  the  best  company ;  and 
at  tliis  very  time  awoke  in  me  the  last  passion  which  has 
chained  me  to  a  woman.  The  Duchess  of  Acerenza,  born 
Princess  of  Courland,  was  the  object.  This  passion  arose 
soon  after  my  arrival  in  Prague,  where  I  spent  nearly  every 
evening  with  the  Princess,  at  the  pleasantest  house  in  the 
town.  In  the  month  of  December  it  rose  to  a  pitch  of 
wildness,  of  which  my  journal  has  retained  the  most  remark- 
able traces  in  letters  of  fire.  I  wrote  to  Adam  Miiller  :  "  The 
charms  of  this  woman  made  me  completely  forget  that 
there  were  a  sun  and  stars  beyond  the  heights  round 
Prague."  Yet  there  was  a  certain  independence  and  power 
in  this  with  outward  circumstances  so  strangely  contrasting* 
madness.' 

Exciting  times,  stirring  events,  great  risks  run  and 
great  things  performed  or  attempted,  warm  the  blood, 
kindle  the  imagination,  increase  sensibility,  encourage 
enterprise,  and  breathe  hope.  Whatever  the  cause, 
the  secret  history  of  revolutionary  times  is  full  of  pas- 
sions, intrigues,  and  amatory  adventures,  which  appa- 
rently absorb  the  thoughts  and  interests  of  the  self- 
same actors  and  actresses  who  are  simultaneously 
playing  the  leading  parts  in  courts  and  camps  before 
the  world : — 

'  Pour  mcriter  son  cceur,  pour  plaire  a  ses  beaux  yeux, 
J'ai  fait  la  gueiTe  aux  rois,  je  Tauroi^  faite  aux  Dieux.' 

n  2 


100  FREDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ. 

All  revolutionary  pei'iods  more  or  less  resemble 
the  Fronde  ill  this  respect;  and  there  is  truth  in  the 
concluding  remark  of  Gentz,  that  the  capacity  for  a 
concentration  of  feeling  in  agitating  and  distracting 
circumstances  shows  power. 

'  1807. — The  beginning  of  this  year  was  distinguished  by 
my  mad  passion  for  Joanna  of  Courland.  It  was  first,  after 
a  short  diu-ation,  interrupted  by  an  adventurous  journey  to 
Nachod,  where  I  off  my  o\\m  hand  (auf  eigene  Faust)  treated 
with  Count  Gotzen  for  the  provisional  occupation  of  the 
Prusso-Silesian  fortresses  by  Austrian  troops.  (This  occurred 
from  the  10th  to  the  17th  of  January.)  On  my  return,  I 
found  all  changed  ;  Wallmoden  in  possession  ;  my  folly 
rewarded  as  it  deserved.  Still  the  oscillations  of  the  passions 
lasted  far  into  March,  when  (with  Mohrenheim's  help)  they 
finally  ceased.  The  descriptions  are  cmdous,  but  could  not  be 
preserved.' 

About  this  time  he  received  500  louis  from  Adair, 
the  English  Minister  at  Vienna,  and,  '  rather  unex- 
l)ectedl3%  500  ducats,  with  a  ring  in  brilliants  worth 
400,  from  Prince  Czartoriski,'  on  the  part  of  Eussia. 
In  June  another  500  louis  from  England,  and  in  July 
we  find  him  with  horses,  carriages  and  cook,  sunk  in 
endless  enjoyments  and  frivolities  with  the  Princess  Ba- 
gration,  the  Duchess  of  Weimar,  the  Duke  of  Coburg, 
and  the  whole  fine  world  of  Carlsbad,  where  the  news 
of  the  Treaty  of  Tilsit  had  just  arrived.  But  with  him 
dissipation  never  implies  idleness.  He  is  constantly 
occupied  with  wdiat  he  calls  the  higher  politics,  al- 
though in  tlie  spring  he  complains  that  the}'  were 
slipj)ery  ground  for  him.  Ue  did  not  wish  to  break 
with  liussia  :  he  could  not  break  with  Austria  ;  and 
both,  owing  to  the  '  mis-screwed '  condition  of  the 
world,  were  on  warlike  terms  with  England.  He, 
however,  wrote  and  addressed  to  Canning  a  strong 
memoir  on  the  liussian  war-manifesto,  which  he  had 
cause  to  b(!li(,'ve  was  well  received;  and  in  May,  ItSOS, 
the  Duke  of  Portland,  liis  particular  friend,  being  then 


FREDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ.  101 

at  tlio  head  of  tlic  miiiistiy,  a  considerable  credit  was 
opened  to  liini  in  England,  which  at  once  relieved  him 
from  all  pressing  cares.     He  then  goes  to  Toplitz,  in 
tending  to  spend  the  summer  there  : 

'  There  I  immediately  made  the  acquaintance  of  Madame 
de  Stael,  who  was  travelling-  in  North  Germany  with  August 
Wilhelm  Schlegel  and  Sismondi ;  and,  few  other  visitors 
having  arrived,  I  passed  several  remarkal^Ie  days  with  her : 
accompanied  her  to  Pirna, — for  I  dared  not  enter  Dresden 
— and  suffered  myself  to  be  deeply  fascinated  by  her  clever 
flatteries,  which  at  length  assumed  a  really  passionate 
character  and  awoke  the  jealousy  of  her  two  companions. 
She  wrote  to  Vienna,  where  she  had  passed  the  winter,  that 
I  was  the  first  man  of  Germany.' 

Madame  de  Stael  was  quite  as  anxious  to  please  as  a 
woman  as  a  wit,  and  in  her  advances  to  celebrated  men 
with  a  turn  for  gallantry,  she  did  not  leave  the  im- 
pression that  her  speculations  on  the  passions  were 
limited  to  the  Platonic  theory.  Gentz's  political  celeb- 
rity and  social  successes,  his  glow  and  flow  of  mind,  his 
lofty  defiance  of  their  common  foe,  and  his  professed 
admiration  for  her  gennis,  were  sure  to  captivate  her  ; 
nor  was  it  at  all  surprising  that  her  learned  companions 
were  thrown  into  the  shade.  She  partially  agreed  with 
Byron  : —  ♦ 

'I  bate  your  authors,  wLo're  all  author, — ft  Hows 
In  foolscap  uniform  turned  up  Avith  ink.' 

Schlegel,  although  the  vainest  of  mortals,  was 
trained  to  drop  into  the  backgrounrl  when  she  was 
amusing  herself  in  this  fashion,  and,  much  to  his  dis- 
gust, was  universally  regarded  as  the  original  of  the 
humble  friend  and  complacent  admirer  in  '  Corinne.' 
In  a  letter  to  Eahel,  June,  1814,  Geutz  makes  a  most 
ungrateful  return  for  Madame  de  Stael's  flattering  at- 
tentions, and  speaks  sHghtingly  of  the  political  part  of 
her  book  on  Germany  : — 

'  It   contains   some    remarkable    and    admirably-written 


102  FREDERIC    VON    GENTZ. 

chapters  on  German  literature.  All  the  rest  is  dished-up 
rubbish.  What  does  so  disgusting  an  egotist,  who  refers 
everything  to  les  peines  cle  coeur,  that  is,  to  the  wi'etched 
history  of  her  (deservedly)  unsuccessful  love-trials — what 
does  or  can  she  know  about  nations,  or,  for  that  matter, 
about  individuals,  when  it  is  not  revealed  to  her  as  in  these 
chapters  by  a  sort  of  inspiration  ?  She  set  to  once,  and  in 
right  earnest,  making  love  to  me  :  it  was  in  1 808.  Out  of 
mere  vanity,  I  then  compelled  myself  to  ciiltivate  her.  She 
subsequently  became  unbearable  to  me.  In  1813,  she  wrote 
me  some  foolish  and  withal  insolent  letters  from  Stockholm, 
of  a  political  cast.  I  answered  her  coldly  and  slightingly. 
Thereupon  she  got  wdld,  and  has  since  talked  of  me  in 
England  as  one  who  deserved  worse  than  hanging.  A 
certain  power  of  execution  cannot  be  denied  to  this  lady  : 
were  she  other  than  she  is,  and  knew  how  to  write  so, 
she  might  become  great.  But  since  none,  even  with  the 
highest  so-called  talent,  can  express  anything  greater  than 
is  in  them,  in  her  best  compositions  she  produces  only 
emphatic  chatter.  I  regard  Chilteaubriand  as  the  manikin 
of  her  species.' 

Had  matters  been  carried  a  little  farther,  we  might 
have  had  another  Elle  et  Lui  and  Lid  et  Elle  scandal. 
If,  as  is  generally  snpposed,  she  was  the  heroine  of 
Benjamin  Constant's  '  Adolphe,'  she  was  not  easily 
rebuffed  or  wearied  out ;  and  we  find  her  aiiain  invitiu<>' 

'  Do 

the  attentions  of  Gentz  in  1815  : 

'  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  promise  me  a  day  to  compensate 
me  for  that  which  deprives  me  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington. 
Would  Friday  suit  you  ?  and  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  inform 
M.  de  Humboldt  of  your  decision  ?  W^e  should  be  too 
numerous,  if  I  brought  together  all  those  of  my  friends  wiio 
are  ambitious  to  make  your  acquaintance ;  and  you  will 
])refer  conversing  en  petit  coiaite.'' 

On  the  18th  of  February,  1809,  Gentz  received  a 
letter  from  Count  Stadion  recaUing  him  to  Vieinia. 
1I(;  aiiivcd  tliere  on  tlie  21st,  and  the  same  evening  had 
a  long  (•()iirurence  with  the  minister.  The  war  was 
decided,  and  he  was  innnediately  set  to  work  on   llie 


FEEDERIC    VON    OKXTZ.  103 

manifesto,  which  was  completed  on  I  lie  oOtli  of  March, 
.  and  warmly  commended.  The  same  day  lie  began  tlie 
translation  of  it  into  French.  The  Austrians  had  their 
usual  luck;  on  the  lotli  of  May  their  capital  was 
again  occupied  by  the  French  ;  and  Gentz  was  once 
more  a  fugitive  in  strangely  mixed,  highly  distinguished, 
and  extremely  interesting  society,  by  which  he  was 
courted  and  flattered  to  the  top  of  his  bent.  From  his 
notes  of  wdiat  passed  at  head-quarters  and  about  tlie 
Court,  it  would  appear  that  the  person  chiefly  to  blame 
for  this  fresh  catastrophe  was  the  Emperor  (Francis  I. 
of  Austria),  who  was  constantly  imposing  his  confined 
views  and  obstinate  will  on  his  counsellors,  no  matter 
what  their  standing,  reputation,  or  apparent  inde- 
pendence of  control.  It  has  been  truly  and  pointedly 
remarked,  that  durino;  his  lono:  reii^n — from  1792 
to  1835 — he  was  what  Georw  III.  would  have  been 
without  a  Parliament.  Stadion  complained  to  Gentz 
in  the  bitterest  terms  of  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
been  forced  to  act  against  his  confirmed  convictions, 
and  then  made  responsible  for  the  very  policy  he 
had  deprecated.  Whilst  the  question  of  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  war  was  still  pending,  he  refused  to  be 
compromised  any  further,  and  (September  26th)  handed 
over  the  portfolio  of  foreign  afFairs  to  Metternich,  wno 
remarked  on  accepting  it,  '  This  is  the  tliird  time  we 
make  peace  in  the  midst  of  a  ministerial  interregnum, 
whilst  Bonaparte  changes  neither  system  nor  instru- 
ments, and  pursues  his  course  without  a  jar.'  A  day 
or  two  before,  Gentz  wrote  to  a  correspondent : — 

'  If  you  ask  me  who  is  minister  for  foreign  affairs,  I  should 
be  puzzled  to  tell  you,  though  I  pass  my  life  with  the  two 
men  between  whom  he  must  be  sought.  There  are  moments 
when  one  would  be  thought  to  be ;  moments  when  the 
other ;  moments  when  neither ;  moments,  again,  when 
both ;  moments,  lastly,  when  nobody.  This  is  the  exact 
truth.  Neither  Metternich  nor  Stadion  knows  who  has 
actually  drawn  up  the  credentials  of  T^iohtenstein  ! ' 


101  FREDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ. 

The  scene  of  these  events  Avas  Dotis ;  and  great 
allowance  must  be  made  for  the  terrible  position  of  the 
Imperial  family,  stunned  and  confounded  by  disaster 
and  defeat.  Till  compelled  to  take  part  in  their  dis- 
tracted counsels,  Gentz  bore  his  exile  philosophically 
enough.  At  Havart,  in  Hungary,  a  wretched  place, 
which  he  thought  safer  than  Buda  or  Pesth,  he  says  : — 
'  I  lived  almost  exclusi\ely  with  Sallust,  Tacitus, 
Seneca,  aud  Lucretius.  By  accident,  the  posthumous 
historical  work  of  Fox  fell  in  my  way,  which  I  read 
and  commented  with  great  indignation.'  There  also 
he  began  a  translation  of  '  Burke's  Letters  on  a  Eegicide 
Peace.' 

At  a  long  subsequent  period,  when  the  Emperor 
Francis,  who  never  much  liked  Gentz,  w^as  induced 
by  a  sense  of  his  services  to  offer  him  a  higher 
title,  he  refused,  saying,  he  was  content  to  be  called 
the  friend  of  Metternich.  It  is,  therefore,  curious  to 
mark  from  what  slender,  and  even  adverse,  begin- 
nings this  prized  and  cherished  friendsliip  sprang. 
When  Metternich's  appointment  was  confirmed,  Gentz 
resolved  to  leave  Dotis,  saying  :  — 

'  I  shall  never  pardon  him  the  indifference  and  levity  with 
which  he  sees  Count  Stadion  depart,  and  the  confidence, 
truly  shocking,  with  which  he  undertakes  so  terrible  a  task 
as  that  of  the  direction  of  affairs  at  this  moment.  I  Avill 
not  even  nourish  the  suspicion  that  he  has  contributed  in 
any  manner  to  this  scandalous  reverse  of  Stadion  :  his  osten- 
sible conduct  is  enough.' 

He  afterwards  fully  acquits  Metternich  of  this 
imputation,  which  was  clearly  unfounded  ;  nor  does 
any  ground  appear  for  Metternich's  refusal  which 
would  not  have  been  equally  ap])licable  to  any  otlier 
attached  servant  of  the  monarchy.  Gentz 's  opinion 
becomes  more  favourable  on  hearing  Metternich's  own 
defence  of  his  conduct,  and  he  comes  round  altogether 
afier  a  long  conversation  on  finance  : — 


FREDERIC    VOX    OEXTZ.  105 

'  He  (M.)  is  decidedly  opposed  to  the  idea  of  meddling 
with  ecclesiastical  property.  He  has  developed  to  me  in 
this  respect  very  sound  and  very  respectable  principles  :  he 
is  persuaded  that  all  the  moral  strength  of  the  Austrian 
monarchy  is  to  be  found  in  its  being  regarded  by  the  world 
as  the  centre  and  rallying  point  of  all  that  is  left  of  ancient 
principles,  of  ancient  forms,  of  ancient  sentiments  ;  and  that 
it  is  this  idea  which,  so  long  as  it  can  be  maintained,  will 
always  give  a  large  number  of  powerful  allies  to  Austria. 
This  conversation  lias  entirely  reconciled  me  to  Metternich, 
against  whom  I  had  great  complaints  at  the  epoch  of  the 
peace.' 

It  is  certainly  a  plausible  defence  of  tlie  reactionary 
policy  for  wliicli  Metternich,  justly  or  unjustly,  has 
been  made  responsible.  '  It  is  not  possible,'  remarks 
Gentz,  soon  afterwards,  '  that  the  defects  of  his 
cliaracter  should  altogether  spoil  the  just  and  wise 
views  with  which  he  starts  for  Paris.'  In  summing  up 
tlie  constitution  and  prospects  of  the  government  at 
the  end  of  1810,  he  says  : — 

'  Foreign  affairs  are  not  absolutely  bad  in  the  hands  of 
Count  Metternich.  He  thinks  himself  fortunate  :  this  is  an 
excellent  quality.  He  has  resources  ;  he  has  savoir-faire ; 
he  does  not  spare  himself  personally.  But  he  is  frivolous, 
dissipated,  and  presumptuous.  If  his  star  seconds  hi^ 
diu'ing  some  years,  he  can  take  and  give  the  state  a  very 
suitable  position.  But  beware  of  new  crises.  They  will 
overthrow  him  ;  and  (thaaks  to  the  radical  view)  he  is  as 
difiScidt  to  replace  as  Count  O'Donnell.' 

On  the  23rd  of  June,  1810,  Gentz  records,  with 
allowable  complacency,  his  reception  at  To[)litz  by  the 
Empress,  the  Emperor's  third  wife,  who,  amongst  other 
ilattering  speeches,  said,  coupling  him  \\dth  Goethe  of 
Avhom  she  had  just  before  seen  a  good  deal  at  Carlsbad, 
'  It  is  not  given  to  all  to  write  like  you,  and  yet  be  able 
to  talk  so  clearly  and  naturally  with  every  one.' 

'  In  the  following  August  arrives  the  Princess  of  Solms, 
afterwards  Duchess  of  Cumberland,  to  my  taste,  the  most 


lOG  FREDERIC    VOX    GENTZ. 

beautiful  womau  my  eyes  ever  alighted  on,  in  everybody's 
opinion  one  of  the  most  amiable.  She  was  now  the  sun 
towards  which  my  gaze  was  directed.  ...  To  this  day 
(after  sixteen  years)  my  soiJ  swells  when  I  think  of  this 
duchess,  and  the  goodwill  with  which  she  rewarded  my 
honest  homage  I  still  reckon  as  one  of  the  fairest  adorn- 
ments of  my  life.' 

Currency  and  maritime  laws  were  the  subjects, 
uncongenial  as  they  may  be  thought,  with  which  he 
occupied  the  hours  not  devoted  to  high-born  beauty ; 
and  he  treated  both  in  a  manner  to  command  great 
weight  and  attention,  if  not  universal  approval,  for  his 
views.  He  drew  up  several  papers  on  finance  for  the 
English  ministry,  who,  considering  probably  that  what- 
ever they  paid  for  was  their  own,  quietly  took  credit 
for  his  reasonings  and  researches.  Not  so  the  Austrian 
financiers,  who  openly  consulted  liim  as  the  highest 
authority  in  this  branch  of  domestic  policy,  and,  so  far 
as  the  pecuniary  embarrassments  of  the  empire  per- 
mitted, attempted  to  carry  out  his  principles. 

We  now  pass  on  to  the  autumn  of  1813,  to  the  eve 
of  one  of  those  emergencies  which  invariably  summoned 
Gentz  from  the  library  or  the  drawing-room,  like 
Cincinnatus  from  the  plough.  War  was  in  the  wind  ; 
and  he  was  wanted  for  the  manifesto,  which,  having 
had  early  notice  from  Metternich  of  the  probability  of 
its  being  needed,  he  had  completed  on  the  11th  of 
August :  war  having  been  declared  on  the  lOtli 
at  midnight. 

It  was  read  over  and  settled  on  the  very  evening  of 
its  completion,  and  pubhshed  on  the  17th.  In  token 
of  the  general  approval,  the  Emperor  Alexander,  who 
arrived  at  Prague  on  the  15th,  presented  him  with  a 
diamond  ring,  the  fourth  or  fiftli  he  liad  received  ironi 
the  Eussian  Emperor,  who  luid  a  peculiar  fancy  for 
giving  rings.  Here  he  breaks  out  in  a  strain  whicli 
contrasts  strikingly  witli  his  review  of  his  position  at 


FREDERIC    VON    GEXTZ.  107 

Vicuna  in  1811,  when,  [)ailly  owing  to  ill-health  and 
partly  to  the  marriage  of  Maria  Louisa  and  Napoleon, 
he  was  sunk  in  the  lowest  depths  of  despondency : 

'  INIy  position  in  Prag'ue  was  one  of  the  pleasantest  and 
most  interesting^  iinaf;ina])le.  I  was  now  for  several  months 
tlie  medium  of  all-important  political  relations  between 
Vienna  and  liead-cpiarters,  the  channel  of  all  authentic  news, 
the  middle  point  of  all  diplomatists  and  all  diplomacy.  All 
went  as  I  could  wish  :  my  health  had  become  excellent,  my 
name  great.     I  had  more  money  than  enough.' 

The  women  then  played  an  important  part  in  public 
life,  as  they  always  must  where  the  conduct  of  affairs 
is  withdrawn  from  popular  control  and  vested  in  indivi- 
duals, whether  princes,  priests,  ministers  or  generals ;  and 
he  says  he  must  fairly  own  that  he  '  learnt  a  great  deal 
from  the  quick-sighted  and  intriguing  Princess  Bagra- 
tion,  the  enthusiastic  but  excellent  Countess  Wrbna, 
and  the  restless  but  clear-seeing  Duchess  of  Sagan.'  ^ 

On  the  22nd  of  October,  the  news  of  the  battle  of 
Leipsic,  w^hich  had  reached  Prague  the  day  before,  was 
confirmed,  and  Gentz  had  the  pleasing  duty  of  ordering 
the  illumination  of  the  town,  and  the  celebration  of  the 
Te  Deum,  according  to  the  laudable  pi-actice  of  Chris- 
tian and  Cathohc  conquerors : — 

'  It  was  a  glorious  moment  for  me.  That  for  which  I  had 
fought  for  twenty  years  seemed  at  last  to  keep  the  upper 
hand.  Circumstances  made  me  one  of  the  first  organs 
which  announced  this  great  reverse  of  fortune  ;  and  the  fall 
of  the  sovereignty  of  the  world,  and  of  the  man  who  stood 
at  its  head,  was  for  me,  if  not  for  every  one,  a  pure  triumph, 
disturbed  by  no  retrospect,  since  I  had  not  only  never 
wavered  in  my  principles  and  sentiments,  but  had  drawn 
upon  myself  the  personal  hatred  of  Napoleon,  as  not  many 
months  before,  on  a  despatch  of  my  composition  falling  into 
his  hands  by  treachery  or  accident,  he  had  openly  avowed.' 

^  This  lady  pushed  the  Protestant  liberty  or  license  of  divorce  to  such 
an  extreme  as  to  be  able  to  play  at  whist  with  three  ex-husbinds,  whilst 
a  fourth  betted  on  her.  In  allusion  to  her  practice  of  pensioning  theua 
o(lj  it  was  said,  '  Elk  sc  ruinc  en  mnrisj 


108  PEEDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ. 

Ill  the  joy  of  liib  heart  he. goes  on  to  expatiate  on 
tile  merits  of  the  various  members  of  his  estabhshmeut, 
especially  on  those  of  the  French  cook,  Bastien,  who 
accompanied  hiin  everywhere.  But  we  must  pass  on 
at  once  to  the  Congress  of  Vienna  in  1814,  where  all 
the  potentates  and  master-spmts  of  the  victorious  side 
were  congregated  in  one  moving  and  ghttering  mass, 
and  where  everything  of  importance  passed  through 
his  hands  or  under  his  immediate  notice. 

The  first  complete  conference  was  attended  by  the 
plenipotentiaries  of  Austria,  Prussia,  England,  France, 
Spain,  Portugal,  Sweden,  and  Eussia.  Whilst  Gentz 
was  amusing  himself  at  a  soiree  at  Madame  Nesselrode's, 
Nesselrode  came  in  and  told  him  they  had  elected  him 
First  Secretary  by  acclamation.  He  had  already  been 
employed  to  draw  up  a  dechiration  for  the  four  great 
powers, 'England,  Eussia,  Austria,  and  Prussia  ;  and  he 
now  took  an  active  share  in  their  deliberations,  besides 
discharging  the  proper  duties  of  his  post.  It  seems, 
also,  to  be  an  understood  thing-  that  he  should  act  as 
penman  to  any  of  them  who  had  any  proposition  to 
make  or  line  of  policy  to  urge  ;  the  (jrands  seupieurs  of 
the  period  not  being,  })erhaps  luckily  for  some  of  them, 
so  ready  with  the  pen  as  their  successors.  Thus  he 
was  at  w^ork  on  a  discourse  to  be  addressed  by  Count 
Herbertstein  to  Count  Stadion  in  introducing  him  to 
the  Chamber.  Stadion,  hearing  of  it,  writes  him  ajoli 
billet,  requesting  to  see  it,  and  begs  liim  to  compose 
the  reply,  which  he  does.  Besides  writing  a  paper  on 
the  slave-trade  for  Castlereagh,  he  translates  his  lord- 
ship's letter  on  the  affair  of  Saxony  into  French,  and 
gives  a  memorable  proof  of  his  independence  by  openly 
supporting  it  against  his  chief  patron  :  — 

'■February  12. — At  nine  o'clock  with  jNIetternich.  In 
translating-  Castlereagh's  letter  I  felt  my  ideas  cleared  and 
strengtliened.  At  four  at  Talleyrand's,  Conversation  in 
wliicli    he    does    me    the    most    signal   justice.       Dined    at 


FREDERIC    VOX    fiE.VTZ.  109 

Metternicli's  with  Wessenberg.  After  dinner,  between  seven 
and  eight  in. the  evening,  I  bring  on  the  most  important 
discussion  on  Castlereagh's  letter,  and  hold  to  Metternich 
(witli  Wessenberg  for  witness)  the  most  energetic  language 
lie  ever  heard  from  me.  This  day  is  one  of  the  most  mark- 
ing (rnarqiums)  in  the  history  of  my  public  life :  it  will  be 
perhaps  la  plus  beau  of  my  life.' 

Besides  doing  him  signal  justice  in  words,  wliicli  cost 
the  speaker  nothing,  Talleyrand,  before  the  Congress 
broke  up,  presented  him  with  22,000  florins,  in  the 
name  of  Louis  XVIII.,  which  is  duly  entered  as  a 
'  magnificent '  donation.  From  Lord  Castlerea<Tli  he 
received  (tiirough  Cooke)  GOO/,  in  ducats,  and  les  plus 
folks  pro  messes. 

Numerous  entries  give  evidence  of  the  female  in- 
fluence to  which  allusion  has  been  made,  and  tlie 
manner  in  which  the  public  interests  were  intermingled 
witlr  private  by  the  select  few  who  had  charged  them- 
selves with  the  re-settlement  of  Europe  : — 

'^ September  12. — Went  to  Prince  Metternich;  long  con- 
versation with  him,  not  (unhappily)  on  public  affairs,  but 
on  his  and  my  relations  with  ^Madame  de  Sagan.' 

It  would  seem  that  this  lady  inclined  to  the  doctrine 
of  a  plurality  of  admirers,  as  well  as  a  quick  successiai 
of  husbands.  Two  days  after  the  discussion  of  Castle- 
reagh's letter,  we  find  : — 

'  14. — Eeturned  to  Metternich  ;  conversation  with  him — 
alas  !  on  the  unhappy  liaison  with  la  Windischgnitz,  wliich 
appears  to  interest  him  still  more  than  the  affairs  of  the 
world.' 

'  22. — Dined  with  Metternich  at  Nesselrode's.  M.  informs 
me  of  his  detinitive  rupture  with  the  Duchess,  which  is  at 
present  an  event  of  the  first  order.' 

Here  follows  a  specimen  of  a  busy,  if  not  exactly  a 
w^ell-spent,  day  of  rest : — 

'  Sunday,  Nou.  6. — Went  out  at  ten.     Conversations  of 


110  FREDERIC   VOX   GEXTZ. 

different  kinds  with  ]Mettemicb.  Eeturned  at  midday. 
Count  Clam,  long  talk  vjith  him  on  his  neiu  2>cission  for 
Dorothee  {Madame  de  Perigord).  Visit  of  the  Due  de 
Campo  Chiaro,  and  sustained  conversation  with  him.  At 
four  at  tlie  Princess  Bagration's  ;  very  remarkable  conversa- 
tion with  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  his  projects,  his  conduct,  &c. 
Dined  at  Metternich's  with  Wenzel,  Liclitenstein,  Binder, 
Xeiunann,  &c.  Long  conversation  ivith  him  on  his  affairs 
of  the  heart.  At  eight  at  Nesselrode's  ;  M.  de  Stein,  who  is 
cold  to  me  ;  the  famous  Greneral  Laharpe,  who,  in  a  conver- 
sation with  Pozzo  and  me,  betrays  his  bad  principles  witli- 
out  reserve.  Returned  home  at  half-past  ten,  and  worked 
at  a  despatch  for  Bukarest.' 

'  Friday  1 1  th. — Visit  to  the  King  of  Denmark — talked 
an  hovu-  with  him.  Then  Metternich  ;  long  conversation, 
constantly  turning  more  on  the  confounded  ivomen  than 
on  business.'' 

'  IZth. — Went  out  at  eleven.  At  JMetternich's.  Returned. 
At  half-past  one  at  Talleyrand's.  From  three  to  four, 
curious  conversation  with  the  Duchess  of  Sagan  on  her 
fatal  history  with  Metternich.  Dined  at  Count  BernstorflPs. 
Clam  with  me.  At  eight,  general  conference  at  Metternich's. 
Fate  of  Genoa  decided.  Returned  at  eleven,  and  worked  at 
the  proces-verbal  till  two  in  the  morning.' 

High  play  went  on  almost  niglitly,  the  foshionable 
game  being  ombre  ;  but  literature  was  not  entirely  lost 
siglit  of  by  this  gay  and  agitated  throng  ; 

'  Dined  at  Metternich's  with  Mme.  Julie  Zichy,  Mme.  de 
Wrbna,  la  Princesse  Therese,  Mme.  de  Fuchs,  Werner, 
Schlegel,  &c.  After  the  dinner  Werner  read  the  first  acts 
of  his  tragedy  of  Gonigonde.'' 

The  picture  would  be  incomplete  without  a  practical 
joke  or  two,  to  lighten  the  labours  of  the  plenipoten- 
tiaries. At  a  dinner  at  the  Duchess's,  the  conversation, 
'  very  free,'  turned  on  the  demoiselles  H.  ;  and  tlie 
merriment  was  much  enhanced  on  learning,  after  the 
departure  of  one  of  the  party,  Count  Coronini  de  Carin- 
l1iia,  Ihaf    lie  was    cii'ja'^cd    to   one   of  them.       In   tlie 


FREDERIC   VOX    GEXTZ.  Ill 

course  of  the  evening  Gentz  received  a  written  chal- 
lenge, as  from  the  Count,  to  figlit  the  next  clay.  Tlie 
forgery,  though  suspected,  was  not  discovered  until  tlio 
following  morning,  and  Gentz's  irritation  was  increased 
by  a  heavy  loss  tlie  same  evening  at  play. 

In  the  summary  of  the  year  he  states  that  his  extra- 
ordinary receipts  in  the  course  of  it  had  amounted  to 
at  least  17,000  ducats,  besides  his  regular  official 
income  of  about  9,000  florins,  and  the  ])rofits  of  his 
agency  for  Wallachia,  obtained  for  him  by  Metternich 
in  1813.  'The  result  is  that  all  branches  of  my 
domestic  economy  are  flourishing  :  I  have  paid  many 
debts  :  I  have  completed  and  embellished  my  estab- 
lishment ;  and  I  have  been  enabled  to  do  a  great  deal 
of  good  for  my  people.  The  aspect  of  public  affairs 
is  mournful ;  but  not,  as  at  other  times,  by  the  im- 
posing and  crushing  weight  suspended  over  our  heads, 
but  by  the  mediocrity  and  folly  of  almost  all  the 
actors ;  and  as  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with, 
the  intimate  knowledge  of  this  pitiable  com^se  and  of 
all  those  paltry  creatures  who  govern  the  world,  far 
fi'om  afflicting  me,  is  a  source  of  amusement,  and  I 
enjoy  the  spectacle  as  if  it  was  given  express  for  my 
idle  moments.'  ^ 

Swift,  who  had  mixed  on  the  same  terms  with  the 
governing  class,  gave  up  his  '  History  of  England,'  ex- 
chuming  :  '  I  have  found  them  all  such  a  pack  of 
rascals,  I  would  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  them.' 
But  Swift  was  a  disappointed  man,  and  Gentz  was  not. 

The  rest  of  the  published  day-books  includes  only 
portions  of  foiu"  months  in  1819,  July,  August,  Sep- 
tember, and  December ;  very  important  months  for 
Germany  and  Gentz's  reputation,  since  the  Carlsbad 
Congress  dates  from  them,  and  attempts  have  been 
made  to  fasten  on  him  the  responsibility  of  its  un- 
j^opular    resolutions.      A   spirited    defence   has   beeu 


112  FREDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ. 

puljli:5hcd  by  Jo:^epll  Geiitz,^  a  relative  ;  but  it  was 
needless,  for  no  one  now  doubts  that  Gentz  acted  con- 
scientiously, in  strict  accordance  with  liis  avowed  and 
confirmed  principles.  If  there  was  a  man  in  the  world 
whom  he  reverenced  more  than  another,  whose  good 
opinion  he  was  most  anxious  to  secure,  it  was  Adam 
Milller,  with  whom  he  was  in  daily,  almost  hourly, 
communication  whilst  he  w\as  employed  on  the  famous 
thii'teentli  article  of  the  Bundesakt.  The  controversy 
raised  by  it  could  not  be  made  intelligible  to  English 
readers  without  digressing  widely  into  fields  where 
they  would  be  loth  to  follow  ;  and  we  can  take  only  a 
cui'sory  glance  at  the  rest  of  Gentz's  public  or  political 
career,  although  his  energy  and  industry  never  flagged, 
and,  independently  of  his  unpublished  official  labours, 
we  could  point  to  printed  papers  from  his  pen  on  every 
prominent  question  of  European  interest  from  1819  till 
1832.  How  he  continued  to  be  regarded  by  contem- 
poraries, we  learn  from  such  indications  as  a  passage 
in  Chateaubriand's  '  Congres  de  Verone,'  who  states 
that,  on  accepting  the  portfolio  of  foreign  affau's  in 
1822,  besides  the  usual  letters  to  foreign  ministers,  he 
addressed  '  un  mot  particulier  '  to  M.  Gentz,  knowing 
his  influence  with  Metternich,  and  knowing  also  that 
tlie  principal  '  contrarieU '  would  come  from  the 
Cabinet  of  Vienna.  This  mot  particulier  begins  : — 
'  Me  voila  ministre.  Monsieur.  M.  le  Prince  de 
Metternich  vous  communiquera  peut-etre  la  lettre  oil 
j'ai  rhonneur  de  lui  mander  tout  le  detail.  Maintenaiit 
ne  m'abandonnez  pas  :  je  suis  sur  la  breche.' 

Gentz  was  assailed  as  reactionary,  and  he  was  so  in 
one  sense  ;  for  from  tlie  time  when  (to  borrow  tlie 
beautiful  metaphor  of  Canning)  '  the  spires  and  turrets 

'  Friedrich  rieiitz  und  die  heutige  Politik.  Vou  Josef  Gentz.  Zweite 
Aiiila^^e.     Wicn:  l^fJl. 

I'cbcr  die  Tiiij-cbiiclier  von  Friedrich  Gontz  und  p:oi:>on  Varnliagen's 
Nadiwort.  (lOiii  Xaclitrafr  zu  dor  ScliriCt  'Friedrich  Gentz  und  die 
heiilige  J'dlilik.')     Von  JijoO.''Gfiilz.     \N'i(_'n  :   It^lil. 


FREDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ.  113 

of  ancient  establishments  began  to  reappear  above  the 
subsiding  wave',  he  was  tremblingly  alive  to  signs  in 
tlie  political  horizon  which   threatened  a  return  of  the 
deluge.     The  French  Eevolution  of  1830  startled  him  ; 
but  he  was  amongst  the  first  to  deprecate  a  recurrence 
to  the  fatal  com-se  pursued  by  Germany  in  1793,  and 
to  point  out  that  there  was  nothing  menacing  to  the 
peace  of  the  world  in  the  change  of  dynasty  in  France. 
His  multifarious  correspondence  also  bears  testimony 
to  his  large  views,  as  w^ell  as  to  his  vast  knowledge, 
especially  his  letters  to  Adam  Mliller.     Persons  of  chs- 
tinction,  from  all  quarters  of  the  world,  press  eagerly 
for  his  opinion  on  the  subjects  which  interest  them. 
Thus,  the  late  Earl  Stanhope,  a  very  clever  and  accom- 
pUshed  nobleman,  keeps  him  fully  informed,  at  inter- 
vals from  1825  to  1828,  of  the  changes  in  the  English 
ministry  as  well  as  the  leading  measures  before  Parlia- 
ment, and  earnestly  presses  for  his  ad\dce.^      Goethe 
begs  him  to  employ  his  influence  wdth  his  powerful 
friends  to  forward  a  hterary  object,  and  gracefully  re- 
calls the  period  when  they   '  conversed  in  the  most 
cultivated  society  on  the  affairs  of  the  heart  and  mind.' 
Alexander  and  William  Humboldt  write  frequently. 
But  space  compels  us  to  confine  ourselves  to  the  cor- 
respondence with  Eahel,  in  which  Gentz  pours  out  hiT 
whole  soul  with  the  openness  and  felicity  of  expression 
which  are  traditionally   stated   to  have  made  him  so 
fascinating  a  talker. 

Her  husband's  handwriting  was  the  clearest  and 
neatest  ever  seen,  not  excepting  Porson's  or  Mrs, 
Piozzi's.^  Hers  was  all  but  illegible ;  and  we  note  the 
fact  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  attach  importance  to 

^  Earl  Stanhope's  letters  are  written  in  German,  and  begin  '  My  dear 
and  honoured  friend.'  The  couipletest  collection  of  Gentz's  fugitive 
writings  we  are  acquainted  with,  was  made  by  his  Lordship,  and  is  now 
in  the  library  at  Chevening. 

"^  The  character  and  social  position  of  Rahel,  wife  of  Vambagen  von 
Ense,  are  described  in  the  Essay  on  Salons. 
VOL.    1.  I 


114  FREDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ. 

penmansliip  as  an  indication  of  character.  '  Since  I 
often  read  3'onr  letter  of  Marcli,'  writes  Geutz,  '  I  have 
copied  it,  to  get  over  the  torment  of  your  bad  liand- 
writing,  and  preserve  the  enjoyment  miirapaired:  I 
now  copy  all  yonr  letters.'  Yet  they  were  not  love- 
letters  :  at  least  not  what  Germans  call  love-letters ;  for 
they  might  pass  for  snch  in  most  other  countries,  and 
may  be  compared  in  this  respect  to  a  celebrated  poem 
by  a  gifted  lady  beginning,  '  I  cannot  love  thee,'  and 
containing  some  tolerably  significant  assurances  that 
she  could.  On  the  21st  of  September,  1810,  he  writes : — 

'  It  has  really  been  an  endless  mistake, — shall  I  say  of 
ours  or  Nature's  ? — that  we  never  arrived  at  love  for  each 
other, — I  mean  to  ordinary  complete  love.  A  relation 
would  have  burst  fortli  between  us,  the  like  of  which  the 
world  has  had  but  few.  Instead  of  this,  we  have  both  of 
us  wasted  our  best  on  people  (Leute),  as  you  distinguish 
this  class ;  and  are,  each  in  a  way,  impoverished.  You 
stood  higher,  saw  more  freely  and  farther,  than  I.' 

Byron  would  not  have  thought  it  a  mistake  : 

*  No  frieud  like  to  a  woman  man  discovers, 
So  that  they  have  not  been  nor  may  be  lovers.' 

Then,  with  a  rare  frankness  and  self-knowledge,  Gentz 
goes  on  to  attribute  his  constant  slowness  or  incapacity 
to  seize  the  goods  the  Gods  provided  him  to  '  the 
meanest  of  all  human  knaveries,  namely,  vanity,  the 
stu})id  striving  fur  appearances,  which  cheats  us  out  of 
all  true  enjoyment,  out  of  the  entire  genuine  reality  of 
life.'  We  shall  presently  find  Eahel  valuing  Gentz  for 
his  childhke  betrayal  of  his  weakness,  as  when  he 
writes  :  '  Now,  I  beg  of  you,  love,  to  write  soon  again, 
and  soon  again  to  flatter  me  in  your  heavenly  way. 
Your  flatteries  are  a  true  volui)tuous  soul-bath,  out  of 
which  one  comes  refreshed  and  strengthened.'  Most 
people  would  expect  him  to  come  out  enervated ;  j^et 
there  are  women  who  by  applauding  what  is  public- 
spirited,  by  sympathising  with  what  is  noble  and  ele- 


FREDERIC   YON    GENTZ.  115 

vating,  really  brace  the  nerves  of  the  author,  the  artist, 
the  orator,  the  statesmaD,  the  patriot,  or  the  philan- 
thropist, for  his  allotted  task.  Steele  said  of  Lady- 
Elizabeth  Hastings  that  to  love  her  was  a  hberal  edu- 
cation. At  all  events  the  taste  for  flattery  from 
female  hps  is  not  a  very  uncommon  nor  a  very  cul- 
pable one, '  Vousfiattez^  coquine  iiiais  n'importe,  Jlattez ; 
toujours :  dest  bien  m/reable.'  Gentz,  too,  was  all 
made  up  of  sensibility  and  nervousness — a  complete 
conductor  of  electricity,  as  he  says  somewhere — 
an  Eolian  harp,  which  trembled  at  every  passing 
breeze  ;  and  much  of  the  ftmcy  and  feeling  that  light 
and  warm  his  style  may  be  traced  to  his  susceptibility 
to  temporary  impressions  : 

*  They  were  but  the  wind  passing  carelessly  over, 
And  all  the  wild  sweetness  they  waked  was  his  own.' 

He  writes  toEahel  in  1815  : — '  That  is  the  true  Eau 
de  Portugal^  classic  in  form  and  substance.  Scents  are 
an  important  circumstance  in  life.'  '  I  am  well ;  God 
be  thanked.  (What  happiness  ! !)  I  am  living  alter- 
natively in  Baden  and  Vienna.  I  breakfast  alterna- 
tively on  brioches^  with  excellent  butter,  or  other  god- 
hke  eatables.  I  have  got  furniture  at  which  the  hearty 
leaps,  and  am  less  afraid  of  death.'  He  has  been  known 
to  remonstrate  very  seriously  wdtli  Metternich  on  the 
neghgence  of  his  cook,  and  the  tendency  of  a  bad 
dinner  to  impair  the  mental  powers,  and  impede,  in- 
stead of  '  lubricating,'  business.  '  Des  Jleurs  et  des 
livres^  voila  tout  ce  quit  faiit  a  ma  vie,'  exclaims 
Madame  de  Eoland,  who,  if  she  was  not  belied,  re- 
quired a  few  accessories.  But  Gentz,  in  failing  health, 
found  his  chief  solace  in  books  and  flowers.  The  date 
of  one  of  his  letters  runs  thus  : — 

'  Weinliaus,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  from  Vienna,  the  28th 
of  September,  1825.  In  a  room  before  a  large  plate-glasa 
window,   through   which   I  overlook    my   little    garden,   or 

I  2 


116  FREDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ. 

rather  my"  great  bouquet  of  flowers,  as  set  in  a  fi-ame,  in 
a  clear  dark-blue  sky,  and  with  sixteen  degrees  of  beat. 
As  if  you  saw  it ;  is  it  not  ? ' 

'We    find    Lamartine    complaining    that     he     has 
lived  too  fast : — 

'  J'ai  trop  vu,  trop  senti,  trop  aimiS  de  ma  vie.' 

So  Gentz  complains  that  through  his  brain,  over  his 
life,  have  passed  too  many  events,  thoughts,  com- 
binations, works,  men,  destinies,  for  the  memory  to 
grapple  with,  or  for  him  to  dwell  with  pleasure  on  the 
past.  '  I  am,  and  I  was  at  all  times,  condemned  to  the 
Present ;  and  although  all  passions,  nay,  to  a  certain 
degree,  all  unrest  of  desire  and  enjoyment  have 
subsided  in  me,  yet  the  charm  of  the  Present  is  still  too 
strong.'  He  was  an  illustration  of  Lord  Lytton's  new 
organ  or  faculty  of  '  Weight ' ;  and  his  philosophy  of 
enjoyment  might  be  summed  up  in  the  graceful  words 
of  the  late  Mr.  H.  Twiss'  unpublished  song  : — 

'  The  night  has  spread  its  parting  wings 
To  join  the  day  before  it; 
And  as  for  what  the  morning  brings, 
The  morning  mists  hang  o'er  it.' 

Just  after  Kotzebue  had  been  stabbed  by  Sand, 
Gentz  received  a  threatening  letter,  stating  that,  as  he 
was  not  worthy  of  dying  by  tlie  dagger,  poison  had 
been  destined  and  prepared  for  him  :  that  he  had  long 
been  condemned  as  a  traitor  who  had  undermined  the 
freedom  of  his  coimtry.  This  letter  had  a  terrible  effect 
on  him.  He  excused  himself  from  dining  with,  a 
foreign  ambassor,  his  assured  friend,  and  for  a  week 
togetlier  did  not  venture  to  leave  the  house,  and 
hardly  to  eat.  Varnhagen,  who  speaks  of  the  letter  as 
a  mystification,  cites  the  alarm  felt  by  the  victim  as  a 
proof  of  his  nervousness  at  the  approach  of  danger  or 
the  thought  of  pain  ;  but  men  of  liis  temperament  are 
not  necessarily  wanting  in  hrmncss  or  courage,  and  no 
womanly  fear  ^vas  betrayed  by  Gentz  when  he  passed 


FREDERIC    VON   GENTZ.  117 

tliroiigli  the  outposts  of  hostile  armies  to  beard 
Napoleon  in  his  pride. 

He  was  above  the  middle  height,  and  his  features 
indicated  decision  and  self-confidence.  He  was  frank 
to  the  verge  of  imprudence,  and  could  not  dissemble 
or  dissimulate,  if  he  wcmld.  Whenever  he  tried  to 
adopt  the  diplomatic  manner,  he  failed  so  egregiously 
that  a  '  foreign  minister '  (Paget,  we  believe)  said  he 
could  always  tell  at  a  glance  when  Gentz  wanted  to 
delude  or  work  upon  him ;  for  there  was  invariably 
the  same  stolen  sidelook  of  inquiry  and  doubt.  He 
commonly  gave  up  all  attempt  at  reserve  or  con- 
cealment with  a  laugh. 

Few  in  declining  years  would  be  ready,  with 
Fenelon,  to  live  their  lives  over  again  precisely  as  they 
had  lived  them.  Many,  after  playing  '  no  unnoticed 
part,'  would  exclaim  with  James  Smith — 

'  Would  I  resume  it  ?     Oh  !  no- 
Four  acts  are  done — the  jest  grows  stale, 
The  waning  lamps  burn  dim  and  pale, 
And  reason  asks  ad  bono  f ' 

But  a  large  number,  perhaps  the  majority,  would 
leap  at  the  proposal  to  have  back  their  youth,  with  its 
wild  fi'eshness  and  its  buoyancy,  if  they  might  retain 
the  dear-bought  lessons  of  experience —  • 

'Oh,  who  would  not  welcome  that  moment  returning 
When  passion  first  wak'd  a  new  life  through  his  frame, 
And  his  soul,  like  the  wood  that  gi'ows  precious  in  burning, 
Gave  out  all  its  sweets  to  love's  exquisite  flame  ?  ' 

This  boon,  this  blessing  (if  it  be  one),  was  virtually 
vouchsafed  to  Gentz,  who,  in  his  sixty-fifth  year,  was 
suddenly  restored,  as  if  by  immersion  in  Medea's 
caldron  instead  of  the  baths  of  Gastein,  to  exulDerant 
hetdth  and  vigour — moral,  mental,  and  physical — of 
mind,  of  body,  and  of  heart.  The  miracle — for  it 
sounds  hke  one — with  its  memorable  effects,  had 
best  be  read  in  his  own  glomng  language.^     In  a  letter 

^  The  following  exti'acts  from  the  letters  to  Rahel,  are  taken  from  a 
tranj^lation  (uever  published)  of  the  series  by  Mr.  Grote,  the  historian 
of  Greece. 


118  FREDERIC   VOX   GENTZ. 

to  Eahel,  22ik1  September,  1830,  after  apologising  for 
a  '  long,  very  long  '  silence,  he  continues  : — 

*  The  first  commencement  of  this  happy  revolution  arose 
out  of  the  circumstance  that  my  health,  "which  for  fifteen 
years  had  suffered  grievously — not  so  much  by  special 
attacks  of  illness,  as  by  incessant  discomfort  with  the  gout 
— has,  during  the  last  two  years,  experienced  a  regenera- 
tion little  short  of  miraculous.  I  feel  myself  at  present 
thoroughly  well,  and  have  a  keen  sense  of  well-being,  such  as 
I  scarcely  experienced  even  during  the  best  years  of  my  life. 
One  consequence  of  this,  amongst  others,  was,  that  not  only 
has  my  mind  regained  its. entire  youthful  freshness,  and  my 
heart  its  full  susceptibility,  but  also  that  my  person  has 
become  strikingly  rajeuni,  and  all  my  bodily  faculties  are 
again  at  my  disposal.  At  my  time  of  life,  it  is  almost 
ludicrous  to  speak  in  such  terms  of  myself;  but,  as  I  can 
make  the  communication  with  perfect  truth,  since  it  is  made 
to  me  every  day  and  from  every  side  by  others,  why  should 
I  withhold  from  you,  m}^  sympathising  friend,  the  satisfac- 
tion of  hearing  it  from  myself?  I  could  produce  to  you, 
in  support  of  it,  testimonies  from  persons  who  have  not  seen 
me  for  some  time,  which  would  leave  no  doubt  at  all  on 
your  mind.  My  apprehension  of  death,  which  is  well  known 
to  you,  is  on  this  account,  though  not  altogether  effaced,  yet 
still  so  much  cast  in  the  shade  that  it  seldom  assails  me  ;  and 
I  already  begin  tacitly  to  reckon  upon  attaining  at  least  the 
extraordinary  age  of  Bonstetten. 

'  You  will  now  be  somewhat  prepared  to  understand  what 
follows. 

*  Along  with  my  returning  health,  I  have  thrown  myself 
once  more  into  the  world  and  into  social  life,  which  I  had 
for  many  years  renounced.  The  satisfaction  with  which  I 
was  everywhere  received,  proved  to  me  that  I  could  still  very 
well  maintain  my  place  in  this  circle.  My  increasing  re- 
pugnance to  public  business, — though  I  have  never  for  an 
instant  ceased  to  attend  to  it  conscientiously, — my  growing 
fear  of  solitary  study,  which  always  presented  to  me  notliiug 
but  melancholy  conclusions, — have  contributed,  each  in  its 
way,  to  this  change  in  my  manner  of  living.  I  attached 
myself  cliiefly  to  tlie  society  of  women,  wlio  have  always 
been  agreeable  to  me,  and  who  are  at  the  present  day  far 


FREDERIC   VOX    GEXTZ.  119 

above  men — much  more  than  they  were  twenty-five  or  thirty 
years  ago.  I  made  my  court  (as  people  call  it)  to  some  of 
them,  and  procured  for  myself  in  this  way  particular  interest 
among  the  general  range  of  society.  That  I  could  ever  again 
be  in  love,  I  regarded  as  a  thing  impossible,  though  I  never- 
theless felt  that,  to  enjoy  in  perfection  my  renewed  and  re- 
generated existence,  I  ought  to  arrive  once  more  even  at 
this-  extreme  limit.  My  presentiment  has  been  realised  in 
a  most  unexpected  way.  To  you  I  must  and  I  dare  confess, 
what  towards  others  I  content  myself  with  not  formally 
denying,  that  since  last  winter  I  have  borne  in  my  bosom  a 
passion  of  greater  strength  than  any  which  I  ever  felt  during 
my  earlier  life — that  this  passion  was  indeed  accidental  in 
its  origin,  but  that  I  have  since  intentionally  fostered  and 
cherished  it. 

'  You  will  be  astonished — perhaps  horror-stricken — when 
I  tell  you  that  the  object  of  this  passion  is  a  girl  of  nineteen 
years  of  age,  and,  what  is  more,  a  danseuse.  I  require  all 
my  confidence,  not  merely  in  your  good  nature,  but  in  your 
liberality  (in  the  old  and  lofty  sense  of  that  word) — in  your 
exalted  views,  so  much  above  all  that  is  commonplace — in 
your  enlarged  range  of  thought  —  in  your  tolerance — I 
require  all  this  to  obviate  the  apprehension  that  you  will 
at  once  condemn  me  upon  my  own  confession,  witliout  grace 
or  mercy. 

'  Yet  when  I  assure  you  that  the  intercourse  with  this 
girl  has  poured  out  upon  me  a  fulness  of  felicity  such  as^ 
have  never  known  or  felt  before, — that  this  intercourse  has 
been  to  me  not  only  the  counterpoise  of  numerous  anxieties 
imder  which  otherwise  I  should  have  infallibly  succumbed, 
but  also  the  upliolding  principle  of  my  cheerfulness  of 
spirits,  my  healthy  and  my  life — I  think  you  will  be  in- 
clined not  only  to  excuse  me,  but  also  to  admit,  with  your 
usual  enlightened  candour,  that  the  person  who  could  thus 
work  upon  me,  besides  the  unbounded  beauty  by  which  she 
enchains  me,  must  also  possess  other  qualities  which  account 
for  a  relation  such  as  I  have  depicted. 

'  This  person  is  now  in  Berlin.  If  on  other  accounts  you 
happen  still  to  concern  yourself  about  the  Theatre,  you  will 
probably  hear  of  her  ;  but  /  feel  anxious  that  you  should 
see  her  once  or  twice,  if  it  be  only  upon  the  stage.  I  know 
from  other  evidences  that  you  set  a  high  value  upon  the 


120  FREDERIC   VOX   GENTZ. 

external  appearance  of  people,  and  you  are  right  in  doing 
80.  I  am  therefore  anything  rather  than  indifferent  to  the 
impression  which  this  Fanny  may  make  upon  you  ;  and  I 
entreat  you  to  take  an  opportunity  of  writing  to  me  upon 
the  subject. 

'  Togetlier  with  the  sensibility  to  social  amusements,  to 
feminine  beauty,  to  love, — I  still  tremble  when  I  speak  the 
word  aloud,  even  before  you, — there  has  been  newly  revived 
in  me  tlie  sensibility  to  poetry.  I  avail  myself  of  every 
leisure  hour  to  read  poetry — ancient  and  modern — Latin, 
German,  Italian,  French.  How  far  I  have  gone  in  this 
favourite  occupation,  you  shall  judge  by  one  example,  the 
particular  circumstances  of  which  cannot  be  without  interest 
for  you.' 

After  mentioning  how  Heine's  poems  had  fallen  in 
his  way,  and  fascinated  him,  he  proceeds  : 

'  At  this  moment  I  marvel  at  the  courage  which  it  has 
required  to  lay  before  you  such  a  train  of  thoroughly  un- 
expected confessions, — to  tell  you  that  I  feel  myself  rajeuni, 
— that  I  am  in  love, — that  I  adore  a  danaeuse, — and  that  I 
sympathise  with  Heine  I  You  are,  however,  the  only  person 
in  tlie  world  with  whom  I  could  hazard  such  avowals,  nor 
could  I  even  have  hazarded  them  with  you,  unless  this  letter 
were  going  by  an  Austrian  courier  to  Berlin.  Almost  every 
matter  which  it  contains  could  only  be  written  in  the  strictest 
confidence  ;  but  I  was  for  a  long  time  accustomed  to  think 
with  you,  to  feel  with  you,  and  never  to  veil  from  you  even 
my  most  hidden  weaknesses.  If  you,  on  your  side,  have 
remained  the  same, — and  how  can  I  possibly  doubt  it, — 
reward  my  confidence  with  a  letter  in  the  old  well-known 
style,  friendly  or  reproachful,  as  you  please.  Acquaint  me 
at  the  same  time  how  matters  go  on  with  you,  with  your 
health  and  temper,  with  your  temporal  and  eternal  well- 
being.  We  two  ought  never  to  separate  as  long  as  we 
breathe.  Pray  chime  in  with  this  sentiment,  and  appease 
speedily  the  longing  of  your  faithful  friend,  Gentz.' 

Opera-goers  of  mature  years  will  not  need  to  be 
told  wlio  this  wonder-working  Fanny  was,  bnt  a  few 
details  relating  to  her  may  be  welcome  to  a  3'ounger 


FREDERIC    VOiV    GEXTZ.  121 

generation.  The  Opera  at  Vienna  was  small,  and 
hardly  worthy  of  the  Austrian  capital ;  but  it  enjoyed 
a  high  authority  in  the  musical  world,  and  the  ballet 
was  conducted  u]jon  a  scale  that  enabled  it  to  rival  those 
of  Paris  and  Naples.  In  1828-29,  the  leading  dan- 
seuses  were  Fanny  and  Therese  Elsler,  sisters  and 
natives  of  Vienna.  Their  father  had  been  a  familiar 
attendant  for  many  years  on  the  great  composer, 
Joseph  Haydn,  who  left  him  a  considerable  legacy, 
which,  from  no  fault  of  his,  was  soon  reduced  to 
little  or  nothing.  Of  their  mother  we  know  nothing, 
except  that,  bred  up  in  theatrical  company  of  the 
lower  sort,  she  had  no  scruple  in  agreeing  with  her 
husband  to  turn  their  daughters'  personal  attractions 
and  accomplishments  to  the  best  account.  Barbaja, 
the  director  of  the  Opera  at  Naples,  engaged  them 
for  the  San  Carlos  Theatre  when  mere  children,  and 
being  also  director  of  the  Court  Theatre  of  Vienna, 
brought  them  out  at  it  as  soon  as  he  thought  them 
sufficiently  advanced  to  be  produced  with  effect. 
They  created  a  sensation  ;  their  reputation  soon  be- 
came European ;  and  Fanny's  style  of  dancing,  inde- 
pendently of  her  exceeding  loveliness,  was  exactly 
adapted  to  attract  admirers  of  cultivated  taste.  '  Poetry 
put  in  action'  was  not  too  complimentary  a  phrase. 
The  Duke  de  Reichstadt  fell  desperately  in  love  with 
her,  and  might  be  seen  day  after  day  walking  up  and 
down  near  her  lodgings,  in  the  hope  of  a  chance  such 
as  befell  Faust  with  Margaret ;  but  he  was  disappointed, 
and,  although  rumour  has  connected  her  with  his  pre- 
mature death,  they  never  met  in  private  at  all. 

Gentz  was  simultaneously  struck,  and  eagerly  souglit 
an  introduction,  which  was  by  no  means  so  easy  as  may 
be  thought.  There  was,  indeed,  no  '  mother  of  the 
maids '  to  watch  over  the  morals  of  the  '  corps  de 
ballet,'  but  the  theatres  were  under  the  guardianship 
of  a  public  officer,  the  Count  de  Gallenbei'g,  who  was 


122  FREDERIC   YOX   GENTZ. 

in  the  habit  of  inviting  to  his  house  the  performers, 
male  and  female,  who  stood  highest  in  public  esteem  ; 
and  it  was  perfectly  understood  that  any  acquaintance 
beyond  their  own  circle  must  originate  with  him.  For 
some  time  the  Count  refused  to  introduce  Gentz,  either 
to  tantalise  him,  or  to  save  him  from  the  apprehended 
folly ;  but  the  envied  privilege  Avas  at  last  granted,  and 
so  assiduously  followed  up  that  he  at  length  obtained 
exclusive  possession  of  the  prize.  He  was  reputed  rich 
on  the  strength  of  his  prodigal  expenditure  :  he  was 
celebrated :  he  was  the  familiar  companion  of  the 
great ;  and  there  were  other  reasons  why  the  mother 
gave  him  the  preference  over  younger  rivals :  for  lie 
certainly  owed  his  success,  in  the  first  instance,  to  the 
shameless  venality  of  the  mother — and  the  poor  girl 
resigned  herself  to  her  destiny  with  a  sigh.  How  he 
gradually  won  upon  her  may  be  collected  from  his 
letters  ;  and  tlie  enduring  attachment  she  eventually 
contracted  for  him,  when  the  tie  was  once  formed, 
does  credit  to  her  understanding  and  her  heart. 

Two  years  before,  in  reference  to  Eahel's  recom- 
mendation of  some  verses  in  the  Courier  FranqaiSy  he 
said  that  he  had  left  off  reading  verses  for  many  years, 
always  excepting  Virgil,  Horace,  and  Lucan :  that  the 
only  French  poet  he  could  still  endure  was  Racine  ; 
and  that  looking  for  verses  in  a  French  newspaper 
would  be  to  him  like  taking  a  stroll  into  a  pesthouse. 
His  sudden  taste  for  Heine's  '  Buch  der  Lieder,'  there- 
fore, is  not  the  least  striking  feature  of  the  transfor- 
mation. 

The  subject  of  his  love  is  resumed,  after  the  lapse  of 
a  month,  with  the  same  vivirlness  and  intensity  which 
render  us  loth  to  abridge  the  letters  relating  to  it. 
They  form,  in  fact,  the  very  keystone  of  his  character, 
and  contain  many  striking  passages  unconnected  with 
his  passion.  ]3ut  we  can  only  find  room  Ibi'  two  or 
tln-ee  more  : 


FREDERIC    VON   GENTZ.  123 

'  Presburg,  October  18,  1h;}0. 

'  The  best  instructed  among  the  ordinary  people  around 
me  think  and  affirm  (for  my  connection  with  her  is  the 
subject  of  endless  talk  in  the  society  here,  where  I  am  in 
great  favour)  that  I  have  conquered  her  only  by  what  is 
called  my  eloquence.  This  of  itself  would  be  singular 
enough ;  but  still  it  is  very  far  from  being  the  truth.  I 
have  gained  her  singly  and  exclusively  by  the  magical 
power  of  niy  love.  Wlien  she  first  knew  me,  she  neither 
knew  nor  even  conceived  that  there  existed  anywhere  such 
a  love,  and  a  hundred  times  over  she  has  confessed  to  me 
that  I  had  unfolded  to  her  a  new  world  by  the  manner  in 
which  I  behaved  to  her  from  the  very  first  moment,  and 
still  further  by  the  revelation  of  a  love  the  possibility  of 
which  she  had  never  dreamt  of,  and  which  is,  I  must  own, 
neither  frequent  nor  common.  Here  alone  lies  the  wliole 
key  of  the  plienomenon.  You  will  understand,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  that  I  never  was  silly  enough  to  expect  from  her 
a  return  of  passion,  in  the  narrower  sense  of  the  word.  I 
never  imagined  that  she  could  "  fall  in  love  "  with  me,  for 
even  in  the  full  fervour  of  passion  my  reason  does  not 
abandon  me.  It  was  enough  for  me  to  inspire  her  with 
a  sentiment  floating  between  friendship,  gratitude,  and 
love :  and  I  did  in  fact  succeed — for  men  succeed  in  every- 
thing which  they  struggle  for  with  complete  energy  and 
genuine  perseverance — in  so  planting  and  confirming  this 
feeling  in  her  mind,  that  it  by  degrees  filled  her  whole  sdli], 
and  at  this  moment,  unless  all  the  evidences  deceive  me,  it 
cannot  be  supplanted  or  overcome  by  any  other  feeling 
whatever. 

'  Now  imagine  what  it  is,  at  my  time  of  life  and  with  my 
few  remaining  pretensions,  to  see  a  passion  like  mine  thus 
rewarded  ?  Imagine  la  satisfaction  de  V amour-propre, 
from  which  no  human  being  can  disengage  himself,  and 
least  of  all  one  who  takes  as  much  pleasure  in  flattery  as 
you  and  I  do ;  imagine  the  blessedness  of  daily,  undis- 
turbed intercourse  with  a  person  in  whom  everything 
ravishes  me, — who  does  not  require,  in  order  to  produce 
this  effect,  "  to  rise  like  a  complete  Venus  out  of  the  sea," 
as  you  express  it  in  a  divine  phrase  of  your  letter,  which  I 
thoroughly    comprehend — in  whose    eyes,  in    whose    hands 


124  FREDERIC   VOX   GEXTZ. 

(do  you  ever  look  at  them  !),  in  whose  single  and  separate 
charms,  my  mind  can  absorb  itself  for  hours  together — • 
whose  voice  tells  upon  me  like  magic — and  with  whom  I 
carry  on  endless  conversations  which  would  often  astound 
you,  as  I  should  do  witli  the  most  docile  school-girl :  for 
I  educate  her  with  paternal  care,  and  she  is  at  once  my 
beloved  mistress  and  my  faithful  child.  Imagine  this  rich 
stock  of  enjoyments,  and  in  addition  to  it  all,  so  much  more 
which  no  tongue  can  tell,  and  it  will  be  easy  for  you  with 
a  heart  as  comprehensive  as  yours  to  understand  completely 
that  which  to  others  may  still  appear  foolishness.  .  .  . 

'  I  set  a  proper  value  upon  your  diplomatic  talent,  but  I 
must  at  the  same  time  acquaint  you,  that  in  this  case  it 
was  hardly  required.  The  nature  of  my  connection  with 
Fanny  is  so  little  a  secret  at  Vienna  that  it  is  talked  of 
every  day  ;  and  what  contributes  not  a  little  to  my  comfort 
is,  that  those  persons  for  whose  opinion  I  care  the  most — 
amongst  others  Prince  Metternich — never  treat  the  matter 
with  any  other  feeling  tlian  that  of  kindness  and  delicacy. 
There  will  be  no  luar  therefore  on  this  account.' 

Mixed  up  witli  passionate  professions  and  glowing 
})ictures  of  happiness,  we  find  a  curious  piece  of  self- 
criticism,  or  rather  self-laudation : 

'  Really  I  am  not  blinded  by  vanity  upon  this  occasion. 
I  have  entirely  forgotten  that  I  ever  was  an  author ;  and 
for  the  last  twenty  years  I  have  not  looked  at  a  line  of  my 
printed  works,  the  "  Protocols  of  Congress  "  excepted.  A 
little  while  ago,  a  man,  who  reads  very  well,  read  to  me 
aloud  the  preface  of  a  certain  book,  on  the  "  Political 
Balance ; "  and  I  was  altogether  astonished  that  I  could 
ever  have  written  so  well.  Pray  read  this  preface  once 
over,  only  for  a  joke,  and  then  tell  me  yourself  whether 
that  was  not  something  like  a  style.  Sclilegel  has  written 
but  few  pages  whicli  in  point  of  style  will  bear  comparison 
with  it. 

'  It  is  full  time  for  me  to  conclude.  This  is  the  longest 
letter  which  has  come  from  my  pen  for  years  past.  It  will 
give  you  pleasure,  I  know  well.  Reward  me  with  a  speedy 
answer,  for  I  really  languisli  for  one.  To  be  understood  and 
loved  is  the  higlicst  enjoyment  in  the  world,  next  to  that 


FREDERIC    VOX    (JICNTZ.  125 

which  the  geuuine  passion  of  love  aftbrds.  In  our  present 
correspondence  both  are  confounded  in  one.  Forwards ! 
therefore.     God  be  with  you.  Gentz.' 

This  again  recalls  the  Dean  of  St,  Patrick's,  who,  as 
Scott  relates,  '  eviuced  an  unaffected  indifference  for 
the  fate  of  his  writings,  providing  the  end  of  their 
publication  was  answered,'  but  was  once  overheard 
muttering,  after  glancing  over  the  '  Tale  of  a  Tub,' 
'  Good  God !  what  a  genius  I  had  when  I  wrote  that 
book.' 

No  intoxication,  bodily  or  mental,  from  wine,  from 
opium,  or  from  love,  can  last  long  without  periods  of 
depression,  and  these  will  be  most  trying  wliere  tlie 
enjoyment  has  been  greatest : — 

'  Dearly  bouglit  the  hidden  treasure 
Finer  feeling's  can  bestow ; 
Chords  that  vibrate  sweetest  pleasure 
Thrill  the  deepest  notes  of  woe. 

On  January  21,  1831,  he  writes  : — 

'  My  intercourse  with  Fanny  and  her  incomparable  be- 
haviour towards  me,  are  now,  in  truth,  the  only  bright  spots 
in  my  life.  Yet  even  this  tender  and  blissful  connection  is 
insufificient  to  cheer  me  permanently.  There  are  hoiurs  when 
even  in  her  society  I  go  through  the  mournful  experience 
so  beautifully  described  by  one  of  the  greatest  poets — to  fne 
always  one  of  the  most  dangerous  poets  of  antiquity.  I  must 
quote  the  passage  in  Latin  :  Varnhagen  will  translate  it  to 
you.     Of  course  you  know  the  name  of  Lucretius : — 

"  Medio  de  fonte  leporuni 
Surgit  amari  aliquid,  quod  in  ipsis  iioribus  angit." 

"  There  springs  out  of  the  mid-fountain  of  delight  some- 
thing, which  tortm'es  even  amongst  the  flowers  themselves." 
'  When  things  are  come  to  this  pass,  there  is  indeed  good 
reason  for  complaint.  Yet  I  initiate  Fanny  as  little  as  I 
can  into  the  secrets  of  my  distress.  The  more  completely 
she  continues  pure  and  free  from  embarrassment,  the  more 
certain  am  I  to  find  in  her  that  diversion  of  mind  and  re- 
freshment, without  which  I  should  very  shortly  sink  alto- 


126  FREDERIC    VON    GENTZ. 

gether.  But  to  you  and  to  your  clear  head  and  strong  soul, 
I  speak  out  freely.  Whether  you  blame  or  soothe  me,  I 
must  be  a  gainer  by  this.' 

Thinking  it  worse  tlian  useless  to  keep  on  repeating 
that  obviously  wrong  things  are  wrong,  we  have  re- 
frained from  applying  the  befitting  comment  to  the 
many  reprehensible  episodes  of  this  remarkable  man's 
career ;  amongst  whicli  the  absorbing  passion  of  a 
sexagenarian  for  a  girl  of  nineteen,  a  dancer,  must 
undoubtedly  be  ranked.  Besides,  the  busmess  of 
narrators  is  with  events,  and  if  they  turn  aside  to 
l)oint  the  moral,  they  may  weaken  it  by  exciting  a 
rebellious  and  defying  spirit  in  those  whom  they 
assume  to  lead.  In  this  particular  case,  the  blame 
and  ridicule  of  the  incongruity  were  met  half  way 
by  his  avowal ;  and  some  palliation  is  to  be  found 
in  the  state  of  Viennese  manners,  the  toleration  of 
friends,  and  the  fine  qualities  of  the  object,  whose 
youthful  errors  were  mainly  owing  to  her  parents,  whilst 
tke  sterling  virtues  and  respectability  of  her  maturer 
years  are  her  own. 

It  has  been  confidently  asserted  that  the  death  of 
Goethe,  March  22,  1832,  made  a  deep  impression  on 
liim — '  proximus  ardet  Ucalegon  ' — but  an  '  Indian 
summer '  is  fearfully  exhaustive  of  the  sap  of  life  : 
despondency  is  not  unfrequcntly  the  sign  or  forerunner 
of  decay ;  and  if  depressing  occurrences  shortened  his 
life,  they  were  those  which  occurred  in  1830  and 
1831.  He  died  on  June  9,  1832.  'Nous  I'avons 
vu  mourir  doucement,  et  au  son  d'une  voix  qui  lui 
faisait  oublier  celle  du  temps.' ^  Like  Johnson,  he 
dreaded  death :  like  Johnson,  he  met  it  calmly,  and 
ft)Uiid  unexpected  consolation  in  faith  : — 

'  It  is  dreadful  to  meet  old  age  and  death.  No  one  under- 
stood so  well  liow  to  fortify  me  against  them  as  you.     I 

\  Chateaubi'iaud,  '  Congres  do  Verone.' 


FREDERIC    VON    GENTZ.  127 

mean,  to  fortify  me  liiimaiily ;  for  I  am  fartlier  advanced 
in  religion  than  you.  I  fancy  you  have  remained  very 
lieatlienish  ;  which,  amongst  other  things,  clearly  comes  of 
your  blind  love  for  that  heathen  of  heathens,  G-oethe :  I, 
on  the  contrary,  during  the  last  ten  years,  have  become 
thoroughly  Christian,  and  hold  Christianity  to  be  the 
genuine  centre  of  tlie  world.  For  all  that  is  still  youthful 
in  me,  I  have  to  thank  this  beneficial  revolution.' 

This  was  written  to  Kahel  in  1811,  and  he  never 
fell  back  into  unbelief  or  indillerence.  One  evening, 
during  the  later  years  of  his  life,  after  dining  at  the 
Weinberg  with  Baron  de  Prokesch  and  two  other 
friends,  he  accompanied  them  to  Vienna  in  a  carriage ; 
and  so  fascinating  was  his  conversation,  that  on  arriving 
at  the  place  where  they  were  to  separate,  they  stopped 
the  carriage  between  three  and  four  hours  to  listen  to 
him.  The  subject  was  the  immortality  of  the  soul, 
which  he  eloquently  upheld  against  all  tlie  sceptical 
arguments  that  could  be  suggested  or  recalled.  There 
is  a  somewhat  similar  story  of  Windham  passing  half 
the  night  in  the  streets  in  conversation  with  Burke. 

He  died  in  debt ;  and  the  sole  tribute  to  his  memory, 
in  the  way  of  monument,  is  a  simple  tablet  placed  over 
his  grave  by  Fanny  Elsler.  A  fitting  motto  for  it  might 
have  been  taken  from  Goethe's  '  Helena ' — '  Viel  g^ 
schmdht  und  viel  bewundert '  (much  abused  and  much 
admired).  He  had  fairly  earned  both  the  abuse  and 
the  admiration ;  and  a  dispute  wliether  the  good  or 
the  bad  preponderated,  would  be  the  familiar  contest 
about  the  colour  of  the  bi-coloured  shield. 

That  so  little  was  done  for  him  by  liis  most  in- 
fluential friend,  sounds  very  like  a  confirmation  of 
Swift's  remark,  that  great  men  seldom  do  anything 
for  those  with  whom  they  live  in  intimacy ;  ^  but  his 

^  *  They  call  me  nothing  but  Jonathan,  and  I  said  I  believed  thoy  would 
leave  me  Jonathan  as  they  found  me,  and  that  I  never  knew  a  tniuistry 
do  anything  for  those  whom  they  made  companions  of  their  pleasures, 
and  1  believe  you  will  find  it  so;  but  I  care  not.'  (Journal  to  Stelhf 
February  7,  1711.) 


128  FREDERIC    VOX    GEXTZ. 

refusal  of  the  Emperor's  offer  of  a  promotion  which 
was  to  have  included  pecuniary  advantages,  suggests 
a  valid  excuse  for  Metternich,  although  the  refusal 
itself  is  unaccountable.  If  Gentz  expected  to  disarm 
envy  by  a  show  of  humiUty  or  disinterestedness,  his 
ordinary  discernment  of  tlie  springs  of  human  action 
was  at  fault :  people  far  more  readily  forgive  honours 
and  titles  than  social  superiority  and  influence  without 
rank  or  wealth ;  and  his  position  in  the  great  and 
gay  world,  with  nothing  but  his  personal  qualities  to 
show  for  it,  was  precisely  that  which  most  stimulated 
the  malice^  by  w^ounding  the  self-love  of  his  calum- 
niators. The  mercenary  nature  of  his  relations  with 
other  countries  was  of  course  their  most  formidable 
weapon  ;  which  was  blunted  or  parried  by  the  positive 
and  (we  beheve)  well-founded  assertion  that  Metternich 
was  privy  to  all  his  transactions  with  foreign  ministers, 
and  that  foreign  ministers  were  privy  to  his  unreserved 
communications  with  Metternich. 

Extreme  delicacy  in  money  matters  is  of  modern 
growth  amongst  public  men  in  England,  and  forty 
years  since  had  not  taken  root  in  the  despotic  Courts 
of  Europe.  All  servants  of  the  British  crown  are  now 
peremptorily  forbidden  to  accept  gratifications  in  any 
shape  from  foreign  potentates.  The  privilege  of  wear- 
ing foreign  orders  is  obtained  with  difficulty,  and,  con- 
sidering how  frequently  they  are  the  reward  of  char- 
latanr}^,  might  be  advantageously  restricted  within 
still  closer  limits.  Naturally,  therefore,  we  hear  with 
surprise  of  the  Austrian  Government  permitting  a 
public  servant  of  Gentz's  eminence  to  draw  on  foreign 
powers  for  his  chief  nieans  of  subsistence ;  and  the 
notoriety  of  his  so  doing  flings  the  main  responsibility 
uj)on  tliem.  Tliere  was  no  secrecy,  or  pretence  of 
secrecy,  in  tlie  matter :  our  only  precise  knowledge  of 
his  subsidies  is  derived  from  his  abridged  and  corrected 
diaries  ;  and  one  undeniable  fact  in  his  fiivour  is  that 


FREDERIC   VON    GENTZ.  129 

tlic  whole  of  his  surviving  friends  dwell  most  emphati- 
cally on  his  loyalty,  integrity,  and  truthfulness. 

From  the  female  point  of  view,  faults  and  weaknesses 
beccame  merits  and  fascinations.  In  a  letter  after  his 
death  to  Eanke,  Eahel,  after  deploring  the  impossi- 
bility of  conveying  her  precise  impressions  by  words, 
proceeds : 

'  Tlierefore  you  cannot  know  that  I  then,  and  for  that 
very  reason,  loved  my  lost  friend  when  he  said  or  did  some- 
tliino^  downright  childisli.  I  loved  him  for  saying-  be  was 
so  luippy  to  be  the  first  man  in  Prague, — that  all  the  highest 
functionaries,  great  lords,  and  great  ladies,  were  obliged  to 
send  or  come  to  him,  &c. — with  a  laugli  of  transport,  and 
looking  full  into  my  eyes.  Wise  enough  to  be  silent  about 
tliis,  is  every  trained  distorted  animal ;  but  who  lias  the 
self-betraying  soul,  the  childlike  simplicity  of  heart,  to  sjjeak 
it  out  ? 

There  are  many  whom  we  are  obliged  to  praise  piece  by 
piece,  and  they  do  not  find  their  way  into  the  heart  by 
love :  there  are  others,  a  few,  who  may  be  much  blamed, 
but  they  ever  open  the  heart,  and  stir  it  to  love.  This 
is  what  Grentz  did  for  me :  and  for  me  he  will  never  die.' 

Although  this  theory  of  amiability  is  confirmed  by 
Eochefoucauld,  who  maintains  that  we  love  people 
rather  for  their  faults  than  their  virtues,  such  evidenc^ 
to  character  would  weigh  more  with  a  German  than 
with  an  EngHsh  tribunal.  Yet  it  is  by  German  modes 
of  thought  and  conduct  that  German  men  and  women 
must  principally  be  judged.  The  moral  atmosphere 
in  which  they  lived,  with  their  temptations  and 
opportunities,  must  be  kept  constantly  in  view  when 
they  are  arraigned  at  the  bar  of  European  pubhc 
opinion  ;  and  a  purely  English  standard  of  right  and 
wrong  would  obviously  lead  to  unjust  or  uncharitable 
conclusions  when  applied  to  a  Eahel  or  a  Gentz. 


VOL.    I. 


130 


MARIA  EDGEWORTH:  HER  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS. 

Fkom  the  Edinburgh  Heview  for  Oct.  18G7. 

A  Memoir  of  Maria  Edgeworth,  with  a  Selection  from  her 
Letters.  By  the  late  Mrs.  Edgeworth,  edited  by  ber 
Cbildren.     Not  publisbed.     In  3  vols.     1867. 

We  are  afi-aid  of  appealing  so  confidently  to  the  present 
generation,  but  are  there  any  survivors  of  the  last  who 
do  not  habitually  associate  the  name  of  Maria  Edge- 
worth  with  a  variety  of  agreeable  recollections  ? — witli 
scenes,  images,  and  characters  which  were  the  delight 
of  their  youth — ^vith  the  choicest  specimens  of  that 
school  of  fiction  in  winch  amusement  is  blended  with 
utility,  and  the  understanding  is  addressed  simultane- 
ously with  the  fancy  and  the  heart  ?  All  these,  and 
they  must  still  be  many,  will  be  rejoiced  to  hear  that 
a  Memoir  has  recently  been  printed  (though  it  is  as 
yet  unpublished)  which  may  enable  them  to  watch  the 
everyday  life  of  their  old  favourite,  to  peep  into  the 
innermost  folds  of  her  mind,  to  track  her  genius  to 
its  source,  to  mark  the  growth  of  her  powers,  and  fix 
how  much  was  the  gift  of  nature  and  how  much  the 
product  of  cultivation  or  of  art.  For  ourselves,  we 
were  led  by  it  at  once  to  a  reperusal  of  her  works  ;  and 
so  satisfactory  was  the  result,  that  we  earnestly  recom- 
mend a  fresh  or  first  trial  of  them  to  novel-readers 
of  all  ages,  who  are  not  utterly  spoilt  by  Miss  Braddon 
and  Mrs.  Wood. 

Tliere  is  another  reason  for  reverting  to  Miss  Edge- 
worth's  writings  with  unabated  interest,  independently 
of  their  attractiveness.  They  contributed,  more  than 
any  others  that  can  be  named,  towards  the  inaugura- 


HER    TJFE    AND    WRITINGS.  131 

tion  of  that  splendid  era  of  romance  which  besj;an  and 
readied  its  full  effulgence  with  the  author  of 
'  Waverley.'  In  the  General  Pi'cface  to  the  collected 
edition  of  the  Waverley  Novels,  after  alluding  to  the 
two  circumstances  which  led  him  to  this  style  of  com- 
position, Scott  says  ;  '  The  first  was  the  extended  and 
well-merited  fame  of  Miss  Edgeworth,  whose  Irish  cha- 
racters have  gone  so  far  to  make  the  English  familiar 
with  the  character  of  their  gay  and  kind-hearted  neigh- 
bours of  Ireland,  that  she  may  be  truly  said  to  have 
done  more  towards  completing  the  Union  than  perhaps 
all  the  legislative  enactments  by  which  it  has  been  fol- 
lowed up.  Without  being  so  presumptuous  as  to  hope 
to  emulate  the  rich  humour,  pathetic  tenderness,  and 
admirable  tact,  which  pervade  the  works  of  my  accom- 
plished friend,  I  felt  that  something  might  be  attempted 
for  my  own  country  of  the  same  kind  with  that  which 
she  has  so  fortunately  achieved  for  Ireland.' 

Luckily  for  her  father,  and  not  unluckily  for  Miss 
Edgeworth,  their  lives  and  labours  are  so  blended 
and  intertwined  that  her  name  and  memory  cannot  be 
separated  from  his.  They  were  connected  by  ties 
stronger  than  ties  of  blood  :  by  community  of  objects, 
habits,  affections,  and  modes  of  thought.  He  had 
plausible  claims  to  the  title  of  her  literary  parent.  He 
divined  the  natural  bent  of  her  genius,  and  aided  with- 
out forcing  its  development.  He  gave  her  the  most 
bracing  kind  of  education,  moral  and  intellectual ;  the 
groundwork  being  scrupulous  accuracy  of  statement, 
patient  observation,  frankness,  self-knowledge,  and  self- 
respect.  He  made  her  from  early  girlhood  his  com- 
panion and  friend.  He  read  with  her,  wrote  with  her, 
came  before  an  applauding  public  hand-in-haud  w^itli 
her,  and  (we  really  believe  unconsciously)  traded  on 
her.  The  best  description  of  him  in  advanced  years 
is  given  by  Lord  Byron  : — 

'  I  have  been  reading  the   Life  by  himself  and  daughter 

K  2 


132  MArJA    EDGEWORTH: 

of  Mr.  E.  L.  Edgeworth,  the  father  of  the  Miss  Etlgeworth. 
It  is  altogether  a  great  name.  In  1813  I  recollect  to  have 
met  them  in  the  fashionable  world  of  London,  in  tlie  assem- 
blies of  the  hour,  and  at  a  breakfast  of  Sir  Humphry  and 
Lady  Davy's,  to  which  I  was  invited  for  the  nonce.  I  had 
been  the  lion  of  1812  :  Miss  Edgeworth  and  ]Madame  de 
Stael,  with  the  Cossack,  towards  the  end  of  1813,  were  the 
exhibitions  of  the  succeeding  year.  I  thought  Edgeworth  a 
fine  old  fellow,  of  a  clarety,  elderly,  red  complexion,  but 
active,  brisk  and  endless.  He  was  seventy,  but  did  not  look 
fifty — no,  not  forty-eight  even.  I  had  seen  poor  Fitzpatrick 
not  very  long  before — a  man  of  pleasure,  wit,  eloquence,  all 
things.  He  tottered — but  still  talked  like  a  gentleman, 
though  feebly.  Edgeworth  bounced  about,  and  talked  loud 
and  long,  but  he  seemed  neither  weakly  nor  decrepit,  and 
hardly  old. 

'  He  was  not  much  admired  in  London,  and  I  remember 
a  "  ryghte  merrie  "  and  conceited  jest  which  was  rife  among 
the  gallants  of  the  day — viz.  a  paper  had  been  presented  for 
the  recall  of  Mrs.  Slddons  to  the  stage,  to  which  all  men 
had  been  called  to  subscribe.  Whereupon  Thomas  Moore, 
of  profane  and  poetical  memory,  did  propose  that  a  similar 
paper  shoidd  be  subscribed  and  circumscribed  for  the  recall  of 
Mr.  Edgeivorth  to  Ireland.  The  fact  was  everybody  cared 
more  about  her.  She  was  a  nice  little  unassuming  "  Jeannie- 
Deans-looking  body,"  as  we  Scotch  say  ;  and  if  not  handsome, 
certainly  not  ill-looking.  Her  conversation  was  as  quiet  a3 
herself.  One  would  never  have  guessed  she  could  wi'ite  her 
name ;  whereas  her  father  talked,  not  as  if  he  could  write 
nothing  else  but  as  if  nothing  else  was  worth  writing.' 

Moore  denies  all  participation  in  the  '  ryghte  merrie 
jest.'  But  Lord  Byron  himself  is  said  to  have  pro- 
posed a  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Edgeworth.  The 
efforts  of  such  an  institution  would  liave  proved  as  un- 
availing as  those  of  the  Society  for  the  Suppression  of 
Vice.  Edgeworth  was  insuppressible  ;  and,  take  him 
for  all  in  all,  he  was  not  a  man  whom  it  was  proper  or 
expedient  to  suppress.  With  the  simple  change  of 
gender,  we  might  apply  to  ]iim  what  Talleyrand  said 
of  Madame  de  Stael :  '  EUe  eat  vraiment  insupportable  ;* 


HER    LIFE   AND    AVRITINGS.  138 

which,  he  qiuihfied  after  a  sliort  pause  by,  '  c'est  son 
aeul  defaut.'  Edge  worth  was  a  useful  man,  au  excellent 
mau  in  many  ways  ;  although,  like  many  useful  and 
excellent  men,  a  bore  of  the  first  magnitude.  He  was 
a  patriot,  a  [)hilanlhropist,  a  g(Jod  landlord,  a  good 
magistrate,  a  good  husband,  and  (what  is  most  to  our 
present  pur[)ose)  a  good  fatlier. 

The  Edgewoilhs,  of  Edgeworth-Town,  County  Long- 
ford, were  a  family  of  considerable  local  distinction, 
who  came  into  Ireland  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth. 
Their  settlement  there  is  clearly  traced  to  Edward 
Edge  worth,  bishop  of  Down  and  Connor,  in  1593, 
who,  dying  without  issue,  left  his  fortune  to  his 
brother,  Franci;,  in  1619.  In  the  way  of  historical 
illustration,  they  boast  of  a  Lady  Edgeworth,  a  woman 
of  extraordinary  beauty  and  courage,  who,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  gallant  attentions  of  Charles  11.  at  her 
presentation,  refused  to  attend  his  court  a  second  time, 
and  afterwards  gave  an  instance  of  presence  of  mind 
which  equals  or  surpasses  the  Yictoria-cross  exploit  of 
flinging  a  lighted  shell  out  of  a  trench.  On  some 
sudden  alarm  at  her  husband's  L'ish  castle  of  Lissard, 
she  hurried  to  a  garret  for  gunpowder,  followed  by  a 
maid-servant  carrying  a  candle  without  a  candlestick. 
When  the  lady  had  taken  what  she  wanted  from  the 
barrel,  had  locked  the  door,  and  was  halfway  down  tlie 
stairs  again,  she  observed  that  the  girl  had  left  the 
candle,  and  asked  her  what  she  had  done  with  it.  She 
had  left  it  '  stuck  in  the  barrel  of  black  salt,'  Lady 
Edgeworth  returned  by  herself  to  the  garret,  put  her 
hand  carefully  underneath  the  candle  and  carried  it 
safely  out. 

llichard  Lovell  Edgeworth,  the  lineal  descendant  of 
Francis,  and  the  representative  of  the  family  when  we 
take  it  up,  was  born  at  Bath  in  1744.  His  maternal 
grandfather  was  a  Welsh  judge  named  Lovell,  of  whom 
it  is  related  that,  travelling  over  the  sands  at  Beau- 


1 34  MARIA   EDGEWORTH  : 

maris  as  he  was  going  circuit,  he  was  overtaken  by  tlie 
tide  :  the  coach  stuck  fast  in  a  quicksand ;  the  water 
rose  rapidly,  and  the  registrar,  who  had  crept  out  of 
the  window  and  taken  refuge  on  the  coach-box,  whilst 
tlie  servants  clustered  on  the  roof,  earnestly  entreated 
the  judge  to  do  the  same.  With  the  water  nearly 
touching  his  lips  he  gi'avely  replied :  '  I  will  follow 
your  counsel  if  you  can  quote  any  precedent  for  a 
judge's  mounting  a  coach-box.' 

It  must  be  admitted  that  a  man  so  descended  had  an 
hereditary  riglit  to  firmness  of  nerve  and  eccentricity, 
and  Edgeworth  did  not  alloAV  the  right  to  fall  into 
abeyance  from  disuse.  He  is  reported  to  have  said  : — 
'  I  am  not  a  man  of  prejudice  :  I  have  had  four  wives  ; 
the  second  and  third  were  sisters ;  and  I  was  in  love  with 
the  second  in  the  lifetime  of  the  first.'  The  first  was 
Anna  Maria,  daughter  of  Paul  Elers,  Esq.,  of  Black 
Bourton,  in  Oxfordshire,  by  whom  he  had  Maria  and 
a  son  The  second  and  tliird  were  Honora  and  Eliza- 
beth Sneyd.  The  fourth,  Miss  Beaufort,  daughter  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Beaufort  and  sister  of  the  late  Admiral  Sir 
Francis  Beaufort,  is  the  author  of  the  memoir)  edited 
by  her  children.  The  book  is  remarkably  well  written 
and  edited  ;  and,  with  a  few  shght  omissions  and  alte- 
rations, might  be  laid  before  the  public  in  the  full  con- 
fidence tliat  the  reputation  of  every  one  concerned, 
whether  dead  or  living,  would  be  confirmed  or  raised 
by  it.  The  selections  from  the  letters  are  peculiarly 
valuiible,  as  well  from  the  spirited  descriptions,  curious 
anecdotes,  and  sound  remarks  on  things  and  people, 
as  from  the  light  they  throw  on  Miss  Edgeworth 's 
life,  character,  and  writings.  We  therefore  purpose 
to  quute  liberally  from  them. 

Maria  (born  January  1,  1767)  had  only  just  attained 
her  sixth  year  when  her  mother  died,  and  she  just  re- 
membered being  taken  to  the  death-bed  for  a  last  fare- 
Well.  Bj-jor  to  tliis  event  her  childhood  had  been  passed 


HER    LIFE    AND    WRITINGS.  135 

at  Black  Boiirton,  where  she  ran  some  risk  of  being  spoilt 
by  the  fond  indulgence  of  her  aunts.  After  the  lapse 
of  a  few  months  her  mother's  [)lace  was  occupied  by  a 
step-mother,  wdio  exercised  too  important  an  influence 
on  the  embryo  authoress  to  allow  of  her  being  uncere- 
moniously introduced. 

Honora  Sneyd  was  a  daughter  of  a  younger  son  of 
Ealph  Sneyd,  Esq.,  of  Bishton,  in  Staffordshire.  Her 
father  having  become  a  widower  in  early  life,  she  wasbred 
up  under  the  care  of  Mrs.  Seward,  with  her  sworn  friend, 
the  famous  Anna,  and  it  was  at  Lichfield,  in  1770,  that 
Edgeworth  first  became  acquainted  with  her,  whilst  on 
a  visit  to  Day,  the  author  of  '  Sandford  and  Merton.' 
He  has  recorded  his  impressions  in  his  Memoirs : 

'  During  this  intercourse,  I  perceived  the  superiority  of 
Miss  Honora  Sneyd's  capacity.  Her  memory  was  not 
copiously  stored,  with  poetry ;  and,  though  no  way  deficient, 
lier  knowledge  had  not  been  much  enlarged  by  books ;  but 
her  sentiments  were  on  all  subjects  so  just,  and  were  delivered 
with  such  blushing  modesty  (though  not  without  'an  air  of 
conscious  worth),  as  to  command  attention  from  every  one 
capable  of  appreciating  female  excellence.  Her  person  was 
graceful,  her  features  beautiful,  and  their  expression  such  as 
to  lieighten  the  eloquence  of  everything  she  said.  I  was 
six-and-twenty ;  and  now,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  amw 
a  woman  that  equalled  the  picture  of  perfection  which 
existed  in  my  imagination.  I  had  long  suffered  from  the 
want  of  that  cheerfulness  in  a  wife,  without  which  marriage 
could  not  be  agreeable  to  a  man  of  such  a  temper  as  mine. 
I  had  borne  this  evil,  I  believe,  with  patience ;  but  my  not 
being  happy  at  home  exposed  me  to  the  danger  of  being  too 
happy  elsewhere.' 

Miss  Seward,  in  a  note  to  her  '  Monody  on  the  Death 
of  Major  Andre,'  asserts  that,  in  a  fit  of  despair  at  being 
jilted  by  this  lady,  Andre  threw  up  his  business  as  a 
merchant,  entered  the  army,  and  met  his  untimely  fate. 
Nor  can  we  agree  with  Edgeworth  that  the  assertion  is 
satisfactorily  lefuted  by  the  dates ;    for  Andre's  first 


136  M.UUA   EDGEWORTH  : 

commission  was  dated  March  4tl],  1771,  prior  to  lier 
marriage,  but  not  necessarily  prior  to  her  rejection  of 
his  suit.  He  was  certainly  deeply  attached  to  her  ;  and 
so  was  Day,  who  wrote  her  an  argumentative  proposal 
comprised  in  several  sheets  of  paper,  to  which  she  wrote 
an  equally  long  and  argumentative  refusal.  The  pith 
of  his  reasoning  was  that  the  best  thing  for  her  would 
be  to  live  with  him  secluded  from  what  is  called  the 
world ;  the  pith  of  her  reply  being  that  she  would 
rather  live  in  it.  On  receiving  this  rejDly  he  took 
to  his  bed,  and  was  profusely  bled  by  his  friend,  Dr. 
Darwin  ;  but  speedily  thought  better  of  the  matter,  got 
up,  rejoined  the  circle,  and  fell  in  love  with  her  sister. 
A  stranger  or  more  amusing  set  of  people  than  were 
then  collected  at  Lichfield  it  would  be  no  easy  matter 
to  light  upon ;  but  they  were  people  of  principle,  and  in 
the  midst  of  their  own  weaknesses  could  give  one 
another  good  advice  upon  a  pinch.  Edgeworth  tells  us 
that  Day  could  not  see  more  plainly  than  himself  the 
imprudence  and  folly  of  becoming  too  fond  of  an  object 
which  he  could  not  hope  to  obtain.  '  With  all  the  elo- 
quence of  virtue  and  of  friendship,  he  represented  to 
me  the  danger,  the  criminality,  of  such  an  attachment. 
1  knew  that  there  is  but  one  certain  method  of  ending 
such  dangers — -flight'  He  resolved  to  go  abroad,  and 
Day  determined  to  go  abroad  too,  with  the  view  of  de- 
voting a  large  portion  of  his  time  to  the  acquirement 
of  those  accomplishments  (riding,  dancing,  fencing,  &c.) 
which  he  had  formerly  treated  with  sovereign  contempt. 
'  Miss  Elizabetli  Sneyd  had  convinced  him  that  he  could 
not  witli  })ropriety  abase  or  richcule  talents  in  which  he 
appeared  obviously  deficient.'  As  we  are  speaking  of 
another  future  step-mother,  it  is  hardly  a  digression  to 
add  that  '  on  her  ])art  she  promised  not  to  go  to  London, 
Bath,  or  any  public  place  of  anuisement,  till  his  re- 
turn, and  she  engaged  with  alacrity  to  prosecute  an 


HER    LIFE    AND    WRITINGS.  137 

excellent  course   of  reading,  wlncli  tliey  liad  agreed 
upon  before  his  departure.' 

Abroad  they  went,  and  made  Lyons  their  head- 
quarters for  nearly  two  years,  Edgeworth  having  lui- 
dertaken  to  construct  a  new  kind  of  ferry-boat  across 
the  EJione  and  a  bridge  for  w]ieell)arrows  over  a  ravine. 
Mrs.  Edgeworth,  number  one,  joined  him  there ;  and 
as  at  the  end  of  some  months  she  returned  at  her  own 
earnest  request  to  England  to  be  confined,  she  liad 
small  reason  to. complain  of  neglect,  nor  does  she  any- 
where appear  to  have  been  disturbed  by  jealousy  of  a 
rival  or  successor.  He  distinctly  states  that  he  steadily 
adhered  to  the  resolution  he  had  formed  on  leaving 
England,  never  to  keep  up  the  slightest  intercourse  with 
the  object  of  his  irregular  affection  (the  future  number 
two)  by  letter,  message,  or  inquiry.  Mrs.  Edgeworth 
died  in  childbirth,  March  1773,  and  he  instantly  started 
for  England,  where  he  met  Day.  The  first  words  Day 
said  to  him  were, '  Have  you  heard  anything  of  Honora 
Sneyd  ? '  On  being  answered  in  the  negative.  Day 
resumed :  '  My  dear  friend,  wliile  virtue  and  honour 
forbade  you  to  think  of  her,  I  did  everything  in  my 
power  to  separate  you  ;  but  now  that  you  are  both  at 
liberty,  I  have  used  the  utmost  expedition  to  reaofe 
you  on  your  arrival  in  England,  that  I  might  be  the 
first  to  tell  you  that  Honora  is  in  perfect  health  and 
beauty  ;  improved  in  person  and  in  mind,  and,  though 
surrounded  by  lovers,  still  her  own  mistress.' 

We  cannot  help  suspecting  that  the  ftiscinating 
Honora  had  an  instinctive  prescience  of  coming  events, 
and  that  her  heart  was  not  altogether  unoccupied  when 
she  transferred  Day  to  her  sister,  and  unwittingly  hur- 
ried poor  Andre  to  his  f;ite.  Neither  do  we  put  im- 
})licit  faith  in  the  widowxd  suitor's  confusion  and  un- 
consciou^iess  at  their  first  meeting,  when  he  avers  : 
*  I  have  been  told  that  the  last  person  whom  I  ad- 
di-cssed  or  saw,  when  I  came  into  the  room,  was  Honora 


138  MARIA   EDGEWORTII  : 

Sneyd.  Tliis  I  do  not  remember ;  but  I  am  perfectly 
sure  that,  when  I  did  see  her,  slie  appeared  to  me  most 
lovely,  even  more  lovely  than  when  we  parted.  What 
her  sentiments  might  be  it  was  impossible  to  divine. 
My  addresses  were,  after  some  time,  permitted  and  ap- 
proved ;  and,  with  the  consent  of  her  father.  Miss 
Honora  Sneyd  and  I  were  married  (1773)  by  special 
license,  in  the  ladies'  choir,  in  the  Catliedral  at  Lich- 
field.' 

They  were  married  on  the  17th  July;  a  rather 
hasty  proceeding,  unless  there  is  an  error  of  a  year, 
which  would  make  the  period  of  probation  improbably 
long.  Immediately  after  the  ceremony  they  went  to 
Ireland ;  and  here  the  narrative  is  taken  up  in  the 
second  page  of  the  Memoir  : 

'On  Mr.  Edgewoith's  marriage  with  Honora  Sneyd,  Maria 
accompanied  them  to  Ireland.  Of  this  visit  she  recol- 
lected very  little,  except  that  she  was  a  mischievous  child, 
amusing  herself  once  at  her  aunt  Fox's  when  the  company 
were  unmindful  of  her,  cutting  out  the  squares  in  a  checked 
sofa  cover,  and  one  day  trampling  through  a  number  of  hot- 
bed frames  that  had  just  been  glazed,  laid  on  the  grass 
before  the  door  at  Edgeworth-Town.  She  recollected  her 
delight  at  the  crashing  of  the  glass,  but,  immorally,  did  not 
remember  either  cutting  her  feet  or  how  slie  was  punished 
for  this  performance.' 

Her  step-mother  was  to  her  all  that  the  most  affec- 
tionate mother  could  have  been,  and  had  the  happy 
art  of  inspiring  perfect  confidence  along  wdth  a  degree 
of  admiration  approaching  to  awe.  '  The  surpassing 
beauty  of  her  presence  struck  Maria,  young  as  she 
was,  at  their  first  acquaintance :  she  remembered 
standing  by  her  dressing-table,  and  looking  up  at 
her  with  a  sudden  feeling  of — ITow  beautiful ! ' 
This  estimable  lady's  health  unfortunately  .began  to 
fail  in  1778,  and  Maiia,  then  in  her  eighth  year,  was 
placed  at  scliool  at  Deiby,  \\itli  a  Mrs.  Latadiere,  who 


HER   LIFE    AND    WRITINGS.  139 

was  always  kindly  remembered  by  lier  pupil,  allliougli 
the  writing-master  of  this  establishment  earned  the  most 
lasting  title  to  her  gratitude  and  tliat  of  her  corre- 
spondents by  teaching  her  to  write  the  beautiful  hand 
which  she  retained  to  the  end  of  her  life.  She  said 
that,  on  the  first  day  of  her  entrance  in  the  school- 
room, she  felt  more  admiration  for  a  child,  less  than 
herself,  who  could  repeat  the  nine  parts  of  speech  than 
she  ever  felt  afterwards  for  any  eflbrt  of  human  genius. 
The  first  of  the  printed  letters  from  Edgeworth  to 
his  daughter  is  dated  April  6th,  1780,  and  the  method 
he  pursued  with  her  may  be  collected  from  it :  'It 
would  be  very  agreeable  to  me,  my  dear  Maria,  to  have 
letters  from  you  ftxmiharly  :  I  wish  to  know  what  you 
hke  and  what  you  dislike  :  I  wish  to  communicate  to 
you  what  httle  knowledge  I  have  acquired,  that  you 
may  have  a  tincture  of  every  species  of  literature,  and 
form  your  taste  by  choice  and  not  by  chance.'  The 
same  tone  is  taken  in  the  only  printed  letter  from  Mrs. 
Honora  EdgcAvorth  to  her  daughter-in-law,  dated 
October  10,  1779,  in  which,  after  impressing  that  it  is 
in  vain  to  attempt  to  please  a  person  who  will  not  tell 
us  w^hat  they  do  and  what  they  do  not  desire,'  she  con- 
tinues :  '  It  is  very  agreeable  to  me  to  think  of  coti- 
versing  with  you  as  my  equal  in  every  respect  but  age, 
and  of  my  making  that  inequalit}^  of  use  to  you,  by 
giving  you  the  advantage  of  the  experience  I  have  had, 
and  the  observations  I  have  been  able  to  make,  as  these 
are  parts  of  knowled.<i;e,  which  nothing  but  time  can 
bestow.'     On  May  2,  1780,  Edgeworth  writes  : — 

'  My  dear  Daughter, — At  six  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning 
your  excellent  mother  expired  in  my  arms.  She  now  lies 
dead  beside  me,  and  I  know  I  am  doing  what  would  give 
her  pleasure,  if  she  were  capable  of  feeling  anything,  by 
Writing  to  you  at  this  time  to  fix  her  excellent  image  in 
your  mind.  .  .  .  Continue,  my  dear  daughter,  the  desire 
which  you  feel  of  becoming  amiable,  prudent,  and  of  use. 


140  MARIA   EDGEWORTII: 

The  ornamental  parts  of  a  character,  with  sucli  an  under- 
standing as  yoiu's,  necessarily  ensue  :  but  true  judgment  and 
sagacity  in  the  choice  of  friends,  and  tlie  regulation  of  your 
behaviom-  can  be  had  onty  from  reflection  and  from  being 
thoroughly  convinced  of  what  experience  teaches  in  general 
too  late,  that  to  be  happy  we  must  be  good. 

'  God  bless  you,  and  make  you  ambitious  of  that  valuable 
praise  which  the  amiable  character  of  yoiu-  dear  mother 
forces  from  the  virtuous  and  the  wise.  My  writing  to  you 
in  my  present  situation  will,  my  dearest  daughter,  be  re- 
membered by  you  as  the  strongest  proof  of  the  love  of  your 
approving  and  affectionate  father.' 

At  one  of  the  Proven9al  Courts  of  Love  in  the  thir- 
teenth century  the  question  was  argued  whether  a 
second  marriage  by  man  or  woman  be  or  be  not  com- 
plimentary to  the  deceased  partner  in  the  first.  Edge- 
Avorth  had  no  hesitation  in  deciding  this  question  in  the 
adirujative,  backed  as  he  was  by  the  authority  of  his 
second  wife.  She  enjoined  him  on  her  death-bed  to 
marry  her  sister  Elizabeth,  who  had  Ikuig  over  Day 
ai'ter  he  had  undergone  a  regular  gymnastic  training 
for  her  sake  : 

'  Notliing  is  more  erroneous  tlian  the  common  belief,  that 
a  man  who  has  lived  in  the  greatest  happiness  with  one 
wife  will  be  the  most  averse  to  take  anotlier.  On  the 
contrary,  the  loss  of  happiness  which  he  feels  when  he  loses 
her  necessarily  urges  him  to  endeavour  to  be  again  placed 
in  a  situation,  wliich  had  constituted  his  former  felicity. 

'  I  felt  tliat  Honora  liad  judged  wisely,  and  from  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  my  character,  when  she  had  advised  me  to  marry 
again  as  soon  as  I  could  meet  with  a  woman  who  woidd  make 
a  guod  mother  to  my  children  and  an  agreeable  companion 
to  me.  She  had  formed  an  idea,  that  her  sister  Elizabeth 
was  better  suited  to  me  than  any  other  woman ;  and  thought 
that  I  was  equally  well  suited  to  her.  Of  all  Houora's  sisters 
1  liad  seen  the  least  of  Elizabeth.' 

If  ever  there  were  such  tilings  as  marriages  made  in 
lieaven,  three  of  EdL^'eworth's  iniirht  Ije  so  described,  for 


HER    LIFE    A\D    WEITTXGS.  141 

tliey  were  extremely  happy  mnrriages,  althousili  tlic 
circumstances  under  which  they  were  broiiglit  almut 
were  irreconcilable  with  all  ordinaiy  rules  and  prob;il)i- 
lities.  Elizidjeth  Sneyd,  when  the  successorship  was 
first  proposed  by  her  dying  sister,  revolted  at  it :  '  Not 
only,'  observes  Edgeworth,  '  because  I  was  her  sister's 
husband,  and  because  she  had  another  attachment ' — 
pretty  strong  grounds  in  the  common  mundane  point 
of  view — 'but,  independently  of  these  circumstances, 
as  she  distinctly  said,  I  was  the  last  man  of  her  acquain- 
tance that  she  should  have  thought  of  for  a  husband  ; 
and  certainly,  notwithstanding  her  beauty,  abilities,  and 
polished  manners,  I  beheved  she  was  as  little  suited 
to  me.' 

But  there's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends  :  the 
two  negatives  made  an  affirmative  :  the  antipathy  grew 
into  sympathy  :  the  other  attachment  was  shaken  off: 
the  religious  scruple  was  got  over  :  and  one  fine  morn- 
ing in  the  December  of  1780  (less  than  eight  months 
after  the  death  of  number  two),  the  widower  and  the 
sister  of  his  deceased  wife  met  to  be  married  in  the 
parish  church  of  Scarborough.  At  this  critical  point 
there  was  a  hitch.  The  clergyman  was  so  alarmed  by 
a  letter  '  as  to  make  it  cruel  to  press  him  to  perform 
the  ceremony.'  So  the  couple  separated.  The  brMe 
expectant  started  with  her  friend.  Lady  Holte,  for 
Bath  :  the  bridegroom  hurried  to  London  with  his 
children,  took  lodgings  in  Gray's  Inn,  and  had  the 
banns  published  three  times  in  St.  Andrew's  Church, 
Holborn.  When  all  was  ready  for  a  second  attempt, 
she  came  from  Bath,  '  and  on  Christmas  Day,  1780, 
was  married  to  me  in  the  presence  of  my  first  wife's 
brother,  Mr.  Elers,  his  lady,  and  Mr.  Day ' — ^just  the 
very  last  peoplo  we  should  have  expected  to  see  at  the 
celebration.  It  will  be  remembered  that,  prior  to  the 
Statute  of  5  and  6  William  IV.  c.  64,  marriages  within 
the  Levitical  degrees  were  voidable,  not  void,  and  if 


142  MARIA   EDGEWORTH  : 

not  invalidated  during  the  lifetime   of  both   parties, 
held  good  to  all  intents  and  purposes. 

Neitlier  the  death  of  Honora,  nor  the  courtship  of 
EHzabeth  Avith  its  embarrassments,  appear  to  have 
diminished  the  care  with  which  Edge  worth  watched 
over  the  mental  training  of  his  daughter  :  for  on  May 
'25,  1780,  he  writes  from  Lichfield: — 

'•  I  also  beg  that  you  will  send  me  a  tale,  about  the  length 
of  a  "  Spectator,"  upon  the  subject  of  Generosity  ;  it  must  be 
taken  from  history  or  romance,  and  must  be  sent  the  day 
se'nnight  after  you  receive  this,  and  I  beg  you  will  take 
some  pains  about  it. 

'  The  same  subject  (we  are  informed  in  the  Memoir)  was 
given  at  the  same  time  to  a  young  gentleman  from  Oxford, 
then  at  Lichfield.  When  the  two  stories  were  completed, 
they  were  given  to  Mr.  William  Sneyd,  Mr.  Edgeworth's 
brother-in-law,  to  decide  on  their  merits ;  he  pronounced 
Maria's  to  be  very  much  the  best :  "  an  excellent  story,  and 
extremely  well  written  ;  but  where's  the  Generosity  ? "  A 
saying  which  became  a  sort  of  proverb  with  her  afterwards. 
It  was  Maria's  first  story  ;  but  it  has  not  been  preserved ;  she 
used  to  say  that  there  was  in  it  a  sentence  of  inextricable 
confusion  between  a  saddle,  a  man,  and  his  horse.' 

In  the  same  year,  1780,  she  was  removed  from  Mrs. 
Lataffiere's  to  the  fashionable  establishment  of  Mrs. 
Davis  in  Upper  Wimpole  Street.  '  Even  in  the  midst 
of  the  embarrassment  of  the  introduction  to  her  new 
niistress,  she  was  struck  by  the  reflected  effect  in  Mrs. 
Davis's  countenance  of  her  father's  air  and  address 
wlien  he  brouglit  her  to  the  school.'  Whatever  the 
effect  of  his  air  and  address  on  others,  he  certainly  con- 
trived to  impress  wife  after  wife,  and  every  one  of  his 
many  children  by  each  of  them,  with  the  conviction 
that  he  had  not  his  equal  upon  earth.  Mrs.  Davis,  it 
is  stated,  treated  Maria  with  kindness  and  considera- 
tion, though  she  was  neither  beautiful  nor  fashionable, 
and  gave  her  the  full  benefit  of  an  invention  for  draw- 
ing out  young  ladies,  wliich,  we  hope,  died  out  with  this 


HER    LIFE    AXD    WRITIXOS.  143 

establishment.  '  Excellent  masters  were  in  attendance, 
and  Maria  went  througli  all  the  usual  tortures  of  back 
boards,  iron  collars,  and  dumbbells,  with  the  uiuisual 
one  of  being  swung  by  the  neck  to  draw  out  the  muscles, 
and  increase  the  growth,  a  signal  failure  in  her  case.' 
Did  it  succeed  in  any  case?  There  is  a  story  of  a  wry- 
necked  Prince  of  Conde  falling  in  the  hunting  field,  and 
coming  to  himself  just  in  time  to  stop  the  peasants  who 
picked  him  up  in  a  well-intended  effort  to  pull  him 
straight ;  but  the  notion  of  pulling  out  a  young  lady  like 
a  telescope  was  surely  peculiar  to  a  '  finishing  '  school. 
By  a  parity  of  reason  they  should  be  made  to  stand 
with  weights  on  their  heads  when  they  are  growing  too 
fast. 

Maria  had  so  little  taste  for  music  that  the  music- 
master  advised  her  to  give  up  learning  to  play  on  the 
pianoforte.  '  He,  however,  underrated  her  powers  of 
ear,'  remarks  her  third  step-mother,  '  for  when  I  knew 
her  she  enjoyed  good  music,  and  at  Mrs.  Davis's  she 
learned  to  dance  well,  and  liked  it.  She  delighted  to 
remember  the  pleasure  she  felt  in  the  perfect  time  in 
which  her  companions  executed  a  favourite  dance  of 
that  day,  Slingsby's  AUemand.'  The  probabilities  are, 
notwithstanding,  all  in  favour  of  the  music-master  who 
gives  up  a  pupil ;  and  an  ear  for  time  is  not  unfrequentl^ 
deficient  in  the  sensibility  which  constitutes  a  good  ear 
for  music.  Miss  Edgeworth  was  about  upon  a  par  with 
Jeremy  in  '  Love  for  Love '  in  this  respect :  '  Yes,  I 
have  a  reasonable  good  ear,  sir,  as  to  jigs  and  countiy 
dances,  and  the  like.  I  don't  much  matter  your  solos 
and  sonatas.' 

On  the  other  hand  she  had  a  great  facility  for  learn- 
ing languages,  and  she  found  her  Italian  and  French 
exercises  so  easy  that  she  wrote  off  those  given  out  for 
the  whole  quarter  at  once,  keeping  them  strung  to- 
gether in  her  desk,  and  read  for  amusement  whilst  the 
other  girls  were  labouring  at  their  tasks.    '  Her  favourite 


144  ^[AKTA   EDGEWORTH  : 

seat  during  playtime  was  under  a  high  ebony  cabinet 
which  stood  at  one  end  of  the  schoolroom ;  and  here 
slic  often  remained  so  completely  absorbed  by  the  book 
she  was  reading  as  to  be  perfectly  deaf  to  all  the  noises 
around  her,  only  occasionally  startled  into  conscious- 
ness of  it  by  some  unusual  uproar.  This  early  habit  of 
concentrated  attention,  perhaps  inherent  in  minds  of 
great  genius,  continued  through  life.'  It  is  so  inherent,  so 
inseparable,  as  to  have  been  sometimes  thought  identical 
with  genius  ;  which  Buffon  defines,  a  superior  aptitude  to 
patience.  Another  noteworthy  trait  of  this  period  has 
been  preserved.  '  She  was  remembered  by  her  com- 
panions, both  at  Mrs.  Lataffiere's  and  Mrs.  Davis's,  for 
her  entertaining  stories ;  and  she  learned,  with  all  the 
tact  of  an  improvisatrice,  to  know  which  story  was  most 
successful  by  the  unmistakable  evidence  of  her  audi- 
tors' wakefulness,  when  she  narrated  at  night  for  those 
who  were  in  the  bedroom  with  her.' 

She  was  taken  from  school  in  1782,  and  went  with 
her  father  and  the  rest  of  the  faniilv  to  Edsjeworth- 
Town,  her  home  for  the  remainder  of  her  life.  Her 
first  impressions  are  fortunately  set  down  in  her  con- 
tinuation of  her  father's  Memoirs  : — 

'  I  accompanied  my  father  to  Ireland.  Before  this  time 
I  had  not,  except  during  a  few  months  of  my  childhood, 
ever  been  in  that  country ;  therefore  every  thing  there  was 
new  to  me  :  and  thotigh  I  was  then  but  twelve  years  old, 
and  though  such  a  length  of  time  has  since  elapsed,  I  have 
retained  a  clear  and  strong  recollection  of  our  arrival  at 
Edgeworth-Town. 

'  Things  and  persons  are  so  much  improved  in  Ireland  of 
latter  days,  that  only  those  who  can  remember  how  they 
were  some  thirty  or  forty  years  ago  can  conceive  the  variety 
of  domestic  grievances,  wliich,  in  those  times,  assailed  the 
master  of  a  family,  immediately  upon  his  arrival  at  his  Irish 
home.  Wherever  he  turned  his  eyes,  in  or  out  of  his  house, 
damp,  dilapidation,  waste !  appeared.  Painting,  glazing, 
rooting,  fencing,  finisliing — all  were  wanting. 


HER    LIFE    AXD    WRITIXCS.  145 

'  The  Ijackyard,  and  even  the  front  lawn  round  the 
windows  of  the  house,  were  filled  with  loungers,  followers, 
and  petitioners ;  tenants,  undertenants,  drivers,  sub-agent 
and  agent,  were  to  have  audience ;  and  they  all  had 
grievances  and  secret  informations,  accusations  recipro- 
cating, and  quarrels  each  under  each  interminable.' 

She  could  never  have  been  guilty  of  the  weakness 
which  the  late  Mr.  Croker  laboured  so  hard  to  fix  on 
Madame  d'Arblay  ;  but  she  was  undoubtedly  in  her 
sixteenth  year  in  1782,  and  both  memoirs  concur  in 
fixing  the  permanent  return  to  Ireland  in  that  year. 
She  continues : 

'  I  was  with  him  constantly,  and  I  was  amused  and  inte- 
rested in  seeing  how  he  made  his  way  through  these  com- 
plaints, petitions,  and  grievances,  with  decision  and  despatch  ; 
he,  all  the  time,  in  good  humour  with  the  people,  and  they 
delighted  with  him  ;  though  he  often  "rated  them  roundly," 
when  they  stood  before  him  perverse  in  litigation,  helpless 
in  procrastination,  detected  in  cunning,  or  convicted  of 
falsehood.  They  saw  into  his  character,  almost  as  soon  as 
he  understood  theirs.  The  first  remark  which  I  heard 
whispered  aside  among  the  people,  with  congratulatory  looks 
at  each  other,  was — "  His  honour,  any  way,  is  good  payJ^ 

'  It  was  said  of  the  celebrated  King  of  Prussia,  that 
"  he  scolded  like  a  trooper,  and  paid  like  a  prince.*'  Such 
a  man  would  be  liked  in  Ireland ;  but  there  is  a  highftr 
description  of  character,  which  (give  them  but  time  to 
know  it)  the  Irish  would  infinitely  prefer.  One  who  paid, 
not  like  a  prince  but  like  a  man  of  sense  and  humanity.' 

It  is  new  to  us  that  the  celebrated  King  of  Prussia 
paid  like  a  prince.  Even  Mr.  Carlyle  has  not  endowed 
him  with  that  merit ;  but  we  have  no  doubt  that  Mr. 
Edgeworth  paid  hke  a  man  of  sense  and  humanity; 
and  details  enough  are  given  by  his  daughter  to  [)rove 
that  he  resolutely  pursued  the  precise  course  which  a  re- 
sident landlord  should  pursue,  to  remedy  the  worst  evils 
of  that  unhappy  country.  He  had  no  dealings  with 
middlemen.     He  received  his  rents  without  the  inter- 

VOL.    I.  L 


146  MARIA    EDGEWORTII  : 

vention  of  a<]jent  or  siib-ao'cnt.  He  cliose  his  tenants 
for  their  character.  The  sole  claims  to  preference  were 
industry,  honesty,  and  sobriety.  He  resisted  subdivi- 
sion. He  made  no  difference  between  Catholic  and 
Protestant,  Saxon  and  Celt ;  and  his  sound  adminis- 
tration of  justice  grew  into  a  proverb  Our  inunediate 
object,  however,  in  referring  to  his  domestic  arrange- 
ments and  way  of  life  is  to  show  how  materials  for  the 
future  novelist  accumulated  and  were  hived  up  : 

'  Some  men  live  with  their  family,  without  letting  them 
know  their  affairs  ;  and,  however  great  may  be  their  affection 
and  esteem  for  their  wives  and  children,  think  that  they 
have  nothing  to  do  with  business. —  This  was  not  my  father's 
way  of  thinking. — On  the  contrary,  not  only  his  wife  but 
his  children  knew  all  his  affairs.  Whatever  business  he  had 
to  do  was  done  in  the  midst  of  his  family,  usiially  in  the 
common  sitting-room:  so  that  we  were  intimately  acquainted, 
not  only  with  his  general  principles  of  conduct,  but  with  the 
most  minute  details  of  their  every-day  application.  I  further 
enjoyed  some  peculiar  advantages  : — he  kindly  wished  to 
give  me  habits  of  business ;  and  for  this  purpose,  allowed 
me  during  many  years  to  assist  him  in  copying  his  letters  of 
business,  and  in  receiving  his  rents.' 

Within  visiting  distance  of  Edo-eworth-Town  was 
Pakenluim  Hall,  the  residence  of  Lord  Longford,  where 
II  large  family  was  growing  up,  including  '  Kitty  Paken- 
ham,'  the  future  Duchess  of  Wellington.  Here  Miss 
Edgeworth  became  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Greville,  the 
author  of  the  '  Ode  to  Indifference,'  and  many  other 
people  of  distinction.  Anotlier  neigliboui-iiig  liouse 
was  Castle  Forbes,  the  residence  of  the  Earl  of  Gra- 
nard,  where  a  various  and  agreeable  society  assembled, 
especially  when  Lady  Granard's  mother.  Lady  Moira, 
was  staying  there.  The  times,  again,  were  higlily 
favourable  for  the  observer  who  wished  to  see  national 
characteristics  called  out  and  placed  in  broad  relief. 
Tile  stirring,. exciting,  elevating  iulluciu;e  of  the  great 


ITEE    LIFE    AND    WRITIXOS.  147 

Volunteer  raoveiiicut  was  in  full  opcrulion  during  the 
early  years  of  Miss  Edge  worth's  residence  in  Ireland  ; 
and  she  was  in  the  thick  of  the  rebellion  in  1798.  There 
is  no  reason  to  suppose,  however,  that  either  her  father 
or  herself  foresaw  tlie  line  of  composition  in  wliich  she 
was  destined  to  win  fame ;  and  his  principal  care  was 
that  she  should  acquire  clearness  of  thought  and 
accuracy  of  ex[)ression. 

In  the  autumn  of  1782  she  began  at  his  suggestion 
to  translate  Madame  de  Genhs's  '  Adele  et  Theodore ;' 
and  she  had  completed  one  volume,  when  Holcroft's 
translation  appeared.  The  time  spent  on  this  work, 
we  are  told,  was  not  regarded  as  misspent  :  it  fixed 
her  handwriting,  and  gave  her  '  a  readiness  and  choice 
of  words  which  only  translation  reaches.'  Day,  who 
had  a  horror  of  female  authorship,  was  shocked  at  her 
having  been  permitted  even  to  translate,  and  wrote  a 
congratulatory  letter  to  Edgeworth  when  the  pul)lica- 
tion  was  prevented.  It  was  from  the  recollection  of 
his  arguments  (she  states),  and  of  her  father's  reply, 
that  'Letters  for  Literary  Ladies'  were  written  nearly 
ten  years  afterwards.  '  They  were  not  pubhshed,  nor 
was  anything  of  ours  puljlished,  till  some  time  after 
Mr.  Day's  death  (in  1780).  Though  sensible  that  ther^ 
was  much  prejudice  mixed  with  his  reasons,  yet  de- 
ference for  his  friend's  judgment  prevailed  with  my 
father  and  made  him  dread  for  his  daughter  the  name 
of  authoress.  Yet,  though  publication  was  out  of  our 
thoughts,  as  sul)jects  occurred,  many  essays  and  tales 
were  written  for  private  amusement.'  This  dela}^  was 
fortunate  ;  it  gave  her  powers  time  to  ripen  ;  she  wrote 
because  her  mind  was  full,  and  having  been  originally 
forced  into  the  observance  of  the  Horatian  maxim  — 
nonurngue  prematur  in  annum — she  afterwards  abided 
by  it  of  her  own  free  ciioice  and  at  her  father's  sugges- 
tion. '  He  would  soiyetimes  advise  me  to  lay  by 
what  was  done  for  several   months  and  turn  my  mind 


148  MAEIA    EDGEWORTII  : 

to  sometliiiig  else,  that  we  iiiiglit  louk  back  at  it 
afterwards  Avith  fresh  eyes.' 

The  peasant  poet,  Clare,  toiichiiigly  alludes  to  the 
hard  pressure  which  compels  the  writer  for  bread  to 
'  forestall  the  blighted  harvest  of  the  brain.'  But  want 
is  a  more  allowable,  and  not  a  more  deleterious,  stimu- 
lant than  vanity,  or  that  morbid  longing  for  pul)licity 
which  is  now  inundating  us  with  trash  ;  and,  if  ladies 
and  gentlemen  who  are  eager  to  appear  in  print  could 
only  be  advised  to  take  example  from  Miss  Edgeworth, 
they  would  save  their  friends  an  infinity  of  trouble 
and  vexation  besides  improving  their  own  chances  of 
success. 

The  first  story  which  Maria  wrote,  after  the  tale  on 
'  Generosity,'  was  '  The  Bracelets,'  and  some  of  the 
others  now  in  the  '  Parents'  Assistant '  and  '  Early 
Lessons.'  '  Dog  Trusty  and  the  Honest  Boy,'  and  the 
*  Thief,'  were  written  at  this  time  (1791).  She  used  to 
write  her  stories  on  a  slate,  then  read  them  out  to  her 
sisters,  and  if  they  were  approved,  she  copied  them. 
This  is  Mrs.  Edgeworth's  account  in  the  Memoir,  but 
her  own  gives  her  a  larger  and  more  miscellaneous  set 
of  judges.  She  says  that  her  fjither  called  upon  the 
whole  family  to  hear  and  judge  of  all  they  were 
writing,  and  adds : 

'  Whenever  I  thought  of  writing  anything,  I  always  told 
him  my  first  rough  plans  ;  and  always,  with  the  instinct  of 
a  good  critic,  he  used  to  fix  immediately  upon  that  which 
would  best  answer  the  purpose. — "  Sketch  that,  and  show 
it  to  we." — These  words,  from  the  experience  of  his  sjigacity, 
never  failed  to  inspire  me  with  hope  of  success.  It  was 
then  sketched.  Sometimes,  when  I  was  fond  of  a  particular 
part,  I  used  to  dihite  on  it  in  the  sketch  ;  but  to  this  he 
always  objected — "  I  don't  want  any  of  your  painting — none 
of  your  drapery  ! — I  can  imagine  all  that — let  me  see  the 
bare  sk&leton."  ' 


w 


e  quote  Hlicse   passages    l>ccausc  tiiey  have  been 


HER    LIFE    AND    WRITINGS.  149 

iiiiaccoiiiitably  overlooked  in  ap})r('ciatiiif»-  the  sljare 
which  Edgeworth  had  in  his  daughter's  writings  and 
determining  the  extent  to  wliich  she  was  indebted  to 
him  for  her  fame.  We  shall  show  in  the  proper  place 
that  the  entire  conception  of  her  best  known  work 
must  be  credited  to  him. 

Prior  to  1791,  the  information  is  meagre,  and  there 
are  only  two  letters  from  Maria  ;  one  to  Miss  Charlotte 
Sneyd,  and  one  to  Mrs.  Ruxton  (her  paternal  aunt), 
the  first  of  a  series  which  continued  forty-two  years. 
Dating  from  this  period,  her  letters  form  the  principal 
contents  of  the  volumes.  As  already  intimated,  they 
are  admirable ;  but,  hke  all  family  letters,  not  except- 
ing those  of  Madame  de  Sevigne,  they  contain  a  good 
deal  of  matter  which   has  no  intrinsic  worth  althouo-h 

o 

it  forms  an  indispensable  setting  for  the  rest.  The 
number  of  remarkable  people  she  fell  in  with  and 
commemorates  from  the  earliest  period  is  extra- 
ordinary. One  of  these,  Dr.  Darwin,  must  have  won 
Edgeworth 's  heart  at  once  by  his  definition  of  a  fool : 
'  A  fool,  Mr.  Edgeworth,  you  know,  is  a  man  who 
never  tried  an  experiment  in  his  life.'  If,  reversing 
this  theory,  we  are  to  estimate  a  man's  wisdom  by  the 
number  of  experiments  he  tried,  the  seven  sages  of 
Greece  and  the  wdse  men  from  the  East  together  would 
have  been  no  match  for  her  father.  On  March  9, 1792, 
she  writes  from  Clifton,  where  she  was  on  a  visit  to  a 
married  sister,  Mrs.  King  ; 

'My  father  has  just  returned  from  Dr.  Darwin's,  wliere  he 
has  Ijeen  nearly  three  weeks ;  they  were  extremely  kind,  and 
pressed  him  very  much  to  take,  a  house  in  or  near  Derby  for 
the  summer.  He  has  been,  as  Dr.  Darwin  expressed  it, 
"  breathin":  tlie  breath  of  life  into  the  brazen  lun^fs  of  a 
clock,"  which  he  had  made  at  Edgeworth-Town  as  a  present 
for  him.  He  saw  the  first  part  of  Dr.  Darwin's  "  Botanic 
Garden ; "  9001.  was  what  his  bookseller  gave  him  for  tlie 
whole !     On  his  return  from  Derby,  my  father  spent  a  day 


150  MARIA   EDGEWORTII  : 

with  ]\Ir.  Kier,  the  great  cheraist,  at  Birmingham :  he  was 
speaking  to  him  of  the  late  discovery  of  fulminating  silver, 
with  which  I  suppose  your  ladyship  is  well  acquainted, 
though  it  be  new  to  Henry  and  me.  A  lady  and  gentleman 
went  into  a  laboratory  where  a  few  grains  of  fulminating 
silver  were  lying  in  a  mortar :  the  gentleman  as  he  was 
talking  happened  to  stir  it  with  the  end  of  his  cane,  which 
was  tipped  with  iron,  —  the  fulminating  silver  exploded 
instantly,  and  blew  the  lady,  the  gentleman,  and  the  whole 
laboratory  to  pieces  !  Take  care  how  you  go  into  laboratories 
with  gentlemen,  unless  they  are  like  Sir  Plume,  skilled  in 
the  "  nice  conduct"  of  their  canes.' ' 

Her  mode  of  pointing  or  capping  a  remark  by  a 
quotation  or  a  good  story  is  one  marked  attraction  of 
lier  letters : 

'  Anna  was  extremely  sorry  that  she  could  not  see  you  again 
before  she  left  Ireland ;  but  you  will  soon  be  in  the  same 
kingdom  again,  and  that  is  one  great  point  gained,  as 
Mr.  Weaver,  a  travelling  astronomical  lecturer,  who  carried 
the  universe  about  in  a  box,  told  us.  "  Sir,"  said  he  to  my 
father,  "  when  you  look  at  a  map,  do  you  know  that  the 
east  is  always  on  your  right  hand,  and  the  west  on  your 
left  ? "  "  Yes,"  replied  my  father,  with  a  very  modest 
look,  "  I  believe  I  do."  "  Well,"  said  the  man  of  learning, 
"  that's  one  great  point  gained."  ' 

She  was  at  no  time  much  given  to  sentimentality  or 
to  what  is  popularly  understood  by  romance  :  '  I  had 
much  rather  (she  writes  in  1793)  make  a  bargain  with 
anyone  I  loved  to  read  the  same  book  witli  them  at  the 
same  hour,  than  to  look  at  the  moon  like  liousseau's 
famous  lovers.'  Speaking  of  Carnarvon  Castle,  and  the 
ini])ression  of  sublimity  made  on  lier  by  its  grandeur  in 
decay,  slie  naively  adds  :  '  1  believe  these  old  castles 
interest  one  by  calling  up  ideas  of  past  times,  which  are 
in  such  strange  contrast  with  the  present.'     Describing 

'  '  Sir  Plume,  of  amber  sniifF-ljox  justlj'  viiin, 
And  the  uice  conduct  of  n  clouded  cane.' 

'Jltc  Rape  of  the  Lock. 


HER    LIFE    AND    WRITIN(iS.  151 

a  large  and  gloomy  apartment  wliicli  she  occupied  at 
Bruges,  she  says :  '  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Eadclifle  might  have 
kept  her  heroine  wandering  about  this  room  for  six 
good  pages.  When  we  meet  I  will  tell  Margaret  of 
the  night  Charlotte  and  I  spent  in  this  room,  and  the 
footsteps  we  heard  creak — just  a  room  and  just  a  night 
to  suit  her  taste.' 

The  sober,  sensible,  rational  view  of  love  which  she 
uniformly  takes  in  her  novels  is  expressed  in  a  letter 
dated  May  IG,  1798,  to  Miss  Beaufort,  then  on  the 
point  of  becoming  her  third  step-mother: — 

'  Amongst  the  many  kindnesses  my  father  has  shown  me, 
the  greatest,  I  think,  has  been  his  permitting  me  to  see  his 
heart  a  decouvert ;  and  I  have  seen  by  your  kind  sincerity 
and  his,  that,  in  good  and  cultivated  mindS^  love  is  no  idle 
passion,  but  one  that  inspires  useful  and  generous  energy. 
I  have  been  convinced  by  your  example  of  what  I  was 
always  inclined  to  believe,  that  the  power  of  feeling  affection 
is  increased  by  the  cultivation  of  the  understanding.  The 
wife  of  an  Indian  Yogii  (if  a  Yogii  be  permitted  to  have  a 
wife)  might  be  a  very  affectionate  woman,  but  her  sympathy 
with  her  husband  could  not  have  a  very  extensive  sphere. 
As  his  eyes  are  to  be  continually  fixed  upon  the  point  of  his 
nose,  her's  in  duteous  sympathy  must  squint  in  like  manner ; 
and  if  the  perfection  of  his  virtue  be  to  sit  so  still  that  ihe 
birds  (vide  Sacontala)  may,  unmolested,  build  nests  in  his  hair, 
his  wife  cannot  better  show  her  affection  than  by  yielding 
her  tresses  to  them  with  similar  patient  stupidity.  Are  there 
not  European  Yogiis,  or  men  whose  ideas  do  not  go  much 
further  than  le  bout  du  nez?  And  how  delightful  it  must 
be  to  be  chained  for  better  for  worse  to  one  of  this  species. 
I  should  guess — for  I  know  nothing  of  the  matter — that  the 
courtship  of  an  ignorant  lover  must  be  almost  as  insipid  as  a 
marriage  witli  him;  for  "my  jewel"  continually  repeated, 
without  new  setting,  must  surely  fatigue  a  little.' 

The  same  letter  contains  some  excellent  remarks  on 
the  manner  in  which  familiarity  and  cordiality  should 
be  met,  and  due  distinctions  observed,  in  social  or 
domestic  relations : 


152  MARIA  i-:dgeworth  : 

'  I  flatter  myself  that  you  will  find  me  gratefully  exact  en 
belle Jille.  I  think  there  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between 
that  species  of  ceremony  which  exists  with  acquaintance, 
and  that  which  should  always  exist  with  the  best  of  friends : 
the  one  prevents  the  growth  of  affection,  the  other  preserves 
it  in  youth  and  age.  Many  foolish  people  make  fine  planta- 
tions, and  forget  to  fence  them :  so  the  young  trees  are 
deairoved  by  the  young  cattle,  and  the  bark  of  the  forest 
trees  is  sometimes  injured.  You  need  not,  dear  Miss 
Beaufort,  fence  yourself  round  with  strong  palings  in  this 
family,  where  all  have  been  early  accustomed  to  mind  their 
boundaries.  As  for  me,  you  see  my  intentions,  or  at  least 
my  theories,  are  good  enough  :  if  my  practice  be  but  half  as 
good,  you  will  be  content,  will  you  not  ?  But  theory  was 
born  in  Brobdingnag,  and  practice  in  Lilliput.  So  much  the 
better  for  me.' 

The  rapidity  with  which  Mr.  Edgeworth's  marriages 
succeeded  eacli  other  was  not  the  least  remarkable  cir- 
cumstance connected  with  them  ;  and,  although  there  is 
no  evidence  to  justify  the  presumption,  his  ill-wishers 
may  be  pardoned  for  suspecting  that  he  did  not  in- 
variably observe  the  maxim,  '  'Tis  good  to  be  off  with 
the  old  love  (or  wife),  before  you  are  on  with  tlie  new.' 
His  third  wife  died  in  November,  1797  ;  and  he  was 
married  to  the -fourth  in  May,  1798,  tlie  ceremony 
being  performed  by  her  brotlier,  the  Eev.  William 
Beaufort,  The  time  was  curiously  chosen,  for  the  re- 
bellion had  broken  out,  and  their  wedding-trip  to 
Edge  worth -Town  lay  through  the  disturbed  districts. 
One  of  the  objects  that  sorely  tried  the  nerves  of  the 
bride  was  an  improvised  gallows  in  the  sliape  of  a  car 
standing  on  end,  with  the  shafts  in  the  air,  and  a  man 
hanging  between  them. 

An  eminent  critic  (in  tlie  'Quarterly  Review')  accused 
Miss  Edgeworth  of  indelicacy  in  so  readily  sanctioning 
her  father's  marriages,  and  transferring  her  dutiful 
affections  at  his  bidding.  Tliat  she  did  so  is  extra- 
ordinary, but  not  necessarily  wrong.     With  regard  to 


HER    LIFE    AND    AVKITIXGS.  1  O.^ 

tlie  last,  she  states  that  it  was  not  till  1708,  after  the 
third  wife's  death,  during  a  visit  of  the  Beaufort 
family  at  Edgeworth-Town,  that  he  formed  the  attaeh- 
meiit  to  Miss  Beaufort : — 

'  Wlien  I  first  knew  of  this  attachment,  and  before  I  was 
well  acquainted  with  her,  I  own  I  did  not  wisli  for  the 
marriage.  I  had  not  my  father's  quick  penetration  into 
character :  I  did  not  at  first  see  the  superior  abilities  or 
qualities  which  he  discovered ;  nor  did  I  anticipate  any  of 
the  happy  consequences  from  this  union  which  he  foresaw. 
All  that  I  thought,  I  told  him.  With  tlie  most  kind 
patience  he  bore  with  me,  and,  instead  of  witlidrawing  his 
affection,  honoured  me  the  more  with  his  confidence.' 

All  resistance  and  repugnance  were  overcome  by  his 
eloquence  or  pertinacity,  and  he  closes  a  letter  to  Day 
about  a  bust,  the  upas  tj^ee,  frogs,  agriculture,  a  heating 
apparatus,  and  a  speaking  machine,  with  this  passage  : — 

'  And  now  for  my  piece  of  news,  which  I  have  kept  for 
the  last.  I  am  going  to  be  married  to  a  young  lady  of 
small  fortune  and  large  accomplishments, — compared  with 
my  age,  much  youth  (not  quite  30),  and  isore  prudence — 
some  beauty,  more  sense — uncommon  talents,  more  un- 
common temper, — liked  by  my  family,  loved  by  me.  If  I 
can  say  all  this  three  years  hence,  shall  not  I  have  been  ft 
fortunate,  not  to  say  a  wise  man  ? ' 

He  was  able  to  say  it  all  at  the  end  of  three  years 
and  long  aiterwards  ;  he  was  a  fortunate  man,  and  (if 
the  judicious  adaptation  of  means  to  the  grand  end  of 
human  life,  happiness,  be  wisdom)  a  wise  man.  There 
is  positively  no  accounting  for  his  career  without 
allowing  him  self-knowledge,  keen  insight  into 
character,  moral  courage,  and  strong  volition.  He  was 
open  to  conviction,  but,  till  he  was  convinced  of  the 
erroneousness  of  an  opinion,  he  retained  and  acted  on 
it.  He  never  '  com])lied  against  his  will,'  and  he 
resolutely  set  all  wise   saws  and  modern  instances  at 


154  MAKIA    EDGEWORTII  : 

defiance  when  lu,'  liad  deliberately  made  up  his  mind 
upon  a  point. 

In  a  letter  from  Edgeworth-Town,  November  19th, 
1798,  we  find  :— 

'  In   the   "  Monthly   Review "   for  October    there    is  tliis 
anecdote.      After  the  King   of  Denmark,  who  was  some- 
what silly,  had  left  Paris,  a  Frenchman,  who  was  in  com- 
pany with  the  Danish  ambassador,  but  did  not  know  him, 
began  to  ridicule  the    king — "  Ma  foi,  il  a  une  tete,  une 
tete" — "  Coit7'on7iee,"  replied  the  ambassador,  with  presence 
of  mind  and  politeness.     My  father,  who  was  much  delighted 
with  tliis  answer,  asked  Lovell,  Henry,  and  Sneyd,  without 
telling  the  riglit  answer,  what  they  would  have  said : 
Lovell :  "  A  head — and  a  heart,  sir." 
Henry  :  "  A  liead — upon  his  shoulders." 
Sneyd  :  "  A  head — of  a  king." 
Tell   me   which   answer  you   like   best.     Eichard  will  take 
your  "  Practical  Education  "  to  you.' 

'  Practical  Education,'  so  runs  the  comment  in  the 
Memoir,  '  was  published  this  year  (1798),  and  was 
praised  and  abused  enough  to  render  the  authors  im- 
mediately famous.'  It  was  praised  in  the  '  Monthly 
Pieview,'  wliich  devoted  two  long  articles  to  a  careful 
analysis  of  the  contents.  These  were  of  the  most 
miscellaneous  description,  and  include  everything  that 
can  affect  the  mental  or  physical  training  of  a  reasonable 
being.  It  was  abused  in  the  '  British  Critic  '  on  religious 
grounds :  '  Here,  readers,  is  education  a  la  mode,  in  the 
true  style  of  modern  [)hilosophy  ;  nearly  eight  hundred 
quarto  pages  on  practical  education,  and  not  a  word  on 
God,  religion,  Christianity,  or  a  hint  that  such  topics  are 
ever  to  be  mentioned.'  This  indignant  ultra-Christian 
might  just  as  well  have  asserted  that  there  was  not  a 
word  on  courage  and  chastity,  or  a  hint  that  such 
things  are  ever  to  be  mentioned  : — 

'  On  religion  and  politics  (they  say  in  their  preface)  we 
have  been  silent,  because  we  liave  no  ambition  to  gain 
partisans  ur  to   make   proselytes.     The   scrutinising  eye  of 


IIEK    LIFK    AM)    WRITINGS.  155 

criticism,  in  lookinj^-  over  our  taLle  of  contents,  will  also 
probably  observe  tliat  tliere  are  no  chapters  on  courage  and 
cliastity.  To  pretend  to  teach  courage  to  Eritons  would  be 
as  ridiculous  as  it  is  unnecessary  ;  and  except  to  those  who 
are  exposed  to  the  contagion  of  foreign  manners,  we  may 
boast  of  the  superior  delicacy  of  our  fair  countrywomen.' 

Here  Edgeworth  stands  confessed.  Their  respective 
shares  in  the  work  are  stated  in  tlie  preface.  All  that 
relates  to  the  art  of  teacliing  to  read  in  the  chapter  on 
tasks,  the  chapters  on  grammar  and  classical  literature, 
geography,  chronology,  arithmetic,  geometry,  and 
mechanics,  were  written  by  tlie  father,  and  tlie  rest  of 
the  book  (more  than  two-thirds)  by  the  daughter. 

Although  the  name  of  Edgew^orth  first  acquired 
literary  notoriety  by  '  Practical  Education,'  she  had 
already  been  twice  before  the  public  in  her  own  name 
and  on  her  own  account.  '  Letters  for  Literary  Ladies' 
was  published  in  1795,  and  the  '  Parent's  Assistant'  in 
1796.  Writing  to  her  cousin,  Miss  Euxton,  she  says  : — 
'  I  beg,  dear  Sophy,  that  you  will  not  call  my  little 
stories  by  the  sublime  title  of  my  works  :  I  shall  else  be 
ashamed  when  the  little  mouse  comes  forth.  The 
stories  are  printed  and  bound  the  same  size  as 
"  Evenings  at  Home,"  and  I  am  afraid  you  will  dishke 
the  title ;  my  father  had  sent  the  "  Parent's  Friend, ' 
but  Mr.  Johnson  (the  publisher)  lias  degraded  it  into 
the  "  Parent's  Assistant "  (which  I  dislike  particularly) 
from  association  with  an  old  book  of  arithmetic  called 
the  "  Tutor's  Assistant."  ' 

She  first  struck  into  her  peculiar  vein  in  '  Castle 
Eackrent'  (1800),  in  wliich  the  habits  and  manners  of 
that  strange  variety  of  the  species,  the  Irish  landlord  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  are  depicted  to  the  life.  The 
first  edition  was  published  without  her  name,  and  the 
first  notice  of  it  in  the  Memoir  runs: — 'In  1801  a 
second  edition  of  "  Castle  Eackrent "  was  published  by 
INIaria  Edgewortli,  and  its  success  was  so  triumphant 


150  MARIA    EDGEWOKTII  : 

that  some  one — I  heard  his  name  at  the  time,  but  do 
not  now  remember  it — not  only  asserted  that  he  was 
the  autlior,  but  actually  took  the  trouble  to  copy  out 
several  pages  with  corrections  and  erasures  as  if  it  was 
his  original  MS.'  In  November,  1802,  Miss  Edgeworth 
writes  from  Paris — '  "  Castle  Eackrent  "  has  been  trans- 
lated into  German,  and  we  saw  in  a  French  book  an 
extract  from  it,  giving  the  wake,  the  confinement  of 
Lady  Cathcart,  and  sweeping  the  stairs  with  the  ivig,  as 
common  and  universal  occurrences  in  that  extraordinary 
kingdom.'  Swift's  ironical  proposal  to  relieve  the  Irish 
poor  by  converting  their  children  into  food  for  the 
rich,  was  seriously  adduced  by  a  French  writer  to  illus- 
trate the  horrid  extremities  to  which  the  country  had 
been  reduced. 

'Belinda'  was  published  in  1801,  and  was  highly 
popular.  'Moral  Tales '  was  also  published  in  1801, 
with  a  preface  by  her  father,  in  which  he  explains 
that  the  tales  have  been  Avritten  by  her  to  illustrate  the 
opinions  delivered  in  '  Practical  Education,'  and  de- 
scribes the  moral  object  of  each — the  most  elTective 
mode  of  repelling  readers  that  could  well  be  contrived 
by  an  admiring  parent.  The  '  Essay  on  Irish  Bulls ' 
was  published  in  1802,  in  their  joint  names,  and  was 
reviewed  by  Sydney  Smith.  Of  course  he  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  of  quizzing  Edgeworth,  whom, 
for  that  piQ'pose,  he  insists  on  treating  as  the  chief,  if 
not  sole,  partner  in  the  firm  of  Edgeworth  &  Co. ; 
but,  whilst  condemning  the  rambling  style  of  the  com- 
position, his  criticism  is  favourable.  '  The  firm  drew 
tears  from  us  in  the  stories  of  Little  Dominiek  and  of 
the  Irish  Beggar  who  killed  his  sweetheart.  Never  was 
grief  more  natural  or  more  simple.'  Her  own  account 
of  this  book  cannot  be  passed  over  : 

'  After  "  Practical  Education,"  the  next  book  wliicli  we 
publislied  in  partnership  was  the  "  Essay  on  Irisli  J^ulls." 
The  fust  <k'si<i^n  nf  (liis  Essay  was  his  (lier  fatlu'r's)  : — under 


IIEU    LIFE    AXD    WltlTIXfiS.  157 

tlie  semblance  of  attack,  he  wished  to  show  the  En*,'lisli 
public  the  eloquence,  wit,  and  talents  of  the  lower  classes  of 
people  in  Ireland.  Working  zealously  upon  tlie  ideas  which 
he  suggested,  sometimes,  what  was  spoken  by  him,  was  after- 
wards written  by  me  ;  or  when  I  wrote  my  first  tlioughts, 
they  were  corrected  and  improved  by  him  ;  so  that  no  book 
was  ever  written  more  completely  in  partnership. 

'  On  this,  as  on  most  subjects,  whetlier  liglit  or  serious, 
when  we  wrote  together,  it  would  now  be  difficult,  almost 
impossible,  to  recollect,  which  thoughts  originally  were  his, 
and  which  were  mine.  All  passages  in  wliich  there  are 
Latin  quotations  or  classical  allusions  must  be  his  exclu- 
sively, because  I  am  entirely  ignorant  of  tlie  learned 
languages.  The  notes  on  the  Dublin  shoe-black's  metapho- 
rical language,  I  recollect,  are  cliiefly  liis. 

'  I  have  heard  him  tell  that  story  with  all  the  natural, 
indescribable  Irish  tones  and  gestures,  of  which  written 
language  can  give  but  a  faint  idea.  He  excelled  in  imitating 
the  Irish  because  he  never  overstepped  the  modesty  or  the 
assurance  of  nature.  He  marked  exquisitely  the  happy 
confidence,  the  shrewd  wit  of  the  people,  without  con- 
descending to  produce  effect  by  caricature.' 

The  speech  (she  adds)  of  the  poor  fi'eeholder  to  a 
candidate,  iu  the  chapter  entitled  '  Irisli  ^Y\t  and 
Eloquence,'  was  made  to  her  father,  and  written  down 
b}^  her  witliin  a  few  hours  from  his  dictation.  In  tl^ 
same  chapter  are  the  com])laint  of  the  poor  widow 
against  her  landlord,  and  his  reply,  quoted  in  Camp- 
bell's  '  Lectures  on  Eloquence,'  under  a  notion  tliat 
tliey  were  fictitious.  Slie  declares  tliem  to  be  unem- 
belhshed  facts :  her  father  being  tlie  magistrate  before 
whom  the  rival  orators  appeared. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  relates  that  a  gentleman  nnich  inte- 
rested in  improving  the  breed  of  Irisli  cattle,  sent,  on 
seeing  the  advertisement,  for  the  work  on  Irish  bulls : 
'  he  was  rather  confounded  by  the  a])pearance  of  the 
classical  hull  at  the  top  of  the  first  page  which  I  had 
designed  Jroni  a  gem,  and  wli(^n   he   began  to  ri'ad  the 


158  MARIA    EDGEWORTII  : 

book  lie  threw  it  away  in  disgust :  lie  had  purchased  it 
as  secretary  to  the  Irish  Agricultural  Society. 

In  the  autumn  of  1802,  dimng  the  peace  of  Amiens, 
Mr.  and  jMi's,  Edgeworth,  their  two  daughters  and 
Maria,  went  to  Paris,  taking  Belgium  in  their  way. 
Her  accoiuit  of  their  travels  is  lively  and  sensible, 
and  they  appear  to  have  known  almost  everybody 
worth  knowing :  Madame  Eecamier,  Comte  and  Com- 
tesse  de  Segur,  La  Harpe,  Suard,  Boissy  d'Anglas, 
Montmorenci,  Camille  Jordan,  Kosciusko,  and  Lally 
Tollendal  are  specially  mentioned.  One  long  letter 
is  entirely  filled  with  a  visit  to  Madame  de  Genlis, 
who  is  admirably  described.  But  we  can  only  afford 
room  for  Madame  d'Houdetot,  the  Julie  of  Eousseau, 
with  whom  they  breakfasted  at  the  Abbe  Marellet's  : 

'  Jidie  is  now  seventy-two  years  of  age,  a  tliin  woman  in  a 
little  black  bonnet :  she  ajspeared  to  me  shockingly  ngly  ; 
she  squints  so  much  tliat  it  is  impossible  to  tell  which  way 
she  is  looking :  but  no  sooner  did  I  hear  her  speak  than  I 
began  to  like  her ;  and  no  sooner  was  I  seated  beside  her, 
than  I  began  to  find  in  her  countenance  a  most  benevolent 
and  agreeable  expression.  She  entered  into  conversation 
immediately :  her  manner  invited  and  could  not  fail  to 
obtain  confidence.  She  seems  as  gay  and  open-hearted  as 
a  girl  of  seventeen.  It  has  been  said  of  her  that  she  not 
only  never  did  any  harm,  but  never  suspected  any.  ...  I 
wish  I  could  at  seventy-two  be  such  a  woman  ! 

'  She  told  me  that  Ivousseau,  whilst  he  was  writing  so 
finely  on  education  and  leaving  his  own  children  in  the 
Foundling  Hospital,  defended  himself  witli  so  much  eloquence 
that  even  those  wlio  blamed  him  in  their  hearts,  could  not 
find  tongues  to  answer  him.  Once  at  a  dinner  at  Madame 
d'Houdctot's  there  was  a  fine  pyramid  of  fruit.  Kousseau  in 
lielping  himself  took  the  peach  which  formed  tlie  base  of  the 
pyramid,  and  the  rest  fell  immediately.  "  Eousseau,"  said 
she,  "  that  is  what  you  always  do  with  all  our  systems,  you 
pull  down  with  a  single  toucli,  but  who  will  liuild  up  wliat 
you  pidl  down?"  I  asked  if  lie  was  grateful  for  all  the 
kindness  sliown  to  liim  ?     "No:  lie  was  nnuialcfiil  :   lie  liad 


HER    LIFE    AND    WRITINGS.  150 

a  thousand  bad  qualities,  but  I  turned  my  attention  from 
them  to  his  genius  and  the  good  he  had  done  mankind." ' 

One  sentence  in  her  general  estimate  came  upon  us  by 
surprise  :  '  I  have  never  heard  any  person  talk  of  dress 
or  fashion  since  we  came  to  Paris,  and  very  little 
scandal.     A  scandahnonger  would  be  starved  here.' 

Tlie  grand  event  of  her — of  every  woman's — life 
came  to  pass  at  this  period.  On  quitting  Paris  in 
March,  1803,  she  could  say  for  the  first  time,  Ich  hahe 
gelebt  und  geliebet  (I  have  lived  and  loved).  Abruptly 
closing  her  catalogue  of  new  acquanitance,  she  adds  : 

'  Here,  my  dear  aunt,  I  was  interrupted  in  a  manner  that 
will  surprise  you  as  much  as  it  surprised  me,  by  the  coming 
in  of  Monsieur  Edelcrantz,  a  Swedish  gentleman,  whom  we 
have  mentioned  to  you,  of  superior  understanding  and  mild 
manners  :  he  came  to  offer  me  his  hand  and  heart ! ! 

'My  heart,  you  may  suppose,  cannot  return  his  attach- 
ment, for  I  have  seen  but  very  little  of  him,  and  have  not 
had  time  to  have  formed  any  judgment,  except  that  I  think 
nothing  could  tempt  me  to  leave  my  OAvn  dear  friends  and 
my  owa.  country  to  live  in  Sweden.' 

In  a  letter  to  her  cousin  on  8th  December,  1802 
(the  proposal  was  on  the  1st),  after  explaining  that 
M.  Edelcrantz  was  bound  to  Sweden  by  ties  of  dutj^ 
as  strong  as  those  which  bound  her  to  Edge  worth- 
Town,  she  "WTites :  '  Tliis  is  all  very  reasonable,  but 
reasonable  for  him  only,  not  for  me;  and  I  have  never 
felt  anything  for  liim  but  esteem  and  gratitude.'  Com- 
menting on  tliis  passage,  Mrs.  Edgeworth  says : 

'  ^Nlaria  was  mistaken  as  to  her  own  feeling-s.  She  refused 
]\I.  Edelcrantz,  but  she  felt  much  more  for  him  than  esteem 
and  admiration :  she  was  extremely  in  love  with  him. 
jNIr.  Edgeworth  left  her  to  decide  for  herself;  but  she  saw 
too  plainly  wliat  it  would  he  to  us  to  lose  her,  and  what  she 
would  feel  at  parting  from  us.  She  decided  riglitly  for  lier 
own  future  happiness  and  for  that  of  her  family,  but  she 
suffered  mucli  at  the  time  and  long  afterwards.     While  we 


IGO  MARIA    EDGEWOKTH  : 

were  at  Paris,  I  remember  that  in  a  shop  where  Charlotte 
and  I  were  making  some  purchases,  Maria  sat  apart  absorbed 
in  thought,  and  so  deep  in  reverie,  that  when  her  father  came 
in  and  stood  opposite  to  her,  she  did  not  see  him  till  he  spoke 
to  her,  when  she  started  and  burst  into  tears.  ...  I  do  not 
think  she  repented  of  her  refusal,  or  regretted  her  decision  ; 
she  was  well  aware  that  she  could  not  have  made  him  happy, 
that  she  would  not  have  suited  his  position  at  the  Court  of 
Stockholm,  and  that  her  want  of  beauty  might  have 
diminished  his  attachment.  It  was  better  perhaps  she  should 
tliink  so,  as  it  calmed  her  mind,  but  from  what  I  saw  of 
]M.  Edelcrantz,  I  think  he  was  a  man  capable  of  really  valuing 
her.  I  believe  that  he  was  much  attached  to  her,  and  deeply 
mortified  at  her  refusal.  He  continued  to  reside  in  Sweden 
after  the  abdication  of  his  master,  and  was  always  distinguished 
for  his  high  character  and  great  abilities.  He  never  married. 
He  was,  except  very  fine  eyes,  remarkably  plain.' 

This  is  an  interesting  and  instructive  episode.  It 
lets  in  a  flood  of  ligbt  upon  those  passages  of  lier 
writings  which  inculcate  the  stern  control  of  the  feel- 
ings,— the  never-ceasing  vigilance  with  which  prudence 
and  duty  are  to  stand  sentinel  over  the  heart.  So  then, 
she  had  actually  undergone  the  hard  trials  she  imposes 
and  describes.  Tliey  best  can  paint  tliem  who  can 
feel  them  most.  She  was  no  Madame  d'Aul)ray,  witli 
ideas  of  self-sacrifice  admirably  adapted  for  others' 
uses  but  disagreeably  unfitted  for  her  own ;  and  before 
setting  down  her  precepts  of  self-command  under 
temptation,  she  had  tested  them.  Caroline  Percy  (in 
'  Patronage  ')  controUing  her  love  for  Count  Altenberg, 
is  Maria  Ed<:«;eworth  subduinf;^  her  love  for  the  Cheva- 
lier  Edelcrantz. 

On  the  27th  January,  1803,  Edgeworth  received  a 
jieremptory  order  fi'om  the  French  Government  to 
ijuit  Paris,  and  he  went  to  Passy  with  his  daughter, 
whilst  liis  fri(!nds  investigated  tlie  cause.  It  turned 
out  to  be  a  belief  tliat  he  was  the  brother  of  tlie  Abbe 
Edgovvurth,    who    luid    attended    Louis    Seize    on    the 


HER    LIFE   AND   WRITINGS.  161 

scaffold.  So  soon  as  the  exact  degree  of  relatioiisliip 
was  made  known  tlirough  Lord  Whitworth,  tlie  order 
was  witlidrawn ;  but  tliey  received  private  informa- 
tion which  induced  them  to  leave  France,  just  time 
enough  to  get  awaj^,  Lovell,  the  eldest  son,  was 
stopped  on  his  journey  from  Geneva  to  Paris,  and 
remained  a  detenu  till  the  end  of  the  war  in  1814. 

'  After  our  return,  Maria  immediately  occupied  her- 
self with  preparing  for  the  press  "  Popular  Tales," 
which  were  publisiied  this  year  (1803).  She  also 
began  "  Emilie  de  Coulanges,"  "  Madame  de  Fleury," 
and  "  Enimi,"  and  wrote  "  Leonora,"  w^th  the  romantic 
purpose  I  have  already  mentioned.'  The  romantic 
purpose  was  to  please  the  Chevalier  Edelcrantz.  It 
was  written  in  the  style  he  preferred ;  and  '  the  idea 
of  what  he  would  think  of  it  (says  Mrs.  Edgeworth) 
was,  I  believe,  present  to  her  in  every  page  she  wrote. 
She  never  heard  that  he  had  even  read  it.'  She  also 
found  time  to  write  '  Griselda '  at  odd  moments  in  her 
own  room. 

'Popular  Tales'  appeared  in  1804,  with,  as  usual,  a 
preface  by  the  father,  which  might  have  been  spared  : 
e.  g.  '  Burke  supposes  that  there  are  eighty  thousand 
readers  in  Great  Britain,  nearly  one  hundredth  part  of 
its  inhabitants.  Out  of  these  we  may  calculate  that 
ten  thousand  are  nobility,  clergy,  or  gentlemen  of  the 
learned  professions.  Of  seventy  thousand  readers  which 
remain,  there  are  many  who  miglit  be  amused  and  in- 
structed by  books  which  were  not  professedly  adapted 
to  the  classes  which  have  been  enumerated.  With  this 
view  tlie  following  volumes  liave  been  composed.'  We 
can  hardly  tliink  so,  even  on  tlie  paternal  assurance. 
The  heroes  and  heroines  do  not  belong  to  the  nobility, 
clergy,  or  gentry,  it  is  true.  They  are  mostly  farmers 
or  tradespeople.  Leonard  Ludgate,  in  '  Out  of  Debt 
out  of  Danger,'  is  the  only  son  and  heir  of  a  London 
haberdasher,  wlio  marries  Miss  Bella  Perkins,  a  would- 

VOL.    I.  M 


162  MAFJA    EDGEWOKTII  : 

be  fine  lady.^  But  is  this  a  reason  why  these  tales 
should  be  less  adapted,  professedly  or  uuprofessedly,  to 
the  upper  ten  thousand  ?  Is  the  class  of  readers  deter- 
mined by  the  rank  in  life  of  the  persons  who  figure  in 
a  novel  ?  Do  the  nobility  throw  it  aside  disdainfully 
when  they  find  tliat  it  does  not  deal  with  nobility,  or  do 
people  of  humble  birth,  or  ungenteel  callings,  lay  it 
down  with  despair  when  it  brings  them  face  to  face  with 
a  clergyman,  a  barrister,  or  a  lord  ?  Some  such  notion 
was  obviously  in  Mr.  Edgeworth's  mind  when  he  penned 
this  preface. 

The  first  series  of  '  Tales  of  Fashionable  Life,'  pub- 
lished in  1809,  contained  'Ennui,'  'Madame  de  Fleury,' 
'  The  Dun,'  '  Manoeuvring,'  and  '  Almeria  ; '  the  second, 
pubhshed  in  1812,  '  Vivian,'  '  The  Absentee,'  'Madame 
de  Fleury,'  and  '  Emilie  de  Coulanges.'  '  The  Absen- 
tee '  originally  formed  part  of '  Patronage,'  where  Lord 
and  Lady  Tipperary  figured  as  patients  of  Dr.  Percy, 
and  '  Patronage '  was  to  have  formed  part  of  the  second 
series  of  the  Tales  ;  but  the  impatience  of  the  publisher 
induced  her  to  lay  aside  '  Patronage,'  and  (with  a 
change  of  name)  fill  the  required  space  in  the  series 
with  '  The  Absentee.'  '  Patronage,'  published  in  1813, 
had  been  long  upon  the  stocks.  Its  history  is  narrated 
in  her  continuation  of  her  father's  Memoirs : 

'  Among  others  written  many  years  ago,  was  one  called 
"  the  History  of  the  Freeman  Family."  In  1787,  my  father, 
to  amuse  ^Nlrs.  EUzabeth  Edgeworth,  when  she  was  recovering 
after  the  birth  of  one  of  my  brothers,  related  to  us  every 
evening,  when  we  assembled  in  her  room,  part  of  this  story, 
which  I  believe  he  invented  as  he  went  on.  It  was  found  so 
interesting  by  his  audience,  that  they  regretted  mucli  that 
it  should  not  be  preserved,  and  I  in  consequence  began  to 
write  it  from  memory.  The  phm,  founded  on  the  story  of 
two  families,  one  making  their  way  in  the  world  by  indepen- 

^  It  is  a  coincidence  worth  mentioning  that  tlie  plot  of  this  story  is 
in  parts  identifal  with  that  of  '  liaison  Neuve,'  a  comedy,  by  M.  Victorien 
Savdoii,  author  of  '  La  Famille  Jieuoiton.' 


TIER    LIFE    AXD    AVRITIXGS.  163 

dent  efforts,  the  other  by  mean  arts  and  by  courting  tlie 
great,  was,  long  afterwards,  the  ground-work  of  "  Patronage." 
The  character  of  Lord  Oldborough  was  added,  but  most  of 
the  others  remained  as  my  father  originally  described  them  : 
liis  hero  and  heroine  "svere  in  greater  difficulties  than  mine, 
more  in  love,  and  consequently  more  interesting,  and  the 
whole  story  was  infinitely  more  entertaining,  I  mention 
this,  because  some  critics  took  it  for  granted  that  he  wrote 
parts  of  "  Patronage,"  of  which,  in  truth,  he  did  not  write, 
to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  any  single  passage ;  and  it 
is  remarkable,  that  they  have  ascribed  to  him  all  those 
faults  which  were  exclusively  mine :  the  original  design, 
which  was  really  his,  and  which  I  altered,  had  all  tliat  merit 
of  lively  action  and  interest,  in  which  mine  lias  been  found 
deficient.' 

It  is  recorded,  in  proof  of  the  extent  to  which  '  Cla- 
rissa '  had  fastened  on  the  public  mind  before  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  concluding  volumes,  that  Piichardson 
received  letter  after  letter  passionately  entreating  him 
to  spare  the  heroine  the  crowning  misery,  or,  if  that 
could  not  be,  to  reform  Lovelace  and  marry  him  to  his 
victim.  Eemonstrances  of  the  same  kind  appear  to 
have  been  addressed  to  the  author  of  '  Patronage  '  by 
tender-hearted  readers,  who  could  not  bear  to  see  Mr. 
Percy  in  prison,  and  were  especially  hurt  by  Caroline's 
refusal  to  ""o  abroad  with  Count  Altenbers:.  In  tlf^ 
third  edition  (1815)  these  alleged  blots  were  removed, 
although  she  had  scruples  touching  material  changes 
after  the  publication  of  a  work.  In  a  note  to  the '  Con- 
trast,' she  Jiad  said :  '  Those  who  wish  to  know  the 
history  of  all  the  wedding  clothes  of  the  parties,  may 
have  their  curiosity  gratified  by  directing  a  line  of  in- 
quiry, post  paid,  to  the  editor  herself.'  Referring  to 
tlie  letters  of  inquiry  thus  invited,  she  writes  : — 

'  I  have  liad  another  odd  letter  signed  by  three  young 
ladies,  Clarissa  Craven,  Rachel  Biddle,  and  Eliza  Finch, 
who,  after  sundry  compliments  in  very  pretty  language, 
and  with  all  the  appearance  of  seriousness,  beg  that  I  will  do 

M  2 


164  M.\RIA   EDGEWORTII  : 

them  the  favour  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  tliey  feel  ahout  the 
wedding  dresses  of  the  Frankland  family  in  the  "  Contrast." 
I  have  answered  in  a  way  that  will  stand  for  either  jest  or 
earnest ;  I  have  said  tliat  at  a  sale  of  Admiral  Tipsey's 
smuggled  goods,  Mrs.  Hungerford  bought  French  cambric 
muslin  wedding  gowns  for  the  brides,  the  collars  trimmed 
in  the  most  becoming  manner,  as  a  Monmouth  milliner 
assured  me,  with  Valenciennes  lace,  from  Admiral  Tipsey's 
spoils.  I  have  given  all  the  particulars  of  the  bridegroom's 
accoutrements,  and  signed  myself  the  young  ladies'  "  obedient 
servant  and  perliaps  dupe." ' 

In  May,  1813,  the  family  paid  a  fljnng  visit  to  Lon- 
don, and  there  is  an  admirable  letter  from  her,  filling 
between  seven  and  eight  pages,  describing  their  recep- 
tion in  the  best  houses.  On  this  and  subsequent  occa- 
sions, she  had  been  accused  of  an  undue  leaning  to 
rank  and  fashion ;  but  tlie  fashionable  world  of  her 
day  included  celebrities  of  all  sorts — literary,  scientific, 
artistic,  and  political — as  well  as  people  of  birtli,  for- 
tune, and  connection.  The  most  cherished  of  her 
friends  were  those  whose  names  were  and  are  habitually 
associated  with  intellectual  excellence,  refinement,  and 
grace.  The  Marchioness  of  Lansdowne,  Lady  Crewe, 
Lady  Elizabeth  Wliitbread,  Miss  Fox,  Mrs.  Hope  (I^ady 
Beresford),  the  Misses  Berry,  Miss  Catharine  Fanshawe, 
Lady  Spencer,  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay,  the  Countess  of 
Cliarleville,  Lydia  White,  Mrs.  Siddons,  Lady  Milbanke, 
were  of  the  number.  She  speaks  tluis  of  another,  whom 
she  had  known  from  girlhood  : — 

'  Charming,  amiable.  Lady  Wellington  1  as  she  truly  said 
of  herself,  she  is  always  "  Kitty  Pakenham  to  her  friends ;  " 
after  comparison  with  ci'owds  of  other  heaux-esprits,  fine 
ladies  and  fasliionable  scramblers  for  notoriety,  her  dignified 
graceful  simplicity  rises  in  our  opinion,  and  we  feel  it  with 
more  conviction  of  its  superiority.  She  sliowed  us  her  de- 
lightful children.  I  have  been  standing  in  my  dressing- 
gown  writing  on  the  top  of  a  chest  of  drawers,  and  now  I 
must  dress  for  a  breakfost  at  Lady  Davy's,  where  we  are  to 


HER   LIFE   AXD   WEITIXGS.  165 

meet  Lord  Byron  ;  but  I  must  say  that  at  the  third  place 
where  we  were  let  in  yesterday,  Lady  Wellington's,  we  spent 
by  far  the  most  agreeable  half-liour  of  the  day.' 

The  Edgewortlis  were  persons  of  l)irth,  fortune,  and 
connection,  in  addition  to  their  literary  claims,  and 
simply  assumed  their  natural  place  when  they  joined 
the  aristocratic  circles,  which  eagerly  courted  them. 
There  is  nothing,  therefore,  at  all  odd,  much  less  repre- 
hensible, in  her  notices  of  London  life  being  principally 
confined  to  tlie  precincts  of  May  Fair.  At  all  events, 
they  were  not  confined  to  fnie  ladies.  S})eaking  of  the 
same  period,  Mrs.  Edgeworth  says  :  '  One  day,  coming 
too  late  to  dinner  at  Mr.  Horner's,  we  found  Dr.  Parr 
very  angry  at  our  having  delayed  and  then  interrupted 
dinner;  but  he  ended  by  giving  Maria  his  blessing.' 
This  is  probably  the  occasion  on  whicli  Edgeworth 
boasted  before  Lord  Byron  of  having  put  down  Parr. 
She  adds  :  '  We  unfortunately  missed  seeing  Madame 
d'Arblay,  and  we  left  London  before  the  arrival  of 
Madame  de  Stael.'  Tliis  falls  in  with  a  story  printed 
in  Moore's  diary  : — 

'  In  talking  of  getting  into  awkward  scrapes  at  dinner 
tables.  Lady  Dunmore  mentioned  a  circumstance  of  the  kind 
in  which  Kogers  was  concerned.  It  was  at  the  time  when 
Madame  de  Stael  was  expected  in  London,  and  somebody 
at  table  (there  being  a  large  party)  asked  when  she  was 
likely  to  arrive.  "Not  till  Miss  Edgeworth  is  gone," 
replied  Eogers :  "  Madame  de  Stael  would  not  like  two 
stars  shining  at  tlie  same  time."  The  words  were  hardly 
out  of  his  mouth,  when  he  saw  a  gentleman  rise  at  the 
other  end  of  the  table,  and  say  in  a  solemn  tone : 
"  Madame  la  Baronne  de  Stael  est  incapable  dhine  telle 
bassesse."  It  was  Auguste  de  Stael,  her  son,  whom 
Eogers  had  never  before  seen.' 

Two  curious  traits  of  children,  who  have  since  fully 
justified  the  expectations  formed  of  them,  were  set  down 
by  her  in  1813:— 

'  April  25,181 3.— I  enclose  the  Butterfly's  Ball  for  Sophy, 


1  66  MAEIA   EDGEWOKTH  : 

and  a  letter  to  the  King  written  by  Dr.  (Sir  Henry)  Holland 
when  six  years  old :  his  father  found  him  going  with  it  to 
the  post.  (This  letter  was  an  offer  from  Master  Holland  to 
raise  a  regiment.  He  and  some  of  his  little  comrades  liad 
got  a  drum  and  a  flag,  and  used  to  go  througli  the  manual 
exercise.  It  was  a  pity  the  letter  did  not  reach  the 
King  :  he  would  have  been  delighted  with  it.') 

^  Augtist,  1813. — We  have  just  seen  a  journal  by  a  little 
boy  of  eight  years  old,  of  a  voyage  from  England  to  Sicily ; 
the  boy  is  Lord  Mahon's  son.  Lord  Carringtou's  grandson. 
It  is  one  of  the  best  journals  I  ever  read,  full  of  facts  :  exactly 
the  writing  of  a  child,  but  a  very  clever  child.' 

This  very  clever  cliild  is  the  present  Earl  Stanhope. 

'  Harrington  '  and  '  Ormond,'  with  '  Thoughts  on 
Bores  '  (two  volumes),  was  published  in  May,  1817,  with 
the  usual  preface  by  Edgeworth,  the  last  he  was  destined 
to  write.  He  died  on  the  13th  of  June  following  ;  and, 
])artly  from  grief,  partly  from  a  complaint  in  her  eyes. 
Miss  Edgeworth  wrote  hardly  any  letters  for  many 
months.  As  soon  as  she  was  sufficiently  recovered 
from  the  shock,  she  set  to  work  to  complete  her  father's 
Memoirs,  wliich  she  had  to  take  up  and  continue  from 
1782.  The  whole  of  the  second  volume  is  by  lier. 
The  work  is  amusing  :  many  incidents  and  traits  of  cha- 
racter are  recorded  in  it,  which  would  have  left  a 
chasm  in  lier  own  biography  had  they  been  lost ;  but 
it  was  the  least  successful  of  their  joint  productions,  and 
her  part  was  perceptibly  impaired  by  its  being  too 
much  a  labour  of  love.  It  was  criticised  in  the  '  Quar- 
terly Eeview'  (Oct.  1 820)  Avith  extreme  bitterness,  and 
in  a  manner  (whatever  the  intention)  ])articularly 
adapted  to  give  j)ain,  not  only  to  Maria,  but  to  tlie  en- 
tire faiiiil\^;  for  tlie  four  marriages  (to  wliich  tlie  re- 
viewer tried  hard  to  add  a  fifth)  were  made  tlie  mark 
of  much  moral  indignation,  real  or  simulated.  Dumont 
wrote  to  her :  '  If  by  accident  you  have  not  read  this 
iiifatnous  article,  I  should  advise  you  not  to  read  it, 
and  to  abandon   it  to  public  contempt.'     Mrs.   Marcct 


HER    LIFE    AND    WRITINGS.  167 

spoke  of  it  as  a  subject  ■which  made  lier  blood  boil,  and 
'roused  every  feehng  of  contempt  and  abhorrence.' 
Miss  Edgeworth  wrote  at  once  to  her  aunt  from  Paris 
(Nov,  1820):  'Never  lose  another  night's  sleep  or 
another  moment's  thought  on  the  "  Quarterly  Eeview." 
1  have  never  read,  and  never  will  read  it.'  She  kept 
her  word. 

Having  finished  the  Memoirs,  she  determined  to 
indulge  herself  in  what  she  had  long  projected,  a  visit 
to  Paris  with  her  two  young  sisters  (by  the  fourth 
marriage)  Fanny  and  Harriet,  and  we  find  them  settled 
in  the  Place  du  Palais  Bourbon  on  April  29,  1820. 

In  one  of  her  letters  fi-om  Paris,  she  says :  '  I  find 
always  when  I  come  to  the  end  of  my  ])aper  that  I 
have  not  told  you  several  entertaining  things  I  had 
treasured  up  for  you.  I  had  a  history  of  a  man 
and  woman  from  Cochin  China  which  must  now  be 
squeezed  almost  to  death.'  This  will  be  just  oiu-  case. 
We  shall  come  to  the  end  of  our  paper  without  being 
able  to  brino-  in  a  tithe  of  the  entertainino-  and  better 
than  entertaining,  things  we  had  noted  down :  we  have 
more  than  one  history  which  must  be  squeezed  almost 
to  death  or  never  five  at  all  in  our  pages.  Her  letters 
sparkle  with  brilhant  names,  and,  in  most  instanc«8, 
with  fresh  anecdotes  or  reminiscences  attached  to 
them.  The  doors  of  all  the  leading  houses  flew  open 
at  her  approach,  including  those  of  the  Fauxbourg  St. 
Germain ;  for  the  connexion  with  the  Abbe  Edgeworth 
had  now  become  a  safe  passport  to  the  houses  of  the 
ancient  noblesse.  The  French  always  spoke  of  him  as 
the  Abbe  de  Firmont,  a  name  he  had  taken  on  account 
of  the  difficulty  they  found  in  the  w  and  th ;  Edgei'at^ 
being  their  nearest  approximation  to  the  sound.  At 
one  house,  a  valet,  after  Maria  had  several  times  re- 
peated 'Edgeworth,'  exclaimed,  '  Ah,je  renonce  a  qa  ; 
and,  throwing  open  the  door  of  the  salon,  announced, 
'  j\Iadame  Maria  et  Mesdemoiselles  ses  soeurs.'     B^•roll 


168  MARIA    EDGE  WORTH: 

Speaks  of  some  Eussian  or  Polisli  names  as  '  names  that 
would  descend  to  posterity  if  posterity  could  but  pro- 
noiuice  tliem.'  Many  English  names  are  exposed  to 
the  same  disadvantage.  An  English  traveller  (the 
writer)  spent  halfan-hour  one  evening  at  Tieck's  at 
Dresden,  in  1834,  vainly  endeavouring  to  teach  some 
German  ladies  how  to  pronounce  '  Wordsworth.'  Few 
of  them  got  nearer  than  'Yudvutt.' 

The  form  of  the  visiting  cards  of  the  party,  adopted 
(she  says)  after  due  deliberation,  was  '  Madame  Maria 
Edgeworth  et  Mesdemoiselles  ses  soeurs.'  Her  sisters 
were  attractive  girls,  and  she  had  no  reason  to  com- 
plain of  being  over-weighted  with  them,  particidarly 
at  Paris,  where  a  guest  more  or  less,  even  at  a  dinner 
party,  was  never  so  serious  an  affair  as  we  are  wont  to 
make  of  it.  A  notion  of  their  Parisian  life  may  be 
conveyed  in  a  brief  extract : 

'  We  have  seen  Mademoiselle  Mars  twice  or  thrice  rather, 
in  the  "Mariage  de  Figaro"  and  in  the  little  pieces  of 
"  Le  Jaloux  sans  Amour,"  and  "  La  Jeunesse  de  Henri  Cinq," 
and  admire  lier  exceedingly.  In  petit  comite  the  other  night 
at  the  Duchesse  d'Escars',  a  discussion  took  place  between 
the  Duchesse  de  la  Force,  Marmont,  and  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  on 
tlie  hon  et  mauvais  ton  of  different  expressions — bonne 
societe  is  an  expression  bourgeoise — you  may  say  bonne 
compar/nie  or  let  haute  societe.  "  Voila  des  nuances,^^  as- 
Madame  d'Escars  said.  Such  a  wonderfid  jabbering  as  these 
grandees  made  about  these  small  matters.  It  put  me  in 
mind  of  a  conversation  in  the  "  World  "  on  good  company, 
which  we  all  used  to  admire.' 

Yet  Marmont  and  Pozzo  di  Borgo  were  grandees  of 
no  common  order.  She  met  all  the  scientific  men  of 
note  at  Cuvier's,  who  gave  a  good  instance  of  Bona- 
parte's insisting  on  a  decided  answer.  lie  asked  me, 
'Faut-il  inti-oduire  le  sucre  de  betterave  en  France  .P' 
'  D'abord,  Sire,  il  faut  songer  a  vos  colonies.' — '  Faut-il 
avoir   le    sucre    de   betterave    en    France  ? '     '  Mais, 


HER   LIFE    AND    ^\TIITIXGS.  169 

Sire,  il  faut   examiner.' — '  Bali  !  je    le  demanderai  h 
BerthoUet.' 

She  says  of  Benjamin  Constant : — 

'  I  do  not  like  him  at  all :  his  countenance,  voice,  manner, 
and  conversation  are  all  disagreeable  to  me.  He  is  a  fair, 
ivhithky-looking  man  {sic),  very  near-sighted,  with  spectacles 
wliich  seem  to  pinch  his  nose.  .  .  .  He  has  been  well  called 
the  heros  des  brochures.  We  sat  beside  one  another,  and  I 
think  we  felt  a  mutual  antipathy.  On  the  other  side  of  me 
was  Eoyer  Collard,  suffering  with  toothache  and  swelled  face ; 
but  notwithstanding  the  distortion  of  the  swelling,  the  natural 
expression  of  his  countenance  and  the  strength  and  sincerity 
of  his  soul  made  their  way,  and  the  frankness  of  his  character 
and  the  plain  superiority  of  his  talents  were  manifest  in  five 
minutes'  conversation.' 

After  leaving  Paris  tliey  made  a  short  tour  in 
Switzerland,  and  passed  some  delightful  days  at  Ge- 
neva durinf?  what  has  been  termed  its  AuQ-ustan  as^e. 
Dumont  acted  as  their  guide,  and  one  of  their  first 
dinners  was  at  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marcet's,  with  Dumont, 
M.  and  Madame  Prevost,  M.  de  la  Eive,  M.  Bonstetten 
(Gray's  friend),  and  M.  de  Candolle.  During  a  visit  to 
Coppet,  where  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Broglie  then 
were,  she  is  able  to  exclaim  exultingly,  '  Here  we  axe 
in  the  very  apartments  occupied  by  M.  Necker,  open- 
ing into  what  is  noAv  the  library,  but  what  was  once 
that  theatre  on  which  Madame  de  Stael  used  to  act 
her  own  Corinne  '  .  .  .  '  There  is  something  inexpres- 
sibly melancholy,  awful,  in  this  house,  in  these  rooms, 
where  the  thought  continually  occurs,  Here  genius 
was !  here  was  ambition  !  here  all  the  great  struggles 
of  the  passions  !  here  was  Madame  de  Staiil ! ' 

'  With  Madame  de  Stael  and  Madame  de  Broghe  (it 
is  added  in  the  Memoir)  Maria  was  particularly  happy ; 
and  there  are  two  anecdotes  of  Madame  de  Stael  which 
we  cannot  make  up  our  minds  to  forego.  The  first 
was  related  bv  Dumont : 


170  MAE  I A   EDGE  WORTH: 

'  One  day  M.  Suard,  as  lie  entered  the  saloon  of  the  hotel 
Necker,  saw  Madame  Neckei-  going  out  of  the  room,  and 
INIademoiselle  Necker  standing-  in  a  melancholy  attitude  with 
tears  iu  her  eyes.  Guessing  that  jMadame  Necker  had  been 
lectm'ing  her,  Suard  went  towards  her  to  comfort  her,  and 
whispered,  '  Une  caresse  du  papa  vous  dedommagera  bien 
de  tout  Qa.''  She  immediately,  wiping  the  tears  from  her 
eyes,  answered,  '  Eh  I  oui,  Monsieur,  mon  pere  songe  a  mon 
honheur  present,  onamma  songe  a  inion  avenirJ  There  was 
more  than  presence  of  mind,  there  was  heart  and  soul  and 
greatness  of  mind  in  this  answer.' 

Miss  Edijfewortli  took  down  from  the  Duchess  of 
Wellington's  own  lips  a  dialogue  between  herself  and 
Madame  de  Stael  on  a  remarli:able  occasion.  The 
Duchess  had  purposely  avoided  making  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Madame  de  Stael  in  England,  not  knowing 
how  she  might  be  received  by  the  Bourbons  after  the 
Eestoration.  Finding  on  her  arrival  at  Paris  that  Co- 
rinne  was  w^ell  received,  she  invited  her  to  her  first 
assembly.  She  came,  and  walking  up  straight  to  the 
Duchess  with  flashing  eyes,  began  : 

'  Eh  !  Madame  la  Duchesse,  vous  ne  vouliez  pas  done  faire 
ma  connaissance  en  Angleterre  ? 

'  Non,  Madame,  je  ne  le  voulais  pas. 

'  Eh  !  comment,  jNIadame  ?    Pourquoi  done  ? 

'  C'est  que  je  vous  craignais,  Madame. 

'  Vous  me  craignez,  Madame  la  Duchesse  ? 

'Non,  Madame,  je  ne  vous  crains  plus. 

'Madame  de  Stael  threw  her  arms  round  her  :  Ah,  je  vous 
adore.' 

The  party  return  to  England  at  tlie  beginning  of 
December  1820,  and  we  next  find  them  at  Bowood, 
where  Miss  Edgeworth  was  a  frequent  and  welcome 
guest.  On(;e  when  Moore  met  her  there,  after  record- 
ing in  liis  Diary  the  effect  of  his  singing  (which  he 
never  omits  to  record)  on  Dugald  Stewart,  he  adds : 
'  Miss  Edgeworlli,  too,  was  mucli  affected.  Hiis  is  a 
deliglitfiil  ti'iunipli,  to  loucli   tJie  higher  spirits.'     At  a 


TIER    LIFE    AND    WRITIXCIS.  171 

later  period,  iu  reference  to  an  invitation  to  breakfast 
at  Eogers',  he  sets  down :  '  Went,  and  found  Miss 
Edgeworth,  Luttrell,  Lord  Normanby  and  Sliarpe. 
Miss  Edgcwortli,  with  all  her  cleverness,  anything  but 
agreeable.  The  moment  any  one  begins  to  speak,  off 
slie  starts  too,  seldom  more  tlian  a  sentence  behind 
them,  and  in  general  contrives  to  distance  every 
speaker.  Neither  does  what  she  say,  tliough  of  course 
very  sensible,  at  all  make  up  for  tliis  over-activity  of 
tongue.'  Moore  (like  Eogers)  judged  people  sub- 
jectively, not  objectively — from  his  own  feelings,  sym- 
pathies or  antipathies,  not  from  their  qualities,  merits  or 
demerits.  We  are  as  certain  as  if  we  had  been  present 
that  Miss  Edgeworth  put  him  out,  anticipated  him  in 
a  liivourite  story,  or  added  a  touch  of  Irish  humour 
which  he  had  let  slip.  From  personal  recollection  of 
her  manner  of  conversing,  we  can  state  positively  that 
it  was  utterly  remote  from  eagerness  for  display  or 
over-activity  of  tongue.  Lord  Byron  says,  her  con- 
versation was  as  quiet  as  herself.  Lockhart,  who  was 
fastidious  enough  in  all  conscience,  was  delighted  with 
her  ;  and  Scott  writes  (in  1827) : — '  It  is  scarcely  pos- 
sible to  say  more  of  this  very  remarkable  person 
than  that  she  not  only  completely  answered,  bi|^ 
exceeded,  the  expectations  which  I  had  formed.  I 
am  particularly  pleased  mth  the  naivete  and  good- 
lumioured  ardour  of  mind  which  she  unites  with  such 
formidable  powers  of  acute  observation.' 

Fashion,  in  its  best  sense,  is  essentially  a  discrimi- 
nating and  almost  a  democratic  principle  ;  it  unscru- 
pulously overrides  birth,  fortune,  and  even  fame,  for 
purely  personal  distinction  and  agreeabihty.  We  have 
known  many  a  lion  and  lioness  dropped  after  a  short 
trial.  We  never  knew  one  retain  the  coveted  position 
long  by  mere  literary  celebrity,  much  less  by  restless 
anxiety  for  display.  The  object  of  the  most  refined 
and  cultivated  society  of  London  and  Paris,  in  their 


172  M.miA    EDGEWORTII: 

ordinary  intercourse,  is  not  to  instruct  or  be  instructed, 
to  dazzle  or  be  dazzled,  but  to  please  and  be  pleased. 
Now,  Miss  Edgewortli  was  pre-eniinently  the  fashion, 
year  after  year,  and  she  wisely  acted  on  Colton's  maxim 
in  '  Lacon ' :  'In  all  societies  it  is  advisable  to  asso- 
ciate, if  possible,  with  the  highest.  In  the  grand 
theatre  of  human  hfe,  a  box-ticket  takes  you  through 
the  house,'  During  her  visit  to  London  in  1822,  we 
find  her  spending  a  morning  in  Newgate  with  JVIi^s. 
Fry,  receiving  Sir  Humphry  Davy  in  the  afternoon, 
taken  by  Whitbread  to  the  ladies'  gallery  in  the 
House  of  Commons  in  the  evening,  and  finishing  with 
Almack's  in  its  heyday  : 

'Fanny  and  Harriet  have  been  with  me  at  that  grand 
exclusive  paradise  of  fashion,  Almack's.  Observe  that  the 
present  Duchess  of  Rutland,^  who  had  been  a  few  months 
away  from  town  and  had  offended  the  lady  patronesses  by  not 
visiting  them,  could  not  at  her  utmost  need  get  a  ticket  from 
any  one  of  them  and  was  kept  out,  to  her  amazing  mortifi- 
cation. This  may  give  you  some  idea  of  the  importance 
attached  to  admission  to  Almack's.  Kind  ]\Irs.  Hope  got 
tickets  for  us  from  Lady  Grwydir  and  Lady  Cowper  (Lady 
Palmerston) ;  the  patronesses  can  only  give  tickets  to  those 
whom  they  personally  know ;  on  that  plea  they  avoided  the 
Ducliess  of  Rutland's  application,  she  had  not  visited  them, 
— "  they  really  did  not  know  her  grace,"  and  Lady  Cowper 
swallowed  a  camel  for  me,  because  she  did  not  really  know 
me  :  I  had  met  her  but  had  never  been  introduced  to  her  till 
I  saw  her  at  Almack's. 

'  P'anny  and  Harriet  were  beautifully  dressed  :  tlieir  heads 
by  Lady  Lansdowne's  hair-dresser,  Trichot ;  Mrs.  Hope  lent 
Harriet  a  wreath  of  her  own  French  roses.  Fanny  was  said 
by  many  to  be,  if  not  the  prettiest,  the  most  elegant-looking 
young  woman  in  the  room,  and  certainly  "  elegance,  birth, 
and  fortime  were  there  assembled,"  as  the  newspapers  would 
truly  say.' 

'  It  was  the  Duchess  of  Northumberlamh  who,  not  being  on  the 
visiting  list  of  a  patroness,  and  not  caring  to  supply  the  omission,  was 
refused  a  ticket.     This  was  Idld  th.^  writer  hv  Luily  i'alnierston. 


HER    LIFK    AXD    WRITINGS.  ]73 

Lord  Londonderry  Imrries  up  to  talk  of  '  Castle 
Eackrent '  and  L'eland,  and  introduces  them  to  Lady 
Londonderry,  who  invites  them  to  one  of  her  grandest 
parties.  And  then  they  become  '  verj^  intimate  '  with 
Wollaston  and  Kater,  Mr.  Warburton,  and  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Somerville.  'Tliey  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marcet 
form  the  most  agreeable  as  well  as  scientific  society 
in  London.'  And  then  they  dine  with  Lydia  White, 
and  become  acquainted  wdth  Mrs.  Siddons,  who  relates 
an  incident  of  her  career  which  it  was  worth  going  a 
long  way  to  hear  from  her  own  li[)s  : 

'  She  gave  us  the  history  of  her  first  acting  of  Lady  Mac- 
heth,  and  of  her  resolving,  in  the  sleep  scene,  to  lay  down 
the  candlestick,  contrary  to  the  precedent  of  JNIrs.  Pritchard 
and  all  the  traditions,  before  she  began  to  wash  her  hands 
and  say,  "  Out  vile  spot  I "  Sheridan  knocked  violently  at 
her  door  during  the  five  minutes  she  had  desired  to  have 
entirely  to  herself,  to  compose  her  spirits  before  the  play 
began.  He  burst  in,  and  prophesied  that  she  would  ruin 
herself  for  ever  if  she  persevered  in  this  resolution  to  lay 
down  the  candlestick  !  She  persisted,  however,  in  her  deter- 
mination, succeeded,  was  applauded,  and  Sheridan  begged 
her  pardon.  She  described  well  the  awe  she  felt,  and  the 
power  of  the  excitement  given  to  her  by  the  sight  of  Burke, 
Fox,  Sheridan,  and  Sir  Joshua  Keynolds  in  the  pit.'  ^ 

To  excuse  her  constant  yearnino;  for  the  sta2;e  after 
her  formal  retirement,  she  was  wont  to  say  that  nothing 
in  life  could  equal  the  excitement  caused  by  that  sea  of 
upturned  fixces  in  the  pit.  This  story  leads  naturally 
to  one  told  by  Sir  Humphry  Davy : 

'Sir  Humphry  repeated  to  us  a  remarkable  criticism  of 
Buonaparte's  on  Talma's  acting:  "You  don't  play  Nero 
well ;  you  gesticulate  too  much  ;  you  speak  with  too  much 
vehemence.  A  despot  does  not  need  all  that ;  he  need  only 
pronounce.  ^11  salt  qu'il  se  suffiV'  "  And,"  added  Talma, 
who  told  this  to  Sir  Humphry,  "  Buonaparte,  as  he  said  tliia, 
folded  his  arms  in  liis  well-known  manner,  and  stood  as  if 
his  attitude  expressed  the  sentiment.' 


174  MARIA    EDGEWORTII  : 

Before  hastening  (and  we  ninst  hasten)  to  the  con- 
chision,  we  may  mention,  in  passing,  that  the  third 
volume  of  the  Memoir  contains  a  long  correspondence 
with  Captain  Basil  Hall,  to  whom  she  acted  as  hterary 
adviser,  and  an  account  of  an  expedition  to  Connemara 
with  Sir  Culling  and  Lady  Smith,  which  rivals  the  best 
Irish  sketches  in  her  books.  She  complained  bitterly 
of  the  loss  of  her  own  literary  monitor  and  coadjutor, 
and  shrank  fi'oni  completing  and  publishing  much 
which,  under  his  approving  eye,  she  would  have  given 
to  the  world.  We  have  heard  on  good  authority  that 
she  left  chests  full  of  stories  in  manuscript  which  the 
family  have  refrained  from  printing.  Her  literary 
labours  do  not  appear  to  have  been  very  profitable. 
Lockhart,  who  acted  for  her  in  some  of  her  later 
arrangements  with  publishers,  states  that  she  never 
reahsed  for  the  best  of  her  Irish  tales  a  third  of  the 
sum  (700/.)  given  for  Waverley.  Yet  Waverley  on  its 
first  appearance  was  called  a  '  Scotch  Castle  Eackrent.'  ^ 

'  Harry  and  Lucy '  was  begun  by  her  father  and  his 
second  wife  Honora  in  1787,  to  illustrate  liis  notions 
of  practical  education.  Day  offered  to  assist,  and  with 
this  view  wrote  '  Sandford  and  Merton,'  which  was 
first  designed  for  a  short  story  to  be  inserted  in  '  Harry 
and  Lucy.'  Edgeworth,  therefore,  had  some  reason  for 
boasting  that  the  public  owed  '  Sandford  and  Merton ' 
to  him.  Tliis  is  not  the  first  time  that  a  work  of  lasting 
reputation  luis  l)een  produced  in  flie  same  maimer. 
'  Eothen'  was  begun  to  assist  the  author  of '  The  Crescent 
and  tlie  Cross,'  and  was  at  one  time  intended  to  a])pear 
as  a  kind  of  supplement  to  that  work. 

There  is  a  letter  fi'om  Scott  to  Joanna  Baillie,  in 
which  he  writes : 

'I  have  not  the  pen  of  our  friend.  Miss  Edfyewortli,  who 
writes  all  the  while  sl)e  laughs,  talks,  eats,  and  drinks,  and  I 

'  F-il'r  of  Scott,  vol.  iii.  p.  li'l.  'J'he  (Quarterly  Review,  vol.  ii. 
p.  .'i.vO. 


HER    LIFE    AND    WRITIXGS.  175 

believe,  though  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  so  far  in  the  secret,  all 
the  time  she  sleeps,  too.  She  has  good  luck  in  having  a  pen 
which  walks  at  once  so  unvveariedly  and  so  well.  I  do  not, 
however,  quite  like  her  last  book  on  Education  ("  Harry  and 
Lucy"),  considered  as  a  general  work.  She  should  have 
limited  the  title  to  "  Education  in  Natural  Philosophy,"  or 
some  such  term,  for  there  is  no  great  use  in  teaching  children 
in  general  to  roof  houses  or  build  bridges,  which,  after  all,  a 
carpenter  or  a  mason  does  a  great  deal  better  at  2s.  ()d. 
a-day.  .  .  .  Your  ordinary  Harry  should  be  kept  to  liis 
grammar,  and  your  Lucy,  of  most  common  occurrence,  would 
be  best  employed  on  her  sampler,  instead  of  wasting  wood 
and  cutting  their  fingers,  which  I  am  convinced  they  did, 
though  their  historian  says  nothing  of  it.' 

The  fault  of  all  lier  and  lier  father's  children's  books 
is  that  they  exact  too  much  from  both  pupil  and 
teacher,  and  greatly  overestimate  the  probable  or 
even  possible  results  of  their  system.  They  have  the 
fault  of  Lord  Chesterfield's  Letters.  They  place  no 
bounds  to  what  education  can  effect.  This  is  more 
especially  the  defect  of  '  Frank  ' — a  work,  in  other 
respects,  of  signal  excellence,  which  well  deserves  to 
retain  its  rank  as  the  first  of  English  boys'  books. 

Scott's  visitors  were  wont  to  express  the  same  wonder 
at  the  unseen  and  unaccountable  performances  of  his 
])en  which  he  expresses  of  the  umvearied  walk  of  hers. 
The  difference  between  them  in  this  respect  was  that 
he  got  up  early  and  wrote  for  two  or  three  hour's 
before  breakfast,  after  which  he  felt  at  full  liberty  to 
amuse  himself  with  his  guests.  She  generally  sat 
down  to  her  writing-desk "  (a  small  and  plain  one 
made  by  her  father)  in  the  common  sitting-room,  soon 
after  breakfast  and  A\Tote  till  liuiclieon,  her  chief  meal ; 
then  did  some  needlework,  took  a  short  drive,  and 
"svi'ote  for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon.  She  probably 
varied  her  habits  during  Scott's  visit  to  Edgeworth- 
Town. 

On  May  7th,  LS40,  being  then  in  Jut  cigbtythird 


176  ^fAPxIA    EDGEAVORTH  : 

year,  she  writes  to  Mi's.  Eicliard  Biiller  :  '  I  am  heartily, 
obhged  and  dehghted  by  yoiu'  being  such  a  goose,  and 
Eichard  such  a  gander,  as  to  be  frightened  out  of 
your  wits  at  my  going  up  the  hiddcr  to  take  off  the 
top  of  the  clock.'  She  actually  liad  mounted  the 
ladder,  as  if  emulous  of  the  fate  of  that  old  Countess  of 
Desmond,  who  broke  her  neck  by  a  fall  from  a  cherry- 
tree.  On  the  22nd  she  was  taken  suddenly  ill  with 
pain  in  the  region  of  her  heart,  and  expired  Avithin  a 
few  hours  in  the  arms  of  her  step-mother,  the  author 
of  the  Memoir. 

The  general  character  of  Miss  Edgeworth's  pro- 
ductions w^as  so  exhaustively  discussed  in  her  lifetime, 
and  the  traditional  estimate  of  them  is  so  fixed  and 
unanimous,  that  little  remains  for  us  but  to  take  a  re- 
trospective glance  at  their  prominent  features — to  sum 
up  her  many  merits,  and  few  demerits,  as  one  of  the 
most  fertile,  popular,  and  influential  English  novelists 
of  her  age.  All  are  agreed  in  ranking  amongst  her 
qualities — the  finest  powers  of  observation :  the  most 
penetrating  good  sense  :  a  high  moral  tone,  consistently 
maintained ;  inexhaustible  fertility  of  invention :  firm- 
ness and  delicacy  of  touch :  undeviating  rectitude  of 
purpose :  varied  and  accurate  knowledge  :  a  clear 
flexible  style :  exquisite  humour,  and  extraordinary 
mastery  of  pathos.  What  she  wants,  what  she  could 
not  lie]})  wanting  with  her  matter-of-fact  understanding 
and  practical  turn  (.)f  mind,  are  poetry,  romance, 
passion,  sentiment.  In  her  judgment,  the  better  part 
of  life  and  conduct  is  discretion.  She  has  not  only  no 
toleration  for  self-indulgence  or  criminal  weakness : 
she  has  no  sympathy  with  lofty,  defiant,  uncalculating 
heroism  or  greatness :  she  never  snatches  a  grace 
beyond  the  reach  of  prudence  :  she  never  arrests  us 
by  scenes  of  melodramatic  intensity,  or  hurries  ua 
along  breathless  by  a  rapid  train  of  exciting  incidents 
to  an  artisiically  ])re]vired   (•atastn)])lie.     Neither  does 


HER    LIFE    AND    WTIITINGS.  177 

she  shine  in  historic  painting;  and  she  would  have 
failed  in  '  high  art '  had  she  aspired  to  it.  Her  gaze 
was  too  constantly  fixed  on  the  surface  to  admit  of 
much  depth  or  breadth  of  thought;  and  she  was 
deficient  in  the  art  of  combining  morfe  than  a  limited 
number  of  scenes  and  characters  into  a  plot. 

The  late  Earl  of  Dudley,  a  fervent  admirer,  cliristened 
her  the  Anti-sentimental  Novelist ;  and  Madame  de 
Stael  was  reported  to  have  said,  que  Mws  Edyeworth 
etait  digne  de  I'enthousiasme,  mais  quelle  s'est  perdue 
dans  la  triste  utilitSJ  When  this  wixs  repeated  during 
the  visit  at  Coppet  in  1820,  the  Duchesse  de  Broghe 
declared,  '  Ma  mere  7ia  jamais  dit  cela ;  elle  en  etait 
incapable.'  For  all  that,  we  suspect  she  did  say  it. 
The  internal  evidence  is  strong,  and  the  remark  is 
partly  founded  in  truth.  Miss  Edge  worth  is  worthy 
of  the  highest  admiration  of  the  soberer  kind:  she 
does  not  inspire  enthusiasm  ;  and  she  would  have  been 
more  usefiil,  as  well  as  a  thousandfold  more  attractive, 
had  she  thought  and  written  less  about  utility. 

Goethe  was  wont  to  maintain  that  the  writer  of  a 
work  of  fiction  should  take  no  thought  of  the  moral : 
that  he  should  keep  true  to  nature  and  leave  the  moral 
to  take  care  of  itself.  This  may  be  accepted  as  a  sound 
canon  of  criticism,  subject  to  a  limitation  obviously 
understood.  The  poet,  dramatist,  or  novelist  may 
safely  give  the  rein  to  invention  under  the  conscious 
control  of  good  feeling  and  good  sense.  It  is  not  his 
or  her  business  to  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  man ; 
much  less  to  warp  events  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
vindicate  them.  In  the  case  of  a  story-book  for 
children,  there  is  no  great  harm  in  playing  Pro^•idence 
in  this  fashion ;  for  the  parent  or  master  can  so  manage 
the  distribution  of  rewards  and  punishments  as  that 
good  or  bad  behaviour  shall  be  speedily  followed  by 
the  fitting  results.  Only,  when  goodness  is  uniformly 
productive  of  extra  holidays,  pocket-money,  and  play- 

VOL.    1.  N 


178  MAKIA    EDGEWORTIl  : 

things,  this  is  much  the  same  as  bribing  or  coaxing 
children  to  be  good.  But  in  stories  for  grown-up 
people,  corresponding  resuhs  can  rarely  be  brought 
about  without  shocking  probability,  or  jarring  against 
the  reliij-ious  foilh  which  looks  to  the  next  world  to 
rech-ess  the  injustice  and  inequality  of  this.  The  folly 
of  trjnng  to  fathom  the  designs  of  the  Infinite  is  well 
exposed  in  the  Arabian  fable  which  supphed  the  story 
of  Parnell's  Hermit  and  is  employed  (in  '  Zadig ')  with 
his  wonted  felicity  by  Voltaire.  The  third  Epistle  of 
the  '  Essay  on  Man '  is  a  poetical  paraphrase  of  the 
same  argument. 

In  one  of  the  Popidar  Tales,  entitled  '  To-morrow,' 
the  hero  is  within  an  ace  of  ruin  by  arriving  too  late  to 
sail  with  the  Chinese  Embassy  to  which  he  is  attached. 
In  travelling,  the  late  Lord  Alvanley  was  almost  always 
behind  his  time,  and,  to  a  laughing  remonstrance  from 
a  fellow  traveller  (the  writer),  replied,  '  Why,  the  fact 
is,  these  dilatory  habits  of  mine  saved  my  life.  I  was 
about  to  embark  at  Trieste  for  Constantinople  :  my 
carriage  and  servants  were  on  board :  I  arrived  too  late  ; 
the  ship  sailed  without  me  and  was  never  heard  of 
again.     I  am  now  unpunctual  upon  principle.' 

The  same  hero  (in  '  To-morrow ')  fails  in  a  literary 
career,  for  which  he  is  well  fitted  by  knowledge  and 
capacity,  because  he  is  always  procrastinating  either 
the  composition  or  the  publication  of  his  books.  But 
Dr.  Johnson  seldom  began  the  required  paper  for  the 
Eambler  till  there  was  just  time  enough  to  save  the  post 
and  not  time  enough  to  revise  what  he  liad  written. 
Sheridan  boasted  that  he  never  did  to-day  what,  by  any 
device,  he  could  put  off  till  to-morrow ;  and  we  could 
name  more  than  one  successful  author,  now  living,  who 
has  sorely  tried  the  patience  of  an  expectant  public  by 
his  dilatoriness. 

Moore  one  day  asked  Eogers  what  he  did  when 
people,  who  wanted  his  autograph,  requested  him  to 


HER    LIFE    AXD    WRITINGS.  179 

sign  a  sentence  with  his  name.  '  Oh,  I  give  tliem  ''  Ill- 
gotten  wealth  never  prospers,"  or,  "  Evil  communica- 
tions corrupt  good  manners "  or,  "  Virtue  is  its  own 
reward." '  Luttrell  broke  in  :  '  Then  the  more  shame 
for  you  to  circulate  such  delusions.  Do  not  the  ill- 
gotten  wealth  of  *  *  *  and  *  *  *  prosper  ?  Haven't 
Tom  Duncombe  and  De  Eos,  whose  communications 
are  all  evil,  the  best  manners  of  any  men  of  our  ac- 
quaintance ?  Look  at  our  honest,  excellent  friend,  *  *  * 
to  whom  you,  Eogers,  lent  ten  pounds  yesterday.  Is 
virtue  its  own  reward  in  his  case  ?  Or,  when  Pitt 
spouted  Horace  and  talked  of  involving  himself  in  his 
virtue,  was  he  the  less  eager  to  be  First  Lord  of  the 
Treasury  again  ? ' 

Now,  Miss  Edgeworth  would  not '  have  hesitated  a 
moment  to  take  either  one  of  these  maxims  as  her  start- 
ing-point ;  and  her  father  would  have  written  a  preface 
to  announce  that  the  moral  had  been  conclusively  and 
satisfactorily  worked  out.  Their  mode  of  working  out 
the  moral  of '  Virtue  is  its  own  reward '  would  be  to 
picture  Virtue  richly  attired,  crowned  with  laurel,  and 
bearing  a  cornucopia  in  her  hand. 

Do  we  not  all  know  hundreds  who  have  got  on  by 
patronage  ?  or  who  have  got  their  first  step  through  9 
patron,  and  with  occasional  help  of  the  same  kind  have 
risen  steadily  and  creditably  to  the  top  of  the  tree? 
The  fact  is  notorious,  but  unless  it  can  be  ignored  or 
kept  in  the  background,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  de- 
monstrate by  a  probable  succession  of  events  that  self- 
reliance  is  the  only  sure  or  honourable  stepping-stone 
to  success.  The  fictitious  narrative  will  be  impaired  by 
the  daily  observation  of  the  realit}^  and  im[)aired  in 
exact  proportion  to  the  completeness  with  which  it  is 
made  to  correspond  with  the  premeditated  end.  Thus, 
in  '  Patronage,'  the  most  indulgent  or  indifferent  reader 
will  be  startled  by  the  sudden  and  simultaneous  discom- 
fiture or  disgrace  of  the  entire  family  who  have  obtained 


180  MARIA    EDGEWORTH  : 

an  excellent  start  by  interest.  The  Dean,  the  best  of 
the  lot,  is  let  off  with  the  hghtest  sentence.  He  is  mar- 
ried for  money  to  a  woman  whom  he  had  described  the 
day  before  as  '  an  old,  ugly,  cross,  avaricious  devil.' 
This  is  his  destiny.  The  colonel,  on  foreign  service, 
is  out  shooting  when  an  important  order  arrives,  sent 
home  under  arrest,  and  cashiered.  The  diplomatist  is 
detected  in  a  piece  of  treachery  to  his  official  patron, 
and  dismissed.  The  beauty,  '  Georgy,'  after  missing 
marriage  after  marriage,  is  sent  to  try  her  fortune  with 
faded  charms  to  India.  A  conspiracy  for  raising  money 
by  the  sale  of  places  through  the  instrumentality  of 
forged  letters  is  brought  home  to  the  manoeuvring 
mother ;  and  the  father  is  left,  another  Marius  amongst 
ruins,  lamenting  over  the  failure  of  his  system  and  his 
schemes. 

Scott  clears  the  ground  for  the  desired  conclusion  of 
'  Eob  Eoy  '  in  the  same  summary  style.  Of  Sir  Hilde- 
brand's  four  sons,  the  quarrelsome  one  is  killed  in  a 
duel ;  the  sot  dies  of  a  fever  caused  by  a  drinking 
bout ;  the  horse-jockey  breaks  his  neck  in  an  attempt 
to  show  off  a  foundered  blood-mare ;  and  the  fool  is 
killed  at  Preston  fighting  bravely  for  a  cause  he  could 
never  be  made  to  understand.  But  Scott,  far  from 
writing  towards  a  preappointed  moral,  commonly  began 
without  a  plan.  Miss  Edgeworth  had  entered  into  a 
voluntary  engagement  to  connect  the  downfall  of  the 
Falconers  with  their  method  of  rising,  and  no  logical  or 
necessary  connection  is  made  out. 

Miss  Edgeworth  is  not  satisfied  with  ordering  events  : 
she  also  frames  characters  to  match.  'Murad  the  Un- 
lucky '  is  an  example.  No  man  of  observation  and  ex- 
perience will  deny  that  there  are  such  things  as  good 
luck  and  ill  luck  ;  and  no  man  of  sense  will  dissent 
from  Jeremy  Taylor's  axiom  that  '  life  is  like  playing  at 
tables  :  the  luck  is  not  in  our  power,  but  the  playing 
the  game  is.'     Wlietlier  success  in  the  world  depends 


HER    LIFE    AND    WRITINGS.  181 

most   on  prudence   or   fortune,  the   point  in  dispute 
between  the  Sultan  and  the  Vizier  of  tlie  tale  is  one 
requiring  the  utmost  delicacy  of  handling.     But  Murad 
is  simply  a  foolish,  weak,  careless,  idle,  drunken  fellow, 
who  goes  out  of  his  way  to  get  into  trouble  ;  whilst 
his  brother,  Saladin  the  Lucky,  is  industry,  sobriety, 
sagacity,  firmness  and  foresight  personified.    The  terms 
'  lucky '   and  '  unlucky  '  have  no  application  to  such 
men.     There  is  no  good  luck  in  saving  a  city  from  in- 
cendiaries by  courage  and  presence  of  mind  :  there  is 
no  ill  luck  in  setting  fire  to  a  ship  by  leaving  a  lighted 
pipe  on  a  bale  of  cotton.^ 

In  '  Patronage,'  again,  the  rival  famihes  are  so  un- 
equal that  they  cannot  be  handicaped  for  the  race. 
The  one  has  all  the  good  qualities  :  the  other  almost  all 
the  bad.  Eeverse  the  position :  encumber  the  Percys 
(to  borrow  a  Johnsonian  phrase)  with  any  amount  of 
help ;  leave  the  Falconers  entirely  to  their  own  re- 
sources ;  and  the  sole  difference  in  the  result  under  any 
easily  conceivable  circumstances  will  be,  that  the  Percys 
will  rise  more  rapidly  and  the  Falconers  never  rise  at 
all.  Indeed,  it  might  have  been  better  for  the  plot  if 
they  never  had  risen.  The  sickening  pang  of  hope  de- 
ferred is  the  appropriate  punishment  of  placehuntii^g, 
which  ought  not  to  be  associated  with  even  temporary 
success. 

*  Toil,  envy,  want,  the  patron,  and  the  jail.' 

Boswell  states  that  Johnson  first  wrote  garret,  '  but  after 
experiencing  the  uneasiness  which  Lord  Chesterfield's 

'  The  late  Duke  of  N.  was  expatiating  on  what  he  termed  his  ill  luck 
through  life  ;  and  gave  as  an  illustration  tbat  he,  a  good  horseman,  should 
be  the  one  Lord-Lieutenant  thrown  off  his  horse  in  the  presence  of  the 
Queen  amongst  the  glittering  cort(5ge  assembled  to  accompany  her  Ma- 
jesty to  the  first  volunteer  review.  'But  why,  duke,  did  you  suffer 
yourself  to  be  dragged  on  the  ground  in  that  manner  instead  of  letting 
go  the  rein  ?  '  'Oh,  my  horse,  tliough  such  a  handsome,  spirited  creature, 
was  so  vicious  a  brute,  that  I  feared  he  would  iiy,  kicking  and  biting, 
amongst  the  suite.'  There  it  was.  Why  did  he  ride  a  vicious  brute  on 
such  an  occasion  ? 


182  JL\IIIA   EDGEWORTH  : 

fallacious  patronage  made  him  feel,  he  dismissed  the 
word  from  the  sad  group  and  replaced  it  by  patron.'' 

The  intended  effect  of  '  The  Lottery  '  is  similarly  im- 
paired. The  hero  gains  a  5,000/.  prize,  wliich  unsettles 
his  habits  and  bliiT;lits  his  hfe.  There  are  numerous 
instances  in  which  a  similar  catastrophe  has  been  pro- 
duced by  an  unexpected  inheritance.  Yet  not  one  poor 
man  in  a  hundred  would  refuse  a  fortune,  or  refrain 
from  putting  into  the  lottery,  for  fear  of  being  demora- 
lised by  wealth.  The  human  mind  is  so  constituted 
that  we  all  tliink  we  can  separate  the  evil  from  the 
good,  and  no  experience  avails  us  but  our  own.  Theo- 
dore Hook  regularly  took  a  ticket  in  the  Austrian  lot- 
tery in  the  hope  of  gaining  the  castle  on  the  Danube. 
This  was  his  mirage  in  the  desert,  his  chateau  en  Es- 
pagne,  for  years ;  and  a  good  story  might  be  made  out 
of  the  shifts  to  which  he  was  frequently  put  to  raise  the 
money,  and  his  feverish  agitation  when  the  time  for 
drawing  was  at  hand. 

In  stories  where  Miss  Edgeworth  clogs  herself  with 
a  moral,  she  recalls  the  runner  in  the  German  legend 
who  ties  his  legs  together  to  moderate  his  pace ;  and 
when  she  keeps  pressing  considerations  of  utiHty  on  the 
reader,  she  may  be  compared  to  a  host,  who,  whilst  you 
are  enjoying  the  undulating  variety  of  his  grounds  or 
enjoying  a  fine  prospect,  requests  your  attention  to  his 
mode  of  draining  and  fencing,  or  drags  you  away 
to  inspect  the  plan  of  a  projected  almshouse  or  school- 
room. 

To  a  totally  diflerent  category  belong  novels  like  the 
'  Absentee,'  in  which  the  struggles  and  mortifications  of 
an  Lish  family  of  rank  in  the  fine  world  of  London  are 
held  up  as  a  warning  ;  or  those  which,  like  Joanna 
Baillie's  Plays  on  the  Passions,  are  composed  for  the 
development  of  character  or  the  exposure  of  any  given 
mental  malady  with  its  cure.  In  'Ennui,'  Lord  Glen- 
thorn,  the  prototype  of  VTIomme  Blase  ('Used   Up') 


HER   LIFE   AND   WRITINGS.  183 

is  a  dramatic  conception  of  a  high  order  ;  and  tlic  scenes 
through  which  he  is  led,  independently  of  their  merit 
as  representations  of  manners,  are  admirably  adapted  to 
exhibit  the  peculiar  state  of  feeling  contracted  by  sa- 
tiety. There  are  passages  in  which  the  young  English 
peer  recalls  Alfieri  in  phases  of  mind  described  in  his 
autobiography ;  but,  as  we  learn  from  the  letters,  Miss 
Edgeworth  cautiously  avoided  confounding  fact  with  fic- 
tion ;  and  it  is  only  in  the  most  ambitious  of  her  portraits 
that  she  can  be  accused  of  transgressing  sound  prin- 
ciples of  art.  Lord  Dudley,  who  reviewed  '  Patronage  ' 
in  the  Quarterly  Eeview,  objected  that  a  modern 
Premier  is  out  of  place  in  a  novel.  A  drawing  from  the 
life  is  of  course  not  permissible,  and  there  are  not  mo- 
dern Premiers  enough  to  supply  materials  for  an  artis- 
tic creation.  To  conceive  one  without  individual  traits 
would  be  as  difficult  as  Martiuus  found  it  to  form  an 
abstract  idea  of  a  Lord  Mayor  without  any  of  the  en- 
signs of  his  dignity.  Miss  Edgeworth's  Lord  Old- 
borough,  excepting  two  or  three  slight  points  of  resem- 
blance to  Lord  Chatham  and  Lord  Grenville,  is  unlike 
any  premier  in  esse  or  posse ;  and  we  agree  with  Lord 
Dudley  that,  powerfully  as  her  premier  is  drawn,  a 
great  part  of  our  interest  is  destroyed  by  constan^ 
reflecting,  not  only  that  he  did  not  exist,  but  that  he 
could  not  have  existed. 

The  same  objection  does  not  hold  good  against  her 
Chief  Justice,  for  there  have  been  a  great  many  chief 
justices.  We  once  heard  her  say  that  she  had  Chief 
Justice  Bushe  uppermost  in  her  thoughts  during  the  de- 
lineation, which  has  been  questioned  on  the  ground 
tliat  he  did  not  become  Chief  Justice  till  after  the  pub- 
lication of  the  book.  The  difficulty  is  cleared  away  by 
a  letter  dated  January  14,  1822,  in  which  she  says:  'I 
am  rejoiced  at  Mr.  Bushe's  promotion.  Mrs.  Bushe  sent 
to  me,  through  Anne  Nangle,  a  most   kind  message, 


184  M.\KIA   EDGEWOKTII  : 

alluding  to  our  "  Patronage  "  Chief  Justice  by  Second 
Sight: 

Lord  Dudley  also  hints  a  doubt  whether  her  English 
sketches  do  not  suggest  that  she   had  taken  only  an 
occasional  and  cursory  view  of  English  society.     This  is 
not  our  impression,  although  she  treads  more  firmly 
and  freely  on  Irish  ground,  and  the  stories  of  which  the 
scenes  are  laid  in  Ireland  are  most  redolent  of  humour 
and  pathos,  more  deeply  and  broadly  marked  with  the 
stamp  of  her  peculiar  genius,  than  the  rest.    Lord  Jeffrey 
has  reprinted  in  the  corrected  edition  of  his  works  the 
opinion  which  he  delivered  forty-five  years  since,  that, 
if  she  had  never  written  anything  but  the  epistle  of 
Larry  Brady,  the  post-boy,  to  his  brother,  which  forms 
the  conclusion  of  the  '  Absentee,'  '  this  one  letter  must 
have  placed  her  at  the  very  top  of  our  scale,  as  an  ob- 
server of  character,  and  a  mistress  in  the  simple  pathetic' 
Without  disputing  this  opinion,  we  would  undertake  to 
produce  half-a-dozen  passages  of  equal  merit  from  the 
same  novel,  from  '  Ormond,'  or  from  '  Ennui.'     Lord 
Jeffrey  had  ah'cady  said  that  she  need  not  be  afraid  of 
being  excelled  by  any  of  her  contemporaries  in  '  that 
faithful    but   flattering  representation   of  the    spoken 
language  of  persons  of  wit  and  politeness — in  that  light 
and  graceful  tone  of  raillery  and  argument — and  in  that 
gift  of  sportive  but  cutting  medisanct\  which  is  sure  of 
success  in  those  circles  where  success  is  supposed  to  be 
most  difficult  and  desirable.'     He  appeals  to  the  con- 
versation of  Lady  Delacour,  Lady  Dash  fort,  and  Lady 
Geraldine.     If  required  to  specify  a  complete  sketch  of 
an  English  gentlewoman,  he  might  confidently  have 
pointed  to  Lady  Jane  Granville,  Mrs    Ilungerford,  or 
Mrs.  Mortimer. 

Speaking  of  Lord  Wellesley  in  1825,  Moore  notes 
down  in  his  Diary  : — '  Gave  me  some  very  pretty 
verses  of  his  own  to  jMiss  Edgeworth.     Showed  me  some 


HER    LIFE    AND    WRITINGS.  185 

verses  of  hers  to  him,  strongly  laudatory  but  very  bad.' 
Moore  would  have  thought  any  verses  bad  that  had  not 
his  own  exquisite  finish  ;  but  verse-making  was  not  her 
vocation,  and  poetry  was  not  her  forte. 

Sheridan,  struck  by  the  spirit  and  point  of  the  dia- 
logue in  '  Behnda,'  recommended  her  to  try  her  hand 
at  dramatic  composition ;  and  two  '  comic  dramas,' 
three  acts  each — '  Love  and  Law,'  and  '  The  Eose, 
Thistle,  and  Shamrock ' — are  printed  in  the  collected 
edition  of  her  works.  The  unity  of  action  wanting  in 
her  novels  is  equally  neglected  in  these  dramas :  the 
dramatis  personce  are  mostly  Lish  of  the  lower  class, 
and  much  of  the  dialogue  is  pm'e  brogue.  The  utmost 
that  can  be  said  for  these  productions  is  that,  if  com- 
pressed into  one-act  farces  ^nth  Irish  Johnson  and 
Power  to  take  parts,  they  might  have  had  a  run ;  and 
her  name  must  be  added  to  the  long  hst  of  novehsts, 
headed  by  Fielding  and  Le  Sage,  who  have  failed,  or 
fallen  lamentably  short  of  the  expected  degree  of  ex- 
cellence, in  the  kindred  walk  of  fiction.  The  dramatic 
fame  of  the  author  of  '  Tom  Jones '  rests  on  the  mock 
tragedy  of  '  Tom  Thumb  ; '  and  so  long  as  the  author  of 
'  Gil  Bias '  was  only  kno"\\m  as  a  play^vright,  no  one  saw 
any  incongruity  in  the  joke  placed  by  Piron  in  t^ 
mouth  of  Punchinello  : — '  Pom-quoi  le  fol  de  temps  en 
temps  ne  diroit-il  pas  de  bonnes  clioses,  puisque  le  sage 
(Le  Sage)  de  temps  en  temps  dit  de  si  mauvaises?' 

It  is  from  the  apex  of  the  pyramid  that  men  calcu- 
late its  height,  and  the  altitude  of  genius  must  be  taken 
where  it  has  attained  its  culminating  point.  Let  those 
who  "wish  to  appreciate  Miss  Edgeworlh,  to  derive  the 
greatest  amount  of  refining  and  elevating  enjoyment 
from  her  works,  skip  the  prefaces,  short  as  they  are — 
never  think  of  the  moral,  excellent  as  it  may  be — be 
not  over-critical  touching  the  management  of  the  story, 
but  give  themselves  up  to  the  charm  of  the  dialogue, 


186  MARIA   EDGEWORTH. 

the  scene-painting,  the  dchneation  and  development  of 
character,  the  happy  blending  of  pathos  and  humour 
^vith  the  sobriety  of  truth.  Let  them  do  this,  and  they 
will  cease  to  Avonder  at  the  proud  position  a^Yarded  to 
her  by  the  dispassionate  judgment  of  her  most  eminent 
contemporaries. 


187 


THE  RIGHT  HON.  GEOEGE  CANNING  AS  A  MAN  OF 

LETTERS. 

From  the  Edinbtjroh  Review,  July,  1858. 

Poetry  of  the  Anti-Jacobin :  comprising  the  celebrated 
Political  and  Satirical  Poems,  Parodies,  and  Jeux- 
d' esprit  of  the  Right  Hon.  George  Canyiing,  the  Earl  of 
Carlisle,  Marquis  Wellesley,  the  Right  Hon.  J.  H.  Frere, 
W.  Gifford,  Esq.,  the  Right  Hon.  W.  Pitt,  G.  Ellis,  Esq., 
and  others.  With  Explanatory  Notes,  by  Charles 
Edmonds.  Second  edition,  considerably  enlarged.  With 
Six  Etchings  by  the  famous  caricaturist,  James  Gilleay. 
London  :  1854. 

At  the  risk  of  startling  many  of  our  readers,  we  avow 
our  conviction  that  the  Right  Hon.  George  Canning 
has  never  been  fairly  judged  or  duly  appreciated  by 
his  countrymen.  In  Europe  and  America,  he  sym- 
bolises a  policy  :  in  England,  he  is  little  better  than  a 
name.  '  There  died  the  last  of  the  rhetoricians,'  was 
the  exclamation  of  a  great  northern  critic  and  man  o6 
genius.  Yet  the  brilliant  effusions,  the  '  purple  patches,' 
of  this  so-called  rhetorician  were  underlaid  and  ele- 
vated by  more  thought  and  argument  than  would 
suffice  to  set  up  a  host  of  the  '  practical  men '  who 
complacently  repeat  and  dwell  upon  the  sneer.  His 
sacrifices  in  the  cause  of  Catholic  emancipation  were 
great  and  palpable.  For  that  cause,  as  he  truly  said, 
he  had  surrendered  power  at  a  period  (1812)  when  he 
would  readily  have  bartered  ten  years  of  life  for  two 
of  office.  Side  by  side  with  Huskisson,  of  whose  views 
he  was  the  most  eloquent  exponent,  he  was  (after  Pitt) 
the  first  eminent  Tory  who  embraced  the  doctrines  of 
Free  Trade.      Yet  Wellington  and  Peel,  who   twice 


188  THE   RIGHT   HOX.    GEORGE   CANNING 

over  resisted  the  progress  of  eiiliglitened  opinion  till 
tliey  could  resist  no  longer  without  dismembering  the 
empire  or  risking  a  war  of  classes,  are  imperishably 
enshrined  in  men's  minds  and  memories  as  the  states- 
men to  whose  welcome  altliouii-li  tardy  abandonment 
of  Ions- cherished  errors  the  nation  stands  indebted  for 
religious  liberty  and  cheap  bread. 

Canning's  death,  indeed,  was  in  every  sense  of  the 
word  uniimely.  It  took  place  at  the  period  most  un- 
favourable for  his  fame ;  for  the  intermediate  ground 
he  had  long  occupied  between  the  two  great  parties, 
strikingly  analogous  to  that  of  the  amphibious  race  of 
Peelites  or  Liberal-Conservatives  in  our  own  time,  had 
inevitably  prevented  him  from  enjoying  the  sympathy 
or  cordial  support  of  either.  iSTay,  it  had  occasionally 
exposed  him  to  the  jealousy,  enmity,  or  marked  dis- 
trust of  both,  and  he  needed  a  year  or  two  of  power 
to  inaugurate  a  well-defined  policy  and  form  a  well 
cemented  party  of  his  own. 

The  extent  to  which  party  prejudice  may  be  pushed 
was  seldom  more  strongly  exemphfied  than  by  the 
bitterness  and  pertinacity  with  which  Canning  was 
assailed  by  Sydney  Smith,  a  congenial  spirit  in  many 
ways,  who,  besides  making  him  the  subject  of  the  blue- 
bottle fly  comparison,^  persisted  in  treating  him  as  a 
mere  joker  of  jokes,  and  thus,  in  the  '  Peter  Plymley 
L(3tters,'  summed  up  his  merits  and  demerits  in  1808 : 

'  I  can  only  say  I  have  listened  to  liim  loni^  and  often,  with 
the  greatest  attention ;  I  have  used  every  exertion  in  my 
power  to  take  a  fair  measure  of  him,  and  it  appears  to  me 
impossible  to  hear  him  upon  any  arduous  topic  without  per- 
ceiving that  he  is  eminently  deficient  in  tliose  solid  and 

'  '  Nature  descends  down  to  infiuite  littleness.     Mr,  Canning  has  his 

parasites  ;  and  if  you  take  a  large  buzzing  blue-bottle  i\y,  and  look  at  it 

in  a  microscope,  you  may  see  twenty  or  tliirty  little  ugly  insects  crawling 

ibuut  it,  wliich  doubllcsH  think  their  lly  to  be  the  bluest,  grandest,  mer- 

'est,  most  important  animal  in  tlie  universe,  and  are  convinced  the  world 

uld  be  at  an  fud  if  it  ceased  to  buz.' — Peter  riyvilnj,  Lett.  3.  note. 


AS    A    MAN    OF    LETTERS.  18l> 

serious  qualities,  upon  wliich,  and  upon  which  alone,  th« 
confidence  of  a  great  country  can  properly  repose.  He 
sweats,  and  labours,  and  works  for  sense,  and  Mr.  Ellis 
always  seems  to  think  it  is  coming,  but  it  does  not  come  : 
the  machine  can't  draw  up  what  is  not  to  be  found  in  the 
spring.  Providence  has  made  him  a  light-jesting  para- 
graph-writing man,  and  that  he  will  remain  to  his  dying 
day. 

'When  he  is  jocular,  he  is  strong  ;  when  he  is  serious,  he 
is  like  Samson  in  a  wig  :  any  ordinary  person  is  a  match  for 
him  ;  a  song,  an  ironical  letter,  a  burlesque  ode,  an  attack 
in  the  newspaper  upon  Nicholl's  eyes,  a  smart  speech  of 
twenty  minutes  full  of  gross  misrepresentations  and  clever 
turns,  excellent  language,  a  spirited  manner,  lucky  quota- 
tion, success  in  provoking  dull  men,  some  half  information 
picked  up  in  Pall  Mall  in  the  morning — these  are  your 
friend's  natural  weapons  ;  all  these  things  he  can  do  ;  here  I 
allow  him  to  be  truly  great ;  nay,  I  will  be  just,  and  go  still 
farther — if  he  would  confine  himself  to  these  things,  and 
consider  the  facile  and  tlie  playful  to  be  the  basis  of  his 
character,  he  would,  for  that  species  of  man,  be  universally 
allowed  to  be  a  person  of  a  very  good  understanding :  call 
him  a  legislator,  a  reasoner,  and  the  conductor  of  the  affairs 
of  a  great  nation,  and  it  seems  to  me  as  absurd  as  if  a 
butterfly  were  to  teach  bees  to  make  honey.  That  he  is  an 
extraordinary  writer  of  small  poetry,  and  a  diner  out  of  the 
highest  order,  I  do  most  readily  admit.  After  George 
Selwyn,  and  perhaps  Tickell,  there  has  been  no  such  man 
for  this  half  century.  The  Foreign  Secretary  is  a  gentle- 
man, a  respectable  as  well  as  highly  agreeable  man  in 
private  life,  but  you  may  as  well  feed  me  with  decayed  potatoes 
as  console  me  for  the  miseries  of  Ireland  by  the  resources 
of  his  sense  and  his  discretion.' 

Ill  this  passage  the  clerical  wit  was  unconsciously 
giving  point  and  currency  to  the  very  objections  often 
urged  against  himself,  which  always  were  and  Avill  be 
urged  against  any  wit  or  man  of  genius  who  has  tlie 
misfortune  to  startle  dulness  from  its  self-complacency. 
How  long  did  it  not  take,  in  his  own  case,  to  compel 
the  universal  admission  that  his  own  exquisite  humour 


190  THE   RIGHT   HON.    GEORGE    CANNING 

was  the  fiuest  product  of  sense  and  reason — the  steel 
point  of  the  feathered  shaft  that  went  swift  and  un- 
erring to  the  mark  ?  At  the  same  time,  we  must 
make  allowance  for  the  asperity  which  was  con- 
ventionally permitted  to  combatants,  with  tongue  or 
pen,  sixty  years  since.  Let  it  also  be  remembered 
that,  if  Sydney  Smitli  did  not  spare  Canning  or  his 
'  parasites,'  Canning  had  not  spared  some  of  Sydney 
Smith's  dearest  and  most  esteemed  friends ;  and,  in 
reviving  the  memory  of  their  swashing  blows  at  the 
distance  of  half  a  century,  we  feel  the  same  admiration 
for  the  wit  and  fertihty  of  illustration  displayed  on  eitlier 
side  as  in  reverting  to  Dryden's  portrait  of  Achito- 
phel  or  Pope's  sketcli  of  Sporus.  In  a  retrospective 
view  of  the  satirical  literature  which  throws  a  vivid 
light  on  political  and  social  history,  it  matters  little  to 
tlie  critic  whether  any  given  specimen  of  irony  or 
invective  was  aimed  by  a  Whig  at  a  Tory  or  by  a 
Tory  at  a  Whig. 

The  world  is  a  jealous  world  and  reluctantly  accords 
the  })alni  in  more  than  one  hue  of  superiority  or  walk 
of  excellence  to  the  same  com])etitor.  If  Canning  had 
not  shone  in  light  literature  or  '  small  poetry,'  his 
claim  to  rank  as  an  orator  of  the  first  class  would  have 
been  conceded  long  prior  to  1808.  If  his  other  titles 
to  fame  had  not  subsequently  merged  and  been  for- 
gotten in  his  career  as  a  statesman,  we  should  not  now 
be  under  the  necessity  of  asserting  his  independent  and 
distinct  right  to  rank  as  a  man  of  letters  ;  for,  coidd 
all  his  contributions  to  light  literature  be  collected,  he 
would  be  admitted  to  fall  short  of  few  political  satirists 
of  the  more  fugitive  order,  in  grace,  ])oint,  or  felicity, 
and  to  equal  the  best  of  them  in  fecundity  and  variety. 
And  this  we  say  with  especial  reference  to  Swil't ;  Sir 
Charles  llanbury  Williams  ;  the  author  of  '  Antici- 
pation '  \Tickell),  and  tlie  other  principal  contributors 
'to    the    'liolliad;'    I'eter    Pindar,    Gillbrd,    Theodore 


AS    A   iMAN    OF    LETTERS.  101 

Hook,  and  Thomas  Moore,  wlio  is  more  indisputably 
the  first  in  this  order  of  composition  than  in  any  otlier 
whicli  he  touched  and  adorned. 

Tlie  importance  not  long  since  attached  to  Latin 
prosody  and  the  artistical  combination  of  longs  and 
shorts,  was  hardly  exaggerated  in  the  witty  remark, 
that  a  false  quantity  in  a  man  was  pretty  nearly  tanta- 
mount to  a  faux  jms  in  a  woman.  The  Mai-quis  of 
Wellesley  would  appear,  from  his  private  correspond- 
ence, to  have  been  prouder  of  his  Latin  verses  than  of 
his  Indian  policy ;  and  the  late  Lord  Tenterden 
devoted  more  of  his  long  vacation  to  the  pohshing  of 
his  odes  in  the  language  and  manner  of  Horace,  than 
to  the  consolidation  of  statutes  or  preparation  of  judg- 
ments. In  their  younger  days,  which  were  also 
Canning's,  graceful  scholarship  was  a  high  social  and 
hterary  distinction  in  itself.  But,  notwithstandincr  the 
brilhant  example  set  by  Sir  George  Cornewall  Lewis 
and  Mr.  Gladstone,  the  class  within  which  the  taste  and 
the  capacity  for  these  pursuits  are  still  cultivated  has 
gradually  become  more  select  than  numerous,  and  the 
fame  of  any  modern  statesman  would  be  deemed 
equivocal  if  it  required  to  be  supported  or  enhanced 
by  a  school  exercise  or  a  prize  poem.  We  therefore 
lay  no  stress  on  Canning's  contributions  to  the  '  Musce 
Etonenses  : '  but  we  pause  at  the  '  Microcosm,'  which, 
though  the  production  of  boj^hood,  contains  many 
passages  which  would  reflect  no  discredit  on  the  most 
accomplished  mind  in  its  maturity. 

The  formal  title  of  the  collected  papers  runs  thus : 
'  The  Mcrocosm,  a  Periodical  Work,  by  Gregory 
Griffin,  of  the  College  of  Eton.  Inscribed  to  the  Eev. 
Dr.  Davdes.  In  two  volumes.'  It  consists  of  a  series 
of  papers  after  the  manner  of  the  '  Spectator,'  pub- 
lished weekly  (on  the  Monday),  from  Nov.  6,  1786, 
to  July  30,  1787,  both  inclusive.  The  concluding 
number  contnins  the  will  of  the  editor,  Mr.  Gregory 


102  THE    RIOIIT    llOX.    GEORGE    CANNIXG 

Griffin,  by  wliicli  lie  bequeaths  '  the  whole  of  the 
aforesaid  essa3's,  poems,  letters,  &c.  Sec.  to  my  much- 
beloved  friends,  J.  Smith,  G.  Canning,  E.  Smith,  and 
J.  Frere,  to  be  among  them  divided  as  shall  be  here- 
after by  me  appointed,  except  such  legacies  as  shall  be 
hereafter  by  me  assigned  to  other  my  worthy  and 
approved  friends.'  Amongst  the  special  bequests  we 
find  :  '  Item.  To  Mr.  George  Canning,  now  of  the 
College  of  Eton,  I  do  give  and  bequeath  all  my  papers, 
essays,  &c.  itc,  signed  with  B.'  The  best  of  these  are 
No.  2,  on  Swearing  ;  Nos.  11  &  12,  Critique  on  the 
Heroic  Poem  of  the  Knave  of  Hearts  ;  and  No.  30,  on 
Mr.  Newbery's  Little  Books,  including  a  parallel 
between  the  churacter  of  Tom  Thumb  and  that  of 
Ulysses.  Each  of  these  is  remarkable  for  an  easy  and 
abundant  flow  of  humour,  with  (to  borrow  one  of  Dr. 
Johnson's  expressions)  a  bottom  of  good  sense.  The 
subject  uf  Swearing  Avas  judiciously  chosen;  and  its 
importance  is  heightened  with  a  comic  seriousness 
which  would  have  provoked  an  approving  smile  fi-om 
the  Short-faced  Gentleman,  obviously  proposed  as  a 
model  by  the  youthful  essayist.     For  example — 

'  It  is  an  old  proverbial  expression  that  "  there  go  two 
words  to  a  bargain  ; "  now  I  should  not  a  little  admire  tlie 
ingenuity  of  that  calculator  who  could  define,  to  any  tole- 
j-able  degree  of  exactness,  how  many  oaths  go  to  one  in 
these  days :  for  I  am  confident  that  there  is  no  business 
carried  on,  from  the  wealthiest  bargains  of  the  Exchange  to 
tlie  sixpenny  chafferings  of  a  St.  Giles's  huckster,  in  wliich 
swearing  has  not  a  considerable  share.  And  almost  every 
tradesman,  "meek  and  much  a  liar,''  will,  if  his  veracity  be 
called  in  question,  coolly  consign  to  Satan  some  portion  of 
himself,  payable  on  demand,  in  case  his  goods  be  not  found 
answerable  to  his  description  of  their  quality. 

'Nay,  even  the  female  sex  liave,  to  their  no  small  credit, 
cauglit  the  happy  contagion  ;  and  there  is  scarce  a  mercer's 
wife  in  the  kingdom  })ut  has  her  innocent  unmeaning  im- 
precations, her  little  oat]}s  "  softened  into  nonsense,"  and, 


AS    A   MAN    OF    LETTERS.  103 

with  squeaking  treble,  mincing  blasphemy  into  odsbodikins, 
slitterkins,  and  such  like,  will  "  swear  you  like  a  sucking 
dove,  ay,  an  it  were  any  nightingale." ' 

It  was  Swift,  we  believe,  who,  happening  to  be 
present  when  a  party  of  accomplished  friends  were 
eagerly  talking  over  a  game  at  cards,  completed  and 
presented  tliem  with  an  estimate  of  the  proportion 
which  their  oaths  bore  to  the  rational  or  intelligible 
portion  of  their  discourse.  Hotspur  tells  his  wife  that 
she  swears  like  a  comfit-maker's  wife ;  and  Bob  Acre's 
theory  of  sentimental  swearing  must  have  been  freshly 
remembered  in  1787.  Yet  there  is  both  novelty  and 
ingenuity  in  Canning's  mode  of  enforcing  the  same 
argument;  and  the  recollection  of  Addison's  com- 
mentary on  '  Chevy  Chace '  rather  enhances  the 
pleasure  with  which  we  read  his  youthful  imitator's 
critical  analysis  of  what  he  designates  the  epic  poem 
bemnninE!: — 

'  The  queen  of  hearts 
She  made  some  tarts 
All  on  a  summer's  day.' 

If  self-love  did  not  blind  the  best  of  us  to  our  own 
errors  and  absurdities,  almost  every  modern  editor  or 
commentator  who  has  aspired  to  emulate  the  con- 
jectural, and  often  happy,  audacity  of  Warburtonf 
might  fancy  that  the  quiet  irony  of  the  following 
paragraph  was  levelled  at  himself: — 

'  All  on  a  summer's  day. 

*  I  cannot  leave  this  line  without  remarking,  that  one  of 
the  Scribleri,  a  descendant  of  the  famous  Martinus,  has  ex- 
pressed his  suspicions  of  the  text  being  corrupted  here,  and 
proposes,  instead  of  "  All  on,"  reading  "  Alone,"  alleging,  in 
the  favour  of  this  alteration,  the  effect  of  solitude  in  raising 
the  passions.  But  Hiccius  Doctius,  a  high  Dutch  commen- 
tator, one  nevertheless  well  versed  in  British  literature,  in 
a  note  of  his  usual  length  and  learning,  has  confuted  the 
arguments  of  Scriblerus.  In  support  of  the  present  reading, 
he  quotes  a  passage  from  a  poem  written  about  the  same 

VOL.    I.  0 


194  THE    RIGHT    IIOX.    GEORGE    C.VNXING 

period  with  our  author's,  by  the  celebrated  Johannes  Pastor 
(most  commonly  known  as  Jack  Shepherd),  entitled  "An 
Elegiac  Epistle  to  the  Turnkey  of  Newgate,"  wherein  the 
gentleman  declares,  that,  rather  indeed  in  compliance  with 
an  old  custom  than  to  gratify  any  particular  wish  of  his 

own,  he  is  going 

All  hanged  for  to  be 

Upon  that  fatal  Tjburn  tree. 

*  Now,  as  nothing  throws  greater  light  on  an  author  than 
the  concurrence  of  a  contemporary  writer,  I  am  inclined  to 
be  of  Hiccius's  opinion,  and  to  consider  the  "  All "  as  an 
elegant  expletive,  or,  as  he  more  aptly  phrases  it,  "  elegans 
expletivum." ' 

There  are  several  other  papers,  from  which,  space 
permitting,  we  should  be  glad  to  quote ;  and  altliougli 
Canning's  are  the  gems  of  the  pubhcation,  it  may  be 
cited  as  a  whole  to  show  how  rapidly  the  tone,  or 
wdiat  some  may  call  the  cant,  of  the  professional 
essayist  or  critic  may  be  caught,  and  how  effectively  it 
may  be  employed  by  the  youngest  tyro  in  the  art.  It 
is  hardly  conceivable  that  lads  of  sixteen  or  seventeen 
can  have  thought  out  for  themselves,  or  fully  appre- 
ciated, the  conclusions  they  lay  down  or  the  canons 
they  apply  ;  yet  there  is  little  in  tlieir  writings  by 
which  they  could  be  distinguished  from  their  elders 
of  the  same  average  rate  of  talent,  except  what  is  to 
their  advantage,  namely,  their  superior  freshness  and 
vivacity.  Just  so,  it  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  the 
best  of  our  comedies,  commonly  supposed  to  show  the 
nicest  insight  into  life  and  manners,  have  been  pro- 
duced by  their  respective  authors  at  an  age  when  they 
must  have  taken  most  of  their  applauded  knowledge 
of  society  upon  trust.  We  hear  much  of  the  intuitive 
powers  of  genius,  and  it  certainly  does  sometimes 
arrive  at  surprising  results  by  intellectual  processes 
wliich  seem  to  dispense  with  experience.  But  ex- 
amination and  analysis  mjiy  possibly  suggest  a  simpler 
solution,   Ijy    demonstrating    tliat   tlie   knowledge   in 


AS    A    MAN    OF    LETTERS.  195 

question  really  amounts  to  little  more  than  cleverness 
in  tracing  cliaracter  and  conduct  to  motives  and  springs 
of  action  which  do  least  credit  to  mankind.  '  What 
knowledge  of  life ! '  exclaim  pit  and  boxes,  when  Mrs. 
Candour  and  Sir  Benjamin  Backbite  are  turning  their 
intimate  acquaintance  into  ridicule,  or  when  Mirabell 
tells  Millamant  that '  a  man  may  as  soon  make  a  friend 
by  his  wit,  or  a  fortune  by  his  honesty,  as  win  a 
woman  with  plain  dealing  and  sincerity.'  Yet  a  dili- 
gent perusal  of  works  like  '  Eochefoucauld's  Maxims,' 
or  '  Grammont's  Memoirs,'  may  supply  ample  materials 
for  the  creation  of  these  line  gentlemen,  coquettes,  and 
scandal-mongers,  whose  conventional  and  heartless 
cynicism  derives  its  essential  piquancy  from  the  ex- 
pression and  the  form.  It  was  not  their  worldly  know- 
ledge, but  their  wit,  to  which  Congreve  and  Sheridan 
were  indebted  for  their  early  triumphs  : 

'  Broad  is  the  road  nor  difficult  to  find, 
Which  to  the  house  of  Satire  leads  mankind, 
Narrow  and  unfrequented  are  tlie  ways, 
Scarce  found  out  in  an  age,  which  lead  to  Praise.' 

We  can  hardly  say   of  Canning's  satire  what  was 
said  of  Sheridan's,  that — 

*  His  ^vit  in  the  combat,  as  gentle  as  bright, 
Never  carried  a  heart-stain  away  on  its  blade.' 

But  its  severity  was  redeemd  by  its  buoyancy  and 
geniahty,  whilst  the  subjects  against  which  it  was 
principally  aimed  gave  it  a  healthy  tone  and  a 
sound  foundation.  Its  happiest  effusions  will  be 
found  in  the  '  Anti- Jacobin,'  set  on  foot  to  refute  or 
ridicule  the  democratic  rulers  of  revolutionary  France 
and  their  admirers  or  apologists  in  England,  who, 
it  must  be  owned,  w^ere  occasionally  hurried  into  a 
culpable  degree  of  extravagance  and  laxity  by  their 
enthusiasm.  The  first  number  of  this  celebrated 
publication   appeared   on    November   7,    1797  ;    the 

o  2 


19G  THE    RIGHT    HON.    GEORGE   CANNING 

tliirty-sixth  and  last  on  July  9,  17 98.  The  collected 
numbers  in  prose  and  verse  form  two  volumes  octavo. 
The  poetry  was  reprinted  in  a  separate  volume  in  1799  ; 
and  this  volume  has  since  been  edited,  with  explanatory 
notes,  by  Mr.  Charles  Edmonds,  who  brought  acute- 
ness,  discrimination,  an  appreciating  spirit,  and  the  most 
exemplary  diligence  to  the  performance  of  his  task. 
He  lias  taken  extraordinary  pains  to  ascertain  the 
authorship,  whether  joint  or  several,  of  the  contribu- 
tions, yet  he  has  evidently  not  been  able  to  satisfy  him- 
self, and  he  certainly  has  not  satisfied  us,  on  this  most 
important  and  interesting  point.  The  chief  difficulty 
arises  from  the  discrepancy  between  the  oral  and  tradi- 
tional, the  internal  and  the  external,  evidence.  Opposite 
to  the  title  of  each  contribution  in  the  table  of  contents, 
Mr.  Edmonds  has  placed  the  name  or  names  of  the 
supposed  writer  or  writ.rs.  The  authorities  on  which 
he  relies  are  four : — '  Canning's  own  co])y  of  the  poetry  ; 
Lord  Burghersh's  copy ;  Wright  the  publisher's  copy ; 
information  of  W.  Upcott,  amanuensis.'  The  following 
curious  account,  printed  between  inverted  commas,  is 
subjoined  to  the  table  of  contents  : — 

*  Wright,  the  publisher  of  the  "  Anti-Jacobin,"  lived  at 
169  Piccadilly,  and  his  shop  was  the  general  morning  resort 
of  the  friends  of  the  ministry,  as  Debrett's  was  of  the  oppo- 
sitionists. About  the  time  when  ^he  "  Anti-Jacobin  "  was 
contemplated,  Owen,  who  had  been  the  publisher  of  Burke's 
pamphlets,  failed.  The  editors  of  the  "  Anti-Jacobin  "  took 
his  house,  paying  the  rent,  taxes,  &c.,  and  gave  it  up  to 
Wright,  reserving  to  themselves  the  first  floor,  to  which  a 
communication  was  opened  through  Wright's  house.  Being 
thus  enabled  to  pass  to  their  own  rooms  through  Wright's 
shop,  where  their  frequent  visits  did  not  excite  any  remarks, 
they  contrived  to  escape  particular  observation. 

'  Their  meetings  were  most  regular  on  Sundays,  but  they 
not '  unfrequently  met  on  other  days  of  the  week,  and  in 
their  rooms  were  chiefly  written  the  poetical  portions  of  the 
work.     What  was  written  was  generally  left  open  upon  the 


AS   A    MAN    OF    LETTERS.  197 

table,  and,  as  others  of  the  party  dropped  in,  hints  or  sug- 
gestions were  made  ;  sometimes  whole  passages  were  con- 
tributed by  some  of  the  parties  present,  and  afterwards 
altered  by  others,  so  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  ascer- 
tain the  names  of  the  authors.     .     .     . 

'  GiFFORD  was  the  working  editor,  and  wrote  most  of  the 
refutations  and  corrections  of  the  "  Lies,"  "  Mistakes,"  and 
*'  Misrepresentations."  The  papers  on  iinance  were  chiefly 
by  Pitt  :  the  first  column  was  frequently  for  what  he  might 
send  ;  but  his  contributions  were  uncertain,  and  generally 
very  late,  so  that  the  space  reserved  for  him  was  sometimes 
filled  up  by  other  matter.  He  only  once  met  the  editors  at 
Wright's.  Upcott,  wlio  was  at  the  time  assistant  in  Wright's 
shop,  was  employed  as  amanuensis,  to  copy  out  for  the 
printer  the  various  contributions,  that  the  authors'  hand- 
writing micrht  not  be  detected.' 

The  editor,  speaking  in  his  own  proper  person,  con- 
tinues : — 

'  For  the  above  interesting  particulars,  as  well  as  for  most 
of  the  names  of  the  authors,  the  public  are  indebted  to  the 
researches  of  E.  Hawkins,  Esq.,  of  the  British  Museum. 

*  It  is  probable,  notwithstanding  Lord  Burghersh's  asser- 
tion, that  Mr.  Hammond  did  not  write  one  line,  certainly 
not  of  verse.  With  regard  to  Mr.  Wright's  appropriation 
of  particular  passages  to  different  authors,  it  is  obvioi^ly 
mere  conjecture.  Both  Canning  and  Gifford  professed  not 
to  be  able  to  make  such  distribution  ;  but  the  former's  share 
of  "  New  Morality "  was  so  very  much  the  largest  as  to 
entitle  him  to  be  considered  its  author.' 

We  learn  from  Mr.  Edmonds  tliat  almost  all  his 
authorities  practically  resolve  themselves  into  one,  the 
late  Mr.  Upcott,  and  that  he  never  saw  either  of  the 
alleged  copies  on  which  his  informant  relied.  As 
regards  the  principal  one,  Canninf^r's  own,  after  the 
fullest  inquiries  amongst  his  surviving  relatives  and 
friends,  we  cannot  discover  a  trace  of  its  existence 
at  any  period.  Lord  liurghersli  (the  late  Earl  of 
Westmoreland)  was  under  fourteen  years  of  age  during 


198  THE    RIGHT    IIOX.    GEORGE    CANNING 

the  publication  of  the  '  Anti-Jacobin ; '  and  we  very 
much    doubt   whether   eitlier    the    pubhsher    or    the 
amanuensis  (be  he  who  he  may),  was  admitted  to  the 
complete  confidence  of  the  contributors,  or  whether 
cither  the  prose  or  poetry  was  composed  as  stated.     In 
a  letter  to  the  late  Madame  de  Girardin,  a  propos  of  her 
play,  '  L'Ecole  des  Journalistes,'  Jules  Janin  happily 
exposes  the  assumption  that  good  leading  articles  ever 
were,  or  ever  could  be,   produced   over   punch  and 
broiled  bones,  amidst  intoxication  and  revelry.  Equally 
untenable  is  the  belief  that  poetical  pieces,  like  the  best 
of  the   '  Anti-Jacobin,'  were   written  in  the  common 
rooms  of  the  confraternity,  open  to  constant  intrusion, 
and  left  upon  the  table  to  be  corrected  or  completed 
by  the  first  comer.     The  unity  of  design  discernible  in 
each,  the  glowing  harmony  of  the  thoughts  and  images, 
and  the  exquisite  finish   of  the  versification,    tell  of 
silent  and  solitary  hours  spent  in  brooding  over,  ma- 
turing, and   polishing   a   cherished    conception ;    and 
young  authors,  still  unknown  to  fame,  are  least  of  ail 
likely  to  sink  their  individuality  in  this  fashion.     We 
suspect  that  their  main  object  in  going  to  Wright's  was 
to  correct  their  proofs  and  see   one  another's  articles 
in  the  more  finished  state.     Their  meetings,  if  for  these 
purposes,  would  be  most  regular  on  Sundays,  because 
the   paper   appeared   every   Monday  -morning.      The 
extent  to  which  they  aided  one  another  may  be  col- 
lected from  a  well-authenticated  anecdote.    When  Frere 
had    completed  the   first  part  of  the  '  Loves  of  the 
Triangles,'    he    exultingly   read    over    the    following 
lines  to  Canning,  and  defied   him    to   improve   upon 
them  : — 

'  Lo  ;  where  the  chimney's  sooty  tuljo  ascends, 
The  fair  Troghais  from  the  corner  bends  ! 
Her  coal-black  eyes  upturned,  incessant  mark 
The  eddying  smoke,  quick  flame,  and  volant  spark ; 
Mark  with  quick  ken,  where  flashing  in  between, 
Her  much-loved  Smoke-Jack  glimmers  thro'  the  scone ; 


AS    A    MAN    OF    LETTERS.  199 

Mark,  how  Lis  various  parts  together  tend, 
Point  to  one  purpose, — in  one  object  end  ; 
The  spiral  grooves  in  smooth  meauders  How, 
Drags  the  long  chain,  the  polished  axles  glow, 
While  slowly  circumvolves  the  piece  of  beef  below  : ' 

Canning  took  the  pen  and  added — 

*  The  conscious  fire  with  bickering  radiance  burns, 
Eyes  the  rich  joint,  and  roasts  it  as  it  turns.' 

These  two  hnes  are  now  blended  with  the  original 
text,  and  constitute,  we  are  informed  on  the  best 
authority,  the  only  flaw  in  Frere's  title  to  the  sole 
authorship  of  the  First  Part.  The  Second  and  Third 
Parts  were  by  Canning. 

By  the  kindness  of  Lord  Hatherton,  we  have  now 
before  us  a  bound  volume  containing  all  the  numbers 
of  '  the  Anti-Jacobin '  as  they  originally  appeared  : 
eight  pages  quarto,  with  double  columns,  price  six- 
pence. On  the  fly-leaf  is  inscribed  :  '  This  copy  be- 
longed to  the  Marquess  Wellesley,  and  was  purchased 
at  the  sale  of  his  library  after  his  death,  January,  1842. 
H.'  On  the  cover  is  pasted  an  engraved  label  of  the 
arms  and  name  of  a  former  proprietor,  Charles  William 
Flint,  with  the  pencilled  addition  of  *•  Confidential 
Amanuensis.'  In  this  copy  Canning's  name  is  sub- 
scribed to  (amongst  others)  the  following  pieces,  wlii«h 
are  also  assigned  to  him  (along  with  a  lurge  share  in 
the  most  popular  of  the  rest)  by  the  most  trustworthy 
rumours  and  traditions :  '  Inscription  for  the  Door  of 
the  Cell  in  Newgate  where  Mrs.  Brownrigg,  the  Prenti- 
cide,  was  confined  previous  to  her  execution ; '  '  The 
Friend  of  Humanity  and  the  Knife-Grinder : '  the  lines 
addressed  '  To  the  Author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Editors 
of  the  Anti- Jacobin  ; ' '  The  Progress  of  Man '  (all  three 
parts) ;  and  '  New  Morality.'  ^ 

^  On  the  subject  of  the  respective  authorship  of  the  contributions  to 
i\iQ  Anti-jacohin,  see  the  'Works  of  John  Ilookhara  Frore,  in  verse  and 
prose,  with  Prefatory  ■Memoir :  Edited  by  his  Nephews,  II.  and  Sir 
Bartle  P'rere,'  and  the  Edinburgh  lieiicw  for  April,  1872,  p.  47G. 


200  THE   RIGHT    HON.    GEORGE    CANNING 

With  the  single  exception  of  '  The  Friend  of  Hu- 
manity and  the  Knife-Grinder,'  no  piece  in  the  collec- 
tion is  more  freslily  remembered  than  the  '  Inscription 
for  the  Cell  of  Mrs.  Brownrigg,'  who 

♦  Whipp'd  two  female  prentices  to  death, 
And  hid  them  in  the  coal-hole,' 

The  answer  to  '  The  Author  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Editors  of  the  Anti-Jacobin '  is  less  known,  and  it 
derives  a  fresh  interest  from  the  fact,  recently  made 
public,  that  the  Epistle  (which  appeared  in  the  '  Morn- 
ing Chronicle '  of  January  17,  1798)  was  the  composi- 
tion of  William  Lord  Melbourne.  Tlie  befjrinning^ 
shows  that  the  veil  of  incognito  had  been  already 
penetrated. 

*  Whoe'er  ye  are,  all  hail ! — whether  the  skill 
Of  youthful  Canning  guides  the  ranc'rous  quill ; 
With  powers  mechanic  fai-  ahove  his  age, 
Adapts  the  paragraph  and  fills  the  page ; 
Measures  the  column,  mends  whate'er's  amiss, 
Rejects  that  letter,  .and  accepts  of  this  ; 
Or  Hammond,  leaving  his  ofJicial  toil, 
O'er  this  great  work  consume  the  midnight  oil — 
Bills,  passports,  letters,  for  the  Muses  quit, 
And  change  dull  business  for  amusing  wit.' 

After  referring  to  '  the  poetic  sage,  who  sung  of 
Gallia  in  a  headlong  rage,'  the  epistle  proceeds  : — 

'  I  swear  by  all  the  youths  that  Malmesbtjrt  chose,' 
By  Ellis'  sapient  prominence  of  nose 
By  Morpeth's  gait,  important,  proud,  and  big — 
By  Leveson  Gower's  crop-ijnitating  tcig, 
That,  could  the  pow'rs  which  in  those  numbers  shine. 
Could  that  warm  spirit  animate  my  line. 
Your  glorious  deeds  wiiicii  humbly  I  roliearse — 
Your  deeds  should  live  immortal  as  my  verse  ; 
And,  while  they  wondor'd  whence  I  caught  my  flame, 
Y'our  sons  should  blush  to  read  their  fathers'  shame.' 

Happily  the  eminent  and  accomplished  sons  of  these 
fathers  will  smile,  rather  than  blusli,  at  this  allusion  to 

*  It  will  bo  remembered  that  these  eminent  persons  were  chosen  by 
Lord  Malmewbury  to  accompany  him  on  his  misaiun  to  Lille  and  were 
associated  with  him  iu  the  abortive  negotiations  for  peace. 


AS    A    MAN    OB'    LETTERS.  201 

their  sires,  and  smile  the  more  when  they  remember 
from  which  side  the  attack  proceeded.  It  is  clear 
from  the  answer,  that,  whilst  the  band  were  not  a 
little  ruffled,  they  had  not  the  remotest  suspicion  that 
their  assailant  was  a  youth  in  his  nineteenth  year. 
Amongst  other  prefatory  remarks  they  say  : — 

'"We  assure  the  author  of  the  epistle,  that  the  answer 
which  we  have  here  the  honour  to  address  to  him,  contains 
our  genuine  and  undisguised  sentiments  upon  the  merits  of 
the  poem. 

'  Our  conjectures  respecting  the  authors  and  abettors  of 
this  performance  may  possibly  be  as  vague  and  unfounded 
as  theirs  are  with  regard  to  the  Editors  of  the  Anti-Jacobin. 
AVe  are  sorry  that  we  cannot  satisfy  their  curiosity  upon  this 
subject — but  we  have  little  anxiety  for  the  gratification  of 
our  own. 

'  It  is  only  necessary  to  add,  what  is  most  conscientiously 
the  truth,  that  this  production,  such  as  it  is,  is  by  far  the 
best  of  all  the  attacks  that  the  combined  wits  of  the  cause 
have  been  able  to  muster  against  the  Anti-Jacobin,'' 

The  answer  opens  thus  : — 

'  Bard  of  the  borro-w''d  lyre  !  to  whom  belong 
The  shreds  and  remnants  of  each  hackney'd  song ; 
Whose  verse  thy  friends  in  vain  for  wit  explore, 
A  nd  count  but  one  good  line  in  eighty-four  !  ^ 

"Whoe'er  thou  art,  all  hail !     Thy  bitter  smile 
Gilds  our  dull  page,  and  cheers  our  humble  toil ! ' 

The  '  one  good  hne  '  was  '  by  Leveson  Gower's  crop- 
imitating  wig,'  but  the  Epistle  contains  many  equally 
good  and  some  better.  The  speculations  as  to  its 
authorship  afforded  no  slight  amusement  to  the  writer 
and  his  friends. 

The  '  Progress  of  Man  '  is  a  parody  on  '  The  Progress 
of  Civil  Society,'  a  didactic  poem,  in  six  books,  by  Mr. 
Payne  Knight,  published  in  17 9G.  It  was  strongly 
imbued  with  the  new  philosophy,  and  awarded  a 
decided  superiority  to  the  unsophisticated  ways  of  man 
in  his  savage  or  natural  state  over  the  customs  and 


202  THE   RIGHT    IIOX.    GEORGE    CANNING 

manners  (tacitly  assumed  to  be  unnatural)  of  civilisa- 
tion. Like  most  of  the  productions  mentioned  in  the 
'  Dunciad,'  it  is  now  only  redeemed  from  utter  oblivion 
by  the  poignant  ridicule  which  it  provoked.  Mr. 
Knight's  poetical  description  of  the  universahty  of  the 
sexual  passion,  which  he  described  as  '  warming  the 
wliale  on  Zembla's  frozen  shore,'  is  rather  imitated  and 
amphlied,  than  exaggerated,  in  the  hues — 

'  How  Lybian  tigers'  chawdrons  love  assails, 
And  warms,  midst  seas  of  ice,  the  melting  whales  ; — 
Cools  the  crimpt  cod,  fierce  pangs  to  perch  imparts, 
Shrinks  shrivell'd  shrimps,  but  opens  oysters'  hearts ; 
Then  say,  how  all  these  things  together  tend 
To  one  great  truth,  prime  object,  and  good  end  ?  ' 

Equally  good  are  the  lines  in  which  the  placidity  of 
the  animal  and  vegetable  races  is  contrasted  (as  it 
actually  was  by  Mr.  Payne  Knight),  with  the  restless- 
ness of  mankind  : — 

'  First — to  each  living  thing,  whate'er  its  kind, 
Some  lot,  some  part,  some  station  is  assign'd. 
The  feather'd  race  with  pinions  slum  the  air — 
Not  so  the  mackerel,  and  still  less  the  bear  ; 
This  roams  the  wood,  carniv'rous  for  his  prey  ! 
That  with  soft  roe  pursues  his  watery  way : 
This  slain  by  hunters,  yields  his  shaggy  hide  ; 
That,  caught  by  fishers,  is  on  Sundays  cried. — 
But  each  contented  with  his  humble  sphere, 
Moves  unambitious  through  the  circling  year.' 

Part  the  second  is  short,  and  contains  little  worth 
quoting,  except  the  Hues  in  which  the  gradual  growth 
of  the  carnivorous  tendency  in  the  human  species  is 
traced  and  accounted  for.  The  sava2;e  sees  a  ti^er 
devouring  a  leveret  or  a  pig,  and  is  forthwith  smitten 
witli  the  desire  to  do  likewise.  He  first,  guided  by  in- 
stinct, constructs  a  bow  and  arrows  : 

'  Then  forth  he  fares.     Around  in  careless  play, 
Kids,  pigs,  and  lambkins  unsuspecting  stray ; 
Witli  grim  delight  ho  views  the  sportive  band, 
Intent  on  blood,  and  lifts  his  murderous  hand. 
Twangs  the  bent  bow — resounds  the  fateful  dart, 
Swift-winged,  and  trembles  in  a  porker's  heart.' 


AS    A    MAN   OP    LETTERS.  203 

The  concluding  part  is  devoted  to  Marriage,  which 
Mr.  Payne  Kniglit  has  treated  in  the  manner  of  Eloisa's 
famous  epistle  to  Abelard.  After  an  invocation  to  the 
South  Sea  Islands,  and  a  glowing  sketch  of  the  liappy 
absence  of  form  with  wliich  connubial  rites  are  there 
celebrated,  the  parody  proceeds  : 

'  Learn  hence,  each  nymph,  whose  free  aspiring  mind 
Europe's  cold  laws,  and  colder  customs  bind — ■ 
Oh  !  learn,  what  Nature's  genial  laws  decree — 
What  Otaheite  is,  let  Britain  be  ! ' 

Then  comes  the  inimitable  portrait  of  Adelaide  in 
'  The  Stranger  :' 

'  With  look  sedate  and  staid  beyond  her  years, 
In  matron  weeds  a  Housekeeper  appears. 
The  jingling  keys  her  comely  girdle  deck — 
Her  'kerchief  coloured,  and  her  apron  check. 
Can  that  be  Adelaide,  that  '  soul  of  whim,' 
Heform'd  in  practice,  and  in  manner  prim  ? 
— On  household  cares  intent,  with  many  a  sigh 
She  turns  the  pancake,  and  she  moulds  the  piej 
Melts  into  sauces  rich  the  savoury  ham  ; 
From  the  crush'd  berry  strains  the  lucid  jam; 
Bids  brandied  cherries,  by  infusion  slow, 
Imbibe  new  flavour,  and  their  own  forego. 
Sole  cordial  of  her  heart,  sole  solace  of  her  woe  ! 
While  still,  responsive  to  each  mournful  moan, 
The  saucepan  simmers  in  a  softer  tone.' 

In  taking  up  Frere's  conception  of  '  The  Loves  of 
the  Triangles,'  Canning  might  have  been  encouraged 
by  the  example  of  Addison,  who  borrowed  or  wrested 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  from  Steele.  The  second  part 
of  this  poem  is  principally  remarkable  for  the  airy  grace 
and  fineness  of  touch  with  wliich  the  abstract  is  invested 
with  the  qualities  of  the  concrete  and  sentient.  The 
object  of  affection  to  the  rival  curves,  who  display  their 
feelings  in  the  lines  we  are  about  to  quote,  is  '  The 
Phoenician  Cone,'  thus  mentioned  in  a  note  : — 

'  Phoenician  Cone. — It  was  under  this  shape  that  Venus 
was  worshipped  in  Phoenicia.  Mr.  Higgins  thinks  it  was 
the  Venus  Urania^  or  Celestial  Venus ;  in  allusion  to  which, 


204  THE   RIGHT    HON.    GEORGE    CANNING 

the  Plioenician  grocers  first  introduced  the  practice  of  pre- 
serving sugar-loaves  in  blue  or  sky- coloured  paper — he  also 
believes  that  the  conical  form  of  the  original  grenadier's 
cap  was  typical  of  the  loves  of  ]Mars  and  Venus.' 

This  is  the  shape,  being,  or  entity,  whose  flivours  are 
emulously  sought  by  Parabola,  Hyperbola,  and  Ellipsis, 
like  the  three  goddesses  contending  for  the  apj)le,  and 
with  equal  freedom  from  prudery  : 

'  And  first,  the  fair  Parabola  behold, 
Her  timid  arms,  with  virgin  blusli,  unfold  ! 
Though,  on  one  focus  fixed,  her  eyes  betray 
A  heart  that  glows  with  love's  resistless  sway  ; 
Though,  climbing  oft,  she  strives  with  bolder  grace 
Hound  his  tall  neck  to  clasp  her  fond  embrace, 
Still  ere  she  reach  it,  from  his  polished  side 
Her  trembling  hands  in  devious  Tangents  glide. 

'  Not  thus  Hyperbola  :  with  subtlest  art 
The  blue-eyed  wanton  plays  her  changeful  part  j 
Quick  as  her  conjugated  axes  move 
Through  every  posture  of  luxurious  love, 
Her  sportive  limbs  with  easiest  grace  expand  ; 
Her  charms  unveiled  provoke  the  lover's  hand : 
Unveiled,  except  in  many  a  filmy  ray, 
Where  light  Asymptotes  o'er  her  bosom  play, 
Nor  touch  her  glowing  skin,  nor  intercept  the  day. 

*  Yet  why,  Ellipsis,  at  thy  fate  repine  ? 
More  lasting  bliss,  securer  joys  are  thine. 
Though  to  each  fair  his  treacherous  wish  may  stray, 
Though  each,  in  turn,  may  seize  a  transient  sway. 
'Tis  thine  with  mild  coercion  to  restrain. 
Twine  round  his  struggling  heart,  and  bind  with  endless  chain.' 

Thus,  continues  the  poem,  three  directors  woo  the 
young  republic's  virgin  charms :  tluis  three  sister 
witches  hailed  Macbeth  :  thus  three  Fates  weave  the 
woof:  thus  three  Graces  attire  Venus  :  thus  tliree 
daughters  form  tlie  happiness  or  misery  of  Leah :  and, 
lastly, 

'  So  down  thy  hill,  romantic  Ashboum,  glides 
The  Derby  dilly,  carrying  Three  Insides.' 

When  the  late  Mr.  O'Connell  applied  these  celebrated 
lines  to  the  late  Earl  of  Derby,  he  made  the  dilly  carry 
six  insides,  which   had  the  double   advsuitage  of  de- 


AS    A   MAN    OF    LETTERS.  205 

scribing  the    vehicle  more  accurately  and    of  giving 
additional  point  to  tlie  joke. 

The  '  Eolliad,'  it  will  be  remembered,  consists  of  ex- 
tracts from  a  supposed  poem,  interspersed  with  notes 
and  commentaries.  Tiiis  plan  is  imitated  in  the  third 
and  last  part  of  '  The  Loves  of  the  Triangles,'  which 
does  not  profess  to  be  more  than  the  concluding  lines 
of  a  canto,  describing  '  The  Loves  of  the  Giant  Isosceles, 
and  the  picture  of  the  Asses-Bridge  and  its  several 
illustrations.'  London  Bridge  is  one  of  these  illustra- 
tions, and  the  Bridge  of  Lodi  another. 

*  So,  towering  Alp  !  from  thy  majestic  ridge  " 
Young  Freedom  gazed  on  Lodi's  blood-stained  Bridge  j 
Saw  in  thick  throngs,  conflicting  armies  rush, 
Ranks  close  on  ranks,  and  squadrons  squadrons  crush  ; 
Burst  in  bright  radiance  through  the  battle's  storm. 
Waved  her  broad  hands,  displayed  her  awful  form  ; 
Bade  at  her  feet  regenerate  nations  bow, 
And  twined  the  wreath  round  Buonaparte's  brow.' 

*  ^  Alp,  or  Alps. — A  ridge  of  mountains  which  separate 
the  North  of  Italy  from  the  South  of  Germany.  They  are 
evidently  primeval  and  volcanic,  consisting  of  granite,  toad- 
stone,  and  basalt,  and  several  other  substances,  containing 
animal  and  vegetable  recrements,  and  affording  numberless 
undoubted  proofs  of  the  infinite  antiquity  of  the  earth,  and 
of  the  consequent  falsehood  of  the  Mosaic  chronology.' 

It  will  be  collected  from  this  note  that  the  momen- 
tous question  involved  in  the  case  of  Moses  against  Mur- 
chison,  was  raised  long  before  the  ingenious  founder  of 
the  Silurian  system  began  to  disturb  or  affright  the  more 
narrow-minded  portion  of  the  clerical  body.  We  fancy, 
moreover,  that  in  young  Freedom  gazing  from  the  ma- 
jestic ridge,  we  discern  the  outhne  of  one  of  tlie  finest 
apostrophes  in  '  Childe  Harold  : ' 

'  Lo,  where  the  Giant  on  the  mountain  stands.' 

But,  to  give  everybody  his  due,  it  should  be  added  that 
two  lines  in  the  foregoing  extract  are  suggested  by — 

'As  some  tall  cliiVtliat  lifts  its  awful  form, 
Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm.' 


206  THE  EIGHT  iiox.  oeorge  c.vnxixg 

The  same,  the  finest,  passage  of  '  The  Deserted  Vil- 
lage '  appears  to  have  haunted  Canning  from  his  youth 
upwards.  The  concluding  lines  of  his  juvenile  poem 
entitled  '  The  Slavery  of  Greece  '  are  a  weak  paraphrase 
of  it: 

'  So  some  tall  rock,  whose  bare,  broad  bosom  high 
Tow'rs  from  the  earth,  and  braves  th'  inclement  sky  ; 
On  whose  vMst  top  the  black'ning  deluge  pours, 
At  whose  wide  base  the  thund'riug  ocean  roars, 
In  conscious  pride  its  huge  gigantic  form 
Surveys  imperious  and  defies  the  storm.' 

This  is  one  of  the  strongest  instances  of  unconscious 
plagiarism — for  it  must  have  been  unconscious — that 
we  remember. 

In  the  parody,  '  the  imps  of  murder '  are  busily  em- 
ployed in  building  ships  for  the  invasion  of  England, 
whilst  to  another  troop  is  assigned  an  equally  congenial 
and  appropriate  duty  : — 

'  Ye  Svlphs  of  Leath  !  on  demon  pinions  flit 
Where  the  tall  Guillotine  is  raised  for  I'itt: 
To  the  poised  plank  tie  fast  the  monster's  back, 
Close  the  nice  slider,  ope  the  expectant  sack  ; 
Then  twitch,  with  fairy  hands,  the  frolic  pin — 
Down  falls  the  impatient  axe  with  deafening  diu  ; 
The  liberated  head  rolls  off  below, 
And  simpering  Freedom  hails  the  happy  blow  ! ' 

Lord  Jeffrey,  as  we  are  reminded  by  Mr.  Edmonds, 
terms  '  The  Loves  of  the  Triangles '  the  perfection  of 
parody.  '  All  the  peculiarities,'  he  remarks,  '  of  the 
original  poet  are  here  brought  together  and  crowded 
into  a  little  space,  where  they  can  be  compared  and 
estimated  with  ease.' 

Darwin  thus  addresses  the  gnomes  : — 

'  Gnomes,  as  you  now  dissect,  with  hammers  fine, 
The  granite  rock,  the  noduled  flint  calcine  ; 
Grind  with  strong  arm  tlie  circling  Chertz  betwixt, 
Your  pure  K — o — lins  and  Pe — tunt — ses  mixt.' 

The  authors  have  certainly  placed  in  broad  relief  the 
essential  error  of  Dr.  Darwin's  poetic  theory,  his  mania 
for  personification,  his  wearisome  and  laughter-moving 


AS    A    MAN    OF    LETTERS.  207 

trick  of  investing  with  the  quahties  of  sentient  beings 
the  entire  vegetable  creation,  as  well  as  every  abstract 
notion  and  almost  every  noun-substantive  that  crossed 
his  mind.  The  tendency  of  the  political  and  social 
doctrines  with  which  ]ie  seasoned  his  verse,  is  also 
justly  and  pointedly  exposed.  But,  considered  merely 
as  a  parody,  Canning's  part  is  open  to  the  objection 
tlmt  it  occasionally  strikes  too  high  a  key,  and  awakens 
finer  and  more  elevated  associations  than  were,  or  could 
have  been,  evoked  by  the  original.  The  cherub  crew 
who  '  their  mimic  task  pursue,'  in  '  The  Loves  of  the 
Triangles,'  bear  a  much  closer  resemblance  to  the 
sylphs  who  kept  watch  and  ward  around  Belinda's 
toilette  table,  than  to  the  gnomes  at  work  on  '  noduled 
Hint.'  They  recall  the  '  Eape  of  the  Lock,'  rather  than 
the  '  Loves  of  the  Plants  ;'  and  we  cannot  accept  as  a 
perfect  caricature  of  Dr.  Darwin  a  production  which, 
in  so  short  a  space,  anticipates  Byron,  paraphrases 
Goldsmith,  and  employs,  without  tarnishing,  the  deli- 
cate machinery  of  Pope. 

'  New  Morahty  '  is  commonly  regarded  as  the  master- 
piece of  the  '  Anti-Jacobin  ;'  and,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  lines,  the  whole  of  it  is  by  Canning.  It 
appeared  in  the  last  number,  and  he  is  said  to  have 
concentrated  all  his  energies  for  a  parting  blow.  The 
reader  who  comes  fresh  from  Dryden  or  Pope,  or  even 
Churchill,  will  be  disappointed  on  finding  far  less 
variety  of  images,  sparkling  antithesis,  or  condensed 
brilliancy  of  expression.  The  author  exhibits  abun- 
dant humour  and  eloquence,  but  comparatively  little 
wit ;  i.e.  if  there  be  any  truth  in  Sydney  Smith's  doctrine 
'  that  the  feeling  of  wit  is  occasioned  by  those  relations 
of  ideas  which  excite  surprise,  and  surprise  alone' 
We  are  commonly  prepared  for  what  is  coming,  and 
our  admiration  is  excited  rather  by  the  justness  of  the 
observations,  the  elevation  of  the  thou<'-hts,  and  the 
vigour  of  the  style,  than  by  a  startling  succession  of 


208  THE    EIGHT    HON.    GEORGE    C.Vy^^IXG 

flashes  of  fancy.  If,  as  we  believT,  the  same  might  be 
said  of  Juvenal,  and  the  best  of  his  Eughsh  imitators, 
Johnson,  we  leave  ample  scope  for  praise  ;  and  '  New 
Morality  '  contains  passages  which  have  been  preserved 
to  our  time  and  bid  fair  to  reach  posterity.  How 
often  are  the  lines  on  Candour  quoted  in  entire  igno- 
rance or  forgetfulness  of  their  author  : 

'  "  Much  may  be  said  on  both  sides."     TIark  I  hear 
A  well-known  voice  that  murmurs  in  my  ear, — 
Tlie  voice  of  Candour. — Hail !  most  solemn  sage, 
Thou  di'ivelling  virtue  of  this  moral  age, 
Candour,  which  softens  party's  headlong  rage, 
Candour, — which  spares  its  foes!  nor  e'er  descends 
"With  bigot  zeal  to  combat  for  its  friends. 
Candour, — which  loves  in  see-saw  strain  to  tell 
Of  acting  foolishhj,  but  meaning  well; 
Too  nice  to  praise  by  wholesale,  or  to  blame, 
Convinced  that  all  men's  inotives  are  the  s-ame  ; 
And  finds,  with  keen,  discriminating  sight, 
Black's  not  so  black  ;  nor  white  so  vert/  white. 

'  "  Vox,  to  be  sure,  was  vehement  and  wrong: 
But  then  Pitt's  words,  you'll  own  were  rather  strong. 
Both  must  be  blamed,  both  pardou'd;  'twas  just  so 
With  Fox  and  Pitt  full  forty  years  ago  ! 
So  Walpole,  Pulteney  ; — factions  in  all  times 
Have  had  their  follies,  ministers  their  crimes."  ' 

'  Give  me  th'  avow'd,  th'  erect,  the  manly  foe. 
Bold  I  can  meet — perhaps  may  turn  his  blow  ; 
But  of  all  plagues,  good  Ileav'n,  thy  wrath  can  send. 
Save,  save,  oh  !  save  me  from  the  Candid  Friend  !  ' 

After  reading  these  lines,  we  readily  make  up  our 
minds,  at  the  author's  bidding,  to  distrust  the  next 
person  who  attempts  to  mitigate  our  censure  or  our 
praise ;  although  we  may  be  really  giving  full  indul- 
gence to  a  prejudice,  which  a  very  small  allowance  of 
Christian  charity,  self-examination,  or  genuine  unso- 
phisticated candour,  would  correct.  The  dnngerous 
t(.'ndency  of  the  doctrine  is  immediately  afterwards 
shown  by  its  application  : — 

'  I  love  the  bold  uncompromising  mind, 
Whose  principles  are  fix'd,  whose  views  defined  : 

Who  owns,  when  Traitors  feel  th'  avenging  rod, 
Just  retribution,  aud  the  hand  of  God  ; 


AS    A    .MAX    (JF    LKTTKRS.  209 

Who  hears  tlie  groans  tlirouj/h  Olniiitz'  roofs  tliat  viiifr, 
Of  liiin  wlio  inockM,  misled,  betray'd  his  kin;,' — 
Hears  unappiill'd,  thou^'h  Faction's  zealots  preach, 
Unmoved,  unsoftened  by  Fitzpatrick's  Speech.' 

So,  to  sliow  defiance  of  canting  candour,  we  are 
required  to  liear  luimoved  the  groans  of  a  pure-minded 
and  well-intentioned,  however  mistaken,  patriot  in  a 
foreign  prison.  According  to  M.  Guizot  (in  his 
Memoirs),  Charles  X.  observed  after  his  accession  to 
the  throne,  that  the  only  two  persons  who  had  not 
changed  since  17^9  were  Lafayette  and  himself.  Early 
in  his  revolutionary  career,  the  general  was  nicknamed 
the  Grandison  Cromwell.  Brave,  honest,  consistent, 
but  vain,  weak  and  credulous,  he  was  little  better  than 
a  puppet  in  the  hands  of  the  principal  actors  of  the 
scenes  in  which  he  played  so  conspicuous  a  part.  We 
can,  therefore,  understand  the  refusal  of  sympathy  to 
such  a  man  when  he  is  punished  by  exile  for  having 
been  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  the  enemies  of 
social  order  and  rational  freedom.  But  to  exult  in  his 
imprisonment  and  separation  from  his  wife,  is  to  prove 
how  easily  party  prejudice  may  be  confounded  with 
'  innate  sense  of  right,'  and  how  necessary  it  is  for  the 
best  of  us  to  probe  our  likings  and  dislikings  to  their 
source. 

Ten  lines  on  the  British  oak  have  been  traditionally 
attributed  to  Pitt : — 

'  So  thine  own  oak,  by  some  fair  streamlet's  side 
Waves  its  broad  arms,  and  spreads  its  leafy  pride, 
Tow'rs  from  the  earth,  and  rearing  to  the  skies 
Its  conscious  strength,  the  tempest's  wrath  defies  : 
Its  ample  branches  shield  the  fowls  of  air, 
To  its  cool  shade  the  panting  herds  repair. 
The  treacherous  current  works  its  noiseless  way, 
The  fibres  loosen,  and  the  roots  decay  ; 
Prostrate  the  beauteous  ruin  lies ;  and  all 
That  shared  its  shelter,  perisji  in  its  fall.' 

It  seems  to  have  been  a  fixed  maxim  with  the  con- 
troversialists of  those  days  to  consider  all  who  were 
VOL.  I.  P 


210  TIIF.    KKillT    IIOX.    GEOEGR    CAXXIXCJ 

not  witli  tlicm  as  nu'ainst  tliom,  nti'l  t1iis  snlire  de- 
nounces witli  indiscriiiiiiiating  scverily  all  avIio,  at  home 
or  abroad,  on  tlie  political  or  literary  arena,  had  mani- 
fested the  slightest  leaning  towards  the  new  ])hilosophy, 
or  were  even  in  habits  of  friendly  interconrse  -with  its 
vot;iries.  It  is  also  rather  startling,  contrasted  ^vitll 
modern  amenities,  to  find  '  Neckar's  fair  danghter,' 
who  said  she  would  give  all  her  fiime  ibr  the  power  of 
fascinating,  introduced  as — 

'  Staol,  the  Epicene  ! 
Bright  o'or  whose  flaming  cheek  and  purple  nose 
The  bloom  of  young  desire  unceasing  glows.' 

Nor,  much  as  Talleyrand's  reputation  has  declined 
of  late  years  and  low  as  his  political  honesty  stood  at 
all  times,  would  anything  be  now  thought  to  justify 
such  a  diatribe  as  : — 

'  Where  at  the  hlood-staiu'd  board  expert  he  plies, 
The  lame  artificer  of  fraud  and  lies  : 
He  with  the  mitred  head  and  cloven  heel  ; — 
Doom'd  the  coarse  edge  of  Keavbkli/s  jests  to  feel ; 
To  stand  the  jdayful  bulfet,  and  to  hear 
Tlie  frequent  inkstand  whizzing  past  his  ear ; 
"VVhile  all  the  five  Directors  laugh  to  see 
"  Tlie  limping  priest  so  deft  at  his  new  uiinistry."' 

According  to  a  current  story,  Ecwbell,  exasperated 
by  Talleyrand's  opposition  at  council,  fiung  an  ink- 
stand at  his  head,  exclaiming :  '  V/'l  ennfjre^  tii  nas 
pas  le  sens  plus  droit  que  le  pied'  In  the  centre  of 
the  troop  who  are  introduced  singing  the  pi'aises  of 
Lepaux,  were  inconsiderately  placed  a  group  of 
writers,  who,  with  ecpial  disregard  of  their  respective 
peculiarities  and  oj)inions,  were  subsequently  lnm])ed 
together  as  the  Lake  School  :  — 

'And  ye  five  other  wandering  hards,  that  move 
In  sweet  accord  of  harmony  and  love, 
Coi.KRrDGK  nnd  Soxniuoy,  Li,0Yn,  and  Laaih  &  Co., 
'I'lUH'  nil  yiiur  myotic  harps  to  praise  Lki'ai'X  !  ' 

Tali'onrd,  in  liis  J^iib  of  Charles  Lamb,  justly  com- 
plains of  KHa's  being  accused  of  new  tlieories  in  morality 


Aft    A    MAX    OF    LETTKllS.  211 

wliicli  lio  (IctestiMl,  or  rcprcseiitod  as  ofTcring  lioiiiage  to 
■■  a  FroiK'li  c'liarhitau  of  wliose  existence  lie  liad  never 
licard.'  Ill  allusion  to  the  same  passage,  Southey 
writes  to  the  late  Mr.  Charles  Wj^nn,  Aug.  15, 
1798:— 

'  I  know  not  wliat  poor  LaniL  has  done  to  be  croaking- 
there.  Wliat  I  tliink  the  worst  part  of  the  "  Anti-JacoLin  " 
abuse  is  the  lumiaing  togetlier  men  of  sucli  opposite  princi- 
ples :  this  was  stupid.  We  shouhl  have  all  been  welconnng 
the  Director,  not  the  Theophilanthrope  The  conductors  of 
tlie  "Anti-Jacobin"  will  liave  much  to  answer  for  in  tlius 
inflaming  the  animosities  of  this  country.  They  are  labour- 
ing to  produce  the  deadly  hatred  of  Irish  faction  ;  perhaps 
to  produce  the  same  end.' 

The  drama  of  '  The  Eovcrs,'  or  '  Double  Arrange- 
ment,' was  written  to  ridicule  the  German  drama,  tlien 
hardly  known  in  this  country,  except  through  the 
medium  of  bad  translations  of  some  of  the  least  meri- 
torious of  Scliiller's,  Goethe's,  and  Kotzebue's  produc- 
tions. The  parody  is  now  principally  remembered  by 
Eogero's  song,  of  which,  Mr.  Edmonds  states,  the 
first  five  stanzas  were  by  Mr.  Canning.  '  Having  boon 
accidentally  seen,  previously  to  its  publication,  by  Mr. 
Pitt,  he  was  so  amused  with  it  that  he  took  a  pen  ancV 
composed  the  last  stanza  on  the  spot.'  To  save  our 
readers  the  trouble  of  reference,  we  quote  it  entire : — 

I. 

'  Wheno'er  with  haggard  eyes  I  view 
Tliis  dungeon  that  I'm  rotting  in, 
I  think  of  those  companions  true 
Who  studied  witli  me  at  tlie  V — 
— niversity  of  GotlJngen, — 
— niversity  of  Gottingen. 

II. 
*  Sweet  kerchief,  check'd  with  heavenly  blue, 
Which  once  my  love  aat  knotting  in  ! 
Alas  !  Matilda  (hen  waa  true  ! 
At  least  I  thouglit  so  at  the  U — 
— niversity  of  Oottingen — 
— niveraitv  of  (lot tinmen. 


212  Till-:    PiKillT    ITOX.    GEORGE    CAXXIXG 

III. 
'Barbs!  Barbs!  alas!  how  swift  yoii  ilew 
Iler  ntat  post-wajrgon  trotting  in  ! 
Ye  bore  MiitiUla  from  my  view  ; 
Forlorn  I  lan<>:uish'd  at  the  U — 
— niversity  of  Gottingen — 
— niversity  of  Gottingen. 

rv. 
'  This  faded  form  !  this  pallid  hue  ! 
This  blood  my  veins  is  clotting  in, 
My  years  are  many — they  were  few 
"When  first  I  entered  at  the  U — 
— niversity  of  Gottingen — 
— niversity  of  Gottingen. 

V. 

*  There  first  for  thee  my  passion  grew 
Sweet !  sweet  Matilda  Pottingen  ! 
Thou  wast  the  daughter  of  my  tu — 
— tor,  law  professor  at  the  U — 
— niversity  of  Gottingen — 
— niversity  of  Gottingen. 

VI. 

'  Sun,  moon,  and  thou  vain  world,  adieu, 
That  kings  and  priests  are  plotting  in  : 
Here  doom'd  to  starve  on  water  gru — 
— el,  never  shall  I  see  the  U — 
— niversity  of  Gottingen — 
— niversity  of  Gottingen.' 

Canning's  reputed  sliare  in  '  The  Eovers '  excited 
the  uni'easoning  indignation,  and  pfovoked  tlie  exag- 
gerated censure,  of  a  man  who  has  obtained  a  world- 
wide reputation  by  liis  liistorical  researches,  most 
especially  by  his  skill  in  separating  tlie  true  from 
the  fabulous,  and  in  filling  up  chasms  in  national 
tmiuils  by  a  pj-ocess  near  akin  to  that  by  which  Cuvier 
inferred  the  entire  form  and  structure  of  an  extinct 
species  from  a  bone.  The  following  passage  is  taken 
from  Niebuhr's  '  History  of  the  Period  of  the  Eevolu- 
tion,'  (pul)li'^hod  from  his  TiOcturos.  in  two  volumes,  in 
lS4o): 

'  Cauuin^-  was  at  that  time  (1807)  at  tlu-  lioatl  uf  foreign 
aHair.s  in   I'ln^^laiid.      History  will  not  form  tlie  same  judg- 


A.S    A    MAS    OF    Lin'TKKS.  21 3 

ment  of  him  as  tluit  formed  by  contemporaries.  He  had 
great  talents,  but  was  not  a  great  statesman  ;  he  was  one  of 
those  persons  wlio  distinguish  themselves  as  the  scjuires  of 
political  lieroes.  He  was  In'ghly  accomplislied  in  the  two 
classical  languages,  but  witliout  being  a  learned  scliolar. 
He  was  especially  conversant  with  Greek  writers.  He  had 
likewise  poetical  talent,  but  only  for  satire.  At  first  he  had 
joined  the  leaders  of  opposition  against  Pitt's  minititry  ; 
Lord  Grey,  who  perceived  his  ambition,  advised  him,  half 
in  joke,  to  join  the  ministers,  as  he  would  make  his  fortune. 
He  did  so,  and  was  employed  to  write  articles  for  the  news- 
papers, and  satirical  verses,  which  were  often  directed  against 
his  former  benefactors. 

'  Through  the  influence  of  the  ministers  he  came  into 
Parliament.  So  long  as  the  great  eloquence  of  former  times 
lasted,  and  the  great  men  were  alive,  his  talent  was  admired; 
but  older  persons  had  no  great  pleasure  in  his  petulant  epi- 
grammatic eloquence  and  his  jokes,  which  were  often  in  bad 
taste.  He  joined  the  Society  of  the  Anti-Jacobins,  which 
defended  everything  connected  with  existing  institutions. 
This  society  published  a  journal,  in  which  the  most  honoured 
names  of  foreign  countries  were  attacked  in  the  most  scan- 
dalous manner.  German  literature  was  at  tliat  time  little 
known  in  England,  and  it  was  associated  there  with  the 
ideas  of  Jacobinism  and  revolution.  Canning  then  published 
in  the  "  Anti-Jacobin  "  the  most  shameful  pasquinade  which 
was  ever  written  against  Germany,  under  the  title  df 
"  Matilda  Pottingen."  Gottingen  is  described  in  it  as  tlie 
siid<  of  all  infamy ;  professors  and  students  as  a  gang  of  mis- 
creants :  licentiousness,  incest,  and  atheism  as  the  character 
of  the  German  people.  Such  was  Canning's  beginning :  he 
was  at  all  events  useful  ;  a  sort  of  political  Cossack.'  (Ge- 
ncJuclite  des  Zeltalters  der  Revolution,  vol.  ii.  p.  242.) 

'  Here  ain  I,'  excluiniud  Kaleigh,  ui'Ler  vainly  tryin<4 
to  get  at  the  rights  of  a  squabble  in  the  courtyard  of 
the  Tower,  '  employed  in  writing  a  true  history  of  the 
world,  when  I  cannot  ascertain  the  truth  of  what 
liappens  under  my  own  window.'  Here  i.s  the  great 
restorer  of  Roman  histoiy — who,  by  ihe  way,  jM'ided 
himself  on  liis   knowledLie  <>f  EuLiland — luirried    into 


Iil4  THE    llUillT    HON.    (.ii:ORGE    CANNING 

the  t>traiigest  miscoiiccptiuii  of  coiitcinpomiy  events 
and  personages,  and  giving  vent  to  a  series  of  depre- 
ciatory mis-statements,  without  pausing  to  verify  the 
assumed  groundwork  of  his  patriotic  wrath.  Ilis  de- 
scription of  '  tlie  most  sliameful  pasquinade,'  and  liis 
ignorance  of  the  very  title,  prove  tliat  he  had  never 
seen  it.  If  he  had,  he  would  also  have  known  that 
the  scene  is  laid  at  Weimar,  not  at  Gottingen  ;  and 
that  the  satire  is  almost  exclusively  directed  against  a 
portion  of  the  dramatic  literature  of  his  country,  which 
all  rational  admirers  must  admit  to  be  indefensible. 
The  scene  in  '  The  Kovers,'  in  which  the  rival  heroines, 
meeting  for  the  first  time  at  an  inn,  swear  eternal 
friendship  and  embrace,  is  positively  a  feeble  reflection 
of  a  scene  in  Goethe's  '  Stella  ; '  and  no  anachronism 
can  exceed  that  in  Schiller's  '  Cabal  and  Liebe,'  when 
Lady  Milford,  after  declaring  herself  the  daughter  of 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk  who  rebelled  agahist  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, is  horrified  on  finding  that  the  jewels  sent  her  by 
the  Grand  Duke  have  been  purchased  by  the  sale  of 
7000  of  his  subjects  to  be  employed  in  the  Ameiican 
war.^ 

Amongst  the  prose  contributions  to  the  'Anti-Jaco- 
bin.,' there  is  one  in  whicli,  independently  of  direct 
evidence,  the  peculiar  humour  of  Canning  is  discern- 
ible,— the  pretended    report    of  the    meeting    of  the 

^  It  is  purprisinp  that  the  satirist's  ntteiitiou  was  not  attracted  lo 
tlie  scene  in  *  Stelhi '  in  which  one  of  the  lieroines  describes  tlie  mpid 
growth  of  her  passion  to  its  object:  'I  know  not  if  you  observed  that 
y(ni  had  enchained  my  interest  from  the  first  moinent  of  our  lirst 
meeting.  I  at  least  soon  became  aware  that  your  eyes  sought  mine. 
All,  Fernando,  then  my  uncle  brought  the  music,  you  took  your  violin, 
and,  iis  you  played,  my  eyes  rested  upon  you  free  from  care.  1  studied 
every  feature  of  your  face;  and,  during  an  unexpected  pause,  yon  fixed 
your  eyes  upon — upon  me  !  They  met  mine  !  Howl  blushed,  liow 
I  looked  away  !  You  observed  it,  Fernando  ;  for  from  that  moment  I 
felt  tliat  you  looktid  oftencr  over  your  music-book,  often  ])liiyed  out 
of  tune,  t(j  the  disturbance  of  my  uncle.  Every  false  note,  Ftrnando, 
w»'ut  to  my  heart.  It  was  the  sweetest  confusion  I  ever  felt  iu  my 
lit.'.' 


AS    A    MAX    OF    LKTTKR.S.  215 

Fritiuds  of  Freedom  ;it  the  Crown  and  Aiiclior  Tavern.' 
Tlie  plan  was  evidently  snirgested  by  Tickell's  '  Anli- 
ci[)ation,'  in  which  the  debate  on  the  Address  at  the 
opening  of  the  Session  was  repoi'tcd  beforehand 
with  such  sni'prising  foresight,  that  some  of  the 
speakers,  who  were  thns  forestalled,  declined  to  deliver 
their  meditated  orations. 

At  the  meeting  of  tlie  Friends  of  Freedom,  Erskine, 
whose  habitnal  egotism  conld  hardly  be  caricatured,  is 
made  to  perorate  as  follows  : — 

'  Mr.  Erskine  conchuled  by  recapitulating,  in  a  strain  of 
agonizing  and  impressive  eloquence,  the  several  more  promi- 
nent heads  of  bis  speecli : — He  had  been  a  soldier  and  a 
sailor,  and  had  a  son  at  Winchester  Scliool — he  bad  been 
called  by  special  retainers,  during  tbe  summer,  into  many 
ditferent  and  distant  parts  of  tbe  country — travelling  cbiefly 
in  post-cbaises — be  felt  himself  called  upon  to  declare  that 
bis  poor  fiiculties  were  at  tbe  service  of  bis  country — of  tbe 
free  and  enligbtened  part  of  it  at  least — be  stood  here  as  a 
man — be  stood  in  the  eye,  indeed  in  the  hand,  of  God — to 
wbom  (in  tbe  presence  of  tbe  company  and  waiters),  be 
solemnl}'  appealed — be  was  of  noble,  perbaps  Royal  Blood- 
be  bad  a  bouse  at  Hampstead — was  convinced  of  tbe  neces- 
sity of  a  tborougb  and  radical  Reform — bis  pampblet  bad 
gone  through  tbirty  editions,  skipping  alternately  tbe  odd^ 
and  even  numbers — be  loved  tbe  Constitution,  to  wbicli  be 
would  cling  and  grapple — and  be  was  clotbed  witb  tbe  in- 
firmities of  man's  nature— be  would  apply  to  1b<'  present 
French  rulers  (particularly  Barras  and  Rkubel)  tbe  wordd 
of  tbe  poet : — 

"  Be  to  tlieir  tiuilts  a  little  bliiul ; 
]>e  to  tlieir  virtues  very  kind, 
Let  all  their  ways  bo  uncoiifiiHHi, 
And  clap  the  jmdlock  un  their  mind  !  " 

And  for  these  reasons,  tbanking  tlie  gentlemen  wlio  bad 
done  bim  tlie  bouour  to  drink  bis  liealth,  be  sbould  ])ropose 

'  The  whole  of  this  Jeic  d'cfipn't  has  been  claimed  for  Fri'ie,  but  on 
musitislactory  evidence,  it  i;*  much  more  iu  Canning's  way  {is  a  student 
of  oratorv,  which  I'rere  wac;  not. 


210  THE    RIGHT    HO.X.    GEORGE    C.VNNIXG 

"  Meiu-in,    the   late   Minister    of  Justice,    and    Trial   by 
Jury!"' 

A  \o\vj,  speech  is  given  to  Mackiiitosli,  wlio,  under 
tlie  name  of  Macfungus,  after  a  fervid  ske'tdi  of  tlie 
Temple  of  Freedom  wliicli  lie  proposes  to  construct  on 
tlie  ruins  of  ancient  establishments,  proceeds  ^vitll  kind- 
ling animation  : — 

'  "  There  our  infants  shall  be  tauglit  to  lisp  in  tender 
accents  the  Revolutionary  Hymn — there  with  wreaths  of 
myrtle,  and  oak,  and  poplar,  and  vine,  and  olive,  and  cypress, 
and  ivy;  with  violets  and  roses,  and  daffodils  and  dandelions 
in  our  hands,  we  will  swear  respect  to  childhood,  and  man- 
hood, and  old  age,  and  virginity,  and  womanhood,  and  widow- 
hood ;   but,  above  all,  to  the  Supreme  Being.  *  * 

' "  These  prospects,  fellow-citizens,  may  possibly  be  de- 
ferred. The  Machiavelism  of  Governments  may  for  the 
time  prevail,  and  this  unnatural  and  execrable  contest  may 
yet  be  prolonged  ;  but  the  hour  is  not  far  distant ;  persecu- 
tion will  only  serve  to  accelerate  it,  and  the  blood  of  patriot- 
ism streaming  from  the  severing  axe  will  call  down  vengeance 
on  OTU"  oppressor  in  a  voice  of  thunder.  I  expect  the 
contest,  and  I  am  prepared  for  it.  I  hope  I  shall  never 
shrink,  nor  swerve,  nor  start  aside,  wherever  duty  and  incli- 
nation may  place  me.  My  services,  my  life  itself,  are  at 
your  disposal — whether  to  act  or  to  suffer,  I  am  yours — with 
Hampden  in  the  Field,  or  with  Sidney  on  the  Scaffold.  My 
example  may  be  more  useful  to  you  than  my  talents :  and 
this  head  may  perhai)S  serve  your  cause  more  effectually,  if 
placed  on  a  pole  upon  Temple  Bar,  tliau  if  it  was  occupied 
in  organising  your  committees,  in  preparing  your  revolutien- 
ary  explosions,  and  conducting  your  corresjjondence."  ' 

The  \\\{  and  fun  of  these  imitations  are  undeniable; 
;nid  their  injustice  is  equally  so.  Erskine,  ^vith  all  his 
egoli>ni,  uas  ;uid  j-eni:iiiis  the  greatest  of  English 
advocates.  lie  stennned  and  turned  tlie  tide  uhieh 
llireaLened  to  sweep  away  the  most  valued  of  our  free 
mstitutions  jn  1704  ;  and  (we  say  wit li  Lord  Bj-ougham) 
'  befoic  sucli  a  precious  service  as  this,  well  may  the 


AS    A    .MAX    OF    LKTTKUS.  '  21.7 

lustre  of  statesmen  and  orators  grow  pale.'  Mackintosh 
was  pre-eminently  distinguished  by  the  com[)rehensive- 
ness  and  moderation  of  his  views  ;  nor  could  any  man 
be  less  disposed  by  temper,  habits,  or  pursuits  towards 
revolutionary  courses.  His  Lectures  on  '  The  Law  of 
Nature  and  Nations '  were  especialh'  directed  against 
the  new  morality  in  general,  and  Godw  in's  '  Political 
Justice'  in  particidar. 

At  a  long  subsequent  })eriod  (1807),  Canning,  wlien 
attacked  in  Parliament  for  his  share  in  the  '■Ami- 
Jacobin,'  declared  that  '  he  felt  no  shame  for  its  cha- 
racter or  principles,  nor  any  other  sorrow  for  the  share 
he  had  had  in  it,  than  that  which  the  imperfection  of 
his  pieces  was  calculated  to  inspire.'  Still,  it  is  one 
of  the  inevitable  inconveniences  of  a  connection  with 
the  press,  that  the  best  known  writers  should  be  made 
answerable  for  the  errors  of  their  associates  ;  and  the 
license  of  the  '  Anti-Jacobin '  gave  serious  and  well- 
founded  offence  to  many  who  shared  its  0])inions  and 
wished  well  to  its  professed  object.  In  Wilberforce's 
'  Diary'  for  May  18,  1709,  we  hnd,  'Pitt,  Canning,  and 
Pepper  Arden  came  in  late  to  dinner.  I  attacked 
Canning  on  indecency  of  "Anti- Jacobin."  Coleridge, 
in  his  "  Biographia  Literaria,"  complains  bitterly  g[)f 
the  calumnious  accounts  given  by  the  "Anti-Jacobin" 
of  his  earh"  life,  and  asks  with  reason,  "Is  it  surprising 
that  many  good  men  remained  longer  than  perhaps 
they  otherwise  Avould  have  done,  adverse  to  a  party 
which  encouraged  and  openly  rewarded  the  authors  of 
such  atrocious  calumnies?"' 

Mr.  Edmonds  savs  that  Pitt  o-ot  friiihtened,  and  that 
the  ])ublication  was  discontinued  at  the  suggestion  of 
the  Prime-Minister.  It  is  not  imlikely  that  Canning, 
now  a  member  of  the  House  of  Conmions  and  Under- 
Secretary  of  State  for  Poreign  Affairs,  found  his  con- 
nection with  it  embarrassing,  as  his  hopes  rose  and  his 
political  jrrospects  expanded.     Indeed,  it  may  be  (|ue.->- 


218  Tin:  RiciiiT  iiox.  george  c.vxnlvg 

tionod  wliL'tlier  a  p;irIi;iiiK'ut;iry  career  can  ever  be 
united  wilh  tluit  of  the  daily  or  weekly  journalist,  with- 
out compromising  one  or  both.  At  all  events,  the 
original  '  Anti-Jacobin '  closed  with  the  number  con- 
tainiufTf  '  Xew  Morality,'  and  Cannini]^  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  monthly  review  started  under  the  same 
name. 

Durinu;  the  AdchiiLfton  administration,  his  muse  was 
more  than  ordinarily  fertile.  Besides  the  celebrated 
song  of  '  The  Pilot  that  weathered  the  Storm,'  com- 
posed for  the  first  meeting  of  the  Pitt  Club,  he  poured 
Ibrth  squib  after  squib  against  '  The  Doctor,'  inter- 
spersed with  an  occasional  hit  at  the  indifference,  real 
or  assumed,  of  Pitt.  The  extreme  eagerness  displayed 
by  Canning  for  the  restoration  of  the  heaven-born 
minister,  as  well  as  the  independent  tone  he  assumed 
in  his  remonstrances  wilh  liis  chief,  may  be  learned 
from   '  Lord  Malmesbury's  Memoirs.' 

The  best  of  his  satirical  efiiisions  against  Addington 
a])peared  in  a  newspaper  called  '  The  Oracle,'  Avhich  is 
alluded  to  by  Lord  Grenvillc  in  a  letter  of  June  14, 
1803,  as  showing  a  disposition  to  go  over  to  the  Govern- 
ment side:  'You  will  see  that  "The  Oracle"  PJiilip- 
pizes,  and  probably  for  the  same  reasons  that  produced 
that  elTect  of  old.'  They  are  reprinted  in  the  'S])irit 
of  the  Public  Journals ' 'for  1803  and  1804.  As  this 
has  become  a  scarce  and  not  easily  accessible  compi- 
lation, we  sliall  extract  a  portion  of  the  less  known 
sfjuibs  which  the  concurrent  voices  of  contemporaries 
assign  to  Canning.  To  him  undoubtedly  belongs  tlie 
song : 

'  How  bltst,  how  firm  the  statesman  stands, 

(Him  no  low  intri<^ue  sliall  move,) 
Circled  by  faithful  kindred  bands, 
And  propp'd  by  iond  fniterndl  love  ! 
'  When  his  speeches  hobble  vilely, 
Wliat  "  Ilrtir  /hdis.'"  burst  from  Jhotber  Hiley ; 
Wlicn  Lis  faltering'  periods  h'^, 
Hark  to  the  cheers  of  Jh'utlur  lira-'! ' 


AS    A    .\[AX    OF    LKTTERS.  L5 1  9 

Caiiuiiig's  play  uf  I'aiicy  may  be  li-accd  in  the  ct^u- 
cliiding  lines  of  'Good  Intentions' : 

*  "  'Twere  best,  no  doubt,  the  truth  to  tell, 
But  still,  good  soul,  he  viemi^  no  ici-lll  ' 
Others  with  uecromantic  skill, 
M;iy  bend  men's  passions  to  their  will, 
Uaise  with  dark  spells  the  tardy  loan, 
'J'o  shake  the  vaunting  ConnitTs  throne ; 
In  thee  no  magic  arts  surprise, 
No  tricks  tp  cheat  our  wondering  eyes  ; 
On  thee  shall  no  suspicion  fall, 
Of  slight  of  hand,  or  cup  and  ball ; 
E'en  foes  must  own  thy  spotless  fame, 
Unbranded  with  a  conjuror's  naincJ 

Ne'er  shall  thy  virtuous  thoughts  conspiie 
To  wrap  majestic  lyunnci  in  fire! 

And  if  that  black  and  nitrous  grain, 
"Which  strews  the  fields  with  thousands  slain, 
Slept  undiscovered  yet  in  earth — 
Thou  ne'er  had?t  caus'd  the  monstrous  birth, 
Nor  aided  (such  thy  pure  intention) 
That  diabolical  invention  ! 

Hail  then — on  whom  our  State  is  leaning  I 
O  Minister  of  mildest  meaning  ! 
Blest  with  such  virtues  to  talk  big  on, 
AVith  such  a  head  (to  hang  a  wig  on). 
Head  of  wisdom  —  soul  of  candour  — 
Happy  Britain's  guardian  gander, 
To  rescue  from  th'  invading  fimd 
Her  "  commerce,  credit,  capital  I  " 
While  JRome's  great  goose  could  save  alone 
One  Capitol^of  senseless  stone.'  ^ 

Was  it  possible  to  say  more  courteously  of  a  states- 
man that  he  was  no  conjuror,  and  that  he  would  ne\er 
have  set  the  Thames  on  fire,  nor  have  discovered  tlie 
invention  of  gunpowder,  although  quite  competent  to 
rival  the  fcatliered  saviours  of  the  Capitol?  Tlie 
changes  are  rung  on  the  Doctor  with  inexhaustible 
versatility,  as  in  the  happy  parody  of  Douglas  : 

*Mj'  name's  the  Doctor :  ou  the  J3erkshire  hills 
^ly  father  pur^r'd  his  patients — a  wise  man ; 
AVliosc  constant  care  was  to  increase  his  store, 
And  keep  his  eldest  son — myself — at  home. 
J'ut  1  had  heard  of  p(ditics,  and  long'd 
To  f;it  within  the  Comnujus'  House  and  get 
A  place:  and  luck  gave  what  my  sire  denied.' 


220  Till::    KUIIIT    HUN.    GEORGE    CAXXLVG 

■•  Eielicuie,'  wriLcs  Lord  Cliesterfield,  '  tliougli  not 
founded  upon  truth,  will  stick  for  some  time,  and  if 
thrown  by  a  skilful  hand,  perhaps  for  ever.'  Nick- 
names are  serious  matters,  even  in  a  grave  country  like 
England.  In  the  correspondence  of  the  time,  Addiiigton 
is  almost  iuvariably  mentioned  as  the  Doctor,  and,  as 
we  stated  in  a  recent  nianber.  Lord  Holland  quotes  the 
old  Lord  Liverpool  as  Iv.iving  'justly  observed  that 
Addington  was  laughed  out  of  power  and  place  by  the 
bean  monde.'  Prior  to  the  Eeform  l^ill,  what  old  Lord 
Liverpool  must  have  meant  by  the  beau  itioiide,  namely, 
the  fine  gentlemen  (including  the  leading  wits  and 
orators)  who  congregated  at  the  clubs  in  St.  James's 
Street,  exercised  a  degree  of  influence  which  may  sound 
strange  to  politicians  of  our  day.  Yet  a  far  more 
powerful  and  better  sustained  fire  than  was  brought  to 
l)ear  on  Addington,  had  been  directed  against  Pitt  by 
the  wits  of  the  '  Piolliad,'  without  any  perceptible  efi'ect ; 
and  the  inherent  weakness  of  Addington's  go\'ern- 
ment  from  its  formation  sufficiently  explains  its  fate, 
quite  independently  of  the  laughter  it  provoked. 

AVhen  (May  7,  1804)  Pitt  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
resume  the  Prcniiiership,  Canning,  one  of  the  first  to 
Avhoin  he  connnunicated  his  intention,  had  his  choice 
of  two  offices,  the  Treasurership  of  the  Navy  and 
the  Secretaryship  of  War.  lie  chose  the  former, 
and  was  thereby  led  to  take  a  prominent  part  in  de- 
fendiiiii;  Lord  Melville.  Whilbivad,  in  movini'-  the 
impeachment,  ha])])eiied  to  let  fall  some  expressions 
whicli  struck  Canning  in  so  ludicrous  a  liglit  that  before 
till'  oration  was  well  ended  he  had  completed  a  report 
in  rhyme  : 

'  I'm  like  Archimedes  for  science  iind  skill ; 
I'm  like  a  young-  prince  going  striiight  up  a  lull ; 
I'm  like  (with  respect  to  the  fair  be  it  said) — 
I'm  like  a  youn<,'  lady  just  bring-jng  to  bed. 
ir  yiiii  a§k  why  the  iir.st  of  .July  I  remember 
Mure  than  .Vpril,  or  May,  or  Jam-,  or  Nu\ ember; 


AS    A    MAX    OF    i.KTTKKS,  221 

'Twas  on  that  day,  my  \o\\h,  witli  triilli  I  a.s.'^nre  ye, 

My  sainted  progenitor  set  up  liis  brewery. 

On  that  day,  in  the  morn,  he  began  brewinjf  beer  ; 

On  that  day,  too,  commencVl  lii.s  connubial  career; 

On  that  day  he  renew'd  and  he  issued  liis  bills  ; 

On  that  day  he  clear'd  out  all  the  cash  from  his  tills. 

On  that  day  too  he  died,  having  finish'd  his  summing, 

And  the  angels  all  cried,  here's  old  Whitbread  a-coming. 

So  that  day  still  I  hail  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh 

For  his  beer  with  an  e,  and  his  bier  with  an  i. 

And  still  on  that  day  in  the  hottest  of  weather, 

The  whole  Whitbread  family  dine  all  together. 

So  long  as  the  beams  of  this  house  shall  support 

The  roof  which  o'ershades  this  respectable  court — 

As  long  as  the  light  shall  pour  into  these  windows. 

Where  Hastings  was  tried  for  oppressing  the  Hindoos, 

]\[y  name  shall  shine  bright,  as  my  ancestor's  shines, — 

Mine  recorded  in  journals,  his  blazon'd  on  signs.' 

Useful  as  Guining's  talent  for  satire  had  proved  to 
his  party,  it  tended  rather  to  retard  than  accelerate 
his  advancement  to  high  office.  Thus  Lord  Malmes- 
bury  (March  14,  1807)  writes  : — '  He  is  unquestionably 
very  clever,  very  essential  to  Government,  but  he  is 
hardly  yet  a  statesman,  and  his  dangerous  liabit  of 
quizzing  (wliich  he  cannot  restrain)  would  be  most 
inipopular  in  any  department  which  required  pliancy, 
tact,  or  conciliatory  behaviour.'  In  the  very  next 
month  after  this  was  written,  however,  Canning  was 
made  Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs  in  the  administra- 
tion formed  by  the  Duke  of  Portland.  Hencefortli  liis 
contributions  to  the  press  became  less  frequent,  and  at 
length  closed  altogether,  except  when  he  was  tempted 
by  some  especially  congenial  topic. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  he  took  part  in  the 
MascG  Cateatonenses :  a  curious  medley  of  prose  and 
verse,  occupying  200  pages  of  manuscript  or  more. 
The  occasion  was  this.  Lord  Boringdon  (the  first 
Earl  of  Morley)  and  Mr.  Legge  (the  Hon.  and  Eev. 
A.  G.)  had  heard  of  a  Swiss  preacher  in  the  City  and 
asked  Canning,  then  at  the  Foreign  Office,  where  he 
(the  preacher)  was  in  tlie  habit  of  preaching.     Can- 


222         Tin-:  rkiiit  iiox.  ceoroe  caxxixc; 

iiiiiii;,  wlu)  know  iiotliiiig  about  tlie  matter,  answered 
Avitliout  hesitation,  '  Cateaton  Street.'  TJie  two  friends 
went  tliere  accordingly  on  the  following  Sunday, 
found  no  preacher,  and  returned  as  they  went.  This 
bootless  expedition  gave  rise  to  a  comic  narrative  of 
their  adventures,  written  mostly  by  Canning,  illus- 
trated by  Sneyd,  and  followed  up  by  some  twenty 
or  thirty  sets  of  verses  by  their  friends.  A  manuscript 
copy  of  the  whole  (we  believe  the  only  copy  extant)  is 
or  was  at  Saltram,  the  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Morley. 

The  narrative,  placed  in  the  mouth  of  the  honour- 
able and  reverend  gentleman,  begins  by  stating  that, 
after  breakfast  at  his  lordship's  house,  he  was  shown 
into  a  small  apartment,  or  cabinet,  in  whic^h  he  found 
a  copy  of  his  own  jn-inted  sermons  uncut ;  a  delicate 
attention  which  he  duly  a]:)preciated.  On  their  way 
in  his  lordship's  carriage  to  Cateaton  Street,  he  took  a 
volume  of  them  from  his  pocket  and  began  reading 
one  aloud,  but  stopped  on  seeing  that  his  lordship  was 
asleep ;  whereupon  his  lordship,  waking  up  for  a 
moment,  observed  :  '  Pray  go  on  ;  never  mind  me.' 
'  I  then,'  continues  the  narrative,  '  told  him  two  of  my 
best  stories — Nos.  9  and  15  in  my  note-book — but  his 
lordship  remarked  that  he  had  frequently  heard  both 
of  them  before.'  These,  given  from  memory,  may  be 
taken  as  fair  specimens  of  ilnsjeu  cVe.'<prit. 

Canning  was  one  of  the  three  or  four  persons  who 
were  first  consulted  about  the  institution  of  the 
Quarterly  Eeview,  suggested  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  for 
the  purpose  of  counteracting  wliat  he  called  the  wide- 
spread and  dangerous  inlhience  of  the  l^Alinburgh 
lieview.  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  George  Ellis,  dated  Nov.  2, 
1808,  Scott  says : — 'Canning  is,  I  have  good  reason  to 
know,  very  anxious  about  the  plan.'  On  the  18th  he 
wi'ites  to  tlie  same  correspondent: — 'As  our  start  is 
of  such  innnense  consequence,  don't  you  tliink  Mr. 
Canning,  though  un(|uestionaljly  our  Athis,  might  for 


AS    A    MAX    <>K    l.llTTiCUS.  22 


^^o 


a  (lay  find  a  neivulcs  on  wliom  to  devolve  tlic  buidi'u 
ol"  the  globc!,  wliile  he  ^vl•iles  us  a  review?  I  know 
wliat  an  audacious  request  this  is;  but  su])pose  lie 
sliould,  as  great  statesmen  sometimes  do,  take  a  i)ohtical 
lit  of  the  gout,  and  absent  himself  fi'om  a  large  min- 
isterial dinner,  winch  might  give  it  him  in  good  earnest, 
— dine  at  three  on  a  chicken  and  })int  of  wine,  and  lay 
the  foundation  of  at  least  one  good  ai'ticle.  Let  us 
but  once  get  alloat,  and  our  labour  is  not  wortli 
talking  of;  but,  till  then,  all  hands  must  work  hard.'  ^ 
The  request  was  not  made,  or  not  granted,  or  no 
Hercules  could  be  found  to  bear  the  Ijiu'den  of  the 
globe  whilst  Atlas  was  composing  an  article  for  the 
'  Quarterly.'  But  we  learn  from  the  same  authority, 
that  two  articles  on  Sir  John  Sinclair  and  his  Bullion 
Treatises,  which  appeared  in  the  numbers  for  Novem- 
ber, 1810,  and  February,  1811,  were  the  joint  pro- 
duction of  Canning  and  Frere  ;  and  it  was  understood 
at  the  time  that  the  popularity  of  an  article  headed 
'Mr.  Brougham — Education  Conniiittee,'  which  ap- 
peared in  the  same  review  for  December,  1818,  was 
mainly  owing  to  the  additions  and  finishing  touches  of 
the  accomplished  statesman.  This  article  was  pro- 
fessedly by  Dr.  Monck,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Glouces- 
ter, who  merely  supplied  the  coarse  cloth  on  which  the 
gold  lace  and  spangles  were  to  be  sewn, — the  pudding 
for  the  reception  of  the  plums, — and  made  himself 
ridiculous  l)y  snbsequently  taking  credit  for  the  wit.'-^ 

'   r>nckhai-t"s  '  Life  of  Sir  'Waller  ScoU,'  vol.  ii.  p.  214. 

*  In  lii.s  third  letter  to  Arclideaccm  Singleton,  Sydney  Smith  says: 
— '  I  was  afraid  the  bishop  would  attribute  my  promotion  to  tlie  Ediii- 
Imrgh  Review;  but  upon  the  subject  of  promotion  by  reviews  ho  pre- 
serves an  impenetrable  silence.  If  my  excellent  patron,  l<]arl  Grey,  had 
any  reasons  of  this  kind,  he  may  at  least  be  sure  that  the  reviews  oom- 
nionly  attributed  to  me  were  really  written  bj-  me.  1  should  have  con- 
sidered myself  as  the  lowest  of  created  beings  to  have  disguised  myself 
in  another  man's  wit  and  sense,  and  to  have  received  a  reward  to  wliic  h 
1  was  not  entitled.'  The  late  Mr.  Croker  laid  claim  to  the  credit  of 
having  largely  aided  Canning  in  polishing  and  pointing  this  article. 


224  Tin:    lilCllT    IIO.V.    GKOKGH    CAXXINti 

The  articles  on  Sir  John  Sinclair  probably  owed 
nuich  of  their  success  to  the  popular  impression  of  that 
highly  respectable  and  rather  laughable  personage. 
They  are  fair  specimens  of  the  art  of  '  abating  and  dis- 
solving pompous  gentlemen.'  But  the  humour  is  spun 
out  to  tediousness  ;  and  the  consequence  is,  that  not  a 
single  passage,  condensed  and  pointed  enough  for  quo- 
tation, could  be  selected  from  either  of  them.  The 
same  remark  applies  to  the  lighter  passages,  inter- 
spersed amongst  the  weiglity  and  solid  lucubrations  of 
Dr.  Monck.  That,  for  example,  in  which  the  proposed 
Commission  is  quizzed  in  Canning's  peculiar  manner, 
occupies  more  than  a  page,  but  we  can  only  fmd  room 
for  the  concludin^f  sentences  :  — 

'  It  is  even  affirmed,  we  know  not  how  truly,  that  with 
the  help  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  British  Museum,  the 
learned  institutor  (Brougham)  had  actnally  constructed  the 
statutes  of  his  foundation  in  that  language  of  wliich  his  late 
researches  have  made  him  so  absolute  a  master  ;  and  the  oath 
to  ho  taken  by  each  candidate  for  a  fellowship,  and  by  each 
fellow  on  his  admission,  ran  in  something  like  the  following 
terms:  the  first,  Se  nunquain  duo  vel  plura  Brevla  intra 
Biennium  accepisse;  the  second,  of  a  more  awful  import, 
Se  nullas  prorsus  habere  possessiones  prwterquarn  unani 
Pvyrpuream  Baggam  flaccescenterti  omnino  inanitatis 
causd.^ 

The  last  of  Canning's  political  squibs  that  has  fallen 
in  oiu'  way,  is  the  following  : — 

LETTER  FROM  A  CAMHRIDGE  TUTOR  TO  HIS  FORMER  PUPIL,  BECOME 
A  MEMBER  OF  PARLIAMENT  :  WRITTEN  IN  THE  YEAR  (1824)  IN 
WHICH  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  FREDERICK  ROBINSON,  CHANCELLOR 
OF  THE  EXCHEUUKR,  REPEALED  HALF  THE  DUTY  ON  SEABORNE 
COALS    IMPORTED    INTO   THE    PORT   OF   LONDON. 

*  Yes !  fallen  on  limes  of  wickedness  and  woe, 
We  have  a  Pojiisb  ministry,  you  know  ! 
I'repared  to  li;:lit,  I  humbly  do  conceive, 
New  tires  in  Suiithfi(!ld,  with  Dick  Martin's  leave. 
Canninjjc  for  this  with  Robinson  conspires,  — 
The  vietini,  this  provides,  —  and  that,  the  fire's. 


AS    A    MAX    OF    LETTERS.  225 

Already  they,  with  purpose  ill-concealed, 
The  tax  on  coals  have  partially  repealed  ; 
While  Iluskisson,  with  computation  keen. 
Can  tell  how  many  peeks  will  burn  a  dean. 
Yea  !  deans  shall  burn  !  and  at  the  funeral  pyre, 
With  eyes  averted  from  the  unhallow'd  fire  — 
Irreverent  posture !  Ilarrowby  shall  stand, 
And  hold  his  coat  flaps  up  with  either  hand.' 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  any  of  the  clever  squibs 
collected  in  '  The  JSTew  Whig  Guide '  are  by  Canning, 
but  he  has  been  traditionally  credited  with  the  parody 
of  Moore's  beautiful  song,  '  Believe  me,  if  all  those 
endearing  young  charms  ;  '  the  gentleman  addressed 
being  a  distinguished  commoner  afterwards  ennobled 
(the  Fu-st  Lord  Methuen),  who  was  far  from  meriting 
the  character  thereby  fastened  on  him  : — 

'  Believe  me,  if  all  those  ridiculous  airs, 
Which  you  practise  so  pretty  to-day, 
Should  vanish  by  age  and  your  well-twisted  hairs, 
Like  my  own,  be  both  scanty  and  grey : 

Thou  would'st  still  be  a  goose,  as  a  goose  thou  hast  been, 

Though  a  fop  and  a  fribble  no  more, 
And  the  world  that  has  laughed  at  the  fool  of  eighteen, 

Would  laugh  at  the  fool  of  threescore. 

'Tis  not  whilst  you  wear  that  short  coat  of  light  bi'own, 

Tight  breeches  and  neckcloth  so  full. 
That  the  absolute  void  of  a  mind  can  be  shown, 

Which  time  will  but  render  more  dull.  ^ 

Oh,  the  fool  that  is  truly  so,  never  forgets, 

But  as  truly  fools  on  to  the  close. 
As  Ponsonby  leaves  the  debate  when  he  sits. 

Just  as  dark  as  it  was  when  he  rose.' 

Most  of  the  families  with  whom  Canning  lived  on 
terms  of  cordial  intimacy  have  retained  one  or  more 
specimens  of  his  occasional  verses.  These  playfid 
lines  were  addressed  to  Mrs.  Leigh  on  her  wedding- 
day,  a  jyropos  of  a  present  from  her  to  him  of  a  piece 
of  stuff  to  be  made  into  a  pair  of  shooting-breeches  : — 

'  While  all  to  this  auspicious  day. 
Well  pleased  their  grateful  homage  pay. 
And  sweetly  smile,  and  softly  say 

A  thousand  pretty  speeches  j 

VOL.  I.  (.» 


226  THE   RIGHT   HOX.   GEORGE    C^VXNIXG 

JNIy  miisc  shall  touch  her  tuneful  strings, 
Nor  scorn  the  lay  her  duty  brings, 
The'  humble  be  the  theme  she  sings — 
xV  pair  of  shooting-breeches. 

Soon  shall  the  tailor's  subtle  art 
Have  fashioned  them  in  every  part — 
Have  made  tliem  tight  and  spruce  and  smart, 
"With  twenty  thousand  stitches. 

Mark  then  the  moral  of  my  song, 

Oh  !  may  your  loves  but  prove  as  strong, 

And  wear  as  well,  and  last  as  long, 

As  these  my  shooting-breeches. 

And  when  to  ease  this  load  of  life, 
Of  private  care  and  public  strife, 
My  lot  shall  give  to  me  a  wife, 
I  ask  not  rank  or  riches. 

Temper,  like  thine,  alone  I  pray. 
Temper,  like  thine,  serenel}'  gay, 
Inclined,  like  thee,  to  give  away, 

Not  wear  herself —  the  breeches  ! ' 

Tlic  best  of  liis  verses  of  tlie  serious  and  pathetic 
kind  are  the  epitaph  to  his  sou,  who  died  in  1820  : 

*  Though  short  thy  span,  God's  unimpeach'd  decrees. 
Which  made  that  shorten'd  span  one  long  disease. 
Yet,  merciful  in  chastening,  gave  thee  scope 
For  mild,  redeeming  virtues,  faith  and  hope ; 
Meek  resignation  !  pious  charity  : 
And,  since  this  world  was  not  tlie  world  for  thee, 
Far  from  thy  path  removed,  with  partial  care. 
Strife,  glory,  gain,  and  pleasure's  flowery  snare, 
Bade  earth's  temptations  pass  thee  harmless  by. 
And  fix'd  on  heaven  thine  unreverted  eye  ! 

Oil !  marli'd  from  birth,  and  nurtured  for  the  skies  ! 
In  youth,  with  more  than  learning's  wisdom,  wise  ! 
As  sainted  martyrs,  patient  to  endure  ! 
Simple  as  unwean'd  infancy,  and  pure  ! 
Pure  from  all  stain  (save  that  of  human  clay. 
Which  Christ's  atoning  blood  hath  wash'd  away  !) 
By  mortal  sufl'erings  now  no  more  oppress'd, 
!Mnunt,  sinless  spirit,  to  thy  destined  rest  I 
Wliile  I,  reversed  our  nature's  kindlier  doom, 
Pour  forth  a  father's  sorrows  on  thy  tomb.' 

It  would  be  both  instructive  and  entertaining  to  t  race 
tlic  influence  of  Canning's  Hterary  taste  and  talents, 
with  their  peculiar  cuhivalion  and  application,  upon 


AS    A    MAX    OF    LETTERS.  227 

his  oratory.     To  liis  confirmed  habit  of  quizzing  iiiiglit 
be  owing   that   qiiahty  of  his  speeches  which   led   to 
tlieir  being  occasionally  mentioned  as  mere  efl'iisions  of 
questionable  facetiousness  ;  whilst  to  the  glowing  fancy 
which  gave  birth  to  the  graceful  poetry  reproduced 
in  these  pages,  might  be  traced  those  ornate  specimens 
of  his  eloquence  which  have  caused  him  to  be   by 
many  inconsiderately  set  down  as  a  rhetorician.     We 
refer,   for   humour,  to   the   speech  on  the  Indcinnity 
Bill,   in   which   occurs  the   unlucky   allusion    to   the 
'  revered  and  ruptured  Ogden ; '  for  imagination  and 
beauty  of  expression,  to  the  description  of  tlie  sliips  in 
Plymouth  harbour,  to  the  comparison  of  Pitt's  mis- 
taken worshippers  to  savages  wdio  only  adore  tlie  sun 
when  under  an  eclipse  ;  and  to  the  fine  comparison  of 
the  old  continental  system  recovering  after  the  revolu- 
tionary deluge  to  '  the  spires  and  turrets  of  ancient 
establishments  beginning  to  reappear  above  the  sub- 
siding  wave.'       Yet   surely   even   the    chastest    and 
severest  school  must  admit  that  fancy  and  humour  add 
point  and   strength   to   knowledge  and  truth.     JSTor, 
looking  to  more  recent  examples,  will  it  be  denied  that 
hterary  acquirements  and  accomplishments  may  form 
the  Corinthian  capital  of  a  parliamentary  reputations^ 
and  indefinitely  exalt  the  vocation  and  character  of 
statesmanship. 


a  :i 


228 


MAESHAL  SAXE. 

From  the  Edinburgh  Revtbw  for  Oct.  1864. 

Moritz,  Graf  von  Sachsen,  Marschall  von  Franhreich. 
Nach  ai'cliivalischen  Quellen  vou  Dr.  Karl  von 
Weber,  Miiiisterialratli,  Director  des  Haupt-Staat- 
arcliivs  zu  Dresden.     Mit  Portrait.     Leipzig:  1863. 

Few  names  are  more  bruited  abroad  than  that  of 
Marshal  Saxe.  It  is  familiarly  associated  in  men's 
minds  with  warlike  renown  and  romantic  adventure. 
He  is  the  hero  of  a  hundred  tales  of  ambition,  courage, 
gallantry,  and  intrigue,  amatory  or  political,  and  his 
memory  inspires  an  interest  widely  different  from  that 
wliicli  we  feel  in  many  renowned  warriors  whose 
military  fame  may  haply  stand  higher  and  rest  on  a 
sounder  basis  than  his.  This  is  doubtless  owing  in 
great  measure  to  the  social  position,  career,  and 
character  of  the  man  ;  but  large  allowance  must  be 
made  for  our  imperfect  knowledge  of  several  curious 
events  of  his  life,  as  well  as  for  the  artificial  colouring 
with  which  French  writers,  regarding  him  as  their 
peculiar  property,  have  invested  it.  Not  content  with 
elevating  all  his  campaigns  as  commander-in-chief 
under  Louis  XV.  into  masterpieces,  they  have  given 
him  credit  for  sundry  minor  exploits  which  fortunately 
are  not  needed  for  his  reputation,  since  they  are  clearly 
not  susceptible  of  proof. 

As  matters  stood,  Dr.  Karl  von  Weber's  was  just 
the  kind  of  publication  required  to  put  some  future 
biographer  in  full  possession  of  the  facts  ;  for  we  cannot 
compliment  him  on  having  supplied  the  striking  nar- 
rative and  graphic  portrait  for  which,  thanks  to  his 
acuteness  and  diligence,  the  materials  are   complete. 


MARSHAL   SAXE.  229 

He  has  obviously  no  talent  for  historic  scene-painting, 
no  power  of  animated  description,  small  sense  of  the 
imaginative  or  picturesque,  no  enthusiasm  to  kindle, 
and  no  eloquence  to  lead  astray.  Ilis  pride  is  to  be 
an  exact  chronicler,  to  make  a  conscientious  use  of  the 
treasures  in  the  State  Archives  of  Dresden  of  which  he 
is  the  official  keeper,  and  to  show  the  superiority  of 
the  knowledoie  derived  from  ori^-inal  documents  to 
that  acquired  from  more  popular  and  accessible  sources 
of  information.  He  has  certainly  succeeded  to  this 
extent,  and  we  will  endeavour  to  give  our  readers  the 
benefit  of  his  labours  by  as  complete  a  summary  as  our 
limits  will  allow  of  the  amended  and  improved  narra- 
tive for  which  we  are  indebted  to  him.^ 

That  mental  and  physical  qualities  are  inherited  is 
a  common  belief,  and  there  are  physiologists  who 
maintain,  with  Savage,  that  superior  organisation  is 
the  natural  and  probable  concomitant  of  illegitimate 
bu-th.  Marshal  Saxe  may  be  confidently  cited  in  sup- 
port of  either  theory.  His  father  was  Frederic 
Augustus,  Elector  of  Saxony  and  King  of  Poland, 
equally  famous  for  corporal  strength  and  moral  weak- 
ness, for  skill  as  an  athlete  and  incapacity  as  a  poli- 
tician, for  princely  splendour  and  dissolute  extrava# 
gance.  To  the  court  of  this  sovereign  at  Dresden, 
towards  the  end  of  1G94,  came  the  beautiful  Countess 
Aurora  von  Konigsmark,  like  a  distressed  damsel  in 
tlie  days  of  chivalry  to  demand  the  protection  of  a 

^  The  principal  works  on  the  same  subject,  to  which  frequent  re- 
ference will  be  made,  are  Ldtres  et  Mcmoires  choisies  parmi  les  Papiers 
originattx  du  Marechal  de  Saxe.  Paris,  1794,  5  volumes.  Eloye  da 
Maurice,  Comtc  de  Sa.re,  &c.  &c.  Par  M.  Thomas,  Professeur,  &c. 
Paris,  1759.  Histoire  de  Blaurke,  Comte  de  Saxe,  &c.  &c.  2  volumes. 
Dresden,  1700.  3Ies  lieveries,  par  Maurice,  Comte  de  Saxe,  &c.  2 
volumes.  Paris,  1757.  Histoire  de  Maurice,  Comte  de  Saxe.  Par  M.  le 
Baron  d'Espagnac,  &c.  2  volumes.  Paris,  1775.  BUujraphie  et 
Maximes  de  Maurice  de  Sa.re.  Par  De  la  BaiTe  Duparcq.  Paris,  1851. 
A  series  of  articles,  based  on  Dr.  von  Weber's  work,  from  the  able  pen 
of  M.  Saint-lien^  Taillandier,  has  recently  (1804)  appeared  in  the 
Revue  des  Deux  blondes. 


230  MARSHAL   SAXE. 

knight.  She  was  the  sister  of  that  Count  Phihp  von 
Konigsmark  whose  tragical  death  at  Hanover  is  still 
involved  in  mystery  ^ ;  and  her  object  was  to  procure 
justice  against  his  su])posed  murderers  and  the  restitu- 
tion of  his  property  to  tlie  family.  The  Elector  (who 
was  not  King  of  Poland  till  1697)  received  her  as  he 
was  wont  to  receive  handsome  women,  and  she  listened 
to  him  as  fair  and  frail  petitioners  are  apt  to  listen  to 
wooers  who  can  bestow  or  promise  as  well  as  ask 
favours. 

The  pubhc  opinion  of  the  time  was  more  than 
lenient  to  irregularities  when  the  chief  transgressor 
was  of  royal  or  quasi-royal  dignity :  the  daughter 
of  a  noble  house,  far  from  forfeiting  her  place  amongst 
her  equals  by  becoming  the  mistress  of  a  king, 
frequently  found  herself  the  marked  object  of  their 
envy  and  obsequious  flattery,  wliilst  the  offspring  of 
the  intrigue  took  rank  only  just  below  the  legitimate 
scions  of  royalty.  Ducal  titles,  with  corresponding 
appanages  and  privileges,  were  granted  to  them  in  the 
leading  European  monarchies  :  the  high-spirited  Maria 
Theresa  condescended  to  conciliate  Madame  de  Pompa- 
dour by  addressing  her  in  an  autograph  letter  as  Chere 
Scear\  and  the  low-born  Du  Barry  held  a  court  at- 
tended by  the  ambassadors,  at  which  all  strangers  of 
distinction  were  presented  to  her.  It  does  not  appear 
that  the  Countess  Aurora  felt  at  all  degraded  by  giving 
birth  to  a  son,  the  avowed  fruit  of  an  illicit  inter- 
course ;  and  although  she  chose  the  obscure  village  of 
Goslar  for  her  confinement,  no  real  secrecy  was  ob- 
served. She  lost  no  time  in  procuring  the  paternal 
recognition  of  her  offspring,  and  from  his  birth  to  her 
dying  diy  grasped  every  opportunity  of  preferring  his 
claims  to  the  distinctions  and  establishment  belitting 
royal  blood. 

He  was  born  on  the   15th  or  19th  October,  "1696, 

'  See  '  Ellin.  IJev.,'  vol.  cxvi.  p.  100. 


M.iRSHAL   SAXE.  231 

and  a  gossiping  letter-writer  of  the  period  states  tliat 
'  the  young  adventurer  has  begun  his  adventures  at 
fifteen  days  old  by  going  in  a  cradle  with  liis  nurse  by 
coacli  from  Goslar  to  Hamburg  ; '  adding,  '  it  is  said 
tliat  he  is  about  to  commence  his  romance  by  putting 
an  end  to  that  of  his  mother,  who  is  not  his  nurse.'  It 
seems  that  her  romance  was  already  terminated :  the 
Elector's  fickleness  was  proverbial,  and  in  this  instance 
an  inopportune  illness  of  the  lady  had  accelerated  the 
ordinary 'result.  She  knew  him  too  well  to  attempt 
the  recovery  of  his  affection,  if  that  be  not  too  strong 
a  term  for  a  passing  fancy ;  but  she  made  a  gallant  and 
sustained  effort  to  gain  and  keep  the  sort  of  influence 
which  Queen  Caroline  exercised  over  the  coarse  mind 
of  George  II.,  by  abandoning  all  feminine  rivalry  and 
appeahng  by  turns  to  his  understanding  or  his  self- 
love.  On  this  ground,  however,  she  was  encountered 
by  an  able  and  unscrupulous  minister.  Count  Flem- 
ming,  who  had  made  a  careful  study  of  his  master's 
character,  and  has  bequeathed  to  future  premiers, 
similarly  situated,  the  fruits  of  liis  observations  and 
reflections  on  the  best  course  to  be  pursued  in  such 
emero'encies  : 

*  The  King  is  fond  of  women,  it  is  true,  and  who  woula 
not  be  fond  of  them  !  But  the  King-  loves  them  to  lighten 
the  burthen  of  affairs,  and  by  no  means  with  a  romantic 
passion  :  yet,  by  reason  of  the  fine  and  obliging  manners  of 
His  Majesty,  the  ladies  to  whom  he  has  been  attached  have 
conceived  the  idea  of  becoming  absolutely  mistresses  of  his 
will,  even  to  the  point  of  becoming  mistresses  of  his  affairs. 
The  evil  has  been  that,  amongst  the  ministers,  some  have 
been  found  complaisant  enougli  to  comply  from  court  policy 
with  the  wishes  of  these  favourites,  which  I  on  my  part  have 
constantly  refused,  offering  at  the  same  time  to  do  so,  but 
only  by  the  master's  orders,  and  never  having  had  such 
orders,  I  have  not  l)ecn  able  in  any  manner  to  gratify  tliem. 
This  is  why  these  ladies  have  attributed  so  much  authority 
to  me.' 


232  MARSHAL   SAXE. 

The  King  showed  no  dishiclination  at  any  time  to 
provide  handsomely  for  his  illegitimate  children,  and 
Flennning  readily  concurred  in  a  fair  and  reasonable 
provision  for  most  of  them.  Moritz,  or  Maurice,  who 
from  his  earliest  inftmcy  is  designated  as  Count,  appears 
to  have  enjoyed  eveiy  advantage  of  nurture  and  educa- 
tion that  money  and  powerful  patronage  could  bestow. 
In  1703  we  hear  of  him  at  Breslau,  near  which  his 
mother  had  purchased  an  estate,  and  shortly  afterwards 
at  Leipzig,  under  the  care  of  a  governor  and  sub- 
governor.  In  170-4  the  King  sent  him  under  the  same 
charge  to  Holland,  with  an  allowance  of  3,000  thalers 
per  annum  ;  and  in  January  1706,  after  an  intervening 
\isit  to  Saxony,  his  tutor,  an  officer  named  Yon  Stot- 
terofrijfen,  writes  to  Flemmino;  from  the  Haizue  : 

'  The  dear  little  Count  Maurice  is  in  perfect  health,  and 
makes  great  progress  in  all  he  is  learning.  He  is  admired 
here  by  all  the  great,  and  he  is  invited  everjAvhere  on  ac- 
count of  his  amiability.  He  often  visits  the  Princess  of 
West  Frise,  who  is  here  with  the  Princess  of  Eadzivil,  her 
sister.  We  are  acquainted  with  many  public  ministers,  as 
M.  de  Gersdorff,  M.  de  Schwettau,  and  ]M.  de  Eotbmar. 
They  come  to  see  us  and  we  go  to  dine  occasionally  with 
them.  I  hope  he  will  one  day  perfectly  support  the  rank 
whicli  his  high  birth  has  given  him.  Neither  will  His 
Majesty  have  misplaced  his  benefits,  and  you,  sir,  will  have 
the  goodness  to  procure  us  tlie  continuation  of  them. 
According  to  the  't  Gazette,"  His  Majesty  has  instituted  a 
new  order  of  chivalry.  It  would  be  a  token  of  his  remem- 
brance if  the  young  Count  could  be  honoured  by  it ;  a  lord 
{seigneur)  like  him  should  never  be  without  such  a  dis- 
tinction.' 

The  tutor's  report  may  be  safely  accepted  as  an 
authority  for  the  degree  of  consideration  in  which  his 
])upil,  then  in  his  tenth  year,  was  held  amongst  the 
great  people  of  the  Hague,  as  well  as  for  his  pleasing 
manners  and  attractive  dei)ortment ;  but  his  progress 
in   learning  h  a   wholly  dillerent   matter,   which   the 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  233 

wortliy  man  liad  an  obvious  interest  in  placing  in  the 
most  favourable  liglit.  The  truth  t^eems  to  be  that 
Maurice's  case  in  this  respect  supphed  an  exact  parallel 
to  the  well-known  one  of  the  Due  de  Eichelieu,  who 
(as  he  said  himself)  quarrelled  witli  grammar  in  boy- 
hood and  never  made  up  their  difference.  In  writing 
French,  then  as  now  the  language  of  courts  and  polite 
society  througliout  Europe,  Saxe  was  entirely  guided 
by  his  ear,  and  his  syntax  was  frequently  on  a  par  with 
his  orthography.  No  specimen  of  his  German  letters  (if 
he  wrote  any)  has  fallen  under  our  notice;  but  he 
confessedly  found  the  difficulties  presented  by  the  ele- 
ments of  ordinary  education  insurmountable.  Amoni^st 
the  papers  discovered  by  Dr.  von  Weber  in  the 
archives  is  a  memoir  of  his  early  days  by  Maurice 
himself,  preserved  through  the  treachery  of  an 
amanuensis,  who  surreptitiously  supplied  Flemming 
with  a  copy.  It  is  the  commencement  of  a  meditated 
autobiography,  begun  in  1727  as  a  pastime,  and  ap- 
parently laid  aside  when  it  had  served  the  immediate 
purpose  of  occupying  some  idle  hours.  Speaking  of 
his  pupilage,  he  says  : — 

'  I  was  so  inattentive,  that  it  was  impossible  to  teach  me 
anything.  It  was  believed  that  if  the  climate  and  my  moae 
of  life  were  changed  my  turn  of  mind  would  cliange  too, 
and  I  was  sent  with  a  governor  and  under-governor  to  Hol- 
land, attended  by  a  valet,  the  sight  of  whom  was  enough  to 
give  one  a  tit.  At  the  Hague  every  effort  was  made  to 
instruct  me.  /  remember  that  my  teachers  themselves  pro- 
posed to  have  an  iron  machine  put  on  me  to  compress  my 
skull,  asserting  that  it  was  half  open.  I  learnt  much 
quickly,  as  the  military  exercise  and  mathematics  ;  they 
were  obliged  to  give  up  reading  ;  for  when  I  studied  in  a 
book  and  I  was  asked  where  I  was,  and  what  I  had  read,  I 
did  not  know  a  syllable ;  it  was  no  better  with  arithmetic 
if  I  was  required  to  do  sums  on  paper,  but  wlien  I  was 
allowed  to  calculate  in  my  head,  there  were  no  simas  which 
I  had  not  worked  sooner  than  others  could  work  them  with 


234  M.UISHAL   SAXE. 

pen  and  ink.  /  tvas  exactly  like  the  devils  loho  does  vjliat 
he  is  not  asked  to  do ;  and  I  learnt  perfect  Dutch  in  less 
than  six  months  without  a  teacher.  My  governor  made  a 
report  of  my  progress,  and  remarked  that  he  had  given  up 
teaching  me  anything,  because  there  was  in  me  a  mixture  of 
stupidity  and  recklessness  with  which  he  could  not  contend.' 

A  fresli  tutor,  afterwards  professor  at  Leipzig,  was 
called  in,  and  attempted  to  teach  him  Latin,  history, 
&c.,  like  a  parrot ;  but  the  task  was  given  up  as  hope- 
less after  the  third  lesson.  He  w^as  broug-ht  back  to 
Dresden  at  the  end  of  1708,  and  on  the  5th  of  January, 
1709,  General  von  Schulenburg  unexpectedly  entered 
his  apartment  with  the  welcome  announcement  that  the 
King  intended  to  make  a  soldier  of  him  at  once ;  that 
he  'svas  to  return  thanks  in  person ;  that  he  was  to  start 
the  next  morning ;  that  his  equipage  was  ready  ;  and* 
tliat  lie  need  only  take  liis  valet  along  with  him.  Scliu- 
lenburg  was  an  officer  of  high  distinction,  who  con- 
ducted the  retreat  of  the  Saxons  across  the  Oder,  when 
pursued  by  the  Swedes,  in  so  masterly  a  manner  as  to 
elicit  the  involuntary  praise  of  Charles  XII.  :  '  This 
time  Schulenburg  has  conquered  us.'  'It  is  the  sanie 
Schulenburg '  (adds  Voltaire)  '  vrlio  was  afterwards 
General  of  the  Venetians,  and  to  whom  tlie  republic 
has  erected  a  statue  in  Corfu  for  defending  this  rampart 
of  Italy  against  the  Turks.  It  is  only  republics  that 
confer  such  honours ;  kings  give  nothing  beyond 
rewards.'  The  amount  of  })aternal  interest  felt  for 
Maurice  is  sufliciently  shown  by  the  appointment  of 
sucli  a  man  to  be  his  military  godfather  and  in- 
structor : — 

'  I  was  beside  myself  with  joy' — proceeds  the  Memoir — 
'  that  I  .should  never  more  have  a  governor.  Scliulonburg 
liad  ordered  me  a  uniform  ;  I  put  it  on,  and  decked  myself 
with  a  broad  sword-belt  and  a  long  sword,  (faiters  (i  la 
Saxonne  completed  my  military  array,  in  whicli  I  was  con- 
ducted to  the  .King  to  kiss  his  hand.  I  supped  with  him, 
and  I  was  iiiadi'  lo  drink  hard  to  his  hoalfli.     Tlie  upsliot  of 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  235 

the  examination  was  that  I  was  tolerably  well  up  in 
g-eoraetry,  drew  well,  and  was  ready  in  the  preparation  of 
plans.  The  King  told  Sehiilenburg  he  expected  tliat  all 
plans  sent  to  him  should  be  designed  by  my  hand.  "  I 
desire,"  he  continued,  "  that  you  will  give  the  lad  a  good 
shaking  up,  which  he  requires,  and  witliout  any  reserve  ;  that 
will  harden  him.  31ake  him  begin  by  marching  to  Flanders 
on  foot." 

'  This  direction  was  not  to  my  taste,  but  I  dared  not 
oppose  it.  Schulenburg  answered  for  me  (in  very  ap- 
propriate words  certainly,  which  were  far  from  expressing 
my  thoughts)  tliat  ray  only  wish  was  that  my  strength  miglit 
be  equal  to  my  zeal,  and  so  forth.  The  going  on  foot 
pleased  me  least  of  all :  I  had  much  rather  have  found  my- 
self in  the  cavalry,  and  I  intimated  as  much,  but  was  rouglily 
silenced.  The  King  told  Schulenburg,  "  I  will  on  no  ac- 
count have  him  relieved  from  carrying  his  arms  on  the 
march — his  shoulders  are  broad  enough ;  and,  above  all,  do 
not  allow  him  to  miss  his  turn  of  guard,  unless  he  is  ill,  and 
seriously  ill."  I  pricked  up  my  ears,  and  thought  that  the 
King,  whom  I  had  always  found  so  kind,  was  now  speaking 
like  an  Arab  ;  but,  as  I  reflected  at  the  same  time  that  I  was 
quit  of  governors,  I  forgot  everything  else  and  esteemed 
myself  the  happiest  of  mortals.  The  rest  of  the  day  was 
spent  in  leavetaking,  and  the  next  morning  I  left  Dresden 
in  the  carriage  of  my  general.' 

At  Leipzig,  where  they  stopped  eight  days,  he  re- 
ceived the  promised  equi})me!it,  cons^isting  of  four  small 
riding  liorses,  with  trappings  complete,  a  berlin  and 
twelve  mules,  a  corresponding  number  of  servants,  and 
a  head  groom ;  but,  greatly  to  his  discomfiture^  there 
was  also  a  governor,  under  the  deceptive  title  of  '  gen- 
tleman.' On  the  15th  January,  1709,  the  corps  was 
reviewed  at  Liitzen,  he  was  placed  in  the  first  battalion, 
a  musquet  was  given  him,  and  he  was  formally  pledged 
to  tlie  standard  : — 

'  Schulenburg,  leaning  upon  the  stone  whicli  marked  the 
spot  where  Grustavus  Adolphus  fell,  embraced  me  after  I  had 
taken  the  military  oath,  and  said  :  "  I  liope  tliis  place  may 


236  M-\ESIIAL   SAXE. 

be  of  as  good  augury  to  you  as  I  draw  from  it :  may  the 
spirit  of  the  great  man  who  died  here  descend  upon  you ; 
may  his  gentleness,  his  firmness,  and  his  rectitude  of  purpose 
accompany  you  in  all  your  dealings.  Be  as  obedient  to 
orders  as  strict  in  command;  be  never  indulgent  out  of 
friendship  or  personal  consideration,  even  in  regard  to  small 
ofifences.  Remain  blameless  in  morals,  and  you  will  rule 
men :  this  is  the  keystone  of  our  vocation  ;  the  other  quali- 
ties which  exalt  it  are  gifts  of  nature  and  fruits  of  experi- 
ence." I  answered  that  I  accepted  the  favourable  omen, 
and  that  I  should  take  care  to  profit  by  his  doctrines.  He 
embraced  me  a  second  time,  and  I  returned  to  the  front.' 

We  need  hardly  add  that  never  was  moral  lesson 
more  utterly  thrown  away,  and  that,  if  the  virtues  of 
Gustavus  Adolphus  had  been  indispensable  in  a  com- 
mander, Schulenburg's  pu})il  would  never  have  risen 
from  tlie  ranks.  The  gentlemen  who  persist  in  misunder- 
standing the  object  of  a  test  examination  for  tlie  British 
army,  may  also  back  an  unsound  argument  by  his 
example ;  for  he  would  most  assuredly  have  obtained 
no  marks  for  grammar,  spelling,  or  cyphering. 

He  was  presented  the  same  evening  to  the  officers  of 
the  corps,  to  whom  he  gave  a  supper  of  one  hundred 
covers.  On  the  16th  of  January  the  march  towards 
Flanders  began.  He  was  always  on  foot :  his  colonel, 
a  man  in  advanced  years,  with  some  otlier  odicers, 
walked  with  him  out  of  deference  ;  a  piper,  with  soldiers 
singing,  led  and  lightened  the  way.  Thus  animated 
and  encouraged,  he  held  on  manfully  for  some  days,  till 
his  shoulders  were  bruised  black  and  blue  by  the  lieavy 
musquet,  and  his  feet  too  sore  to  proceed.  He  then 
rode,  but  the  soldiers  laughed  at  him,  and  he  si)eedily 
resumed  the  march  on  foot.  In  tliis  manner  he  reached 
Hanover,  and  at  this  point,  unfortunately,  all  that  was 
ever  known  to  exist  of  the  autobiogi'apliy  breaks  off. 
It  contains,  however,  portraits  of  the  Polish-Saxon  king 
and  coLirl,  including  a  far  from  flattering  one  of  Fiem- 
minir,  .'ind  some  details   of  the   Swedish   campaign  of 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  237 

1706.  His  account  of  tlie  celebrated  visit  paid  by 
Cliailes  XII.  to  Augustus  Frederic  whom  he  had  sworu 
to  dethroue,  is  remarkable,  as  resting  doubtless  on  tlie 
best  information  and  chiTering  materially  from  Voltaire's. 
It  may  be  observed  in  passing,  that  this  memoir,  so 
opportunely  brought  to  light  by  Dr.  von  Weber,  puts 
an  extinguisher  upon  the  story  adopted  by  the  French 
biographers,  of  Maurice  having  followed  his  fatlier  on 
foot  to  the  Netherlands  in  1708,  suddenly  appeared 
before  Lille,  and  forthwith  given  signal  proofs  of  bravery. 
He  was  first  under  fire  in  the  trenches  before  Tournay 
in  July  1709,  the  place  to  which,  thirty-six  years  later, 
he  laid  siege  at  the  head  of  a  French  army  ;  but  here 
again  Dr.  von  Weber  sees  traces  of  French  exaggeration 
in  the  accounts  of  his  manner  of  exposing  himself  and 
the  risks  he  ran.  They  go  on  to  say  that  when  the 
allies,  with  the  view  of  beleaguering  Mons,  sent  a  de- 
tachment of  cavaky  with  a  foot-soldier  behind  each 
horseman,  Maurice  Avas  one  of  the  first  to  sAvim  a  river  thus 
encumbered,  and  would  have  been  taken  in  the  ensuing 
skirmish  had  he  not  unhorsed  his  assailant  by  a  pistol- 
shot.  After  the  battle  of  Malplaquet  again  (11th  Sep- 
tember, 1709),  he  is  said  to  have  manifested  his  satis- 
faction at  the  part  he  took  in  it  by  the  exclamation, '  Je 
suis  content  de  ma  journee ;'  which,  though  reported  to 
do  him  honour,  would  have  a  precisely  opposite  effect 
if  it  were  true,  since  Schulenburg  left  him  behind  on 
the  advance  and  (as  is  proved  by  an  extant  letter  from 
her)  w^as  thanked  by  his  mother  for  so  doing. 

Some  months  afterwards,  we  find  him  still  in  leadincr- 
strmgs  under  his  old  governor,  Stotteroggen ;  a  project 
for  placing  him  in  the  Jesuits'  College  at  Brussels  having 
been  laid  aside,  principally  in  comphance  with  the  en- 
treaties of  his  mother,  who  was  afraid  of  his  abandoninsf 
...  ^ 

the  Protestant  Confession  in  wliich  he  had  been  brought 

up.     The  regulations  laid  down  by  royal  authority  for 
the  employment  of  his  day  sound  strange,  \\'hen  it  is 


238  MARSHAL    SAXE. 

remembered  that  lie  luid  already  endured  all  the  hard- 
ships of  a  campaign  like  a  formed  soldier.  He  was  to 
rise  at  six  ;  to  dress  in  half  an  hour ;  then  prayers  ; 
then  breakliist,  consisting  of  a  single  cup  of  tea ;  the 
morning  hours  till  one  were  devoted  to  study,  including 
genealogy  and  an  hour  for  drawing.  At  one  came 
dancing  and  fencing  lessons ;  in  the  evening,  two  hours 
for  arithmetic  and  orthography.  One  of  tlie  directions 
is  that  all  sedentary  work  should  be  done  with  an  hour- 
irlass  on  the  table,  that  the  time  miuht  not  be  wasted. 
Another  is, '  The  Count  having  learned  in  this  campaign 
jnany  fine  moral  sentences,  Latin  and  French — having 
even  on  many  occasions  applied  them  with  discern- 
ment— he  shall  repeat  them  every  day,  and  augment 
the  number  by  at  least  three  or  four  per  week.'  Before 
going  to  bed,  prayer  again,  and  reading  of  the  Bible. 

He  was  also  to  keep  an  exact  account  of  his  expenses 
to  send  to  his  mother ;  but  lessons  in  accounts  were  as 
much  wasted  on  him  as  lessons  in  orthography.  The 
proper  relation  between  income  and  expenchture  is 
Avhat  he  never  could  be  brouHit  to  understand.  The 
balance  at  this  very  time  was  against  him ;  and  his 
tutor  endeavoured  to  show,  as  a  justifiable  cause  for 
his  having  exceeded  his  allowance,  that  it  was  settled 
on  an  erroneous  footing,  which  he  had  outgrown  : — 
'  The  young  Count,  by  reason  of  his  stout  legs,  wears 
man's  stockings  ;  the  stockings  commonly  supplied 
for  lads  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  being  all  too  small.'  The 
soundness  of  this  argument  was  practically  admitted 
by  a  royal  rescript  of  January  1710,  raising  the  allow- 
ance from  three  to  four  thousand  dollars. 

This  renewed  schooling  was  speedily  exchanged  for 
active  service ;  it  being  then  the  custom  for  ])oys  to  do 
duty  in  the  field  as  well  as  hold  commissions.  Amongst 
the  list  of  killed  at  Dettingen  was  a  Comte  de  Boufilers, 
aged  ten  :iiid  a  half,  wliose  leg  was  broken  by  a  cannon- 
ball  :  lie  looked  on  and  licld  il  whilst  it  was  amputated, 


MARSHAL   SAXE,  239 

and  died  with  perfect  calmness.  Maurice  waswitli  the 
allied  army  in  Flanders  during  tlie  campaign  of  1710, 
and  was  ])rescnt  at  tlie  sieges  of  Douay,  Bethune,  and 
Aixe.  In  the  trendies  before  Bethune,  his  governor 
received  a  severe  wound,  and  it  is  related,  but  still  on 
French  authority,  that  he  exposed  himself  in  a  manner 
to  provoke  a  reproof  from  Prince  Eugene  :  '  Young 
man,  learn  not  to  confound  temerity  with  valour.' 
When,  in  1711,  he  returned  to  Dresden,  his  reputation 
for  bravery  had  preceded  him,  and  liis  mother  profited 
by  the  advance  thus  made  in  the  royal  fjxvour  to  provide 
for  his  immediate  pecuniary  \vants  and  procure  him  a 
liberal  establishment.  Tlie  Konigsmark  property  was 
embarrassed,  and  her  claims  on  it  were  disputed  or 
postponed,  so  that  she  "was  driven  by  her  son's  necessities 
to  part  with  her  plate  and  jcAvels.  But  she  shrank  from 
no  sacrifice,  and  never  rested  till  she  had  persuaded  or 
driven  the  King  to  give  him  an  estate  worth  55,000 
dollars,  in  addition  to  the  4,000  dollars  a  year. 

This  donation  was  in  December  1711.  In  June  1713, 
the  young  Count  obtained  tlie  darling  wish  of  his  heart, 
by  being  named  colonel  of  a  regiment  of  cuirassiers : 
his  pension  was  increased  to  6,000  dollars,  and  towards 
the  end  of  the  same  year  a  marriage  was  arrangecl  f§r 
him  with  the  wealthiest  heiress  in  Saxony.  This  affair 
is  curious  and  instructive  in  many  respects,  and  reflects 
little  credit  either  on  the  King's  use  of  his  prerogative, 
or  the  general  administration  of  the  law  in  his  dominions. 
The  chosen  bride,  whose  destiny  may  recall  tliat  of  the 
heiress  of  the  Percys — the  innocent  cause  of  the  miurder 
of  Thynne  by  Konigsmark — ^was  Johanna  Victoria  von 
Loben.  When  she  was  only  eight  years  old,  her  parents 
entered  into  a  contract  for  her  betrothal  to  Count  von 
Fricsen,  provided  he  obtained  her  aflection  and  retained 
it  till  she  was  grown  up,  and  provided  also  a  named 
lordship  was  settled  on  liim  by  his  aunt.  A  few  days 
after  the  signature  of  this  agreement,  her  fatlier  died  ; 


240  MARSHAL   SAXE. 

and  her  mother,  on  the  expiration  of  the  regular  mouru- 
inir,  took  to  herself  a  second  husband,  an  officer  named 
von  GcrsdorfT,  who,  eager  to  secure  the  property  for 
his  own  family,  persuaded  his  wife  to  pledge  her 
daughter's  hand  to  his  nephew,  Lieutenant  von  Gers- 
dorir.  She  was  accordingly  betrothed  to  him  in  1707, 
being  still  only  nine  ;  and,  with  the  view  of  superseding 
or  evading  the  prior  claim  of  Count  von  Friesen,  he 
went  through  the  farce  of  running  off  with  her  without 
her  parents'  knowledge,  bribed  a  priest  to  marry  them 
in  the  prescribed  form,  and  then  presented  her  to  her 
mother  as  his  bride.  The  affair  was  brouuht  to  the 
notice  of  the  authorities  by  Count  von  Friesen,  who 
easily  succeeded  in  superseding  Gersdorff,  but  only  to 
encounter  a  more  formidable  rival.  The  King,  whether 
at  the  Countess  of  Konigsmark's  suggestion  or  fi'om 
his  owTi  paternal  foresight,  at  once  resolved  to  secure 
her  for  Maurice,  and  the  prehmiuary  steps  were  adopted 
without  scruple  or  delay.  The  Consistorial  Court  foimd 
the  betrothal  and  marriage  void,  and  declared  the 
heiress  free  from  any  binding  engagement.  The  King, 
assuming  the  guardianship  justly  forfeited  by  the 
mother,  ordered  the  girl  to  be  delivered  over  to  the 
custody  of  a  court  lady,  who  was  to  be  answerable  for 
her  breedinoj  and  education  till  she  was  of  marria2:eable 
years.  The  younger  Gersdorff  was  told  to  interfere 
at  his  peril :  Count  Friesen  was  bought  off  with  a 
round  sum  of  money,  and  before  she  was  thirteen  she 
was  the  affianced  bride  of  the  Count  of  Saxe. 

Two  of  the  French  biographers  assert  that  he  had 
little  inclination  for  the  match,  and  was  less  influenced 
by  the  fortune  than  the  name,  Victoria,  thinking  it  a 
good  omen  to  be  the  spouse  of  Victory.  She  was  de- 
liglited  at  her  new  prospects,  and  Dr.  von  Weber  has 
printed  a  letter  from  her  to  her  affianced  lord,  dated 
the  oOth  July,  1711,  in  which  she  promises  to  be 
t'tenially  ti-ue  to  him,  lunnbly  begs  that  he  will  reserve 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  241 

a  little  kindness  ('  ein  Bisschen  Gulheit ')  for  lier  in 
return,  and  ends  witli  six  lines  of  French  verse,  in 
which  the  sentiment  is  more  commendable  than  the 
syntax  or  the  rhythm  : — 

*  Que  iiotre  sort  est  deplorable, 
Et  que  nous  souffroiis  de  tourmeat 
Pour  nous  aimer  trop  con^taiunieut; 
Mais  c'est  en  vain  qu'on  nous  accable  — 
Malgr^  nos  eruels  enneniis, 
Nos  coeur  (m'c)  seront  toujours  unis.' 

They  were  married  on  the  12th  March,  1714, 
having  been  first  declared  of  consenting  age  by  royal 
rescript ;  the  regular  termination  of  the  minority  being 
anticipated  '  by  reason  of  the  well-known-to-Us  good 
bringing-up  of  both.'  The  settlements  were  highly 
favourable  to  Maurice,  who,  in  case  of  his  wife's  death 
without  children,  was  to  have  two-thirds  of  her  landed 
property,  besides  his  marital  right  to  the  personalties ; 
and  in  the  case  of  her  leaving  children,  one-third. 
Her  pin-money  was  fixed  at  2,000  dollars. 

Their  wedded  life  began  auspiciously  enough.  In 
the  course  of  the  following  autumn  she  announced  her 
pregnancy,  and  petitioned  the  King,  who  was  setting 
out  for  Poland  with  her  husband,  not  to  separate  them 
on  the  eve  of  her  confinement.  This  took  place  o^ 
the  25th  January,  1715,  when  she  was  brought  to  bed 
of  a  son,  who  died  in  infancy.  The  birth  was  notified 
to  the  King  by  a  special  messenger,  a  gentleman  who, 
by  way  of  honorary  recompense,  was  presented  with 
his  Majesty's  portrait  set  in  diamonds,  with  permission 
to  wear  it  instead  of  a  decoration  on  his  breast.  On 
the  very  day  of  the  event,  the  happy  father  nearly  lost 
his  life  by  a  foolish  act  of  bravado.  He  had  under- 
taken to  drive  a  sledge  across  the  Elbe  after  the  com- 
mencement of  the  thaw,  his  companions  being  Count 
Henry  of  Eeuss  and  a  friend.  They  had  just  reached 
*h(i  middle  of  the  river  when  the  ice  broke,  and  the 
sledge  and  horse  disai)peared  under  it.     Maurice  and 

VOL.  L  K 


242  M-VRSHAL    SAXE 

the  friend  managed  to  clamber  to  a  firm  part,  but  they 
had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  rescuing  Count  Henry, 
whose  prolonged  immersion  made  him  a  sadder  and 
wiser  man  for  the  remainder  of  his  days.  The  lesson 
was  lost  on  the  ringleader  of  the  frolic,  who  had  al- 
ready commenced  a  round  of  dissipation,  fatal  to 
domestic  happiness  as  well  as  ruinous  to  his  newly- 
acquired  fortune.  His  wife's  money  vanished  so 
rapidly,  that  in  less  than  five  years  we  find  his  mother 
again  a])pealing  to  the  King.  '  Unable,'  (she  writes) 
'  to  live  except  by  borrowing,  indigence  daily  exposes 
him  to  things  unworthy  of  him,  which  must  end  in 
despair.  As  for  Madame  la  Comtesse,  it  is  already 
nearly  four  months  since  she  took  refuge  with  me  in 
the  Abbey  (of  Quedlinbourg)  for  the  same  reasons,  all 
her  revenues  being  for  the  creditors.  I  owe  her  too 
much  not  to  share  with  her  the  little  I  have.' 

This  is  a  melanclioly  position  for  an  heiress  married 
to  an  embryo  hero  ;  and  it  is  not  the  worst  side  of  the 
picKire ;  for  his  repeated  infidelities  were  notorious, 
and  the  young  Coimtess,  on  her  side,  unless  she  is 
much  maligned,  was  not  scrupulous  as  to  the  method 
of  consoling  or  revenging  herself.  She  is  charged,  on 
strong  and  multiplied  evidence,  with  light  conduct  in 
Dresden  and  in  the  Abbey  of  Quedhnbourg,  whilst 
residing  there  as  the  guest  of  the  Abbess,  her  mother- 
in-law,  who,  with  or  without  reason,  ended  by  taking 
a  decided  part  against  her.  Besides  accusing  her  of 
su])])ing  with  bolted  doors  in  sus[)icious  company,  the 
Countess  Aurora  complained  to  the  King  that  her  own 
and  her  son's  lives. were  in  damper  from  the  machina- 
tions  of  her  daughter-in-law.  The  story  ran  that  she 
had  formed  a  close  friendship  with  a  yoiuig  lady  named 
ItDseuacker,  and  after  obtaining  her  (onfidiMice  by  pre- 
tending to  liclj)  liei-  in  an  intrigue,  produced  two  wliite 
powders,  and  directed  her  to  mix  one  in  Maurice's 
coffee,    'not   tea,    in    which  it  would  not    be    strong 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  243 

enough.'  He  would  sicken  and  die  in  four  months ; 
his  mother  woidd  be  tlu'own  into  despair,  and  if  the 
second  powder  was  then  administered  to  her  the  world 
would  believe  that  she  had  died  of  grief.  Miss  Rose- 
nacker  hesitated,  saying  that  the  intended  victims  had 
never  offended  her,  and,  having  quarrelled  with  her 
patroness,  betrayed  the  plot. 

In  a  subsequent  letter,  wdiich,  though  anonymous,  is 
confidently  attributed  by  Dr.  Weber  to  the  Countess 
Aurora,  the  young  Countess  is  accused  of  travelling 
with  a  runaway  page  of  her  husband's,  and  of  living 
with  him  for  six  weeks  together  on  one  of  her  estates, 
to  the  scandal  of  the  neighbourhood.     Despauing,  we 
presume,  of  reclaiming  a  woman  so  lost  to  all  sense  of 
propriety,  the  exasperated  mother  went  the  unpardon- 
able length  of  advising  her  son  '  de  lacher  entierement 
la  bride  a  la  Comtesse,  qui  se  perdroit  infailliblement.' 
This    counsel  justifies   a   doubt   whether   the    young 
Countess  had  been  really  guilty  of  any  tiling  worse  than 
imprudence.     In  a  frank  and  apparently  unguarded 
communication  wdth  Flemmiug,  she  assured  him  that 
she  had  not  compromised  her  honour  ;  adding  :  '  Pour 
le  reste,  une  jeune  personne  pent  bien  faire  une  faute, 
pom^vu    qu'elle  se  repente   et  se  corrige.'     She    ako 
complained  that  her  husband  had  treated  her  like  a 
little  girl,  threatening  to  give  her  a  governess  to  teach 
her   how   to   live,    had  reduced  her  from  wealth  to 
poverty,  and  driven  her  to  reside  in  a  house  more  like 
a  desert  than  a  habitable  spot.     We  are  favoured  with 
only  two  sentences  of  the  answer : — '  Votre  lettre  ne 
merite   pas  la  reponse  que  je  Vous   fais,'    tl'c.     '  Un 
homme   comme  moi  ne  se  lesse  pas  treter  aussi  ein- 
dignemans  que  Vous  le  fete.' 

Without  palliating  the  wife's  indiscretion,  all  must 
admit  that  the  husband  was  principally  to  blame. 
There  is  no  denying  that  he  wasted  her  fortune  by 
extravagance,    and   exposed   her     to    temptation    by 


244  M.\KSHAL   SAXE. 

neglect.  He  himself  was  evidently  conscious  that  he 
owed  her  some  compensation,  for  at  the  beginning  of 
1720  he  caused  a  memorial,  setting  forth  all  his  grie- 
vances, to  be  presented  to  her,  with  an  offer  '  to 
conceal  her  misconduct  from  the  public,  and  take  all  the 
blame  upon  himself,  if  she  would  desist  with  a  good 
grace.'  She  complied,  and  a  most  improbable  account  of 
tlie  ensuing  steps  taken  by  him,  as  well  as  of  the  pro- 
ceedings to  which  they  gave  rise,  is  sanctioned  by  several 
writers  of  respectability.  They  affirm  that  he  con- 
trived to  be  seen  in  llagrant  transgression  by  six 
servants  posted  for  the  purpose :  that  he  was  there- 
uj)on  dragged  to  trial  and  condemned  to  death :  that 
the  King  pardoned  him  on  the  evening  of  the  same 
day,  or,  according  to  another  version,  caused  the 
formal  pardon  to  be  placed  under  his  napkin  at  dinner 
the  day  after ;  and  that  the  sentence  of  divorce 
followed  immediately. 

All  this  is  pure  invention.  Although  the  real 
documents  found  in  the  archives  clearly  indicate 
collusion,  the  prescribed  forms  were  observed.  The 
Countess  applied  to  the  Consistorial  Court  for  a 
divorce,  alleging  infidelity  with  a  single  person,  but 
stating  that  she  had  additional  cases  in  reserve. 
The  Count  ap})eared,  and  said  he  could  not  deny 
the  allegation  ;  and  on  the  court's  suggesting  that 
haply  the  affair  might  have  arisen  from  a  misunder- 
standing or  animosity,  he  replied  that  the  terms  on 
which  he  and  his  wife  had  stood  were  indeed  not 
friendly,  but  that  he  could  not  deny  the  fact  with 
wliicli  he  was  charged.  Sentence  of  divorce  was 
accordingly  pronounced,  and  was  notified  to  the  King 
by  Maurice  in  terms  of  contemptuous  indillerence  : — 

'I  was  yesterday  before  the  Consistory,  tliat  is,  in  the 
liouse  of  M.  Leibziger,  and  after  the  president  had  pro- 
noiinccd,  with  all  the  politeness  in  the  world,  a  judi^incnt 
which  urdinari'ly  is  not  polite,  the  superintendent  wis.hcd  to 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  245 

regale  me  with  a  dish  of  his  own  cooking — for  tlie  priests 
are  always  eager  to  meddle  with  everything.  But  I  abridged 
the  harangue,  saying,  "  Sir,  I  know  very  well  what  you  are 
going  to  say :  we  are  all  great  sinners,  that  is  true,  the  proof 
is  complete."  I  made  my  bow,  and  left  what  is  called  the 
Supreme  Consistory  in  meditation  on  the  grand  truth  I  had 
just  announced  to  them.' 

The  lady,  notwithstanding  the  dilapidation  of  her 
fortune  and  the  passing  slur  upon  her  fair  name, 
soon  found  a  second  liusband,  had  a  large  family  of 
childi'en  by  him,  and  lived  happily  and  respectably. 
The  Count,  far  from  meditating  a  second  marriage, 
dismissed  the  whole  matter  so  completely  from  his 
thoughts,  as  to  have  almost  forgotten  that  he  had 
ever  been  married  at  all.  Madame  de  Pompadour 
writes  soon  after  his  death,  '  A  propos  of  poor  Saxe, 
he  had  sometimes  strange  ideas :  I  asked  him  one 
day  why  he  had  never  been  married.  "  Madame," 
he  replied,  "  as  the  world  goes  at  present  there  are  few 
men  of  whom  I  should  msh  to  be  the  father,  and  few 
women  of  whom  I  should  wish  to  be  the  husband." 
This  answer  was  not  remarkable  for  gallantry  :  how- 
ever, it  has  some  appearance  of  reason.  He  added 
that  a  wife  was  not  a  convenient  article  of  frirniture 
for  a  soldier.  An  epigram  in  verse,  in  the  same  spifit, 
was  generally  attributed  to  him  in  Paris  : 

'  Malgr^  Rome  et  ses  adherents, 
Ne  comptons  que  six  sacrenients  ; 
Vouloir  qu'il  en  soit  davantage 
N'est  pas  avoir  le  sens  commun, 
Car  cliacun  sait  que  mariage 
Et  penitence  ne  sont  qu'un.' 

His  married  life  lasted  rather  more  than  seven  years, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  managed  to  get  rid  of 
200,000  dollars  of  his  wife's  property,  and  the  whole 
of  his  own,  besides  taxing  the  royal  bounty  to  the 
uttermost.  The  truth  is,  he  could  not  exist  without 
sthiing  occupation  or  excitement  of   some   sort :  and 


246  MARSHAL    SAXE. 

when  wetiried  by  domestic  life,  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
betting  high  at  cards  and  bilUards.  In  a  match  at 
bilhards  with  Count  Castilh,  for  a  lai-ge  smii,  he 
exchiimed  at  the  end  of  every  game,  '  I  beheve  that 
the  other  is  a  better  phiyer  than  I : '  yet  he  went  on  ; 
and  on  another  occasion  he  was  too  drunk  to  know 
wliat  he  was  about,  and  was  disagreeably  sur])rised  at 
being  told  that  he  had  lost  1,040  ducats,  for  which  he 
was  induced  to  sign  a  bill.  Being  subsequently  con- 
vinced that  he  had  been  cheated,  he  repudiated  the 
debt  under  circumstances  in  which  a  man  of  nice 
sense  of  honour  would  regret  to  be  placed.  It  inci- 
dentally appears  that  duriug  many  years  he  was  pay- 
ing twelve  per  cent,  interest  to  creditors  of  name  and 
position,  who  had  assisted  him  by  loans.  To  do  him 
justice,  this  state  of  idleness  was  none  of  his  choosing  : 
for  he  never  missed  an  opportunity  of  active  and 
honourable  employment.  Tims,  in  1716,  he  was  in 
the  lield  and  before  Stralsund  with  his  regiment,  and 
an  adventure  befell  him  in  which  his  coui'age  and 
readiness  of  resource  in  danger  were  conspicuously 
displayed. 

He  wished  to  go  to  Seudomir,  where  Saxon  troops 
were  stationed ;  and  a  Mse  report  that  a  truce  had 
been  concluded  between  the  Saxons  and  the  Con- 
federated Poles  induced  him  to  undertake  the  journey 
in  the  company  of  five  oificers  and  twelve  servants, 
without  further  escort.  Towards  midday  he  arrived  at 
a  village  and  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  house  of  a 
Jew.  lie  had  scarcely  seated  himself  at  table  when 
an  attendant  rushed  into  the  room  with  tlie  news  that 
a  numerous  body  of  Poles  were  entering  the  village. 
Some  say  800  cavalry,  including  200  dragoons,  but 
the  Countess  Konigsmailv  puts  them  at  from  400  to 
5(10.  I'lie  Count's  plan  was  formed  on  the  instant. 
It  l)(.*iiig  impossible  for  liim  with  his  small  ti'oop  to 
doCeiid   tlie  court,  he  suflered  the  enemy  to  occupy  it, 


MARSHAL   SAXE.  247 

and  confined  himself  to  the  defence  of  the  liouse. 
They  forced  then*  way  into  the  ground  floor,  but  the 
stair's  were  removed,  holes  were  bored  in  the  floor  of 
the  second  story,  through  which  shots  were  fired  and 
lances  thrust  at  those  below ;  and  the  repeated  attacks 
of  the  assailants  were  successfully  repulsed,  although 
some  of  the  little  garrison  were  killed  and  several 
wounded,  then*  gallant  leader  having  received  a  shot 
in  the  thigh.  Night  ]3ut  an  end  to  the  conflict,  which 
had  lasted  five  hours,  and  the  Poles  set  a  watch  round 
the  house ;  but,  Maurice,  taking  advantage  of  the 
darkness,  made  a  sally  with  the  eleven  men  (some 
wounded)  which  he  had  left,  cut  down  the  sentinels, 
seized  the  required  number  of  horses,  and  efiected  a 
safe  retreat  into  the  neighbouring  forest.  This  exploit 
will  certainly  not  lose  by  comparison  with  the  fool- 
hardy and  useless  attempt  of  Charles  XII.  at  Bender 
to  defend  his  house  ao-ainst  the  Turks. 

Maurice's  first  visit  to  France,  the  destined  scene  of 
his  glory,  was  in  the  spring  of  1720  ;  and  the  object, 
in  addition  to  the  collective  deshe  of  his  well-wishers 
to  keep  him  employed,  may  be  gathered  fi-om  a  letter 
written  by  the  King's  desu^e  to  Flemming,  in  which 
the  writer  says  :  '  The  King  has  directed  me  to  consult 
your  Excellence  whether  you  would  approve  Couftt 
Maurice  de  Saxe's  engaging  in  the  service  of  France, 
where  he  might  learn  the  trade  of  war ;  whilst  in  this 
country,  where  we  neither  have  nor  wish  to  have  war, 
he  would  never  learn  anything.'  The  answer  was  that 
the  King's  thought  was  good  and  just,  '  provided  he 
(the  Count)  be  diligent,  for  as  there  are  ample  means 
in  France  of  learning  sometliing,  so  are  there  likewise 
of  forgetting  what  one  has  learnt.' 

He  was  precisely  the  kind  of  adventurer  to  make 
his  way  in  France  under  the  Eegency :  handsome, 
gallant,  dissolute,  pleasure-seeking,  with  a  made  reputa- 
ticai  for  reckless  bravery  and  a  risking  one  for  military 


248  ^fAE^IIAL    SAXE. 

j^kill.  Tie  was  at  once  named  marechal  de  camp  witli 
an  allowance  of  10.000  livres,  and  encouraged  to 
pm-cbase  an  infantry  regiment :  a  step  not  approved 
by  his  fotber,  who  wished  him  to  wait  till  one  was 
given  him.  Authorities  vary  as  to  the  price  ;  one 
naming  35,000  thalers,  another  130,000  ecus  de 
France.  Flemming  writes  : — '  It  is  apparently  from 
the  King's  purse  that  the  Count  de  Saxe  reckons  on 
papng  for  his  regiment.  Agreed,  if  the  ecu  is 
reckoned  at  three  livres  de  France,  but  if  they  are  to 
be  our  good  crowns,  I  must  say  that  at  this  price  we 
mi"ht  have  got  him  made  Lieutenant-General  and 
bought  liim  two  regiments.'  The  money  was  obtained 
with  some  difficulty,  and  the  new  Colonel  immediately 
proceeded  to  turn  his  purchase  to  good  account. 
Besides  paying  the  strictest  attention  to  the  discipline  of 
his  recriment,  he  tauoht  it  a  new  exercise  of  his  own 
invention,  which  is  highly  commended  by  the  Che- 
valier Folard  in  '  Commentaries  on  Polybius.'  At  the 
same  time  he  assiduously  studied  mathematics, 
mechanics,  and  fortification,  and  busied  himself  with 
the  construction  of  a  machine,  also  of  his  own  inven- 
tion, for  propelling  vessels  against  the  stream.  He 
afterwards  took  out  a  patent  for  it,  and  induced  a 
capitalist  to  join  with  him  in  introducing  it  into 
general  use.  It  failed  as  a  speculation,  and  is  stated 
to  have  consisted  merely  in  turning  two  wheels  by  a 
horse.  But  if  these  were  paddle-wheels,  his  discovery, 
differing  only  as  regards  the  motive  power  fi'ora  pro- 
pulsion by  steam,  was  an  important  step  in  the  right 
direction. 

His  mother  was  so  pleased  with  bis  im])roved  mode 
of  life,  that  she  wrote  to  the  King  to  express  her  joy 
that  he  had  not  forgotten  for  a  moment  the  oi'ders  of 
His  Majesty,  having  neither  gambled  nor  played  the 
petit  maitre.  'As  Paris'  (she  added)  '  is  a  sufliciently 
great  trial   foi'  a  young  man,  I  hope  your  j\lajesly  Avill 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  249 

be  satisfied  with  liis  conduct,  and  Avill  liencefoi'th  voucli- 
safe  him  your  good  graces.'  The  assurances  contained 
in  this  letter  were  somewhat  overstrained  by  maternal 
partiality,  for  if  he  had  not  indulged  in  what  is  regu- 
larly termed  play,  he  (to  use  Dr.  von  Weber's 
expression)  had  burnt  his  fingers  in  Law's  project, 
wdiicli  was  the  all-absorbing  topic  about  this  time,  and 
he  was  the  reputed  hero  of  a  love  affair,  wliicli  created 
much  scandal,  and  narrowly  missed  being  followed  by 
the  most  fatal  consequences. 

As  reported  by  Hoym,  the   Saxon  minister  at  the 
French  Comt,  the  story  ran  that  the  Prince  de  Conti, 
taking  umbrage  at  Maurice's  marked  attentions  to  his 
handsome  vdfe  and  hoping  to  surprise  them  together, 
suddenly  burst  into  her  apartment  armed  with  sword 
and  pistol ;  and  was  contemptuously  told  by  the  Princess, 
on  bemg  made  aware  of  his  object,  that  if  he  had  really 
expected  to  find  a  man  with  her,  he  w^ould  have  taken 
good  care  not  to  make  his  entrance  in  that  fashion. 
All  over  Paris  it  was  beheved  that  Maurice  was  there, 
and   had   been   killed  or   severely   wounded   by  the 
Piince.     By  an  odd  coincidence,  he  had  sprained  his 
foot   the  day  before   and  was  confined  to  his  room. 
This    of    course    tended    to    confirm   the    prevalent 
rumours ;    nor   is    it    quite    clear  even   now  that  tlie 
sprain  was  not  a  pretence  ;  for  tlie  Princess,  in  the 
interview  in  question  coolly  told  her  husband  that  she 
had  seven  modes  of  deceiving  him,  six  of  which  she 
particularised,  concluding  with  the  agreeable  informa- 
tion :  '  As  for  the  seventh,  I  shall  not  tell  it  you,  for  it 
is  precisely  the  one  wliich  I  am  employing  at  present.' 
Maurice  returned  to  liigh  play  in   1723,  and  lost  at 
a  single  sitting  3,000  dollars  to  a  French  general,  after 
mentioning  which,  Hoym  reports  that  there  was  no  hope 
of  his  reform.    In  May  1724,  he  made  an  excursion  to 
England,  professedly  only  to  buy  horses  and  intending  to 
preserve  astrict  incognito ;  but  Coq,the  Saxon  agent,  told 


2o0  M.VESIIAL   SAXE. 

him  that  he  must  be  presented  to  the  King  (George  I.), 
Avitli  whom  he  had  a  long  conversation  in  the  royal 
closet.  He  was  afterwards  frequently  invited  to  the 
Court  and  the  hunting  parties  at  Windsor.  He  also 
visited  Kensington  and  Hampton  Court,  and  attended 
the  races  at  JS^ewraarket,  wdiere  he  found  an  opportu- 
nity of  exhibiting  his  personal  strength  at  the  ex- 
pense of  a  scavenger  who  provoked  a  quarrel  with 
him  :  he  tlu'ew  the  man,  to  the  great  delight  of  the 
bystanders,  into  his  own  nuid-cart,  in  which  he  was 
nearly  stilled. 

The  whole  of  Maurice's  life  teems  with  odd  or 
striking  incidents,  but  we  now  pass  on  to  a  passage  of 
it  which  directly  connects  him  with  history  and 
caused  the  attention  of  all  Europe  to  be  fixed  upon 
him.  Early  in  the  eighteenth  century  it  became 
evident  that  the  hereditary  line  of  von  Kettlers,  Dukes 
of  Courland,  was  on  the  point  of  dying  out,  and  in 
1725  it  survived  only  in  the  person  of  the  reigning 
Duke,  a  childless  and  widowed  man  of  seventy.  The 
Duchy  having  been  held  since  1561  as  a  fief  of  the 
republic  of  Poland,  the  Poles  looked  forward  to  its 
speedy  annexation  or  incorporation ;  but  this  did  not 
suit  Eussia  or  Prussia  and  was  especially  disliked  by 
the  Courlanders.  They  therefore  looked  anxiously 
about  for  a  person  who  might  be  the  founder  of  a  new 
dynasty,  and  after  long  hesitating  amongst  a  multitude 
of  candidates,  they  nnide  choice  of  the  Count  of 
Saxe. 

He  was  principally  indebted  for  the  preference  to 
female  influence ;  an  essential  part  of  the  scheme  for 
his  elevation  being  his  marriage  with  a  Eussian  Prin- 
cess, either  Anna,  a  daughter  of  Peter  the  Great,  the 
young  and  handsome  widow  of  a  deceased  Duke  of 
Courland,  or  her  younger  sister,  Elizabeth.  Pjotli  of 
tliese  Indies,  captivated  by  the  Count's  I'epulalioii  for 
gallantry    ami  good  looks,  enudously  favoured    him. 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  25 1 

lie,  on  his  side,  adroitly  kept  them  in  suspense  as  to 
his  intentions,  although  at  first  he  inclined  towards 
Elizabetli,  a  girl  of  sixteen;  the  Dowager  Duchess 
being  some  years  older  and  more  attractive  from  the 
fullness  than  the  freshness  of  her  charms.  Her 
conduct  had  not  been  irreproachable — slie  would  have 
formed  a  marked  exception  to  tlie  females  of  her 
family  if  it  liad  been — and  the  Saxon  agent,  who  sent 
Maurice  a  highly  attractive  portrait  of  Elizabeth,  adds  : 
'  Certain  mahcieux  disoit  un  jour  qu'elle  n'auroit 
jamais  le  coeur  de  se  poignarder,  si  elle  donnoit  par 
occasion  un  coup  de  canif  au  parchemin  conjugal.'  It 
was  thouglit  that  the  Empress  Elizabetli,  her  mother, 
would  sanction  the  alliance,  and  the  young  Princess, 
who,  although  she  had  never  seen  Maurice,  had  heard 
much  of  him,  was  speedily  led  on  by  an  adroit  confi- 
dante, a  friend  of  his,  to  set  her  heart  upon  it.  She  is 
reported  saying  to  this  friend :  '  I  do  not  wish  to  imi- 
tate  princesses  who  are  ordinarily  victims  of  state 
policy;  I  w^ish  to  marry  according  to  my  taste,  and 
have  the  man  I  like  for  my  husband.'  On  which  the 
friend  replied  :  '  I  know  one  that  you  love  with  all 
your  heart.'  '  Yes,'  she  said,  '  I  know  whom  you  are 
going  to  mention.  I  believe  it,  like  you  ;  but  I  have 
not  yet  seen  him :  tell  me  what  sort  of  man  he  is.' 
'  Suffice  it  to  say,'  rejoined  the  friend,  '  that  he  is 
worthy  of  a  crown.' 

The  King's  personal  wishes  were  naturally  on  his 
side,  but  his  minister,  Flemming,  and  the  Eepublic  of 
Poland  were  adverse  ;  and  just  as  he  was  on  the  point 
of  starting  for  Courland  and  Petersburg  under  the  pre- 
tence of  forwai-ding  his  mother's  claim  to  the  Kcinigs- 
mark  estates  in  Esthland,  the  Count  de  ManteufTel 
brought  him  an  order  from  the  King  not  to  go.  The 
minister  found  him  booted  and  spurred  for  the  journey, 
and,  on  bcnng  asked  whether  the  order  was  })ositive, 
replied  in  the  ailirmative;  upon  which  the  Count  left 


252  MARSHAL    SAXE. 

tlie  room  suddeiily,  after  saying  tliat  he  was  anxious  to 
obey  the  King  in  all  things,  but  that  if  he  did  not  set 
out,  all  would  be  lost  for  him,  and  that  he  would 
consider  what  he  had  to  do.  He  told  some  ladies  that 
whoever  overtook  him  must  travel  very  fast,  and 
before  the  King,  who  had  retired  to  rest,  was  apprised 
of  his  intention,  he  had  started  with  a  small  band  of 
followers.  At  Mittau  he  fell  in  with  the  Princess 
Anna,  on  whom  he  made  the  most  favourable  impres- 
sion, and,  without  absolutely  committing  himself,  he 
induced  her  to  regard  his  and  her  interest  as  identical ; 
for  he  wrote  to  his  mother : — '-  She  shows  me  every 
encouragement,  and  has  herself  written  to  the  Czarina 
with  the  view  of  becomino;  throuo;h  me  Duchess  of 
Courland  a  second  time.'  Having  learnt  that  the 
title  of  Count  shocked  the  Duchess  of  Courland, 
he  also  wrote  to  ManteufTel,  begging  him  to  con- 
trive that  in  a  letter,  which  he  prayed  the  King  to 
address  to  Prince  Menschikow,  he  might  be  named 
simply,  'Mon  fils  legitime  Maurice  de  Saxe.'  He 
probably  meant  legitime.  The  King  so  far  complied 
with  the  request  as  to  drop  the  title  of  Count  in  the 
letter,  and  it  was  thenceforth  dropped  by  Maurice. 

His  cause  was  warmly  espoused  by  many  other 
women  of  rank  or  celebrity,  who  stopped  at  no  sacri- 
fice to  forward  it.  The  famous  Adrieimc  Lecouvreur 
sold  all  her  ornaments  and  sent  him  the  proceeds, 
amounting  to  40,000  livres.  Of  a  Polish  woman  of 
rank,  the  Countess  Vielinska,  a  contemporary  letter 
states :  '  She  has  lent  her  silver  plate  and  even  the 
person  of  her  admirer,  M.  d'Astel,  to  look  a  liltle  after 
the  Count  de  Saxe.'  Flemming  writes  of  his  chief  sup- 
poi-ler  amongst  the  magnates  of  Courland,  Grand- 
]\I;irsli;il  Count  Pocietz:  '  He  has  engaged  in  lliis  afliiir, 
like  Adam  in  tlie  original  sin,  led  astray  by  liis  wife  ; ' 
and  Lc  Fort  declared  that  liis  oppijnenls  must  hold 
llic;mselves  prei)ared   for   '  uiu'  guerre  de  quenouilles.' 


MAKSIIAL    SAXE.  253 

The  important  day  at  leiigtli  drew  on,  and  des- 
pite of  a  peremptory  prohibition  to  tlie  Landtag  to 
meet  for  the  purpose,  the  deputies  (hd  meet  at  Mittaii 
to  the  number  of  tliirty-two,  cliose  their  returning 
officer,  attended  a  grand  banquet  given  by  the  Fiincess 
Anna  in  honour  of  the  occasion,  and,  on  the  28th  June, 
ri^  !  18^26-,  unanimously  elected  Maurice  of  Saxony  their 
'  Duke-successor.  A  regular  diploma  of  liis  election 
was  delivered  to  him  and  he  immediately  began  taking 
measures  to  establish  his  claim. 

At  first  the  aspect  of  things  was  smiling  enough  ;  he 
had  promises  of  recognition  and  even  suj)port  from 
Eussia,  and  he  had  hopes  that  his  father  would  be 
willing  and  able  to  neutralise  the  opposition  of  the 
Poles ;  who  insisted  on  calling  their  monarchy  a  repub- 
lic by  way  of  intimating  that  their  first  magistrate  was 
more  like  a  president  than  a  king.  He  began  to  form 
plans  of  government,  and  announced  his  determination 
to  nurse  the  heavily  charged  revenues  of  the  Duchy, 
as  soon  as  they  came  under  his  management,  with 
exemplary  care  and  economy.  After  remarking  that 
nothing  was  so  ridiculous  as  the  mock  splendour  of  a 
petty  court,  he  proceeds :  '  Plenty  of  muskets  and 
bayonets  in  my  armoury,  and  few  courtiers  in  my  anti-^ 
chambers — at  the  same  time  I  shall  establish  some 
public  amusements,  to  attract  the  nobles  to  the  town, 
which  will  polish  them,  make  commerce  flourish, 
augment  expenditure,  and  consequently  industry.' 

He  was  soon  i-udely  awakened  from  his  dreams  of  sove- 
reignty. Prince  Menschikow,  a  disappointed  competi- 
tor, entered  Mittau  on  the  lOth  July,  with  a  numerous 
suite,  supported  by  a  body  of  Eussian  dragoons,  and  on 
the  12th  a  personal  interview  took  place  between  the 
rivals.  Nothing  material  came  of  it,  except  the  worst 
possible  oj)inion  formed  by  Maurice  of  the  Prince,  of 
whom,  writing  to  Manteulfel,  he  says  : — '  It  would  be 
diflicult  to  express  what  obstinacy,  Iblly,  and  ignorance 


251  MARSHAL    SAXE. 

I  have  found  in  liim.  The  vanity  inseparable  from 
these  quahties  exists  in  him  in  its  highest  degree.'.  .  . 
'  On  his  asking  me  how  I  proposed  to  sustain  myself,  I 
replied  that  I  knew  very  well  I  was  not  in  a  condition 
so  to  do,  but  that  the  aflair  was  sustaining  itself.'  The 
Prince,  who  at  the  same  time  seemed  not  indisposed 
to  be  bought  off,  indulged  his  arrogance  to  the  extent 
of  tlircatening  to  send  the  electors  to  Siberia.  Some 
writers  have  stated  that,  in  dealing  with  Maurice,  he 
did  not  confine  himself  to  threats.  Tliey  say  that 
800  Eussians  made  a  night  attack  on  the  house  of  the 
Duke  Elect,  who  had  only  sixty  men  with  him  :  that 
he  beat  them  off  with  the  loss  of  sixteen  killed  and 
many  wounded  :  that  a  damsel  who  was  with  him  dis- 
guised herself  in  his  clothes,  and  let  herself  down  from 
the  window  by  a  cord,  to  draw  attention  on  herself 
and  give  him  an  opportunity  of  escaping ;  that  at 
length  the  guard  of  the  Duchess  Anna  came  up,  and 
drove  away  the  Eussians.  In  all  this  there  is  not  a 
syllable  of  truth  ;  although,  hearing  that  an  attack  was 
meditated,  Maurice  made  preparations  for  repelling  it, 
and  Menschikow  soon  afterwards  left  Mittau,  leaving 
his  interests  in  the  care  of  Prince  Dolgoroukow,  whose 
mode  of  forwarding  thein  is  treated  with  sovereign 
contempt  by  Maurice.  The  Duchess  Anna  was  inde- 
fatigable in  her  endeavours  to  secure  the  neutrality,  if 
not  the  support,  of  Eussia  ;  and  it  was  quite  upon  the 
cards  that  he  miglit  luive  become  Czar  Consort  as  well 
as  Duke  ofCourland  through  her,  had  he  not  wantonly 
offended  her  in  a  manner  which  it  was  impossible  for 
a  high-spirited  woman  to  forgive. 

Mr.  Carlyle  somewhat  broadly  indicates  the  ground 
of  quarrel  when,  after  comparing  her  cheeks  to  West- 
phaha  hams,  he  says  that  '  the  big  widow  discovered 
tliat  he  did  not  like  Westphalia  hams  in  that  particular 
form  :  that  he  only  pretended  to  like  them.'  She  had 
assigned  him  an  apartment  in  her  palace  ;  opposite,  on 


MARSHAL   SAXE.  255 

tlie  ground-lloor,  lodged  one  of  her  ladies,  with  Avliom 
he  had  clandestine  interviews.  One  night,  wlien  she 
was  paying  him  a  visit,  there  was  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  : 
to  spare  her  tender  feet  he  took  her  on  his  shoulders 
and  carried  her  across  the  court.  Unluckily,  they  en- 
countered an  old  woman  with  a  lantern,  who,  at  the 
sight  of  a  figure  with  two  heads  moving  towards  her, 
uttered  a  shriek  of  terror.  He  tried  to  extinguish  the 
lantern  by  treading  on  it,  but  his  foot  slipped,  and  he 
fell  with  his  fair  burthen  on  the  old  woman,  who  now 
redoubled  her  shrieks  till  the  watch  came  up  and 
recognised  the  actors  in  the  scene,  which  soon  reached 
the  ears  of  the  Duchess.  The  similarity  of  this  story 
to  one  told  of  Charlemagne's  daughter,  coupled  with 
the  habitual  tendency  of  the  biographers  of  Maurice 
to  engage  him  in  romantic  adventuras,  might  well 
justify  a  suspicion  of  its  authenticity,  were  it  not  in 
such  perfect  keeping  with  his  character,  as  well  as 
warranted  by  Dr.  von  Weber,  who  seldom  errs  on  the 
side  of  credulity. 

Another  piece  of  ill-luck  was  the  death  of  the 
Czarina  Catherine,  always  his  personal  well-wisher  ; 
after  which  Eussia  became  undisguisedly  hostile  to 
him,  and  the  Poles,  no  longer  kept  in  check  by  either 
of  the  great  Powers,  and  carrying  their  titular  King 
along  w^th  them  whether  he  would  or  not,  proceeded 
to  the  most  summary  mode  of  compelling  Coin-land, 
w^hich  they  insisted  on  regarding  as  a  rebellious  pro- 
vince, to  surrender  its  independence  and  its  new  Duke. 
On  the  approach  of  the  Russian  and  Polish  troops,  he 
retired  with  a  chosen  band  to  an  island  in  a  lake, 
where  he  was  beleaguered  and  in  dani^er  of  beincr 
taken  by  the  Russian  commander,  who  refused  to 
allow  liim  more  than  two  days  for  reflection,  and 
hinted  at  '  un  pays  eloigne  en  perspective,'  meaning 
Siberia.  Not  wishing  to  cause  a  useless  effusion  of 
blood,  Maurice  swam   the  lake  alone  on  horseback, 


256  iFARSHAL    SAXE. 

and  escaped  to  Wiiid<jii ;  his  little  baud,  twelve  officers, 
thirty-three  servants,  ninety-eight  dragoons,  and  one 
liundred  and  four  militia  infantry,  became  prisoners  to 
the  Ilussiaus  ;  nine  canuou  and  all  his  baggage  also  fell 
into  their  liands.  The  original  diploma  of  his  election 
was  saved  by  his  faithful  valet,  Beauvais.  He  "and  his 
immediate  followers  had  been  already  proscribed  by 
the  Polish  Diet,  and  a  price  was  put  upon  his  head. 
J3ut  the  successful  faction  dealt  lightly  with  his  parti- 
sans, and  he  himself  was  permitted  to  reach  France, 
where  a  fresh  mortification  was  in  store  for  him,  which 
he  bore  with  more  equanimity  than  the  disappointment 
of  his  ambition. 

The  moment  he  arrived  in  Paris  he  hurried  to  his 
beloved  Adrienne,  and  was  immediately  shown  into 
her  boudoir.  On  the  writing-table  lay  a  letter  which 
he  opened  without  ceremony,  and  found  it  to  be  a  love- 
letter  fi'om  the  Count  d'Argental,  condoling  with  her 
on  the  dreaded  return  of  Maurice.  Scarcely  had  he 
mastered  its  contents,  when  Adrienne  entered  and  wel- 
comed him  with  the  greatest  tenderness.  He  speedily 
left  her  luider  the  pretence  of  changing  his  travelling 
dress,  and,  hastening  to  D'Argental,  requested  him  to 
accompany  him  to  her  apartment.  The  favoured  adorer 
complied  in  silence,  under  the  full  conviction  that  a 
mortal  duel  was  at  hand,  and  was  agreeably  surprised 
when  he  was  presented  to  the  lady  with  these  words : 
'  Here,  my  little  dove ;  accept  this  gentleman  at  my 
hands :  the  conquered  must  crown  the  conqueror.' 
Adrienne,  consummate  actress  as  she  was,  fell  into  con- 
vulsions, sighed,  and  talked  of  killing  herself,  but 
tliought  better  of  it,  and  lived  on  to  be  poisoned  by  a 
jealous  rival  in  17o0. 

'Die  actress  was  refused  Christian  buiiiil  in  conse- 
quence of  her  profession,  and  M.  Taillandier  censures 
her  former  lover  for  leaving  the   duty  of  protesting 


MARSHAL    S,L\E.  2i)  i 

against  the  indignity  to  Vollaire'  ;  but  the  peculiar 
termination  of  their  intimacy,  combined  with  his  known 
iudiiTerenc^e  to  rehgious  matters,  must  be  admitted  as 
some  paUiation  for  the  alleged  want  of  feeling  or  grati- 
tude in  this  particular  instance.  We  also  have  reason 
to  dou])t  whether  M.  Lemontey,  the  author  of  an 
'  Eloge '  on  Adrienne,  has  not  drawn  on  his  own  imagi- 
nation for  the  picture  which  he  gives  of  her  '  discover- 
ing the  hero  and  endeavouring  to  polish  the  soldier.' 
'  She  brought  him  acquainted  with  our  language,  our 
liteniture,  and  inspired  him  with  the  taste  for  music, 
reading,  all  the  arts,  and  that  passion  for  the  theatre 
which  followed  him  even  to  the  camp.  We  may  say 
of  the  conqueror  of  Fontenoy  and  his  beautiful  in- 
structress, that  she  taught  him  everything  but  war, 
which  he  knew  better  than  anybody,  and  orthography, 
which  he  never  knew  at  all.'^ 

But  we  are  anticipating.  Some  years  are  yet  to 
elapse  before  we  find  our  hero  at  the  head  of 
armies,  and  some  intervening  passages  of  his  life 
are  too  important  to  be  passed  over,  although  there 
seems  no  necessity  for  accompanying  him  in  his 
frequent  journeys  between  Saxony  and  France.  Com- 
munity of  tastes  and  studies  had  brought  about  a  close 
intimacy  between  him  and  tlie  Chevaher  Folard  ;  and 
in  1732  he  followed  the  example  of  his  friend  by  be- 
coming a  military  author.  In  the  course  of  that  year, 
he  composed  the  work  entitled  '  Mes  Reveries.'  Two 
copies  of  what  passes  for  the  original  manuscript  are 
preserved  in  the  Eoyal  Library  at  Dresden,  and  the 

^  Verses  entitled  '  La  Mori  de  Mademoiselle  Lc  Couvreur,  cclehre 
Adrice.''     (Q:]uvres.) 

^  ^G^Aivres  de  Lemontey,^  1829.  Tome  iii.  p.  .320.  M,  Alexandre 
Dumas,  in  the  '  Confessions  de  la  Marquise,''  says  that  Adrienne  was 
poisoned  at  the  instigation  of  the  Duchess  of  Bouillon  from  jtalousy 
of  the  liaison  with  Saxo,  and  died  with  her  hand  in  his  and  her  head 
on  the  shoulder  of  Voltaire !  Those  who  reuienibcr  Iwicliel  in  the 
part  of  her  celebrated  prototype,  have  seen  a  greater  actress  tlian 
Adritmne. 

VOL.   I.  S 


258  MARSHAL    SAXE. 

concluding  words  arc  : — '  I  have  composed  this  work 
ill  tliirteeii  niglits.  I  was  ill,  so  it  may  well  show 
symptoms  of  fever  ;  that  ought  to  be  my  excuse.  As 
to  regularitj"  and  arrangement,  as  well  as  elegance 
of  style,  I  have  written  hke  a  soldier,  and  to  dissipate 
my  ennuis.     Done  in  tliis  month  of  December  1732.' 

The  most  conflicting  judgments  have  been  passed  on 
this  book.  Whilst  some  have  seen  in  it  the  masterpiece 
of  a  great  tactician,  others  have  treated  it  as  the  eccen- 
tric production  of  a  powerful  but  irregular  mind,  whose 
strength  lay  in  action  or  in  a  kind  of  intuition  luider 
the  pressure  of  emergencies,  not  in  calm  analysis  or 
scientific  exposition.  The  book,  however,  has  great 
merits,  and  is  especially  remarkable  for  the  clearness 
and  good  sense  with  which  it  draws  the  line  between 
innovation  and  experience,  theory  and  practice,  in  the 
art  of  war ;  an  art  which  it  had  been,  perhaps  is,  the 
fashion  to  regard  as  only  capable  of  being  taught  (if  of 
being  taught  at  all)  empirically.  '  All  the  other 
sciences,'  he  exclaims,  '  have  rules  and  principles :  war 
alone  has  none.'  Tiiis  is  true  only  in  a  limited  sense 
— that  it  has  few,  if  any,  received  as  axioms  ;  and  most 
of  those  who  have  shone  pre-eminent  in  it  have  sub- 
mitted to  a  steady  course  of  professional  instruction. 
'  Conde,'  says  Eetz,  '  is  born  a  captain  ;  which  never 
happened  but  to  him,  Spinola,  and  Caesar.'  Yet 
Conde  was  an  assiduous  reader  of  military  books,  and 
Csesar  is  surely  an  ill-chosen  example  of  a  born  captain. 
One  of  the  most  ardent  students  of  the  art  of  war  that 
ever  lived  was  Napoleon.^ 

We  must  not  forget  to  state  that,  shortly  before  the 
composition  of  the  '  Eeveries,'  Maurice  made  tiie  ac- 

'  *  In  this  great  art  of  commanding  armies  in  war,  science  comes  not 
little  by  little,  but  all  at  once.  Tbe  moment  one  sets  about  it,  one  knows 
from  the  first  all  that  there  is  to  know.  A  young  prince  of  eighteen 
nriives  from  the  Court  by  post,  offers  battle,  wills,  and  then  he  is  a  groat 
captain  for  life,  and  the  greatest  captain  in   the  world.'  — iVrw/  Louis 

Colli  III'. 


MARSHAL   S.VXE.  259 

quaintanca  of  Frederic  the  Great,  then  Crown  rriiice 
of  Prussia,  an  acquaintance  which  soon  ripened  into 
admiration  and  esteem  on  both  sides.  Each  invariably 
mentions  the  other  as  one  of  the  most  consummate 
tacticians  of  the  age.  A  general  worthy  to  rank  not 
far  below  them,  the  Marshal  Duke  of  Berwick,  had  a 
similar  prescience  of  Saxe's  military  capacity  whilst 
still  untried  on  a  fitting  arena.  On  his  arrival  in  the 
camp  before  the  lines  of  Ettling,  he  was  received  by 
Berwick  with  these  words ;  '  I  was  about  to  send  for 
3,000  men,  but  you  are  as  valuable  to  me  as  such  a 
reinforcement.'  He  amply  justified  this  commander's 
confidence.  At  a  critical  moment  he  put  himself  at 
the  head  of  100  grenadiers,  attacked  a  troop  of  hussars, 
and  killed  their  commandant  with  his  own  hand,  after 
receiving  a  sabre-cut  on  the  head,  which  was  fortunately 
blunted  or  turned  aside  by  the  iron  guard  of  his  hat. 
It  was  at  the  end  of  this  campaign,  in  which  he  served 
under  the  Due  de  Noailles,  that  he  wrote  to  the  Minister 
of  War  in  tlie  proud  tone  of  conscious  superiority  : — 

'  Prince  Eugene  is  put  to  flight,  and  all  yields  to  the  glory 
of  your  arms.  It  is  I  who  have  cleared  the  way  for  it :  it  is 
I  who  have  found  means  of  penetrating  into  inaccessible 
places,  who  have  disposed  the  troops,  who  have  attacked,^ 
led,  and  conquered  at  the  head  of  your  grenadiers,  exposing 
myself  to  dangers  which  still  make  those  who  were  witnesses 
of  them  tremble.  It  is  fourteen  years  since  I  have  had  the 
honour  of  being  in  the  service  of  tlie  King  as  marechal-de- 
camp :  I  am  now  nearly  forty,  and  I  am  not  of  a  sort  to  be 
subjected  to  rules  or  to  grow  old  to  reach  steps  of  pro- 
motion.' 

He  was  made  Lieutenant-General  in  the  French 
army  in  August  1734,  and  on  the  strengtli  of  this  pro- 
motion declined  an  offer  made  througli  the  Prince  of 
Lichtenstein  to  join  the  Austrian  service  and  rely  for 
rapid  advancement  on  the  friendly  offices  of  Prince 
Eugene.      His  patriotism  ha,s  been  called  in   question 

s  2 


2G0  MAUSIIAr.    SAXE. 

for  serving  against  his  countrymen,  but  lie  never  actu- 
ally fought  against  Saxony,  which  alone  can  be  regarded 
as  his  native  country.  There  was  not  even  a  talk  of  a 
fatherland  in  those  days,  and  adventurers  of  his  stamp 
— Eugene  and  Ber^vick,  for  example — troubled  them- 
selves little  under  what  standard  they  led  or  served. 
It  nuist  also  be  remembered  that  in  1741  he  ■s\Tote  to 
the  Count  de  Bruhl,  then  Prime  Minister  of  Saxony,  to 
offer  to  take  the  connuand  of  the  Saxon  army  in  the 
then  probable  contingency  of  its  being  actively  engaged, 
and  received  for  answer,  after  six  weeks'  delay,  that  the 
command  had  been  promised  to  the  Duke  of  Weissenfels. 
He  lay  under  one  marked  disadvantage  in  France,  which 
he  might  partially  have  escaped  in  Germany.  The 
princes  of  the  blo(xl  and  the  great  nobles  were  jealous 
of  him,  and  he  was  not  made  a  Marshal,  or  trusted 
with  the  command-in-chief  of  an  army,  until  the  proved 
incapacity  of  those  placed  over  him  seriously  threatened 
discomfiture  and  disgrace.  They  were  constantly  de- 
preciating him.  Thus  the  son  of  the  Due  de  Lujmes 
writes  to  his  father: — 'The  Count  de  Saxe  leads  the 
French  without  precaution  or  detail  and  a  la  Tartare  ; 
yet  he  is  the  one  above  all  others  who  aims  most  at 
what  is  great.' 

The  taking  of  Prague  was  an  exploit  which  put 
detraction  to  shame  and  fixed  his  reputation  on  a  firm 
footing.  It  was  taken  by  a  niglit  attack  planned  by 
him  after  personally  reconnoitring  the  defences  of  the 
place  by  creeping  along  the  ditch.  Near  the  pi-incipal 
gate  Avas  a  bastion  thirty-five  feet  high,  and  oppc^site  to 
it  on  the  outside  a  kind  of  mound,  formed  of  the  diit 
and  rubbish  of  the  town.  Whilst  the  bastion  was 
scaled  by  the  grenadiers,  he  was  to  post  himself  with 
troops  on  this  mound  to  attract  the  fire  of  the  garrison  ; 
and  tlic  drawbridge  was  to  be  simultaneously  assailed, 
over  wliicli   the   di'agoons,  which  constituted  the  chief 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  2G1 

l);irt  of  liis  force,  were  to  rii,s]i  as  soon  as  tlie  way  was 
open.      The  success  was  complete,  althoiigli  some  of 
the  scahng  ladders  broke  from  the  number  of  men  who 
crowded  on  them  at  once.     A  company  of  grenadiers 
was  on  the  rampart  before  their  approach  was  discerned, 
and  they  were  rapidly  reinforced.      The  di'awb ridge 
was  lowered,  and  Saxe,  galloping  in  at  the  head  of  his 
cavalry,  reached  the  bridge  which  divides  the  town  in 
two.     It  was  barricaded  and  defended  by  cannon  and 
infantry ;  but  the  officer  in  command,  finding  that  the 
Saxons  had  entered  the  other  part  of  the  city  and  that 
he  was  about  to  be  placed  between  two  fires,  laid  down 
his  arms.       These  particulars  are  taken  from  one  of 
Saxe's  letters  to  the  Chevalier  de   Folard,  endin<»-  tlius  : 
— '  It  (Prague)  was  taken  the  same  day  on  which  my 
grandfather  took  it  in  1640,  and  furnishes  the  first 
instance  of  a  town  being  carried  in  the  night-time,  and 
sword  in  hand,  by  the  French  without  being  plundered.' 
In  the   coiu'se  of  the  following  month  he  signally 
retrieved  the  honour  of  the  French  arms  by  rallying  a 
body  of  intantry  and  cavahy  which  had  i3een  driven 
back  in  confusion  by  the  Austrian  rearguard.    After  this 
exploit,  for  which  he  was  publicly  thanked  by  the  Due 
de  Broglie,  he  repaired  to  Dresden,  where  Frederic  the 
Great  arrived  soon  afterwards  in  the  hope  of  persuading 
the  King  (Maurice's  half-brother)  to  a  more  active  co- 
operation in  the  war.      Frederic  Augustus  was  as  fond 
of  pleasure   as  his   father,  and   Bruld,   who  inclined 
towards  Austria  and  dreaded  Prussian  aggrandisement, 
calculated  on  preventing  serious  conversation  by  a  giimd 
dinner,  opera,  and  ball.     The  dangerous  topic  was  in- 
troduced in  Maurice's  presence,  whilst  the  royal  party 
were  yet  at  table,  when  Bridil  announced  that  the  opera 
had  begun.     '  Ten  Idngdoms  to  conquer,'  says  Frederic, 
'  would  not  have  detained  the  King  of  Poland  a  minute 
longCL-.      To  the  opera  they  went,  and  the  King  (of 


262  MARSrE<\{.    SAXE. 

Prussia)  obtained,  despite  of  all  oj^ponents,  a  fiual 
resolution.'  ^  A  Saxon  corps  was  attached  to  the  Prus- 
sian anny,  find  was  so  roughly  handled  within  a  month 
of  its  junction  that  Maurice,  then  with  Frederic  and 
doubtless  remembering  Bruhl's  refusal  of  the  command, 
sent  him  the  following  laconic  billet  by  way  of  de- 
spatch : — 

'Jig-elan  (Iglan),  le  19  Fevr.  1742. 
'Vous  n'livez  plus  d'armee. 

'  Maurice  de  Saxe.' 

On  his  return  to  the  French  army  he  was  directed 
to  take  the  direction  of  the  siege  of  Egra,  which, 
strong  as  it  was,  was  surrendered  to  him  without  a 
blow  after  all  his  dispositions  for  an  assault  were  com- 
plete. His  name  sufficed  to  paralyse  the  commander 
and  the  garrison,  and  the  credit  accruing  from  the 
exploit  was  not  diminished  by  their  faint-heartedness. 
The  Emperor  Charles  VII.  caused  a  Te  Deiun  to  be 
sung  in  Frankfort  to  celebrate  the  event,  and  wrote  to 
him  :  '  Why  can't  you  be  everywhere  ?' 

Egra  was  taken  on  the  19th  April,  1742,  and  on  the 
1st  of  May  Maurice  had  abandoned  the  field  of  his 
rapidly  culminating  reputation,  and  was  on  his  way  to 
St.  Petersburg  through  Dresden.  The  ducal  crown, 
which  still  retained  all  its  pristine  attractions  for  him, 
had  been  again  trailed  across  his  path.  Eager  as  he  was 
to  try  his  hand  at  governing,  he  must  have  been  deeply 
mortified  at  finding  that  he  had  actually  missed  two 
golden  op[)ortunities ;  that  either  of  the  two  princesses, 
to  whom  his  vagrant  and  vacillating  addresses  had 
been  paid,  could  and  [)r()bably  would  have  grati- 
fied his  highest  ambition,  had  he  wooed  her  as  she 
may  well  have  expected  to  be  wooed,  had  he  paid  her 
the  common  coni[)liment  of  a  semblance  of  devotion 
and  lidehty.     Anna,  on  her  accession  to  the  imperial 

•  *  (Enircs  poslhnmcs,'  vol.  i.  p.  320.  Dr.  von  Wfljor  udds  that  tho 
opera  was  I'tijntiu. 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  2C3 

throne  in  1730,  had  neither  scruple  nor  difTicuUy  in 
giving  Courland  to  her  favourite,  the  Due  de  Biren,  by- 
birth  a  Courland  peasant.  On  her  death  in  1740, 
Biren  became  regent  during  the  minority  of  lier  great- 
nephew,  but  was  displaced  by  a  conspiracy  planned 
and  executed  by  the  mother  of  the  infant  Czar  in 
November  1741 ;  whose  supremacy  lasted  rather  more 
than  a  year,  during  which  she  caused  her  brother-in- 
law,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  to  be  elected  Duke  of 
Courland.  On  the  Gth  of  December  1741,  another 
conspiracy  broke  out,  resulting  in  the  expulsion  of  the 
regent,  the  dethronement  of  her  son,  and  the  accession 
of  the  Princess  Elizabeth.  The  Duke  of  Brunswick 
fell  with  his  patroness,  and  Courland  was  once  again 
at  the  disposal  of  Eussia ;  Poland  not  being  strong 
enough  to  lay  hands  on  it. 

Maurice  had  a  powerful  friend  at  the  court  of  the 
new  Czarina  in  the  French  Ambassador,  the  Marquis 
de  la  Chetardie,  who  thought  that  her  youthful  prefer- 
ence would  revive  and  plead  powerfully  for  him.  La 
Chetardie  w\as  renowned  for  the  splendour  of  his 
entertainments,  and  the  very  evening  of  Maurice's 
arrival  he  gave  a  magnificent  supper  to  introduce  him 
to  the  most  considerable  persons  of  the  court.  The 
next  morning  he  was  presented  to  the  Czarina,  who,  %t 
a  masked  ball  the  same  evening,  danced  the  second 
contredanse  with  him.  Tlie  next  day  but  one  La 
Chetardie  gave  a  dinner  in  his  honour,  to  which  she 
came  in  man's  clothes,  and  remained  a  large  part  of 
the  evening.  A  series  of  festivities  ensued,  some  of 
them  strikingly  characteristic  of  the  period  and  the 
place.  On  the  18th  June,  the  Chamberlain  Woron- 
zow  gave  a  dinner  which  was  prolonged  till  nine  in  the 
evening  ;  then  the  whole  party  mounted  on  horseback 
to  accompany  the  Czarina,  who  rode  through  the 
illuminated  streets  in  a  riding-habit.  A  terrible 
rain   was  pouring  down,   but  no  one  wore  a  cloak. 


204  MARSHAL    SAXE. 

Towards  midniglit  tlie  party,  wetted  to  the  skin,  paid  a 
short  visit  to  the  KremUii,  wliere  slie  showed  the  Count 
the  coronation  ornaments  and  other  state  jewels. 
Then  they  mounted  again  to  ride  to  La  Clietardie's 
palace,  in  front  of  which  was  a  magnificently  illumi- 
nated fancy  building  with  two  fountains  of  red  and 
Avhite  wine.  Here  a  grand  supper  was  served,  and  '  it 
was  nearly  six  in  tlie  morning,'  \\Tites  a  guest,  '  when 
her  Majesty,  putting  the  sun  to  shame  by  her  beauty, 
retired  highty  pleased.'  Another  week  was  spent  in 
the  same  manner,  and  then  Maurice  got  for  answer, 
conununicated  through  the  Chancellor,  that  the  Czarina, 
anxious  that  the  Courlanders  should  retain  their 
ancient  rights,  could  not  interfere  in  his  favour, 
akhough  she  would  not  act  against  him. 

The  sole  advantage  he  gained  by  the  journey  was 
the  sense  of  his  value  produced  by  his  absence,  during 
which  the  French  army  underwent  a  series  of  re- 
verses. Soon  after  his  rejoining  it,  Comit  Ponia- 
towski  -smtes  : — '  I  have  never  seen  an  army  so  badly 
managed  as  this  :  if  the  Count  de  Saxe,  who  is  obliged 
to  think  of  everything,  were  taken  from  us,  I  do  not 
know  what  would  become  of  us.'  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  campaign,  an  apartment  in  Versailles  was  as- 
signed to  him,  and  the  King  held  long  consultations 
with  him  in  the  presence  of  D'Ai^genson,  the  Minister 
of  War.  The  first  time  he  went  to  the  theatre  at 
Paris  he  was  received  with  acclamations.  Yet  neither 
]X)pular  nor  royal  favour  could  overcome  tlie  corrupt 
infiuences  about  the  court.  After  a  high  command 
had  actually  been  assigned  to  him,  D'Argenson, 
trembling  for  his  place,  was  induced  to  give  it  to  the 
Prince  de  Conti.  '  That,' wrote  the  Saxon  minister, 
'is  llie  secret  motive  which  has  actuated  M.  d'Argen- 
son.  Such  at  present  is  tlio  situation  of  the  Court  of 
France.' 

The  managcmenl  of  a  hazardous   enterpiise,  ]-cquir- 


MARSHAL   S.VXE.  2G5 

ing  extraordinary  capacity  and  interfering  willi  no 
conventional  claims,  could  be  confided  to  liini  witliout 
exciting  jealousy.  Accordingly  he  ^vas  named  to  the 
command  of  the  troops  (10,000)  which  were  to 
accompany  Charles  Edward  in  1744  on  his  meditated 
descent  in  England.  A  storm  interrupted  the  dis- 
embarcation  :  the  wind  (as  the  Count  remarked)  was 
decidedly  not  Jacobite  :  the  English  fleet  hove  in  sight, 
and  the  expedition  was  eventually  abandoned.  The 
King,  warmly  pressed  by  Broglie  and  Noailles,  took 
advantage  of  this  occasion  to  confer  the  long-delayed 
baton  of  Marshal,  with  the  reservation  of  a  privilege 
or  two,  not  affecting  the  military  grade,  on  account  of 
his  religion,  which,  it  is  said,  he  would  willingly  have 
changed  could  he  have  done  so  witliout  the  suspicion 
of  an  interested  motive.  In  the  ensuing  campaign  he 
commanded  the  covering  army,  whilst  the  main  army, 
nominally  under  the  King  in  person  and  really  under 
Noailles,  undertook  the  siege  of  several  strong  places. 
The  campaign  was  prosperous,  although  not  marked 
by  any  signal  success,  and  Voltaire,  referring  to  the 
new  Marshal's  share  in  it,  says  : — 

'To  encamp  and  decamp  apropos,  to  cover  his  country,  to 
subsist  his  army  at  the  expense  of  the  enemy,  to  advance  to 
their  ground  when  they  were  on  the  country  to  be  defended 
and  force  them  to  retrace  their  steps — to  render  strength 
useless  by  skill — this  is  what  is  regarded  as  one  of  the 
masterpieces  of  the  military  art,  and  this  is  what  ]\Iarshal 
Saxe  did  from  the  beginning  of  August  till  November 
(1744).' 

When  the  time  approached  for  opening  the  campaign 
of  1745,  the  campaign  of  Fontenoy,  the  national  call 
for  Marshal  Saxe  was  as  loud  and  unanimous  as  that 
for  Sir  Charles  Napier  after  tlie  disaster  of  Cabul,  or 
for  Lord  Clyde  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  Indian 
mutiny,  but  his  health  excited  the  most  lively  ap- 
prehensions.     '  So  high   an  idea,'  wTote    the   Saxon 


206  MARSHAL    S.VXE. 

minister,  '  is  eutertaiued  of  the  capacity  and  experience 
of  the  Marshal,  that  people  are  generally  convinced 
that  the  loss  of  this  general  would  be  a  misfortune  for 
France  in  the  present  circumstances,  as  she  has  scarcely 
any  capable  of  replacing  him  amongst  the  quantity  of 
general  officers  with  whom  the  kino-dom  swarms.' 
He  showed  symptoms  of  dropsy,  and  when,  on  his 
preparing  to  start  for  Flanders,  Voltaire  asked  him 
how  he  could  set  out  in  such  a  state  of  weakness,  he 
made  the  memorable  reply  :  '  II  ne  s'agit  pas  de  vivre, 
mais  de  partir.'  Yet  such  was  his  want  of  self- 
restraint  that  an  entire  coach-load  of  loose  women,  as 
usual,  formed  part  of  his  equipage  ;  and  his  physician, 
Senac,  was  diiven  to  the  strange  expedient  of  getting 
sentinels  placed  round  his  quarters,  with  strict  orders 
to  deny  admission  to  all  persons  of  the  female  sex. 
lie  was  tapped  soon  after  his  arrival  in  camp,  and, 
being  too  ill  to  mount  on  horseback,  was  obliged  to  be 
carried  about  in  a  carriage  of  basket-work,  in  which, 
surrounded  by  his  staff,  he  passed  the  night  preceding 
the  battle  of  Foutenoy. 

Marshal  Saxes  campaigns  and  battles  from  1745  to 
his  death  form  a  prominent  part  of  the  history  of 
Europe,  and  have  been  repeatedly  described  in  detail. 
But  his  share  in  the  glories  of  Fontenoy  has  been 
unduly  diminished  by  the  most  popular  writer  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  followed  by  the  most  eminent  of 
the  subsequent  historians  of  the  period.  Voltaire's 
account  is  that  the  English  were  carrying  all  before 
them  :  that  charge  after  charge  had  been  tried  in  vain : 
that  the  battle  was  given  up  for  lost :  that  the  Marshal 
was  taking  measiu'cs  to  secure  the  retreat ;  and  that 
a  disorderly  council  was  held  in  the  King's  presence, 
^vho  was  adjured,  on  the  part  of  the  Marshal  and  in 
the  name  of  France,  not  to  expose  himself  furthei'. 
Tlie  historian  continues  in  these  words  : 

'Tlie   Due  dc  Kiclichcn,  Licuteiiant-Gencrul  and  servinjr 


M.\ESIIAL    SAXE.  2G7 

as  aide-de-camp  of  the  King,  came  up  at  this  moment.  He 
had  just  been  reconnoitring  the  English  column  near  Foute- 
noy.  Having  thus  gone  to  every  side  without  being  wounded, 
he  presents  himself  out  of  breath,  sword  in  hand,  and  covered 
with  dust.  "What  news  do  you  bring  us?"  said  the  Mar- 
shal: "What  do  you  advise  ?"  "My  news,"  said  the  Due, 
"  is  that  the  battle  is  gained  if  you  choose  ;  and  my  advice  is 
that  you  instantly  bring  four  gvms  to  bear  on  the  front  of 
the  column  ;  whilst  this  artillery  is  shaking  it,  the  House- 
hold {Maison  du  Roi)  and  the  other  troops  will  surround  it: 
we  must  fall  upon  them  comme  des  fourageurs."  The  King 
was  the  first  who  assented  to  this  idea.  Twenty  persons  set 
off.  The  Due  de  Pequigny,  afterwards  Due  de  Chaulnes, 
goes  to  direct  the  pointing  of  tlie  four  guns:  they  are  placed 
opposite  the  English  column.  The  Due  de  Richelieu  gallops 
on  the  part  of  the  King  to  put  the  household  troops  in 
motion.  Prince  de  Souhise  gets  together  his  gendarmes  ; 
the  Due  de  Chaulnes  his  light  horse ;  all  form  and  march, 
&c.' 

Mr.  Carlyle,  after  describing  tlie  irresistible  advance 
of  the  British  column,  continues  : 

'  In  fact,  the  battle  now  hangs  upon  a  hair ;  the  battle  is 
as  good  as  lost,  thinks  Marechal  de  Saxe.  His  battle  lines 
torn  in  two  in  tliat  manner,  hovering  in  ragged  clouds  over 
the  field,  what  hope  is  there  in  the  battle  ?  Fontenoy  is 
firing  blank,  this  some  time :  its  cannon  balls  dihe. 
Officers  in  Antoine  are  about  withdrawing  the  artillery, — 
then  again  (a  new  order)  replacing  it  awhile.  All  are  look- 
ing towards  the  Scheld  bridge,  earnestly  entreating  His 
Majesty  to  withdraw.  *  *  *  * 

JMean while  the  French  clouds  are  reassembling  a  little : 
Eoyal  Highness  (the  Duke  of  Cumberland)  too,  is  readjust- 
ing himself,  now  got  300  yards  ahead  of  Fontenoy — pauses 
there  about  half  an  hour,  not  seeing  his  way  farther.  Duiing 
which  pause.  Due  de  Richelieu,  famous  blackguard  man, 
gallops  rapidly  from  ]Marechal  to  King,  suggesting,  were 
cannon  brought  ahead  of  this  close  deep  column,  might  they 
not  shear  it  into  beautiful  destruction,  and  then  a  general 
charge  be  made  ?  So  counselled  Richelieu :  it  is  said  the 
Jacobite  Irishman,  Count  Lally,  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  was 


2ijS  MARSHAL    SAXE. 

prime  author  of  this  notion — a  man  of  tragic  notoriety  in 
time  comiufi:.  Whoever  was  the  author  of  it,  Mareehal  de 
Saxe  adopts  it  eagerly,  King  Louis  eagerly :  swift  it  be- 
comes a  fact.  Universal  rally,  universal  simultaueous 
charge  on  both  flanks  of  the  terrible  column  :  this  it  might 
resist,  as  it  has  done  these  two  hours  past ;  but  cannon 
ahead.'  ^ 

According  to  Voltaire,  the  Due  de  Biron  took  upon 
liimself  the  responsibility  of  countermanding  the  Mar- 
slial's  order  to  the  right  wing  to  withdraw  for  the  pur- 
pose of  covering  the  retreat ;  and,  in  fact,  if  these 
versions  are  to  be  credited,  Saxe  had  about  as 
nuich  to  do  with  the  movements  which  decided  the 
day  as  Marshal  Beresford  with  tlie  victorious  advance 
of  the  Fusiher  Brigade  at  Albuera.  Prose  was  deemed 
too  weak  to  pay  a  fitting  tribute  to  Pdchelieu  :  his 
alleged  exploit  is  embalmed  by  the  same  pen  in  poetry  : 

'  Je  ne  veux  pas  que  Tunivers 
Yous  croie  uu  grave  persouuage 
Apres  ce  jom-  de  Foutenoi ; 
Ou,  convert  de  sang  et  de  poudre, 
On  vous  vit  ramener  la  foudre 
Et  la  victoire  a  votre  roi.'^ 

After  describino;  the  defeat  of  the  En<i;lish  column, 
which  he  greatly  exaggerates,  for  it  retired  in  order, 
Voltaire  adds  : 

*  In  the  middle  of  this  triumph  the  Marshal  liad  himself 
carried  to  the  King:  he  liad  just  strength  enough  to  em- 
brace his  knees  and  to  utter  tliese  precise  words  :  "  Sire,  I 
have  lived  long  enough :  I  wished  to  live  out  this  day  to 
see  your  Majeaty  victorious.  You  see  on  what  battles  liaug." 
The  King  raised  him  and  embraced  him  tenderly.  He  (the 
Marshal)  told  the  Due  de  Richelieu,  "  I  shall  never  forget 
the  imjDortant  service  you  have  done  me."  He  spoKe  in  the 
same  manner  to  the  Due  de  Biron.     He  (Saxe)  told  the  King, 

1  '  History  of  Frederick  the  Great,'  vol.  iv.  p.  121.  Earl  Stanhope 
takes  the  same  view  of  the  battle  at  its  turning-point.  ^  Ilislunj  of 
Eaijluwl  from  the  Peace  of  Utrecht,'  vol.  iii.  p.  293. 

'^  In  Voltaire's  '  Poe.ne  de  Fo.dcHoi//  also,  tiie  Uuc  de  Ificlielieii  is 
the  liero  of  tlie  day. 


M.VRSIIAL    SAXK.  209 

"  Sire,  I  must  reproacli  myself  with  one  fault.  I  hlioiiid 
have  placed  another  redoubt  between  the  wood  of  Barri  and 
Fonteuoy ;  but  I  did  not  believe  that  there  were  generals 
bold  enough  to  risk  the  passage  at  this  point." ' 

The  essential  part  of  the  statement  rests  on  a  letter 
from  the  Marquis  cl'Argenson  to  Voltaire  the  day  after 
the  battle  : 

'  Your  friend,  M.  de  Richelieu,  is  a  genuine  Bayard:  it  is 
he  who  gave  and  executed  the  counsel  to  attack  the  infantry 
comme  chasseurs  on  comme  des  fourageurs,  pell-mell,  hand 
down,  the  arm  shortened,  masters,  valets,  officers,  cavalry, 
infantry,  all  together.  This  French  vivacity,  of  which  so 
much  is  said,  nothing  resists  it :  it  was  the  affair  of  ten 
minutes  to  gain  the  battle  by  this  botte  secrete.'' 

Nothing  is  said  of  the  four  guns,  and  the  credit  of 
telling  where  they  were  when  the  Marshal  was  looking 
about  for  artillery  (not  of  suggesting  their  use)  is  due 
to  a  subaltern. 

Now  the  battle  was  fought  on  the  lltli  of  May  (Xew 
Style),  and  a  full  official  accoiuit  of  it  is  contained  in  a 
despatch  from  the  Marshal  himself,  dated  Camp  before 
Tournay,  May  13th,  to  the  Minister  of  War.  From 
this  it  appears  that  all  "fell  out  very  nearly  as  he  had 
anticipated  :  that  the  victory  was  the  result  of  a  pre- 
conceived plan  :  that  he  never  despaired  of  the  result  ; 
and  that  all  the  decisive  movements  were  in  pursuance 
of  his  personal  orders  adapted  to  the  emergency. 
The  notion  that  he  adopted  as  a  happy  hit  the  alleged 
suf^gestion  of  Eiclielieu  to  attack  like  foragers  or 
sportsmen — that  is,  without  regard  to  order — is  pre- 
posterous. His  distinct  directions  to  the  troops  prepa- 
ratory to  the  grand  effort  were  to  charge  together  and 
charge  home  : 

'  Seeing  our  infantry  (thus  runs  the  dcspatcli),  the  house- 
liold  [Maison  du  Roi),  the  carabiniers,  and  a  great  j^art  of 
the  cavalry,  much  discomfited  by  tlie  different  charges  tliey 
had  made  uselessly  against  this  English  infantry,  I  went  to 


270  MAESIIAL    S.VXE. 

look  for  the  carabiniers,  and  told  them  that  they  must  make 
a  last  effort,  that  the  preceding  charges  had  not  succeeded 
because  they  had  advanced  with  too  much  vivacity,  and  had 
not  given  time  to  the  different  reserves  that  I  had  on  my 
left  to  reach  this  closely-formed  battalion,  which  gave  the 
English  time  to  repulse  one  attack  after  the  other  ;  and  that 
it  was  necessary  to  make  the  effort  at  the  same  time.  Mon- 
seigneur  the  Dauphin  asked  my  permission  to  charge  at  the 
head  of  the  household.  Judge,  Sir,  of  the  uneasiness  such  a 
presence  may  occasion  a  general.  In  short,  everything  suc- 
ceeded beyond  our  hopes.' 

The  most  vivid  pictiu^e  of  the  charge  is  given  by 
Espagmic : 

'  Marshal  Saxe  had  ordered  that  the  cavalry  should  touch 
the  English  with  the  breasts  of  their  horses  :  he  was  well 
obeyed.  The  officers  of  the  chamber  charged  pell-mell  with 
the  guards  and  the  mousquetaires  ;  the  King's  pages  were 
there  sword  in  hand ;  there  was  so  exact  an  equality  of 
time  and  courage,  so  unanimous  an  impression  of  the  checks 
they  had  received, — :S0  perfect  a  concert, — the  cavalry  sabre 
in  hand,  the  infantry  with  bayonets  fixed, — that  the  English 
column  was  shattered  to  pieces  and  disappeared.' 

When  it  is  asked  why  the  prior  isolated  charges 
were  permitted,  Espagnac,  who  was  present  and  in  the 
Marshal's  confidence,  is  ready  with  the  reply  : — 

'  So  long  as  the  enemy  had  not  taken  Fontenoy  or  the 
redoubt,  his  successes  in  the  centre  were  disadvantageous, 
being  without  a  point  of  support.  The  further  he  advanced, 
tlie  more  he  exposed  his  troops  to  be  taken  in  flank  by  the 
French  he  left  behind.  It  was  then  essential  to  restrain  him 
by  repeated  charges ;  too  feeble,  it  is  true,  to  promise  a 
great  effect,  but  gaining  time  for  the  disposition  of  the 
general  attack  on  which  tlie  victory  depended.' 

Espngiiac  also  states  that  the  Count  de  Loewendal, 
who  held  an  important  command,  rode  up  to  Saxe  at 
the  critical  moment,  and,  comprehending  the  plan  and 
situation  at  a  glance,  exclaimed  :  '  This  is  a  grand  day 
i'ov   tlie   King,'  Marshal :  those   fellows  there    cannot 


M.UISIIAL    SAXE,  271 

escape  him.'  The  Marshal  |)robably  never  calculated 
on  the  firmness  and  dogged  intrepidity  with  which  the 
English,  denuded  of  support  by  the  backwardness  of 
the  Austrians  and  Dutch,  pushed  forward  to  a  position 
not  much  unlike  that  of  the  light  cavalry  brigade  at 
Balaclava ;  and  lie  had  just  ground  for  apprehension 
lest  a  panic  shoidd  seize  the  officers  or  courtiers  about 
the  King ;  whom,  for  this  reason,  he  was  most  anxious 
to  remove.  According  to  Loss,  the  Saxon  minister, 
who  had  his  information  fresh  from  the  fountain-head, 
the  Due  de  Noailles,  commander-in-chief  in  the  cam- 
paigns of  1743  and  1744,  elicited  a  sharp  expression 
of  impatience  from  Saxe  by  speaking  of  the  battle  as 
lost ;  and  the  Due  de  Biron's  interference  obviously 
arose  from  a  misunderstanding  of  the  plan.  We  know, 
at  all  events,  that  a  change  in  the  position  of  some 
troops  led  to  a  murmured  exclamation  amongst  the 
royal  suite  :  '  The  Marshal  is  ill ;  his  health  is  failing  ; 
liis  brain  is  getting  confused.'  Louis  went  straight  to 
him,  and  in  a  loud  clear  voice  addressed  him  thus  : — 
'  Marshal,  when  I  confided  to  you  the  command  of  my 
army,  I  meant  that  every  one  should  obey  you ;  I  will 
be  the  first  to  set  the  example.' 

The  Marshal,  speaking  of  the  King,  says  in  his  de- 
spatch : — 

'  He  did  not  disturb  my  operations  by  any  order  opposed 
to  mine,  which  is  what  is  most  to  be  feared  from  the  pre- 
sence of  a  monarch  surrounded  by  a  court,  which  often  sees 
tilings  differently  from  w^hat  they  are.  In  short,  the  King 
was  present  during  the  whole  affair  and  never  wished  to 
retire,  althougli  many  opinions  were  for  that  course  during 
the  whole  of  the  action.' 

To  this  may  be  added  the  conclusive  testhnony  of 
the  King's  private  letter  to  Cardinal  Teiicin,  a  copy  of 
which  was  sent  to  Dresden  l)y  Loss  : 

'  We  owe  the  victory  we  have  just  gained  to  the  good  dis- 
positions of  tlie  ]Mars]ial  de  Saxe.    He  has  taiiglit  us  valuable 


272  M.VRSIIAL    SAXE. 

lessons,  if  we  are  willing  to  profit  by  them,  but  I  fear  he 
will  not  be  our  teacher  long,  if  he  remains  in  his  present 
state.  It  would  be  an  irreparable  loss  for  us,  which  I  should 
sustain  with  regret,  above  all  because  I  should  not  be  able 
to  reward  the  great  services  he  has  done  us.' 

He  was  blamed  for  not  turning  the  defeat  into  a 
rout,  and  it  appears  from  the  despatch  already  quoted, 
tlitit,  seeing  the  English  cavalry  advancing  to  support 
their  infantry,  he  halted  his  troops  a  hundred  paces 
from  his  battle-ground.  Ilis  very  words  are  :  '  As  we 
had  enough  of  it,  I  thought  only  of  restoring  order 
amongst  the  troops  engaged  in  the  charge.' 

The  battle  of  Fontenoy  decided  not  only  the  sur- 
render of  Tournay,  which  it  was  fought  to  relieve,  but 
that  of  Ghent,  Oudenarde,  Bruges,  Ostend.  Yet  this 
series  of  successes,  altliough  honours  and  rewards  were 
lavished  on  him,  did  not  protect  him  from  misrepre- 
sentation and  slander.  He  was  accused  of  playing  into 
tlio  hands  of  Austria  by  neglecting  Germany  for  the 
Low  Countries ;  and  his  old  rival,  the  Prince  de  Conti, 
succeeded  in  getthig  the  appointment  of  generalissimo 
over  his  head,  which  induced  Saxe  to  exclaim  to 
Valfons  :  ^  '  France  is  the  country  of  falsehood,  and 
gratitude  fov  services  performed  does  not  habitually 
reside  in  it.'  This  nomination,  fortunately  for  France, 
did  not  inc;lude  tlie  connnand  of  the  army  in  the  lield, 
Avhicli  was  continued  to  the  Marshal ;  and  in  the  cam- 
]);iign  of  1740  he  fought  and  won  the  battle  of  Eau- 
court.  The  first  announcement  of  his  intention  to 
fight  and  win  it  was  made  at  his  cani[)  tlieatre  the  day 
before ;  these  lines  Ijeing  sung  or  recited  by  way  of 
epilogue  : — 

'  Demaiii  l)ataille,  jnur  do  gloire. 
Que  dans  los  fastes  do  I'liistoire 
Tiioinplio  encoro  le  noiii  Frai)9ais, 
iJii^no  d'uternelle  mt^inoire.' 

'  'SDUi'cnira  du  Manjuis  de  Vulfons.  Paris  :  l8G0.  Valfons  was  on 
liis  stair  and  niucb  trusted  by  him. 


MARSHAL   SAXE.  *^73 

A  troop  of  actors  was  a  regular  part  of  liis  equi- 
page. Writing  to  the  director,  Favart,  he  says : — '  Do 
not  beheve  that  I  regard  it  as  a  simple  object  of 
amusement ;  it  enters  into  my  political  views,  and  into 
tlie  plan  of  my  military  operations.'  Favart  owed  liis 
appointment  to  his  wife,  a  handsome  woman,  who 
acted,  sang,  and  danced  to  admiration  ;  and  he  was  told 
his  services  were  no  longer  wanted  when  he  presumed 
to  join  his  illustrious  employer's  suite  without  her. 
Folio wdng  the  example  of  la  belle  Gahrielle  in  tliis 
respect,  Madame  Favart,  for  some  time  at  all  events, 
preferred  her  husband's  affection  and  her  reputation  to 
all  that  a  hero  and  conqueror  could  lay  at  her  feet,  and 
only  yielded  (if  she  did  yield)  to  measures  of  coercion, 
as  indefensible  as  those  which  Henry  IV.  was  not 
ashamed  to  employ  in  a  similar  dilemma.  She  was 
arrested  at  Luneville,  wdiere  she  had  come  to  meet 
Favart,  and  was  carried  to  the  Ursuline  convent,  where 
she  was  ■  detained  some  time,  and  then  exiled  to 
Issoudin.  The  Marshal  thre^v  the  blame  of  these  per- 
secutions upon  the  pious  people  of  the  Court ;  but  he 
alone,  as  the  object  of  them  had  good  grounds  for  be- 
lieving, was  the  cause.^ 

•  The  true  character  of  this  transaction  appears  from  a  publicat^n 
not  mentioned  by  Dr.  von  Weber,  entitled :  Ma/mscrit  trouve  a  la 
Ba4iUe  conccrnant  deux  Lettres-de- Cachet  Ideheea  contre  AladenioiseUe  de 
Chantilhj  et  M.  Favart,  par  le  Marechal  de  Suxe.  Paris:  1780.  The 
manuscript  is  a  report  addressed  to  the  Marshal  by  the  exempt  charged 
with  the  execution  of  the  lettres-de-cachet,  dated  March  'I'i,  1750, 
and  signed  with  his  name,  Meusnier.  The  pamphlet  also  contains  four  or 
live  letters  from  the  lady  to  the  Marshal,  with  his  replies,  during  tlie 
period  of  her  detention,  November  and  December  1749.  She  thanks 
him  for  past  kindness  and  liberality,  but  expresses  a  fixed  determination 
not  to  purchase  her  release  by  compliances  which  her  conscience  and 
religion  condemn.  lie  tells  her  in  worils  that  her  persecutors  are 
'  line  baiide  da  decots  que  Von  n'a  pas  voulu  me  nommer ; '  but  gives  her 
clearly  to  understand  that  she  hers.'lf  is  the  mistress  of  Jier  destiny. 
She  was  eventually  set  at  liberty  on  his  application,  and  she  was 
living  with  him  as  his  mistress  shortly  before  his  death. 

The  exempts  report  contains  a  description  of  her  which  does  not 
confirm  the  tradition  of  her  charms  • — '  Elle  est  agee  de  vingt-deux  a 
vingt-trois  ans,  petite,  malf^dte,  so("he,  les  cheveux  bruns,  le  nez  ocraso, 
VOL.  I.  T 


274  MAliSIIAL    SAXE. 

Before  winning  tlie  battle  of  Eaiicourt,  which  was 
not  followed  up,  he  had  added  Brussels  to  his  other  con- 
quests ;  and  it  was  on  his  way  from  this  city  to  Paris  that, 
passing  through  Peronne,  his  carriage  was  stopped  by 
the  custom-house  officers,  '  Que  faites-vous,  canaille  ?  ' 
exclaimed  their  chief;  'les  lauriers  sont-ils  contre- 
bande  ? ' 

Another  compliment  paid  him  about  this  time  w^as 
an  offer  of  a  seat  in  the  Academy,  which  he  had  tlie 
good  sense  to  refuse. 

The  third  act  in  the  bloody  trilogy  which  immortal- 
ises his  name  (to  borrow  the  expressions  of  a  French 
biographer)  was  tlie  battle  of  Lawfeld,  fought  on  the 
2nd  of  July,  1747,  where,  as  at  Fontenoy,  the  English 
bore  the  brunt  and  were  left  unsupported  by  their 
alHes.  The  village,  held  by  10,000  English  and 
Hanoverians,  was  the  key  of  the  position ;  and  when 
the  first  attack  of  the  French  was  repulsed,  the  Marshal 
turned  to  Yalfons  : — '  Well,  what  do  you  think  of 
this  ?  We  are  beginning  badly  ;  the  enemy  keeps  his 
ground.'  '  Monsieur  the  jMarshal,'  replied  Valfons, 
who  reports  the  colloquy,  '  you  were  dying  at  Fonte- 
noy, you  beat  them  ;  convalescent  at  Eaucourt,  they 
were  beaten  again ;  you  are  too  well  to-day  to  fail  in 
crushing  them.'  The  second  attack  being  equally  un- 
successful, the  Marshal  in  person  rallied  his  troops  for 
the  third,  and  led  them  to  within  twenty  paces  of  the 
village,  where  he  pointed  out  to  their  commander  the 
precise  point  where  they  were  to  break  in.  '  Both 
commanders,'  says  Earl  Stanhope,  '  showed  high  per- 
sonal gallantry  in  the  foremost  ranks  ;  the  Marshal 
being  once  nearly  taken  prisoner,  and  the  Duke  (of 
Cumberland)  also  once  mixed  up  with  a  squadron  of 

les  yeux  vifs,  la  peau  assez  blanche,  enjoii(5e  par  caprice,  minaudiore, 
fourbe  et  dissinuil(5e  :  die  chante  et  daiise  pa?sablemeiit  bieu.'  Her 
paternal  name  was  Cabaret  Durancoray,  and  it  is  doubted  whether  she 
wa."  married  to  J\vart. 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  2(0 

Frencli  liorse.'  Valfons  relates  tliat  when,  to^vards 
the  end  of  the  battle,  Saxe  was  about  to  order  a  charge 
of  cavalry,  he  found  at  the  head  of  the  first  squadron 
he  approached  a  pale,  thin  officer,  and  whispered  to 
Valfons,  with  a  laugh  :  '  Let  us  look  for  another  :  this 
one  will  brino;  us  bad  luck.'  The  next  was  a  stout, 
ruddy-fliced  man,  to  whom  Saxe  immediately  gave  the 
order,  crying  out,  '  Ah,  this  is  my  man  ! ' 

As  usual,  he  was  blamed  for  not  improving  the  vic- 
tory, and  with  justice,  for  Valfons  says  :  '  He  proved 
to  me  that,  not  wishing  to  j&nish  the  war,  he  ought 
only  to  gain  battles  by  halves.'  In  another  place  ho 
says  :  '  The  Marshal  was,  like  all  generals,  too  great  in 
time  of  war  to  desire  peace  and  secure  it  by  too  deci- 
sive successes.'  The  Duke  of  Marlborough  fell  under 
the  same  suspicion  ;  and  the  temptations  are  certainly 
great.  When  peace  was  signed  in  October,  1748,  the 
Marshal  dropped  from  military  governor  of  all  the 
conquered  places  in  the  Netherlands  with  10,000  louis- 
d'or  a  month,  and  commander-in-chief  of  a  victorious 
army,  into  a  retired  officer  on  a  pension  and  allow- 
ances. It  is  true  that  these  were  on  an  extraor- 
dinary scale  of  liberality,  enabling  him  to  maintain 
a  princely  hospitality  and  indulge  his  peculiar  fancies 
to  his  heart's  desire.  A  single  fete  which  he  gave  in 
honom'  of  the  Princess  de  Sens  at  Chambord  cost  him 
400,000  livres :  he  built  and  maintained  a  hospital  and 
a  theatre,  and  kept  two  tables,  one  of  eighty  and  one 
of  sixty  covers.  But  he  mourned  over  his  occupation 
gone,  he  longed  for  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  his 
glorious  trade  as  well  as  for  its  solid  perquisites,  and 
he  could  not  refrain  from  sighing  out,  '  Peace  is  con- 
cluded, and  we  are  about  to  fall  into  oblivion :  we  are 
like  cloaks ;  no  one  thinks  of  us  unless  when  it 
threatens  rain.' 

In  this  state  of  restlessness,  no  project  was  too  wild, 
provided  it  offered  a  fresh  field  of  action  on  a  grand 


276  M.\ESHAL   SAXE. 

scale.  At  one  time  lie  thought  of  improvhig  on  the 
design  of  the  Marquis  de  Laugalhere,  by  building  a 
tlirone  for  himself  in  Madagascar;  at  another,  of 
colonising  and  ruling  one  of  the  Antilles,  of  which  he 
ol)tained  a  gi'ant.  It  has  been  confidently  stated  that . 
he  was  by  turns  on  the  point  of  contesting  Corsica 
Avith  Kins  Theodore,  and  of  assembling?  the  Jews  of 
Central  America  with  the  view  of  becoming  their  king. 
The  year  before  his  death  he  petitioned  Louis  XV. 
(seemingly  mthout  result)  to  grant  him  tlie  appoint- 
ments, rank,  and  honoTU's  enjoyed  by  princes  of 
sovereign  houses -established  in  the  kingdom. 

The  manner  in  which  his  forced  leisure  was  occu- 
pied may  be  inferred  from  the  Marquis  d'Argenson's 
summary  of  his  tastes  :  '  II  n'aime  que  la  guerre,  le 
mecanisme  et  les  beautes  faciles.'  In  a  letter  to  his 
half-brother,  Augustus  the  Second,  he  s:iys :  '  II 
ne  faut  pas  se  conduire  dans  la  famille  avec  la 
dclicatesse  qu'on  a  avec  sa  maitresse :  il  faut  vouloir 
et  ordonner :  avec  sa  maitresse  Ton  ne  fait  que  sou- 
haiter.'  On  one  occasion,  when  he  w^nt  in  search 
of  adventures  to  a  masked  ball  at  the  opera,  he 
wore  the  Highland  costume :  '  Scrupideux  sur  I'lia- 
billcment  (writes  General  von  Fontenay),  il  n'avoit 
})oint  de  eulotte  :  c'est  un  lieu  ou  elle  est  souvent 
embarrassante.'  Madame  de  Pompadour  wrote 
to  him  aftei'  the  battle  of  Lawfeld  : — '  They  say, 
Marshal,  tiiat  in  the  middle  of  the  operations  and 
fatigues  of  war,  you  still  find  time  to  make  love.  I 
am  a  w^oman,  and  do  not  blame  3T)u  :  love  creates 
heroes  and  makes  them  sages'  When  she  was  seen 
walking  with  liim,  a  bystander  called  out,  '  Voila  I'epcH? 
du  Koi  ct  son  fourreau  ! '  In  whatever  sense  the  nwal 
favourite  meant  tlie  word  sarjes^  her  maxim  was  not 
applicable  to  licr  illustrious  friend,  whose  lo\-{'  (if  it 
deserved   tlu;  luiiiic)  impaired    both    his  reputation  and 


M.iRSIIAL    SAXK.  277 

his     constitution,    and     caused     or     accelerated     his 
death. 

One  of  his  later  liaisons  has  become  celebrated  by  its 
fruit.  From  his  daughter  by  an  opera-singer,  descends 
the  far-famed  Georges  Sand  (Madame  Dudevant),  who 
records  the  feet  in  her  '  History  of  my  Life.'  He  was 
endowed  by  nature  with  the  physical  advantages  of 
his  father,  whose  feats  of  streno-th  he  was  wont  to 
emidate ;  but  Madame  de  Pompadour  says  that,  in 
the  latter  years  of  his  life,  he  was  an  ambulatory 
corpse  (cadavre  ambulant)^  of  which  there  remained 
nothing  but  a  name.  In  a  letter,  after  his  death,  she 
says  :  '  II  entretenoit  des  fdles  qui  Font  tue,  et  c'est  une 
comedienne,  Mdlle.  Favart,  qui  lui  a  donne  le  coup 
de  grace.'  He  died  suddenly  of  inflammation  of  the 
bowels,  on  the  30th  November,  1750 ;  his  last  words, 
addressed  to  his  physician,  Senac,  being,  '  You  see,  my 
fiieud,  the  end  of  a  fine  dream ; '  or,  as  some  report, 
'  Doctor,  life  is  but  a  di'eam :  mine  has  been  fine,  but 
short.'  He  left  between  fifty  and  sixty  thousand 
pounds  sterling  to  be  divided  amongst  legatees, 
and  directed  that  his  body  should  be  buried  in 
lime  if  possible,  '  in  order  that  nothing  may  shortly 
remain  of  me  in  the  world  but  my  memoii'^ 
among   my  Mends.' 

More  than  one  striking  tribute  to  liis  memory  may 
be  found  in  the  writings  of  Voltaire,  who  dedicated  to 
him  the  '  Defense  du  Mondain.'  But  the  most  valu- 
able has  been  paid  by  a  more  competent  judge  of  such 
a  man, — by  Frederic  the  Great,  who  writes  in  July 
1749  : — 'I  have  seen  the  hero  of  France,  this  Saxon, 
this  Turenne  of  the  age  of  Louis  XV.  I  have  derived 
instruction  from  his  conversation,  not  in  the  French 
language,  but  in  the  art  of  war.  This  marshal  might 
be  the  professor  of  all  the  generals  of  Europe.'  Yet 
this  marshal,  l";ir  from    being    a    pedant    in    the  art, 


278  MAESHAL    SAXE. 

expressly  lays  down  that  iu  war  it  is  often  necessary 
to  act  by  inspiration :  '  if  we  were  always  obliged  to 
give  a  reason  for  adopting  one  course  rather  than 
another,  we  should  be  frequently  at  a  loss  :  circum- 
stances are  felt  better  than  they  are  explained,  and  if 
war  depends  on  inspiration  there  is  no  need  of 
troubling  the  oracle.'  Although  he  had  his  inspired 
moments  when  rules  were  disregarded  and  caution  set 
aside,  although  (so  to  speak)  he  finessed  boldly  on  occa- 
sions, he  never  exposed  his  arniiy  to  unnecessary  risks, 
and  in  the  act  of  advancing  always  provided  for  a  re- 
treat. Unlike  Napoleon  who  shrank  fi^om  no  sacrifice 
to  gain  his  point,  or  Mai'lborough  who  was  accused 
of  exposing  his  troops  with  a  view  to  the  sale  of  the 
vacant  commissions,  Marshal  Saxe  was  chary  of  the 
lives  of  his  men.  When  an  officer  of  rank  proposed 
an  expedition,  saying  it  would  cost  only  eighteen 
grenadiers,  he  replied  tartly,  '  Only  eighteen  gre- 
nadiers !  eighteen  lieutenant-generals,  if  you  like ! ' 
He  pointedly  remarked : — '  I  suspect  those  officers 
who  are  continually  asking  for  detachments  to  go 
against  the  enemy.  They  are  generally  like  an 
equestrian  statue  that  has  always  one  foot  lifted  up  to 
march  and  never  moves.' 

Although  he  enforced  the  strictest  discipline,  his  man- 
ners were  unconstrained  and  free.  Once,  when  white  neck- 
cloths were  the  prescribed  wear,  those  worn  by  his  army 
at  a  review  had  nothing  white  about  them  but  the  name. 
'  My  lads,'  he  said,  '  if  it  is  intended  that  your  neck- 
cloths should  be  white,  you  must  be  ordered  to  wear 
black.'  A  soldier  was  condenmed  to  be  hanged  for  steal- 
ing an  article  worth  only  a  thaler.  Saxe,  meeting  him 
on  the  way  to  the  gallows,  asked :  '  Were  you  not  an 
out-nnd-out  fool  to  risk  your  life  for  a  thaler  ? '  '  Mar- 
shal,' rej)lied  the  criminal,  'I  have  risked  it  day  after 
day  for  ninepence-halfpenny.'      This  reply  saved  his 


MARSHAL    SAXE.  279 

life.  When  his  soldiers  were  guilty  of  excesses,  he 
punished  the  officers,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  their 
business  to  keep  their  men  under  due  restraint. 

What  was  said  of  Marlborough  is  equally  true  of 
Saxe  :  he  never  fought  a  battle  he  did  not  win,  nor 
besieged  a  place  he  did  not  take.  If  it  be  asked  why, 
with  such  qualities  and  capacity,  so  displayed  and 
recognised,  he  does  not  fill  a  more  prominent  place  in  the 
military  ValhaUa,  it  may  be  rephed,  because  these  were 
exerted  for  no  elevated  object  and  produced  no  very 
memorable  or  lastino;  results.  His  battles  were  none 
of  them  the  decisive  battles  of  the  world,  and,  so  far 
as  posterity  is  concerned,  the  strong  places  he  took 
might  have  been  so  many  pieces  on  a  chess-board. 
He  never  established  or  upset  a  dynasty :  won  or 
saved  a  kingdom :  overran  a  continent :  destroyed, 
vindicated,  or  restored  a  nation's  liberties.  The 
popular  instinct  which  deifies  a  Garibaldi  and  depre- 
ciates a  Saxe,  is  not  so  far  wrong  upon  the  whole. 
Animated  by  patriotism,  by  a  deep  sense  of  duty,  by 
lofty  ambition,  by  religious  enthusiasm,  or  by  any 
great  cause  in  which  he  felt  an  absorbing  interest  for 
its  own  sake,  a  man  of  his  genius,  with  scope  for  its 
expansion,  might  have  changed  the  face  of  Eurc^e. 
But  he  fought  in  gilded  fetters,  without  one  ennobling 
or  generous  impulse,  without  a  cause,  a  country,  or 
a  creed  :  he  was  a  soldier  o  fortune,  a  superior  being 
of  the  Dugald  Dalgetty  species  at  best ;  and,  acting 
on  the  condotticre  principle  of  never  enabhng  his 
employer  to  become  independent  of  him,  he  clipped 
the  wings  of  Victory  on  its  eagle  flight  towards  the 
loftiest  pinnacle  of  fame. 

Marshal  Saxe,  then,  cannot  be  ranged  in  the  first 
class  of  great  captains  or  conquerors,  with  Alexander, 
Caisar,  Hannibal,  Napoleon,  Frederic,  Wellington,  and 
three    or   four    others    whose    names   might   provoke 


2 so  MARSHAL    SAXE. 

controversy.  But  he  is  entitled  to  a  Ligli  place  in  the 
second  class,  alongside  of  Spinola,  Monteciiculi,  Wal- 
lenstein  or  Turenne;  and  his  adventurous  life,  crowded 
with  brilliant  episodes,  may  be  advantageously  studied 
as  an  excellent  illustration  of  the  period  in  which  he 
flourished — of  its  courts  and  camps,  its  statesmen  and 
warriors,  its  modes  of  thought  and  action,  its  stage  of 
political  and  intellectual  progress,  its  manners,  morals, 
and  society. 


281 


SYLVAIN  VAN  DE   WEYER.» 
(From  'The  Times.') 

If  the  founders  of  the  Belgian  monarchy  were  to  bo 
grouped  for  an  historic  picture,  a  conspicuous  place  in 
it  belonged  of  right  to  M.  Van  de  Weyer,  who  had 
other  and  independent  claims  to  a  full,  complete,  and 
discriminating  biography,  like  that  for  which  we  are 
indebted  to  M.  Juste.  It  is  in  all  respects  worthy  of 
the  subject.  Composed  with  M.  Van  de  Weyer's 
approval,  and  enriched  by  his  communications,  it  in- 
evitably partakes  somewhat  of  the  nature  of  an  eloge ; 
but  he  merits  an  eloge  better  than  four-fifths  of  the 
personages  on  whom  preachers  and  Academicians  have 
lavished  their  choicest  flowers  of  rhetoric,  and  the 
partiality  of  the  biographer  is  betrayed  rather  by  the 
recorded  commendation  of  those  whose  words  carry 
weight — laudari  a  laudato — than  by  highly-coloured 
statements  or  flattery  of  his  own. 

It  was  the  pride  of  Themistocles,  when  twitted  with 
his  deficiency  in  the  polite  arts,  to  be  able  to  sa^, 
'  'Tis  true  I  never  learnt  how  to  tune  a  harp  or  play 
upon  a  lute,  but  I  know  how  to  raise  a  small  and  in- 
considerable city  to  glory  and  greatness.'  It  might  be 
the  juster  pride  of  M.  Van  de  Weyer  that  he  could 
combine  lightness  with  solidity,  that  he  could  trifle 
gracefully  with  tongue  or  pen  while  converting  subject 
provinces  into  an  independent  nation.  We  are  at- 
tracted to  his  Life  quite  as  much  by  his  wit,  his 
literary  accomplishments,  and  his  social  career,  as  by 

1  Les  Fondateurs  de  In  Monarchie  Beige,  Sylvain  Van  de  Weyer, 
Ministre  d'Etat,  Ancien  Membre  du  Uouvernement  Provisoire,  et  Aucien 
Ministre  Plrnipotentinirede  Belgiqueu  Londres.  D'apred  des  documents 
inedits.      Par  Theodore  Juste.     Bruxelles,  1871.     (2  vols  royal  8vo.) 


282  SYLVAIX    VAX    DE    WEYEK. 

his  statesmansliip  ;  uor  are  we  at  all  afraid  tliat  the 
political  element  will  unduly  predominate  in  the  fol- 
lowing outhne  of  his  career. 

His  Pensees  diverses  include  a  new  reading  of 

*  Et  genus  et  proavos  et  quae  nou  I'ecimus  ipsi, 
Yix  ea  nostra  voco.' 

'  There  is  modesty  in  pluming  one's  self  on  one's 
birth,  one's  fortune,  or  that  which  accident  or  favour 
has  done  for  one.  It  is  an  indirect  confession  of  the 
want  of  innate  worth.'  Neither  M.  Van  de  Weyer, 
nor  his  biographer  on  his  behalf,  has  exhibited  any  of 
this  peculiar  modesty.  Nothing  is  said  of  his  descent 
or  genealogy,  beyond  the  simple  statement  that  he  was 
born  in  1802  ;  that  his  father,  after  having  been  a 
captain  of  Volunteers,  was  then  exercising  the  func- 
tions of  special  commissary  at  Amsterdam,  and  was 
subsequently  appointed  a  judge  of  the  Tribunal  of 
First  Instance  at  Brussels.  We  also  learn  that  his 
mother  was  remarkable  for  strength  of  character  and 
mind ;  thus  adding  another  to  the  many  instances  of 
gifted  men  formed  by  mothers  or  endowed  by  them 
with  the  best  and  brightest  of  their  qualities. 

He  was  first  intended  for  the  Dutch  Navy,  and  was 
among  the  cadets  of  the  Ecole  de  Marine,  who  were 
passed  in  review  by  Napoleon  in  1811  ;  but  his 
studious  habits  and  inclinations,  manifested  in  early 
boyhood,  speedily  caused  the  first  intention  to  be  given 
up,  and  after  a  summary  examination  he  was  ad- 
mitted a  student  in  the  Law  Faculty  of  the  University 
of  Louvain.  His  principal  instructor  was  M.  Van 
Meenen,  the  editor  of  the  Observateur,  the  organ  of  the 
Liberal  i)arty,  to  whom  he  served  his  apprenticeship 
in  journalism  as  well  as  in  philosophy  and  law  ;  and 
in  1 820  we  find  him  in  Paris,  the  bearer  of  letters 
from  M.  Van  Meenen.  Here  he  met  the  poet  Beranger, 
wlio  was  lost  ill  wonder  on  hearinix  from  liiin  (liatthe 


SYLVAIN    VAX    DE    WEVER.  283 

new  generation  in  Belgium  were  not  animated  by  the 
slightest  desire  of  a  return  to  the  French. 

The  future  champion  of  Belgian  independence 
seemed  always  bracing  his  nerves  for  the  grand  effort 
by  resistance  to  tradition  and  authority.  When  the 
time  arrived  for  taking  his  doctor's  degree,  he  posi- 
tively refused  to  comply  with  the  established  precedent 
of  choosing  the  text  of  the  required  thesis  from  the 
Code  Napoleon.  He  presented  a  Latin  dissertation  on 
'  The  Keality,  the  Knowledge,  and  the  Natural  Practice 
of  Duty,'  and  vowed  that,  unless  it  was  accepted,  he 
would  publish  it  as  '  Thesis  Eejected  by  the  Faculty  of 
Law  in  the  University  of  Louvain.'  The  Faculty  gave 
in,  and  he  followed  up  the  victory  by  a  vigorous  article 
in  the  Courrier  des  Pays-Bas,  in  which  he  vehemently 
assailed  the  professorial  censors  to  whom  the  theses  of 
young  doctors  were  submitted. 

We  need  hardly  remind  our  literary  readers  that 
M.  Van  de  Weyer  is  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
members  of  the  Philobiblon  Society,  and  it  is  curious 
to  mark  at  how  early  an  age  he  acquired  the  peculiar 
taste  and  knowledge  which  that  learned  body  was  in- 
stituted to  promote.  At  the  beginning  of  1823, 
having  just  attained  his  twenty-first  year,  he  becan^  a 
candidate  for  the  place  of  librarian  of  the  city  of 
Brussels.  By  way  of  testing  his  capacity,  he  was  shut 
up  with  thirty  editions  of  the  fifteenth  century,  which 
he  was  to  describe  in  detail  without  any  book  of 
reference  at  hand.  The  result  of  this  crucial  test  was 
his  nomination  to  the  place  ;  to  which  the  custodier- 
ship  of  the  precious  collection  of  manuscripts 
transmitted  from  the  Dukes  of  Burgundy  was  subse- 
quently annexed. 

In  1825,  he  published  his  Pensees  diverses,  and  as 
these  were  republished  among  his  Opuscules  in  1863, 
they  may  be  taken  to  anticipate  his  mature  reflections 
on  mankind.     Their  general  tone  is  opposed  to  that  of 


2S4  SYLVAIX    VAX    DE    WEYEE. 

liocliefoucauld.  '  A  mot  of  goodness  ' — runs  one  of 
them — '  surpasses  a  hon  mot  by  all  the  superiority  of 
the  heart  over  the  mind.'  '  A  cold  morality  ' — runs 
another — '  is  almost  always  a  false  morality.'  What 
will  the  ladies  say  to  this  ? — '  J'aimerais  mieux  que  Ton 
appelat  les  femmes  le  Bon  Sexe  que  le  Beau  SexeJ 
How  many  are  there  that  would  rather  be  called  good 
than  handsome  or  pretty  ? 

The  embryo  party-leader  knew  what  he  was  talking 
alwut  when  he  laid  down — '  One  does  not  sacrifice 
one's  self  for  a  party  that  hesitates  ;  a  party  must  take 
its  hne,' — '■ilfaut  qiCun parti  i^renne  son  parti'  He 
i^ays,  '  J'ai  vu  plus  d'lm  homme  s'arreter  dans  un  noble 
elan  vers  le  vrai,  pour  ne  pas  compromettre  ce  qu'on 
appelle,  dans  le  monde,  une  position.'  This  might 
liave  formed  the  motto  of  his  next  essay,  entitled  '  II 
faut  savoir  dire  Non,'  in  which  he  points  out  the  errors 
and  follies  of  which  so  many  of  us  are  constantly  guilty 
from  moral  weakness,  from  unwillingness  to  face  a 
passing  ridicule  or  encounter  momentary  blame  : 

'  Be  iinmovrtble  in  a  "  No  "  once  pronounced.  This  will 
shock  at  first  in  what  is  called  the  world,  where  opposition 
is  unbecoming,  where  people  excuse  Lad  morals  [les  rtiau- 
vaises  mceurs)  and  do  not  excuse  le  mauvais  ton.  Eise 
superior  to  it.  Disdain  tlie  judgments  of  tliese  men,  spoilt 
by  finery,  and  you  will  retain  over  them  the  inappreciable 
advantage  of  a  strong  will  directed  by  a  comprehensive  and 
constantly  applicable  rule.' 

In  1827,  he  was  appointed  Professor  of  Philosophy 
at  the  Museum  of  Sciences  and  Letters  at  Brussels, 
and  delivered  an  inaugural  discourse,  which  was 
liighly  commended  by  M.  Victor  Cousin.  Literary 
and  political  fame  is  not  likely  to  contribute  to  pro- 
fessional success  in  any  country,  but  M.  Van  de  We}^^ 
rapidly  rose  to  a  distinguished  position  at  llie  bar.  In 
particular,  bis  forciisic  eloquence  was  constantly  in 
request  for  the  defence  In  poliiical  prosecutions  against 


SVLVAIX    VAX    DE    WEYER.  285 

tlie  journalists  of  tlie  Opposition,  wlio,  being  trit'd  Ijy 
judges  without  a  jury,  were  commonly  found  guilty  as 
a  matter  of  course  and  subjected  to  heavy  fines  or  im- 
prisonment. During  a  spirited  defence  of  M.  Bcau- 
carne,  editor  of  the  Catholique,  he  was  frequently 
interrupted  by  the  official  prosecutor  addressing  him  as 
Monsieur  Van  de  Weyer.  '  The  learned  gentleman,' 
he  retorted,  '  ought  to  know  that  I  am  here  Maitre 
Van  de  Weyer.  I  give  him  this  lesson,  and,  in  sign  of 
independence  (putting  on  his  cap),  je  me  couvre.' 

Acting  in  the  spirit  of  Grattan's  death-bed  advice  to 
his  sons,  M.  Van  de  Weyer  was  as  ready  with  his 
pistol  as  with  his  pen.  Conceiving  his  honour  wounded 
by  some  remarks  in  the  Journal  de  Gand.  he  hurried 
to  Ghent  with  a  friend  to  call  out  the  editor,  and  the 
insulting  expressions  were  withdrawn.  When,  tliere- 
fore,  the  time  for  the  grand  struggle  arrived,  he  was 
in  capital  training  for  the  part  he  had  to  play  and  the 
work  that  was  cut  out  for  him. 

The  shock  of  the  French  Eevolution  of  July  operated 
like  electricity  on  the  Belgians,  who  felt  towards  the 
Dutch,  with  whom  they  had  been  arbitrarily  coupled 
in  1815,  much  as  the  Venetians  felt  towards  the  Aus- 
trians  till  their  chains  were  broken  at  Sadowa.  On 
the  25th  of  August,  1830,  the  insurrectionary  move- 
ment began  at  Brussels,  where  the  houses  of  the  most 
unpopular  functionaries  were  sacked  by  the  populace, 
and  the  ensigns  of  royalty  thrown  down.  The  day 
following,  the  notables  of  the  city,  Avith  the  staff  of  the 
Civic  Guard,  met  at  the  Hotel  de  "\'i]le  to  adopt  mea- 
sures, not  for  suppressing  the  tunuilt,  but  for  taking 
advantage  of  it  to  enforce  the  redress  of  grie\'ances ; 
the  intolerable  one  being  the  junction  witli  Holland, 
although  nothing  was  said  about  a  separation  till  the 
plot  thickened  and  it  Ijecame  safer  to  advance  than  to 
recede. 

M.  Van  dc  Weyer,  besides  acting  as  secretary  lo  the 


286  SYLVAIX    VAX    DE    WEYER. 

meeting,  was  named  one  of  five  deputies  to  draw  up 
an  addi'ess  to  the  King,  and  the  predominant  position 
tacitly  accorded  to  him  may  be  inferred  from  the  cir- 
cumstance, that  the  communications  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange  witli  the  patriotic  party  were  principally  through 
him.  The  object  of  these  was  to  convert  the  revolted 
Provinces  into  a  separate  State  under  the  presidency 
of  the  Prince.  But  the  King  had  no  notion  of  sur- 
rendering any  portion  of  his  dominions  in  favour  of  a 
son  whom  he  distrusted :  the  compromise  was  rejected, 
and  the  Belgians,  throwing  aside  all  semblance  of 
loyalty,  proceeded  to  construct  a  provisional  govern- 
ment, or  rather  a  series  of  provisional  governments,  to 
complete  and  consolidate  their  independence.  The 
formation  of  one  of  them  is  thus  described  by  M, 
Gendebien,  one  of  the  founders,  whose  share  in  the 
great  work  has  not  yet  been  commemorated  by  M. 
Juste : — 

'After  this  sitting  (September  18)  Van  de  "VVeyer  and  I 
led  Felix  de  Merode  into  the  embrasure  of  one  of  the 
windows  of  the  salon  of  the  so-called  Council.  We  then 
and  there  constituted  a  pro  visionary  government  of  us  three. 
In  the  contingency  of  our  being  separated  by  events,  it  was 
agreed  that  two  together  should  sign  for  them — tliat  is  to 
say,  should  be  authorised- to  add  the  signature  of  the  third.' 

M.  Van  de  Weyer's  ready  wit  gave  point  to  his  good 
sense,  proving  that  excellent  service  may  be  done  to 
the  cause  of  order  by  a  pun.  In  the  midst  of  a  stormy 
meeting  that  was  getting  dangerous,  some  one  shouted 
out,  '  It  is  not  words  we  want ;  it  is  blood ' — '  cest  du 
sang  J  '  Du  sens  comnum,^  retorted  Van  de  Weyer, 
and  shouts  of  laughter  gave  an  opportune  turn  to  the 
mobocracy! 

On  another  occasion  he  interrupted  an  orator  who 
was  indulging  in  the  Danton  or  Robespierre  vein  with, 
'  '89,  yes  ;  '93,  no.'  Despite  his  efforts,  backed  by  the 
best  of  his  party,  there  was  an  approximation  to  '93  in 


SVLVAIN    VAN    DE    WEYER.  287 

tlie  struggle  for  power  and  the  confusion  of  authority, 
if  not  in  bloodtliirstiness.  There  were  successively,  or 
altogether,  a  Regency,  a  Commission  of  Safety,  and  a 
Reunion  centrale,  besides  tlie  Provisional  Government 
of  three  ;  and  there  was  a  time  when,  between  them, 
they  had  brought  things  to  such  a  pass,  that  Van  de 
Weyer,  compelled  to  take  refuge  in  Valenciennes,  an- 
nounced on  his  arrival  to  the  friends  who  had  pre- 
ceded him  that  all  was  lost.  Tliis  was  on  the  '22nd 
of  September.  The  prospect  brightened  on  the  23rd, 
when  the  refugees,  reassiu-ed  as  to  the  disposition  of  the 
people,  determined  to  return.  The  little  troop  set  out, 
headed  by  Van  de  Weyer,  pistol  in  hand,  and  distri- 
buting an  address  beginning,  '  Aiu  armes^  braves 
Beiges;  auxarmes!'  The  '^ braves  Beiges' iQ^\)on{\<d(\ 
to  the  appeal.  The  Eoyal  troops  withdrew  towards 
Malines,  and  the  Provisionary  Government  was  once 
more  in  possession  of  the  capital.  They  were  followed 
by  M.  de  Potter,  whose  triumphant  entry  raised  some 
alarm  lest  he  should  occupy  the  palace  and  assume  the 
Dictatorship.  The  fmictionary  who  came  to  caution 
them  w^as  asked  by  Van  de  Weyer,  '  Have  you  an 
apartment  at  your  disposal  ?'  '  Yes,  my  second  floor.' 
'  Eeturn — offer  it  to  Potter,  he  will  accept  it.  There 
is  no  such  tiling  as  a  Dictator  on  a  second  floor.'  # 

While  this  was  going  on,  the  Prince  of  Orange  sent 
Van  de  Weyer  a  pressing  request,  through  an  aide-de- 
camp, for  an  interview  at  Antwerp.  '  Does  the  Prince 
command  the  citadel  and  the  troops.?'  'No,' replied 
the  ofiicer,  after  some  hesitation.  '  Eetiu-n,  then,  to  the 
Prince  ;  tell  him  tluit  I  was  on  the  point  of  complying 
with  his  invitation,  but  that  I  have  an  instinctive  liorror 
of  all  citadels  and  troops  which  are  not  commanded  by 
his  Eoyal  Highness.' 

While  the  Belgian  cause  was  prospering  at  home, 
serious  doubts  were  raised  as  to  its  reception  abroad. 
Would  the  Five   Powers  consent  to  so  u'rave  a  rent  in 


288  SYLVAIX    A'AX    DE    AVEYER. 

the  Treaty  of  Vienna  ?  Would  England  sanction  the 
movement?  Wonld  France,  ever  on  the  watch  for 
annexation,  resist  the  temptation  of  the  opportnnity  ? 
To  ascertain  these  points  and  conciliate  support,  M. 
Van  de  Weyer,  by  common  consent  the  best  qualified 
for  the  mission,  repaired  to  London,  and  speedily  ascer- 
tained that  there  was  no  adverse  interference  to  be 
ch'eaded  on  the  part  of  the  Wellington  Ministry,  unless 
steps  were  taken  for  a  imion  with  France,  which,  it  was 
intimated,  would  be  vehemently  opposed. 

From  the  leaders  of  the  Liberal  party,  who  soon 
afterwards  acceded  to  power,  he  obtained  warm  assur- 
ances of  support,  although  Lord  Palmerston  could  with 
difficulty  be  induced  to  consider  any  other  arrangement 
until  the  hope  of  inducing  the  Belgians  to  accept  the 
Prince  of  Oranse  as  their  Kino-  or  First  Maojistrate  was 
at  an  end.  '  The  more,'  he  wrote,  '  that  country  is 
drawn  back  to  Holland,  the  better  for  Europe  and 
itself.'  This  view  was  strongly  advocated  by  Lord 
Ponsonby,  the  English  representative  of  the  London 
Conference  at  Brussels,  who,  on  M.  Van  de  Weyer's 
declaring  that  the  people  would  have  nothing  to  do 
^vith  Orangeism,  exclaimed,  '  The  people,  the  people  ! 
Are  you  aware  that  within  eight  da3^s  I  could  have  you 
hanged  at  the  first  tree  in  the  Park  by  this  very  people 
on  whom  you  rely  ? '  '  Yes,'  replied  M.  Van  de  Weyer, 
'  I  believe  that  with  time  and  })leiity  of  money  you 
might ;  but  I  could  have  you  hanged  in  five  minutes, 
and  hanged  gratis.  Don't  let  us  play  at  this  game.' 
They  both  burst  out  laughing  and  shook  hands. 

Something  like  this  occurred  on  the  Middlesex  hus- 
tings between  Colonel  Luttrell  and  Wilkes,  who  had 
given  vent  to  his  well-known  contempt  for  the  sovereign 
])eople  in  an  undertone.  '  How  would  you  look,'  said 
Luttrell,  '  if  I  were  to  repeat  aloud  what  you  have  just 
been  saying?'  'How  would  yoii  look?'  retorted 
Wilkes.     '  I  .should  declare  it  to  be  a  pure  invention 


SYLVAIN  VAN  DE  WEYER.  289 

of  your  own,  and  you  would  Idc  torn  to  pieces  by  the 
mob.' 

Lord  Pulnicrston,  yielding  to  circumstances,  shook 
off  his  Orange  predilections  and  contributed  more  than 
any  other  foreign  statesman — foreign  as  regards  Bel- 
gium, we  mean — to  establish  the  new  Monarchy  on  a 
firm  footing.  Lord  Aberdeen  took  an  opposite  line, 
and  on  the  opening  of  the  Session  of  1832  dehvered  a 
studied  oration  in  favour  of  the  King  of  Holland  and 
his  claims.  M.  Van  de  Weyer  replied  by  a  pamphlet, 
in  which,  after  describing  the  oration  as  a  mosaic  made 
up  of  ill-assorted  materials  borrowed  from  Dutch 
speeches  and  despatches,  he  went  on  : — 

'Facts,  dates,  reasons,  assertions,  oratorical  movements, 
personal  convictions,  all  is  borrowed  from  them,  and  your 
Lordship's  parliamentary  pride  has  condescended  to  the  part 
of  docile  and  faithful  echo  of  notes-verbal  and  diplomatic 
pieces.  Nevertheless,  you  proudly  exclaim,  '  What  I  feel 
strongly,  I  will  express  with  candour.'  Then  follows  a  long 
extract  from  a  Dutch  memoir,  which  you  take  the  trouble 
to  translate  for  the  benefit  of  the  peers  of  England.  Thus, 
Mirabeau,  in  his  Lettres  a  Sophie,  writes  to  liis  mistress,  '  I 
am  about  to  pour  my  soul  into  thine  ! '  and  he  transcribes 
after  these  words  three  pages  of  a  French  novel !  You  have 
aspired,  my  Lord,  to  have  at  least  one  trait  of  resemblance 
to  the  great  orator.  But  if  he  permitted  himself  (and»I 
feel  some  shame  for  him)  this  kind  of  pleasantry  and 
plagiarism  in  affairs  of  love,  he  would  have  taken  good  care 
not  to  transport  it  into  the  field  of  politics.' 

Whenever  the  internal  affairs  of  Belgium  became 
embarrassing,  or  her  wise  monarch  was  in  difficulty  or 
at  fault,  he  was  wont  to  send  for  M.  Van  de  Weyer, 
who  was  more  than  once  commissioned  to  arrange  a 
Ministry,  and  was  a  leading  member  in  one  Ministry 
(Minister  of  the  Literior)  in  1845.  On  resigning  this 
post,  he  immediately  resumed  that  which  he  had  already 
tilled  during  fifteen  ycai's  and  was  destined  to  fill 
twenty-two  years  more — the  post  of  Minister  Pleuipo- 

VOL.  I.  u 


290  SYLVAIX    VAN   DE    WEYER. 

tentiary  at  the  British  Court — the  one  in  which  he  could 
best  watch  over  the  true  interests  of  his  country,  in 
which  his  zeal,  spirit,  fertility  of  resource,  elevation  of 
character,  and  sagacity,  were  most  usefully  and  effect- 
ively displayed.  One  of  his  highest  merits,  at  least  in 
our  eyes,  was  that  he  always  preferred  the  alliance  of 
calm  disinterested  England  to  that  of  boasting,  grasp- 
ing, arrogant,  encroaching  France.^ 

Habitually  courteous  and  conciliatory,  he  fired  up  at 
the  semblance  of  a  national  slight.  On  the  death  of 
the  first  Prince  Eoyal  of  Belgium  in  1834,  the  King 
was  pressed  to  name  a  successor,  and  one  of  his  nephews, 
a  Saxe-Coboiu-g,  was  suggested.  '  Never,'  said  Talley- 
rand, '  will  scions  of  the  House  of  Cobourg  be  tolerated 
in  Belgium  by  France.'  '  Prince,'  replied  M.  Van  de 
Weyer,  '  this  is  the  first  anachronism  I  ever  heard  you 
commit.  You  fancy  yourself  still  ambassador  of  Na- 
poleon the  Great.  Independent  Belgium  and  her  King 
have  the  incontestable  r'vjlit  to  choose  a  successor  to  the 
throne.' 

Tlie  late  Lady  Holland,  along  with  her  many  good 
qualities,  could  be  positive,  peremptory,  and  provoking 
when  it  suited  her.  Shortly  after  M.  Van  de  Weyer's 
arrival  in  England  as  Belgian  Minister,  he  was  dining 
witli  a  distinguished  party  at  Holland  House,  when  she 
suddenly  turned  to  him  and  asked,  '  How  is  Leopold  ?  ' 
'  Does  your  Ladyship  mean  the  King  of  the  Belgians  ? ' 
'  I  have  heard,'  she  rejoined,  '  of  Flemings,  Hainaulters, 
and  Brabanters ;  but  Belgians  are  new  to  me.'  His 
reply  was  in  French,  in  which  the  conversation  had 
been  partly  carried  on  : 

'  Mil.idi,  avant  d'avoir  I'honneur  de  vous  etre  presente, 
j'avuis  entendu  souvent  parler  de  vous,  non-seuleraent  corame 

'  Reiteratod  proof  of  tlie  designs  of  Franco  on  r>clpiiiiu  may  be  road 
in  IJulwor's  'Life  of  Lord  I'almerston/  vol.  ii.  books  vii.  and  ix.  The 
JJi'iiodetti  intri<,nio  at  Pxirlin  was  simply  the  coutinuution  of  a  traditional 
polic^y  common  to  all  I- rinch  }^ovurnmonts. 


SYLVAIN   VAN    BE   WF.YKR.  ,      291 

d'une  femme  de  beaucoup  d'esprit,  mais  aussi  comme  d'une 
femme  qui  avait  beaucoup  lu.  Eh  bien  I  est-il  possible  que, 
dans  vos  nombreuses  lectures,  vous  n'ayez  pas  rencontre, 
le  livre  d'un  nomme  Jules  Cesar — gar9on  de  beaucoup 
d'esprit— qui,  dans  ses  Commentaires,  donne  a  toute  notre 
population  le  nom  de  Beiges,  et  ce  nom,  nous  I'avons  con- 
serve depuis  lui  jiisqu'a  nos  jours  ? ' 

She  commonly  took  to  those  who  stood  up  to  her, 
and  he  became  an  established  favourite  at  Holland 
House. 

Although,  as  a  mark  of  honour,  retaining  his  di[)lo- 
matic  rank,  M.  Van  de  Weyer  formally  withdi'ew  from 
active  service  in  June  1867,  on  the  hardly  admissible 
plea  of  advancing  age  and  ill-health.  This  plea  was 
earnestly  contested,  not  only  by  his  colleagues  and 
friends,  but  by  Leopold  II.,  the  present  King  of  the 
Belgians,  who,  like  Leopold  I.,  the  model  of  a  consti- 
tutional monarch,  is  an  excellent  judge  of  character 
and  capacity.  M.  Van  de  Weyer,  however,  was  proof 
against  all  persuasions  and  remonstrances,  which  he 
playfully  parried  by  a  reference  to  a  favourite  author  : 
'  Le  sage^  dit  La  Fontaine,  est  toujours  pret  a  partir. — 
Je  veux  tdcher  d'etre  sage  et  tcicher  d'etre  pret.  Or, 
pour  cela,  ilfaut  que  je  puisse  consacrer  le  peu  qui  7ue 
reste  de  temps  a  mes  a f aires  particulieres.' 

Let  us  hope  that  this  peu  de  temps  includes  many- 
years,  and  that  a  part  of  the  studious  leisure  he  has 
thus  prudently  secured  for  himself  has  been  employed 
in  completing  the  collection  of  his  fugitive  pieces,  the 
best  of  which — Richard  Cobden,  Eoi  des  Beiges,  for 
example — rival  and  recall  Paul  Louis  Courier.  Two 
volumes  have  already  appeared  under  the  title  of 
Choix  dOqmscides,^  edited   by  M.  Octave  Delepiere, 

^  Choix  d'Opnscnles  philOfopbiqiies,  historiques,  politiquos,  et 
litleraires  de  Sylvain  Van  de  Weyer.  Precddds  d'avaiit-propos  de 
I'Editeur.  Premiere  et  deuxieme  Series.  Londres,  Triibner  et  Cie. 
1803  and  1809. 

V  2 


202  SYLVAIN    VAN    DE    WEYER. 

the  learned  and  liighly  esteemed  Secretary  of  Legation 
to  the  Belgian  Embassy. 

After  mentioning  M.  Van  de  Weyer's  mission  to  Por- 
tugal in  1836,  M.  Juste  says  that  the  King,  in  grateful 
recognition  of  liis  services,  offered  liim  the  title  of  Count, 
which  was  respectfully  declined.  '  If,'  he  said,  '  there 
had  existed  a  House  of  Peers  in  Belgium,  it  would  have 
been  inexcusable  to  decline  a  political  position  ;  but,  as 
to  a  noble  designation,  he  hoped  some  day  or  other  to 
have  a  name,  and  did  not  aspu'e  to  a  title.'  When  it 
is  remembered  with  how  many  memorable  events  and 
transactions  that  name  has  been  honourably  associated, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  judged  rightly.  His 
calm  confidence  in  the  futm^e  is  amply  vindicated  by 
this  biography,  and  most  especially  by  the  period  of  its 
publication.  Earely,  very  rarely,  does  it  come  to  pass 
that  the  entire  career  of  so  eminent  and  active  a  man 
can  be  laid  bare  before  the  world  in  his  hfetime — safely, 
fearlessly,  and  truthfully — without  reticence  and  with- 
out offence. 


293 


ALEXANDER    DUMAS. 
From  the  Quarterly  Review  for  July  1871. 

1.  iMernoires  cV Alexandre  Dumas.     Tomes  16. 

2.  Memoirs.-^:      cV Alexandre      Dumas.       Deuxieme    Serie. 

Tomes  8. 

Bacox  never  gave  stronger  proof  of  his  knowledge  of 
mankind  than  when  he  left  his  '  name  and  memory 
to  foreio'n  nations  and  the  next  aj^es.'  A  whole  host 
of  proverbs  might  be  cited  in  justification  of  this  be- 
quest ;  and  Lord  Eussell  has  fehcitously  described  a 
proverb  as  the  wisdom  of  many  and  the  wit  of  one. 
'  No  man  is  a  prophet  in  his  own  country.'  '  No 
man  is  a  hero  to  his  valet  de  chanibre.'  '  Familiarity 
breeds  contempt.'  Wliat  are  these  but  so  many 
variations  of  the  same  familiar  tune,  so  many  modes 
of  expressing  the  same  universally  recognised  truth, 
that.it  is  vain  to  hope  for  a  just  and  fak  appreciation 
iitmi  our  contemporaries.  We  may  be  unduly  ef- 
alted  as  well  as  undidy  lowered  by  them,  for  a  brief 
]:)eriod  or  for  a  set  purpose ;  but  that  they  should 
hold  the  scales  even,  and  pronounce  impartially  on 
the  merits  or  demerits  of  a  living  rival  or  associate, 
would  seem  to  border  on  a  moral  impossibility.  In 
conversation  witli  James  Smith,  Crabbe  expressed  great 
astonishment  at  liis  own  popularity  in  London,  adding, 
'  In  my  own  village  they  think  nothing  of  me.'  If 
people  cannot  bring  tliemselves  to  contemplate  as  a 
real  genius  the  quiet  unobtrusive  character  whom  tliey 
see  moving  amongst  them  like  any  other  ordinary 
mortal,  how  can  they  be  expected  to  recognise,  as  a 


201  ALEXANDER    DUMAS. 

duly  qualified  candidate  for  the  character,  one  who  is 
mixed  up  in  a  succession  of  literary  or  party  intrigues 
and  contests,  who  is  alternately  wounding  their  pre- 
judices or  flattering  their  self-love,  whose  fame  or 
notoriety  resembles  the  shuttlecock,  which  is  only  kept 
from  falling  by  being  struck  from  side  to  side  in 
rivalry. 

In  England,  of  late  years,  political  acrimony  has  been 
nearly  banished  from  the  higher  regions  of  criticism ; 
but  an  infinity  of  disturbing  forces  have  been  unceas- 
ingly at  work  to  prevent  the  fair  estimate  of  a  popular 
writer  in  France,  and  there  never  was  a  popular  writer 
who  had  better  reason  than  Alexander  Dumas  to  pro- 
test against  the  contemporary  judgment  of  his  country- 
men, or  to  appeal,  like  Bacon,  to  foreign  nations  and 
the  next  ages.  This  could  hardly  have  been  his  own 
opinion  when  he  commenced  the  publication  of  his 
autobiography,  which  was  far  from  mitigating  the  spirit 
of  detraction  he  had  provoked ;  but  his  death  may  be 
accepted  as  an  atonement  for  his  manifold  ofiences ; 
and  the  most  cursory  glance  at  his  career  will  show 
that  its  irregularities  were  indissolubly  connected  with 
its  brilliancy.  It  was  an  adventurous  one,  in  every 
sense  of  the  term.  From  its  commencement  to  its 
close  he  threw  reflection  overboard  and  cast  prudence 
to  the  winds.  He  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  examples 
of  fearless  self-reliance,  restless  activity,  and  sustained 
exertion,  we  ever  read  or  heard  of.  His  resources  of 
all  sorts,  mental  and  bodily,  proved  inexhaustible  till 
six  months  before  his  death,  although  he  had  been 
drawing  upon  them  from  early  youth  with  reckless  pro- 
digality. Amongst  his  many  tours  de  force  was  the  com- 
position of  a  complete  live-act  drama  within  eight  days, 
and  the  editorship  of  a  daily  journal,  Le  Mousquetaire, 
upon  a  distinct  understanding  with  his  subscribers, 
faithfully  observed,  that  the  contents  should  be  supplied 
by  his  pen.    ^It  was  towards  the  end  of  the  second 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS  295 

month  of  the  satisfactory  performance  of  this  task  that 
he  received  the  following  letter  : — 

*  My  dear  Dumas, 

*  You  liave  been  informed  that  I  have  become  one  of 
your  subscribers  {abonnes),  and  you  ask  my  opinion  of  your 
journal.  I  have  an  opinion  on  human  things  :  I  have  none 
on  miracles :  you  are  superhuman.  My  opinion  of  you  ! 
It  is  a  note  of  exclamation  !  People  have  tried  to  discover 
perpetual  motion.  You  have  done  better :  you  have  created 
perpetual  astonishment.  Adieu  ;  live  ;  in  other  words,  write  : 
I  am  there  to  read. 

'  Lamartine. 

'  Paris,  20th  December,  1853.' 

He  set  up  a  theatre — Le  Theatre  historigue — for  the 
representation  of  his  own  plays,  as  he  set  up  a  journal 
for  his  own  contributions.  He  has  not  written  quite  as 
many  plays  as  Lope  de  Vega,  but  he  has  written  four 
times  as  many  romances  as  the  author  of  '  Waverley ; ' 
and  he  has  done  quite  enough  in  both  walks  to  confute 
the  theory  that  a  successful  dramatist  must  necessarily 
fail  as  a  novelist,  and  vice  versa.  Postponing  for  a 
moment  the  questions  of  morality  and  originality,  it  can 
no  longer  be  denied  in  any  quarter  that  Dumas'  in- 
fluence, whether  for  good  or  evil,  has  been  immense 
on  both  sides  of  the  Channel.  Indeed,  we  are  by  fid 
means  sure  that  his  romances  have  not  been  more 
read  by  the  higher  class  in  tliis  country  than  in  his 
own.  Nor,  in  glancing  over  his  multifarious  claims  to 
rank  amongst  the  leading  spirits  of  his  age,  must  we 
forget  his  numerous  '  Voyages  '  and  '  Impressions  de 
Voyages,'  constituting  altogether  between  twenty  and 
thirty  most  amusing  and  instructive  volumes  of  travels. 
But  they  are  wholly  unlike  "what  are  commonly  called 
Travels,  and  constitute  an  entirely  new  style  of  writing. 
He  has  a  prodigious  memory,  filled  to  overflowing 
with  tlie  genuine  romance  of  history:  he  liglits  instinc- 
tively upon  every  local  tradition  that  is  worth  recording : 


200  ALEXANDER    DUifAS. 

lie  has  a  quick  eye  for  the  picturesque  and  (above  all) 
an  exquisite  perception  of  the  humorous.  He  is  about 
the  best  possible  stoiyteller  in  print,  and  he  rarely 
dwells  too  long  on  a  ludicrous  incident,  nor  forces  us 
to  keep  company  with  his  laughable  characters  till  they 
grow  wearisome. 

The  wonder  at  his  unprecedented  fertility  and  versa- 
tility had  led  at  one  time  to  a  very  general  belief  that 
most  of  his  publications  were  concocted  by  a  set  of 
'prentice  hands  or  journeymen,  whom  he  paid  at  so 
much  a  sheet ;  and  that  the  utmost  he  contributed  to 
their  handiwork  w^as  a  masterly  touch  here  and  there, 
and  his  name  on  the  title-page.  One  of  these,  named 
Macquet,  boldly  laid  claim  to  a  lion's  share  in  the  com- 
position of  the  best,  and  was  strenuously  supported  by 
critics  of  authority.^  But  Macquet  was  avowedly  em- 
ployed by  Dumas  for  twenty  years  to  himt  up  subjects, 
sup[)ly  accessories,  or  do  for  him  what  eminent  portrait 
painters  are  wont  to  leave  to  pupils,  namely,  the  pre- 
paration of  the  canvas,  the  mixing  of  the  colours,  the 
rough  outline  of  the  figures,  or  the  di\apery.  That 
Macquet  was  capable  of  nothing  better  or  higher,  was 
proved  by  his  utter  failure  as  a  novelist,  whenever, 
both  before  and  after  the  alleged  partnership,  he  set  up 
for  himself. 

A  curious  attempt  was  then  made  to  show  by  cal- 
culation that  the  number  of  pages  which  Dumas, 
according  to  his  own  account,  nnist  have  composed 
during  his  hterary  life,  was  more  than  the  most  prac- 
tised penman  could  have  copied  in  the  same  space  of 


'  FaWique  (Ic  liomana  :  Maison  Dinnas  ef  Compar/nie.  Par  Eugene  de 
Mirecouit.  Paris,  1 845.  Les  iSxperc/ieries  litteraires  devoilSes.  Par  J.  M. 
Qu6rar(l.  Troisieme  Edition.  Paris,  1809.  Article  '  Dumas' (Alexandre 
Davy).  This  article,  containing  lo2  pages  of  close  print  in  double 
columns,  is  a  collection  of  all  the  criticisms  and  attacks,  founded  or  un- 
founded, ever  levelled  against  Duraas  ;  and  although  invaluable  as  a  fund 
of  information,  it  carries  little  weight  as  an  authority  by  reason  of  its 
obviuu"?  exagg<'i-(iti(iu  and  injustice. 


ALEXANDER  DU.MAS.  207 

time  at  the  rate  of  sixty  pages  a  day.  Jjiit  as  liis  lilc- 
rary  life  lasted  more  than  foi"ty  years,  the  required 
quantity  per  day  is  quadrupled  or  quintupled  in  this 
estimate ;  and  the  production  of  twelve  or  fourteen 
widely-printed  pages,  on  the  average,  for  a  series  of 
years  is  by  no  means  a  physical  impossibility.  This 
rate  of  composition  was  often  exceeded  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  who  wrote  or  dictated  the  '  Bride  of  Lammer- 
moor  '  whilst  suffering  from  cramp  in  the  stomach  to  an 
extent  that  often  compelled  him  to  break  off  and  tlirow 
himself  on  a  sofa  to  writhe  in  agony.  Lope  de  Vega  is 
known  to  have  written  five  full-length  dramas  in  fifteen 
days,  and  his  dramatic  compositions,  published  or  un- 
published, have  been  computed  to  exceed  two  thou- 
sand.^ Edgeworth  states,  in  his  '  Memoirs,'  as  an  ascer- 
tained fact  on  which  heavy  bets  were  laid  and  won, 
that  a  man  could  run  faster  with  a  carriage-wheel, 
which  he  propelled  with  the  bare  hand  as  a  child 
trundles  a  hoop,  than  when  he  was  entirely  unencum- 
bered, provided  the  prescribed  distance  were  sufficient 
for  the  impetus  or  adventitious  motion  thus  acquired  to 
tell.  This  sounds  more  paradoxical  and  open  to  doubt 
than  a  statement  made  in  our  hearing  by  Dumas,  that, 
when  he  warmed  to  his  work,  he  could  supply  origi||jal 
matter  faster  than  it  could  be  transcribed  by  the 
readiest  penman.  His  mode  of  life  was  thus  de- 
scribed in  the  '  Siecle  ' : — 

'  He  rises  at  six :  before  him  are  laid  thirty-five  sheets  of 
paper  of  the  largest  size  ;  he  takes  up  his  pen  and  writes  in 
a  hand  that  ]M.  de  Saint-Omer  woidd  envy,  till  eleven.  At 
eleven  he  breakfasts,  always  in  company  :  the  author  of 
"  Monte  Christo  "  is  the  most  hospitable  of  men  of  letters  : 
during  this  meal,  in  which  he  plays  a  good  knife  and  fork, 
his  spirits  and  his  wit  never  flag.  At  twelve  he  resumes 
the  pen,  not  to  quit  it  again  till  six  in  the  evening.  The 
dinner  linds  him  what  he  was  in  the  morning,  as  lively,  as 

*  Ticknoi's  '  Ilistory  of  Spauiah  Literature,'   vol.  ii.  p.  204. 


20S  ALEXANDER    DUMAS. 

li<;ht-hearted,  as  ready  at  repartee.  If  by  chance  he  has  not 
tilled  the  allotted  number  of  sheets,  a  momentary  shade 
passes  over  his  face,  he  steals  away,  and  returns  two  or  three 
hoiurs  later  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  soiree.  The  year 
has  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  :  we  have  described 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  of  the  famous  novelist  and 
dramatist.' 

We  have  now  before  us  (received  from  Dumas)  the 
original  manuscript  of  a  chapter  of  the  '  Memoires  d'un 
Medecin,'  obviously  dashed  off  at  a  heat.  The  hand- 
■\vriting  is  large,  round,  and  free,  bearing  a  strong  re- 
semblance to  that  of  Scott. 

The  charge  of  plagiarism  is  one  easily  brought,  and 
not  easily  parried  except  by  showing  that  there  is 
nothing  new  under  the  sun,  and  that  the  most  inven- 
tive minds  have  not  disdained  to  borrow  fi'om  their 
predecessors.  Virgil  borrowed  from  Homer :  Eacine, 
from  Em'ipides  :  Corneille  (for  his  Cid),  from  a  Spanish 
dramatist.  '  Je  prends  mon  blen  ou  je  le  trouve,'  was 
the  unabashed  avowal  of  Moliere.  Shakespeare  drew 
largely  on  chronicles,  popular  histories  and  story-books 
for  his  characters  and  plots :  his  Greeks  and  Eomans 
frequently  speak  the  very  words  placed  in  theh  mouth 
by  Plutarch  :  '  Julius  Caesar '  was  preceded  by  a  Latin 
play  on  the  same  subject,  and  (amongst  other  things) 
the  famous  Et  tu  Brute  ?  was  taken  from  it.^  Voltaire 
sedulously  ran  down  Shakespeare,  to  throw  dust  in  the 
eyes  of  the  French  public  and  prevent  them  from  dis- 
covering his  obligations  to  the  barbarian,  as  they  desig- 
nated the  author  of  '  Hamlet.'  '  L'Ermite  '  in  '  Zadii? ' 
is  a  mere  paraphrase  of  Parnell's  poem ;  and  the  fable 
(Voltafre's)  of  '  Le  Lion  et  le  Marseillais  '  is  borrowed 
from  Mandeville.  The  framework  and  all  the  solid 
portions  of  Mirabeau's  best  speeches  Avere  notoriously 
supplied  by  Dumont ;  little  being  left  for  the  orator  but 
to  infuse  the  Pi'omethean  fire  and  vivify  the  mass. 

'  Soe  ante,  p.  11, 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  200 

We  alluded  in  a  preceding  essay  to  a  note  in  tlie 
handwriting  of  Talleyi^and's  brother,  to  the  effect  that 
the  only  breviary  used  by  the  ex-bishop  was  '  L'lmpro- 
visateur  francais,'  a  voluminous  collection  of  anecdotes 
and  jests  ;  the  fraternal  inference  being  that  his  conver- 
sational brilliancy  was  partly  owing  to  tliis  repository. 
Pascal  copies  whole  pages  from  Montaigne  without 
quoting  him.  Sheridan  confessedly  acted  on  Moliere's 
principle  or  no-principle  :  lie  was  indebted  to  Farquhar 
for  the  '  Trip  to  Scarborough  :'  the  most  admired  bit 
of  dialogue  between  Joseph  Surface  and  Lady  Teazle 
is  the  recast  of  a  fine  reflection  in  '  Zadig  ' ;  ^  and,  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  Tom  Jones  and  Blifil  must 
have  influenced  the  conception  of  Charles  and  Joseph 
Siuface.  '  With  regard  to  the  charges  about  the  ship- 
wi'eck,'  wrote  Lord  Byi^on  to  ]\Ir.  Murray, '  I  think  tliat 
I  told  you  and  Mr.  Hobhouse  years  ago  that  there  was 
not  a  single  circumstance  of  it  not  taken  from  fact ; 
not,  indeed,  from  any  single  shipwreck,  but  all  from 
actual  facts  of  different  shipwi'ecks.'  So  little  was  Tasso 
ashamed  of  occasional  imitations  of  other  poets,  or  in- 
corporated details  from  history,  that,  in  his  commen- 
tary  on  his  '  Eime,'  he  takes  pains  to  point  out  all 
coincidences  of  the  kind. 

Scott  lays  particular  stress  in  his  Preface  on  the 
fidelity  with  which  he  has  followed  the  narratives  and 
traditions  on  which  his  romances  are  almost  uniformly 
based :  but  he  forgot  to  note  that  the  scene  in  '  Kenil- 
worth,'  where  Amy  is  kneeling  before  Leicester  and 
asking  him  about  his  orders  of  knighthood,  was  copied 
from  the  '  Egmont '  of  Goethe.  Balzac  has  appropri- 
ated for  one  of  his  novels  an  entire  chapter  of  '  The 
Disowned.'     Lamartine  has  been  tracked  to  gleaning 

1  '  Astart^  est  fenime  ;  elle  laisse  parler  ses  regards  avec  d'autant  plus 
d'imprudenee  qu'elle  ne  se  croit  pas  encore  coupable.  Malheiireusement 
rassuree  sur  son  innocence,  elle  neglige  les  dehors  nt5cossaire^.  Je  trem- 
blerai  pour  elle  tant  qu'elle  u'aura  rieu  a  se  reprocher.' — Zadiy. 


300  ALEXANDER    DUMAS. 

^rouiid:^,  \vliirli  ho  hoped  to  visit  incognito,  by  Saint e- 
lieiive.  Dr.  Ferriar  has  unsparingly  exposed  the  poach- 
ing propensities  of  Sterne,  wlio,  besides  making  free 
with  Eabelais  and  Burton,  has  been  indirectly  the  means 
of  drao-<_niig  more  than  one  author  from  obscm'ity  by 
stealincr  from  him.  Lord  Brouscham  left  a  translation 
of  Voltaire's  '  Memnon,  ou  La  Sagesse  humaine,'  to  be 
published  as  an  original  composition  of  his  own ;  and 
his  executors,  entering  fully  into  the  spirit  of  the  tes- 
tator and  carrying  out  his  last  wishes  to  the  letter,  have 
published  it  as  he  left  it,  without  a  hint,  haply  without 
a  suspicion,  of  its  quality. 

One  of  the  fine  images  with  which  Canning  wound 
up  his  peroration  of  the  Lidemnity  Bill  of  1818  was 
certainly  anticipated  by  Madame  de  Stael.^  The  em- 
bryo of  Macaulay's  '  New  Zealander '  has  been  dis- 
covered in  Horace  Walpole's  curious  traveller  from 
Lima  ;  and  the  Theodora  of '  Lothair '  bears  so  strong 
a  resemblance  to  the  Olympia  of  '  Half  a  Million  of 
Money,'  as  to  raise  a  compromising  conviction  of  iden- 
tity. But  these  are  trifles.  On  one  of  the  most  solemn 
and  memorable  occasions  within  living  memory,  in 
expressing  as  leader  of  the  House  of  Commons  the 
national  feeling  of  gratitude  and  admkation  for  the 
hero  of  a  hundi^ed  fights,  Mr.  Disraeli  took  boldly  and 
bodily  without  the  change  of  a  word,  rather  more  than 
a  third  of  his  prepared  oration  from  the  translation  of 
an  article  in  a  French  review,  on  the  Memoirs  of  a 
French  Marshal,  by  M.  Thiers. 

We  have  been  at  some  pains  to  illustrate  the  various 
shades  and  degrees  of  what  is  commonly  called  pla- 
giarism; because  Dumas  has  been  accused  of  all  of 
them,  from  the  gravest  to  the  lightest,  and  needs  all  the 
support  and  sanction  that  can  be  derived  from  example 

'  '  If  in  the  hour  of  ppril  the  statue  of  Liberty  lias  been  veiled  for  a 
moment,  let  it  be  confessed  injustice  that  tlie  hands  whose  painful  duty 
it  waste  spread  llmt  veil,  liave  not  been  the  least  prompt  to  remove  it.' 


ALEXANDER    DUMAS.  oO  I 

and  authority.  If  we  are  to  put  iaitli  in  his  assailants, 
he  has  pushed  to  extravagance  the  appropriation  doc- 
trine of  Mohere :  he  has  rivalled  not  only  the  broom- 
maker  who  stole  the  materials,  but  the  one  who  stole 
his  brooms  ready  made  :  he  has  taken  entire  passages 
like  Mr.  Disraeh,  complete  stories  like  Voltaire  and 
Lord  Brougham :  and  as  for  plots,  scenes,  images,  dia- 
logues, if  restitution  to  the  original  proprietors  were 
enforced,  he  would  be  Hke  the  daw  stripped  of  its  bor- 
rowed plumes,  or  (to  borrow  a  less  hackneyed  image 
from  Lord  Chatham)  he  would  '  stand  before  the  world, 
like  our  first  parents,  naked  but  not  ashamed.'  But 
somehow  these  charges,  though  pointedly  urged,  have 
utterly  failed  in  their  main  object :  there  is  no  denying 
the  real  genius,  the  genuine  originality,  of  the  man 
after  all :  and  the  decisive  test  is  that  what  he  takes 
assimilates  to  what  he  creates,  and  helps  to  form  an 
harmonious  whole,  instead  of  lying,  'like  lumps  of 
marl  upon  a  barren  moor,  encumbering  what  they 
cannot  fertihse.'  Nor  is  his  one  of  those  puny  reputa- 
tions that  must  be  kept  alive  by  nursing,  that  cannot 
bear  exposure,  that  go  down  at  once  before  a  storm. 
On  the  contrary,  it  has  almost  invariably  been  con- 
firmed and  augmented  by  the  most  formidable  attacks 
levelled  at  him,  as  a  great  flame  is  increased  and 
spread  by  the  wind  which  blows  out  a  small  one. 

The  autobiography  of  such  a  man  could  not  well 
fail  to  abound  in  curious  information,  lively  anecdote, 
and  suggestive  reflection ;  nor  are  these  Memoirs 
wanting  in  merits  of  a  more  sterling  order.  Thev 
contain  some  capital  canons  of  criticism  ;  and,  despite 
the  irrepressible  influences  of  national  and  personal 
vanity,  they  are  marked  by  a  pervading  spirit  of  kindly 
feeling  and  good  sense.  If  ill-disposed  to  spare  the 
errors  and  weaknesses  of  political  adversaries,  he  is 
almost  always  candid  and  generous  towards  lite- 
rary rivals.      His  highest  admiration  is  reserved  for 


302  ALEX.\NDER    DUMAS. 

real  geuius  aud  true  greatness  ;  althoiigli  tlie  oue  may 
be  follen  and  the  other  out  of  fashion.  It  is  never  the 
reigning  dynasty,  nor  the  actual  dispensers  of  favour 
and  fortune,  that  are  the  objects  of  his  most  enthusiastic 
praise,  but  the  friends  or  patrons  who  sacrificed  their 
prospects  to  their  principles,  and  lingered  in  exile,  or 
died  poor. 

We  wish  we  could  add  that  he  has  kept  himself 
equally  free  from  interested  considerations  in  his  choice 
of  topics  and  materials ;  for  it  is  impossible  not  to 
fancy  that  many  of  these  have  been  pressed  into  the 
service  Avitli  an  exclusive  eye  to  bookmaking.  For 
example,  a  long  chapter  is  filled  with  an  abstract  of 
Moore's  Life  of  Byron ;  and  each  volume  contains 
episodical  narratives  of  public  events  which  have  no 
peculiar  bearing  on  his  life.  Still,  we  should  gladly 
hail  his  reminiscences  as  a  valuable  contribution  to  the 
literary  and  political  history  of  the  nineteenth  century 
if  we  could  rely  on  their  general  accuracy.  But  we 
were  startled  at  the  commencement  by  sundry  state- 
ments which,  assuming  them  to  be  true,  strikingly 
illustrate  the  maxim  le  vrai  nest  pas  toajours  le 
vraisemhlable ;  and  we  found  more  and  more,  as  we 
proceeded,  that  which  would  go  far  towards  justifying 
the  theory  of  the  late  Vice-Chancellor  Shadwell,  who 
formally  laid  down  from  the  judgmeut-seat  that 
writers  of  fiction  are  not  good  witnesses,  because  they 
necessarily  contract  an  incurable  habit  of  trusting  to 
their  imagination  for  their  facts.  On  this  delicate 
point,  however,  our  readers  may  judge  for  themselves 
after  reading  Dumas'  account  of  his  birth,  parentage, 
and  education. 

It  were  to  be  wished  that  the  same  pliilosophical 
indifference  touching  the  chstinctions  of  birth  which 
was  exhibited  by  Sydney  Smith, ^  had  been  manifested 

'  In  reference  to  Locklinrt'.s  attempt  to  make  out  an  irreproachable 
pedigree  for  Sir  Waller  Hcolt,  Sydney  Smith  said — '  Wlion  Lady  Lans- 


ALEXANDER    DUMAS.  303 

by  all  autobiographers  who  could  not  boast  of  aii 
admitted  or  clearly  established  claim  to  ancestral 
honours ;  for  an  apocryphal  progenitor  is  very  far 
indeed  from  conciliating  respect  or  favoiu"  for  his  soi- 
disant  descendant.  After  stating  that  he  was  born  on 
the  24tli  July,  1802,  at  Villers-Coterets,  '  two  hundred 
paces  from  the  Rue  de  la  Noue,  where  Desmoutiers 
died,  two  leagues  from  Ferte-Milon,  where  Eacine  was 
born,  and  seven  leagues  from  Chateau-Thierry,  where 
La  Fontaine  first  saw  the  light,'  Dumas  proceeds  to 
state  that  his  real  hereditary  name  is  not  Dumas : — 

'  I  am  one  of  the  men  of  our  epoch  whose  right  has  been 
contested  to  the  greatest  number  of  things.  People  have 
even  contested  my  right  to  my  name  of  Davy  de  la  Pailleterie, 
to  which  I  attach  no  great  importance,  since  I  have  never 
borne  it,  and  because  it  will  only  be  found  at  the  end  of 
my  name  of  Dumas  in  the  official  acts  which  I  have  executed 
before  notaries,  or  in  the  documents  in  which  I  have  figured 
as  principal  or  witness.' 

To  prove  his  title  to  honourable  designation,  he 
prints  an  exact  copy  of  the  register  of  his  birth,  from 
which  he  undoubtedly  appears  to  be  the  legitimate 
offspring  of  Thomas  Alexandre  Dumas-Davy  de  la 
Pailleterie,  General,  &c.,  &c.,  shown  by  other  re^- 
rences  to  be  the  son  of  the  Marquis  de  la  Paille- 
terie, a  French  nobleman  of  ancient  family,  who,  adds 
his  grandson,  '  by  I  know  not  what  Court  quarrel,  or 
what  speculative  project,  was  induced,  about  17C0,  to 
sell  his  property  and  domicile  himself  in  St.  Domingo.' 
It  would  seem  that  his  expatriation  did  not  last  long, 
for  in  1786  we  find  him  settled  in  Paris,  where  the 
following  brief  dialogue  between  him  and  his  son,  the 

downe  asked  me  flbout  my  grandfather,  I  told  lier  he  disappeared  about 
the  time  of  the  assizes,  and  we  asked  no  questions.'  This  pleasantry, 
whicli  was  afterwards  copied  by  Theodore  Hook  in  one  of  his  novels  and 
has  been  frequently  repeated  with  variations,  was  uttered  to  the  present 
writer  in  the  Athencuuiu  Club. 


304  ALEXANDER   DUMAS. 

ftither  of  the  naiTutor,  explains  the  alleged  ehunge  of 
name.  The  son  calls  upon  the  Marquis  and  announces 
a  sudden  resolution.  'What  is  it?'  inquires  the 
Marquis.  'To  enhst.'  'As  what?'  'As  soldier.' 
'  Where ?  '  'In  the  first  regiment  that  comes  to  hand.' 
'  As  you  hke,'  replied  my  grandfather ;  '  but  as  I  am 
tlie  Marquis  de  la  Pailleterie  and  Colonel  Commissary- 
General  of  Artillery,  I  cannot  permit  my  name  to  be 
dragged  about  in  the  lowest  grades  of  the  army.' 
'Then  you  object  to  my  enlisting?'  'No;  but  you 
will  enlist  under  a  nom  de  guerre.''  '  Nothing  can  be 
more  just ;  I  will  enhst  under  the  name  of  Dumas.' 
'  Be  it  so.'  And  the  Marquis,  who  had  never  been  the 
tenderest  of  fathers,  tm^ned  his  back  on  his  son,  leaving 
him  free  to  do  as  he  chose.  '  My  father  therefore 
enlisted,  as  agreed,  under  the  name  of  Alexandre 
Dumas.'  The  Marquis  died  thirteen  days  afterwards, 
but  the  new  recruit  never  assumed  his  hereditary  name 
and  title — an  omission  which  might  fairly  warrant  a 
passing  doubt  of  his  right  to  them,  were  it  not  for  a 
certificate,  signed  by  four  notables  of  St.  Germain  en 
Laye,  to  the  efiect  that  he  was  by  bulh  a  genuine 
Davy  de  la  Pailleterie. 

This  weighty  question  being  disposed  of,  Dumas 
proceeds  to  enlarge  on  the  corporal  advantages  of  his 
father,  who,  if  he  answered  to  the  description,  must 
have  united  the  grace  and  beauty  of  Antinous  to  the 
strength  of  Hercules  : — 

'  He  had  the  biown  complexion,  chestnut  hair,  soft  eyes, 
and  straiglit  nose  which  belong  exclusively  to  the  mixture  of 
the  Indian  and  Caucasian  races.  He  had  wliite  teetli,  sym- 
pathetic lips,  the  neck  well  set  upon  powerful  shoulders, 
and  notwithstanding  his  height  of  five  feet  nine  inches 
(I^'rench),  the  hand  and  foot  of  a  woman.  His  foot  in  par- 
ticular was  the  despair  of  his  mistresses,  whose  slippers  he 
was  rarely  unable  to  wear.  At  the  epoch  of  his  marriage^ 
hia  calf  ivaa  exactly  the  size  of  my  VLoiher''s  waist.    His  wild 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  305 

mode  of  living  in  the  colonies  had  developed  his  address  and 
his  strength  in  an  extraordinary  manner.  He  was  a  regular 
American  cavalier,  a  Guacho.  With  gun  or  pistol,  he  did 
wonders  of  whicli  St.  Georges  and  Junot  were  jealous.  As 
to  his  muscular  force,  it  had  become  proverbial  in  the  army. 
More  than  once,  he  mnused  himself  in  the  riding  school, 
ivhilst  passing  under  a  beam,  by  taking  this  beam  between 
his  arms,  and  lifting  his  horse  of  the  ground  betiveen  his 
legs.  I  have  seen  him  (and  I  recollect  the  circumstance 
with  all  the  excitement  of  childhood)  carry  two  men  upright 

on  his  bent  leg  and  hop  witli  them  across  the  room 

Dr.  Ferus,  who  served  under  my  father,  has  frequently  re- 
lated to  me  that,  on  the  evening  of  his  arrival  to  join  the 
Army  of  the  Alps,  he  saw  by  the  fire  of  a  bivouac  a  soldier 
who,  amongst  other  feats  of  strength,  was  amusing  himself 
by  inserting  his  finger  in  the  barrel  of  a  musket  and  raising 
it,  not  at  arm's  length,  but  at  finger's  length.  A  man 
wrapped  in  a  cloak  mixed  with  the  spectators  and  looked  on 
like  the  rest,  till  smiling  and  throwing  off  his  cloak,  he  said, 
"  Not  bad  that;  now  bring  me  four  muskets."  They  obeyed, 
for  they  had  recognised  the  <jreneral-in-Chief.  He  then  in- 
serted his  four  fingers  in  the  four  barrels,  and  lifted'  the  four 
muskets  with  the  same  ease  with  which  the  soldier  had 
lifted  one.  P'erus,  when  he  told  me  this  anecdote,  was  still 
at  a  loss  to  comprehend  how  a  man's  muscles  could  raise 
such  a  weight.' 

We  are  as  much  at  a  loss  as  the  Doctor  ;  but  further 
marvels  are  to  come  : — 

'  During  one  of  the  General's  Italian  campaigns,  the  sol- 
diers were  forbidden  to  leave  the  camp  without  their  side- 
arms  under  pain  of  forty-eight  hours'  arrest.  My  father  was 
passing  on  horseback,  when  he  met  Pere  Moulin,  since 
maitre  dliMel  at  the  Palais-Royal,  who,  at  this  period,  was  a 
tall  and  fine  young  man  of  twenty-five.  Unluckily  this  tall 
and  fine  young  man  had  no  sword  by  his  side.  On  seeing  my 
father  he  set  off  on  a  run  to  gain  a  cross  street ;  but  my  father, 
who  had  cauglit  sight  of  tlie  fugitive  and  guessed  the  cause 
of  his  flight,  put  his  horse  to  the  gallop,  overtook  him,  and 
exclaiming,  "So,  rascal,  you  arc  resolved  to  get  yourself  assas- 
sinated ; "  collared  him,  and  lifting  him  from  the  ground, 

VOL.    I.  X 


30G  ALEXANDER    DUMAS. 

without  pressing  or  slackening  the  pace  of  his  horse,  my 
father  carried  the  man  thus  in  his  talons  as  a  hawk  carries  a 
lark,  till,  finding  a  corps  de  garde  on  his  way,  he  threw 
Moulin  towards  them,  exclaiming,  "  Forty-eight  hours'  arrest 
for  that ."  ' 

The  foUowiug  incident  may  serve  to  convey  a  notion 
of  the  manner  in  \vhich  the  General's  personal  prowess 
was  exhibited  against  the  enemy  in  the  field  : — 

'  It  was  at  ]\Iauldi  that  my  father  found  the  first  opportu- 
nity of  distinguishing  himself.  Commanding  as  brigadier  a 
look-out  party  composed  of  fom-  dragoons,  he  unexpectedly 
fell  in  with  an  enemy's  patrol  composed  of  thirteen  Tyi'olese 
chasseurs  and  a  corporal.  To  see  and,  notwithstanding  the 
disparity  of  numbers,  cliarge  them,  was  the  affair  of  an  in- 
stant. The  Tyrolese,  who  did  not  expect  this  sudden  attack, 
retreated  into  a  small  meadow  surrounded  by  a  ditch  wide 
enough  to  stop  cavalry.  But,  as  I  have  already  observed, 
my  father  was  an  excellent  horseman ;  and  he  was  on  an  ex- 
cellent horse  called  Joseph.  He  gathered  up  the  reins,  gave 
Joseph  his  head,  cleared  the  ditch  like  i\I.  de  Montmorency, 
and  found  himself  in  an  instant  in  the  midst  of  the  thirteen 
chasseurs,  who,  stupified  by  such  hardihood,  presented  their 
arms  and  sm-rendered.  The  conqueror  collected  the  thirteen 
rifles  into  a  single  bundle,  placed  them  on  his  saddle-bow, 
compelled  the  thirteen  men  to  move  up  to  his  four  dragoons, 
who  remained  on  the  other  side  of  the  ditch  which  they  had 
been  unable  to  clear,  and  having  repassed  the  ditch  the  last 
man,  he  brought  his  prisoners  to  head-quarters.  Prisoners 
were  rare  at  this  time.  The  appearance  of  four  men  bring- 
ing in  thirteen  produced  a  lively  sensation  in  the  camp.' 

This  we  can  well  believe,  and  we  know  of  no  parallel 
for  the  exploit  except  that  of  the  Iiishman,  who,  single- 
handed,  took  four  Frenchmen  prisoners  by  surrounding 
them  ;  or  tliat  of  Sir  Frizzle  Pumpkin,  to  whom  a 
squadron  of  cavalry  surrendered  at  discretion  on  his 
coming  suddenly  upon  them  in  a  woody  defde  when 
he  was  consulting  his  personal  safety  by  flight. 

If  an  English  writer  were  to  begin  in  this  fashion, 


ALEXAJfDER   DUMAS.  307 

his  countrymen  would  most  assuredly  set  him  down 
for  a  rival  of  Munchausen,  and  haply  hold  themselves 
excused  from  attaching  any  serious  importance  to  his 
future  revelations,  real  or  pretended.  But  in  the  case 
of  a  vivacious  Frenchman,  ample  allowance  must  be 
made  for  a  national  habit  which  we  would  rather  ex- 
emplify by  instances  than  characterise  in  |)lain  language. 
If  M.  Lamartine  occasionally  laid  himself  oj)en  to 
censure  by  indiscretion,  he  rendered  invaluable  services 
to  the  cause  of  peace  and  order  by  his  courage  and 
presence  of  mind  at  an  extremely  critical  period  in 
1848  ;  and  the  praise  of  high-minded  and  unswerving 
integrity  has  been  unanimously  conceded  to  him.  It  is 
impossible  to  suspect  such  a  man  of  wilful  or  conscious 
departure  from  veracity,  and  we  may  therefore  cite  the 
Waterloo  chapter  of  his  '  History  of  the  Eestoration  * 
as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  examples  on  record  of 
the  predominance  of  imagination  over  judgment  in  a 
Frenchman.^  M.  Thiers's  account  of  the  battle  of 
Trafalgar  is  substantially  as  much  at  variance  with 
both  fact  and  probability,  though  not  quite  so  extrava- 
gant on  the  face  of  it,  as  M.  Lamartine's  '  Waterloo.' 
The  extraordinary  fictions  to  which  French  ministers 
and  generals  habitually  resorted  during  the  late  war  to 
keep  up  the  spirits  of  the  people  and  the  troops,  mi§t 
be  fresh  in  the  recollection  of  our  readers.  There  was 
not  a  pin  to  choose  between  the  expiring  Em])ire,  the 
government  of  National  Defence,  or  the  government  of 
the  National  Assembly,  in  this  respect.  No  sooner  had 
M.  Thiers  got  together  the  semblance  of  an  army,  than 
he  declared  it  to  be  the  finest  army  ever  possessed  by 
France ;  and  when,  after  several  daj^s  of  desultory 
street  fighting,  he  had  worn  out  rather  than  conquered 
the  armed  rabble  of  the  capital,  he  proclaimed  that 
the  whole  world  was  lost  in  admiration  at  the  splendour 

1  Ante,  p.  J38. 
X  2 


308  ALEXANDER    DUMAS. 

of  his  victory  and  the  irresistible  prowess  of  French 
troops. 

If  we  recall  attention  to  this  national  weakness,  it  is 
simply  for  the  purpose  of  suggesting  that  we  cannot 
throw  aside  Dumas  as  unworthy  of  further  notice  by 
reason  of  his  tendency  to  exaggeration,  without  laying 
down  a  rule  wliicli  nuist  prove  fatal  to  the  reputation 
of  the  most  distinguished  of  his  countrymen.  Fortu- 
nately, too,  the  value  of  his  '  Memoirs  '  consists  princi- 
pally in  anecdotes  and  revelations  which  may  be  easily 
verified  by  accessible  evidence,  or  in  views,  reflections, 
and  criticisms  based  upon  patent  and  acknowledged 
facts.  With  regard  to  the  alleged  events  of  liis  boy- 
hood, we  are  inclined  to  assume  his  general  acciu^acy, 
because  we  are  utterly  at  a  loss  to  see  what  motive  he 
could  have  in  inventing  or  colouring  stories,  most  of 
which  are  by  no  means  flattering  to  his  self-love.  He 
frankly  tells  us  that  he  was  bred  up  in  poverty  in  a 
l)etty  provincial  town  by  a  doting  mother,  whose 
fondness,  w^e  must  do  him  the  justice  to  add,  he  uni- 
formly repays  by  the  most  affectionate  and  luiremitting 
solicitude  for  her  feelings  and  comforts.  Indeed,  the 
endeaiing  and  ennoblirifr  sentiment  of  filial  love 
breathes  throughout  the  whole  of  his  family  details  as 
freshly  and  naturally  as  in  Moore's  Diary,  thereby 
affording  another  striking  proof  that  real  goodness  of 
heart  may  co-exist  with  a  more  than  ordinary  degree 
of  vanity  and  self-consciousness,  even  when  pampered 
by  flattery  and  inflated  by  success. 

Dumas's  master-passion  from  boyhood  was  the  chase, 
or,  more  correctly  speaking,  la  chas8e,  which  means 
something  widely  different  from  the  corresponding 
word  iji  English.  One  of  the  first  official  notices  that 
meets  the  eye  on  the  wooden  pier  or  laiiding-[)lace  at 
Calais  is,  '  //  est  defendu  de  chasser  sur  les  ponts,'  a 
])uzzliiig  intimation  to  sportsmen  who  are  not  aware 
that  almost  everything  that  runs  or  flies  is  the  legiti- 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  309 

mate  object  of  la  chasse  in  France.  All  is  game  that 
comes  to  the  Gallic  sportsman's  bag.  He  does  not 
despise  a  tomtit  or  yellow-hammer;  he  regards  a  thrush 
as  a  prize,  and  he  ruthlessly  exults  over  the  broken 
wing  of  a  cock-robin  or  rouge-gorge.  The  Calais  notice 
is  especially  addressed  to  sportsmen  in  pursuit  of  mud- 
larks. One  of  the  most  amusing  stories  composed  or 
stolen  (the  fact  is  disputed)  by  Dumas,  is  '  La  Chasse 
au  Chastre,'  in  which  he  depicts  the  trials  and  perils 
into  which  a  worthy  professor  of  music  is  hurried  by 
the  reckless  pursuit  of  a  field-fare.  lie  best  can  paint 
it  who  has  felt  it  most  and  Dumas  is  confessedly  tlie 
chronicler  of  his  own  sensations  in  this  book.  Although 
he  rose  in  time  to  the  dignity  of  a  regular  poacher, 
and  made  unlawful  prize  of  any  stray  hare  or  partridge 
that  came  within  range,  he  dwells  with  unrestrained 
rapture  upon  the  dehghts  of  the  day  when  a  friendly 
neighbour  gave  him  leave  to  shoot  larks  upon  a  strictly 
preserved  common.  We  also  learn  from  his  lively 
sketch  of  his  first  visit  to  Paris,  that  he  undertook  it  in 
well-founded  reliance  on  his  skill  as  a  sportsman  for 
supplying  the  ways  and  means  of  the  expedition.  It 
was  in  1822,  when  he  was  in  his  twentieth  year,  that 
this  expedition  was  thus  conceived  and  arranged  in 
the  com-se  of  a  walk  with  a  friend,  a  notary's  clerk 
like  himself. 

'  "  All,"  I  exclaimed,  «  an  idea ! "  "  \Mmt  is  it  ?  "— "  Let  us 
go  and  spend  three  days  at  Paris."  "  And  your  office  ?" — "  iM. 
Lefevre  (his  master)  himself  starts  for  Paris  to-morrow.  He 
commonly  stays  away  two  or  three  days ;  in  two  or  three 
days  we  shall  be  back."  Paillot  felt  in  his  pockets,  and 
pulled  out  twenty-eight  francs.  "  Behold,"  said  he,  "  all  I 
possess !  And  you  ?  " — "  I  have  seven  francs."  "  Twenty- 
eight  and  seven  make  thirty-five.  How  do  you  suppose  we 
are  to  reach  Paris  with  that  ?  There  is  thirty  francs  for 
coach-liire  to  begin." — "  Stop  a  minute,  I  have  a  way." 
"What?"— "You  have  a  horse?"  "Yes."— "We  pack 
our  clothes  in  a  portmanteau,  we  take  our  shooting-jackets 


310  ALEXANDER   DUMAS. 

and  our  gun?,  and  we  shoot  as  we  go ;  we  eat  our  game  on 
the  journey,  and  we  spend  nothing."  "  How  is  that  to  be 
managed?" — "Nothing  easier:  between  this  and  Dam- 
martin,  for  example,  we  shall  kill  a  hare,  two  partridges, 
and  a  quail."  "  I  hope  we  shall  kill  more  than  that." — 
"  And  so  do  I,  but  I  take  the  lowest  estimate.  We  arrive 
at  Dammartin  ;  we  dress  and  eat  our  hare ;  we  pay  our  wine, 
our  bread,  and  our  salt  with  the  two  partridges,  and  we  give 
the  quail  to  tlie  waiter.  We  have  notliing  then  to  provide 
for  but  your  horse,  which  may  be  well  done  for  three  francs 
a  day." 

'  "  But  we  have  only  one  gun  ?  " — •'  It  is  all  we  want ; 
one  of  us  will  shoot,  the  other  will  follow  on  horse- 
back. In  this  manner,  it  being  sixteen  leagues  to  Paris, 
we  shall  have  only  eight  leagues  each."  "  And  the  game- 
keepers ?" — "  Ah,  a  precious  obstacle  !  The  one  of  us  who 
is  on  horseback  descries  them  at  a  distance ;  he  gives  due 
warning  to  the  one  who  is  shooting.  The  horseman  dis- 
mounts, the  sportsman  mounts  and  gallops  off  the  beat.  As 
for  the  dismounted  horseman,  the  keeper  overtakes  him, 
and  finds  him  strolling  along  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
'  What  are  you  doing  here  ? ' — '  I !  you  see  what  I  am  doing.' 
'  Xever  mind,  let  us  hear.' — '  I  am  taking  a  Avalk.'  '  Just 
now  you  were  on  horseback.' — '  Well,  is  it  contrary  to  law 
to  take  a  walk  after  a  ride  ? '  '  No,  but  you  were  not  alone.' 
— '  That  may  be.'  '  Your  companion  was  shooting.' — '  You 
don't  say  so.'  '  He  is  down  there  on  horseback  with  his 
gun.' — '  If  so,  run  after  him  and  try  to  catcli  him.'  '  But  I 
can't  i-un  after  him  and  catch  him,  since  he  is  on  horseback 
and  I  am  on  foot.' — '  In  this  case,  my  friend,  your  better 
course  would  be  to  go  to  the  first  village  and  drink  our 
health.'  Whereupon  we — you  or  I — give  him  a  franc,  which 
is  set  down  to  our  account  of  profit  and  loss  ;  the  keeper 
makes  his  bow,  and  we  continue  our  journey."  "  Well,  well," 
exclaimed  Paillot,  "that  is  not  badly  imagined.  I  had  hoard 
that  you  had  tried  your  hand  at  play-writing."  "  It  is  pre- 
cisely to  see  Leuven  on  the  subject  of  my  attempts  in  this 
line  that  I  wish  to  go  to  Paris."    "  Well,  once  at  Paris "  ' 

Tbe  scheme  was  forthwith  put  in  practice.  They 
started  the  same  evening  for  IViris,  where  they  arrived 
the  niglit  following,  with  four  liares,  twelve  partridges, 


ALEX.\NDER   DUMAS.  311 

and  two  quails,  for  wliicli  tlie  landlord  of  an  hotel  in 
the  Eue  des  Vieux  Aiigustins  agrees  to  lodge  and 
board  them  for  two  days  and  present  them  with  a  pate 
and  a  bottle  of  wine  at  parting.  Dumas's  grand  object 
was  to  see  Talma,  and  his  first  visit  is  to  a  literary 
friend,  who  introduces  him  to  the  great  actor  at  his 
toilette  : — 

'  Tiiima  \vas  very  shortsighted.  I  do  not  know  whether 
he  saw  me  or  not.  He  was  washing  his  chest.  His  beard 
was  nearly  all  shaved,  which  particularly  struck  me,  inso- 
much as  I  had  heard  a  dozen  times  that  in  Hamlet  at  the 
appearance  of  the  fatlier's  ghost.  Talma's  liair  was  seen  to 
stand  on  end.  It  must  be  owned  that  the  aspect  of  Talma 
under  these  circumstances  was  far  from  poetical.  However, 
when  he  stood  upright,  when,  with  the  upper  part  of  the 
body  uncovered  and  the  lower  part  enveloped  in  a  kind  of 
large  mantle  of  white  cloth,  he  took  one  of  the  ends  of  this 
mantle  and  drew  it  on  his  shoulder,  so  as  to  half-veil  the 
breast ;  there  was  something  imperial  in  the  movement  that 
made  me  tremble.  Leuven  explained  the  object  of  our 
call.  Talma  took  up  a  kind  of  ancient  stylus,  at  the  end  of 
which  was  a  pen,  and  signed  us  an  entrance  ticket  for  two.' 

What  follows  is  characteristic.  Virgilium  tantum 
vidi ;  and  om-  autobiographer  cannot  t]"ust  his  readers 
to  complete  the  natural  train  of  association,  but  must 
fain  suggest  that  the  first  meeting  between  the  gipat 
actor  and  the  great  dramatist  is  not  to  be  passed  over 
as  an  every-day  occurrence  : — 

'  He  held  out  his  hand  to  me.  I  longed  to  kiss  it.  With 
my  dramatic  notions,  Talma  was  a  god  for  me  ;  an  unknown 
god,  it  is  true — unknown  as  Jupiter  was  to  Semele — but  a 
god  who  appeared  to  me  in  the  morning,  and  was  to  reveal 
himself  to  me  at  eve.  Our  hands  touched.  Oh,  Talma,  if 
you  then  had  had  twenty  years  less,  or  I  twenty  years  more  I 
AH  the  honour  was  for  me.  Talma.  I  knew  the  past ;  you 
could  not  divine  the  futm-e.  If  you  had  been  told.  Talma, 
that  the  hand  you  had  just  clasped  would  wi-ite  sixty  or 
eighty  dramas,  in  each  of  which  you,  wlio  were  looking  out 
for  parts   all   yoiu'   life,  would    liave   fmuid   n  part  that  you 


312  ALEX.\^^)EK  dumas. 

would  have  converted  into  a  marvel,  you  would  hardly  have 
parted  so  easily  with  the  poor  young  man  who  coloiu-ed  up 
to  the  eyes  at  seeing  you,  and  was  proud  of  having  touched 
your  hand.  But  how  could  you  have  seen  this  in  me,  Talma, 
since  I  did  not  see  it  in  myself?' 

An  odd  ebullition  of  the  same  sort  once  exposed 
him  to  a  clever  rebuke,  attributed  to  Madame  Dejazet. 
AiTiving  together  on  a  theatrical  expedition  at  Eouen, 
they  were  requested  by  the  police  to  state  their  respec- 
tive professions.  '  Moi^'  said  Dumas,  '  si  je  iietais  pas 
dans  la  ville  ou  fiit  ne  le  grand  Corjieille,  je  me  nom- 
merais aiiteur  dramatiqiie.^  ^ Et  moi,'  said  Dejazet,  '■si 
je  netais  pas  dans  la  ville  ou  fut  hrulee  Jeanne  dArc^ 
je  me  nommerais  piicelle.'  His  son,  the  author  of  '  La 
Dame  aux  Camelias,'  in  reference  to  his  complexion 
and  his  vanity,  said  of  him  :  '  My  father  is  capable  of 
getting  up  behind  his  own  carriage  to  make  people 
believe  that  he  has  a  man  of  colour  for  footman.' 
Dumas  begins  one  of  his  chapters  thus  : — '  I  know  not 
who — perhaps  myself — ^lias  said  that  the  Revolution  of 
1830  was  the  last  shot  of  Waterloo.  It  is  a  great 
truth.'  Yet  the  graceful  and  truthful  apology  which 
Lord  Russell  has  made  for  Moore's  vanity  may  be  made 
with  equal  justice  for  that  of  Dumas.  It  is  a  frank, 
joyous,  and  cordial  vanity,  without  the  slightest  tinc- 
ture of  envy ;  and,  iav  from  seeking  to  depreciate  his 
distinguished  coijtemporaries,  his  proudest  boast  is  that 
he  has  fairly  earned  a  right  to  be  named  along  with 
them  : — 

'  At  the  epoch  of  my  arrival  in  Paris  (1822),  the  men  who 
lield  a  rank  in  literature,  the  illustrious  amongst  whom  I 
came  to  claim  a  place,  were  Chateaubriand,  Jouy,  Lemercier, 
Arnault,  l^tienne,  Baour-Lorinian,  Beranger,  C.  Nodior, 
Viennet,  >Scrihe,  Theuulon,  Soumet,  Casimir  Delavigne, 
Lucien  Arnault,  Ancelot,  Lamartine,  Victor  Hugo,  Desau- 
gicrs,  and  Alfred  dc  Vigny,  Let  it  be  Avell  iniderstood  that, 
by  the  order  I  assign  tliem,  I  urn  only  naming  not  clastiify- 


ALEX.\.XDEK    DUMAS.  313 

ing  them.  Then  camo  the  lialf-literary  half-political,  as 
Cousin,  Salvandy,  Villemain,  Thiers,  Augustine  Thierry, 
Michelet,  Mignet,  Vitet,  Cave,  Merimee,  and  Guizot.  Lastly, 
those,  who,  not  being  yet  known,  were  to  produce  themselves 
by  degrees,  such  as  Balzac,  Soulie,  De  Musset,  Sainte-Beuve, 
Auguste  Barbier,  Alphonse  Karr,  Theophile  Gautier.  The 
women  in  vogue,  all  three  poets,  were  Mesdames  Desbordes- 
Valmore,  Amable  Tastu,  and  Delphine  Gay.  IMadame  Sand, 
still  unknown,  was  to  be  first  revealed  by  "  Indiana,"  in  1828 
or  1829. 

'  I  believe  I  have  known  all  this  Pleiad,  which  has  supplied 
the  world  of  ideas  and  poetry  for  more  than  half  a  century, 
some  as  friends  and  supporters,  the  others  as  enemies  and 
adversaries.  The  good  the  former  have  done  me,  the  evil 
the  latter  have  attempted  to  do  me,  will  in  no  respect 
influence  the  judgments  I  shall  pass  upon  them.  The 
first,  by  pushing  me  on,  have  not  caused  me  to  make  a 
step  the  more  ;  the  second,  by  trying  to  stop  me,  have  not 
caused  me  to  make  a  step  the  less.  Across  the  friendships, 
the  hates,  the  envies — in  the  midst  of  an  existence  harassed 
in  its  details,  but  always  calm  and  serene  in  its  progression — 
I  have  reached  the  place  that  God  had  marked  out  for  me  ; 
I  have  reached  it  without  intrigue,  without  coterie,  and 
never  elevating  myself  but  by  mounting  on  my  own  works. 
Arrived  where  I  am,  namely,  at  the  summit  which  every  man 
fnnds  at  the  half-way  point  of  life,  I  ask  for  nothing,  wish 
for  nothing.  I  envy  nobody.  I  have  many  friendship^ 
I  have  not  a  single  enmity.  If,  at  my  starting-point, 
God  had  said  to  me,  "  Young  man  what  do  you  desire  ?  "  I 
should  not  have  dared  to  ask  from  his  omnipotent  greatness 
that  which  he  has  been  graciously  pleased  to  grant  me  in 
his  paternal  goodness.  I  shall  say  then  of  these  men  whom 
I  have  named,  so  soon  as  I  meet  them  on  my  road,  all  that 
there  may  be  to  say  of  them  ;  if  I  hide  anything,  it  Nvill  be 
the  ill.  Why  should  I  be  unjust  towards  them  ?  There  is 
not  amongst  them  a  glory  or  a  fortune  for  which  I  liave 
ever  wished  to  change  my  reputation  or  my  purse. 

'  Yesterday  I  read  upon  one  of  the  stones  of  a  house  I  liad 
had  built  for  myself,  and  which,  whilst  waiting  for  me — me 
or  another — has  hitherto  lodged  only  sparrows  and  swallows 
— these  words,  written  by  an  unknown  hand  :  "  0  Dumas  ! 
til  nV(.s  pax  811.  jouAr,  et  poiirtant  tit  regretteras.^'' — E.  L. 


314  ALEXANDER  ^UMAS. 

I  wrote  imder,  "  Xiais  !  si  tn  es  un  homme.  Menteuse  I  si 
tu  es  une  femme.''  A.  D. — But  I  took  good  care  not  to 
efface  the  inscription.' 

It  is  difficult  to  avoid  sympathising  witli  a  man  of 
genius  wlio  pours  forth  his  soul  in  this  fashion,  and 
the  egotism  may  be  pardoned  for  the  sake  of  the 
frankness  and  generosity  of  the  burst.  Neither,  look- 
ing at  the  peculiar  character  of  the  \\Titer,  do  we  deem 
it  clear  that  he  formed  an  erroneous  theory  of  what  is 
called  success  in  Hfe,  or  that  he  had  much  reason  to 
envy  the  majority  of  those  who,  according  to  their 
own  or  the  popular  estimate,  may  have  made  a  better 
use  of  their  opportunities.  Every  reflecting  person 
must  be  the  best  judge  of  what  is 'necessary  to  his  (or 
her)  happiness,  and  Dumas  needed  constant  agitation 
and  excitement,  as  well  as  notoriety.  A  fixed  station, 
a  defined  rank,  nay,  even  an  established  fortune,  would 
have  become  irksome,  fi'etting,  and  galling  incum- 
brances when  the  flush  of  novelty  had  passed  away. 
He  would  have  felt  like  Manon  Lescaut,  when  she  de- 
clared the  conventional  restraints  of  constancy  and 
propriety  insufferable ;  when 

'  Virtue  she  found  too  painful  an  cndoavour, 
Condemned  to  live  in  decencies  for  ever ;' 

or  like  the  opium-eater  when  he  was  put  upon  the 
short  allowance  of  fifty  or  sixty  drops  of  laudanum 
l)er  day ;  or  like  Hemy  Beyle  (Stendhal),  who,  settled 
in  a  comfortable  consulship,  exclaims,  'How  many  cold 
characters,  how  many  geometricians,  would  be  happy, 
or  at  least  tranquil  and  satisfied,  in  my  place  !  Btit 
my  soul  is  a  fire  which  dies  out  if  it  does  not  flame  up.' 
It  was  the  remark  of  an  astute  man  of  the  world, 
that  if  lie  could  choose  and  portion  out  a  new  life,  lie 
would  be  a  hniidsome  womnn  till  thirty,  a  victorious 
gencnil  from  thirty  to  fifty,  and  a  cardinal  (i.e.  a  car- 
dinal of  the  olden  time)  in  his  old  age.     A  Frenchman 


ALEXANDER    DUMAS.  315 

of  the  Eestoration  and  tlic  July  Monarcliy  miglit  liave 
hesitated  between  being  a  victorious  general  or  an 
author  in  renown.  '  Bear  in  mind,'  wrote  Jules  Janin, 
in  1839,  '  that  it  is  now  the  poets,  the  novelists,  the 
dramatists,  the  journalists  in  renown,  that  liave  the 
titles,  the  coat-armour,  the  coronets.  It  is  they  that 
people  press  forward  to  gaze  upon  when  they  enter  a 
room  ;  it  is  they  whose  name  the  very  lacquey  pro- 
nounces with  pride  when  he  announces  them.  Let  a 
Crequi  and  M.  de  Chateaubriand  enter  at  the  same 
time,  and  you  will  see  on  wdiich  side  all  heads  and  all 
hearts  will  incline  first.  Announce  M.  le  Due  de 
Montmorency  and  M.  de  Balzac,  and  everybody  will 
look  first  at  M.  de  Balzac'  Under  similar  circum- 
stances all  eyes  would  have  been  turned  towards  Alex- 
andre Dumas  ;  and  when  we  reflect  that  wdiat  the 
majority  of  the  w^orld  are  striving  for  is  to  be  distin- 
guished amongst  their  fellows — quod  monstrer  digito 
prcetereuntium — there  is  little  room  for  surprise  that 
he  should  have  found  ample  compensation  for  all  his 
labours  and  all  his  trials  in  his  fame. 

We  left  him  exulting  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Talma 
act,  and  for  once  the  reality  did  not  fall  short  of  the 
exj^ectation.  The  play  was  '  Sylla,'  one  great  attra(^ 
tion  of  which  consisted  in  the  analogy  in  the  hero's 
fortunes,  as  depicted  by  the  author  of  the  piece,  to 
those  of  Napoleon  I.  After  the  performance,  Dumas 
was  taken  to  see  Talma  in  his  dressing-room,  which  he 
found  crowded  with  notabilities  : — 

'  Talma  caught  sight  of  me  near  the  door.  "  Ah,  ah,"  he 
said,  "  come  forward."  I  advanced  two  steps  nearer.  "  Well, 
Mr.  Poet,"  he  continued,  "  are  you  satisfied  ?" — "  Better  than 
that,  I  am  lost  in  wonder."  "  Well,  you  must  come  and  see 
me  again,  and  ask  me  for  more  tickets." — "  Alas,  I  leave  Paris 
to-morrow,  or  the  day  after  at  latest."  "  That's  unlucky,  you 
would  have  seen  me  in  Ref/ulus.  You  know  that  I  have 
made  them  fix  Regulus  for  the  day  after  to-morrow,  Lucien 


316  ALEXANDER    DUMAS. 

(Arnault,  the  author)  ?" — "Yes,  I  thank  you,"  said  Lucien. 
"  What,  you  cannot  stay  till  the  day  after  to-morrow  ? " — 
"  Impossible,  I  must  return  to  the  country."  "  What  is  your 
employment  in  the  country  ?" — "  I  dare  not  tell  you.  I  am 
clerk  to  a  notary."  "  Bah,"  said  Talma,  "  you  must  not 
despair  on  that  account.  Corneille  was  clerk  to  a  procureur. 
Grentlemen,  I  present  a  future  Corneille!"  I  coloured  to 
the  eyes.  "  Touch  my  forehead,"  I  said,  "  it  will  bring  me 
luck."  Talma  placed  his  hand  upon  my  head.  "  Come 
then,"  said  he,  "  so  be  it.  Alexandre  Dumas,  I  baptize  thee 
poet  in  the  name  of  Shakespeare,  Corneille,  and  Schiller  ! 
Eetum  to  the  country ;  resume  your  place  in  your  office, 
and  if  thou  hast  verily  the  vocation,  the  angel  of  poetry 
will  take  care  to  find  thee  wherever  thou  art,  to  carry  thee 
off  by  the  hair  of  the  head  like  the  prophet  Habakkuk,  and 
to  carry  thee  where  thou  hast  work  to  do."  I  seized  his 
hand,  which  I  tried  to  carry  to  my  lips.  ^^  A  lions,  allons,^^ 
he  exclaimed,  "  this  lad  has  enthusiasm ;  we  shall  make 
something  of  him,"  and  he  shook  me  cordially  by  the  hand.' 

So  ended  this  memorable  interview,  and  Dumas 
returns  to  his  province  and  his  desk  in  a  very  bad 
mood  for  copying  deeds  or  serving  processes.  His 
master  probably  saw  that  the  embryo  poet  was  likely 
to  make  a  bad  clerk  ;  for  Dumas  immediately  received 
warning  that  his  futm'e  services  would  not  be  needed, 
and  he  forthwith  set  about  the  requisite  preparations 
for  the  definitive  transfer  of  his  household  gods  to  the 
capital.  Tlie  want  of  money  was  tlie  grand  difiiculty. 
He  owed  150  francs  to  his  tailor,  and  all  his  availal)le 
assets  consisted  of  a  dog  named  Pyramus,  famous  for 
voracity.  This  is  not  the  precise  quality  which  com- 
mends or  adds  value  to  an  animal  of  the  canine  species, 
yet  it  ])roved  the  salvation  of  Dumas.  His  dog  had 
left  liini  to  follow  a  butcher  loaded  witli  lialf  a  sheep, 
and  he  was  in  the  very  act  of  vainly  endeavouring  to 
])arry  the  demands  of  the  tailor,  when  lie  was  informed 
that  an  Englishman  requested  llie  liouour  of  his 
company  at  a  neighl)ouriiig  iiui.  On  repairing  (liither, 
lie  Hml^  ;i  ni;in,  'from  foitv  lo  tortv-five  years  of  age. 


ALEXANDER    DUMAS.  317 

of  a  reddish  fair  complexion,  \vitli  liair  like  a  brush, 
and  whiskers  shaped  like  a  collar,  dressed  in  a  blue 
coat  with  metal  buttons,  a  shaniois  waistcoat,  and  grey 
kerseymere  breeches,  with  gaiters  to  match,  such  as 
are  worn  by  grooms.  lie  was  seated  before  a  table 
on  whicli  he  had  just  been  dining,  and  which  exhi- 
bited the  remains  of  a  dinner  for  six.  lie  might  weigh 
from  three  hundred  to  three  hundred  and  sixty  pounds.' 
Seated  near  him,  with  a  depressed  look,  was  Pyramus ; 
and  around  Pyramus  lay  ten  or  a  dozen  plates,  cleaned 
with  that  neatness  which  characterised  him  in  respect 
to  dirty  plates.  On  one,  however,  lay  some  uniinished 
morsels.  It  was  evidently  these  that  caused  the  de- 
pression of  Pyramus.  '  Venez  parler  a  moa^  Mon- 
sieur^' said  the  Englishman  ;  '  Le  Dog  a  vos,  il  plait  a 
moa."  From  a  dialogue  thus  commenced  and  carried 
on  in  the  same  dialect  by  the  stranger,  we  learn  that 
the  dog's  power  of  eating  had  won  his  heart.  '  Je  aime, 
moa,'  he  exclaims,  '  les  animals  et  les  gens  qui  mange 
heaucoup ;  cest  qitil  ont  un  bon  estomac,  et  le  bon 
estomac  il  faise  le  bon  humour.' 

Our  sagacious  compatriot,  it  will  be  observed,  differed 
slightly  from  Lord  Byron,  who  envies  and  commends 
the  crifted  mortals  who  have  a  bad  heart  and  a  good 
stomach,  who  feel  little  and  digest  well.  But  so  mucli 
the  better  for  Dumas,  who,  after  a  hard  internal  strug- 
gle with  his  conscience  which  is  hushed  by  an  oppor- 
tune reminiscence  of  the  dun,  agrees  to  part  with  his 
fom'-footed  friend  for  the  moderate  sum  of  five  napo- 
leons, only  a  third  of  the  price  which  the  fat  English- 
man was  anxious  to  force  upon  him. 

This  anecdote  is  an  apt  illustration  of  the  manner  in 
which  Dumas  and  other  popular  French  authors  perse- 
veringly  foster  the  prejudices  of  their  countrymen. 
The  fat  and  fair  Englishman,  with  his  broken  French 
and  ridiculous  eccentricity,  still  keeps  his  place  in  their 
light   literature   and   on  their  stage ;  although  nearly 


318  ALEXAXDER    DUMAS. 

lialf  a  century  has  elapsed  since  we,  on  this  side  of 
the  Channel,  ceased  to  believe  in  brown  and  lean 
marquises  living  on  frogs  and  soupe  maigre,  taldng 
enoiinous  quantities  of  snufF,  wearing  collars  or  shirt 
fronts  for  want  of  shurts,  and  gaining  a  scanty  livelihood 
as  fiddlers  or  dancing-masters.  A  still  longer  period 
has  elapsed  since  we  tolerated,  even  in  a  Fielding  or  a 
Smollett,  the  coarseness  of  expression  which  has  little, 
if  at  all,  lessened  the  popularity  or  impeded  the  circu- 
lation of  '  Paul  de  Kock,'  although  the  more  fastidious 
portion  of  the  Parisian  public  may  disdainfully  set  down 
his  works  as  '  la  leciiire  des  grisettes.'  These  very 
memoh's  are  occasionally  defaced  by  expressions  and 
allusions  for  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  parallel 
in  any  respectable  English  publication  of  later  date  than 
the  editions  of  Pope  containing  the  Poisoning  and  the 
Circumcision  of  Edmund  Curll. 

Relieved  fi'om  difficulty  by  his  dog,  like  Wliittington 
by  his  cat,  our  hero  is  preparing  to  start  for  Paris. 
The  five  napoleons  having  been  reduced  one-half  by  a 
payment  on  account  to  the  tailor,  he  hits  upon  an  inge- 
nious expedient  for  defraying  the  expenses  of  his  journey. 
lie  plays  billiards  with  the  bookkeeper  of  the  diligence 
for  a  petit  verre  d'absinthe  a  game,  and  leaves  off  the 
winner  of  600  glasses,  which,  at  three  sous  each,  make 
a  total  gain  of  ninety  francs,  enough  to  pay  for  twelve 
places  to  Paris.  He  satisfies  himself  witli  one,  arrives 
on  the  scene  of  his  future  glory  with  his  fifty  francs 
untouched,  and  proceeds  to  look  round  for  a  protector 
amongst  the  old  friends  of  his  father  on  the  strength  of 
his  name.  He  is  coldly  received  by  Marshal  Gourdain, 
and  narrates  as  follows  the  result  of  his  visit  to  Marshal 
(then  General)  Sebastiani : — 

'  The  General  was  in  liis  cabinet ;  at  tlie  four  corners  of 
til  is  cabinet  were  four  secretaries,  as  at  the  four  corners  of 
our  almanack  are  the  four  points  of  the  compass  or  the  four 
win  Is.     These  four  secretaries  were  writin<r  to  his  dictation. 


ALEX.\NDER    DUMAR.  819 

It  was  three  less  than  Cicsar,  but  two  mure  tlian  Napoleon. 
Each  of  these  secretaries  had  on  liis  desk — besides  liis  pen, 
his  paper,  and  his  penknife — a  gold  snuff-box  whicli  he  pre- 
sented open  to  the  General,  each  time  that  the  latter  stopped 
before  him.  Tlie  General  delicately  introduced  the  fore- 
finger and  thumb  of  a  hand  that  his  half-cousin  Napoleon 
would  have  envied  for  its  whiteness,  voluptuously  inhaled 
the  scent,  and  then  resumed  his  walk.  My  visit  was  short. 
Whatever  my  consideration  for  the  General,  I  felt  little 
disposed  to  become  a  snuff-box  bearer.' 

He  is  coolly  bowed  out  by  another  military  friend  of 
his  father,  and  calls,  as  a  last  resource,  on  General 
Foy,  to  whom  lie  has  fortunately  the  additional  recom- 
mendation of  being  the  friend  and  protege  of  one  of  tlie 
General's  most  induential  constituents.  His  reception 
was  favourable,  and  the  following  colloquy  takes 
place  : — 

'  "  I  must  first  know  what  you  are  good  for." — "  Oh,  not 
much."  "Of  course  you  know  a  little  mathematics?" — 
"No,  General."  "  You  have  at  least  some  notions  of 
algebra,  of  geometry,  of  physics  ? "  He  paused  between 
each  word,  and  at  each  word  I  felt  myself  colouring  more 
and  more.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  was  placed  face  to 
face  with  my  ignorance. — "  No,  General,"  I  replied,  stam- 
mering, "  I  know  none  of  these."  "  You  have  gone  through 
your  law  course,  at  all  events?" — "No,  GeneraL"  "Y#u 
know  Latin  and  Greek  ?  " — "  Latin,  a  little  :  Greek,  not  a 
word."  "  Do  you  speak  any  living  language  ?  " — "  Italian." 
"  Do  you  understand  accounts  ?  " — "  Not  at  all."     I  was  in 

torture,  and  he  suffered  visibly  on  my  account "  And 

yet,"  he  resumed,  "  I  am  unwilling  to  abandon  you." — "  No, 
General,  for  you  would  not  abandon  me  only.  I  am  a  dunce, 
an  idler,  it  is  true  ;  but  my  mother,  who  reckons  upon  me, 
whom  I  have  promised  to  find  a  place, — my  mother  ought 
not  to  be  punished  for  my  ignorance  and  my  idleness."  "  Give 
me  your  address,"  said  the  General,  "  I  will  consider  what  can 
be  made  of  you.  There,  at  this  desk."  He  offered  me  the 
pen  with  which  he  had  been  writing.  I  took  it,  I  looked  at 
it,  wet  as  it  still  was ;  then,  shaking  my  head,  I  returned  it 
to  him. — "  No,  General,"  I  said,  "  I  will  not  write  with  your 


320  ALEXANDER   DUMAS. 

pen ;  it  would  be  a  profanation."  He  smiled.  "  What  a 
child  you  are,"  he  continued.  "  Here  then  is  a  new  one." 
I  began  to  write,  with  the  Greneral  looking  on.  Hardly  had 
I  written  my  name  than  he  clapped  his  hands.  "  We  are 
saved,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  write  a  good  hand."  My  head 
dropped  upon  my  breast — I  had  no  longer  strength  to  bear 
up  against  my  shame.  A  good  handwriting :  this  was  the 
sum  total  of  my  qualifications.  This  brevet  of  incapacity, 
oh  !  it  was  mine  beyond  dispute.' 

This  brevet  of  incapacity,  however,  has  been  pos- 
sessed by  a  large  majority  of  the  most  illustrious  men 
of  all  ages,  and  it  is  only  within  the  century  that  per- 
sons of  superior  education  have  deemed  themselves 
licensed  to  indulge  in  an  inconvenient  and  selfish  de- 
gree of  negligence  in  this  respect.  It  will  appear  from 
any  good  collection  of  autographs  that,  if  our  ancestors 
were  deficient  in  orthography,  they  were  proficients 
in  caligraphy,  and  that  they  became  comparatively 
careless  as  to  their  penmanship  about  the  time  when 
they  began  to  pay  strict  attention  to  their  spelling.  In 
particular,  they  invariably  made  a  point  of  signing  their 
names  clearly  and  distinctly,  in  marked  contrast  to  the 
modern  fashion,  which  often  renders  it  impossible  to  do 
more  than  guess  at  the  identity  of  a  correspondent.  In 
the  round-robin  addressed  to  Dr.  Johnson  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Goldsmith's  epitaph  (a  facsimile  of  which  is  given 
by  Boswell),  the  names  of  the  most  distinguished  mal- 
contents— Gibbon,  Burke,  Sheridan,  Colman,  Joseph 
Warton,  Reynolds,  &c. — although  afllxed  at  the  dinner- 
table,  bear  no  marks  of  haste  or  slovenliness  ;  and 
amongst  the  French  authors  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
the  two  most  remarkal^le  for  the  excellence  of  their 
liandwriting  were  Voltaire  and  Eousseau. 

The  press  of  public  business  may  be  alleged  as  some 
excuse  for  statesmen ;  whilst  the  hurry  and  flutter  of 
composition  may  account  for  the  bad  writing  of  {loets" 
and  authors  of  the  imnginative  class.     When  Nai)oleon 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  321 

first  attained  power,  liis  signatm-e  was  of  the  orthodox 
length  and  character ;  it  gradually  shrank  to  the  three 
first  letters  (Nap.);  and  later  in  his  career  it  consisted 
of  a  dash  or  scrawl  intended  for  an  N.  Byron  latterly 
wrote  a  sad  scrawl.  Yet  against  these  great  names 
may  be  placed  Washington,  Wellington,  Pitt,  Fox, 
Canning,  Peel,  Moore,  Rogers,  Scott,  Coleridge,  Words- 
worth, and  a  host  of  famous  contemporaries,  whose 
example,  we  hope,  will  save  both  '  young  France '  and 
'  young  England '  from  the  mischievous  error  of  ever 
again  regarding  an  eminently  useful  and  becoming 
acconij^lishment  as  a  '  brevet  of  incapacity.' 

On  the  strength  of  his  handwritinf^  Dumas  is  received 
into  the  establishment  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  (after- 
wards King  of  the  French)  as  a  clerk  at  sixty  pounds  a 
year,  and  is  singularly  fortunate  in  finding  amongst  his 
companions  of  tlie  desks  one  duly  qualified  to  give  him 
some  excellent  advice  as  to  his  literary  projects.  We 
shall  quote  the  best  of  it,  the  rather  that  we  suspect 
Dumas  of  having  placed  the  results  of  his  own  studies 
and  experience  in  the  mouth  of  his  friend  : 

'  "  Whom  then  ouglit  one  to  imitate  in  comedy,  tragedy, 
the  drama?"  "  In  the  first  place,  you  ought  not  to  imitate 
at  all :  you  must  study.  He  who  follows  a  guide  muffc 
necessarily  walk  behind.  Do  you  wish  to  walk  behind  ? " 
— "  No."  "  Then  study.  Write  neither  comedy,  nor  tragedy, 
nor  drama ;  take  the  passions,  the  events,  the  characters  ; 
melt  them  all  together  in  the  mould  of  your  imagination, 
and  make  statues  of  Corinthian  brass."  "  What  is  Corinthian 
brass  ?  "  "  You  do  not  know  ?  " — "  I  know  nothing."  "  You 
are  lucky."  "  In  what  respect  ?  "  "  Because  you  -\vi  11  learn 
all  by  yourself;  because  you  will  undergo  no  levelling  process 
but  that  of  your  own  intelligence,  no  rule  but  that  of  your 
own  capacity  for  instruction.  Corinthian  brass  ?  You  must 
have  heard  that  once  upon  a  time  Mummius  burned  Corinth. 
If  so,  you  may  have  read  that  from  the  heat  of  the  con- 
flagration, gold,  silver,  and  bra^■s  had  been  melted  and  ran 
in  streams  through  the  streets.  Now,  the  mixture  of  these 
VOL.    I.  Y 


822  ALEX.\NDEK    DU.MAS. 

three  metals,  the  most  precious  of  all,  formed  a  compound 
metal,  which  was  called  Corinthian  brass.  Well,  he  who 
shall  effect,  by  his  genius,  for  comedy,  tragedy,  and  the 
drama,  that  which,  imconsciously,  in  his  ignorance,  in  his 
barbarism,  Mummius  did  for  gold,  silver,  and  bronze, — he 
who  shall  melt  by  the  fire  of  inspiration,  and  melt  in  a  single 
mould,  ^^schylus,  Shakspeare,  and  Moliere, — he,  my  friend, 
>vill  have  discovered  a  brass  as  precious  as  the  brass  of 
Corinth." 

'  I  reflected  a  moment  on  what  Lapagne  had  said.  "  What 
you  tell  me,"  I  replied,  "  is  very  fine ;  and  as  it  is  fine  it 
ought  to  be  true."  "  Are  you  acquainted  with  ^Eschylus  ?  " 
— "  No."  "  Shakspeare  ?  "— "  No."  "  Moliere  ?  "— "  Hardly." 
"Well  then,  read  all  that  these  three  have  written  ;  when  you 
have  read  them,  read  them  a  second  time ;  when  you  have  read 
them  a  second  time,  learn  them  by  heart — and  then — oh, 
then,  you  will  pass  from  them  to  those  who  proceed  from 
them  —  from  ^schylus  to  Sophocles,  from  Sophocles  to 
Kuripides,  from  Euripides  to  Seneca,  from  Seneca  to  Kacine, 
from  Racine  to  Voltaire,  and  from  Voltaire  to  Chenier.  So 
much  for  tragedy.  Thus,  you  will  be  present  at  this  trans- 
formation of  a  race  of  eagles,  ending  in  parrots," 

'  "  And  to  whom  shall  I  pass  from  Shakspeare  ?  " — "  From 
Shakspeare  to  Schiller."  "  And  from  Schiller  ?  " — "  To  no- 
body."  "But  Ducis?"  — "Oh,  don't   let   us   confound 

Schiller  with  Ducis  :  Schiller  draws  inspiration,  Ducis 
imitates ;  Schiller  remains  original :  Ducis  becomes  a 
copyist,  and  a  bad  copyist." 

'  "  Now  for  Moliere  ?  " — "  As  to  Moliere,  if  you  wish  to 
study  something  worth  the  trouble,  instead  of  descending, 
you  will  ascend  from  Moliere  to  Terence,  from  Terence  to 
Plautus,  from  Plautus  to  Aristophanes." 

'"But  Corneille,  you  have  forgotten  him,  I  fancy  ?  " — "  I  do 
not  forget  him,  I  place  him  by  himself,  because  he  is  neither 
an  ancient  Greek,  nor  an  old  Koman.  He  is  a  Cordovan,  like 
Lucan ;  you  will  see,  when  you  compare  them,  that  his  verse 

lias  a  great  resemblance  to  that  of  the  '  Pharsalia.'  " 

****** 

'  "  And  in  romance,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  " — "  Everything, 
as  with  the  theatre."  "  I  believed,  however,  that  we  had 
excellent  romances."  "  What  have  you  read  in  this  line  ?  " 
— "  Those  of  Lesage,  of  Madame  Cottin,  and   of  Pigault- 


ALEXANDER    DUMAS.  323 

Lebrim."  "  What  was  their  effect  on  you  ?  " — "  Those  of 
Lesage  amused  me,  those  of  Madame  Cottin  made  me  shed 
tears,  those  of  Pigault-Lebrun  made  me  laugh."  "  Then 
you  have  read  neither  Groethe,  nor  Walter  Scott,  nor  Cooper  ? 
Read  them." 

' "  And  when  I  have  read  them,  what  am  I  to  make  of 
them  ?  " — "  Corinthian  brass,  as  before  ;  only  you  must  en- 
deavour to  add  a  trifling  ingredient  which  is  to  be  found  in 
neither  one  of  them — passion.  Groethe  will  give  you  poetry, 
Walter  Scott  the  study  of  character.  Cooper  the  mysterious 
grandeur  of  the  prairie,  the  forest,  and  the  ocean ;  but  as  for 
passion,  you  will  seek  for  it  in  vain  in  either  of  them."  ' 

As  an  indispensable  preparation  for  the  historical 
romance,  he  is  told  to  read  Joinville,  Froissart,  Monstre- 
let,  Chatelain,  Juvenal  des  Ursins,  Montluc,  Saulex-Ta- 
vannes,  I'Estoile,  De  Retz,  Saint- Simon,  Villars,  Madame 
de  la  Fayette,  Eichelieu  ;  and  he  then  begs  to  have  a 
course  of  poetic  reading  marked  out  for  him. 

'  "  In  the  first  place,  what  have  you  read  ?  " — "  Voltaire, 
Paruy,  Bertiu,  Demoustier,  Legouve,  Colardeau."  "  Good. 
Forget  the  whole  of  them.  Read,  in  antiquity,  amongst  the 
Romans,  Virgil ;  in  the  middle  age,  Dante.  It  is  living 
marrow  that  I  am  now  prescribing  for  you."  "  And  amongst 
the  moderns  ?  "  —  "  Ronsard,  Mathurin,  Regnier,  Milton, 
Groethe,  Uhland,  Byron,  Lamartine,  Victor  Hugo,  and, 
above  all,  a  little  volume  about  to  appear  entitled  '  Andre 
Ghenier. ' " ' 

Dumas's  first  publication  was  a  volume  containing 
three  novels,  entitled  '  Nouvelles  Contemporaines.'  He 
sold  fom'  copies,  neither  more  nor  less,  and  having 
contributed  300  francs  (bori'owed  money)  towards  the 
printing,  began  to  tm^n  over  in  his  mind  the  suggestions 
of  an  intelligent  publisher  :  '  Make  yourself  a  name  and 
I  will  print  for  you  ' — 

'  There  (he  continues)  was  the  entire  question.  Make 
yourself  a  name.  This  is  the  condition  imposed  on  every 
man  who  ever  made  himself  one.  This  is  the  condition 
which  at  the  moment  when  it  was  imposed  on  him,  he  has 

Y  -I 


324  ALEXANDER   DUMAS. 

asked  himself  despairingly  how  he  was  to  fulfil.  And  yet  he 
has  fulfilled  it.  I  am  no  believer  in  unknown  talent,  in 
undiscovered  genius.  Tliere  were  reasons  for  the  suicide  of 
Escousse  and  Lebras.  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  say — but  neither 
one  nor  the  other  of  these  two  poor  madmen,  if  he  had  lived, 
would  luive  had  at  the  end  of  twenty  years  of  work  the 
reputation  which  the  epitaph  of  Beranger  conferred  upon 
them.^  I  therefore  seriously  set  about  making  myself  a 
name,  to  sell  ni}^  books  and  not  print  them  again  at  half 
profits.' 

It  was  as  cbamatist  tliat  he  was  resolved  to  make  the 
desiderated  name ;  and  the  time  was  singularly  oppor- 
tune, for  the  innovating  and  vivifying  influences  which 
had  transformed  and  elevated  the  literature  of  the  Ee- 
storation  were  on  the  point  of  extending  to  the  stage, 
— that  stage  which  had  survived  the  monarchy,  survived 
the  republic,  sm^vived  the  first  empire,  and  might  have 
survived  the  second  but  for  the  united  and  co-operating 
energies  of  two  master  spirits,  of  ^vhom  Dumas  took 
the  lead.  '  Well,  M.  de  Fontanes,  have  you  found  me 
a  poet  ? '  w^as  the  habitual  demand  of  the  would-be 
Augustus  every  time  he  met  his  improvised  Ma3cenas. 
The  answer  was  uniformly  in  the  negative  :  poetry  could 
not  be  made  to  order ;  poets  wT)uld  not  be  forthcoming, 
like  armed  legions,  at  the  stamp  of  the  iron  heel  of  a 
despot.  Yet  they  began  to  crop  up  abundantly  as  soon 
as  they  were  allowed  to  breathe  freely : . 

'  Their  names  gave  present  promise  of  the  immense  rever- 
beration they  were  to  produce  in  the  future.  Lamartine, 
Hugo,  De  Vigny,  Sainte-Beuve,  Mery,  Scribe,  Barbier, 
Alfred  de  Musset,  l^alzac  —  these  fed  with  their  sap  or 
rather  with  their  blood  that   large   and    unique   spring   of 

*  Escousse  and  Lebras  were  two  young  men  who,  on  the  faihiro  of  a 
Binall  piece  at  a  minor  theatre,  shut  themselves  up  in  a  garret  with  a  pan 
of  charcoal  and  suilbcated  themselves.  Escousse  left  in  prose  and  verse 
pathetic  appeals  to  the  press  to  do  justice  to  his  memory,  and  especially 
to  state  that  '  Escousse  killed  himself  because  ho  felt  his  i)la<;e  was  not 
here,  because  the  love  of  glory  did  not  sulHciently  animate  his  soul,  if  he 
had  a  sun  I.' 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  325 

poetry  at  wliicli  the  whole  nineteenth  century,  France, 
Europe,  the  universe,  were  to  drink.  But  the  movement 
was  not  only  in  this  Pleiad :  an  entire  soldiery  was  engaged, 
co-operating  in  a  general  work  by  particular  attacks :  it  was 
who  should  Latter  the  old  poetry  in  breacli.  Dittmer  and  Cave 
published  the  "  Soirees  de  Neuilly  ;  "  Vitot,  the  "Barricades  *' 
and  the  "  fitats  de  Blois  ; "  Merimee  the  "  Theatre  de  Clara 
Gazul."  And  observe  well  that  all  this  was  beside  the  theatre, 
beside  the  acting  drama,  beside  the  real  struggle.  The  real 
struggle,  it  was  myself  and  Hugo — I  am  speaking  chronolo- 
gically— who  were  about  to  engage  in  it.' 

This  claim  is  recognised  and  confirmed  by  Sir  Henry 
Bulwer  (Lord  Dulling),  writing  in  the  height  of  the  con- 
test between  the  Classicists  and  Romanticists,  intimately 
acquainted  with  both  schools  and  fully  imbued  with  the 
spmt  of  the  period  : 

'  This  (the  age  of  Louis  Quatorze)  was  a  great  period  of 
the  human  mind,  and,  from  this  period  to  our  own,  tragedy 
has  taken  but  one  giant  stride.  The  genius  which  governed 
the  theatre  stood  unappalled,  when  the  genius  that  had 
founded  the  throne  lay  prostrate.  The  reign  of  Eobespierre 
did  not  disturb  the  rule  of  Racine.  The  republican  Chenier, 
erect  and  firm  before  the  tyranny  of  Bonaparte,  bowed 
before  the  tyranny  of  the  Academy.  The  translations  of 
Duels  were  a  homage  to  the  genius  of  Shakspeare  but  no 
change  in  the  dramatic  art.  In  M.  Delavigne  you  see.tBfe 
old  school  modernised,  but  it  is  the  old  school.  I  pass  by 
M.  de  Vigny,  who  has  written  "La  Marechale  d'Ancre:"  I 
pass  by  M.  Soulier,  who  has  wi-itten  "Clotilde:"  I  pass  by 
the  followers  to  arrive  at  the  chiefs  of  the  new  drama,  M. 
Victor  Hugo  and  M.  Alexandre  Dumas.' ' 

The  bare  definition  of  the  rival  schools  went  far  in 
popular  opinion  to  decide  the  merits  of  the  controversy. 
'  Romanticism,'  says  Beyle,  '  is  the  art  of  presenting  a 
people  with  the  literary  works  which,  in  the  actual  con- 
dition of  their  hal^its  and  modes  of  foith,  are  capable  of 

1  '  France,  Social,  Literary,  Political.'     By  Henry  Lytton  Bulwer,  Esq., 
M.r.     In  two  volumes.     London,  1834, 


326  ALEX.'LN'DER   DUM.iS. 

affording  them  the  greatest  possible  amount  of  pleasm-e. 
Classicism,  on  the  contrary,  presents  them  with  the 
hterature  which  afforded  the  greatest  possible  amount 
of  pleasm-e  to  their  great-grandfathers.'  It  was  a  clear 
gain  to  tlie  di'amatist  to  be  emancipated  from  the  rigid 
observance  of  the  unities,  to  be  free  to  choose  subjects 
from  modern  liistory  or  the  ordinary  walks  of  life,  to 
drape  them  appropriately  and  make  them  talk  naturally, 
instead  of  being  tied  down  to  Greek  and  Eoman  models, 
or  rather  what  passed  for  Greek  and  Eoman  amongst  the 
comtiers  of  the  Grand  Monarque.  But  a  revolution  in 
literature  and  art  is  as  difficult  to  moderate  as  a  revo- 
lution in  government :  it  is  idle  to  play  Canute,  and  say 
'  tlnis  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no  farther '  to  tlie  advanc- 
ing waves  of  thought :  we  must  take  the  evil  with  the 
good ;  and  it  was  Victor  Hugo  himself  who  di'ew  a  pa- 
rallel between  the  excesses  of  the  Eeign  of  Terror  and 
what  he  called  the  nightmares  of  the  new  school,  as 
the  necessities  or  inevitable  results  of  progress.  The 
extravagance  to  wliich  they  puslied  theu'  doctrine  may 
be  collected  from  the  ftict  that,  on  the  night  of  their 
crowning  triumph  after  the  first  representation  of '  Henri 
Trois,'  a  party  of  them  formed  a  ring  by  joining  hands 
in  i\\Q  foyer  of  the  Theatre-Fran^ais,  and  danced  round 
the  bust  of  Eacine,  shouting  in  chorus,  '■Enfonce^  Ra- 
cine I  Enfonce^  Racine ! '  Dumas,  to  do  him  justice, 
never  lost  his  reverence  for  the  best  classic  models,  and 
in  the  first  of  his  accepted  dramas,  '  Christine,'  he  was 
obviously  still  trammelled  by  their  rules.  The  repre- 
sentation of  this  play  was  indefinitely  postponed  through 
a  theatrical  intrigue,  which  is  anuisingly  detailed  in  the 
Memoirs : 

*  What  happened  to  me  during  this  period  of  suspense  ? 
One  of  those  accidents  wliich  only  happen  to  the  predestined 
gave  me  the  subject  of  Henri  Trois  as  another  had  given  me 
the  subject  of  Christine.  The  only  cupboard  in  my  bureau 
was  common  to  Ferisse  (his  fellow-clerk)  and  me.     In  it  I 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  327 

kept  my  paper  :  he,  his  bottles.  One  day,  whether  by  inad- 
vertence or  to  establish  the  superiority  of  his  rights,  lie  took 
away  the  key  of  this  cupboard.  Having  three  or  four  docu- 
ments to  transcribe,  and  being  out  of  paper,  I  repaired  to 
tlie  accountant's  office  to  get  some.  A  volume  of  Anquetil 
lay  open  upon  a  desk  :  I  cast  my  eyes  mechanically  on  the 
page  and  read  what  follows.' 

Wliat  he  read  was  a  scene  between  the  Due  de  Guise 
and  the  Duchesse,  in  wliich  the  Due  compels  her  to 
choose  between  the  dagger  and  the  bowl.  This  led 
Dumas  to  study  the  domestic  history  of  the  pair  and  the 
manners  of  the  period.  The  result  was  the  play  fami- 
liar to  English  readers  as  '  Catherine  of  Cleves.'  It 
succeeded,  and  deserved  to  succeed  :  the  historical  por- 
traits were  true  and  life-like ;  the  tone  and  manners  in 
perfect  keeping  with  the  times ;  and  the  leading  scenes 
admirably  adapted  for  effect.  The  part  of  the  Duchesse 
was  played  by  Mademoiselle  Mars,  who  was  the  tyrant 
of  the  green-room  as  well  as  tlie  queen  of  the  stage  : 

' "  After  the  reading,  I  was  summoned  to  the  director's 
cabinet,  where  I  found  Mademoiselle  Mars,  who  began  with 
that  sort  of  brutality  which  was  habitual  to  her ! — "  Ah,  it 
is  you  ?  We  must  take  care  not  to  make  the  same  befises 
as  in  'Christine.'"  "What  6eiises, Madame?" — "In  the  dis- 
tribution of  parts." — "  True,  I  had  the  honour  of  giving  you 
the  part  of  Cliristine,  and  you  have  not  acted  it." — "  That 
may  be:  there  is  a  good  deal  to  be  said  on  tliat  subject;  but 
I  promise  yqu  I  will  play  that  of  the  Duchess  of  Gruise." — 
"  Then,  you  take  it  ?" — "  Of  course.  Was  it  not  intended 
for  me  ?"— «  Certainly,  Madame."—"  Well  then  ?"— "  There- 
fore I  thank  you  most  sincerely."  "  Now,  the  Due  de  G-uise. 
To  whom  do  you  give  the  Due  de  Guise  ?  " ' 

They  differ  upon  this  part  and  two  or  three  others 
Avhich  Dumas  refuses  to  her  friends — 

'  "  So  far  so  good  :  now  for  the  page.  I  play  three  scenes 
■with  him.  I  give  you  fair  ^val•ning  that  I  insist  on  some  one 
who  suits  me  for  this  part." — "  There  is  Madame  ]\Ienjaud, 
who  will  play  it  to  admiration." — "^Madame  Menjaud  has 


328  ALEIAXDER  DUMAS. 

talent,  but  she  wants  the  physical  qualities  for  the  part." — 
"  Oh,  this  is  too  much  I  And  doubtless  this  part  is  given 
too  ? " — "  Yes,  Madame,  it  is,  to  Mademoiselle  Louise  Des- 
preaux."  "  Choose  her  for  a  page  !  "  "  Why  not  ?  Is  she 
not  pretty  ?  " — "  Oh  yes,  but  it  is  not  enough  to  be  pretty." 
"  Has  she  not  talent  ?  " — "  It  may  come  in  time  ;  but  make 
that  little  girl  play  the  page  !  "  "I  am  ready  to  listen  to 
any  good  reason  Avhy  she  should  not." — "  Well  then,  see  her 

in  tights ;  and  you  will  see  that  she  is  horribly  knockkneed." 

******* 

'  I  made  my  bow  and  took  my  departure,  leaving  Made- 
moiselle Mars  stupified.  It  was  the  first  time  an  author 
had  held  out  against  her.  I  must  confess,  however,  that  the 
legs  of  my  page  kept  running  in  my  head.' 

The  young  lady  turned  out  an  unexceptionable  page 
in  all  respects  ;  and  Dumas  explains  that  the  real  objec- 
tion to  her  was  her  youth.  Mademoiselle  Mars  at 
fifty-one  did  not  \Yish.  to  be  brought  into  close  contact 
with  sweet  seventeen. 

From  the  moment  Dumas  took  up  the  position  of— 

'  Some  youth  his  parents'  wishes  doom'd  to  cross, 
Who  pens  a  stanza  when  he  should  engross,' 

his  official  superiors  lost  no  opportunity  of  finding  fault 
with  liim,  and  at  length  the  Due  d'Orleans  was  over- 
persuaded  to  write  against  his  name :  Supprimer  les 
gratifications  de  M.  Alexandre  Dumas^  qui  s'occupe  de 
litterature.  Unabashed  by  this  mai'ked  disapproval, 
Dumas,  the  day  before  the  first  performance  of  his 
play,  boldly  presented  himself  at  the  Palais-Royal  and 
demanded  to  speak  witli  liis  loyal  master.  Under  the 
behef  that  he  came  by  appointment,  he  was  admitted. 

'  "  So,  M.  Dumas,  it  is  you.  What  good  wind  brings  you, 
or  rather  brings  you  back  ?" — "  JNIonseigneur,  'Henri  Trois' 
is  to  be  brought  out  to-morrow,  and  I  came  to  ask  your 
Highness,  as  a  favour,  or  rather  an  act  of  justice,  to  attend 
my  first  representation.  During  a  full  year  passed  since 
your  Highness  has  been  assured  that  I  am  a  vain,  head- 
strong, foolish  fellow — during  a  full  year  I  have  maintained 


ALEX^ys^DER   DUxM^iS.  329 

that  I  am  a  humble  and  hard-working  poet :  you  have  sided, 
without  hearing  me,  with  my  accusers.  Haply  your  High- 
ness should  have  waited :  your  Highness  judged  differently 
and  has  not  waited.  To-morrow  the  cause  comes  before  the 
public  to  be  judged.  Be  present,  Monseigneur,  at  the  judg- 
ment.    This  is  the  prayer  I  come  to  prefer." 

' "  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  replied  the  Prince,  after  a 
brief  hesitation,  "but  unluckily  it  is  impossible  ;  judge  for 
yourself.  I  have  twenty  or  thirty  princes  and  princesses  to 
dinner  to-morrow."  "  Does  your  Highness  believe  that  the 
first  performance  of  'Henri  Trois'  would  be  a  curious  spec- 
tacle to  offer  to  these  princes  and  princesses  ?  "  "  How  can 
I  offer  it  to  them  ?  The  dinner  is  at  six  and  the  performance 
begins  at  seven." — "  Let  Monseigneur  put  on  the  dinner  an 
hour,  I  will  put  off  '  Henri  Trois  '  an  hour.  Your  Highness 
will  have  three  hours  to  satisfy  the  appetites  of  your  august 
guests."  "  But  where  shall  I  put  them  ?  I  have  only  three 
boxes. " — "  I  have  requested  the  administration  not  to  dis- 
pose of  the  gallery  till  I  should  have  seen  your  Highness." 
"You  took  for  granted  then  that  I  should  consent  to  attend." 
— "I  reckoned  on  your  justice.  .  .  .  Monseigneur,  I  appeal 
to  Philip  sober." ' 

This  was  published,  and  passed  uuchallenged,  when 
Pliilip  sober  was  on  the  throne.  The  house  was  crowd- 
ed mth  princes  and  notabilities :  twent}'  louis  were 
given  for  a  box.  The  fate  of  the  piece  hung  on  the 
thhd  act,  especially  on  the  scene  where  the  Due,  grasp- 
ing his  wife's  wrist  with  his  gauntletted  hand,  compels 
her  to  write  the  note  of  assignation  to  Saint-Meffrin. 
'  Tills  scene  raised  cries  of  terror,  but  simultaneously 
ehcited  thunders  of  applause :  it  was  the  first  time  that 
dramatic  scenes  of  such  force,  I  may  also  say  of  such 
brutality,  had  been  risked  upon  the  boards.' 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  third  act,  Dumas  hurries  off 
to  the  sick-bed  of  his  mother,  and  returns  just  in  time 
to  witness  a  complete  success  and  receive  the  enthu- 
siastic congratulations  of  liis  triciKls,  '  Few  men  have 
seen  so  rapid  a  change  operated  in  their  life  as  was 
operated  in  mine  diuing  the  five  hours  that  the  repre- 


330  ALEX.\NDER   DUMAS. 

sentation  lasted.  Completely  unknown  the  evening 
before,  I  was  the  talk  of  all  Paris,  for  evil  or  for  good, 
on  the  morrow.  There  are  enmities,  enmities  of  per- 
sons I  have  never  seen,  enmities  that  date  from  the 
obtrusive  noise  made  by  my  name  at  this  epoch.  There 
are  friendships,  too,  that  date  from  it.  How  many  envied 
me  tliis  evening,  who  little  thought  that  I  passed  the 
night  on  a  mattress  by  the  bedside  of  my  dying  mother.' 
The  Due  d'Orleans  (Louis  Philippe)  was  present  at 
the  second  representation  also,  and  called  Dumas  to  his 
box.  After  the  expected  compliments  and  congratula- 
tions, he  was  informed  that  he  had  nearly  got  his  royal 
patron  into  a  scrape — 

'"How  so,  Monseigneur ? "  "Why,  a  apropos  of  your 
drama.  The  king  (Charles  X.)  sent  for  me  yesterday,  and 
hegan,  '  Mon  Cousin  (laying  a  marked  emphasis  on  our  rela- 
tionship), I  am  told  that  you  have  in  your  employment  a 
young  man  who  has  written  a  play  in  which  we  both  have 
parts,  I  that  of  Henri  Trois,  and  you  that  of  the  Due  de 
Guise.'" — "Your  Highness  might  have  replied  that  this 
young  man  was  no  longer  in  your  employment."  "  No,  I 
declined  saying  what  was  not  true,  for  I  retain  you.  I 
replied,  '  Sire,  you  have  been  misinformed  for  three  reasons. 
The  first  is  that  I  do  not  use  personal  violence  to  my  wife ; 
the  second,  that  she  is  not  unfaithful  to  me;  the  third,  that 
your  Majesty  has  no  more  faitlifiil  subject  than  myself.'  Is 
not  this  a  better  reply  than  the  one  you  suggested  to  me?" ' 

An  attempt  was  made  to  prevent  the  second  repre- 
sentation of  tlic  piece  through  the  censorship,  and,  on 
this  failing,  a  formal  protest  against  its  admission  into 
the  repertory  of  the  Theatre  Frangais,  signed  by  seven 
men  of  letters  more  or  less  eminent,  was  presented  to 
the  King,  who  replied,  in  terms  no  (l(ni])t  suggested  by 
his  Minister,  Martignac : 

'"Messieurs:  Je  ne  puis  rien  pour  oe  que  vous  desirez  ; 
]('  n'ai,  comme  tons  les  Francais,  qu'une  plac(^  an  parterre."' 

Tlie  utmost  that  coidd  be  urged  against  the  origin- 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  331 

ality  of  this  play  was  that  two  or  three  incidents  had 
been  borrowed  and  tui'ned  to  good  account.  The  act  of 
violence  by  which  the  Due  de  Guise  extorts  the  signature 
of  his  wife  was  probably  suggested  by  the  scene  in  '  The 
Abbot '  between  Lord  Lindsay  and  Queen  Mary.  In 
*  The  conspiracy  of  Venice,'  Fiesco's  suspicions  are 
excited  by  finding  his  wife's  handkerchief  wet  with 
tears  in  a  room  which  she  and  Calcagno  have  just  left ; 
and  the  Duchesse  de  Guise's  handkerchief,  found  in  a 
compromising  spot,  is  Avhat  first  turns  the  Due's  sus- 
picions on  her  lover.  This  incident  gave  rise  to  the 
epigram  : 

*  Messieurs  et  Mesdames,  cette  piece  est  morale, 
Elle  prouve  aujourd'hui,  sans  faire  de  scaudale, 
Que  chez  un  amant,  lorsqu'on  va  le  soir, 
On  pent  oublier  tout — excepts  son  uiouchoir.' 

Although  the  accusation  of  immorality  was  unscrupu- 
lously brought  against  the  chiefs  of  the  romantic  school, 
they  were  not  more  open  to  it  than  the  classicists  in 
regard  to  the  choice  of  subjects,  so  long  as  these  were 
taken  from  history.  The  most  repulsive  subject  ever 
chosen  by  either  of  them,  that  of  '  La  Tour  de  Nesle  ' 
for  example,  was  not  more  repulsive  than  that  of 
'  Medea '  or  '  (Edipus  ; '  and  neither  Lucrece  Borgia  nor 
Marion  Delorme  could  be  put  to  shame  by  Phedre, 
who  sums  up  her  riding  passion  in  one  line : 

'  C'est  Venus  tout  entiere  a  sa  proie  attachee.' 

A  plot  laid  in  the  middle  ages,  in  a  corrupt  French 
or  Itahan  com-t,  should  be  judged  by  the  same  rules  as 
one  laid  in  Thebes  or  Colchis.  Nor  should  a  poet  or 
dramatist  be  summarily  condemned  for  immorality, 
merely  because  he  describes  immoral  actions  or  brings 
immoral  characters  on  the  stage,  so  long  as  these  are 
true  to  natiure  and  correct  representatives  of  their 
epoch,  with  its  passions,  its  vices,  and  its  crimes. 
Dramas  can  no  more  be  compounded  entirely  of  virtue, 


332  ALEXANDER   DUMAS. 

tliau  revolutions  can  be  made  with  rose-water.  It  was 
when  Dumas  abandoned  the  past  foi-  the  present,  for- 
sook romance  for  reahty,  chose  his  heroes  and  heroines 
from  modern  hfe,  and  bade  us  sympathise  with  their 
perverted  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  their  systematic 
defiance  of  all  social  ties,  tlieii'  sensuahty  and  their 
selfishness, — when,  in  short,  he  'dressed  up  the  nine- 
teenth centmy  in  a  hvery  of  heroism,  turned  up  with 
assassination  and  incest,'  that  he  justly  fell  within  the 
critic's  ban,  and  gave  point  to  the  most  stinging  epigram 
levelled  at  his  school : 

*  A  croire  ce3  Messieurs,  on  ne  voit  dans  les  rues, 
Que  des  enfauts  trouvdd  et  des  femuies  perdues.' 

In  his  drama  of  '  Antony  '  he  set  all  notions  of  morality 
at  defiance ;  yet  his  bitterest  opponents  were  obliged  to 
confess  that  it  bore  the  strongest  impress  of  originality, 
and  that  its  faults  were  qnite  as  much  those  of  the 
epoch,  of  the  applauding  public,  as  of  the  author.  'It 
contains,'  says  one  of  them,  '  badly  put  together, 
illogical  and  odious  as  it  is,  scenes  of  touching  sensibility 
and  intense  pathos.'  '  It  is  perhaps  the  play,'  says 
Bulwer,  '  in  which  the  public  have  seen  most  to  ad- 
mire. The  plot  is  simple,  the  action  rapid ;  each  act 
contains  an  event,  and  each  event  developes  the  charac- 
ter, and  tends  to  the  catastrophe.' 

Antony  is  a  man  formedafter  the  Byronic  model,  gloomy 
and  saturnine,  whose  birth  (illegitimate)  and  position  are 
a  mysteiy.  lie  is  in  love  with  Adele,  a  young  lady  of 
family  and  fortune,  who  returns  his  passion,  but  not 
venturing  to  propose  to  her,  he  suddenly  disappears, 
and  is  absent  for  three  years  ;  at  the  end  of  which  he 
returns,  to  find  her  the  wife  of  Colonel  d'llervey,  with 
a  daughter.  In  the  first  act  an  opportune  accident 
causes  liim  to  be  domiciled  in  her  house  whilst  her 
liusband  is  away.^     Explanations  take  place.     He  elo- 

'  A  piopos  of  plafj:iarisni,  this  mode  of  bringing  Ihc  lover  under  the 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  333 

quently  expatiates  on  liis  love,  his  heart-broken  con- 
dition, his  despair ;  and  Adcle,  distrusting  her  own 
powers  of  prolonged  resistance,  suddenly  gives  him  the 
slip,  orders  post-horses,  and  makes  the  best  of  her  Avay 
to  join  the  Colonel  at  Frankfort.  She  is  pursued  by 
Antony,  who  passes  her  on  the  road,  arrives  first  at  the 
little  inn  at  which  she  is  compelled  to  sleep  for  want 
of  post-horses,  and  makes  arrangements  as  to  rooms, 
wliich  may  be  collected  from  the  result. 

'  Adele.  Jamais  il  n'est  arrive  d'accident  dans  cet  hotel  ? 

L'Hotesse.  Jamais.  ...  Si  Madame  veut,  je  ferai  veiller 
quelqu'un  ? 

Adele.  Non,  non  .  .  .  au  fait,  pardon  .  .  .  laissez-moi  .  .  . 
{Elle  ventre  dans  le  cabinet  et  ferine  la  jporte). 

Antony  paratt  sur  le  balcon,  derriere  la  fenetre,  casse  un 
carreau,  passe  son  bras,  ouvre  Vespagnolette,  entre  vive- 
ment,  et  va  mettre  le  verrou  a  la  porte  par  laquelle  est 
sortie  Vhotesse. 

Adele  {sortant  du  cabinet).  Du  bruit  .  .  .  un  homme  .  .  . 
ah !  .  .  . 

Antony.  Silence !  .  .  .  {La  prenant  dans  ses  bras  et  Ini 
mettant  un  mouchoir  sur  la  bouche.)  C'est  moi  .  .  .  moi, 
Antony  .  .  .  {II  Ventraine  dans  le  cabinety 

This  is  the  end  of  the  third  act.  In  the  fourth, 
the  lovers  are  again  in  Paris  and  suffering  tortm^es  fi»m 
the  sarcasms  and  covert  allusions  of  their  social  circle, 
in  which  their  inn  adventure  has  got  wind.  Antony, 
hearino-  that  the  Colonel  will  arrive  witliin  the  hour, 
has  only  just  time  to  prepare  Adele  for  the  meeting. 
We  borrow  Bulwer's  translation  of  the  catastrophe  : 

'  Adele.  Oh  !  it's  he.  ...  Oh  !  my  God  :  my  God  !  Have 
pity  on  me  !  pardon,  pardon  ! 

Antony.  Come,  it  is  over  now  ! 

Adele.  Somebody's  coming  upstairs  .  .  .  somebody  rings. 
It's  my  husband— fly,  fly  ! 

conjugal  roof  is  employed  by  Charles  de  Bernard  in  his  fascinating  novel, 
'Gerfault.' 


334  ALEXAXDEli    DUMAS. 

Antony  {fastening  the  door).  Not  I — I  fly  not  .  .  . 
Listen  !  .  .  .  You  said  just  uow  that  you  did  not  fear  death. 

Adele.  No,  no  ...  Oh  I  kill  me,  for  pity's  sake. 

Antony.  A  death  that  would  save  thy  I'eputation,  that  of 
thy  child  ? 

Adele.  I'll  beg  for  it  on  my  knees. 

{A  voice  from  ivithouty  "  Open,  open  !  break  open  the 
door!'') 

Antony.  And  in  thy  last  breath  thou  wilt  not  curse  thy 
assassin  ? 

Adele.  I'll  bless  him — but  be  quick  .  .  .  that  door. 

Antony.  Fear  nothing  I  death  shall  be  here  before  any 
one.     But  reflect  on  it  well — death  ! 

Adele.  I  beg  it — wish  it — implore  it  {throwing  herself 
into  his  arms) — I  come  to  seek  it. 

Antony  {kissing  her).  Well  then,  die. 

{He  stabs  her  with  a  poniard.) 

Adele  {falling  into  a  fautewil).  Ah ! 

{At  the  same  moment  the  door  is  forced  open,  Col. 
d'Hervey  rushes  on  the  stage.) 

SCENE    lY. 

Col.  d'Hervey,  Antony,  Adele,  and  different  servants. 
Col.  d'Hervey.  Wretch  !— What  do  I  see  ?— Adele  ! 
Antony.  Dead,  yes,  dead  I — she  resisted  me,  and  I  assassi- 
nated  her. 

{He  thr OIL'S  his  dagger  at  the  ColoneVs  feet.)  ' 

In  point  of  conventional  delicacy  or  propriety,  the 
action  of  this  play  is  not  more  objectionable  than 
'  La  Grande  Duchesse,'  and  even  the  concluding  scene 
of  the  third  act  is  not  more  hazardous  than  the  critical 
one  in  '  TartuS'e,'  nor  than  the  famous  scene  in  '  Les 
Intimes,'  wliich,  after  an  unavailing  remonstrance  from 
our  decorous  and  esteemed  Lord  Chamberlain,  Made- 
moiselle Fargueil  played  in  her  own  manner  to  one  of 
the  most  aristocratic  audiences  which  this  metropolis 
could  supply.  But  the  profound  immorality,  the  in- 
grained corruption  and  perversion  of  principle,  the 
mockery  of  sensibility,  which  pervade  'Antony,'  and 


ALEX.\XDER    DUMAS.  335 

struck  a  sympathetic  chord  in  a  highly  cuhivated  au- 
dience (half  the  notabilities  of  Paris  being  present  at 
the  first  representation)  are  positively  starthng.  There 
is  nothin";  to  idealise  ;  nothinj^  to  throw  a  delusive 
halo  over  vice  ;  not  a  particle  of  ennobhug  passion — 

*  That  exquisite  passion — ay,  exquisite,  even 
In  the  ruin  its  madness  too  often  hath  made, 
As  it  keeps  even  then  a  bright  trace  of  the  heaven, 
The  heaven  of  virtue,  from  which  it  has  strayed.' 

What  one  redeeming  quality  has  Adele,  who  only 
shrinks  fi'om  remaining  under  the  conjugal  roof  and 
afiecting  innocence,  for  fear  of  discovery  ?  What  one 
redeeming  quality  has  Antony,  if  we  except  the  nerve  to 
peipetrate  crime  and  the  courage  to  face  the  criminal 
com't  ?  He  is  hard,  selfish,  material,  brutal  tlu'oughout ; 
and  the  crowning  atrocity  is  an  absui'dity.  There  is  a 
charming  novel  by  Count  de  Jarnac  in  which  the  hero 
endures  tortm^e,  and  is  ready  to  endiu"e  death,  rather 
than  compromise  a  woman.  This  is  natiu-al  and  (it  is 
to  be  hoped)  not  very  improbable.  But  how  could 
Antony  hope  to  silence  a  scandal,  wliich  was  abeady 
the  talk  of  Paris,  by  deepening  it  ?  What  human  being 
would  believe  that  he  had  kiUed  his  known,  almost 
avowed,  mistress  for  resisting  liim !  But  the  French 
mind,  or  rather  the  mind  of  the  French  play-goi% 
pubhc,  is  so  constituted  that  a  moral  paradox  or  senti- 
mental extravagance  fascinates  them,  and  they  will 
applaud  impulsively  whatever  creates  a  sensation  or 
excites,  however  false  or  foohsh  in  conception  or  in  act. 
And  that  pubhc,  when  '  Antony '  ^\•as  brought  out, 
was  still  fevered  and  disordered,  still  seething  and 
surging,  fi'om  the  Eevolution  of  July.  The  subversive 
spirit  was  in  the  ascendant :  estabhshed  rides  and 
principles  had  shared  the  fate  of  estabhshed  institu- 
tions :  the  legitimate  drama  had  fallen  with  the  legiti- 
mate monarchy  ;  and  the  Academy  was  at  a  discount, 
like  the  throne. 


336  ALEXANDER    DUMAS 

The  sole  place  of  refuge  for  the  classic  muse,  the 
single  fane  at  which  the  sacred  fire  was  still  kept  burn- 
ing by  her  worshippers,  was  the  Theatre  Franyais.  Yet 
it  only  escaped  profanation  by  a  caprice.  '  Antony ' 
had  been  accepted  there  :  an  early  day  had  been  fixed 
for  the  first  representation,  and  the  company  were 
assembled  for  the  last  rehearsal,  when  Dumas  hurries 
in  with  excuses  for  being  late,  and  tlie  following  dia- 
logue takes  place  between  him  and  Mademoiselle  Mars, 
who  was  to  play  Adele  : 

'  Mars.  Tlie  delay  is  of  no  consequence  ;  you  have  heard 
what  has  happened  ?  We  are  to  have  a  new  chandelier, 
and  be  lighted  with  gas  ! 

Dumas.  So  much  the  better. 

Mars.  Not  exactly ;  I  have  laid  out  1 200  francs  (48  pounds) 
for  your  piece.  I  have  four  different  toilettes.^  I  wish  them 
to  be  seen  ;  and  since  we  are  to  have  a  new  chandelier 

Dumas.  How  soon  ? 

Mars.  In  three  months. 

Dumas.  Well ! 

Mars.  Well,  we  will  play  Antony  to  inaugurate  the  new 
lustre.' 

The  new  lustre  was  a  pretence.  The  company  of 
the  classical  theatre  had  resolved  not  to  act  the  piece. 
It  was  immediately  transferred  to  the  more  congenial  at- 
mosphere of  the  Porte  St.  Martin,  to  which  Victor  Hugo 
emigrated  about  the  same  time  ;  and  this  theatre  thence- 
forth became  the  head-quarters  of  tlieir  school.  The 
part  of  Adele  was  played  by  Madame  Dorval,  and 
played  con  amore  in  every  sense  of  the  phrase.  On 
learning  the  arrival  of  her  husband,  Adele  exclaims, 
Mais  je  suis  perdue.,  moi  I  At  the  last  rehearsal, 
Madame  Dorval  was  still  at  a  loss  how  to  give  full  effect 
to  these  words,  and,  stepping  forward,  requested  to 
speak  to  the  author.     '  How  did  Mademoiselle  Mars 

'  We  be{^  onr  female  readers  to  mark  tliis  and  meditate  on  it.  Four 
coini)lete  toilettes  or  co.stume.s  for  forty-eiglit  pounds! 


ALEXANDER     DIMAS.  837 

say  Mais  je  suis  perdue,  moi'?  '  She  was  sitting  dijwn, 
and  she  stood  up.'  '  Good,'  rej)licd  Dorval,  '  I  will  b(; 
standing  up,  and  sit  down.'  On  the  first  niglit  of  the 
perlon nance,  owing  to  some  inadvertence,  the  ai'ni- 
cliair  into  which  she  was  to  drop  was  not  pi-operly 
placed,  and  she  fell  back  agahist  the  arm,  but  the 
words  were  given  with  so  thrilling  an  expression  of 
despair  that  the  house  rang  with  ap[)lause. 

The  key  to  the  plot  being  in  the  last  position  and 
last  words,  the  angry  disappointment  of  the  audience 
may  be  guessed,  when  one  evening  the  stage-manager 
let  down  the  curtain  as  soon  as  Antony  had  stabbed 
Adele.  Le  denouement!  Le  denouement!  was  the  sus- 
tained cry  from  every  part  of  the  house ;  till  Madame 
Dorval  resumed  her  recumbent  position,  as  dead  or 
dying  woman,  to  complete  the  performance.  But 
Bocage  (who  acted  Antony),  furious  at  the  blunder, 
stayed  away,  and  the  call  was  renewed  in  menacing 
tones,  when  Dorval  raised  her  drooping  head,  reani- 
mated her  inert  form,  advanced  to  the  footlights, 
and  in  the  midst  of  a  dead  silence,  gave  the  words 
with  a  starthng  and  telhng  variation  :  Messieurs,  je  Lai 
resistais,  it  nia  assassinee.  Dumas  complacently  records 
this  incident  with  apparent  unconsciousness  of  the  ridi- 
cule which  it  mingles  with  the  supposed  pathos  (ft 
horror  of  the  catastrophe. 

The  chief  honours  of  the  poetical  revolution  are 
assigned  by  Dumas  to  Lamartine  and  Victor  Hugo,  but 
the  dramatic  revolution,  he  insists,  began  with  the  first 
representation  of  '  Henri  Trois.'  Hugo,  an  anxious 
spectator,  was  one  of  the  first  to  offer  his  congi-atula- 
tions :  '  It  is  now  my  turn,'  were  his  words  to  Dumas, 
'  and  I  invite  you  to  be  present  at  the  first  reading.' 
The  day  foll(Jwing  he  chose  his  subject ;  and  '  Marion 
Delorme,'  begun  on  the  1st  June,  1829,  was  finished  on 
tlie  27th.  Dumas  was  true  to  his  engagement,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  reading  he  exclaimed  to  tlie  Director — 

VOL.    I.  z 


338  ALEX.VNDER    DUMAS. 

'  We  are  all  done  brown  (flawhes)  if  Yictoi-  luis  not 
this  very  day  produced  the  best  piece  he  ever  will 
produce — only  I  believe  he  has.'  '  Why  so  ? '  '  Be- 
cause there  are  in  "  Marion  Delorme  "  all  the  qualities 
of  the  mature  author,  and  none  of  the  faults  of  the 
young  one.  Progress  is  impossible  for  any  one  who 
begins  by  a  complete  or  nearly  complete  work.' 

'  Marion  Delorme  '  was  stopped  by  the  Censorship, 
and  did  not  appear  till  after  'Antony.'  The  striking 
similarity  between  the  two  heroes  of  the  two  pieces 
respectively  raised  and  justified  a  cry  that  one  was 
copied  from  the  other,  and  suspicion  fell  upon  Hugo, 
who  came  last  before  the  public ;  when  Dumas  gal- 
lantly stepi^ed  forward  and  declared  that,  if  there  was 
any  plagiarism  in  the  matter,  he  was  the  guilty  person, 
since,  before  writing  '  Antony,'  he  had  attended  the 
readin<T  of  '  Marion  Delorme.' 

An  amusing  instance  of  the  manner  in  which  Hugo 
was  piqued  into  abandoning  the  Theatre  Fran9ais  for 
the  Porte  St.  Martin,  is  related  by  Dumas.  At  the  re- 
hearsal of  '  Hernani,'  the  author  as  usual  being  seated 
in  tlie  pit,  Mademoiselle  Mars,  who  played  Doiia  Sol, 
came  forward  to  the  footlights  shading  her  eyes  with 
her  hand  and,  affecting  not  to  see  Hugo,  asked  if  he 
was  there.     He  rose  and  announced  his  presence  : 

'  "  Ah,  good.  Tell  me,  M.  Hugo,  I  have  to  speak  this 
verse — 

Vous  etes  mon  lion  !  Superbe  et  gt5u^reux." 

"  Yes,  madame,  Hernani  says — 

Helas !  j'aime  pourtant  d'un  amour  bien  profoiid  I 

Ne  pleure  pas  .  .  .  mourons  plutot.    Que  n'ai-je  un  monde, 

Je  te  le  donnerais  !  .  .  .  Je  suis  hion  malbeureux. 

"  And  you  reply — 

Vou3  etes  mon  lion  !  Superbe  et  giSnereux.'' 

"And  you  like  that,  M.  Hugo?  To  say  the  truth,  it 
seems  so  droll  for  mc;  to  call  M.  Firmin  mon  lion.''^ 

"  Ah,  because  in  playing  the  part  of  Dofia  Sol,  you  wish 


ALEXAXDER    DUMAR.  339 

to  continue  Mademoiselle  Mars.  If  you  were  truly  tlic 
ward  of  Kuy  Gromez  de  Sylva,  a  nol)le  Caatilian  of  tlie  six- 
teenth century,  you  woidd  not  see  M.  Firmin  in  Hernani ; 
you  would  see  one  of  those  terrible  leaders  of  bands  that 
made  Charles  V.  tremble  in  his  capital.  You  would  feel 
that  such  a  woman  may  call  a  man  Jier  lion,  and  you  would 
not  think  it  droll." 

"  Very  well ;  since  you  stick  to  your  lion,  I  am  here  to 
speak  what  is  set  down  for  me.  There  is  mon  lion  in  the 
manuscript,  so  here  goes,  M.  Firmin — 

Vous  etes  mon  liou  \  Superbe  et  gyln^reux." ' 

At  the  actual  representation  slie  broke  faith,  and 
substituted  Monseigneur  for  mon  lion,  which  (at  all 
events  from  the  author's  point  of  view)  was  substituting 
prose  for  poetry.  jSTothing  can  be  more  injudicious  or 
vain  than  the  attempt  to  tone  down  a  writer  of  origi 
nality  or  force;  for  the  electric  chain  of  imagination  or 
thought  may  be  broken  by  the  change  or  omission  of 
a  word.  The  romantic  school  which  delighted  in 
hazardous  effects, — in  effects  often  resting  on  the  thin 
line  which  separates  the  sublime  from  the  ridiculous, — 
could  least  of  all  endure  this  description  of  criticism. 
Dumas  suffered  like  his  friend ;  and  their  concerted 
secession  to  the  Porte  St.  Martin  was  a  prudent  as  well 
as  inevitable  step. 

At  this  theatre  Dumas  was  like  the  air,  a  chartered 
libertine ;  and  here  he  brought  out  a  succession  of 
pieces,  wdiich,  thanks  to  his  |)rodignlity  of  resource  and 
unrivalled  knowledge  of  stage  eflect,  secured  and  per- 
manently retained  an  applauding  ])ublic,  although 
many  of  them  seemed  written  to  try  to  what  extent 
the  recognised  rules  of  art  might  be  set  aside.  To 
take  '  La  Tour  de  Xesle,'  for  example,  we  agree  with 
Bulwer,  that,  judged  by  the  ordinary  rules  of  criticism, 
it  is  a  melodramatic  monstrosity  ;  but  if  you  think  that 
to  seize,  to  excite,  to  suspend,  to  transport  tiie  feelings 
of  an  audience,  to  keep  tliem  with  an  eye  eager,  an 

z  -2 


340  ALEXANDER    DUMAS. 

attention  untiagged,  from  the  first  scene  to  tlie  last  — 
if  you  think  tliat  to  do  this  is  to  be  a  dramatist,  that  to 
liave  done  this  is  to  have  written  a  drama — bow  down 
to  M.  Dumas  or  M.  Gaillard,  to  the  author  of  '  La  Tour 
de  Nesle '  whoever  he  be,  that  man  is  a  dramatist,  the 
piece  he  has  written  is  a  drama, — 

'  Gro  and  see  it !  There  is  great  art,  great  nature,  great 
improl)al)ihty,  all  massed  and  mingled  all  together  in  the 
rapid  rush  of  terrible  things,  which  pour  upon  you,  press 
upon  you,  keep  you  fixed  to  your  seat,  breathless,  motion- 
less. And  then  a  pause  comes — the  piece  is  over — you 
shake  your  head,  you  stretch  your  limbs,  you  still  feel 
shocked,  bewildered,  and  walk  home  as  if  awakened  from  a 
terrible  nightmare.  Such  is  the  effect  of  the  "  Tovu"  de 
Nesle." ' 

Such  was  the  effect  when  Mademoiselle  Georges 
played  Marguerite,  and  Frederic  Le  Maitre,  Buridan ; 
and  (independently  of  the  acting)  the  rapid  succession 
of  surprises  makes  it  a  masterpiece  in  its  way.  No  one 
can  doubt  that  these  are  the  creation  of  Dumas,  along 
with  everything  else  that  constitutes  the  distinctive 
merit  or  demerit  of  the  piece.  We  should  also  say, 
Go  and  see  '  Mademoiselle  de  Belle-Isle :  '  you  will 
follow  the  action  with  rapt  and  constantly  growing 
interest ;  and  you  will  listen  to  sparkling  dialogue,  ex- 
quisitely adapted  to  the  characters. 

It  was  as  a  dramatist  that  Dumas  became  famous, 
although  his  world-wide  renown  is  owinij  to  his  ro- 
mances,  which  he  composed  at  headlong  speed  con- 
temporaneously with  his  dramas,  without  much  adding 
to  his  reputation,  until  1844-45,  when  he  published 
'Les  Trois  Mousquetaires,'  '  Vingt  Ans  Apres,'  and 
'  Monte  Christo,'  the  most  popular  of  his  works.  There 
is  hardly  an  inhabited  district  in  either  hemisphere,  in 
which  Diunas,  [)ointing  to  a  volume  of  one  of  them, 
might  not  exclaim  like  Johnson  pointing  to  a  copy  of 


ALEXANDER    DUMAS.  341 

the  duodecimo  edition  of  his  Dictionary  in  a  country- 
house  : — 

'  Qii.ie  regio  in  terris  nostri  non  plena  laboris  ?  ' 

They  have  remained  tlie  most  ])opular,  and  remained 
moreover  exclusively  associated  with  his  name,  although 
the  authorship  has  been  confidently  assigned  by  critics 
of  repute  to  others,  and  the  most  persistent  ridicule 
has  been  levelled  at  their  conception,  their  composition, 
their  materials,  and  their  plan.  Amongst  the  most 
mischievous  assailants  was  Thackeray,  in  a  letter  ad- 
dressed to  M.  le  Marquis  Davy  de  la  Pailleterie,  printed 
in  the  'Eevue  Britannique'  for  January  1847.  We 
give  a  specimen  : 

'  As  for  me,  I  am  a  decided  partisan  of  the  new  system 
of  which  you  are  the  inventor  in  France.  I  Uke  your  ro- 
mances in  one-and-twenty  volumes,  whilst  regretting"  all  the 
time  that  there  are  so  many  blank  pages  between  your  chap- 
ters and  so  small  an  amount  of  printed  matter  in  your  pages. 
I,  moreover,  like  your  continuations.  I  have  not  skipped  a 
word  of  "  Monte  Christo,"  and  it  made  me  quite  happy  when, 
after  having  read  eight  volumes  of  the  "  Trois  Mousque- 
taires,"  I  saw  M.  Rolandi,  the  excellent  circulating-library 
man  who  supplies  me  with  books,  bring  me  ten  more  under 
the  title  of  "  Vingt  Ans  Apres."  May  you  make  Athos, 
Porthos,  and  Aramis  live  a  hundred  years,  to  treat  us  to  twelve 
volumes  more  of  their  adventures !  May  the  physician 
(Medecin)  whose  "  Memoires  "  you  have  taken  in  hand,  be- 
ginning them  at  the  commencement  of  the  reign  of  Loins 
XV.,  make  the  fortunes  of  the  apothecaries  of  the  Revolu- 
tion of  July  by  his  prescriptions  I' 

Imuunerable  readers  would  reciprocate  in  earnest 
the  wishes  tluis  ironically  expressed,  and  Thackeray 
might  have  remembered  that  lenc^th  is  more  a  merit 
than  an  objection  so  long  as  interest  is  kept  up.  It  is 
strange,  too,  that  he  should  have  hailed  Dumas  as  the 
inventor  of  the  voluminous  novel,  ])articularly  after 
calling  attention  to  tlie  blank  pages  between  his 
chapters  and  the  small  amount  of  printed  matter  in  his 


342  ALEXANDER   DUMAS, 

pages.  There  is  an  English  translation  of  '  Les  Trois 
Mousquetaires,'  in  one  royal-octavo  volume,  and  of 
'  Monte  Christo  '  in  three  volumes  octavo.  The  seven 
volumes  of  '  Clarissa  Harlow '  contain  more  printed 
matter  than  the  longest  of  Dumas's  romances.  Made- 
moiselle Scudery  beats  him  hollow  in  length  and  might 
be  apostrophised  like  her  brother — 

*  Bieuheureux  Scudery,  dont  la  fertile  plume, 
Pent  tous  lea  mois  sans  peine  eufanter  un  volume.' 

So  does  Eestif  de  la  Bretoinie,  one  of  the  most  popular 
novelists  of  the  eighteenth  centiu'y,  whose  '  Les  Con- 
temporaines  '  is  in  forty-two  volumes. 

So  much  for  lenpjth.  In  point  of  plot,  they  are  on  a 
par  with  'Don  Quixote'  and  'Gil  Bias:' in  point  of 
incident,  situation,  character,  animated  narrative,  and 
dialogue,  they  will  rarely  lose  by  comparison  with  the 
author  of  'Waverley.'  Compare,  for  example,  the 
scene  in  '  Les  Trois  Mousquetaires  '  between  Bucking- 
ham and  Anne  of  Austria,  with  the  strikingly  analogous 
scene  between  Leicester  and  Elizabeth  in  'Kenilworth.' 

If  Dumas  occasionally  spun  out  his  romances  till 
they  grew  wearisome,  it  was  not  because  he  was 
incapable  of  compressing  them.  His  '  Chevalier 
d'llarmenthal,'  which  we  are  inclined  to  consider  one 
of  his  best  novels,  is  contained  in  three  volumes.  His 
'  Impressions  de  Voyage '  abound  in  short  novels  and 
stories  which  are  quite  incompai  able  in  their  way,  like 
pictures  by  Meissonnier  and  Gerome,  Take,  for  dra- 
matic effect,  the  story  told  by  the  monk  of  La  Char- 
treuse ;  or,  for  genuine  humour,  that  of  Pierrot,  the 
donkey,  who  had  such  a  terror  of  fire  and  water  that 
tliey  were  obliged  to  blind  him  before  passing  a  forge 
or  a  bridge.  The  explanation  is,  tliat  two  young  Pa- 
risiiins  had  hired  him  for  a  journey ;  and,  having  recently 
sudered  from  cold,  they  liit  upon  an  expedient  which 
lliey  carried4nto  execution  without  delay.     They  began 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  343 

by  putting  a  layer  of  wet  turf  upon  his  back,  tlien  a 
layer  of  snow,  then  another  layer  of  turf,  and  Justly  a 
bundle  of  firewood,  which  they  lighted,  and  thus  im- 
provised a  moveable  fire  to  warm  them  on  their  walk. 
All  went  well  till  the  turf  was  dried  and  the  fire 
reached  poor  Pierrot's  back,  when  he  set  off  braying, 
kicking,  and  rolling,  till  he  rolled  into  an  icy  stream, 
where  he  lay  for  some  hours ;  so  as  to  be  half  frozen 
after  being  half  roasted.  Hence  the  combination  of 
hydrophobia  and  pyrophobia  which  afflicted  him. 

Where  Dumas  erred  and  fell  behind  was  in  pushing 
to  excess  the  failing  with  which  Byron  reproached 
Scot^.  — 

'  Let  others  spin  their  meagre  brains  for  Lire, 
Enough  for  genius  if  itself  inspire.' 

He  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  making  hay 
whilst  the  sun  shone — of  using  his  popularity  as  if,  like 
the  purse  of  Fortunatus,  it  had  been  inexliaustible — of 
overtasking  his  powers  till,  like  those  of  the  overtasked 
elephant,  they  proved  unequal  to  the  call.  There  was  a 
period,  near  the  end  of  his  life,  when  Theodore  Hook, 
besides  editing  a  newspaper  and  a  magazine,  was  (to  use 
his  own  expression)  driving  three  novels  or  stories  abreast 
— in  other  words,  contemporaneously  composing  them. 
Dumas  boasts  of  having  engaged  for  five  at  once  ;  and 
the  tradesmanlike  manner  in  which  he  made  his 
bargains  was  remarkable.  '  M.  Veron  (the  proprietor 
of  the  '  Constitutionuel ')  came  to  me  and  said  :  "  We 
are  ruined  if  we  do  not  publisli,  within  eight  days, 
an  amusing,  sparkling,  interesting  romance." — "  You 
require  a  volume  :  that  is,  GOOO  lines  :  tliat  is,  135  pages 
of  my  writing.  Here  is  paper ;  number  and  mark 
{paraphez)  135  pages."' 

Sued  for  non-performance  of  contract,  and  pleading 
his  owrr  cause,  he  magniloquently  apostrophised  the 
Court :  '  Th(^.  Academicians  are  Forty.  Let  them  con- 
tract to   supply   you  with  eighty  volumes  in  a  year: 


344  ALEXANDER    DUMAS. 

they  will  make  you  bankrupt !  Alone  I  liave  done 
what  never  man  did  before  nor  ever  will  do  again.' 
We  need  hardly  add  that  the  stipulated  work  was 
imperfectly  and  unequallj'  done — 

'  Sunt  bona,  sunt  mediocria,  sunt  mala  plura.' 

Du  Halde  is  said  to  have  composed  his  '  Description 
geographique  et  historique  '  of  China  without  quitting 
Paris,  and  Dumas  certainly   wrote  '  Quinze  Jours  au 
8inai '  and  '  De  Paris  a  Astracan,'  without  once  setting 
foot  in  Asia.    But  most  of  his  '  Impressions  de  Voyage,' 
in  France,  Italy,  Spain,  &c,,  were  the  results  of  actual 
travel ;  and  his  expedition  to  Algeria  in  a  Government 
steamer  with  a  literary  mission  from  the  Government, 
gave  rise  to  an  animated  debate  in   the  Chamber  of 
Deputies  (February  10,  1847),  in  which  he  was  rudely 
handled    till    M.    de    Salvandy    (Minister    of    Public 
Instruction)  cjime    to  the  rescue,  and,  after  justifying 
the  mission,  added  :  '  The  same  writer  had  received 
similar    missions    under    administrations    anterior    to 
mine.'    Dinnas  (we  are  assured)  meditated  a  challenge 
to  M.  Leon  de  Malleville  for  injurious  words  spoken  in 
this  debate,  and  requested  M.  Viennet,  as  President  of 
the  Society  of  Men  of  Letters,  to  act  as  his  friend.     M. 
Viennet,  after  desiring  the  request  to  be  reduced  to 
writing,  wrote  a  formal  refusal,  alleging  that  M.  Dumas, 
having   in  some  sort,  before  the  civil  tribunal  of  the 
k?eine,  abdicated  the  title  of  man  of  letters  to  assume 
that  of  marquis,  had  no  longer  a  claim  on  the  official 
head  of  the  literary  republic.    Hereupon  the  meditated 
challenge  was  given  up.      The  representation  of  '  Les 
Mohicans  de  Paris,'  a  popular  drama  brought  out  by 
Dumas  in  1SG4,  having  been  prohibited  by  the  Censor- 
shi]),  he  addressed  and  ])rinte(l  a  spirited  remonstrance 
to  the  P^mperor  : 

'Sire, — Tlifre  were  in  1830,  .'Uid  there  are  still,  three  men 
<'iT  the  liead  of  Frcneli  literature.  These  three  men  are 
^'ietur  llu;^<»,  Ijiiiiiailiiie,  and  my  .self. 


ALEXANDER    DUMAS.  345 

*  Victor  Hugo  is  proscribed  ;  Lamartine  is  ruined.  People 
cannot  proscribe  me  like  Hugo  ;  there  is  nothing  in  my  life, 
in  my  writings,  or  in  my  words,  for  proscription  to  festen 
on.  But  they  can  ruin  me  like  Lamartine ;  and  in  effect 
they  are  ruining  me. 

'  I  know  not  what  ill-will  animates  the  Censorship  against 
me.  I  have  written  and  published  twelve  hundred  volumes. 
It  is  not  for  me  to  appreciate  them  in  a  literary  point  of 
view.  Translated  into  all  languages,  they  have  been  as  far  as 
steam  could  carry  them.  Although  I  am  the  least  worthy  of 
the  three,  these  volumes  have  made  me,  in  the  five  parts  of 
the  world,  the  most  popular  of  the  tlu-ee ;  perhaps  because 
one  is  a  thinker,  the  other  a  dreamer,  and  I  am  but  a  vulga- 
riser  (vulgarisateur). 

'  Of  these  twelve  himdred  volumes,  there  is  not  one  which 
may  not  be  given  to  read  to  a  workman  of  the  Faubourg  St. 
Antoine,  the  most  republican — or  to  a  young  girl  of  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Germain,  the  most  modest — of  all  our  faubourgs.' 

His  politics  were  never  incendiary  or  dangerous  in 
any  way.  They  were  always  those  of  a  moderate 
Kepublicaii,  and  he  consistently  adhered  to  them.  His 
best  romances  rarely  transgress  propriety,  and  are 
entirely  free  from  that  hard,  cold,  sceptical,  mate- 
rialist, illusion-destroying  tone,  which  is  so  repelhng  in 
Balzac  and  many  others  of  the  most  popular  French 
novelists.  But  Dumas  must  have  formed  a  strange 
notion  of  the  young  ladies  of  the  noble  faubourg  to 
suppose  that  they  could  sit  out  a  representation  of 
'Antony'  or  '  Angele'  without  a  blush.  After  recapi- 
tulating the  misdeeds  of  the  imperial  censorship  and 
the  enormous  losses  he  had  sustained,  he  concludes  : 

'  I  appeal,  then,  for  the  first  time,  and  probably  for  the 
last,  to  the  prince  wliose  hand  I  had  the  honour  to  clasp  at 
Arenenberg,  at  Ham,  and  at  tlie  Elysee,  and  who,  having 
found  me  in  the  character  of  proselyte  on  the  road  of  exile 
and  on  that  of  the  prison,  has  never  found  me  in  the  character 
of  petitioner  on  the  road  of  the  empire.' 

The  Emperor,  who  never   tui'U'jd  a   deaf  ear  ou   a 


3-16  ALEXANDER   DUMAS. 

proselyte  or  compaiiion  on  either  road,  immediately 
caused  the  prohibition  to  be  withdrawn. 

One  of  the  strangest  episodes  of  the  Neapolitan  revo- 
lution was  the  appearance  of  Alexandre  Dumas  as  its 
aiuiaM.st.  His  arrival  at  Turin,  on  his  way  to  Naples, 
created  a  sensation  ;  and  M.  d'Ideville,  who  had  been 
acquainted  with  him  at  Paris,  was  commissioned  by  the 
Marchesa  Alfieri  (Cavour's  niece)  to  ask  if  it  would  be 
agreeable  to  him  to  meet  Cavour  and  some  other  per- 
sons of  literary  or  political  distinction  at  her  salon. 
The  invitation  was  declined  : 

' "  Convey  my  warmest  acknowledgments  and  deepest 
regrets  to  the  ]Marehesa  :  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  accept. 
Would  you  like  to  know  why  ?  Well,  then,  I  should  meet 
her  uncle,  the  Count  de  Cavour,  and  I  would  not  see  him  for 
any  money.  This  surprises  you,  my  dear  friend.  I  will  tell 
you  my  reason.  I  leave  Turin  in  tAventy-four  hours :  I 
embark  at  Genoa:  in  three  days  I  shall  be  with  Garibaldi. 
I  do  not  know  him,  but  I  have  written  to  him  :  he  expects 
me.  This  man  is  a  hero,  a  sublime  adventurer,  a  jjerson- 
age  of  romance.  With  liim,  out  of  him,  I  expect  to  make 
something.  He  is  a  madman,  a  simpleton,  if  you  like,  but 
an  heroic  simpleton  ;  we  shall  g^ii  on  capitally  together. 
Wliat  would  you  have  me  make  out  of  Cavoiu' ;  me,  re- 
member? Cavour  is  a  great  statesman,  a  consummate 
politician,  a  man  of  genius.  He  is  a  cut  above  Garibaldi ; 
don't  I  know  it?  But  lie  does  not  wear  a  red  shirt.  He 
wears  a  black  coat,  a  white  cravat,  like  an  advocate  or  a 
diploinate.  I  should  see  him,  I  shoidd  converse  with  liim, 
and,  like  so  many  others,  I  should  be  seduced  by  his  play 
of  mind  and  his  good  sense.  Adieu  to  my  promising  ex- 
pedition. ]My  Garibaldi  would  be  spoilt.  On  no  considera- 
tiuii,  llicii,  will  I  see  your  President  of  the  Council.  He 
cjiiiuot.  bo  my  man  any  more  than  I  can  be  liis.  T  am  an 
artist,  and  Garibaldi  alone  has  attractions  for  me.  Altliough 
I  vif^it  no  one  here  })ut  d('])utios  of  the  Extreme  Left, 
]')r(iJferio,  and  others,  tell  M.  Cavour,  I  beg,  that  T  fly  from 
liim  because  I  admire  him;  and  make  Iiiin  clciirly  under- 
bland  why  1  (piit  Tuiiu  wifliout  seeing  Jiim.'' ' ' 

'   .Jniiiiial  (run  I  liiildiiiiitc  en  Italic.     Paris,  1872. 


ALEXANDER   DUMAS.  347 

Dumas  judged  rightly.  He  would  have  made  no- 
thing out  of  Cavour,  and  he  made  a  very  good  thing 
out  of  Garibaldi ;  althougli  not  exactly  as  he  liad 
anticipated,  namely,  by  treating  him  artistically  and 
making  him  the  picturesque  hero  of  a  romance.  Gari- 
baldi was  too  picturesque  already  to  stand  any  fresh 
draping  and  colouring.  As  not  unfrequently  ha])pens, 
no  ideal  could  surpass  the  real,  no  fiction  could  im- 
prove upon  the  ftict.  He  stood  in  no  need  of  the  vate 
sacro  ;  in  his  case,  the  simplest  chronicler  was  the  best, 
and  the  simplest  might  well  be  suspected  of  exaggera- 
tion by  posterity.  Dumas's  books  on  Garibaldi  and  his 
exploits  never  attracted  much  attention  and  are  already 
forgotten.  But  the  hero  and  the  romanticist  became 
sworn  friends  at  sight,  and  Dumas  was  immediately 
installed  in  the  palace  of  Chiatamone  with  the  title  and 
perquisites  of  Superintendent  or  Director  of  the  Fine 
Arts.  Here  he  lived  at  free  quarters  till  the  dictator- 
ship ended  and  order  was  restored. 

The  next  time  Dumas  passed  through  Turin,  M. 
dTdeville  met  him  at  a  supper  party,  Garibaldi  became 
the  subject  of  conversation,  and  it  appeared  that  Dumas's 
enthusiasm  had  been  in  no  respect  lessened  by  fami- 
liarity : 

# 

'  Towards  the  end  of  the  entertainment,  to  close  the  series 

of  anecdotes  relating  to  the  dictator :  "  See  here,"  said 
Dumas,  with  singular  solemnity  and  unfolding  a  scrap  of 
paper,  "here  are  lines  written  by  him  which  shall  never 
quit  me !  You  must  know,  my  friends,  that  having  had  a 
fancy  to  see  Victor  Emmanuel,  whom  I  do  not  know,  I  asked 
Garibaldi  for  a  note  of  introduction  to  present  to  tlie  King-." 
"  Here,"  replied  Garibaldi,  handing  me  these  words  liastily 
written,  "  this  will  he  your  passport."  And  the  charming 
narrator  passed  round  the  scrap  of  crumpled  paper,  which 
contained  this  uniepie  phrase :  "  Slre^  recevez  iJumas,  c'l'st 
mon  ami  et  le  voire. — G.  Garihaldir  "  You  may  well 
believe,"  added  Dumas,  respectfully  replacing  the  letter  in 
his  breast  pocket,  "  that  to  preserve  this  autognqjh,  which 


348  ALEX.\XDER   BOIAS. 

tlie  King-  would  doubtless  have  desired  to  keep,  I  deprived 
myself,  without  regret,  of  the  acquaintance  of  King  Victor. 
And  now  that  the  sovereign  has  shown  his  ingratitude 
towards  Garibaldi,  to  whom  he  is  so  much  obliged,  you  may 
judge  whether  he  will  not  have  a  long  time  to  wait  for  my 
visit."' 

The  illness  which  ended  with  his  death,  brought  on 
a  complete  paralysis  of  all  his  faculties,  and  he  died 
towards  the  close  of  1870,  happily  insensible  to  the 
hourly  increasing  disasters  and  humiliations  of  his 
countr3^ 

Occurring  at  a  less  anxious  and  occupied  period, 
his  death  would  have  been  conmiemorated  as  one  of 
the  leading  events  of  the  year,  and  it  would  hardly 
have  been  left  to  a  foreign  journal  to  pay  the  first 
earnest  tribute  to  his  memory.  Take  him  for  all  in 
all,  he  richly  merits  a  niche  in  the  Temple  of  Fame ; 
and  what  writer  does  not  who  has  been  unceasingly 
before  the  pubhc  for  nearly  half  a  century  without 
once  forfeiting  his  popularity  ? — whose  multifarious  pro- 
ductions have  been  equally  and  constantly  in  request 
in  London,  Paris,  St.  Petersburg,  Vienna,  Calcutta, 
Sydney,  and  Xew  York.  Think  of  the  amount  of 
amusement  and  information  he  has  diffused,  the  weary 
hours  he  has  helped  to  while  away,  the  despondency 
he  has  liglitened,  the  sick-beds  he  has  relieved,  the 
gay  fancies,  the  humorous  associations,  the  inspiriting 
tlioughts,  we  owe  to  him.  To  lie  on  a  sofa  and  read 
eternal  new  novels  of  Marivaux  and  Crebillon,  was  the 
beau  ideal,  the  day  dream,  of  Gray,  one  of  the  choicest 
and  most  fastidious  minds  of  the  eighteenth  century ; 
and  what  is  there  of  Marivaux  or  Crebillon  to  compete 
in  attractiveness  with  the  wondrous  fortunes  of  a 
Monte  Christo  or  tlie  chivalrous  adventures  of  a 
D'Artngnan  ? 

A  title  to  fame,  like  a  cliain  of  ])ro()fs,  may  be  cumu- 
lative.     It  may  rest  on   tlie   nuihi[)licity  and  univer- 


ALEXANDER    DUMAS.  349 

sality  of  production  and  capacity.  Voltaire,  for  ex- 
ample, who  symbolises  an  age,  produced  no  one  work 
in  poetry  or  prose  that  approximates  to  first-rate  in  its 
kind,  if  we  except  '  Candide '  and  '  Zadig  ;'  and  their 
kind  is  not  tlie  fii'st.  Dumas  must  be  judged  by  tlie 
same  standard ;  as  one  who  was  at  everything  in  the 
ring,  whose  foot  was  ever  in  the  stirrup,  whose  lance 
was  ever  in  the  rest,  who  infused  new  life  into  the 
acting  drama,  indefinitely  extended  ■  the  domain  of 
fiction,  and  (in  his  '  Impressions  de  Voyage ')  invented 
a  new  literature  of  the  road.  So  judged — as  he  will 
be,  when  French  criticism  shall  raise  its  drooping  head 
and  have  time  to  look  about  it — he  will  certainly  take 
rank  as  one  of  the  three  or  four  most  popular,  influ- 
ential and  gifted  writers  that  the  France  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  has  produced. 


350 


SALONS. 
(From  Fkaser's  Magazine,  May  1806,) 

Les  Salons  de  Paris:  Foyers  eteints.    Par  Madame  Ancelot. 

Paris,  1858. 
Les  Salons  d' Autrefois :  Souvenirs  intimes.     Par  iNIadame 

la  Comtesse  de  Bassanville.  Preface deM.  Louis  Enault. 

Paris,  1862. 
Rahel  itnd  ihre  Zelt.   Von  E.  Schmidt  Weissenfels.    Leipzig, 

1851. 
EHnnerungsbldtter.   Von  A.  von  Sternberg.    Leipzig,  1857. 
The  Queens  of  Society.     By  Grace  and  Philip  Wharton. 

In  Two  Volumes.     London,  1863. 

The  club  is  an  essentially  masculine  institution :  the 
seat,  the  central  point,  of  female  influence  is  the  salon  ; 
and  an  important  social  question  is  consequently 
involved  in  the  fact  that  clubs  have  multiplied  and 
thriven  in  England,  whilst  the  salofi  can  scarcely  be 
said  to  have  taken  root  or  prospered  largely  out  of 
France.  So  little,  indeed,  is  the  institution  understood 
in  this  country,  that  we  shall  probably  be  required  at 
the  outset  to  explain  the  precise  meaning  of  the  term  ; 
and  we  are  not  aware  that  we  can  sup})ly  a  better 
description  or  definition  than  we  find  at  the  conunence- 
ment  of  one  of  the  books  whicli  we  propose  to 
use  as  the  text-books  of  this  article  : 

'  When  we  speak  of  salons,''  says  Madame  Ancelot,  '  it  is 
well  undert^tood  that  a  salon  has  notliiug  in  common  with 
those  numerous  fetes  where  we  crowd  togetlier  people, 
strangers  to  one  another,  who  do  not  converse,  and  who  are 
there   only  to   d^nce,  to  hear  music,  or  to   display    dresses 


SALONS.  351 

more  or  less  sumptuous.  No  ;  tliat  is  uol  wlial  is  ciillrd  ;i 
salon.  A  salon  is  an  intimate  reunion,  whicli  lasts  several 
years,  where  we  get  acquainted  and  look  for  one  anotlier  : 
where  we  are  glad  to  meet,  and  with  good  reason.  The 
persons  who  receive  are  a  tie  between  those  who  are  invited, 
and  this  tie  is  the  closer  when  the  recognised  merit  of  a 
clever  woman  (femme  cresprit)  has  formed  it. 

'  But  many  other  things  are  required  to  form  a  salon  : 
congenial  habits,  ideas,  and  tastes ;  that  urbanity  which 
quickly  establishes  relations,  alloius  talking  ivith  everybody 
luithout  being  acquainted — ivkich  in  the  olden  time  luas  a 
proof  of  good  education,  and  of  familiarity  with  circles  to 
which  none  luere  admitted  othenvise  than  on  the  supposi- 
tion of  their  being  ivorthy  to  mix  ivith  the  greatest  and 
best.  This  continual  exchange  of  ideas  makes  kno^vn  the 
value  of  each :  he  or  she  is  most  welcome  who  brings  most 
agreeability,  without  regard  to  rank  or  fortune ;  and  one  is 
appreciated,  I  might  almost  say  loved,  for  what  one  has  of 
real  merit :  the  true  king  of  this  kind  of  republic  is  the 
mind  (esprit)  I 

'  There  were  formerly  in  France  many  salons  of  this 
kind,  which  have  given  the  tone  to  all  the  salons  of 
Europe.  The  most  cited  were  those  in  which  was  carried 
fartliest  the  art  of  saying  good  things  well,  of  pouring  forth 
mind,  of  diffusing  it  to  be  born  anew,  and  of  multiplying  it 
by  contact.  ]Mauy  of  these  salons  have  acquired  celebrity, 
and  if  they  have  been  less  numerous  and  less  before  the 
public  in  our  time,  it  is  that,  in  general,  intelligence  hfts 
been  more  actively  employed,  and  moreover  that  politics 
have  made  such  a  noise  as  prevented  anything  from  being 
heard.' 

Politics,  Ave  regret  to  sny,  have  had  a  still  worse 
effect  on  France  than  preventing  anything  from  being 
heard :  they  have  also  gone  far  towards  preventing 
anything  from  being  said — that  is,  anytlhng  frankly, 
freely,  or  carelessly,  anything  which  could  be  twisted 
to  the  disadvantage  of  the  speaker  ;  and  the  complete 
absence  of  distrust  is  essential  to  the  salo?i.  It  is  for 
this  reason  probably  that  the  printed  experiences  of 
Mesdames  de  Bassanville  and  Ancelot  break  oil"  some 


S'yl  SALOXS. 

t\vcuty-fi\o  years  back,  when  gentlemen  and  ladies  had 
not  begun  to  look  round  them  in  a  crowded  room 
before  alluding  to  any  of  the  topics  included  in  the 
well-known  Index  Expurgatorius  of  Figaro  :  '  either  to 
authority,  or  religion,  or  morahty,  or  to  people  in 
place,  or  to  people  out  of  place,  or,  in  short,  to 
anything  that  really  concerns  anybody.' 

The  work  of  the  ComtessedeBassanville  is  a  posthumous 
publication  with  a  preface  by  the  editor,  who  states 
that  '  the  happy  apropos  of  her  birth  placed  her  on  the 
limits  of  two  worlds,  at  the  moment  when  the  old 
society  which  was  crumbling,  was  confronted  with  the 
new  society  which  was  preparing  to  succeed  it.'  •  The 
doors  of  both,  he  adds,  were  opened  to  her  by  her 
connections.  Her  sister-in-law,  the  Duchesse  de 
Laviano,  Neapolitan  Ambassadress  at  Paris,  introduced 
her  to  the  Princess  de  Vaudemont.  Her  father  was 
the  intimate  friend  of  Isabey,  the  painter ;  and  one 
of  her  uncles  had  made  the  campaign  of  Egypt  with 
Bourrienue.  She  was  also  related  to  the  great  Par- 
liamentary families  of  Provence,  through  whom  she 
became  free  of  the  salon  of  the  C(3mtesse  de  Eumfort. 

Madame  Anceh^t,  the  wife  of  the  dramatic  author 
and  academician,  was  herself  the  mistress  of  a  very 
agreeable  salon,  which  boasted  a  fair  sprinkling  of 
notabihties.  She  was  honourably  distinguished  both  in 
hterature  and  art,  and  her  attractions  were  not  limited 
to  her  intellectual  gifts  or  accomplishments.  She  was 
in  as  well  as  of  the  world  which  she  undertakes  to 
portray  :  she  puts  down  little  or  nothing  at  secondhand  ; 
and  her  sketches  are  almost  always  redolent  of 
reality  and  life.  She  is  so  wedded  to  self-dependence 
that  she  has  not  even  ventured  on  an  introductory 
retrospect  of  tlic  brilliant  salons  or  circles  of  antecedent 
periods,  like  those  when  the  Precieuses  i\s^Gmh\Q.(\  in  the 
Hotel  Rambouillet,  or  the  Du  DefTantsand  D'Epinays  (as 
described  by  Sydney  Smith)  '  violated  all  the  connnon 


SALONS.  353 

duties  of  life,  and  gave  very  pleasant  littk;  suj)|)eis.' 
The  only  instance  in  which  she  trusts  to  tradition,  con- 
firmed by  personal  impressions  of  a  later  date,  is  in 
describing  the  salon  of  Madame  Le  Brun,  which  was 
founded  prior  to  the  Ee volution  of  1789  and,  renewed 
repeatedly  at  long  intervals,  survived  the  Eevolutioa 
of  July. 

Madame  Le  Brun  was  largely  endowed  with  all  the 
chief  requisites  for  the  position  at  which  she  aimed. 
She  had  beauty,  charm  of  manner,  and  celebrity — that 
kind  of  celebrity,  too,  which  necessarily  brings  the 
possessor  into  direct  contact  with  other  first-class  cele- 
brities. She  was  the  female  Reynolds  or  Lawrence 
of  her  day  :  perhaps  the  most  successful  portrait-painter 
of  her  sex  that  ever  hved.  She  was  elected  a 
member  of  all  the  continental  academies  of  painting, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  being  invested  with  the  cordon 
of  St.  Michel,  when  the  old  monarchy  was  swept  away. 
She  visited  most  of  the  Euro|3ean  capitals,  where  her 
fame  had  preceded  her  ;  and  her  success  kept  pace 
with  her  fame.  She  Avas  received  by  Catherine  of 
Eussia  with  the  same  fovom*  which  had  been  lavished 
on  her  by  her  first  patroness,  tlie  ill-starred  Marie 
Antoinette  ;  and  she  sent  from  Italy  a  picture  (her 
portrait  of  Paesillo)  which,  when  placed  alongside 
of  a  picture  by  David,  extorted  from  him  the  bitter 
avowal :  '  One  would  believe  my  picture  painted  by  a 
woman  and  the  portrait  of  Paesillo  by  a  man.' 

It  was  Mademoiselle  de  Staal,  we  beheve,  who, 
when  her  httle  room  was  full,  called  out  to  the  fresh 
arrivals  on  the  staircase,  '  Attendez  que  mes  sieges  soient 
vides,'  Madame  Le  Brun  was  frequently  in  the  same 
predicament  in  her  small  apartment  of  the  Eue  de 
Clery,  where,  for  want  of  vacant  chairs,  marshals  of 
France  might  be  seen  seated  on  the  floor ;  a  cu'cuni- 
stance  rendered  memorable  by  the  embarrassment  of 
Marshal  de  Noailles,  an  enormously  fat  man,  who  was 

VOL.    I.  A  A 


354  SALOXS. 

once  iiiial)le  to  get  up  again.  The  Conite  de  Vaudreuil, 
the  Prince  de  Ligne,  Diderot,  D'Alembert,  Marniontel, 
La  Harpe,  with  a  host  of  great  ladies,  were  amongst  the 
throng,  wliich  also  comprised  a  foir  allowance  of 
ori'nnals,  A  farmer-G^eneral,  named  Grimod  de  la 
Keyniere,  was  conspicuous  in  this  character,  if  only  by 
dint  of  his  hair,  which  was  ciu'led  and  puffed  to  a 
breadth  and  height  that  rendered  the  putting  on  of  his 
hat  an  impossibility.  A  short  man  who  occupied  the 
seat  behind  him  at  the  opera,  finding  the  view  com- 
pletely obstructed,  contrived  little  by  little  to  perforate 
a  seeing  place  through  the  mass  with  his  fingers. 
Grimod  de  la  Eeyniere  never  stirred  during  the 
operation  or  the  performance,  but  when  the  piece 
terminated,  he  ckew  a  comb  from  his  pocket  and 
calmly  presented  it  to  the  gentleman,  w^ith  these  words : 
'  Monsieur,  I  have  permitted  you  to  see  the  ballet  at 
your  ease,  not  to  interfere  witli  your  amusement :  it  is 
now  your  turn  not  to  interfere  with  mine  :  I  am  going 
to  a  supper  party  ;  you  must  see  that  I  cannot  appear 
there  with  my  hair  in  its  present  state,  and  you 
will  have  the  goodness  to  ariTiuge  it  properly  or 
to-morrow  we  cross  swords.'  The  peaceful  alternative 
was  laughingly  accepted  and  they  parted  friends. 

A  similar  adventure  is  related  of  Turenne  in  his 
youth,  and  ended  less  agreeably  for  the  future  hero, 
who  had  cut  off  the  side  curls  of  an  elderly 
chevalier  in  tlie  pit,  in  oi'dcr  to  see  bettei".  The 
offended  seiiior  was  one  of  the  best  swordsmen  in  Paris, 
and  Turenne  was  severely  wounded  in  the  duel  that 
ensued.  Not  long  after  his  recovery,  he  fell  in  with 
his  old  antagonist,  who  insisted  on  a  renewal  of 
t1ie  combat,  with  the  pleasing  intimation  that  a  third  or 
fourth  meeting  miglit  still  leave  the  satisfaction  of 
wounded  honour  incomplete.  Turenne  was  run 
througli  tlie  sword-arm  and  confined  to  liis  room  for 
some  weeks,  at  the  end  of  wliicli  he  was  tliinking  how 


SALONS.  355 

best  to  evade  tlic  further  consequences  of  liis  indiscretion, 
when  he  was  opportunely  reheved  by  tlie  death  of 
tlie  chevaher. 

The  name  is  peculiar  and  a  Griinod  de  la  Reyniere 
was  the  editor  and  priucipal  writer  of  the  Alnianach 
des  Gourmajid^,  wliich  set  the  fashion  of  that  senii- 
serions  mode  of  discussing  gastronomic  subjects  in 
which  Brillat-Savarin  shone  pre-eminent  and  which,  we 
trnst,  mil  henceforth  be  di'opped,  for  nothing  can  be 
worse  than  the  taste  and  style  of  recent  plagiarists  and 
imitators.  It  was  Grimod  de  la  E'eyniere  who  said 
that  a  gala  dinner  occupied  him  five  hours,  although 
he  Could  dispatch  an  ordinary  one  in  three  hom^s 
and  a  half,  cantioning  his  readers  not  to  infer  that  he 
was  a  bad  breakfast-eater. 

Another  of  Madame  Le  Brun's  Jiabitm's^  the  Comte 
d'Espinchal,  prided  himself  on  knowing  every- 
body belongiug  to  what  was  termed  society  ;  and  one 
night  at  an  opera  ball  he  gave  a  singular  proof  of  the 
extent  and  accuracy  of  his  information.  Seeing  a 
stranger  much  agitated,  hurrying  from  one  room  to 
another  and  examining  group  after  group,  he 
volunteered  to  aid  him  in  the  search  in  which  he  Avas 
apparentl}^  engaged.  The  stranger  stated  that  he  had 
arrived  that  very  morning  from  Orleans  with  his  wife^ 
that  she  had  begged  to  be  taken  to  the  ball ;  that  he 
had  lost  lier  in  the  crowd,  and  that  she  knew  neither 
the  name  of  their  hotel  nor  that  of  the  street  in  wliich 
they  had  been  set  down.  'Make  yourself  easy,'  said 
M.  d'Espinchal,  '  your  wife  is  sitting  in  the  foyer  by 
the  second  window.  I  will  take  you  to  her.'  He  did 
so,  and  on  being  asked  how  he  had  recognised  her,  he 
replied,  '  Xothing  is  more  simple  :  your  wife  is  the  only 
woman  in  the  ball  tliat  I  do  not  know,  and  I  to(^k  it 
for  "ranted  that  she  had  just  arrived  from  the  count rv.' 
The  husband  was  profuse  in  his  thanks  ;    but  we  are 

A   A   2 


35(^,  SALOXS. 

left  in  doubt  whetlier  tlie  wife  was  equally  grateful  for 
the  discovery. 

David,  tlie  painter,  who  attached  an  undue  importance 
to  social  distinctions  from  want  of  early  familiarit}'  with 
people  of  rank,  was  blaming  Madame  Le  Brun  for  re- 
ceiving so  many  great  lords  and  ladies.  '  Ah ! '  was 
her  reply,  '  you  are  mortified  at  not  being  a  duke  or 
marquis  ;  as  for  me,  to  whom  titles  are  indifferent,  I 
receive  all  agreeable  people  with  pleasure.'  This  was 
the  secret  of  her  success. 

The  second  salon  on  Madame  Ancelot's  list  is  also 
that  of  a  painter,  Gerard,  whose  reputation,  dating  from 
the  commencement  of  the  century,  speedily  became 
European.  He  ended,  we  are  told,  by  painting  all  the 
crowned  heads  of  the  Continent ;  and  it  was  said  of  him 
that  he  was  at  once  the  painter  of  kings  and  the  king 
of  painters.  His  houses,  in  town  and  country,  were 
open  to  tlie  elite  of  every  land  who  happened  to  be  so- 
journing in  Paris  ;  and  amongst  his  intimates  are  enu- 
merated Madame  de  Stael,  Talleyrand,  Pozzo  di  Borgo, 
Cuvier,  Humboldt,  Eossini,  Martinez  de  la  Eosa,  Alfred 
de  Vign}^  Beyle,  Merimee,  &c.  &c.  '  In  whatever 
Gerard  had  set  about,'  remarks  Madame  Ancelot,  '  he 
would  have  succeeded  so  as  to  have  been  found  in  the 
first  line,  and  although  born  in  an  inferior  condition, 
however  high  the  rank  to  which  he  had  attained,  he 
would  never  have  been  a  parvenu  ;  he  w^ould  have  been 
an  arrive — arrived  by  the  main  road,  in  the  light  of  day, 
in  the  sight,  with  the  knowledge  and  with  the  appro- 
bation of  all.'  We  sliould  be  puzzled  to  name  an 
instance  in  which  the  distinctive  merit  of  the  French 
language  is  more  strikingly  illustrated  than  by  the  con- 
trast of  arrive  with  parvenu} 

Gerard's  Wednesdays  lasted  with  rare  intermissions 
for  ihirly  years  ;  and  their  attractive  character  may  be 

'  It  was  Tiilleyrand  who  first  placed  these  words  in  strong  contrast.  On 
Bome  one  iipi)l}ii)g^)«/fe//«  to  M.  Thiers,  *No,'  said  Tallcvrand  '  «rm-<?.' 


SALONS.  857 

collected  from  llic  varied  coiiiplexioii  iind  acquireiiieuts 
of  the  company.  The  evening  of  her  matriculation, 
Madame  Ancelot  found  Gerard  relating  as  a  fact  what 
certainly  sounds  very  like  a  fable  or  an  acted  proverb. 

The  scene  is  Florence.  A  young  man  of  rank  calls 
on  a  painter  named  Carlo  Pedi'ero,  to  order  a  picture 
of  Hymen.  '  "  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  I  want  it 
the  day  before  my  marriage  with  the  beautiful  Fran- 
cesca.  The  God  of  Marriage  liiust  be  accompanied 
by  all  the  Graces  and  all  the  Joys  :  his  torch  must  he 
more  brilliant  than  that  of  Love :  the  expression  of  his 
face  must  be  more  celestial,  and  his  happiness  must 
appear  to  be  borro\ved  more  from  heaven  than  from 
earth.  Tax  your  imagination  to  the  uttermost  and  I 
will  pay  you  in  proportion." 

'The  painter  surpassed  himself:  what  he  brought 
the  day  before  the  wedding  was  a  genuine  masterpiece  ; 
but  the  young  man  was  not  satisfied,  and  maintained 
that  Hymen  was  far  from  being  painted  with  all  his 
charms.  The  artist  took  the  criticism  in  good  part : 
made  the  best  excuse  in  his  power  on  the  ground  of 
haste  :  said  that  the  colours  would  mellow  with  time  ; 
and  took  leave,  promising  to  have  the  picture  ready  by 
the  return  of  the  bridegroom  from  his  honeymoon  tn\ju 
At  the  expiration  of  some  months,  the  votary  of  Hymen 
came  to  claim  the  picture,  and  on  the  first  glance  ex- 
claimed, "  Ah,  you  had  good  reason  to  say  that  time 
would  improve  your  picture  !  What  a  difference  !  How- 
ever, I  cannot  help  telling  you  that  the  face  of  Hymen  is 
too  gay  :  you  have  given  him  a  joybeaming  air  which  by 
no  means  belongs  to  him."  "  Sir,"  replied  the  painter, 
laughing,  "  it  is  not  my  picture  that  has  changed,  but 
yom-  state  of  feeling.  Some  months  ago  you  were  in 
love,  now  you  are — married."  ' 

Gerard  had  finished  his  stor}^  in  the  middle  of  the 
applauding  merriment  which  it  provoked,  when  one  of 
the  hsteners   struck   in :    '  And  do    you   know  what 


358  SALONS. 

happened  afterwards?'  Eveiy  eye  turned  to  liim. 
He  was  about  the  same  age  as  Gerard,  a  httle  taller, 
with  refined,  intelhgent  and  animated  features,  and  his 
Avhole  exterior  conveyed  the  impression  of  a  man  of 
family  with  distinction,  carelessness  and  wit.  He  con- 
tinued, smiling  :  '  The  painter,  content  with  the  price 
he  had  received,  promised  to  represent  Hymen  so  as 
to  please  both  lovers  and  husbands,  and  after  some 
months  he  opened  his  rooms  to  the  public  for  the  ex- 
hibition of  this  masterpiece,  perhaps  imprudently 
promised.  The  public  came,  but  only  a  few  were 
admitted  at  a  time.  The  picture  Avas  placed  in  a  long 
gallery,  and  quite  at  the  end.  The  effect  of  the  colom's 
was  so  contrived  as  to  render  the  portrait  of  Hymen 
appear  charming  to  those  who  saAv  it  fi'om  a  distance, 
but,  seen  close,  it  was  no  longer  the  same  and  nothing 
that  had  so  chaniied  was  discovered  in  it.' 

This  ingenious  and  improvised  continuation  was  duly 
applauded,  not  the  less  when  the  narrator  stood  con- 
fessed as  one  of  the  royalties  of  science,  Alexander  von 
Humboldt.  There  is  a  story,  however,  that  compresses 
the  point  of  the  narrative  in  two  pithy  sentences,  that  of 
the  Irishman  exclaimino;  :  '  Durinf^  the  fust  three 
months  after  my  marriage  I  was  so  fond  of  my  wife 
that  I  was  ready  to  eat  her  up :  at  the  end  of  the 
second  three  months  I  was  sorry  I  did  not.' 

We  are  introduced  to  the  Duchesse  d'Abrantcs  at  the 
house  of  Madame  Ancelot,  exclaiming  :  '  Qu'ou  a  done 
bien  ainsi  la  nuit  pour  causer.  On  ne  craint  ni  les 
ennuyeux  ni  les  creanciers.'  Here  was  the  secret ;  she 
was  never  out  of  debt,  yet  she  would  have  her  salon^ 
whether  in  a  ])alacc  or  a  garret ;  and  distinguished 
fiiends  flocked  round  her  to  the  last.  Her  eldest  son 
resembled  her  in  improvidence.  It  was  he  who  pro- 
duced a  piece  of  stamped  paper  A\ith  tlu^  remark:  'You 
see  this  piece  of  paper.  It  iswoith  25  rciitimes;  when 
I  have  writtcni  niv  name  at  the  bolloin.  it  will  be  worth 


SALONS-  359 

nothing.'  She  was  the  widow  of  Junot,  and  descended 
from  the  imperial  family  of  Comnene.  Balzac,  after  his 
presentation  to  her,  exclaimed  :  '  That  woman  has  seen 
Napoleon  in  his  infancy ;  has  seen  him  a  yonng  man, 
still  nnknown  ;  has  seen  him  occupied  with  the  common 
affairs  of  life ;  then  she  has  seen  him  grow  great, 
mount  high,  and  cover  the  world  with  his  name.  She 
is  to  me  like  one  of  the  blessed  who  should  come  and 
seat  himself  at  my  side,  after  having  dwelt  in  heaven 
close  to  God.'  In  his  own  lodo;ino;s  he  had  erected  a 
little  altar  to  Napoleon  with  the  inscription  :  '  Ce  qu'il 
avait  commence  par  Tepee,  je  I'acheverai  par  la  plume. 

Associated  with  this  salon  is  the  memory  of  the 
Marquise  de  Polastron,  the  heroine  of  a  romantic  pas- 
sion which  has  well  earned  a  record  by  its  durability 
and  effects.  She  was  the  beloved  of  the  Comte  d'Artois, 
afterwards  Charles  X.,  whom  she  followed  to  England 
in  1792,  She  there  gave  herself  up  to  devotion,  and 
on  her  deathbed  imparted  her  religious  convictions  to 
the  Prince  in  the  sincere  and  avowed  hope  of  securing 
their  reunion  in  a  better  world.  Young,  handsome  and 
gallant  as  he  was  at  this  epoch,  he  promised  complete 
fidelity  which  no  time  should  alter.  Madame  Ance- 
lot  believes  that  he  kept  his  word  and  '  on  the  throne 
as  well  as  in  exile,  nothing  could  distract  him  from  Aic 
austerity  of  a  life,  all  the  poetry  of  which  was  an  ardent 
aspiration  towards  that  heaven  where  the  woman  he  so 
fondly  loved  was  expecting  him.' 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  anything  new  of  Madame 
Eecamier,  or  to  improve  upon  Madame  Mohl's  sketch 
of  her  beautiful  and  fascinating  friend;^  but  there  is  a 
subdued  and  refined  malice  in  Madame  Ancelot's  im- 
pressions of  this  celebrated  lady  and  her  salon  that 
tempts  us  to  borrow  a  tiait  or  two.  Despite  her 
personal  attractions,  the  charm  by  which    she    drew 

^  Maclaine  Tiecamici' ;  rvith  a  Sketch  oftlie  History  of  Society  in  France, 
r.v  Madame  M  *   '   '.     London,  18G2." 


360  SALONS. 

arouud  her  such  a  succession  of  illustrious  adniii-ers  is 
pronounced,  on  carefid  analysis,  to  have  been  neither 
more  nor  less  than  flattery.  She  is  compared  to  Sterne's 
beofrar,  who  never  failed  to  extort  a  donation  from  rich 
and  poor,  old  and  young,  the  most  occupied  and  the 
most  uncharitable,  by  a  dexterous  appeal  to  their  self- 
love  ;  and  her  stereotyped  phrase  in  addressing  an 
artist,  writer,  or  orator  of  note,  is  reported  to  have  run 
thus  :  '  The  emotion  which  I  feel  at  the  sight  of  a 
superior  man  prevents  me  fi'om  expressing,  as  I  could 
M'ish,  all  my  admiration,  all  my  sympathy.  But  you 
guess — you  comprehend — my  emotion  says  enough.' 

This,  or  something  like  it,  murmured  in  tremulous 
tones,  with  a  befitting  accompaniment  of  glances,  seldom 
or  never  failed  ;  and  neither  pains  nor  expense  were 
spared  to  bring  any  one  whom  she  especially  wished 
to  fascinate  within  reach  of  her  spell.  An  amusing 
story  is  told  of  her  hirincr  a  house  at  Auteuil  in  order 
to  get  acquainted  with  a  statesman  in  power  who  had 
taken  up  his  temporary  residence  there  for  his  health. 
The  plot,  we  regret  to  say,  failed  ;  either  for  want  of 
sufficient  opportunity  or  by  reason  of  the  pre-occupa- 
tion  of  the  intended  victim. 

'  The  talent,  labour  and  skill  which  she  wasted  in  her 
salon '  (says  Tocqueville)  '  would  have  gained  and  go- 
verned an  empire.  She  was  virtuous,  if  it  be  virtuous 
to  persuade  every  one  of  a  dozen  men  that  you  wish 
to  favour  him,  though  some  circumstance  always  oc- 
curs to  prevent  your  doing  so.  Every  friend  thouglit 
himself  preferred.'  She  was  virtuous  (physically)  be- 
cause she  could  not  help  being  so.  If  report  says  true, 
she  was  in  the  state  of  compelled  continence  to  which 
Louis  Seize  was  condemned  during  the  eaiiy  years  of 
his  married  life. 

Cliateaubriand,  we  need  hardly  state,  was  for  many 
years  the  distingnishing  feature  of  her  salon,  Avhere  he 
was  worshipped  (to    borrow  Beyle's  simile)    like    the 


SALOXS.  301 

Grand  Lama.  Wliun  lie  dcio-ned  to  talk,  everybody 
was  bound  to  listen  ;  and  iiolxxly  was  allowed  to  talk 
a  moment  longer  than  seemed  agreeable  to  the  idol, 
who  had  well-understood  ways  of  intimating  his  weari- 
someness  or  impatience.  When  he  was  moderately 
tired  of  the  speaker,  he  stroked  an  ugly  cat  placed  pur- 
posely on  a  chair  by  his  side ;  when  tired  beyond 
endurance,  he  began  playing  with  a  bell-rope  con- 
veniently hung  within  reach.  This  was  the  signal  for 
Madame  de  Recamier  to  rush  to  the  rescue,  coute  que 
coute.  His  deafness,  too,  was  observed  to  come  and 
go  upon  occasions  ;  confirming  Talleyrand's  sarcastic 
remark,  that  the  author  of  the  Genie  du  Christianisme 
lost  his  sense  of  hearini^  about  the  time  when  the  world 
left  off  talking  of  him.  His  vanity  was  excessive,  but 
he  knew  his  weakness  and  could  trifle  with  it ;  as 
Madame  Ancelot  bears  testimony,  by  repeating  his  own 
story  of  what  fell  out  at  the  first  representation  of  his 
tragedy  of  Mo'ise  at  the  Odeon  theatre  : 

'  I  went  to  bed,'  he  said,  '  not  Avishing  to  make  any 
change  in  my  habits,  lest  people  should  believe  me 
anxious  about  the  result.'  '  But,'  added  he,  with  a  smile, 
'  the  fact  is,  I  did  not  go  to  sleep,  and  I  waited  with  im- 
patience the  arrival  of  my  old  servant,  whom  I  had 
sent  with  directions  to  see  and  listen  attentively,  so 
as  to  give  me  an  account  of  what  took  place.  I  was 
kept  waiting  a  long  time  for  his  return,  which  in- 
duced me  to  hope  that  the  piece  had  been  acted  to 
the  end ;  and  I  was  begimiing  to  laugh  at  myself  for 
refusing  to  receive  news  of  my  work  through  my  friends, 
coni])c'lent  judges,  and  for  expecting  anxiously  the 
o[)inion  of  my  domestic,  when  he  entered  uncere- 
moniously, excusing  himself  for  arriving  so  late  on 
the  ground  of  the  length  of  the  spectacle,  but  saying 
notliing  of  what  had  happened.  I  was  obliged  to 
question  hini. 

'-Well,  how  did  it  gooff?" 


362  SALOXS. 

'  "  Perfectly,  Monsieur  le  Vicomte.  Tliey  did  indeed 
try  to  make  a  little  noise." 

'  "  During  the  tragedy  ?  " 

'  "  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Vicomte,  during  the  tragedy. 
But  that  did  not  last  long,  and  they  soon  got  merry 
again." 

'  "  Merry  ?  during  the  tragedy?  " 

'  "  Oh,  yes,  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  ;  I  will  answer  for 
it  that  they  w^ere  ]3leased  in  the  pit  ^^•here  I  was,  for 
they  never  left  off  laughing,  and  saying  such  funny 
things  that  I  laughed  heartily  too." ' 

This  may  pair  off  with  Charles  Lamb's  story  of  what 
occurred  during  the  first  (and  only)  representation  of 
his  force,  Mr.  II.  It  had  not  gone  for,  when  his 
neighbour  in  the  pit  turned  round  to  him  and  said : 
'  This  is  sad  stuff,  sir  ;  I'll  hiss  if  you'll  begin.' 

]\Iadame  Mohl's  reminiscences  of  Madame  Eecamier 
and  her  society  give  a  far  more  favourable  and  (we 
believe)  correct  impression  of  them.  Tlie  following 
passage  may  afford  a  usefid  hint  or  two  to  any  English 
as])irant  to  the  honours  of  a  salon  : 

'  Tefe-a-tetes  in  a  low  voice  were  entirely  discouraged.  If 
any  of  the  younger  Jiahitues  took  tliis  liberty,  they  received 
a  gentle  chiding  in  a  real  tete-a-tete  wlien  everybody  was 
gone.  There  were  generally  from  six  to  tweh^e  persons. 
Madame  Eecamier  sat  on  one  side  of  the  fireplace,  the  others 
round  in  a  circle.  Two  or  three  stood  against  the  cliimney- 
piece,  and  spoke  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  all.  Whoever 
had  an  observation  to  make  contributed  it  to  the  common 
stock.  jNIadame  Eecamier  spoke  little,  but  threw  in  an  oc- 
casional word  ;  or  if  a  new  person  entered  who  happened  to 
know  anything  of  the  subject  going  on,  she  would  instantly 
qnestion  him,  that  the  others  miglit  be  aware  of  it ;  other- 
wise it  was  his  place  to  try  and  understand.' 

Speaking  of  a  person  who  had  fine  qualities,  but, 
from  the  violence  of  her  feelings  and  the  vivacity  of 
her  fancy,  kc»|)t  those  she  loved  in  perpetual  .'igitation. 


SALOxs.  363 

Madame  Recamier  said  :  '  II  ii'y  a  que  la  rai.son  (|ui  no 
fatigue  pas  a  la  longue.'  Equally  suggestive  is  the 
maxim  :  '  On  ue  plait  pas  longtemps  si  Ton  n'a  qu'uiie 
sorte  d'esprit.' 

]\Iadame  Ancelot  has  devoted  a  chapter  to  the  Vi- 
comte  d'Ai'lincourt,  although  neither  his  habits  nor 
(during  the  greater  part  of  his  life)  his  means  qualified 
him  for  the  establishment  of  a  salon.  lie  was  an 
amusing  combination  of  talent,  amiability  and  absur- 
dity. His  novel,  Le  Solitaire,  and  some  others  of  his 
writings,  attained  temporary  popularity  ;  and  he  fairly 
attained  the  position  of  a  distinguished  man  of  letters, 
although  he  tried  in  vain  to  consolidate  his  title  by  one 
of  the  forty  fauteuils  of  the  Academy.  He  made  up 
for  this  disappointment,  as  he  best  might,  by  procuring 
all  the  foreign  orders  he  could  pick  up,  and  on  gi-and 
occasions  he  appeared  with  three  stars,  two  broad 
libands,  and  seventeen  smaller  decorations  on  his 
breast.  Eeplpng  rather  to  a  look  than  a  remark 
directed  towards  them,  he  exclaimed  to  Madame  Ance- 
lot:  'I  am  expecting  two  more.'  In  the  three-fold 
capacity  of  Vicomte,  legitimist,  and  man  of  letters,  he 
was  fond  of  coupling  himself  with  Chateaubriand  : 
'  Paris,'  he  would  say,  '  cares  for  nothing  but  her  two 
viscounts — the  two  great  writers  of  the  nineteenth 
century.'  His  imitation  of  his  illustrious  parallel  went 
to  the  length  of  writing  a  tragedy,  Le  Siege  de  Paris, 
which  the  audience  persisted  in  treating  as  a  comedy. 
One  of  the  dramatis  personam  is  made  to  say  : 

'  Mon  vieux  pere,  en  ce  lieu,  seul  a  manger  m'apporte.' 

This  sounded  and  was  understood  as  'seul  a  mange 
ma  porte  ;'  on  which  a  man  in  the  pit  called  out :  '  The 
old  fellow  must  have  had  good  teeth ;'  and  the  joke 
was  clamorously  applauded.  The  author  rubbed  his 
hands,  delightedly  remarking,  '  C'est  comme  Chateau- 
briand, et  comme  Victor  Hugo.'  This  is  the  rifiis 
imitahile  with  a  vengeance. 


364  SALOxs. 

His  legitimist  opinions  and  his  reputation  procured 
him  an  invitation  to  Frohdorff,  the  residence  of  the 
exiled  royal  family,  where  he  stayed  a  fortnight.  On 
leaving  he  said  to  one  of  the  suite,  '  How  I  pity  these 
unhappy  princesses,'  a  burst  of  sentiment  which  seemed 
natural  enough  till  he  added,  '  How  bored  they  will 
be  when  I  have  quitted  the  palace,  for  during  the 
last  fortnight  I  read  my  works  aloud  to  them  every 
evening.' 

We  now  turn  to  Madame  de  Bassanville,  who  has 
followed  nearly  the  same  plan  as  Madame  Ancelot. 
Her  characteristic  traits  and  illustrative  anecdotes  are 
selected  vrith.  equal  tact,  and  she  possesses  the  same 
talent  of  narration.  She  starts  with  the  Princesse  de 
Vaudemont,  iiee  Montmorencj,  grand e  dame  to  the  tips 
of  her  fingers,  although  her  face  and  figure  ill  qualified 
her  for  the  part.  She  was  not  only  short  and  redfaced, 
but  plump  and  thin  at  the  same  time,  that  is,  plump 
where  she  ought  to  be  thin  and  thin  where  she  ought 
to  be  plump.  Yet  she  carried  off  all  her  pliysical 
disadvantages  by  dint  of  air,  manner,  and  address, 
Superior  to  exclusiveness,  she  attracted  and  received 
merit  and  distinction  of  all  kinds  and  classes,  on  the 
one  condition  of  agreeabihty.  She  made  a  point  of 
being  at  home  every  evening,  giving  up  balls,  plays, 
concerts,  and  evening  engagements,  for  years ;  and  if 
by  a  rare  accident  she  dined  out,  she  was  punctually  at 
home  by  nine ;  the  visitors  who  preceded  her  being 
received  in  her  absence  by  her  dame  de  compaipiie, 
Madame  Leroy. 

One  of  lier  most  intimate  friends  was  the  Duchesse  de 
Duras,  who  had  resided  in  England  during  the  emigra- 
tion and  there  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  tall  stiff 
nobleman,  Lord  Claydfort,  whom  some  of  our  readers 
may  succeed  in  identifying  by  the  following  anecdote 
narrated  Ijy  her.  During  the  Queen's  trial,  he  was  on 
his  way  to  the  House  of  Lords,  when  his  carriage  was 


SALONS.  305 

stopped  by  tlie  mob,  uud  lie  was  required  to  join  in  llie 
cry  of  '  Long  live  the  Qiieeu  ! '  '  Witli  all  my  heart,  my 
friends;  long  live  Queen  Caroline,  and  may  your  wives 
and  dauo'hters  resemble  her ! ' 

Some  good  stories  are  told  of  Isabey,  apropos  of  his 
salon.  When  the  allied  sovereigns  met  at  Paris  in 
1815,  he  was  commissioned  to  paint  a  picture  of  the 
Congress  of  Vienna,  in  which  the  whole  of  the  mem- 
bers were  to  be  introduced.  '  Monsieur,'  said  llie  Duke 
of  Wellington,  '  I  consent  to  appear  in  your  picture 
solely  on  condition  that  I  occupy  the  first  place  ;  it  is 
mine,  and  I  insist  upon  it.'  'My  dear  friend,'  whispered 
Talleyrand,  who  represented  France,  '  for  your  sake 
and  mine,  I  ought  to  occupy  the  first  place  in  your 
picture  or  not  appear  in  it  at  all.'  How  were  these  two 
pretensions  to  be  reconciled.^  It  must,  notwithstanding, 
be  done  ;  and  this  is  what  the  artist  resolved  on  after 
the  deepest  reflection :  'The  Duke  was  represented 
entering  the  chamber  of  conference,  and  all  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  him :  he  might,  therefore,  believe  himself 
the  king  of  the  scene  ;  whilst  Prince  Talleyrand,  seated 
in  the  central  chair,  had  thereby  the  place  of  honour 
in  the  picture.  Besides,  Isabey  persuaded  the  noble 
Duke  that  he  was  much  handsomer  seen  in  profile, 
because  he  then  resembled  Henry  IV. ;  which  •so 
adroitly  flattered  his  Grace  that  he  insisted  absolutely 
on  purchasing  the  sketch  of  this  picture,  which  is  now 
in  England  and  ranks  in  the  fiunily  of  the  noble  lord 
as  one  of  the  mos^t  glorious  memorials  of  his  career.' 
Of  the  internal  probability  of  this  story,  which  we 
have  translated  literally,  it  is  for  our  readers  to  judo-e. 

A  difficulty  of  an  opposite  description  was  raised  by 
William  Humboldt  (the  diplomate)  who  had  no  reason 
to  pride  himself  on  his  good  looks  and  was  conscious' 
of  the  fact.  '  Look  at  me,'  was  his  reply  to  Isabey 's 
request  for  a  sitting,  'and  acknowledge  that  nature  has 
given  me  so  ugly  a  face  that  you  cannot  but  approve 


366  SALONS. 

tlie  law  I  liave  laid  duwu,  never  to  spend  a  half})enny 
to  preserve  the  likeness  for  posterity.  Dame  Nature 
■would  have  too  good  a  laugh  at  my  expense  on  seeing 
me  sit  for  my  portrait ;  and  to  punish  her  for  the 
shabby  trick  she  has  played  me,  I  will  never  give  her 
that  pleasure.'  Isabey  did  not  despair,  but  simply 
requested  Humboldt  to  allow  him  an  liour's  conversa- 
tion the  next  morning.  The  request  was  granted,  and 
when  the  picture  appeared  he  exclaimed,  'I  determined 
to  pay  nothing  for  my  portrait,  and  the  rogue  of  a 
painter  has  taken  his  revenge  by  making  it  like ! ' 

There  is  a  dressmaker  at  Paris,  named  Worth,  who 
2:)rofesses  to  imagine  and  compose  dresses  according  to 
the  genuine  principles  of  art :  to  blend  and  harmonise 
form  and  colour  like  a  painter,  with  a  studied  view  to 
effect.  It  is  an  understood  thing  when  he  has  pro- 
duced a  chef-d'oeuvre^  that  the  favoured  customer  is  to 
give  him  a  private  view,  to  be  adjusted  and  touched  up. 
In  this  treatment  of  the  living  form  like  a  lay  figure, 
he  was  anticipated  by  Isabey,  who,  whenever  his  wife 
wished  to  be  more  than  ordinarily  smart,  undertook  in 
person  the  pleasing  task  of  attiring  her  in  this  fashion: 

'  When  Madame  Isabey  was  completely  dressed  all 
but  her  robe  or  gown,  and  had  got  together  a  sufficient 
stock  of  silk,  gauze  and  laces,  she  sent  for  her  hus- 
band, who  proceeded  to  cut,  shape,  and  pin  on  till  the 
costume  was  complete.'  On  one  occasion,  when  clotli 
of  gold  and  silver  was  the  fashion,  he  made  her  a  robe 
for  a  fancy  ball  with  gold  and  silver  paper  pasted  upon 
muslin,  which,  according  to  the  chronicler,  extorted 
the  envy  of  many  and  the  admiration  of  all.  It 
should  be  added  that  everything  became  Madame 
Isabey,  who  was  remarkably  handsome. 

Few  women  occupied  a  more  distinguished  position 
in  tlie  Parisian  society  of  the  last  generation  tlian  the 
Comtesse  Merlin.  Slie  had  birth,  wealth  and  accom- 
l)li>hMient,   besides    agreeable    manners    and    a    warm 


SALOXS.  oG7 

heart.  She  was  an  auuitcur  inusician  of"  llie  first  chiss, 
and  her  concerts  were  of  the  higliest  excellence,  for  all 
the  great  composers  and  singers  regarded  her  as  a  sis- 
ter and  put  forth  tlieir  utmost  powers  when  she  called 
upon  them. 

'  All  the  evenings  (says  Madarae  de  Bassanville)  were  not 
consecrated  to  music.  The  arts,  literature,  science,  even 
the  futilities  of  the  world,  had  their  turn  ;  but  when  I  say 
futilities,  I  do  not  say  sillinesses,  for  the  intimate  society  of 
the  countess  included  as  many  distinguished  women  as  men 
of  merit.  To  begin,  there  was  the  Princess  Beljioso,  patrician 
and  plebeian  combined ;  great  lady  and  artist,  uniting  all 
the  'most  opposite  qualities,  as  if  to  show  that,  whetlier  on 
the  first  or  last  rong  of  tlie  world's  ladder,  she  would  have 
been  out  of  the  line.  The  Duchesse  de  Plaisance  was  then 
aiming  at  rivalry  with  her,  and  one  evening  they  were 
talking  of  the  sd.lon  of  Madame  Merlin.  "  This  salon,''''  said 
one  of  the  ladies  present,  "  is  a  regular  collection  ;  every  tiling 
is  represented  in  it :  the  arts,  by  Malibran  and  Kossini ; 
literature,  by  Villemain ;  poetry,  by  Alfred  de  Musset ; 
journalism,  by  MM.  Malitorne  and  Merle."  "  Beauty," 
added  Madame  de  Plaisance,  eagerly,  "  by  Mdlle.  de  Saint- 
Aldegonde  ;  wit,  by  Madame  de  Balby."  "  And  you  madame, 
what  do  you  represent  ?  "  asked  the  Princess,  with  a  bitter 
smile  ;  for  she  thought  herself  entitled  to  two  at  least  of  the 
distinctions  wliich  were  so  lightly  accorded  to  others,  l^e 
Duchess,  who  reddened  at  this  (piestion,  replied,  naively, 
with  a  charming  smile,  "Mon  Dieu,  je  ne  sais  pas — vertu, 
peut-etre."  '^  Nous  prenez-vous  done  pour  des  masques  ?  " 
rejoined  the  Princess.' 

It  was  Madame  Merlin  who  said  '  J'aime  fort  les  jeux 
innocens  avec  ceux  qui  ne  le  sont  pas.'  Her  gimies, 
innocent  or  the  contrary,  were  intended  to  bring  out 
the  talent  of  her  society,  which  abounded  in  talent. 
At  a  sinrjle  crarae  of  forfeits,  M.  Villemain  was  con- 
dcmned  to  make  a  speech,  M.  Berryer  to  tell  a  story, 
Alfred  de  Musset  to  improvise  another,  and  riiilip[)e 
Dupin  to  compose  a  history  on  a  given  subject.   La 


308  SALONS. 

Femme  et  le  Chicn,  on  wliic'i  he  produced  a  cliarniiiig 
one  with  a  moral. 

She  proscribed  politics,  the  more  wilhiigly  because  she 
was  opposed  to  the  liberal  opinions  in  vogue ;  and  she 
was  fond  of  turning  representative  institutions  into  ridi- 
cule.    Her  favourite  story  on  this  subject  ran  thus  : 

'  A  colonist  of  St.  Domingo,  my  respectable  relative,  had 
a  mania  for  establisliiug  a  kind  of  domestic  congress  amongst 
his  negroes.  Everything  was  done  by  the  plm'ality  of  votes, 
and,  above  all,  they  were  recommended  to  vote  according 
to  their  consciences.  Nevertheless,  the  result  was  found  to 
be  always  in  accordance  with  the  secret  desire  of  the  master. 
One  day  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  establish  a  reform 
on  several  points  of  his  administration.  He  proposed,  in 
my  presence,  to  these  good  people  to  decree  that  henceforth 
the  offender  that  hitherto  had  been  punished  with  five 
lashes,  should  receive  seven  ;  that  they  should  have  twenty- 
five  rations  instead  of  thirty ;  and,  lastly,  that  a  part  of 
their  allowance  should  be  kept  back  for  the  benefit  of 
certain  half-castes,  who  had  nothing  and  rested  while  the 
others  worked.  Well — who  would  believe  it  ? — these  pro- 
positions, so  adverse  to  their  interests,  were  adopted  by  a 
large  majority. 

' "  What  stupid  creatures  these  blacks  are  !  "  I  exclaimed, 
when  I  was  alone  with  ray  relative. 

'  "  Less  than  you  think,"  replied  he.  "  They  have  been 
playing  a  comedy  for  ray  amusement.  Voila  tout!  Do 
you  not  remark  that*  I  have  reserved  to  myself  the  right  of 
putting  the  questions  and  collecting  the  votes  ?  Well,  that 
is  the  whole  secret."  I  comprehended  at  once  ;  and  yet  this 
expedient,  so  simple,  so  easy,  so  natural,  would  never  have 
occurred  to  me.' 

It  is  an  expedient  that  readily  occuiTcd  to  the 
framer  of  the  Imperial  system  of  representation. 

Count  D'Orsay  is  frequently  named  in  connection 
with  this  salon  and  two  or  three  othei-s,  in  which  he 
may  have  been  seen  during  his  Hying  visits  to  Paris 
f)rior  to  liis  final  return.  All  French  wiiters  will  have 
it   that   he  was  the  king   of  fashion  in  England  for 


SALONS.  3G9 

twenty  years,  and  tlic  following  story  is  told  in  proof 
of  his  supremacy :  '  The  Count  was  returning  from  a 
steeplechase  when  he  was  caught  in  a  storm.  Looking 
round  him,  he  observed  a  sailor  wrapped  up  in  a  loose 
ovej'coat  of  coarse  cloth  reaching  to  his  knees.  "  Will 
you  sell  your  greatcoat?"  said  the  Count,  after  temi)tiiig 
the  sailor  into  a  public-house  by  the  offer  of  a  dram. 
"Willingly,  my  lord,"  answered  the  sailor,  pocketing 
the  ten  guineas  offered  him  for  a  garment  not  worth 
one.  The  Count  put  it  on,  and  rode  into  London. 
The  storm  had  blown  over,  and  he  joined  the  riders  in 
the  Park,  vrho  all  flocked  roiuid  him  with  exclamation 
of  "  C'est  original,  c'est  charmant !  c'est  delicieux ! 
No  one  but  D'Orsay  would  have  thought  of  such  a" 
thing."  The  day  following  all  the  fashionables  wore 
similar  overcoats,  and  behold  the  invention  of  the 
paletot,  which,  like  iiie  tricolour,  has  made  the  toiu' 
of  the  world.' 

The  plain  matter  of  fact  is  that  D'Orsay  was  a  very 
agreeable  fellow,  remarkable  for  social  tact,  good 
humour,  and  good  sense.  He  exercised  considerable 
influence  in  a  particular  set  at  a  time  when  the  autocrats 
of  fashion  had  been  dethroned  or  abdicated,  and  the 
lower  empire  had  begun.  When  he  came  upon  the 
stage,  men  were  getting  careless  of  dress,  they  welfe 
sick  of  affectation,  and  a  second  Brummel  was  an  im- 
possibility. D'Orsay  had  very  few  imitators,  and  his 
notoriety  rested  on  his  singularity.  We  say  his  notoriety ; 
for  those  who  knew  him  well  had  a  real  regard  for 
him  on  account  of  his  fineness  of  perception,  his  geni- 
ality, and  his  wit.  The  Earl  of  Norwich,  who  took 
the  lead  among  the  beaux  esprits  in  the  Court  of 
Charles  I.,  was  voted  a  bore  at  the  Eestoration.  A 
somewhat  similar  fate  befell  D'Orsay  when  he  returned 
to   France    with    Lady   Blessington,    in    1848.^      His 

'  pMy  Blessington's  was  one  of  the  liouaes  at  which  the  ex-Eniperor, 
then  Prince  Louis  Napoleon,  was  most  rre(£iiently  received  during  his 
VOL.    L  C  B 


370  SALONS. 

countrymen  would  not  or  could  not  understand  what 
the  English  had  discovered  in  him.  We  happened  to 
be  with  him  at  a  large  dinner,  mostly  made  up  of 
artistic,  literary  and  poUtical  celebrities,  when  the  con- 
versation was  directed  to  a  topic  on  which  he  was 
admirably  qualified  to  shine — the  comparative  merits 
of  the  English  and  French  schools  of  painting.  He 
talked  his  best  and  talked  well,  yet  his  failure  was 
undeniable.  He  was  quickly,  almost  contemptuously, 
put  down. 

The  salon  of  the  Comtesse  de  Rumfort  is  one  of  the 
most  noteworthy  recorded  by  Madame  de  Bassanville, 
but  we  can  only  find  room  for  the  sketch  of  one  of 
her  hahitaees,  a  female  physician,  a  Yankee  doctress, 
named  Palmyra,  who  claimed  an  inibroken  descent  in 
the  male  line  from  Cortez,  was  pre-eminently  beautiful, 
and  appeared  every  day  in  the  Tuileries  gardens,  be- 
tween two  hideous  negresses  who  acted  as  foils.  She 
only  received  patients  of  her  own  sex,  and  her  fee  for 
a  consultation  was  more  than  treble  what  was  com- 
monly paid  to  the  first  regular  physician  in  Paris : 

'  What  do  you  suppose  was  her  prescription  ?  Jalaps, 
potions,  bleedings,  purges,  tonics,  leeches  ?  Nothing  of  the 
kind.  All  that  might  do  for  MM.  Diafoirus,  Desfonandres, 
or  Purgon.  She  prescribed  amusements,  new  dresses, /e^es, 
balls,  garlands  of  flowers,  pleasure  trips. 

'  She  would  say  to  one — "  You  are  suffering  from  lan- 
guor :  you  must  go  oftener  to  balls ;  I  will  teach  you  a 
new  step." 

'  To  another — "  Your  weak  point  is  your  nerves.  Your 
husband  must  give  you  a  new  set  of  dresses.  This  gown 
dues  not  become  you.     Write  directly  to  your  dressmaker." 

first  residence  in  England ;  and  on  his  being  elected  President,  sbe  ex- 
pected to  be  received  at  the  Elysee  Ijourbon.  ]']ager  as  lie  always  was  to 
acknowledge  obligations  of  the  kind,  he  could  not  venture  on  such  a 
.step  ;  but  f.iio  day,  meeting  her  in  the  Bois,  he  stopped  to  salute  lier  and 
unluckily  put  the  conimon  question  :  '  How  long  does  your  ladyship  pro- 
pose U)  remain  in  Taris  P  '  '  And  i/ou,  Sire,'  was  the  ready  retort ;  the 
point  of  which  he  remained  long  enough  to  blunt. 


SALONS.  371 

'  To  a  third — "  You  are  wasiing'  away.  Yes,  I  under- 
stand— a  diamond  necklace  must  be  administered  Ijy  your 
husband." 

'  To  a  fourth — "  Your  pulse,  which  I  liave  just  felt  care- 
fully, demands  a  new  equipage." 

'  The  fair  patients  went  away  delighted,  and  none  of  them 
regretted  the  fee  of  six  crowns  that  was  to  cost  the  husband 
two  or  three  thousand.  What  science  !  what  a  coup  cVaell ! 
what  admirable  therapeutics  !  Willingly  would  they  have 
shouted  out,  "  Enfonce,  Hippocrate  !  "  as  the  romanticists 
shouted  out  at  the  commencement  of  the  Revolution  of 
1830 — '■^  E'nfo7ice,  Racine  !  ^^  It  is  not  recorded  that  the 
husbands  were  equally  satisfied  ;  and  I  imagine  the  con- 
trary, for  Palmyra  disappeared  one  fine  morning,  without 
any  one  knowing  what  had  become  of  her.' 

Madame  de  Bassanville  has  many  more  upon  her 
list,  which  might  be  enlarged  at  discretion,  for  during 
most  of  the  period  of  which  she  treats,  almost  every 
one  with  a  large  acquaintance  and  competent  means 
took  a  day.  To  the  best  of  our  belief,  based  on  per- 
sonal knowledge,  Alfred  de  Vigny  conscientiously 
adhered  to  his  for  a  full  quarter  of  a  century. 

Social  sway  in  France  was  at  no  time  monopolised 
by  Frenchwomen.  The  Eussians  were  formidable 
competitors,  especially  the  Princess  Bagration,  tlie 
Princess  Lieven,  and  Madame  Svetchine,  whose  s<Mon 
exercised  a  marked  influence  on  the  religious  move- 
ment of  the  age.  The  Americans  were  occasionally 
well  represented,  as  by  Mrs.  Cliild,  the  daughter  of 
General  Henry  Lee;  and  we  remember  wlien  tlie  best 
society  were  wont  to  meet  in  the  salon  of  Madame 
Graham,  the  wife  of  a  Scotch  laird  of  moderate 
fortime. 

We  must  turn  to  other  sources  than  our  two  female 
reminiscents  for  the  materials  of  a  brief  retrospect. 

The  salons  of  the  seventeenth  century  have  hean 
rendered  familiar  to  all  conversant  with  modern  French 
literature  by  M.  Cousin,  to  whom  it  has  been  a  labour 


372  SALONS. 

of  love  to  portray,  anah^se  and  speculate  on  the  lives 
and  characters  of  their  founders  and  illustrations.  The 
results  of  his  researches  have  been  ably  and  pleasantly 
compressed  by  Madame  Mold  : 

'  Of  the  distinguislied  ladies  of  the  seventeenth  century,' 
she  remarks,  '  the  Marquise  de  Eamhouillet  deserves  the 
first  place,  not  only  as  the  earliest  in  the  order  of  time,  hut 
because  she  first  set  on  foot  that  long  series  of  8alo7is  which 
for  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  have  been  a  real  institution, 
known  only  to  modern  civilisation.  The  general  spirit  of 
social  intercourse  that  was  afloat ;  the  great  improvement  in 
the  education  of  women  of  the  higher  classes ;  and,  above 
all,  the  taste,  not  to  say  the  passion,  for  their  society,  aided 
by  the  general  proi^perity  under  Henry  IV.,  might  indeed 
have  created  salons  ;  but  it  is  to  Madame  de  Rambouillet's 
individual  qualities  that  we  owe  the  moral  stamp  given  to 
the  society  she  founded,  which,  in  spite  of  all  the  inferior 
imitations  that  appeared  for  long  after,  remains  the  prece- 
dent which  has  always  been  unconsciously  followed.' 

The  famous  Hotel,  built  after  plans  drawn  by  her, 
was  situate  in  the  Kue  St.  Thomas  du  Limvre,  close  to 
the  Hotel  Longueviile  :  both  have  been  destroyed.  It 
is  described  by  Madame  Scudery  as  full  of  objects  of 
art  and  curiosity.  Around  one  room  were  the  portraits 
of  her  most  admired  or  cherished  friends  :  a  style  of 
ornament  which,  prom[)ted  by  the  same  kindly  feehng 
and  good  taste,  Frances  Countess  of  Waldegrave  has 
adopted  with  the  happiest  effect  at  Strawberry  Hill.^ 
The  drawing-room  of  the  Hotel,  then  called  a  cabinet, 

'  At  Strawberry  Hill  (not  far  from  llc^ynolds's  masterpiece,  the  three 
Ladies  Waldegrave)  are  portraits  of  the  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Aiimalc, 
the  Eiirl  and  Countess  of  Clarendon,  Earl  Russell,  Earl  Grey,  the  Mar- 
chioness of  Clanricarde,  the  late  Countess  of  Morloy,  I>ord  Jyvndlnirst, 
M.  Van  de  Weyer,  the  IJi.shop  of  AV'inchester  (A^'^ilberfolce),  Viscount 
Stratford  de  Kedelilfe,  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland  and  tlio  latn  Duchess 
the  Marchioness  of  Westminster,  Lady  Churchill,  Lady  Au<rusta  Sturt 
the  late  Countess  of  Shaftesbury,  ihi;  late  Marchioness  of  Northampton, 
Madiime  Alphonse  de  Kothsdiild,  Ludy  Selina  Didwell,  the  lion.  Mrs.  F. 
Stonor,  and  thii  Coimtess  Sptfiiccr. 


SALONS.  373 

had  \vill(lo^vs  {)])eiiiiig  iroin  top  to  bottom  on  gaidens 
reac.liing  to  ihe  Tuileries.  Tliis  room  led  into  others, 
formhig  a  suite,  a  fashion  introduced  by  her,  as  was 
also  that  of  ])erfuming  them  with  baskets  of  flowers 
hung  about. 

The  origin  of  the  French  Academy  has  been  clearly 
traced  to  the  coterie  which  met  in  this  drawing-room  ; 
one  of  their  fa.vourite  pursuits  being  the  improvement 
of  the  language.  '  Several  words,'  says  Madame  Mohl, 
'  were  banished  from  conversation  by  the  Marquise  so 
completely  that  I  could  not  venture  even  to  quote 
them.'  Judging  from  words  that  have  kept  their 
ground,  the  queen  of  the  Precieuses  might  have  banished 
a  good  many  more  without  being  accused  of  prudery. 
She  was  tall,  handsome  and  dignified,  with  a  marked 
expression  of  sweetness  and  benevolence.  '  I  loved  her, 
I  venerated  her,  I  adored  her.  She  was  like  no  one 
else,'  exclaims  the  Grande  Mademoiselle.  Her  charm 
was  inherited  by  her  eldest  daughter,  Julie,  who  exer- 
cised a  joint  influence  at  the  hotel,  till  she  quitted  it  to 
marry  the  Marquis  de  Montausier ;  and  three  or  four 
years  afterwards,  1648,  the  intellectual  intercourse  of 
their  circle  was  rudely  interrupted  by  the  Fronde. 

Immediately  after  the  cessation  of  pohtical  turmoil, 
Mademoiselle  de  Scudery  began  her  famous  Saturnay 
evenings,  to  which  M.  Cousin  alludes  in  his  account  of 
her  society : 

'As  at  first  nothing  was  thought  of  but  harmless 
amusement,  these  assemblies  were  for  a  long  time  free 
from  pedantry.  The  habitual  conversation  was  easy 
and  airy,  tending  to  pleasantry,  the  women,  like  those 
of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet,  were  correct  without  prudery 
or  prinmess ;  the  men  were  gallant  and  attentive,  and 
surrounded  them  with  the  graceful  homage  which  dis- 
tinguished the  best  manners  of  the  time.  A  slight 
shade  of  tenderness  was  allowed,  but  passion  was 
entirely  forbidden.     The  greatest  stretch  of  gallantry 


374  SALONS. 

was  a  certain  semblance  of  Platonic  love,  and  even 
this  introduced  now  and  tlien  some  slight  jealousies.' 

Mademoiselle  de  Scudery,  who  has  drawn  her  own 
intellectual  portrait  under  the  name  of  Sappho,  was 
very  plain  and  dark  complexioned ;  a  mortifying  cir- 
cumstance at  a  time  when  blondes  were  pre-eminently 
in  voiiue.  But  she  had  admirers  in  abundance,  and 
lier  Platonic  liaison  with  Pelisson  is  cited  as  a  master- 
piece of  that  much  calumniated  species  of  tie.^  De- 
scribing it  under  her  feigned  name  in  the  Grand  Cyrus, 
she  says : — 

*  Phaou's  love  increased  with  his  happiness,  and  Sapplio's 
affection  became  more  tender  from  the  knowledge  of  the 
great  love  he  had  for  her.  No  hearts  ever  were  so  united, 
and  never  did  love  join  so  much  purity  to  so  much  ardour. 
They  told  all  their  thoughts  to  each  other  ;  they  even  un- 
derstood tliem  without  words  ;  tliey  saw  in  each  other's 
eyes  their  whole  hearts,  and  sentiments  so  tender,  that  tlie 
more  they  knew  each  other,  the  more  entire  was  their  love. 
Peace  was  not,  liowever,  so  profoundly  cstal)lished  as  to  let 
their  affection  grow  dull  or  languid  ;  for  although  they  loved 
each  other  as  much  as  it  is  possible  to  love,  they  complained 
each  in  turn  that  it  was  not  enough.' 

It  must  have  been  one  of  them  who  said  of  love  that 
tn^p  was  never  assez ;  and,  despite  their  ugliness,  they 
must  have  iiicun'ed  frequent  risk  of  verifying  what 
}>yi"on  saj's  of  Platonics  : 

Oh,  Plato  !  Plato  !  you  Lave  paved  the  way, 

AVith  your  confounded  fantasies,  to  more 
Immoral  cc'nduct  by  the  fancied  sway 

Your  system  feigns  o'er  the  controUess  core 
Of  human  hearts,  than  all  the  long  array 

Of  poets  and  romancers — you're  a  bore, 
A  charlatan,  a  coxcomb  ;  and  have  been 

At  best  no  better  than  a  go-between. 

Madame  de  Scudery's  Saturdays  did  uol  last  ;d)ovc 
five  years,  and  Madame  Mold  states  that  her  assenddies 

'  Pdlisson  was  the  man  of  whom  Madame  de  Sevigne  i-aid  '  ijii'i/  ahii- 
toit  (III  priiilhijf  (lonf  Join'gsriit  l'^  lioinmes  (Vefrc  hiih,^ 


s.vLONS.  375 

never  acquired  the  importance  of  those  of  the  Hotel 
Eambouillet  or  of  Madame  de  Sa])le,  nor  of  many  tliat 
succeeded  each  other  through  the  eighteenth  century- 
down  to  those  of  Madame  Recamier. 

Tlie  Marquise  de  Sable,  to  whom  M.  Cousin  has 
devoted  a  volume,  was  tlie  real  successor  to  the  Mar- 
quise de  Eambouillet.  She  has  been  justly  cited  as 
one  of  the  earliest  instances  of  women,  no  longer 
young,  rich,  nor  handsome,  becoming  more  infhicntial 
in  tlie  mellow  evening  of  their  lives  than  in  the  brilliant 
morning  or  tlie  glowing  noon.  An  admired  beauty  of 
the  Court  of  Anne  of  Austria,  she  was  a  childless 
widow,  past  fifty,  and  without  literary  reputation,  when 
her  salon  was  at  the  height  of  its  fame  :  when  we  find 
Mazarin  noting  down  in  his  pocket-book  the  names  of 
the  personages  of  consideration  that  frequented  it,  con- 
cluding with  this  N.B. : — '  Madame  de  Longueville  is 
very  intimate  with  Madame  de  Sable  :  they  talk  freely 
of  everybody.  I  must  get  some  one  into  her  assem- 
blies to  tell  me  what  they  say.' 

Richelieu  had  manifested  the  same  anxiety  to  know 
what  was  soino;  on  at  the  Hotel  Rand:)ouillet  after  he 
had  left  off"  visiting  there.  He  sent  his  secretary,  Bois- 
robert,  to  request  the  Marquise,  as  an  act  of  friendship, 
to  let  him  know  who  spoke  against  him  ;  to  which  fhe 
spirited  reply  was  that,  as  all  her  friends  knew  her 
respect  for  his  eminence,  none  of  them  would  be  guilty 
of  the  ill-breeding  of  speaking  against  him  in  her  house. 
So  we  see  that  Xapoleon  I.  had  high  precedent  in  his 
favcnu'  when  he  took  alarm  at  Madame  de  Stael's 
sallies ;  and  that  the  espioniiage  which  has  ruined 
social  freedom,  under  the  guise  of  saving  society,  under 
Napoleon  HI.,  is  traditional. 

Madame  Mohl  thinks  that  the  maxims  of  La  Roche- 
foucault  were  elaborated  from  the  conversations  at 
]\Ladame  de  Sable's.  They  were  certainly  based  on 
the  selfish  and    intriguing  men    and    women    of  the 


376  SALoxs. 

Fronde.  M.  Cousin  has  satisfied  himself  that  tlie 
Pensees  de  Pascal  were  suggested  by  these  conversa- 
tions. Madame  Mohl  also  claims  for  these  ladies  the 
credit  of  having  been  the  first  to  recognise  the  claims 
of  men  of  letters  to  be  received  on  a  footing  of  equality 
with  the  great. 

'  It  was  this  sympathy  of  women  that  so  early  made  lite- 
rary men  an  important  portion  of  society  in  France  ;  but  in 
what  other  country  would  women  have  had  the  power  of 
conferring-  such  importance  ?  Among  the  anecdotes  pre- 
served of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet  is  one  relating  that  the 
grand  Conde,  being  angry  at  Voiture,  one  of  its  greatest 
favourites,  said,  "  If  he  was  one  of  us,  we  should  not  put  up 
with  such  beliaviour."  ' 

Is  this  a  proof  of  social  equality  ?  We  draw  the  op- 
posite inference  from  the  anecdote ;  and  remembering 
Voltaire's  treatment  at  the  hands  of  one  of  the  privi- 
leged class,  who  had  him  caned,  we  are  reluctantly  led 
to  conclude  that  nieii  of  letters  or  of  purely  personal 
distinction,  not  born  in  tlie  purple,  were  not  received 
on  a  footing  of  conventional  equality  til]  shortly  before 
the  Revolution  of  1789. 

A  tolerably  correct  notion  of  the  state  of  Parisian 
society  wlien  this  crisis  was  in  preparation,  may  be  col- 
lected from  Julien,  ou  la  Fin  d'lm  Si('clc\  by  M,  Bun- 
gener.  '  Seiious  topics  were  too  anxiously  discussed 
to  admit  of  light,  discursive,  or  literary  talk.  Some 
salons,  however,  endeavoured  to  preserve  in  some  de- 
gree the  traditions  of  their  superannuated  predecessors. 
Madame  Gcollrin  was  dead,  Madame  du  Defiant  re- 
1aiiit'(l  but  a  small  luimber  of  iiiitliful  adlieivnts.  It 
was  at  tlie  Friiicess  de  Beauvan's,  the  Duchess  de  Gram- 
moiit's,  the  Duchess  d'Anville's,  the  Countess  dcTessi's, 
the  Countess  de  Segur's,  Madame  de  Beauharnais', 
j\l;id;nii('  de  Montesson's,  tliat  tlio  French  world 
asseml)le(l  its  wittiest  and  most  cultivated  lepreseiita- 
tives.     Madame  de  Luxembourg,  widow  of  the  Mar- 


SAU)Xs.  377 

shal,  must  be  added  to  the  list.  It  was  a  select  cirele 
of  her  friends  that  Eousseau  gratified  with  the  first  read- 
ing of  the  Confessions ;  and  by  a  strange  coincidence 
he  began  the  very  day  after  the  death  of  Voltaire. 

Having  brought  down  the  series  of  Parisian  salons 
to  about  the  point  where  Mesdames  de  Bassanville  and 
Ancelot  take  them  up,  we  loo1<  round  to  see  wlietlicr 
the  institution,  as  we  venture  to  call  it,  has  been  imi- 
tated or  acclimatised  out  of  France.  Goethe  at  Wei- 
mar, and  Tieck  at  Dresden,  were  the  centres  of  very 
remarkable  circles,  which  will  fill  a  large  space  in  the 
history  of  German  society  and  tliought.  It  would 
appear  from  Gentz's  Diaries  that  female  influence  was 
rife  at  Vienna  during  the  Congress.  But  the  German 
salon  that  best  satisfied  the  conditions  which  we 
assumed  at  starting,  is  that  of  the  celebrated  Eahel, 
the  wife  of  Varnhagen  von  Ense,  who  has  thus  re- 
corded his  impression  of  her  at  their  first  meeting  : 

'  She  appeared,  a  light,  graceful  figure,  small  but  well- 
formed  ;  her  foot  and  hand  surprisingly  small ;  the  brow, 
with  its  rich  braids  of  dark  hair,  announced  intellectual 
superiority  ;  the  quick  and  yet  firm  dark  glances  caused  a 
doubt  whether  they  betrayed  or  took  in  most ;  a  suffering 
expression  lent  a  winning  softness  to  the  well-defined  fea- 
tures. She  moved  about  in  her  dark  dress  almost  like  a 
shadow,  but  with  a  free  and  sure  step.  What,  liowever, 
overcame  me  most  was  her  ringing,  sweet,  and  soul-reaching 
voice,  and  the  most  wonderful  mode  of  speaking  that  I  had 
ever  met.' 

This  Avas  in  1803.  She  was  not  married  till  1814, 
when  she  was  about  forty-four,  and  he  thirty.  She 
was  of  a  Jewish  family,  named  Levin,  and  her  position 
was  due  entirely  to  her  own  strengtli  of  chnracter,  to 
her  intellectual  superiority,  and  (above  all)  to  her 
power  of  entering  into  the  feelings  of  others,  to  her 
being  emi)hatically  siinpatica.  Several  cha inters  in 
book^!  and  some  separate  publications  liave  been  de- 


37  S  SALONS. 

voted  to  her.  Both  before  and  after  lier  marriage  we 
find  her  surroimded  by  8uch  men  as  Frederic  Schlegel, 
Gentz,  Prince  Eadzivill,  Iluniboldt,  Prince  Pucliler 
Muskau,  Prince  Louis  Ferdinand  of  Prussia,  and  Gans. 
It  was  to  her  that  Gentz  addressed  the  curious  letters 
describing  the  growth  and  restorative  effects  of  his 
passion  for  Fanny  Elssler.  Madame  de  Stael's  impres- 
sion after  a  first  interview  was  cliaracteristically  ex- 
pressed to  Baron  Brinkman  :  '  Elle  est  etonnante.  Vous 
etes  bien  heureux  de  posseder  ici  une  telle  genie.  Voiis 
me  communiquerez  ce  qu'elle  dira  de  moi' 

Eahel  died  in  1833.  M.  de  Sternberg,  referring  to 
a  later  period,  says  :  '  I  have  done  with  my  Berlin 
salons.  Tlie  real  founder  of  the  modern  salons  of 
Berlin  is  still  living,  but  without  a  salon.  It  is  Varn- 
hagen  von  Ense,  who,  in  conjunction  with  or  rather  as 
the  literary  and  diplomatic  support  of  Eahel,  fovuided 
every  kind  of  intellectual  sociability,  and  their  example 
was  followed  by  many  others,  both  men  and  women. 
It  may  be  said  that  German  life  caught  from  tliem  the 
first  notion  of  a  salon  in  the  sense  in  which  it  had 
long  existed  in  France.  Nortli-German  and  especially 
Berhn  life  was  adverse  to  the  firm  establishment  and 
furtiier  development  of  this  kind  of  intercourse.'^ 

Tlie  most  influential  and  ]:)opular  salon  of  which 
Italy  could  boast  at  any  period  was  tliat  of  tlie  Countess 
of  Albany  at  Florence.  All  travellers  make  honour- 
able mention  of  it ;  and  she  has  been  truly  described  as 
the  connecting  link  of  half  a  century  of  celebrities. 

A  very  remarkable  circle,  conmieniorated  by  Byron, 
llobhouse  (Lord  Broughton)  and  Beyle,  who  were 
temporarily  amongst  its  most  distinguished  members, 
collected  at  Milan  round  the  Abate  de  Breme  shortly 
after  the  peace  of  1816  ;  but  their  principal  place  of 
meeting  was  the  oju'ra.     Writing  in  1823,  Lord  Byron 

'  JErinnervmjHhliHter,  Drift- r  Tlicil,  p.  24. 


SALox?.  379 

says : — '  So  many  cbanges  liave  taken  place  in  the 
Milan  circle  that  I  hardly  dare  recur  to  it :  some  dead, 
some  banished,  and  some  in  the  Austrian  dungeons.' 
Lord  Broughton  speaks  in  the  same  tone  in  his  Itabj : 
'I  passed  through  Milan  in  1822.  All  my  friends  of 
the  Liberal  party  had  disappeared.' 

Writing  from  Venice,  13yron  says  :  '  The  Contessa 
Albrizzi  is  the  De  Stael  of  Venice,  not  young,  but  a 
very  learned,  unaffected,  good-natured  woman,  very 
polite  to  strangers,  and  I  believe  not  at  all  dissolute,  as 
most  of  the  women  are.'  Lord  Brougliton  states  that, 
at  his  first  visit  to  Venice,  only  two  or  three  houses 
were  open  to  respectable  recommendations,  and  at  his 
last  visit,  only  one.  Houses  might  be  named  in  both 
ISTaples  and  Eome  which  have  largely  promoted  the 
best  sort  of  social  intercourse,  but  the  want  of  duration, 
regularity,  and  continuity  disentitles  them  to  rank  with 
those  which  are  popularly  accepted  as  salons.  The 
same  remark  applies,  with  few  exceptions,  to  the  society 
which  has  occasionally  clustered  or  crystallised  in 
Geneva  and  its  vicinity.  We  must  except  Sismondi's, 
the  historian,  whose  villa  during  many  years  formed 
the  grand  attraction  of  a  locality  with  which  so  many 
recollections  of  genius  are  imperishably  associated. 
We  must  also  except  Coppet,  and  hope,  with  Lord 
Broughton,  that  some  one  might  be  found  'not  to 
celebrate  but  describe  the  amiable  mistress  of  an  open 
mansion,  the  centre  of  a  society,  qxvy  varied,  and 
always  })leased,  the  creator  of  which,  divested  of  the 
ambition  and  the  arts  of  public  rivalry,  shone  forth 
only  to  give  fresh  animation  to  those  around  her.'  At 
Geneva,  as  indeed  in  every  continental  capital,  the  poli- 
tical state  at  present  (1866)  is  enough  to  account  for  the 
absence  or  decline  of  the  salon. 

M.  de  Lamartine,  who  has  devoted  two  eloquent  and 
interesting  Numbers  of  his  Cours  de  Litteratiire  to 
Madame   de  liecamier  and  Chateaubriand,  concludes 


880  SALOXS. 

with  tlii-s  j)aragraph  : — '  To  return  to  our  literary 
salons — they  are  tlu-oughout  tlie  sign  of  an  exuberant 
civihzatioii :  tliey  are  also  the  sign  of  the  ha])py  in- 
fluence of  women  on  the  human  mind.  Frorarericles 
and  Socrates  at  Aspasia's,  from  IMichael  Angelo  and 
Raphael  at  Vittoria  Colonna's,  from  Ariosto  and  Tasso 
at  Eleonora  d'Este's,  from  Petrarch  at  Laura  de  Sade's, 
from  Bossuct  and  Eacine  at  the  Hotel  Eanibouillet/ 
from  Voltaire  at  Madame  du  Defflmt's  or  Madame  du 
Chatelet's,  from  J.  J.  Rousseau  at  Madame  d'^pinay's 
or  Madame  de  Luxembouroj's,  from  Verijniaud  at 
Madame  Roland's,  from  Chateaubriand  at  Madame 
Recamier's ; — everywhere  it  is  from  the  fireside  (coin 
du  feu)  of  a  lettered,  political,  or  enthusiastic  woman 
that  an  age  is  lighted  up  or  an  eloquence  bursts 
forth.  Always  a  woman — as  the  nurse  of  genius,  at 
the  cradle  of  literature !  When  these  salons  are  closed, 
I  dread  civil  storms  or  literary  decline.  They  are 
closed.' 

'  The  clubs  in  England  and  the  salons  in  France,' 
remarks  Madame  Mohl,  '  have  long  been  places  where, 
like  the  porticos  of  Athens,  public  aflairs  have  been 
discussed  and  public  men  criticised.'  This  is  the  key 
to  tlie  problem  why  clubs  are  flourishing  in  England, 
and  salons  are  dying  out  in  France,  We  can  discuss 
})uljlic  affairs  freely,  and  our  neighbours  cannot.  A 
literary  man  of  the  highest  distinction  (M.  Jules  Simon) 
wlio  (1866)  has  a  weekly  rece])tioii  at  his  house,  having 
l)een  summoned  to  appear  as  a  witness  before  the  Tri- 
bunal of  Police  Cori'ectionnelle,  discovered  from  the 
tone  and  ccjurse  of  the  examination  that  nuich  of  the 
conversation  at  his  last  soiree  had  been  faithfidly  re- 
])orled  to  the  magistrate.  A  single  occun-ence  of  this 
kind  creates  an  all-pervading  feeling  of  distrust.     Yet 

'  Tliis  is  a  strMTipo  annflironi.sm.  Racine  (born  in  10.30)  was  a  child 
when  llii!  Hotel  Jfa-ubdiiilltl  wan  in  its  glory;  and  IJoysuet  was  boru 
in  ir,27. 


SALONS.  381 

Miidame  tie  C.'s^  salon,  tlie  last  of  i\\c/(j;j<'r.s  ('feints,  lo- 
taiiied  its  reputation  and  attractiveness  till  her  huiu'uk'd 
death,  Madame  d'A.  holds  on  gallantly.  A  well- 
known  rez-de-chaussee  (M.  Thiers's)  in  the  Place  St. 
Georges  is  the  nightly  scene  of  about  the  best  conver- 
fration  \\\  Paris  ;  and  a  small  apartment  (Madame 
Mold's)  in  tlie  Rue  du  Bac  is  still  redolent  of  the  social 
and  intellectual  charm  which  made  Madame  de  Stael 
prefer  the  gutter  of  that  street  to  the  blue  rushing  of 
the  arrowy  Rhone  or  the  calm  waters  which  reliect  the 
rocks  of  Meilleraye. 

The  expansion  of  Paris,  and  increased  facilities  of 
locomotion,  are  also  thought  to  have  accelerated  the 
decline  of  the  salon,  which  throve  best  when  the  higher 
class  of  Parisians  lived  most  of  the  year  in  close  prox- 
imity and  were  seldom  long  or  far  absent  from  the 
capital.  When  Madame  Merlin  left  Paris,  it  was  only 
for  a  villa  at  St.  Germain's,  where  she  had  dinners  and 
receptions  every  Sunday  and  Wednesday. 

The  state  of  things  is  still  more  unfavourable  to  con- 
stant intimacy  in  London ;  no  longer  the  London  of 
Brummel,  bounded  on  the  south  by  Pall  Mall,  on  the 
north  by  Oxford  Street,  on  the  east  by  Regent  Street, 
on  the  west  by  Park  Lane.  English  country  life,  and 
the  national  fondness  for  travelling,  form  another 
serious  drawback.  The  elite  of  our  society  are  not 
settled  in  the  metropolis  till  the  spring  is  far  advanced, 
and  are  off  ag:ain  soon  after  midsummer.  The  late 
dinner-hour  and  the  importance  we  attach  to  this  (in 
many  men's  estimate)  most  important  event  of  the  day, 
with  the  club  to  fall  back  upon,  lead  us  to  undervalue 
the  privileged  access  to  the  drawing-room,  which  is 
pretty  sure  to  be  empty  till  that  part  of  the  evening 
which  the  French  salon  occupied  has  passed  away. 
Nor  are  we  aware  that  any  qualified  Englishwoman 
has  ever  submitted  to  the  sacrifice  required  for  a  fair 

•  The  Comtesse  de  Circourt. 


382  SALOXS. 

trial  of  tlie  cxperinieut,  by  a  self-denying  ordinance 
like  that  to  which,  as  we  have  seen,  the  Princess  de 
Vandemont  snbmitted  for  tliirty  years.  ]3nt  there  is 
an  aecom})lislied  lady  of  rank  still  living  who  (confined 
to  her  lionse  by  ill  health)  is  at  home  every  evening  to 
a  privileged  circle,  and  presents  in  her  own  person  an 
illustration  of  the  brilliant  and  varied  conversation 
wliicli  was  the  pride  of  the  Parisian  salon  in  the  olden 
time. 

The  next  nearest  approximation  was  made  by  the 
Berrys,  wdiose  habits  had  been  formed  or  modified 
abroad.  '  With  the  lives  of  the  sisters,'  remarks  their 
thoughtful  and  refined  biographer.  Lady  Theresa  Lewis, 
'  closed  a  society  which  will  be  ever  remembered  by  all 
who  frequented  these  pleasant  little  gatherings  in 
Curzon  Sti'eet.  Sometimes  a  note,  sometimes  a  word, 
and  more  often  the  lamp  being  lighted  over  the  door, 
was  taken  as  notice  to  attend,  and  on  entering  it  might 
be  to  fmd  only  a  few  habitues  or  a  larger  and  more 
brilliant  assembly.'  But  a  notice  of  some  sort,  if  not  a 
formal  invitation,  was  necessary  to  insure  against  disap- 
pointment; and  this  is  the  touchstone  or  turning-point. 

A  glance  at  the  '  Queens  of  Society '  will  suggest  a 
proud  array  of  distinguished  Englishwomen  who  have 
done  good  service  in  blending,  harmonising  and  elevat- 
ing society:  in  associating  genius,  learning,  and  accom- 
plishment with  rank,  wealth,  and  fashion :  in  facilitating, 
refining,  and  enhancing  the  pleasures  of  intellectual 
intimacy.  But  not  one  of  them  has  set  about  her 
appointed  task  in  the  manner  of  a  rrenchwoman  :  not 
one  of  them,  in  fact,  has  successfully  attem})tcd  the  in- 
stitution of  the  salon.  A  few,  Georgiana  Duchess  of 
Devonshire  and  Lady  Palmerston,  for  exam]:)le,  may 
liave  done  more,  may  have  done  better,  but  they  have 
not  done  this.  Nor  could  even  they,  w^ith  all  their 
rare  combination  of  attractions  and  advantages,  have 
attained  the  [)r()posed  object  without  first  revolution- 


SALONS.  883 

ising  the  ingrained  liabits  of  tlic  nation.  Yei,  although 
the  salon  has  little  chance  in  England,  and  is  at  a  tem- 
porary discount  on  the  Continent,  we  do  not  despair  of 
its  future.  It  is  too  congenial  to  its  native  soil  to 
be  exterminated  or  die  out.  It  faded  witli  the  free 
institutions  of  France  :  it  will  revive  with  her  reviving 
hberties. 


8S4  "wiirsT  .VXD  wihst-plavers. 


WHIST    AND   WHIST-PLAYERS. 

(Feom  Fraser's  Magazine  for  April  18(J9.) 

1.  The  Laws  of  Short   Whist.     Edited  by  J.  L.  Baldwin ; 

and  A  Treatise  on  the  Game.  By  J.  C.  (James  Clay,i. 
London:   1866. 

2.  The  Laws  and  Principles  of  Whist,  &c.     By  Cavendish 

(Jones).     Ninth  Edition.     London  :   1868. 

3.  Short  Whist.     By  Major  A.     The  Eighteenth  Edition. 

Newly  Edited,  &c.  By  Professor  P.  (Pole).  London  : 
1865. 

4.  The  Theory  of  the  Modern  Scientific  Game  of  Whist. 

By  William  Pole,  F.R.S.,  Mus.Doc.  (3xon.  Reprinted 
from  the  Revised  Edition  of  Short  Whist  by  Major 
A.     London:   1870. 

5.  The  Whist-Player,  &c.      By  Lieut.-Colonel   B  *  *   *  * 

(Blyth).     Third  Edition.     London  :   1866. 

6.  Traite  (lu  Whist.     Par  M.  Deschapelles.     Paris:   1840. 

7.  Le  Whist  rendu  facile,  etc.       Par   un   Amateur.       2me 

edition.     Paris:  1855. 

TiiK  hiws  of  whist,  like  those  of  Nature  before 
Newton,  lay  hid  in  night,  at  all  events  were  involved 
in  most  perplexing  confusion  and  uncertainty,  when 
the  liappy  thought  of  fixing,  defining,  arranging  and 
(so  to  speak)  codifjdng  them,  occurred  to  a  gentleman 
possessing  the  requisite  amount  of  knowledge  and  ex- 
perience, and  admirably  qualified  by  social  ])osition  for 
the  task.  'Some  years  ago,'  writes  Mr.  l^aldwin  in 
May,  18G4,  '  I  suggested  to  the  late  Hon.  George  Anson 
(one  of  tlie  most  accomplished  whist-])layers  of  his  day) 
that,  as  the  supremacy  of  short  whist  was  an  acknow- 
ledged   fact,    a  revision    and  reformation   of    Iloyle's 


WHIST    AND    WIIIST-PLAYERS.  385 

rules  would  confer  a  boon  on  whist-})l:iyers  gen(3rally, 
and  on  tliose  especially  to  whom  dis[)utes  and  doubtful 
points  were  constantly  referred.  Our  views  coincided, 
but  the  project  was,  for  the  following  reason,  abandoned.' 

The  reason  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  what  has 
stop[)ed  or  indehnitely  postponed  so  many  other  pro- 
jects for  the  amelioration  of  society  or  hnprovement 
of  mankind,  namely,  the  difficulty  and  trouble  to  be 
encountered,  with  a  very  luicertain  chance  of  success. 
This  reason  w\as  eventually  outweighed  by  the  sense 
of  responsibility  in  the  face  of  a  steadily  increasing 
evil  which  a  decided  eflfort  might  correct ;  and  early 
in  18G3  the  legislator  of  the  whist-table  had  duly 
meditated  his  scheme  and  made  up  his  mind  as  to  the 
right  method  of  executing  it.  When  Napoleon  had 
resolved  upon  a  code,  he  began  by  nominating  a  board 
of  the  most  eminent  French  jurists,  whose  sittings  he 
was  in  the  constant  habit  of  attending,  and  by  whom 
it  was,  article  by  article,  settled  and  discussed.  Mr. 
Baldwin  proceeded  in  much  the  same  fashion.  The 
board  or  committee  which  met  at  his  suggestion,  or 
(as  he  says)  '  kindly  consented  to  co-operate  with  him,' 
was  comprised  of  seven  members  of  the  Arlington  (now 
Turf)  Club,  who — we  might  take  for  granted,  were  it 
not  notorious  as  a  fact — were  renowned  for  the  skil§il 
practice  as  well  as  the  scientific  knowledge  of  the 
game. 

The  foundation  of  the  republic  of  Venice  may  be 
dated  from  697  a.d.,  when  twelve  of  the  founders  met 
and  elected  the  first  Doge.  Their  descendants,  gli 
Eleitorali,  formed  the  first  class  of  the  aristocracy,  and 
with  them  were  subsequently  associated  the  descen- 
dants of  the  four  who  joined  in  signing  an  instrument 
for  the  foundation  of  the  Abbey  of  San  Gioi-gio  Mag- 
giore.  The  twelve  were  popukiiiy  spoken  of  as  the 
Twelve  Ai)ostles,  and  the  four  as  the  Four  Evangelists. 
The  foundation  of  the  republic  of  whist  may  be  dated 

VOL.    1.  ^^ 


386  WHIST   AXD    WIIIST-PLAYERS. 

from  its  reduction  iiiulcr  settled  laws :  and  precedence, 
8ucli  as  was  accorded  to  the  Venetian  Apostles  and 
Evangelists,  should  be  accorded  to  the  two  bodies  of 
gentlemen  by  whom  Mr.  Baldwin's  suggestions  were  so 
effectively  carried  out.  The  seven  members  of  the 
Arlington  (who  may  rank  with  the  Apostles)  were  : — 
George  Bentinck,  Esq.,  M.P.  for  West  Norfolk  ;  the  late 
John  Bushe,  Esq.  (son  of  the  Chief  Justice  of  '  Patron- 
age ') ;  James  Clay,  Esq.,  M.P.,  who  acted  as  chairman  ; 
the  late  Charles  C.  Greville,  Esq. ;  Sir  Eainald  Knight- 
ley,  Bart.,  M.P. ;  H.  B.  Mayne,  Esq. ;  G.  Payne,  Esq. ; 
the  late  Colonel  Pipon.  The  resolution  appointing 
them  is  authenticated  by  the  distinguished  signature  of 
Admiral  Eous.  The  code  drawn  up  by  tliem  was 
transmitted  to  the  Portland  Club  (the  whist-club  par 
eminence  since  the  dissolution  of  Graham's)  which 
nominated  the  following  committee  (who  may  rank  with 
the  Evangelists  of  Venice)  to  consider  it : — 11.  D.  Jones, 
Esq.  (the  father  of  '  Cavendish ')  chairman ;  Charles 
Adams,  Esq. ;  W.  F.  Baring,  Esq.  ;  H.  Eitzroy,  Esq. ; 
Samuel  Petrie,  Esq. ;  H.  M.  Eiddell,  Esq. ;  E.  "Wheble, 
Esq.  Their  suggestions  and  additions  were  imme- 
diately accepted  by  the  Arlington,  and  on  Saturday, 
April  30,  18G4 — it  is  right  to  be  particular — this  reso- 
lution was  proposed  and  carried  unanimously : 

'  Arlington  Club. 
'  That  the  Laws  of  Short  Whist,  as  framed  by  the  Whist 
Committee  and  edited  by  John  Loraine  Baldwin,  Esq.,  be 
adopted  by  this  Club.' 

(Signed)         'Beaufort,  Chairman.' 

So  soon  as  this  resolution  was  passed,  the  work  was 
done  ;  for  all  the  other  principal  clubs  in  town  and 
country  eagerly  notified  their  adhesion,  and  it  would 
be  simply  absurd  for  individuals  to  refuse  obedience. 
That  tlie  Continent  and  the  New  World  will  do  well  to 
follow  the  lead  of  England,  may  be  inferred  from  a 
single  point  of  comparison.     Mr.  Baldwin's  Laws  of 


WHIST    AND    WIIIST-l'LAYERS.  387 

Whist  arc  comprised  in  .sixteen  paf^es,  whereas  284 
pages  of  M.  Deschapellcs'  Traite  da  Whist  are  devoted 
to  the  Laws.  Nor  is  the  code  the  only  boon  for  wliich 
we  are  indebted  to  the  codifier ;  he  has  also  been  the 
means  of  eliciting  what  (when  first  pubhshed)  was 
incomparably  the  most  acnte,  most  com|)act,  and  most 
practical  essay  on  the  subject :  A  Treatise  on  the  Game^ 
by  J.  C.  (James  Clay).  It  was  preceded  by  several 
works  of  merit,  but  its  improving  effects  may  be  traced 
in  all  recent  editions  of  the  best ;  and  we  have  now  a 
literature  of  whist  which  leaves  the  habitually  badphiyer, 
male  or  female,  without  the  semblage  of  an  apology. 

Although  the  large  circulation  of  these  books  would 
imply  general  study  and  corresponding  advance,  the 
effect  has  been  disappointing  on  the  whole.  It  is  quite 
curious  to  see  how  many  who  have  made  whist  their 
favourite  occupation  never  rise  to  the  rank  of  third- 
rate  players :  how  many  are  utterly  ignorant  of  the 
plainest  principles,  or  unprepared  for  tlie  most  ordinary 
combinations  or  contingencies  :  how  many  are  almost 
always  in  hopeless  confusion  about  their  leads  :  how 
many  have  not  the  smallest  notion  v.'hy  and  when  they 
should  trump  a  doubtful  card,  or  why  and  when  they 
should  lead  trumps.  The  Italian  who  had  the  honour 
of  teaching  George  III.  the  violin,  on  being  asked  \f^ 
his  royal  pupil  what  progress  he  was  making,  observed, 
'  Please  your  Majesty,  there  are  three  classes  of  players  : 
1,  those  who  cannot  play  at  all;  2,  those  who  play 
badly;  3,  those  who  play  well.  Your  Majesty  is  just 
rising  into  the  second  class.'  This  is  the  outside  com- 
pliment we  could  pay  to  a  numerous  section  of  as- 
siduous whist-players.  Yet,  as  Lord  Chesterfield  told 
his  sou,  Avhatever  is  worth  doing  at  all  is  worth  doing 
well ;  and  one  would  have  thought  that  a  few  hours' 
studv  might  be  advantageously  bestowed  in  escaping 
this  constantly  recurring  condition  of  embarrassment, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  annoyance  which  may  be  read  in 


3S8  WIIIST    AND    WIIIST-rLAYERS. 

tlie  partner's  face,  however  indulgent  or  well-bred, 
when  he  or  she  happens  to  know  something  of  the 
game. 

This  want  of  proper  grounding  and  training,  far  from 
being  confmed  to  the  idle  and  superficial,  is  frequently 
detected  or  avowed  in  the  higher  orders  of  intel- 
lect, in  the  most  accomplished  and  cultivated  minds. 
'  Lady  Donegal  and  I,'  writes  Miss  Berry,  '  played 
whist  with  Lord  Ellenborough  and  Lord  Erskine  ;  I 
doubt  which  of  the  four  plays  worst.'  Lord  Thurlow 
declared  late  in  life  that  he  would  give  half  his  fortune 
to  play  well.  Why  did  he  not  set  about  it  ?  Lord 
Lyndhurst  and  Lord  Wensleydale  were  on  a  par 
with  Lord  Ellenborough  and  Lord  Erskine,  yet  they 
were  both  very  fond  of  the  game,  and  both  would 
eagerly  have  confirmed  the  justice  of  Talleyrand's  w^ell- 
known  remark  to  the  youngster  who  rather  boastingly 
declared  his  ignorance  of  it :  '  Quelle  triste  vieillesse 
vous  vous  pi'cparez  !  '^  It  is  an  invaluable  resource  to 
men  of  studious  habits,  whose  eyes  and  mental  faculties 
equally  require  relief  in  the  evening  of  life  or  after  the 
grave  labours  of  the  day ;  and  the  interest  rises  with 
the  o;rowino"  consciousness  of  skill. 

The  main  cause  of  this  educational  omission  or 
neglect  is  the  rooted  belief  that  whist  cannot  be 
tauglit  by  study  or  reading,  which  is  pretty  nearly 
tantamount  to  saying  that  it  cannot  be  taught  at  all ; 
for  there  is  no  reason  why  a  sound  j)recept,  orally 
communi(,'ated  at  a  card-table,  should  be  less  sound  and 
useful  when  printed  in  a  book.  Moreover,  the  book  has 
one  marked  advantaoje  over  the  oral  instructor  :  it  o-ives 
time   for   reflection,    and   does    not  give  occasion  for 

'  To  Talleyrand  at  the  whist-tablo  might  be  applied,  with  the  change 
of  a  Avoid,  the  couplet  of  Pope  : 

'  See  how  the  world  its  veterans  rewards, 
A  youth  of  plottinf,',  an  old  age  of  cards.' 
Talleyrand  was  far  from  a  good  player,  and,  as  might  have  been  antici- 
pated, unduly  prone  to  lini'Ssing  and  false  cards. 


WIIIST   AND   WIIIST-rLAYERS.  389 

irritability.  We  liavc  no  elementary  schools  of  whist,  nor 
paid  teachers  as  in  billiards  ;  and  a  competent  amateur, 
when  taking  his  place  oi)posite  a  lady  partner,  is 
almost  invariably  addressed  :  '  Now  pray  don't  scold  ;  I 
can't  bear  scolding.'  In  other  words;  '  I  can't  bear  to 
be  taught.'  Even  when  a  lady  requests  to  be  told  if 
she  plays  wrong,  the  odds  are  that,  unless  she  is 
resolutely  bent  on  fascinating,  she  will  turn  upon  you,  if 
you  are  simple  enough  to  take  her  at  her  word,  like  the 
matron  in  Coelehs  who  was  lamenting  her  own  exceeding 
sinfulness — 

'-Mr.  Ranhy :  You  accuse  yourself  too  heavil}',  my  dear; 
you  have  sins  to  be  sure. 

'  Mrs.  Ranhy  (in  a  raised  voice  and  angry  tone)  :  And 
pray  what  sins  have  I,  INIr'.  Ranby  ?  ' 

A  critical  remark  to  a  male  partner,  or  an 
attempt  to  talk  over  the  hand,  is  frequently  met  in  a 
manner  that  docs  not  invite  a  repetition  of  the 
experiment,  although  a  polite  inquiry  why  a  particular 
card  was  played  is  an  implied  compliment.  General 
de  Yautre,  the  author  of  Le  Genie  de  Whist, 
complained  that  more  than  one  of  his  friends  declined 
playing  with  him,  saying :  '  If  I  am  your  partner  I 
get  scolded,  and  if  I  am  your  adversary  I  lose.' 
Mr.  Clay  speaks  with  his  characteristic  good  sense 
on  this  topic  : 

'  Talkino;  over  the  hand  afteV  it  has  been  played  is  not 
\ni commonly  called  a  bad  habit,  and  an  annoyance.  I  am 
firmly  persuaded  that  it  is  among  the  readiest  ways  of 
learning  whist,  and  I  advise  beginners,  when  they  have  not 
understood  their  partner's  play,  or  when  they  think  that  the 
hand  might  have  been  differently  played  with  a  better 
result,  to  ask  for  information,  and  invite  discussion.  They 
will,  of  course,  select  for  this  purpose  a  player  of  recognised 
skill,  and  will  have  little  diffieiilty  in  distinf^uishinjr  the 
dispassionate  and  reasonino-  man  from  him  wlio  judges  ])y 
results,    and    finds    fault    only    because    things    have    gone 


390  WHIST   AXD   WHIST-rLAYERS. 

wrong.  They  Avill  rarely  find  a  real  iivhist-pl ayer  so  dis 
courteous  as  to  refuse  every  information  in  his  power,  for 
he  takes  interest  in  the  beginner  who  is  anxious  to  improve.' 

But  real  whist-players  will  rarely  take  sufficient 
interest  in  beginners,  however  anxious  to  improve,  to 
be  willing  to  cut  in  with  them  before  a  certain  amount 
of  progress  has  been  made  ;  and  a  request  for 
information,  betraying  a  want  of  elementary  knowledge, 
might  provoke  an  answer  like  Dr.  Johnson's  to  the 
young  gentleman  who  asked  him  whetlier  the  cat  was 
oviparous  or  viviparous :  '  Sir,  you  should  read  the 
common  books  of  natural  history,  and  not  come  to  a  man 
of  a  certain  age  and  some  attainments  to  ask  whether 
the  cat  lays  eggs.'  With  reference,  also,  to  your  own 
immediate  interest,  you  had  better  hold  your  tongue, 
or  reserve  your  comments  till  the  party  has  broken 
up  ;  for  the  offender  will  probably  play  worse. 

Eooks,  therefore,  are  the  readiest  and  surest 
sources  of  instruction,  but  to  begin  with  books  would 
be  as  absurd  as  tlie  practice  of  teaching  Latin  and 
Greek  through  the  medium  of  a  Latin  grammar. 
It  is  now  admitted  that  the  Hamiltonian  method  of 
learning  languages  is  the  best.  Acquire  a  sufficient 
stock  of  words  before  meddling  with  syntax.  Just 
so  familiarise  yourself  with  the  ordinary  combinations 
of  the  cards  before  venturing  on  tlie  rules  and 
principles  which  constitute  the  syntax  of  the  game. 
But  in  each  case  the  syntax  is  indis])ensable,  when  the 
appropriate  st£ige  of  progress  has  been  reached ;  and 
the  whist-pla3-er  wlio  endeavom's  to  dispense  with  it, 
unless  lie  is  singularly  gifted,  will  bear  the  same 
relation  to  one  of  the  master  spirits  of  the  Portland, 
the  Turf,  or  the  Paris  Jockey  Club,  that  a  courier  or 
quick-witted  lady's  maid  who  had  made  the  tour  of 
Europe,  would  bear  in  linguistic  acquirements  to  the 
trained  diplomatist  who  speaks  and  writes  French, 
German,  and  Italian,  with  correctness  and  facility. 


WniST   AND   WIIIST-PLAYERS.  391 

It  is  the  same  in  all  things  to  whicli  mind  can  be 
applied :  theory  or  science  should  go  hand  in  hand 
with  practice.  This  is  true  even  of  games  of  manual 
dexterity,  like  billiards  and  croquet,  but  it  is  pre- 
eminently true  of  whist.  Nay,  we  shall  show  before 
concluding  that  the  merely  mechanical  quality  of 
memory  hiis  far  less  to  do  with  making  a  fine,  or  even 
a  good  player,  than  the  higher  "quahties  of  judgment, 
observation,  logical  intuition,  and  sagacity. 

The  introduction  of  short  whist  is  thus  described  by 
Mr.  Clay : 

'  Some  eighty  years  back.  Lord  Peterborough  having  one 
night  lost  a  large  sum  of  money,  the  friends  with  whom  he 
was  playing  proposed  to  make  the  game  five  points  instead 
of  ten,  in  order  to  give  the  loser  a  chance,  at  a  quicker 
game,  of  recovering  his  loss.  The  late  Mr.  Hoare,  of  Bath, 
a  very  good  whist-player,  and  without  a  superior  at  piquet, 
was  one  of  this  party,  and  lias  more  than  once  told  me  the 
story.' 

Major  A.,  wiitiug  in  1835,  says  : 

' "  Short  whist  started  up  and  overthrew  the  Long 
Dynasty  more  than  half  a  century  ago,"  thus  confirming 
Mr.  Clay  as  to  the  date ;  but  if  it  started  up  in  the 
eighteenth  century  its  supremacy  was  not  established  till 
far  into  the  nineteenth,  and  many  whist-players  now  living 
imbibed  their  rudiments  under  the  ancient  Long  Dynalty.' 

An  illustration  in  the  Antijacohin  of  1798  goes  far  to 
prove  that  long  whist  alone  was  present  to  the  minds 
of  the  distinguished  writers,  Mr.  Canning  and  INIr. 
Frere  : 

Of  whist  or  cribbnge  ninrk  tli'  .anmsiug  game, 
The  partners  changing,  but  the  sport  the  same  ; 
Else  would  tlie  gamester's  anxious  ardour  cool, 
Dull  every  deal,  and  stagnant  every  pool. 
— Yet  must  one  IMan,  with  one  unceasing  Wife, 
Play  the  Long  Rubber  of  connubial  life. 

The  authorities  differ  as  to  the  origin  of  the  s^hort 
game  : 


302  WniST   AXD    TVIIIST-rLAYERS. 

*This  revolution,'  continues  INIajor  A.,  'was  occasioned  by 
a  worthy  Welsli  baronet  preferring-  his  lobster  for  supper 
Lot.  Four  tirst-rate  whist-players — consequently,  four  great 
men — adjourned  from  the  House  of  Commons  to  Brookes's, 
and  proposed  a  rubber  while  the  cook  was  busy.  "  The 
lobster  must  be  hot,"  said  the  baronet.  "  A  rul)ber  may 
last  an  hour,"  said  another,  "  and  the  lobster  be  cold  again, 
or  spoiled,  before  we  have  finished."  "  It  is  too  long,"  said 
a  third.  "  Let  us  cut  it  shorter,"  said  a  fourth. — Carried, 
nem.  eon.  Down  they  sat,  and  found  it  very  lively  to  win 
or  lose  so  much  quicker.  Besides  furnishing  conversation 
at  supper,  the  thing  was  new — they  were  legislators,  and 
had  a  fine  opportunity  to  exercise  their  calling.' 

Next  day  (lie  adds)  St.  James's  Street  was  iu 
commotion  :  tlie  Longs  and  Shorts  contended  like  the 
Blues  and  Greens  of  the  circus  :  and  for  a  period  it 
was  regarded  as  a  drawn  battle  or  a  tolerably  equal 
contest ;  but  the  old  school  became  gradually  wx\aker 
by  deaths,  and  the  new  school,  when  no  longer 
confronted  by  habit  and  prejudice,  obtained  a 
complete  victory.  The  truth  is,  the  new  game  is  the 
better  of  tlie  t\vo  as  requiring  more  sustained  attention, 
more  rapidity  of  conception,  more  dash,  more  elan, 
and  giving  more  scope  to  genius  than  the  old.  It  is 
the  Napoleonic  strategy  or  tactics  against  the  Austrian 
or  (to  borrow  an  illustration  from  naval  warfare)  it 
may  be  com])ared  to  Nelson's  favourite  manoeuvre  of 
'  breaking  the  line.'  Those  who  maintain  the  contrary, 
must  maintain  that  the  second  half  of  the  old  frame 
(when  it  stood  five  to  five)  was  less  critical  and  less 
calculated  for  the  display  of  skill  than  the  first.  At 
all  events,  the  popular  decree  is  irrevocable,  and  the 
revolution  has  been  rendered  more  complete  by 
circumstances  v.hidi  are  a]:»positely  stated  by  Mr, 
Cliy: 

'  I  remember,  as  a  youngster,  being  told  by  one  of  the 
liighebt  aufliorilies,  on   tlie   occasion   of  my   iiaving  led  a 


WIIIST    AXD    WIIBT-PLAYERS.  893 

single  trump  from  a  liand  of  great  strongtli  in  all  ilic  dtlicr 
suits,  that  the  only  justitication  for  leading  a  singleton  in 
trumps  was  the  holding  at  least  ace  and  king  in  the  tliree 
remaining  suits,  lie  spok(>  the  ()])inion  of  liis  schotil.  1'Iiat 
school,  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  might  teach  us  much  that 
we  have  neglected,  hut  I  sliould  pick  out  of  it  one  man 
alone,  the  celebrated  Major  Aubrey,  as  likely  to  be  very 
formidable  among  the  best  players  of  the  present  day.  lie 
was  a  player  of  great  original  genius,  and  refused  strict 
adherence  to  the  over  careful  system,  to  which  his  com- 
panions were  slaves. 

'But  whist  had  travelled,  and  tliirty  or  more  years  ago 
we  began  to  hear  of  the  great  Paris  wliist-players.  Tliey 
sometimes  came  among  us — more  freijuently  our  champions 
encountered  them  on  their  own  ground,  and  returned  to  us 
with  a  system  modified,  if  not  improved,  by  their  P^rench 

experience We  were  forced  to  recognise  a  wide 

difference  between  their  system  and  our  own,  and  "  the 
French  game  "  became  the  scorn  and  tlie  horror  of  the  old 
school,  wliich  went  gradually  to  its  grave  with  an  unchanged 
faith,  and  in  the  firm  belief  that  the  invaders,  with  tlieir 
rash  trump  leading,  were  all  mad,  and  that  tlieir  great 
master,  Deschapelles — the  finest  whist-player  lieyond  any 
comparison  the  world  has  ever  seen—  was  a  dangerous 
lunatic.  The  new  school,  however,  as  I  well  remember, 
were  found  to  be  winning  players.' 

Now  what  are  the  distinctive  features  of  fhe 
new  school,  its  essential  principles,  its  merits,  and 
its  defects?  Unluckily,  tlie  great  master,  Descliapelles, 
did  not  live  to  carry  out  his  original  plan.  He 
has  left  only  a  single  cliapler  on  La  Doctrine, 
entitled  De  rimpasse  (Of  the  Finesse).  But  his 
mantle  has  fallen  on  no  unworthy  successors,  and  little 
difTiculty  will  be  experienced  in  rendering  his  system 
intelligible  to  those  who  care  to  master  it,  for  it  is 
substantially  that  which  all  the  best  players  in  both 
hemispheres  luivc  adopted  and  recommend  : 

'The  basis  of  tin'  theory  of  ilic  uitulcrn  scientific  game  of 


394  WiriST   AXD   WIIIST-PLAYERS. 

whist  (says  Dr.  Pole)  lies  in  the  relations  existing  between 
the  players. 

'  It  is  a  fundamental  feature  of  the  construction  of  the 
game,  tliat  the  four  players  are  intended  to  act,  not  singly 
and  independently,  but  in  a  double  combination,  two  of 
tliem  being  partners  against  a  partnership  of  the  other 
two.  And  it  is  the  full  recognition  of  this  fact,  carried 
out  into  all  the  ramifications  of  the  play,  which  characterises 
the  scientific  game,  and  gives  it  its  superiority  over  all 
others. 

'  Yet,  obvious  as  this  fact  is,  it  is  astonishing  how  im- 
perfectly it  is  appreciated  among  players  generally.  Some 
ignore  the  partnership  altogether,  except  in  the  mere 
division  of  the  stakes,  neither  caring  to  help  their  partners 
or  be  helped  by  them,  but  playing  as  if  each  had  to  fight 
his  battle  alone.  Others  will  go  farther,  giving  soinie  degree 
of  consideration  to  the  partner,  but  still  always  making 
their  own  hand  the  chief  object ;  and  among  this  latter 
class  are  often  found  players  of  much  skill  and  judgment, 
and  who  pass  for  great  adepts  in  the  game. 

'The  scientific  theory,  however,  goes  much  farther.  It 
carries  out  the  commimity  of  interests  to  the  fullest  extent 
possible.  It  forbids  the  player  to  consider  his  own  hand 
apart  from  that  of  his  partner,  but  commands  him  to  treat 
both  in  strict  conjunction,  teaching  him,  in  fact,  to  play  the 
two  hands  combined  as  if  they  were  one.' 

The  combined  princi])le  was  not  ignored,  it 
was  simply  undervalued,  by  the  old  school.  What 
they  failed  to  see,  and  what  many  modern  players 
cannot  be  brought  to  see  yet,  is  tliat,  with  tolerably 
equal  cards,  the  result  of  the  mimic  cam})aign  hangs 
upon  it,  as  the  fate  of  Germany  hung  on  tlie  junction 
of  Prince  Charles  and  the  Crown  Prince  at  Sadowa, 
or  the  fate  of  Europe  on  the  junction  of  Blucher  and 
Wellington  at  Waterloo.  Of  course  it  is  necessary 
to  agree  upon  a  connnon  object  or  system,  and  this 
auain  is  jjlar-cd  in  tlie  clearest  liglit  by  Dr.  Pole  : 

'  'I'ht'  object  of  play  is  of  course  to  make  tricks,  and  tricks 
may  be  made  in  foiu"  different  ways :  viz. 


WHIST    AND    WIIIST-rLAYERS.  305 

'  1.  By  the  natural  }oredommance  of  master  cards,  as  aces 
and  kings.  Tliis  forms  tlie  leading  idea  of  beginners,  wliose 
notions  of  trick-making  do  not  usually  extend  beyond  the 
high  cards  they  have  happened  to  receive. 

'  2.  Tricks  may  be  also  made  by  taking  advantage  of  the 
position  of  the  cards,  so  as  to  evade  the  higher  ones,  and 
make  smaller  ones  win ;  as,  for  example,  in  finessing,  and  in 
leading  up  to  a  weak  suit.  This  method  is  one  which, 
although  always  kept  well  in  view  by  good  players,  is  yet 
only  of  accidental  occurrence,  and  therefore  does  not  enter 
into  our  present  discussion  of  the  general  systems  of  treating 
the  hand. 

'  3.  Another  mode  of  trick-making  is  by  trumping ;  a 
system  almost  as  fascinating  to  beginners  as  the  realisation 
of  master  cards ;  but  the  correction  of  this  predilection 
requires  much  deeper  study. 

'  4.  The  fourth  method  of  making  tricks  is  by  establishing 
and  bringing  in  a  long  suit,  every  card  of  which  will  then 
make  a  trick,  whatever  be  its  value.  This  method,  though 
the  most  scientific,  is  the  least  obvious,  and  therefore  is  the 
least  practised  by  young  players. 

'  Now  the  first,  third,  and  fourth  methods  of  making 
tricks  may  be  said  to  constitute  different  systems,  according 
to  either  of  which  a  player  may  view  his  hand  and  regulate 
his  play.' 

This  is  illustrated  by  an  example.  The  hand  of  tlie 
player  with  whom  the  opening  lead  lies,  is  thus  com- 
posed :  Hearts  (trumps),  queen,  nine,  six.  three. 
Spades,  king,  knave,  eight,  four,  three,  two.  Diamonds, 
ace,  king.  Cluhs,  a  singleton.  He  may  lead  off  the 
ace  and  king  of  chamonds  (System  No.  1) ;  or  the 
singleton  in  the  hope  of  a  ruff  (No.  3) ;  or  the  smallest 
of  his  long  suit  (No.  4)  on  the  chance  of  establishing  it 
and  making  three  or  four  tricks  in  it.  In  other  words, 
he  has  to  choose  between  the  three  systems  ;  and  the 
paramount  importance  of  tlie  choice  consists  in  its 
deciding  the  opening  lead,  by  far  the  most  important 
of  the  whole;  as  it  is  tlie  first  indicatitjn  aUbrtled  to 
the  partner.     'He  will,  if  lie  is  a  good  player,  observe 


30G  WIIIST    AXD    WIIIST-PLAYEKS. 

\\\\]\  ijTcnt  attention  the  card  you  lead,  and  will  at  once 
(li'aw  iulerences  from  it  that  may  perhaps  influence  the 
whole  of  his  plans.' 

When  the  highest  authorities,  on  the  most  careful 
calculationof  chances,  have  laid  down  that  the  long  suit 
system  is  the  best,  and  the  long  suit  opening  has  become 
the  received  method  of  carrying  it  out,  a  player  who 
takes  his  own  line,  or  looks  exclusively  to  his  own 
hand,  will  wilfully  commit  what  Mr.  Clay  justly  calls 
'  the  greatest  fault  he  knows  in  a  whist-player.'  All 
that  can  be  said  in  favour  of  the  rival  systems  has  been 
said  a  hundred  times  and  deliberately  set  aside,  but  the 
strongest  of  all  objections  to  each  of  them  is,  that 
neither  admits  of  combined  action,  in  fact,  can  hardly 
be  called  a  system  at  all ;  for  when  you  have  led  off 
your  ace  and  king,  you  are  at  a  standstill ;  and  when 
you  have  led  your  singleton,  you  have  probably  em- 
barrassed instead  of  informing  your  partner ;  and  it 
is  fortunate  if  you  have  not  led  him  into  a  scrape. 
Besides,  you  may  have  no  ace  and  king,  and  no  single- 
ton ;  whereas  you  must  always  have  what  (compara- 
tively speaking)  may  be  called  your  strong  suit,  if  only 
consisting  of  four.^ 

Players  who  lind  an  irresistible  fascination  in  leadincf 
their  best  cards,  or  in  trumping,  miiy  also  take  comfort 
in  the  reflection  thai  they  are  not  requested  to  abandon 
theu'  favom-ite  tactics  altogether ;  for  occasions  are 
constantly  arising  when  it  becomes  advisable  to  fall 
back  u])on  them  ;  just  as  the  most  consummate  general 
may  be  (•(»!ii])ell('d  to  resort  to  defensive  or  guerilla 
warfare,  when  he  is  too  weak  to  hazard  a  pitched  battle 

'  Tlic  piincipli!  of  k-ading-  from  the  lonjj^  suit  is  by  no  moans  universally 
a<luiitU'<l  in  France,  and  Avas  formerly  much  contested  in  ]Migland. 
Colont.'l  Anson  pronounced  it  the  height  of  bad  play  to  lead  from  a  suit 
in  which  you  had  nothing  higher  tlian  a  ten,  if  you  had  a  suit  with  an 
honour  to  lead  from;  unless,  from  strength  in  trumps,  there  was  a  proba- 
bility of  bringing  in  the  snuill  cards.  Another  moot  point  is,  whether 
you  should  carry  out  the  principle  if  your  only  four  suits  happened  to  be 
trumps,  and  you  hate  no  good  cards  in  the  other  suits. 


WHIST    AXD    WIIIST-rLAYRRS.  397 

or  a  siege  in  form.  It  can  liaidly  ever  be  ri^lit  to  lead 
off' an  ace  and  king  witli  no  other  of  the  suit,  for  tliey 
are  almost  sure  of  making  at  a  more  opportune  period 
of  the  game.  But  wlien  hekl  with  others  in  an  otlier- 
wise  weak  hand,  i.e.^  without  strengtli  in  trumps  or  tlie 
chance  of  estabhshing  a  suit,  liigli  cards  may  be  judi- 
ciously led  at  once  to  avoid  their  being  trumped.  When- 
ever, therefore,  a  good  player  plays  out  his  winning 
card^,  witliout  first  playing  trumps,  it  is  a  manifest 
token  of  weakness  instead  of  an  exhilntion  of  strength. 
The  argument  is  thus  sununed  up  by  Dr.  Pole  : 

'  Accepting,  therefore,  this  system  as  the  preferable  one, 
we  are  now  able  to  enunciate  the  fundamental  theory  of  the 
modern  scientific  game,  which  is — 

'  That  the  hands  of  the  two  partners  shall  not  he  played 
singly  and  independently,  but  shall  be  combined,  and  treated 
as  one.  And  that  in  order  to  carry  out  most  effectually  this 
principle  of  combination,  each  partner  shall  adopt  the  long 
suit  system  as  the  general  basis  of  his  play.' 

Mark  the  words  '  general  basis.'  This  is  quite 
enough  to  bring  about  the  required  understanding,  and 
you  are  at  full  liberty  to  adapt  your  play  to  circum- 
stances when  yonr  partner  makes  no  distinct  call  upon 
you,  or  is  unable  to  co-operate  in  the  execution  or  a 
plan. 

Dr.  Pole,  my  partner  and  first  player,  leads  a  small 
card  of  a  suit  (say  hearts)  in  which  I  am  very  weak. 
I  am  strong  in  two  other  suits,  and  tolerably  strong 
(say  foiu",  with  a  high  honouj-)  in  trumps.  As  soon 
as  I  get  the  lead,  in  full  confidence  that  he  is  nume- 
rically strong  in  hearts,  I  lead  a  trump.  But  what  am 
I  to  do  if  I  have  a  partner  who  is  in  the  habit  of  lead- 
ing a  singleton,  or  from  a  two  suit,  with  a  view  to 
trumping,  or  who  does  so  often  enough  to  justify 
distrust  ? 

It  is  an  obvious  corollary   that  the  prinmry  use  of 


?,98  WHIST    AXD    WHIST-PLAYERS. 

trumps  is  to  draw  tlie  tidversary's  trumps  for  tlie  pur- 
pose of  bringing  in  your  own  or  your  partner's  long 
suit ;  and  it  is  consequently  essential  to  determine  what 
strength  in  trumps  justifies  you  in  leading  them.  There 
is  a  capital  sketch  of  a  whist  party  in  '  Sans  Merci,'  by 
the  author  of  '  Guy  Livingston,'  in  wdiicli  the  hero,  who 
is  losinf"-  to  a  starthnii;  amount,  asks  his  partner,  an  old 
hand,  whether  with  knave  five  he  ought  not  to  have 
led  trumps.  '  It  has  been  computed,'  w\as  the  calm 
reply,  '  tliat  eleven  thousand  Englishmen,  once  heirs  to 
fair  fortunes,  are  wandering  about  the  Continent,  in  a 
state  of  utter  destitution,  because  they  would  not  lead 
trumps  witli  five  and  an  honour  in  tlieir  hands.'  Pro- 
fessor Pole  is  distinct  and  positive  on  this  point : 

'  Whenever  you  have  five  trumps,  whatever  they  are,  or 
whatever  the  other  components  of  your  hand,  you  should  lead 
them ;  for  the  probability  is  that  three,  or  at  most  four, 
roimds  will  exhaust  those  of  tlie  adversaries,  and  you  will 
still  have  one  or  two  left  to  bring  in  your  own  or  your 
partner's  long  suits,  and  to  stop  those  of  the  enemy.  .  .  . 
And,  further,  you  must  recollect  that  it  is  no  argument 
against  leading  trumps  from  five,  that  you  have  no  long 
suit,  and  that  your  hand  is  otherwise  weak ;  for  it  is  the 
essence  of  the  combined  principle  that  you  work  for  your 
partner  as  well  as  yourself,  and  the  probability  is  that  if  you 
are  weak,  he  is  strong,  and  will  have  long  suits  or  good  cards 
to  bring  in.  And  if,  unfortunately,  it  should  happen  that 
you  are  both  weak,  any  other  play  would  be  probably  still 
worse  for  you.' 

Cavendish  says  that,  witli  thx3  original  load  and  five 
trumps,  you  should  almost  always  lead  one  ;  with  six,  in- 
variably. Colonel  Blyth,  after  giving  the  same  qualified 
opinion  in  his  text,  adds  in  a  note :  '  I  once  heard  a 
first-rate  whist-player  say  that,  with  four  trumps  in 
y(jur  liaiid,  it  was  mostly  right  to  lead  iliem  ;  Init  that 
he  who  held  five  and  did  not  lead  them,  was  lit  only 
for  a  lunatic  asylum.'  This  first-rate  whist-player  had 
piobably  recently  been  playing  with  one  of  the  eleven 


WIIIST    AXD    WIIIST-PLAYERS.  399 

thousand,  or  with  stroiig-iniiidctl  females  wlio  ;iro  most 
provokingly  reticent  of  trum[)s.  AVe  sliould  recom- 
mend every  incipient  wJiist-player,  wlio  lias  not  ex- 
perience enough  to  mark  the  rare  exceptional  cases, 
to  lead  one  when  he  holds  more  than  fonr,  but  to  pause 
and  reflect  with  four.  With  less  than  five,  or  strength 
enough  to  ensure  the  command,  trumps  should  not 
be  led,  uidess  it  is  obviously  advantageous  to  get  them 
out.  It  is  obviously  advantageous  when  you  or  your 
partner  have  good  cards  to  make,  and  obviously  disad- 
vantageous when  you  have  not.  If  there  are  two  or 
more  honours  amongst  your  four,  or  the  ace,  you  may 
lead  one  with  comparatively  little  risk. 

The  smallest  should  be  led  from  four  or  more, 
except  when  you  lead  from  a  sequence  of  three,  or 
except  when  3-ou  have  king,  knave,  ten,  with  others, 
when  the  received  lead  is  the  ten.^  Mr.  Clay  has  laid 
down  7iem.  con.  (at  least  neni.  con.  amongst  the  re- 
ceived authorities)  that  with  ace,  king,  and  other  small 
trumps,  you  should  lead  the  lowest,  unless  you  have 
more  than  six,  i:e.^  as  an  original  lead,  or  before  cir- 
cumstances have  called  for  two  rounds  certain.  The 
reason  is  that  you  may  otherwise  lose  the  third  and 
most  important  trick ;  for  if  you  have  no  more  than 
six,  the  odds  are  that  one  of  your  adversaries  has  ^ 
least  three,  headed  by  a  superior  card  to  your  third 
best.  The  odds  are  also  in  favour  of  your  partner 
holding  the  queen  or  knave,  and  if  the  queen  is  on  his 
right,  the  knave  is  commonly  as  good  as  the  queen. 
With  ace,  king,  knave,  and  three  small  trumps,  it  may 
be  as  well  to  lead  the  ace  and  king,  on  the  chance  of 
the  queen  falling.  With  ace,  king,  knave,  and  less  than 
three,  the  approved  practice  is  to  lead  the  king,  and 
wait  for  the  return  of  the  lead  to  finesse  the  knave. 

With  a  hand  requiring  or  justifying  a  trump  lead, 

^  The  above  rule,  and  the  exceptiun,  are  equally  applicable  to  plain 
suits. 


400  WIIIST    AND    WIIIST-rLAYERS.  ' 

tlie  fact  of  an  lionuur  he-iiig  turned  up  on  your  rioiit 
must  be  disregarded,  even  .witli  a  certainty  of  its  taking 
your  partner's  best  card,  the  grand  object  being  to  get 
the  connnand  of  trumps,  not  the  first  trick  in  them. 
Unless  you  wisli  the  lead  in  trunii)s  to  be  returned,  do 
not  (at  least  not  early  in  the  hand)  lead  througli  an 
honour,  for  the  practice  of  leading  through  honours, 
exce})t  as  a  regular  trump  lead,  has  been  fortunately 
given  uj).  We  say  fortunately,  for,  so  long  as  it  pre- 
vailed, it  was  impossible  to  know  whether  the  lead 
through  the  honour  was  a  regular  lead  of  trumps  or 
not.  At  the  same  time,  an  experienced  player  may 
exercise  his  discretion  as  to  returning  the  lead  up  to  a 
high  honour,  especially  if  he  can  replace  the  lead  in 
his  partner's  hand  and  so  enable  him  to  lead  through 
the  lionour  a  second  time. 

There  is  another  case  when  you  may  avoid  returning 
a  lead  of  trumps,  whether  througli  an  honour  or  not, 
i.e.^  when  your  partner  has  evidently  led  from  weakness 
or  desperation  in  a  peculiar  condition  of  the  game. 
Thus,  when  he  leads  a  knave,  you  may  generall}^  take 
for  granted  that  it  is  his  best,  for  (in  England)  there  is 
no  recognised  trump  lead  from  knave  with  a  higher  in 
the  hand.  The  lead  of  the  ten  may  be  from  king, 
knave,  ten,  with  or  without  others,  and  may  place  you 
in  doubt  unless  you  know  that  your  partner  cannot 
have  both  king  and  knave.  In  om*  opinion  you  sliould 
always,  when  third  player,  pass  the  ten  of  trumps  unless 
you  have  only  ace  and  another,  and  it  is  an  object  to 
seciu'e  two  rounds,  or  unless  you  see  your  Avay  clear  to 
winiiiiiL{  both  that  and  the  two  followiuir  tricks.  If  the 
ten  does  not  make,  it  forces  an  honour  and  compels 
your  left-hand  advei'sary  to  play  up  to  you.  It  is  quite 
painful  to  sec  an  ace  or  king  put  upon  a  ten,  evidently 
h'd  from  weakness;  and  it  is  im])ossible  to  ])lay  a  fine 
or  even  safe  game  with  a  partner  who  cannot  dis- 
tinguish a  forced   lead   from  an  ordinary  or  original 


WIIIST    AND    WIIIST-PLAYERS.  401 

one.  It  is  useless  in  any  suit  for  tlie  tliird  player  to 
put  the  queen  on  his  partner's  ten.  One  time  for  tliis 
lead  (of  the  ten)  is  when  the  game  is  obviously  lost,  or 
in  great  jeopardy,  unless  your  partner  is  strong  in 
trumps.  For  example,  your  adversaries  are  three  love, 
and  your  only  trump,  or  highest  of  two  or  three,  is 
the  ten.  The  game  is  lost  unless  your  partner  has 
two  honours,  and  your  ten  will  materially  strengthen 
him,  if  he  has. 

On  the  same  principle,  when,  to  enable  you  to  win 
or  save  the  game,  it  is  necessary  that  the  remaining 
cards  should  be  placed  in  a  particular  manner,  play  as 
if  you  knew  them  to  be  so  placed.  This  is  the  secret 
of  many  of  the  most  celebrated  instances  of  fine  play. 
The  French  Amateur  (who  alwaj^s  makes  Pitt  and 
Burke  partners  against  Fox  and  Sheridan)  gives 
this  example  : 

Fox  and  Sheridan  are  at  the  score  of  four,  and,  out 
of  nine  tricks  played,  have  w^on  six.  Pitt  and  Burke 
must  win  the  remaining  four  to  save  the  game.  Pitt 
has  the  ace  and  a  small  trump,  with  two  cards  of  a 
suit  of  which  Burke  holds  the  best  and  last.  There 
are  six  trumps  remaining  in  the  other  hands.  Fox 
plays  a  card  of  a  suit  in  which  Pitt  (last  player)  has 
renounced.  Pitt  trumps  wdth  his  ace  and  leads  fts 
small  trump.  Burke  makes  a  successfid  finesse, 
takes  out  the  trumps,  and  wins  the  fourth  trick  by 
his  last  card.  This  was  the  only  way  in  wliich 
the  game  could  have  been  saved  :  and  it  could  not 
have  been  saved  unless  the  trumps  had  been  equally 
divided  and  the  successful  finesse  had  been  open 
to  Burke.  Pitt,  therefore,  proceeded  on  the 
assumption  that  they  were  so  divided.  If  he  had 
trumped  with  his  small  trump,  he  could  not  liave 
ensured  a  second  lead  of  trumps,  and  Fox  or  Sheridan 

VOL.  I.  D  D 


402  WHIST    AXD    WHIST-PLATERS. 

must    infallibly    have    made    the    seventh    trick    by 
trumping.^ 

The  same  state  of  things  may  justify  or  requii^e  a 
trump  lead,  when  you  have  no  trump  that  can  be 
called  strengthening,  not  even  a  nine ;  but  the 
lead  of  a  singleton  in  trumps  ^vith  nothing  in 
the  liand  of  the  player  or  tlie  state  of  the  score 
to  justify  it,  strikes  us  to  be  reprehensible  in  the 
extreme.  We  do  not  go  the  length  of  saying  with  the 
champion  of  the  old  school,  quoted  by  ^ir.  Clay,  that 
the  only  justification  for  leading  a  singleton  in  trumps 
(presumably  not  an  honour)  is  holding  at  least  ace  and 
king  in  the  three  remaining  suits.  But  there  should 
be  strength  in  each  of  the  three  remaining  suits 
sufficient  to  prevent  the  estabhshment  of  a  long  suit 
by  the  adversaries.  There  is  also  this  essential 
objection.  The  first  duty  of  a  player  is  to  decide, 
after  a  careful  study  of  his  cards,  whether  he  is  to  play 
a  superior  or  inferior  part,  whether  he  is  to  be 
commander  or  subordinate  for  the  hand,  wdiether  he  is 
to  act  on  the  offensive  or  defensive,  to  aim  at  winning  or 
saving  the  game.  Now  with  one  triunp  and  no  great 
strength  in  other  suits,  you  have  no  right  to  assume 
the  command  by  forcing  a  trump  lead  on  your  partner, 
who,  with  a  single  honour  and  without  what  can  be 
called  strength  in  trumps,  may  manage  to  save  the 
game,  if  you  do  not  force  him  into  the  sacrifice  of 
his  best  card  at  starting.  Leave  him  to  initiate 
the  lead  of  trumps  either  by  leading  or  asldng  for 
them.  Begin  with  your  high  cards  and  watch  for  the 
signal :  if  it  is  not  forthcoming,  go  on  with  them  and 
force.  If  you  have  no  high  cards,  cadit  qaestio  :  you 
would  be  clearly  wrong  to  lead  the  trum[). 

As  for  people  who  lead  trumps  because    they    are 


'  Tliree  ireful  illustratious  are  givou  in  Mr.  Clay's  cliii))tcr  '  WJien  to 
1)1,-^^(11(1  Kule.' 


WHIST    AND    WIIIST-rLAYERS.  403 

at  a  loss  what  else  to  lead,  they  might  just  as  well  take 
the  most  important  step  in  life,  go  into  orders,  turn 
soldier  or  sailor,  marry  or  get  unmarried,  from 
sheer  lassitude  and  vacuity.  It  is  Lord  Derby's  leap 
in  the  dark,  repeated  on  a  small  scale.  A  trump  lead 
almost  always  brings  matters  to  a  crisis,  and  slioukl 
never  be  hazarded  without  a  reason.  If  absolutely  no 
semblance  of  a  reason  suggests  itself,  play  any  card 
rather  than  a  trump ;  and  if  this  blank  state  of  mind 
is  of  frequent  recurrence  after  a  resolute  effort  to 
improve,  we  should  address  the  dubitant  pretty  nearly 
as  the  French  fencing-master  addressed  the  late  Earl  of 
E.  at  the  conclusion  of  six  months'  teaching  :  '  Milord, 
je  vous  couseille  decidement  d'abandonner  les  armes.' 

The  importance  of  the  trump  lead  can  hardly  be 
over-estimated  when  we  consider  that  (with  the 
exception  already  hinted  at)  it  should  be  returned 
immediately.  Playing  out  high  cards  before  returning 
the  trump,  is  incurring  the  very  risk  the  trump 
lead  is  intended  to  obviate.  An  amiable  French  gen- 
tleman, M.  Guy  de  la  Tour  du  Pin — who,  by  the  way, 
once  fought  a  duel  about  whist — on  being  reproached 
by  a  partner  with  not  returning  the  trump  lead,  made 
answer,  '  Je  ne  suis  fas  voire  doniestique.'  Let  us 
hope  that  there  was  something  in  the  partner's  ton^to 
justify  this  most  unreasonable  retort.  It  is  an  aphorism  of 
traditional  respectabihty  that  the  only  excuses  for  not 
returning  a  trump  are  a  fit  of  apoplexy  or  not  having 
any.  These,  too,  are  the  only  available  excuses  for 
not  leading  trumps  when  your  partner  asks  for  them, 
and  leading  them  in  a  manner  to  carry  out  his 
supposed  wishes  to  the  full. 

*It  (asking  for  trumps)  consists  in  throiuing  aiuay  an 
unnecessarily  hic/h  card,  and  it  is  requisite  to  pay  great 
attention  to  this  definition.  Thus,  if  you  have  the  deuce 
and  three  of  a  suit  of  which  two  rounds  are  played,  by 
playing  the  three  to  the  first  round  and  the  deuce  to  the 


404  WHIST    AXD    WHIST-PLAYERS. 

second,  you  have  signified  to  your  partner  your  wish  that  he 
should  lead  a  trump  as  soon  as  he  gets  the  lead.' 

Mr.  Clay,  after  a  satisfactory  defence  of  tlie 
fairness  of  the  signal,  goes  on  to  contend  that  it 
should  never  be  given  simply  because  the  demandant 
would  rather  have  trumps  played  upon  the  whole. 
He  regards  it  as  tantamount  to  saying :  '  I  am  so 
strong,  that  if  you  have  anything  to  assist  me,  I  answer 
for  the  game,  or,  at  least,  for  a  great  score.  Throw 
all  your  strength  into  my  hand,  abandon  your  OA\ni 
game,  at  least  lead  me  a  trump,  and  leave  the  rest 
to  me.' 

So  grave  does  the  resulting  responsibility  appear  to 
this  master  of  the  art,  that,  he  tells  us,  it  is  not  in  his 
recollection  that  he  eveT  took  this  liberty  with  his 
partner  when  he  held  less  than  four  trumps  two 
honours,  or  five  trumps  one  honour,  along  with  cards 
in  his  or  (ob\aously)  in  his  partner's  hand  which 
made  the  fall  of  the  trumps  very  plainly  advantageous, 
adding  :  '  I  am  flir  fi'om  saying,  that  with  the  strength 
in  trumps  which  I  have  described,  it  is  always,  or  even 
generally,  advisable  to  ask  for  trumps.  I  have  only 
ventured  to  lay  down  that  which,  in  my  opinion, 
should  be  the  minimum.' 

Upon   this   conventional   understanding,   a    partner 
with  two  or  three  trumps  should  lead  the  best,  and  if 
it  makes,  follow  with  the  next  best :  with  ace,  queen, 
and  another,  lead  the  ace,  then  the  queen,  and  then  the 
other,  unless  checked  by  an  indication   that  his  left- 
hand  adversary  has  no  more.     If  the  left-hand  adver- 
sary liolds  out,  it  is  generally  best  to  give  the  third 
round,  as  tlie  calling  partner  lies  over  him.     Many  a 
game   has    been    missed    by  rigid    adherence    to    the 
df)ctiine  of  not  drawing  two  trumps  for  one.     With 
four,  unless  headed  by  the  ace,  lead  the  lowest :  witli 
an  ace  and  others,  ihe  ace.     Keeping  in  view  llic  main 


WHIST   AND   WIIIST-PLAYERS.  405 

object,  the  strengthening  of  your  pcartner,  no  player  of 
ordinary  sagacity  can  be  at  a  loss  how  to  meet  a  call 
for  trumps,  i.e.,  witli  a  partner  wjio  abides  by  Mr. 
Clay's  minimum.^ 

In  returning  a  lead,  whether  in  plain  suits  or 
trumps,  if  you  have  not  decided  strength,  you  should 
be  guided  by  the  same  principle  of  self-sacrifice. 
Having  only  three  originally,  you  should  return  the 
best ;  with  four  or  more  originally,  the  lowest.  Thus, 
with  ace,  ten,  three,  and  deuce,  you  should  win  with 
the  ace,  and  return  the  deuce.  With  ace,  ten,  and 
deuce  only,  you  win  with  the  ace,  and  return  the  ten. 
This  not  only  strengthens  your  partner :  it  enables  him 
to  count  your  hand  : 

*  The  inventor  of  tliis  signal  (Lord  H.  Eentinck)  is  said  to  have 
regretted  his  ingenuitj*.  There  will  be  additional  occasion  for  regret  if 
a  suggested  extension  of  it  should  be  adopted  into  the  recognised  lan- 
guage of  the  game.  A  small  card  is  led :  the  second  player,  holding 
queen,  knave,  and  a  small  card  of  the  suit,  plays  the  queen,  and  subse- 
quently the  knave.  We  have  recently  heard  it  contended  that  this  is  a 
call.  Now,  the  knave  is  played  second  from  such  a  hand  to  win  the  trick 
and  prevent  a  small  card  from  making.  The  queen  when  played  instead, 
fulfils  the  same  function.  She  is  not  thrown  mvay  ;  she  saves  the  knave 
at  all  events ;  and  if  this  definition  is  to  be  disregarded,  plaxjiny  the 
queen  third  or  fourth,  with  no  higher  card  on  the  table,  would  be 
equally  the  commencement  of  a  call.  Even  winning  a  trick  with  any 
card,  and  then  playing  the  one  next  beneath  it,  would  be  a  call,  B.g., 
winning  with  the  ace  and  then  playing  the  king ;  or  playing  the  king 
second  hand  and  then  the  queen. 

The  origin  of  the  practice  may  throw  light  on  this  question.  It 
began  by  throwing  away,  or  dropping,  a  high  card  to  induce  a  belief  that 
you  had  no  more,  and  were  likely  to  trump.  No  adversary  would  be  led 
to  this  belief  by  your  phiying  a  high  card  with  no  higher  on  the  table. 

There  are  cases  in  which  it  is  better  to  call  for  trumps  tlian  to 
lead  them,  and  the  greatest  confusion  may  ensue  if  the  practice  should 
be  thus  indefinitely  extended.  My  partner  plays  a  queen  second  hand 
which  is  taken  by  the  ace.  Am  I  to  draw  the  ordinary  inference  that 
he  has  the  king  or  no  more  of  the  suit  ?  And  what  is  he  to  do  if 
led  through  a  second  time  ?  Is  he  literally  to  throw  away  his  knave, 
which  has  become  second  best,  and  may  probably  make  a  trick  'i  The 
same  difficulty  arises  when  the  king  is  played  second  from  king  and 
queen.  Opinions  may  differ  whether  this  mode  of  playing  the  queen, 
Iniave,  or  king,  queen,  &c.,  is  technically  a  call.  But  the  writer  has  not 
seen  or  heard  of  a  single  instance  of  its  being  actually  put  in  practice. 


406  WHIST   A\D   WHIST-rLAlTIRS. 

'  In  trumps,  for  instance  (says  Mr.  Clay),  when  lie  holds 
one,  with  only  one  other  left  against  him,  he  will  very 
frequently  know,  as  surely  as  if  he  looked  into  your  hand, 
whether  that  other  trump  is  held  by  you,  or  by  an  adversary. 
It  follows  from  the  above  that  you  should  not  ftiil  to  remark 
the  card  in  your  own  lead,  which  your  partner  returns  to 
you,  and  whether  that  which  he  plays  to  the  third  round  is 
higher  or  lower  than  that  which  he  returned.' 

The  principle  is  partially  applicable  to  original  leads. 
Thus,  if  you  have  only  two  or  three  cards  of  a  suit 
vriXh  nothing  higher  than  a  knave,  lead  the  higliest :  if 
you  are  compelled  to  lead  from  ace,  king,  or  queen, 
and  a  small  one,  lead  the  highest ;  and  it  is  occasion- 
ally right  with  queen  and  two  small  ones,  to  lead  the 
queen,  thereby  giving  yoiir  partner  the  option  of  pass- 
ing it,  and  at  all  events  strengthening  him  where  you 
are  weak. 

The  safest  leads  are  from  sequences;  and  the  rule  in 
dealing  -mth  them  is  to  lead  the  highest  and  put  on  the 
lowest.^  But  there  are  marked  exceptions.  In  all 
suits,  with  ace  and  king,  you  begin  with  the  king ;  but 
in  trumps,  \vith  a  major  sequence  of  three  or  more, 
you  begin  mth  the  lowest,  because  if  the  lower  are  not 
taken,  your  partner  mil  infer  that  you  have  the  higher ; 
but  if  with  three  or  four  honours  in  plain  suits,  you 
begin  with  the  queen  or  knave,  your  partner  (if  weak 
in  trumps)  might  feel  justified  in  trumping.^  Bearing 
in  mind  that  the  odds  are  four  or  five  to  one  against 
a  suit  going  round  a  third  time  without  a  renounce, 
you  will  see  at  a  glance  why  a  less  venturesome  course 
must  be  pursued  with  plain  suits  than  with  trumps. 
Til  us,  you  play  off  your  ace  and  king  in  a  plain  suit 
instead  of  beginning  with   a  small  one :    with  king, 

^  This  rule  does  not  apply  to  «M6-3equencos.  Thus  with  Idng,  ten, 
nine,  ei^^ht,  you  load  the;  eif^lit. 

*  The  latest  innovation  in  the  language  of  the  game  is  to  play  the  ace 
first  when  you  havo  only  uce  and  king. 


WHIST    AND    WIIIST-rLAYERS.  407 

queen  and  others,  you  lead  tlie  king  in  plain  suits,  and 
a  small  one  in  trumps.  When  your  adversary's  trumps 
are  exhausted,  and  you  are  sure  of  not  losing  the  com- 
mand, a  plain  suit  is  played  like  the  trump  suit.  Thus, 
with  ace,  king  and  others,  you  lead  a  small  one. 

There  are  other  fixed  original  leads   (specified   in 
the  books)  which  must  be  kept  in  mind,  not  only  for 
your  own  threction  in  leading,  but  to  enable  you  to 
draw  inferences  from  what  your  partner  or  adversary 
has  led.     Thus  with  ace  and  four  small  cards  (in  ])lain 
suits),  the  ace  ;  with  ace  and  three,  the  lowest.^     With 
ace,  queen,  knave,  with  or  without  others,  the  ace, 
then  the  queen.     With  an  honour  and  three  or  more 
small  cards,  or  with  four  or  more  small  cards  (not 
headed  by  a  sequence),  the  lowest.     For  leads  fm'ther 
on  in  the  game,  you  may  derive  important  information 
from  the  discard.     A  good  player  generally  discards 
from  his  w^eak  suit,  or  from  the  suit  he  does  not  wish 
led  to  him.    There  is  no  commoner  or  stronger  sign  of 
io-norance  or  inattention  than  instantly  leading,  without 
a  defined  motive,  the  suit  fi'om  which  your  partner  has 
first  thrown  away.     You  should  rarely  lead  it  unless 
you  are  strong  enough  in  it  to  estabhsh  it  without  his 
help.     C.  took  out  the  last  trump.     A.,  his  -  partner, 
ha\^ng  the  complete  command  in  spades,  threw  aWay 
a  club — the  diamonds  being  out.     C.  played  a  club, 
brought  in  the  long  suit  of  his  adversary  (clubs)  and 
lost  the  game.^ 

As  the  game   proceeds,  you  will  of  course  prefer 
leading  through  the  strong  hand  and  up  to  the  weak. 

»  This  is  one  of  the  points  in  which  the  best  Paris  players  differ 
from  the  English.  With  ace  and  three  small  cards,  they  play  the  ace. 
Another  is  in  leading  from  king,  knave,  ten  in  trumps :  they  lead  the 
knave :  we  the  ten. 

'  When  the  remaining  trumps  are  with  the  adversaries,  and  there  is  no 
chance  of  brimming  in  a  strong  suit,  it  may  be  advisable  to  discard  from  it 
so  as  to  keep  what  strength  you  can  in  the  strong  suit  or  suits  of  the 
adversaries. 


408  WIIIST    AND    WIIIST-rLAYERS. 

Do  not  lead  to  force  your  partner,  or  on  the  chance 
of  forcing  him,  unless  you  are  strong  in  trumps.  We 
say  '  or  on  the  chance  of  forcing,'  for  nothing  is  more 
common  than,  after  playing  ace  and  Idng,  to  lead  a 
third  round  in  the  hope  that  the  partner  will  van 
with  the  queen  or  trump.  If  he  is  strong  in  trumps, 
this  is  bad  either  way ;  for  assuming  him  to  have  the 
best  card,  the  odds  are  that  it  will  be  trumped,  whereas 
he  might  have  got  out  trumps  and  been  enabled  to 
make  it. 

Mr.  Clay  lays  down  that  four  trumps  mth  an  honour 
is  the  minimum  strength  that  justifies  a  force  wdthout 
a  peculiar  object,  such  as  securing  a  double  ruff  or 
making  sure  of  a  trick  to  win  or  save  the  game,  or 
unless  your  partner  has  invited  the  force,  or  unless  the 
adversary  has  led  or  asked  for  trumps.  '  This  last  ex- 
ception,' he  says,  'is  the  slightest  of  the  justifications 
for  forcing  your  partner  when  you  are  weak  in  trumps, 
but  it  is  in  most  cases  a  sufficient  apology.'  But,  it 
may  be  replied,  if  the  adversary  has  led  or  asked  for 
trumps,  and  you  are  weak  in  them,  you  should  do  all 
you  can  to  strengthen  instead  of  w^eakening  your  part- 
ner :  instead  of  forcing-  him^  force  (if  you  can)  the 
trump-asldug  or  trump-leading  adversary.  This  is  the 
best  use  of  good  cards  wdien  the  strength  in  trumps  has 
been  declared  against  you  :  but  take  care  that  it  is  the 
strong  adversary  you  force.  '  It  follows  that  there  can 
be  but  few  whist  offences  more  heinous  than  forcing 
your  partner  when  he  has  led  a  trump  (or  refused  to 
trump),  and  you  are  yom'self  not  very  strong  in  them.' 

Tlie  following  is  a  golden  rule  w^hich  should  prevent 
an  infinity  of  liesitation  :  '  With  four  trumps  do  not 
trump  an  uncertain  card,  i.e.,  one  which  your  partner 
may  be  able  to  win.  With  less  than  four  trumps,  and 
no  honour,  truni])  an  uncertain  card.'  With  a  king 
and  one,  or  tlie  queen  and  two  small  trumps  also,  it  is 
clcaily  wrong  to  lnnii|)  ;iii  uncertain  card,  as  it  also  ia 


WIIIST    AND    WIIIST-PLAYERS.  409 

when  trumps  have  been  played,  and  you  have  the  best 
or  last  trum[)  h.'ft,  with  a  losing  card  to  throw  away. 
If  you  are  weak  in  trumps,  or  yoiu'  partner  has  led 
trumps,  trump  a  card  wliich  he  would  otherwise  be 
obliged  to  trump ;  especially  a  thirteenth  card  when 
you  are  second  hand,  thereby  compelling  the  third 
hand  to  trump.  Whether,  when  third  hand,  you  shcjuld 
trump  a  thirteenth  card,  must  be  decided  by  circum- 
stances. 

When  your  partner  (obviously  leading  from  ace, 
queen,  knave)  leads  ace  and  queen,  it  is  generally  best 
not  to  trump  his  queen,  although  the  king  is  evidently  in 
the  fourth  hand  ;  for  then  his  suit  is  cleared.  The  pecu- 
har  object  of  dread  to  Lever  was  '  that  confounded  last 
trump  in  one's  partner's  hand  : '  he  having  had  his  own 
long  suit  repeatedly  cut  short  by  it.  There  are  occa- 
sions also  when  it  is  advisable  to  give  a  trick  with  the 
view  of  getting  led  up  to,  but  Mr.  Clay  says  :  '  Do  not 
give  away  a  certain  trick  by  refusing  to  ruff,  or  other- 
wise, unless  you  see  a  fair  chance  of  making  two  by 
your  forbearance.'  Young  players  should  be  especially 
cautioned  against  giving  aw^ay  sure  tricks.  They  some- 
times suffer  two  or  three  tricks  to  be  made  in  a  long 
suit  by  wdthholding  the  long  trump,  though  they  have 
nothing  else  to  do  w^th  it.  • 

On  the  other  hand,  eagerness  to  trump  with  strength 
in  trumps  shows  ignorance  or  defiance  of  all  sound 
principle  ;  for  you  weaken  yourself,  and  you  deceive 
your  partner,  besides  depriving  him  of  the  advantage 
of  his  position  as  fourth  player,  wuth  possibly  a  com- 
manding tenace.  If  a  good  })layer  trumps  a  doubtful 
card,  the  inference  is  that  he  is  weak  in  trumps  :  if  he 
refuses,  that  he  has  four  at  least,  or  a  guarded  honour : 
if  he  refuses  U)  trump  a  known  winning  card,  take  it 
for  granted  that  he  is  strong,  and  at  the  very  first  op- 
portunity lead  a  trump.  It  is  not  unusual  for  mode- 
rate players,  when  their  ace  of  trumps  is  a  singleton, 


410  WHIST   AND   WHIST-PLAYERS. 

to  lead  it  nt  once ;  the  partner  infers  that  it  is  a 
singleton,  and  has  the  option  of  resuming  the  lead  and 
dra'wins  two  for  one.  This  lead  cannot,  hke  a  lead 
from  another  singleton,  mislead  or  entrap  the  partner. 
Jiut  it  prematurely  exposes  the  hand,  and  may  clear 
the  suit  for  an  adversary.  By  leading  a  singleton  ace 
in  a  plain  suit,  besides  inviting  a  force,  you  give  up  the 
chance  of  catching  an  adversary's  honour,  and  the  only 
contingency  against  you  (an  improbable  one)  is  your 
partner  leading  the  king.  The  lead  of  a  singleton 
king  is  wrong,  except  in  trumps  when  your  partner 
has  turned  up  an  ace.  Always  consider  before  leading 
what  inference  your  partner  will  be  entitled  to  draw 
from  your  lead,  and  what  effect  it  may  have  upon  his 
hand,  as  by  sacrificing  one  of  his  best  cards  without 
benefiting  you. 

The  play  of  the  second  hand  is  more  easily  reducible 
to  rule  than  that  of  the  first.  The  cases  of  most  frequent 
appHcation  are  detailed  in  the  books.     JMr.  Clay  says : 

*  Playing  high  cards,  when  second  to  play,  unless  your 
suit  is  headed  by  two  or  more  high  cards  of  equal  value,  or 
unless  to  cover  a  high  card,  is  to  be  carefully  avoided. 

'  With  two  or  three  cards  of  the  suit  played,  cover  a  high 
card.     Play  a  king,  or  a  queen,  on  a  knave,  or  ten,  &c. 

'  With  four  cards,  or  more,  of  the  suit  played,  do  not 
cover,  unless  the  second  best  of  your  suit  is  also  a  valuable 
card.  Thus  with  a  king  or  queen,  and  three  or  more  small 
cards,  do  not  cover  a  high  card ;  but  if,  along  with  your 
king  or  queen,  you  liold  the  ten,  or  even  a  nine,  cover  a 
queen  or  a  knave. 

'  With  king  and  another,  not  being  ti-umps,  do  not  play 
your  king,  unless  to  cover  a  high  card. 

'  With  king  and  another,  being  trumps,  play  your  king.' 

The  reason  he  gives  for  this  distinction  is,  that  the 
ace  is  not  generally  led  from  except  in  trumps,  but  this 
is  only  true  of  the  liiglier  order  of  players,  who  see  the 
value  of  an  ace  as  a  card  of  re-entry. 


WHIST    AND    WHIST-PLAYERS,  411 

'  With  queen  aiitl  another,'  he  continues,  '  whether 
trumps  or  not,  play  your  small  card,  luiless  to  cover.' 
Despite  of  this  recognised  maxim,  many  respertal)le 
players  are  constantly  trying  to  snatch  a  trick  witli  the 
queen,  and  exidt  in  their  occasional  success ;  forgetting 
that  the  maxim  is  based  on  a  careful  calculation  of  tlie 
chances,  and  that  the  conventional  laui:juao;e  is  confused 
by  contravening  it. 

With  knave,  ten,  or  nine,  and  one  small  card,  play 
the  small  card,  unless  to  cover.  With  king,  queen, 
and  one  or  more  small  cards,  play  the  queen,  except 
in  trumps,  when  circumstances  may  justify  you  in 
giving  your  partner  a  chance  of  making  the  trick. 
With  queen,  knave,  and  one  other,  the  knave :  with 
more  than  one  other,  the  smallest.  The  rationale  of 
the  general  rule,  to  play  your  lowest  card  second,  is 
given  by  Cavendish : 

*  You  presume  that  the  first  hand  has  led  from  strength, 
and  if  you  have  a  high  card  in  his  suit,  you  lie  over  him 
when  it  is  led  again ;  whereas,  if  you  play  your  high  card 
second  hand,  you  get  rid  of  a  commanding  card  of  the 
adversary's  suit,  and  when  it  is  returned,  the  original  leader 
finesses  against  you.  Besides  this,  the  third  player  will  put 
on  his  highest  card,  and,  if  it  is  better  than  yours,  you  have 
wasted  power  to  no  purpose.'  ♦ 

In  the  first  lead,  therefore,  if  you  have  ace  and 
queen,  with  strength  in  trumps,  you  play  a  small  card 
second  hand,  and  wait  for  the  return,  the  chances  being 
that  the  lead  is  from  the  king.  If  you  have  five  in 
the  suit,  and  are  weak  in  trumps,  it  may  be  advisable 
to  play  the  queen.  If  the  lead  is  a  knave,  or  any 
other  card  indicating  weakness,  put  on  the  ace.  Put- 
ting the  queen  (when  you  have  ace,  queen)  on  the 
knave  (a  common  and  tempting  practice)  is  simply  sacri- 
ficing her  if  the  king  is  witli  the  tliird  player,  and 
uselessly  giving  up  your  command  over  the  first  if  the 


412  WHIST   AND   WHIST-PLAYEES. 

king  is  with  the  fourth  (your  partner).  The  king 
must  be  behind  you.  The  lead  of  ten  or  nine  may 
be  eitlier  from  weakness  or  strength ;  and  {^\\i\\  ace, 
queen)  you  must  be  guided  by  circumstances,  by  the 
usual  play  of  your  adversary,  by  the  state  of  your  own 
hand,  or  (if  the  lead  is  not  the  first)  by  such  indications 
as  may  have  occurred. 

With  ace,  queen,  ten,  play  the  queen.  With  ace, 
queen,  knave,  or  with  ace,  queen,  knave,  ten,  &c.,  the 
lowest  of  the  sequence.  With  ace,  king,  knave,  the 
king :  then  (in  tnunps,  or  if  strong  in  trumps)  wait  for 
the  chance  of  finessing  or  of  catching  the  queen.  In 
trumps  with  ace,  king,  knave,  and  a  small  card,  it 
may  be  advisable  to  play  the  small  card  second 
hand ;  thereby  securing  the  command  on  the  return 
of  the  trump.  With  ace,  king,  and  others  in  plain 
suits,  the  king  :  in  trumps  the  lowest,  unless  you  wish 
to  stop  the  lead  and  give  your  partner  a  ruff.  It  is 
peremptorily  laid  down  by  Mr.  Clay :  '  Play  an  ace  on 
a  knave.'  But  surely  this  cannot  be  always  right,  for 
it  gives  up  the  conmiaud  at  once,  and  fulfils  the  precise 
purpose  of  tlie  leader,  which  is  presumably  to  clear  the 
way  for  liis  partner.  With  ace  and  four  small  ones, 
some  put  on  the  ace  second  hand  for  the  same  reason 
wliich  induces  tliem  to  lead  it  with  the  same  number 
of  the  suit.  But  the  cases  are  essentially  distinct ;  for 
^-^y  P^ayii'g  the  ace  second  hand,  you  knowingly  give 
up  the  advantage  of  lying  over  the  leader  in  his  strong 
suit. 

.The  play  of  llie  third  hand  involves  the  theory  of 
the  Finesse,  on  which  M.  Deschapelles  has  left  a  frag- 
ment which  makes  us  regret  the  want  of  ]iis  great  work 
as  we  regret  tiie  lost  books  of  Livy  or  the  unreported 
speeches  of  Bolingbroke. 

'  In  tlio  hijrli  curds,'  he  says,  '  the  simple  finesse  is  almost 
median icul:  uol^ody   fails  tu  practise  it.     Tht-re  are,  how- 


WHIST   AND    WIIIST-l'LAYERS.  413 

ever,  many  cases  wliicli  do  not  allow  of  it.  We  should 
habituate  ourselves  to  keep  tlie  or^^an  of  attention  con- 
stantly on  the  qui  vive,  so  as  only  to  do  by  choice,  and  after 
balancing  the  advantages,  the  things  which  seem  to  belong 
to  routine.  A  moment  of  distraction  or  forgetful n ess,  and 
you  haply  fall  into  a  fault  whicli  will  ruin  your  reputation. 
I  have  seen  skilful  players  finesse  in  a  trick  which  would 
have  given  them  the  game,  and  others  commit  tlie  same 
blunder  in  the  last  trick  but  one,  with  a  trump  in.  Cen- 
sure has  no  mercy  for  them  :  its  thousand  sharp  and  quick 
tongues  are  multiplied  to  defame  you :  you  cannot  appear 
anywhere  for  a  week  without  running  the  gauntlet  of  an 
exaggerated  recital  and  a  mortifying  inquiry.' 

Nor  is  the  punishment  one  whit  too  severe.  In  whist 
clubs  or  cii-cles,  a  list  of  the  grossest  ofTeiiders  sliould 
be  hung  up  for  a  week,  hke  the  list  of  offenders  against 
pubhc  decency  in  the  parks,  or  of  tlie  defaulters  or 
lame  ducks  on  the  Stock  Exchange.  We  do  not  mean 
sucli  offences  as  forgetting  or  mistaking  a  card,  but 
such  as  forcing  a  partner  who  has  led  trumps  or  refused 
to  trump,  or  finessing  in  the  trick  by  which  the  game 
might  be  saved  or  won,  such,  in  short,  as  the  com- 
monest discretion  and  the  merest  modicum  of  good 
sense  would  obviate.  Habitual  carelessness  also  merits 
severe  reprehension,  such  as  playing  a  higlier  card 
instead  of  a  lower,  even  a  five  instead  of  a  four,  or  vfce 
versa,  contrary  to  the  fixed  rules  of  the  game.  Tlie 
last  phiyer,  not  being  able  to  win  tlie  seven,  plays  the 
six  :  his  partner  takes  for  granted  tliat  he  luis  no  more, 
refrains  from  a  meditated  lead  of  trumps,  plays  for  a 
ruff,  and  finds  him  witli  a  five !  In  a  trump  lead,  the 
third  player  with  ace,  six,  four,  three,  wins  with  the 
ace,  returns  the  four,  and  afterwards  plays  the  three. 
His  partner,  taking  it  for  granted  that  he  has  ])layed 
the  best  of  two  remaining  cards,  and  tliat  llie  rciiKiiii- 
ing  trump,  the  six,  is  in  an  adversary's  hand,  ch-aws  it, 
and  haply  loses  the  game.  If  he  liad  returned  the 
three  and  afterwards  played  the  i'oiiv,  his  partner  would 


414  WHIST    AND    WIIIST-PLAYERS. 

luive  known  to  a  certainty  that  the  remaining  trump 
was  in  his  hand. 

To  the  same  category  belongs  the  phiying  false  cards. 
'  I  hold  in  abhorrence  the  playing  false  cards,'  is  the 
emphatic  denunciation  of  Mr.  Clay.  With  exceptions, 
which  he  admits,  we  completely  go  along  with  him  ; 
and  the  practice  may  fairly  be  called  un-Eughsh  ;  for 
(he  states)  '  French  players  are  dangerously  addicted 
to  false  cards,  and  the  Americans  rarely  play  the  right 
card  if  they  have  one  to  play  which  is  likely  to  deceive 
everybody.  They  play  for  their  own  hands  alone — 
the  worst  fault  I  know  in  a  whist-player.'  He  puts  the 
case  of  your  partner  winning  with  the  highest  instead 
of  the  lowest,  as  with  the  ace  instead  of  the  king, 
whence  you  assume  that  the  king  is  against  you,  and 
find  the  whole  scheme  of  your  game  destroyed.  But 
take  the  every-day  case — with  the  king  led  presumably 
from  ace  and  king — of  dropping  the  queen  instead  of 
the  knave  not  as  a  call  for  trumps  (for  which  it  may 
be  mistaken),  but  in  the  hope  of  stopping  the  suit. 
The  suit  is  stopped,  but  your  partner  may  be  mis- 
chievously deceived  ;  for  on  your  having  or  not  having 
the  knave,  depends  the  entire  quality  of  your  hand 
and  the  course  of  combined  action  he  should  pursue. 
False  cards,  therefore,  should  never  be  played  unless  at 
a  period  of  the  game  when  your  partner  is  practically 
hors  de  combat^  or  when  he  is  incapable  cf  drawing 
the  ordinary  inferences  which  will  be  drawn  by  your 
adversaries.  '  Why  did  you  play  that  card  ? '  was  the 
question  incautiously  put  to  a  good  player  by  an  as- 
tonished bystander.  '  For  the  very  sufficient  reason,' 
was  the  answer  in  a  loud  stage  whisper,  '  that  my 
partner  is  a  mw//!' 

Habitual  hesitation,  also,  is  a  very  grave  fault.  It 
is  by  turns  unfair  as  enliglitening  your  partner  and  in- 
discreet as  giving  hints  to  your  adversaries.  Indicating 
the  quahty  of^  the  hand  in  any  manner,  by  word  or 


WHIST   AND   WIIIST-PLAYERS.  415 

gesture,  should  be  suppressed  l)y  penally  ;  and  (as  was 
tlie  law  under  Iloyle's  rules)  any  player  who  says  lie 
has  the  game  in  his  hands,  sliould  lay  his  cards  on  the 
table  and  submit  to  have  them  called,  for  otherwise 
an  unfair  advantage  is  obtained ;  all  hability  to  a  mis- 
take in  placing  them  being  thereby  avoided  ;  and  the 
practice  should  be  discountenanced  as  wasting  instead 
of  saving  both  time  and  temper  by  the  discussion  it 
creates.  Like  Mi^s.  Battle,  we  are  decidedly  for  '  a  clear 
fire,  a  clean  hearth,  and  the  rigour  of  the  game.'  ^ 
Unless  the  laws  are  regularly  enforced,  any  occasional 
enforcement  of  them  is  open  to  the  imputation  of  an 
unfair  advantage  ;  so  that  uniform  strictness  is  most 
ftwourable  to  a  orood  understandinsj. 

A  moment's  pause  before  the  opening — and  no  good 
player  \vill  need  more — for  the  formation  of  a  plan  is 
not  to  be  confounded  with  hesitation.  '  This  moment,' 
observes  M.  Deschapelles, '  will  be  amply  compensated  : 
it  will  save  ten  :  for  the  cards  will  flow  rapidly  as  con- 
sequences :  yoiur  adversaries  will  be  unable  to  draw 
inferences  ;  and  your  partner,  catching  confidence  from 
your  self-possession,  will  become  charged  \v'ith  the 
electric  spark  which  fuses  the  moi  into  the  intelligent 
and  co-operating  nous.'' 

But  we  are  di^ressino;  and  must  return  to  the  finesi^, 
which  depends  so  much  on  inference  and  the  state  of 
the  score,  that  few  general  maxims  can  be  laid  down. 
Imprimis,  the  only  finesse  permissible  in  your  partner's 
first  lead  is  from  ace  and  queen.  If  the  queen  wins, 
innnediately  return  the  ace  in  trumps,  and  also  in  j)lain 
suits,  unless  there  are  symptoms  of  trumping.  In  that 
case  play  trumps,  if  you  are  strong  enough  ;  otherwise 
change  the  suit,  and  wait  to  see  what  your  partner  will 

^  Elia.  First  Series. — Hailitt,  although,  like  a  certain  dignified 
ornament  of  the  church,  constantly  in  hot  water,  was  not  equally  re- 
markable for  clean  hands.  Elia  (Charles  Lamb),  playing  whist  with 
him,  drily  observed,  'If  dirt  was  trumps,  what  himds  you  would  hold!' 


41 G  WHIST   AND   WHIST-PLATERS. 

do  ;  or  if  you  have  a  good  trump,  tlioiigh  weak,  play  it 
to  strengthen  him.  A  good  player  ^\^ll,  of  course, 
finesse  more  frequently  and  more  deeply  in  trumps 
than  in  plain  suits,  because  he  is  generally  sure  of 
making  the  reserved  card,  and  of  making  it  at  the  most 
favourable  moment.  Thus,  if  with  ace,  king,  knave,  he 
finesses  the  knave  and  loses  it,  he  is  still  in  a  better 
position  than  if  he  had  played  his  king  and  left  the 
queen  guarded  and  held  up  behind  him.  With  ace, 
knave,  ten,  or  king,  knave,  ten  (in  trumps),  the  ten 
may  be  finessed  if  two  immediate  rounds  are  not  re- 
quii'ed.  When  weak  in  trumps,  finesse  deeply  in  the 
suit  in  which  your  partner  is  weak.  This,  though 
contrary  to  the  general  practice,  is  strongly  recom- 
mended by  Mr.  Clay,  as  it  saves  your  partner  from 
being  forced.  The  finesse  of  knave  firom  king  knave, 
cannot  be  recommended  unless  your  partner  has  ob- 
viously led  from  weakness.  Your  partner  wins  with 
the  queen  and  returns  the  lead  with  a  small  card  :  •s\'ith 
king,  ten,  finesse  the  ten,  for  the  ace  is  certainly  held 
over  you,  and  if  the  knave  is  in  the  same  hand,  you 
must  lose  both  any  way.  This  is  an  instance  of  what 
is  called  the  finesse  obligatory. 

The  chief  difficulty  of  the  Fourth  Hand  is  in  discrimi- 
nating the  rare  instances  in  which  the  trick  should  not 
be  taken.  You  have  three  cards  left :  ace,  knave,  and 
a  small  one  ;  your  adversary  with  king,  queen,  ten, 
leads  the  king.  If  you  take  the  king,  you  \\an  one 
trick  :  if  you  allow  it  to  make,  you  win  two.  There 
are  also  occasions  when  you  give  the  trick  in  order  to 
compel  the  adversary  to  lead  up  to  you  in  another  suit. 
A  common  ruf<e  (which  Mr.  Clay  strongly  condemns) 
is  to  liuld  up  tlie  ace  when  you  have  ace  and  knave 
;iii(l  tlie  adversaiy  lias  led  tlie  king  from  king  and 
queen.  This  is  daiig(!rous  out  of  trumps,  unless  you 
are  very  strong  in  trumps  and  want  to  establish  the 
suit,   and  then  your  partner  may  trump  the  second 


WHTST    AND    WIIIST-PLAYERS.  417 

round  and  be  carried  off  on  a  wrong  scent.     In  trumps, 
the  opportunity  can  rarely  arise  with  good  players. 
An  ace  may  sometimes  be  kept  back  with  telling  effect, 
not  only  in  trumps,  but  with  ace  and  four  small  cards 
in  a  plain  suit ;  the  trumps  being  out  or  with  3'OU,  and 
three  tricks  required  to  win  or  save  tlie  game.     If  no 
other  player  has  more  than  three,  and  the  ace  is  kept 
back  till  the  third  round,  the  three  tricks  are  secured. 
But  an  inexperienced  player  cannot  be  recommended 
to  risk  a  stroke  of  this  kind  ;  neither  should  we  recom- 
mend him  to  resort  to  underplay^   until  he  has  ad- 
vanced far  enough  to  be  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of 
the   grand  coup}     Play  the  plain,  unpretending,  un- 
ambitious game  till  the  higher  and  finer  class  of  com- 
binations break  upon  you.     On  the  other  hand,  don't 
shun  any  amount  of  justifiable  risk.     If,  looking  to 
the  score  and  the  number  of  tricks  on  the  table,  a 
desperate  measure  is  called  for,  risk  it ;  if  great  strength 
in  trumps  in  your  partner's  hand  is  required  to  save  the 
game,  play  your  best  trump,  however  weak  in  trumps. 
All  ordinary  rules  must  be  set  aside  in  this  emergency  : 
every  available  force  must  be  instantly  called  into  tlie 
field.     Here  is  the  crisis  in  which  you  must  lead  the 
king  with  only  one  small  one  in  his  train :  as  at  Fon- 
tenoy  and  Steinkirk,  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  for  tiie 
maison   du   roi   to    charge.     There   are   moments  in 
whist  when  a  coup  cVceil  is  wanted  hke  that  of  tlie 
dying  Marmion : 

Let  Stanley  charge  with  spur  of  fire, 
With  Chester  charge  aud  Lancashire, 
Full  upon  Scotland's  central  host, 
Or  victory  and  England's  lost. 

^  The  graiid  amp  is  getting  rid  of  a  superfluous  trump  which  may 
compel  you  to  win  a  trick  and  take  the  lead  when  you  do  not  want  it. 
It  was  the  master-stroke,  the  coiip  de  Jarnac,  of  Descliapelles.  I'lukr- 
play  is  when,  retaining  the  best  of  a  suit,  you  play  a  small  one  in  the 
hope  that  your  left-hand  adversary  will  hold  up  the  second  best  aud 
allow  your  partner  to  make  the  trick  wiih  a  lower  card. 

VOL.    L  E  E 


'418  WIIIST    AND    \YIIIST-rLAYERS. 

One  of  the  chosen  few  being  asked  what  he  deemed 
tlie  distinctive  excellence  of  a  fine  player,  replied, 
'playing  to  the  point.'  Such  a  player  plays  almost 
every  hand  differently  without  once  departing  from  the 
conventional  language  of  the  game.  It  is  an  excellence 
rarely  attained  or  appreciated ;  and  the  great  majority 
of  players  play  on  just  the  same  whatever  the  state  of 
the  score  or  the  number  of  tricks  already  made  on 
either  side.  They  not  only  run  risks  to  secure  three 
tricks  when  they  only  want  one  :  we  have  seen  a 
gentleman  playing  for  the  odd  trick  with  six  tricks 
made  against  him,  deliberately  give  away  the  seventh 
by  dechning  to  trump  for  fear  of  being  over-trumped ! 
We  have  seen  another  take  out  the  card  tliat  would 
have  won  the  game,  look  at  it,  fumble  with  it,  and 
then  put  it  back  again. 

Nelson  told  his  captains  at  Trafalgar,  that  any  one 
of  them  who  did  not  see  his  way  clearly,  could  not  go 
far  wrong  if  he  laid  his  ship  alongside  a  sliip  of  the 
enemy.  No  whist-player  can  go  far  wrong  who  wins 
a  trick  when  the  game  is  growing  critical.  We  do  not 
say  with  Hoyle  :  '  Whenever  you  are  in  doubt,  win 
the  trick ; '  for  we  have  heard  puzzle-headed  people 
appeal  to  this  maxim  after  trumping  the  leading  card 
of  their  partner's  long  suit,  or  trumping  a  doubtful  card 
with  the  last  or  best  trump,  or  with  the  solitary  guard 
to  a  king,  or  with  one  of  four  trumps  which  constituted 
their  strength.  But  we  say :  when  you  are  in  doubt 
with  the  adverse  pack  of  tricks  dangero.isly  mounting 
up,  win  the  trick.  Hesitation  witliout  knowledge  makes 
es  matters  worse.  Instead  of  snatching  a  grace  beyond 
the  reach  of  art,  the  hesitating  player  commonly  com- 
mits a  blunder  beyond  the  reach  of  speculation,  and 
tempts  one  to  exclaim  with  Johnson,  'You  must  have 
taken  great  pains  with  yourself,  sir  :  you  coidd  not 
naturally  have  been  so  very  stupid.' 

Few  readers  can  have  forgotten  the  bitter  comment 


WHIST    AXD    WlIIST-l'LAYERS.  419 

of  Easselas  after  Imlac  had  enumerated  the  quahties 
needed  to  excel  in  poetry  :  '  Enough,  thou  hast 
convinced  me  that  no  human  beinii;  can  ever  be  a 
poet.'  An  enumeration  of  the  quahties  needed  to 
shine  in  whist  miglit  provoke  a  similar  retort.  In  the 
famous  passage  which  Mr.  DisraeU  borrowed  of 
M.  Thiers,  describing  the  quidilications  and  re- 
sponsibihties  of  a  great  commander,  we  find  :  'At  the 
same  moment,  he  must  tliink  of  tlie  eve  and  the 
morrow — of  his  flanks  and  his  reserve ;  he  must 
calculate  at  the  same  time  the  state  of  the  weather  and 
the  moral  qualities  of  his  men.  .  .  .  Not  only  must  he 
think — he  must  think  mth  the  rapidity  of  lightning ; 
for  on  a  moment  more  or  less  depends  the  fate  of  the 
finest  combinations,  and  on  a  moment  more  or  less 
depends  the  glory  or  the  shame.  Doubtless  all  this 
may  be  done  in  an  ordinary  manner  by  an  ordinary 
man ;  as  we  see  every  day  of  our  lives  ordinary  men 
making  successful  ministers  of  state,  successful  speakers, 
successful  authors.  But  to  do  all  this  with  genius  is 
sublime.' 

Something  very  similar  might  be  said  of  a  great 
whist-player, — indeed  has  been  said  by  M.  Descha- 
pelles^  who  was  himself  the  great  sublime  he 
drew.  He  must  watch  and  draw  inferences  from  thi^ 
hands  besides  his  own  :  he  must  play  twenty-six  cards 
instead  of  thirteen :  he  must  follow  the  shifting 
condition  of  fom'  suits  :  he  must  calculate  at  the  same 
time  each  phase  of  the  game,  and  the  moral  and 
mental  qualities  of  the  players.     Are  they  strong  or 


^  Deschapelles,  late  in  life,  became  a  republican,  and  was  supposed  to 
have  been  mixed  up  in  some  of  the  attempts  at  revolution  in  the  earlier 
days  of  Louis  Philippe.  Ilis  papers  were  seized,  and  it  was  found  that 
he  had  drawn  up  a  list  of  persons  in  society  to  be  made  sliort  work 
of,  with  the  reasons  for  their  elimination  from  this  world.  Amonjjrst 
them  was  an  elderly  acquaintance  whose  name  was  set  down  thus : 
'  Vatry  (Alphie)  ;  to  be  guUhjtined : — Reason  ; — Cituyen  iniUilc'  \'atry 
was  a  bad  whist-player, 

£  £  2 


420  AVIII.'^T    AXD    AVIIIST-PLAYERS. 

weak,  bold  or  cautious,  frank  or  tricky  aud  given  to 
false  cards?  He  must  tliink  with  intuitive  rapidity 
and  sagacity.  If  he  miscalculates,  or  loses  the  key  to 
a  single  combination,  he  is  lost.  We  see  ordinary  men 
making  tolerably  good  whist-players,  but  the  iine 
whist-player  is  as  rare  as  the  great  commander  ;  and 
to  the  beau  ideal  one  might  be  applied  what  the 
Irishman  predicated  of  a  finished  Lish  gentleman — that 
there  would  be  nothing  like  him  in  the  world,  if  you 
could  but  meet  with  him. 

Not  only  did  we  never  meet  with  or  hear  of  a 
whist-player  who  could  venture  to  boast  with  Turenne 
that  he  never  fought  a  battle  that  he  did  not  deserve 
to  win  ;  but  we  have  heard  an  excellent  one  adopt  the 
aphorism,  attributed  to  the  Iron  Duke,  that  a  battle 
was  a  game  in  which  those  that  made  the  fewest 
blunders  won.  Or  a  parallel  may  be  drawn  between 
the  paladin  of  the  whist  table,  and  the  damsel  in  the 
play  who  took  her  •  married  sister's  fault  upon  her- 
self, and  is  thus  apostrophised  by  her  brother-in-law, 
'  Quoi !  vous,  Marie,  vous,  la  Vertu  meme ! '  Her  reply 
is  exquisite  for  feminine  self-knowledge  and  tact : 
'  Oh !  la  Vertu,  la  Vertu !  tout  le  monde  a  ses  heures 
ou  ses  moments.'  The  most  consummate  skill,  like 
Virtue  herself,  is  not  safe  against  a  slip.  Did  not  the 
late  Earl  Granville  lose  a  rubber,  after  giving  the  long 
odds  in  thousands,  by  forgetting  the  seven  of  hearts? 
Did  not  Henry  Lord  de  Eos  lose  one  on  which  three 
thousands  pouuds  was  staked,  by  miscounting  a  trump  ? 
Did  not,  only  the  other  day,  the  Daniel  or  Gamaliel  of 
the  Turf  Club  fail  to  detect  a  palpable  revoke,  to  the 
astonishment  and  (it  must  be  owned)  gratification  of 
the  bystanders,  some  of  wlumi  went  home  consoled 
and  elevated  in  their  own  self-esteem  by  his  default? 

Ijiit  let  no  one  hurry  to  the  conclusion  that  skill  is 
of  minor  iinjjortance  because  it  is  sometimes  found 
tripping,  or  because  the  fine  })layer  may  be  often  seen 


WITTST    AXD    WinST-rLAYERS.  421 

vainly  struggling  against  cards,  when,  like  the  good 
man  struggling  against  adversity,  he  is  a  spectacle  for 
the  gods.  '  Human  life,'  writes  Jeremy  Taylor,  '  is  like 
playing  at  tables  :  the  luck  is  not  in  our  power ;  but 
the  playing  the  game  is.'  For  '  tables,'  read  whist. 
Independently  of  the  intellectual  gratification,  skill 
will  prove  an  ample  remuneration  in  the  long  run  for 
the  pains  bestowed  in  acquiring  it.  If  only  one  trick  per 
hand  were  won  or  lost  by  play,  the  per-centage  would 
be  immense ;  but  two  or  three  tricks  per  hand  are 
frequently  so  won  or  lost.  Three  or  four  times  over 
in  a  single  sitting  have  we  seen  bad  players  score  three 
or  four  with  hands  which,  held  by  good,  Avould  in- 
fallibly have  made  the  game.  With  tolerably  equal 
cards,  play  must  turn  the  balance :  with  fortune  pro, 
it  indefinitely  increases  the  gain  :  with  fortune  con,  it 
indefinitely  diminishes  the  loss.  It  must  have  been 
the  effect  of  irritability  after  losing  to  bunglers  that 
made  high  authorities  deny  so  obvious  a  truth.  We 
are  quite  sure  that  in  their  cooler  moments  they  would 
agree  with  us. 

A  curious  piece  of  evidence  bearing  on  this  subject 
was  given  at  the  De  Eos  trial  by  a  distinguished  whist- 
player,  who  stated  that  he  had  played  regularly 
about  the  same  stakes  during  twenty  years  ;  that 
winnings  had  averaged  1,500/.  a  year,  making  30,000/, 
in  the  aggregate,  but  that  he  had  undergone  two  con- 
secutive years  of  ill  luck,  during  which  he  lost  8,000/. 
Another  witness,  a  captain  in  the  navy,  who  had 
realised  a  regular  income  by  his  skill,  was  asked 
whether  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  dining  on  boiled 
chicken  and  lemonade  when  he  had  serious  work  in 
hand ;  and  the  alleged  training  (which  he  denied)  was 
no  imputation  on  his  sagacity.  No  man  flushed  with 
food  or  wine,  vinoque  ciboque  gravaius,  will  play  his 
best ;  and  every  man  who   regards    his  purse    or   liis 


422  wnisT  AXD  wiiist-players. 

reputation  slioukl  leave  off  when  he  finds  the  sensation 
of  confusion  or  fatigue  stealing  on  him. 

Although  many  of  the  best  players  play  high,  the 
highest  players  are  by  no  means  uniformly  the  best. 
It  was  stated  from  melancholy  experience  by 
De  Quincy,  that  opium-eating  in  the  earlier  stages 
produces  none  of  the  beneficial  or  pleasurable  effects  : 
not  till  it  has  grown  into  a  habit,  does  the  inspiring  or 
soothing  iuiluence  begin.  It  is  the  same  with  high 
play,  which  unduly  excites  and  agitates  for  a  season ; 
although,  if  the  purse  and  constitution  hold  out,  it  has 
been  known  to  sharpen  the  observation  and  concentrate 
the  attention  to  the  utmost  point  which  the  player's 
natural  capabilities  enable  him  to  reach.  But  this 
turning  a  relaxation  and  a  pleasure  into  a  business  and  a 
toil  is  to  be  deprecated,  not  recommended ;  and  a  wise 
man  (pecuniary  considerations  apart)  would  rather  give 
up  whist  altogether  than  be  compelled  to  play  it  under 
the  imphed  condition  that  he  was  to  keep  his  mind 
eternally  upon  the  strain.  It  was  this  consideration 
possibly  that  drove  Charles  James  Fox  to  hazard,  al- 
though he  boasted  that  he  could  gain  4,000/.  a  year  at 
wliist,  if  he  chose  to  set  about  it.  Major  Aubrey, 
who  had  tried  both,  declared  that  the  greatest  pleasure 
in  life  was  winning  at  whist, — the  next  greatest  pleasure, 
losing. 

Women,  particularly  young  women,  should  never 
play  for  sums  which  it  is  inconvenient  for  them  to  lose  ; 
and  a  sum  which  is  immaterial  to  a  man  of  independent 
means  may  create  an  alarming  deficit  in  a  female  budget 
dependent  on  an  allowance  or  piii-moncy.  'J'he  femi- 
nine organisation  is  opposed  to  their  ever  getting  beyond 
the  excitable  perturbed  fluttered  stage:  their  hands 
may  be  read  in  their  faces  :  they  play  recklessly  to 
shorten  the  tonncnt  of  suspense  ;  and  it  is  fortunate  if, 
along  with  their  money,  tlicy  do  not  lose  both  their 
teni[)(n'  and  their  good  looks: 


WHIST   AND    WHIST- PLAYERS.  423 

And  one  degrading-  hour  of  sordid  fear, 
'Stamp  in  a  night  the  wrinkles  of  a  year. 

The  charge  of  comparative  disregard  of  truth  wliich 
the  male  sex,  with  or  without  reason,  are  wont  to  l)ring 
against  the  female  sex,  derives  plausibility  from  au 
effect  stated  by  Byron  : 

The  pretty  creatures  fib  with  such  a  grace, 
There's  nothing  so  becoming  to  the  face. 

Upon  this  principle  they  should  certainly  avoid  high 
play  at  any  game,  for  there  is  nothing  so  ?6?ibecoming 
to  the  face.  Hogarth's  print  of  '  The  Lady's  Lost  Stake  ' 
suggests  another  danger,  which  is  also  hinted  at  in 
'  The  Provoked  Husband  ': 

'  Lord  Toivnley  :  'Tis  not  your  ill  hours  that  always  dis- 
turb me,  but  as  often  tlie  ill  company  that  occasion  these 
hours. 

'  Lady  Townley :  Sure,  I  don't  understand  you  now,  my 
lord.     What  ill  company  do  I  keep  ? 

'  Lord  Toiunley :  Why,  at  best,  women  that  lose  tlieir 
money,  and  men  that  win  it ;  or  perhaps  men  tliat  are 
voluntary  bubbles  at  one  game  in  liopes  a  lady  will  give 
them  fair  play  at  another.' 

When  whist  is  merely  taken  up  as  one  ot  the  weapons 
of  coquetry,  there  is  no  great  mischief  to  be  a]ipre- 
hended ;  although  ecarte  or  chess  would  seem  more 
suited  t0  the  purpose,  and  give  better  hope  of  a  situa- 
tion like  that  of  Ferdinand  and  Miranda.  '  Sweet  lord, 
you  play  me  false,'  is  ill  replaced  by  '  Sweet  lady,  you 
have  revoked.' 

Henri  Beyle  (Stendhal),  musing  over  an  interrupted 
liaison  and  a  lost  illusion,  exclaims  :  '  After  all,  her 
conduct  is  rational.  She  was  fond  of  whist.  She  is 
fond  of  it  no  longer  ;  so  much  tlie  worse  for  me  if  I 
am  still  fond  of  whist.'  So  much  the  better  for  liiin, 
as  he  had  still  an  inexhaustible  resource  ;  and  he  woukl 
have  gained  nothing  by  abandoning  it.     She  was  no 


424  WHIST    AND    WIITST-PLAYERS. 

longer  fond  of  whist,  because  slie  was  no  longer  fond 
of  him. 

It  is  a  common  fallacy,  mischievously  rife  among  the 
fair  sex,  that  without  the  gift  of  extraordinary  memory, 
it  is  impossible  to  become  a  good  whist-player  :  the 
fact  being  that  memory  has  little  or  nothing  to  do  with 
the  real  understanding  or  finest  points  of  the  game. 
What,  for  instance,  has  memory  to  do  with  the  opening 
lead,  which  has  the  same  relative  importance  that  Lord 
Lyndhurst  attributed  to  the  opening  speech  in  a  cause  ? 
What  has  memory  to  do  with  trumping  or  not  trumjnng 
a  doubtful  card  ;  or  with  returning  the  best  with  three 
or  the  lowest  with  four ;  or  with  returning  the  trump 
lead  immediately ;  or  with  answering  the  call  for 
trumps ;  or  with  taking  or  not  taking  the  trick  that 
wins  or  saves  the  game ;  or  with  numberless  emergen- 
cies in  which  you  have  only  to  look  at  your  hand,  the 
tricks  on  the  table,  and  the  score  ? 

Of  course,  a  certain  number  of  rules  and  maxims 
must  be  learnt ;  but  it  is  not  more  difficidt  to  learn 
these  than  to  learn  the  Catechism  ;  and  a  lady  might 
as  reasonably  complain  that  she  could  not  become  a 
good  Christian  for  want  of  memory,  as  that  she  could 
not  become  a  good  whist-player  by  reason  of  that  de- 
fect, which,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  is  purely  imagin- 
ary. People  remember  well  enough  wliat  they  care  to 
remember,  or  what  fixes  their  attention  by  interesting 
them.  This  depends  on  character,  habits,  and  powers 
of  ap]:)reciation.  Whilst  the  man  of  cultivated  taste 
and  line  sense  of  hmnour  is  laying  up  a  stock  of  choice 
anecdotes  and  fine  passages,  an  old  maid  in  a  country 
town  will  be  <»;ro\vintj  into  the  living'  chronicle  of  all 
the  scandalous  gossip  of  tlie  last  fifty  years,  complaining 
all  tlic  time  <A'  her  memory.  The  measures  are  the 
sjiine,  but  the  one  is  filled  with  pearls  of  price,  the 
otiuir  will)  glass  Ix-iids  and  knicknackery.  The  dis- 
criminating reminiscent,  instead  of  being   envied  for 


WIIIST    AND    WiriST-rLAYERS.  425 

memory,  sliould  be  commended  for  ohservation,  jud<^r- 
meut,  quickness  of  perception  and  apropos. 

Alleged  forgetfulness  at  whist,  as  in  most  other  things, 
is  far  more  frequent!}^  inattention  than  forgetfulness. 
The  fall  of  the  cards  has  not  been  watched,  and  the 
proper  inferences  have  not  been  drawn  at  the  moment. 
A  player  cannot  be  said  to  have  foi-gotten  what  he  never 
knew.  If,  for  example,  at  the  end  of  a  second  round, 
he  had  clearly  drawn  the  inference  that  the  best  card 
remained  with  one  adversary  and  tJiat  the  other  liad  no 
more  of  the  suit,  this  state  of  tilings  would  suggest 
itself  naturally  and  without  an  effort  when  the  suit  was 
played  again  : 

'With  care  (says  Mr.  Clay)  and  with  his  eyes  never 
wandering  from  the  table,  each  day  will  add  to  the  in- 
dications which  he  will  observe  and  understand.  He  will 
find  that  mere  memory  has  less  to  do  with  whist  than  he 
imagines,  that  it  matters  little  whether  the  five  or  the 
six  is  the  best  card  left  of  a  suit,  as  long  as  he  knows, 
which  he  generally  ought  to  know,  who  has  that  best  card. 
Memory  and  observation  will  become  mechanical  to  him, 
and  cost  him  little  eftbrt,  and  all  that  remains  for  him  to 
do  will  be  to  calculate  at  his  ease  the  best  way  of  playing 
his  own  and  his  partner's  hands,  in  many  cases  as  if  he  saw 
the  greater  portion  of  the  cards  laid  face  upwards  on  t]^ 
table.     He  will  then  be  a  fine  whist-player.' 

Without  being  a  fine  whist-player,  he  may  be  a 
capital  second-rate,  a  thoroughly  reliable  partner,  and 
one  with  whom  no  one  can  be  chssatisfied  to  sit  down. 
This  is  the  grand  point,  and  tliis  (we  repeat)  may  be 
attained  vdth  no  more  than  tlie  average  amoinit  of 
memory  with  whicli  men  and  women  manage  to  get  on 
creditably  through  fife.  One  of  the  best  London 
whist-players  is  below  the  average  in  this  particular. 
Nor  will  calling  him  so  appear  paradoxical  to  any  wlio 
accept  M.  Deschapelles'  division  : 

'  We  will  suppose  a  parabola  described   by  a  bombshell 


426  WHIST    AND    WHIST-PLAYERS. 

of  wliicli  the  culminating  point  sliall  be  the  seventh  trick. 
On  this  side,  it  is  invention  whicli  holds  sway  ;  on  the  other, 
it  is  calculation.  Attention  and  memory  are  at  the  base, 
whilst  sagacity,  seated  at  the  top,  distributes  the  work,  calls 
by  turns  on  the  organs  that  are  to  complete  it,  excites  and 
circumscribes  their  efforts,  and  assigns  them  at  the  appointed 
moment  the  repose  necessary  to  the  restoration  of  their 
streng-th.  .  .  When  there  are  no  more  than  five  or  six 
cards  remaining  in  the  hand,  the  fine  and  delicate  faculties 
of  intelligence  have  resigned  and  repose.  Mathematical 
calculation  is  at  the  helm  :  the  simplest  calculation  dis- 
enaao'ed  from  the  miknown.  Then  it  is  that  the  most 
commonplace  player  is  entitled  to  claim  equality  with  the 
finest ;  it  is  a  property  which  he  has  acquired  by  his  labour ; 
the  elements  of  it  are  open  to  all  the  world.  They  are 
beyond  the  domain  of  the  aristocracy  of  the  brain  and  the 
susceptibility  of  the  organs  :  beyond  that  of  poetry  and 
imagination ;  but  they  are  open  to  all,  like  the  right  to 
breathe  and  speak  good  prose !  .  .  .  .  With  regard  to 
sagacity,  how  do  you  know  that  you  are  wanting  in  it  ? 
Do  but  apply  your  mind  to  the  matter  in  hand,  age  quod 
agis,  and  you  will  see  that  you  have  as  much  as  another. 
I  can  give  as  proof  the  manner  in  which  people  lead  at 
present ;  even  at  oiu*  weakest  parties,  I  am  surprised  to  see 
that  it  is  almost  always  the  right  card  that  is  led.  This  is 
owing  to  our  grande  tactique,  with  which  every  one  is 
imbued.' 

Tliu  (jrande  tactiqne  is  the  strong  or  long-siiit  system  ; 
with  which,  we  regret  to  say,  every  one  is  not  imbued 
amongst  us,  or  we  should  not  so  frequently  hear, 
at  the  end  of  a  long,  puzzled,  and  unreflecting  pause, 
'  I  really  do  not  know  what  to  lead.'  The  lady  or 
gentleman  who  habitually  indulges  in  this  apostrophe, 
had  better  say  at  once,  '  I  really  do  not  know  how  to 
play.' 

Every  civilised  country  lias  had  its  Augustan  age  or 
ages.  We  have  liad  our  Ehzabethan  age,  our  age  of 
(iiioen  Anne,  nnd  wliat  was  also  an  Augustan  age 
tliough  yet   unnamed — the  age  when  liyron,   Moore, 


WHIST    AND    WIIIST-PLAYERS.  427 

Scott,  Wordswortli,  Coleridge,  Rogers,  Sydney  Smitli, 
Hallam,  Brougliam,  Cunning,  &c.,  were  tlie  central 
figures  of  the  group.  On  its  being  recently  remarked 
that  there  was  nothing  now  coming  on  to  replace  what 
must  be  soon  passing  away — that  almost  all  the  highest 
reputations  in  all  walks  are  of  full  twenty  years'  stand- 
ing or  more  :  that  w^e  have  no  rising  poets,  artists, 
novelists,  or  orators, — '  No  ! '  exclaimed  a  far-ftimed 
beauty  and  wit,  '  and  no  lady-killers  such  as  I  remem- 
ber in  my  heyday,  before  whom  one  felt  bound  to 
succumb,  as  the  belles  of  the  Spectator  succumbed  to 
Beau  Fielding,  when  he  said  of  them  :  "  Elles  tombent 
comme  des  mouches.'"  Our  fair  friend  might  have 
added  :  '  And  no  rising  whist-players  of  the  first-class  : 
not  one  under  middle-age,  who  has  given  proofs  of  un- 
disputed genius.' 

A  master  of  the  art  (Lord  H.  Bentinck)  who  had  sur- 
vived a  generation,  was  recently  asked  who  were  the 
best  whist-players  he  ever  knew.  He  instantly  named 
three  :  the  late  Earl  Granville,  the  Hon.  George  Anson, 
and  Henry  Lord  de  Eos.  On  being  asked  for  the  fourth 
he  paused,  but  there  was  no  need  of  hesitation  :  '  Ed  io 
anche  sono  pittore.'  No  one  would  have  accused  him 
of  undue  assumption  if  he  had  followed  the  example  of 
Lamartine,  who,  on  being  asked  who  was  the  first  livmg 
French  poet,  di'ew  himself  up  with  an  air  of  offended 
dignity,  and  repUed,  'Moi.'  The  palm  was  popularly 
considered  to  lie  between  Lord  Henry  Bentinck  and 
]\ir.  Clay,  whose  styles  were  so  essentially  difierent  that 
an  instructive  parallel  might  be  drawn  between  them 
after  the  manner  of  Plutarch.  We  regret  to  say  that 
great  whist-players  resemble  rival  beauties  in  one 
respect.  Karely  will  one  admit  the  distinguished  merit, 
not  to  say  superiority,  of  another. 

The  De  Eos  affair  was  a  sad  blow  and  a  temporary 
discredit  to  whist-players,  for  some  of  them  were  un- 
luckily seduced  into  acting  on  the  penultimate  Lord 


42S  WIirST    AND    WITIST-PLAYERS. 

Hertford's  maxim  :  '  Wliat  would  you  do  if  you  saw  a 
man  cheating  at  cards?'  'Bet  upon  him,  to  be  sure.' 
Lord  de  Eos's  methods  of  aiding  his  skill  were  only  avail- 
able for  one  hand  in  four, — when  he  dealt.  He  then 
contrived  to  tiu:n  an  honour  by  what  is  called  sauier  le 
coup^  and  having  marked  the  higher  honours  with  his 
nail,  he  could  see  to  whom  they  fell.  During  the  burst 
of  scandalous  comment  which  followed  the  exposure, 
one  of  the  '  bitter  fools  '  of  society,  who  had  never  been 
admitted  to  his  intimacy,  drawled  out  at  Crockford's : 
'  I  would  leave  my  card  at  his  house,  but  I  fear  he 
would  mark  it.'  The  retort  was  ready  :  '  That  would 
depend  on  whether  he  considered  it  a  high  honour.' 
This  repartee,  popularly  assigned  to  Lord  Alvanley, 
was  made  by  Charles  Kinnaird  Sheridan  (the  brother  of 
the  three  gifted  sisters  of  the  race),  whose  untimely 
and  deeply  regretted  death,  in  the  bloom  of  his  bril- 
liant youth,  was  a  memento  mori  which  not  the  gayest 
or  most  thoughtless  of  his  gay  contemporaries  could 
speedily  shake  off: 

Manibiis  date  lilia  plenis  : 
PurpureoB  spargam  tlores,  anitnainque  nepotis 
His  saltern  accumulem  donis,  et  fungar  inaiii 
Munere. 

There  is  a  well  authenticated  story  of  the  late  Lord 
Granville's  devotion  to  whist.  Intending  to  set  out  in 
the  course  of  the  afternoon  for  Paris,  he  ordered  his 
carriage  and  four  posters  to  be  at  Graham's  at  four. 
They  were  kept  waiting  till  ten  ;  when  he  sent  out  to 
say  that  he  should  not  be  ready  for  another  hour  or 
two,  and  that  the  horses  had  better  be  changed  :  they 
were  changed  three  times  in  all,  at  intervals  of  six 
hours,  before  he  started.  When  the  party  rose,  they 
were  up  to  their  ankles  in  cards,  and  the  ambassador 
(it  was  reported)  was  a  loser  to  the  tune  of  eight  or 
ten  thousand  pounds.  About  this  time  there  was  a  set 
at   Brcjoks's  (Lord  Sefton,   an  excellent  player,  being 


WIIIST    AM)    WIIIST-PLAYERS.  429 

one)  who  played  hundred  guinea  points  besides  bets. 
We  still  occasionally  hear  of  300/.  and  500/.  on  the 
rubber,  but  five  pound  points  are  above  the  average  ; 
and  many  of  the  best  players  are  content  with  two 
pound  points  (ten,  bet)  at  the  Turf,  and  half  pounds 
at  the  Portland.  A  good  deal  of  money  is  turned  on 
the  five  to  two  (really  nearer  three  to  one)  bet  on  the 
rubber  after  the  first  game. 

In  Paris  (where  the  rubber  counts  four)  the  points 
are  comparatively  low,  much  in  our  opinion  to  the 
detriment  of  the  game.  During  the  period  comprised 
in  M.  Louis  Blanc's  Histoire  de  Dix  Ans,  the  stakes  at 
the  Cercle  de  I'Uuion  were  such  that  Count  Achille 
Delamarre  calculated  his  average  rubber  at  200  louis. 
There,  and  afterwards  at  the  French  Jockey  Club,  the 
level  rate  was  two  louis  and  ten  bet,  but  the  lar<?e  ad 
libitum  bets  became  so  general  that  any  one  who  cut  in 
without  joining  in  them  was  looked  upon  as  an  interloper. 
The  principal  players  at  the  Union  were  Lord  Granville 
(the  English  ambassador),  Count  Medem  (secretary  to 
the  Eussian  embassy),  Coimt  Walewsld,  the  Due  deEiche- 
heu.  General  ]\iichelski,Comte  Deschapelles  (the  author), 
Comte  Achille  Delamarre,  and  M.  Bonpierre  :  the  three 
last,  with  Lord  Granville,  being  esteemed  the  best  of 
the  lot.^  Amongst  the  best  Parisian  players  who  h^^e 
since  come  into  the  field  (of  green  cloth)  are  Vicomte 
Paid  Darn,  Count  d'Albon,  Comte  d'Andlau,  Comte  de 
Malart,  ]\Ir.  Cummiug,  Count  Morauski,  Vicomte  Ladis- 
las  de  St.-Pierre,  and  his  brother  M.  Maurice  de  St.- 
Pierre.  The  highest  pla}^  during  the  last  two  or  three 
years  has  been  at  the  Petit  Club  de  la  rue  Eoyale, 
where  it  ranges  from  1  to  30,  or  1  and  50,  up  to  or 
above  1  and  100  louis :  the  points  being  stationary  and 
the  bets  fluctuating.  The  scale  of  play  has  been  raised 
above  the  usual  level  at  Paris  by  the  very  high  play  at 

^  Deschapelles  gave  the  pieference  to  Delamarre,  saying  that,  with  hiin 
for  a  partner,  he  woulu  uul  miud  pl.iyiug  dummy  against  X<?  Pcrc  Eterncl. 


430  WHIST   AXD    WHIST-PLAYERS. 

Baccarat,  at  which  16,000/.  has  been  lost  by  one  person 
in  one  night,  ^ 

There  used  to  be  liigh  play  at  BerUn  and  Vienna. 
Count  Palfy  won  enough  at  a  single  sitting  of  Prince 
John  of  lichtenstein  to  build  and  furnish  a  chateau. 
It  was  shown  to  the  loser,  who,  on  being  asked  how 
he  liked  it,  rephed :  '  Pas  du  tout ;  cela  a  tout-a-fait 
I'au'  d'un  chateau  de  cartes.'  Count  Brllhl  wrote  a 
treatise  on  whist,  which,  we  regret  to  say,  we  have 
been  unable  to  procure.  There  is  a  current  anecdote 
of  Count  Eechberg,  late  Secretary  for  Foreign  Aflairs 
in  Austria,  which  justifies  a  surmise  that  he  also  is  a 
proficient.  His  left-hand  adversary  {proh  pudor^  an 
Englishman)  made  so  desperate  though  successful  a 
finesse,  that  his  excellency  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
surprise,  whereupon  the  gentleman  offered  a  bet  that 
the  count  himself  should  acknowledge  that  he  had  a 
sound  reason  for  his  play.  It  was  taken,  and  he  then 
coolly  said,  'Why,  I  looked  over  your  hand.'  This 
gentleman  must  have  graduated  under  the  Artful 
Dodger,  who,  when  playing  dummy  in  Fagin's  den, 
is  commended  for  '  wisely  regulating  his  play  by  the 
result  of  his  observations  on  his  neighbours'  cards.' 

Some  thirty-five  years  since  a  remarkable  set  used 
to  meet  in  Berlin  at  Prince  Wittgenstein's,  including 
Count  Alopeus,  the  Eussian  Minister,  General  Nostitz, 
Sir  Henry  Bulwer  (then  attached  to  the  Berlin  embassy) 
and  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  (afterwards  King  of 
Hanover).  Another  of  the  royal  family,  the  late  Duke 
of  York,  played  whist  a  great  deal  and  lost  a  great  deal 
of  money  at  it,  as  well  he  might,  for  he  invariably 
showed  by  liis  face  whether  he  was  satisfied  or  dis- 
satisfied with  his  cards,  and  played  them  indifferently 
into  the  bargain.  He  played  pony  points  (25/.)  and 
fifty  bet,  making  the  full  or  bum})er  rubber  250/. 
One  evening,  ha\ing  w^on  threefullrubbersof  a  wealthy 

'  It  will  be  reinombered  tliut  this  was  written  in  April,  I8G9. 


WIIIST   AND    WHIST-PLAYERS.  431 

parvenu,  he  was  reluctantly  reniiiided  that  there  was 
a  prior  loss  of  some  four  thousand  pounds  to  be  set  off. 
'  No,  no,'  he  protested,  '  that  will  never  do.  We  have 
nothing  to  do  with  old  scores  ;'  and  the  man  was  fool 
enough  to  pay.  There  is  no  royal  road  to  wliist,  and 
as  royal  personages  with  the  best  natural  dispositions 
rarely  submit  to  be  taught,  it  is  fortunate  that  the 
kingly  power  has  been  limited  since  Caimte,  who  had 
a  courtier  hanged  for  check-mating  him,  and  would 
doubtless  have  had  him  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered 
for  claiming  a  revoke  at  whist.  This  great  and  wise 
king  had  evidently  come  to  the  conclusion  tliat  the 
occasional  execution  of  a  courtier  pour  encourager  les 
autres  inculcated  a  moral  more  practically  than  getting 
wet  feet  through  the  disobedience  of  the  waves. 

When  Napoleon  was  at  Wurtemberg,  '  he  used  to 
play  whist  in  the  evening,  but  not  for  money,  playing 
ill  and  inattentively.  One  evening  when  the  queen 
dowager  was  playing  with  him  against  her  husband 
and  his  daughter  (the  Queen  of  Westphalia,  the  wife  of 
Jerome),  the  king  stopped  Napoleon,  who  was  taking 
up  a  trick  that  belonged  to  them,  saying,  "  Sire,  on  ne 
joue  pas  ici  en  conquerant."  '  ^ 

It  must  be  admitted  as  a  partial  excuse  for  absolutism 
in  such  matters,  that  the  spirit  of  play  absorbs  or 
deadens  every  other  thought  and  feeling.  Horace 
Walpole  relates  that,  on  a  man  falhng  down  in  a  fit 

^  Diaries  of  a  Lady  of  Quality,  yecond  edition,  p.  128.  Frederic 
the  Great  was  iu  the  habit  of  kicking  the  shins  of  the  savans  who  ven- 
tured to  differ  from  him.  When  Peter  the  Great  was  on  a  visit  of 
inspection  on  board  an  English  line-of-battle  ship  at  Portsmouth,  he 
expressed  a  wish  to  witness  the  operation  of  keel-haiding,  which  consists 
in  dragging  the  subject  under  water  from  one  side  of  the  ship  to  the 
other  by  means  of  a  rope  passed  under  the  keel.  He  was  told  that  this 
was  contrary  to  law,  so  far  as  Englishmen  were  concerned.  '  If  th.at  is 
all,  you  can  take  one  of  ray  suite,'  was  his  unconcerned  rejoinder.  It 
would  be  edifying  to  watch  the  countenance  of  Sir  Edward  Cust, 
General  Grey,  or  one  of  the  Lords  in  Waiting,  when  told  olf  for  such  an 
experiment  by  our  gracious  Sovereign. 


432  WHIST    AND    WHIST-PLAYEKS. 

before  the  bay  window  of  White's,  odds  were  instantly 
offered  and  taken  to  a  large  amount  against  his 
recovery,  and  that,  on  its  being  proposed  to  bleed  him, 
the  operation  was  vehemently  resisted  as  unfair.  When 
Lord  Thanet  was  in  the  Tower  for  the  O'Connor  riot, 
three  friends — the  Duke  of  Bedford,  the  Duke 
de  Laval,  and  Captain  Smith — were  admitted  to 
play  whist  vnth  him  and  remain  till  the  lock-up  hour 
of  eleven.  Early  in  the  sitting,  Captain  Smith  fell 
back  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy,  and  one  of  the  party  rose 
to  call  for  help.  '  Stop,'  cried  another,  '  we  shall  be 
turned  out  if  you  make  a  noise ;  let  our  friend  alone 
till  eleven :  we  can  play  dummy,  and  he'll  be  none 
the  worse,  for  I  can  read  death  in  his  face.'  ^ 

The  profession  of  medicine  has  tiu^ned  out  some  good 
wdiist-players.  Three  celebrated  physicians,  being, 
like  the  surgeons  in  Zeluco,  at  a  loss  how  to  fill  up 
the  time  it  w^as  thought  decent  to  occupy  on  the  case 
of  a  noble  patient,  set  to  at  dummy.  The  patient,  if 
there  had  really  been  much  the  matter  Avith  him, 
woidd  have  found  himself  in  the  predicament  of  the 
survivor  of  the  Horatii ; 

Que  Touliez-vous  qu'il  fit  contre  trois  ? 
Qu'il  mourut. 

The  clergy,  especially  in  the  West  of  England,  were 
formerly  devoted  to  whist.  About  the  beginning  of  the 
century  there  was  a  whist  club  in  a  country  town  of 
Somersetshire,  composed  mostly  of  clergymen,  that 
met  every  Sunday  evening  in  the  back  parlour  of  a 
barber.     Four  of  these  were  acting  as  pall  bearers  at 

*  'One  night,  turning  very  faint,  I  struggled  through  the  rubber,  then 
got  up  a^:d  left  the  room,  and  fell  on  the  landing  w'ith  a  crash  that 
brought  the  other  three  players  to  my  side.  As  I  was  recovering  my 
senses,  I  heard  one  of  my  late  adversaries  say,  "  Tie  never  can  have 
played  the  hand  through  without  a  revoke,"  and  I  saw  him  steal  away  to 
see.  His  partner  followed  to  aid  in  the  examination  of  the  tricks,  and 
7iiine  to  see  fair  play,  leaving  me  stretched  as  I  fell.'  (Ex  lielaiione  S.  P. 
oue  of  the  lint'st  players  of  the  new  school.) 


WHIST    AND    WIIIST-PLAYERS.  433 

the  funeral  of  a  reverend  brotlier,  when  a  delay  occurred 
from  the  grave  not  being  ready,  or  some  other  cause  ; 
and  the  coffin  was  set  down  in  the  chancel.  By  way 
of  whiling  away  the  time,  one  of  them  produced  a  pack 
of  cards  from  his  pocket,  and  proposed  a  rubber.^  The 
rest  gladly  assented,  and  tliey  were  deep  in 
their  game,  using  the  coffin  as  their  table,  when  the 
sexton  came  to  announce  that  the  preparations  were 
complete.  We  have  carefully  verified  the  fact  that 
they  played  long  whist,  and  we  suspect  that  whist  has 
been  less  popular  in  the  church  since  the  introduction 
of  short,  by  reason  of  its  inferior  gravity.  The 
principle  is  indicated  by  Sydney  Smith  in  his  qualified 
defence  of  angling  :  '  I  give  up  fly-fishing  :  it  is  a  light, 
volatile,  dissipated  pursuit.  But  ground-bait,  with  a 
good  steady  float  that  never  bobs  without  a  bite,  is  Un 
occupation  for  a  bishop,  and  in  no  way  interferes  with 
sermon  makinof.' 

o 

We  have  seen  short  whist  played  by  a  member  of 
the  episcopal  body,  and  a  very  eminent  one,  the  vener- 
able Bishop  of  Exeter  (Philpots)  :  one  adversary  being 
the  late  Dean  of  St.  Paul's  (Mihnan) :  the  other  an 
American  diplomatist  (Mason),  and  his  partner  a  distin- 
guished foreigner  wdiose  whist  was  hardly  on  a  par  Avith 
his  scientific  acquirements  and  social  popularity.     The 

^  This  story  (it  is  to  be  hoped  apocryphal)  was  currently  told  of  the 
writer's  uncle,  the  liev.  Eichard  Abraham,  ^'icar  of  Ilniiuster  and 
Chatlcombe ;  a  man  distinguished  by  learning  and  wit.  He  resided 
mostly  at  Bath  on  the  plea  of  ill  health,  and  frequently  joined  the  card- 
table  of  Mrs.  Beadon,  the  wife  of  the  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells.  '  Mr. 
Abraham,'  said  the  Bishop,  one  morning,  '  it  strikes  me  that,  if  you  are 
well  enough  to  sit  up  half  the  night  playing  whist  at  the  Booms,  you 
must  be  well  enough  to  do  duty  at  your  living.'  '  My  Lord,'  was 
tjie  reply, '  Mrs.  Beadon  will  tell  you  that  late  whist  acts  as  a  tonic  or 
restorative  to  dyspeptic  people  with  weak  nerves.'  The  lady  at  once  made 
the  case  her  own ;  and  her  power  over  her  right  reverend  lord  was  so 
well  established  that  the  diocese  credited  her  with  the  entire  distri- 
bution of  his  patronage.  After  his  death,  she  became  well  known  to  the 
world  of  May  Fair  by  her  Sunday  whi.^t  parties,  which  rivalled  those 
of  Lady  Tancred  and  the  old  Lady  Salisbury  who  was  burnt. 
VOL.    I.  F  F 


434  WIIIST    AND    WIIIST-PLAYERS. 

two  chuiTh  dignitaries  played  a  steady  sound  ortliodox 
iranie.  Tlie  bishop  bore  a  run  of  ill  luck  like  a 
Clu'istian  and  a  bishop,  but  when  (after  the  diplomatist 
had  puzzled  liim  by  a  false  card)  the  Count  lost  the 
U'ame  by  not  returning  his  trump,  the  excellent  prelate 
looked  as  if  about  to  bring  the  rubber  to  a  conclusion 
as  he  once  brought  a  controversy  Avith  an  archbishop, 
namely,  by  the  bestowal  of  his  blessing ;  which  the 
archbishop,  apparently  apprehensive  of  its  acting  by  the 
rule  of  contraries,  earnestly  entreated  him  to  take  back. 
The  ftuuous  '  Jiilly  Butler,'  vicar  of  Frampton,  got 
the  offer  of  a  rich  piece  of  preferment  by  finding  a 
fox  in  the  'open,'  when  the  Prince  of  Wales  (afterwards 
George  IV.)  was  anxious  for  a  easy  run.  Many  a 
good  living  has  been  gained  by  whist-playing;  this 
being  considered  an  indispensable  quaUfication  by 
discerning  patrons  (lay  and  episcopal)  in  the  oldeu 
time.  Our  own  opinion  is  that,  if  the  spirit  of  the 
times  no  longer  admits  of  its  beinsi;  exacted  in 
candidates  for  holy  orders,  the  being  well  up  in 
Pole,  Cavendish,  or  Clay  should  command  a  hand- 
some number  of  marks  in  all  competitive  examinations, 
civil  and  military.  We  throw  out  this  suggestion  for 
the  serious  consideration  of  the  Cabinet. 


END   OF   THE   FIRST   VOLUME. 


LONDON  :     PRINTED    BY 

BP0TTI8W00DK    AND    CO.,     NKW-STIIKRT    SQUARB 

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