 Section 6. Coaching and Racing in 1815. Stagecoaches, or foreign hand teams, were introduced in Paris in 1815 by Captain Bacon of the Tenth-Hazars, afterwards a general in the Portuguese service, Sir Charles Smith, Mr. Rolls the Brewer and Arnold of the Tenth. They used to meet opposite Demidoff's house, afterwards the Café de Paris, and drive to the Boulevard Beaumarchais, and then back again, proceeding to the then unfinished Arc du Triomphe. Crowds assembled to witness the departure of the teams, and it created no little amusement to the Parisian to see perched upon Sir C. Smith's coach, one or two smartly dressed ladies, who appeared quite at home. Sir Charles was likewise a great supporter of the turf, and was the first man who brought over from England thoroughbred horses. By his indefatigable energy he contrived to get up very fair racing in the neighbourhood of Valenciennes, his trainer at this time being Tom Hurst, who is now, I believe, at Chantilly, and all the officers of our several cavalry and infantry regiments contributed their efforts to make these races respectable in the eyes of foreigners. Be this as it may, they were superior to those in the Chant de Marre, though under the patronage of the King. I shall not forget the first time I witnessed racing in Paris, for it was more like a review of gendarmes and national guards. The course was kept by a forest of bayonets, while mounted police galloped after the running horses, and in some instances reached the goal before them. The Duke d'Angoulême, with the Duke de Guiche and the Profet, were present, but there was only one small stand opposite to a sentry-box where the judge was placed. The running, to say the least of it, was ridiculous. Horses and riders fell, and the FET, as it was called, ended with a flourish of trumpets. Wonderful changes have taken place since that time, and at the Bois de Boulogne and at Chantilly may be seen running equal to that of our best races in England, and our neighbours produce horses bred in France that can carry off some of the great prizes in our own Isthmian games. Parisian Cafes in 1815 At the present day Paris may be said to be a city of cafes and restaurants. The railroads and steamboats enable the rich of every quarter of the globe to reach the most attractive of all European cities with comparative economy and facility. All foreigners arriving in Paris seem by instinct to rush to the restaurateurs, where strangers may be counted by tens of thousands. It is not surprising that we find in every important street these gaudy modern triclinia, which I should observe are as much frequented by a certain class of French people as by foreigners, for Paris is proverbially fond of dining out. In fact the social intercourse may be said to take place more frequently in the public café than under the domestic roof. In 1815 I need scarcely remark that the condition of the roads in Europe and the enormous expense of travelling made a visit to Paris a journey which could only be indulged in by a very limited and wealthy class of strangers. Hotels and cafes were then neither so numerous nor so splendid as at the present day. Maurice's Hotel was a very insignificant establishment in the Rue de l'Échiquier, and in the Rue de la Paix at that time unfinished there were but two or three hotels which would not be considered even second rate at the present time. The site of the Maison Dorée at the corner of the Rue La Fite was then occupied by a shabby building which went by the name of the Hôtel d'Angleterre and was kept by the popular and once beautiful Madame du Nord. The most celebrated restaurant was that of Beauvillier in the Rue de l'Échiquier. Mirrors and a little gilding with the decorative characteristics of this house, the cuisine was far superior to that of any restaurateur of our day and the wines were first rate. Beauvillier was also celebrated for his suprême de volaille and for his coutelette à la soubise. The company consisted of the most distinguished men of Paris. Here were to be seen Chateaubriand, Bayille de Ferrette, the dukes of Fitz James, Rochefoucault and Grameau and many other remarkable personages. It was the custom to go to the theatres after dinner and then to the Salon des étrangers which was the Parisian Crocfords. Another famous dining-house was the Rocher de Cancaille in Neurue-Mondard kept by Borrel, formerly one of the cooks of Napoleon. Here the cuisine was so refined that people were reported to have come over from England expressly for the purpose of enjoying it. Indeed Borrel once showed me a list of his customers amongst whom I found the names of Robb's Pierre, Charles James Fox and the Duke of Bedford. In the Palais Royal the still well-known Trois Frères Provences so was in vogue and frequented much by the French offices, being celebrated chiefly for its wines and its Provence dishes. It was in the Palais Royal that General Lan, Junot, Murat and other distinguished offices used to meet Bonaparte just before and during the consulate. But the cafés, with the exception of the mille-colonnes, were not nearly so smartly fitted up as they now are. The Café Turc, on the Boulevard du Temple, latterly visited chiefly by shopkeepers, was much frequented. Smoking was not allowed, and then, as now, ladies were seen here, more especially when the theatres had closed. Review of the Allied armies by the Allied Sovereigns in Paris In July 1815 it was agreed by the sufferings of Russia, Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Württemberg and a host of petty German powers who had become wonderfully courageous and enthusiastically devoted to England a few hours after the Battle of Waterloo, that a grand review should be held on the Plains of Saint-Denis, where the whole of the Allied forces were to meet. Accordingly, at an early hour on a fine summer morning, there were seen, issuing from the various roads which centre on the Plains of Saint-Denis, numerous English, Russian, Prussian and Austrian regiments of horse and foot, in heavy marching order, with their bands playing, and finally a mass of men numbering not less than two hundred thousand took up their positions on the widespreading field. About twelve o'clock the Duke of Wellington, commander-in-chief of the Allied army, approached, mounted on a favourite charger, and, strange as it may appear, on his right was observed a lady in a plain riding-habit, who was no other than Lady Shelley, the wife of the late Sir John Shelley. Immediately behind the Duke followed the emperors of Austria and Russia, the kings of Prussia, Holland, Bavaria and Württemberg, several German princes and general officers, the whole forming one of the most illustrious and numerous staffs ever brought together. The Duke of Wellington, thus accompanied, took up his position, and began manoeuvring with a facility and confidence which elicited the admiration of all the experienced soldiers around him. Being on duty near his grace, I had an opportunity of hearing Prince Schwarzsenberg say to the Duke, you are the only man who can so well play at this game. The review lasted two hours, then the men marching home to their quarters through a crowd of spectators which included the whole population of Paris, the most mournful silence was observed throughout, on the part of the French. Conduct of the Russian and Prussian soldiers during the occupation of Paris by the Allies. It is only just to say that the moderation shown by the British army from the Duke of Wellington down to the private soldier during our occupation of Paris contrasted most favourably with that of the Russian and Prussian military. Whilst we simply did our duty and were civil to all those with whom we came in contact, the Russians and Prussians were frequently most insubordinate and never lost an opportunity of insulting a people whose armies had almost always defeated them on the day of battle. I remember one particular occasion when the Emperor of Russia reviewed his guard Amperial that the Cossacks actually charged the crowds and inflicted wounds on the unarmed and inoffensive spectators. I recollect, too, a Prussian regiment displaying its bravery in the Rue Saint-Donorais on a number of hackney-coachmen. Indeed scarcely a day passed without outrages being committed by the Russian and Prussian soldiers on the helpless population of the lower orders. The British Embassy in Paris. England was represented at this period by Sir Charles Stewart, who was one of the most popular ambassadors Great Britain ever sent to Paris. He made himself acceptable to his countrymen and paid as much attention to individual interests as to the more weighty duties of state. His attache, as is always the case, took their tone and manner from their chief, and were not only civil and agreeable to all those who went to the Embassy, but knew everything and every body, and were of great use to the ambassador, keeping him well supplied with information on whatever event might be taking place. The British Embassy in those days was a centre where you were sure to find all the English gentlemen in Paris collected from time to time. Dinners, balls and receptions were given with profusion throughout the season. In fact Sir Charles spent the whole of his private income in these noble hospitalities. England was then represented, as it always should be in France, by an ambassador who worthily expressed the intelligence, the amiability and the wealth of the great country to which he belonged. At the present day the British Embassy emulates the solitude of a monastic establishment, with the exception, however, of that hospitality and courtesy which the traveller and stranger will want to experience even in monasteries. Escape of Lavalette from prison Few circumstances created a greater sensation than the escape of Lavalette from the Conciergerie, after he had been destined by the French government to give employment to the guillotine. The means by which the prisoner avoided his fate and disappointed his enemies produced a deep respect for the English character, and led the French to believe that, however much the governments of France and England might be disposed to foster feelings either of friendship or of enmity, individuals could entertain the deepest sense of regard for each other, and that a chivalrous feeling of honour would urge them on to the exercise of the noblest feelings of our nature. This incident likewise had a salutary influence in preventing acts of cruelty and of bloodshed which were doubtless contemplated by those in power. Lavalette had been, under the imperial government, head of the post office, which place he filled on the return of the Bourbons, and when the Emperor Napoleon arrived from Elba he continued still to be thus employed. Darkless on all occasions when opportunity presented itself, he did all in his power to serve his great master, to whom indeed he was allied by domestic ties having married into the Bourgne family. When Louis XVIII returned to Paris after the Battle of Waterloo, Lavalette and the unfortunate Marshal Ney were singled out as traitors to the Bourbon cause, and tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. The 26th of December was the day fixed for the execution of Lavalette, a man of high respectability and of great connections whose only fault was fidelity to his chief. On the evening of the 21st, Madame Lavalette, accompanied by her daughter and her governess Madame du Toit, a lady of seventy years of age, presented herself at the conciergerie to take a last farewell of her husband. She arrived at the prison in a sedan chair. On this very day the procureur général had given an order that no one should be admitted without an order signed by himself. The greffier having, however, on previous occasions been accustomed to receive Madame Lavalette with the two ladies who now sought also to enter the cell, did not object to it. So these three ladies proposed to take coffee with Lavalette. The under jailer was sent to a neighbouring café to obtain it, and during his absence Lavalette exchanged dresses with his wife. He managed to pass undetected out of the prison accompanied by his daughter, and entered the chair in which Madame Lavalette had arrived, which, owing to the management of a faithful ballet, had been placed so that no observation could be made of the person entering it. The bearers found the chair somewhat heavier than usual, but were ignorant of the change that had taken place, and were glad to find, after proceeding a short distance, that the individual within preferred walking home and giving up the sedan to the young lady. On the greffier entering the cell he quickly discovered the ruse and gave the alarm. The under jailer was dispatched to stop the chair, but he was too late. Lavalette had formed a friendship with a young Englishman of the name of Bruce, to whom he immediately had recourse throwing himself upon his generosity and kind feeling for protection, which was unhesitatingly afforded. But as Bruce could do nothing alone, he consulted two English friends who had shown considerable sympathy for the fate of Marshal Ney, men of liberal principles and undoubted honour, and both of them officers in the British service. These were Captain Hutchinson and General Sir Robert Wilson. To the latter was committed the most difficult task that of conveying out of France the condemned prisoner. But for this achievement few men were better fitted than Sir Robert Wilson, a man of fertile imagination, ready courage, great assurance, and singular power of command over others, who spoke French well and was intimately acquainted with the military habits of different nations. Sir Robert Wilson's career was a singular one. He had commenced life an ardent enemy of Bonaparte, and it was upon his evidence collected in Egypt and published to the world that the great general was for a long time believed to have poisoned his wounded soldiers at Jaffa. Afterwards he was attached to the Allied sufferings in their great campaign, but upon his arrival in Paris his views of public affairs became suddenly changed. He threw off the yoke of preconceived opinions, became an ardent liberal, and so continued to the last hours of his life. The cause of this sudden change of opinion has never been thoroughly known, but certain it is that on every occasion he supported liberal opinions with a firmness and courage that astonished those who had known him in his earlier days. Sir Robert undertook in the midst of great dangers and difficulties to convey Lavalette out of France. Having dressed him in the uniform of an English officer, and obtained a passport under a feigned name, he took him in a cabriolet past the barriers as far as Compiègne, where a carriage was waiting for them. They passed through sundry examinations at the fortified towns, but fortunately escaped. The great difficulty being that owing to Lavalette's having been the director of the posts, his countenance was familiar to almost all the postmasters who supplied relays of horses. At Cambrai three hours were lost from the gates being shut, and at Valenciennes they underwent three examinations, but eventually they got out of France. The police however became acquainted with the fact that Lavalette had been concealed in Naru de Eldée for three days at the apartments of Mr Bruce, and this enabled them to trace all the circumstances, showing that it was at the apartments of Hutchinson that Lavalette had changed his dress, and that he had remained there the night before he quitted Paris. The consequence was that Sir Robert Wilson, Bruce and Hutchinson were tried for aiding the escape of a prisoner, and each of them was condemned to three months imprisonment. The under-jailer, who had evidently been well paid for services rendered, had two years' confinement allotted to him. I went to see Sir Robert Wilson during his stay in the Conciergerie, a punishment not very difficult to bear, but which marked him as a popular hero for his life. A circumstance, I remember, made a strong impression on me, proving that, however great may be the courage of a man in trying circumstances, a trifling incident might severely shake his nerves. I was accompanied by a favourite dog of the Countess of Oxford, who, not being aware of the high character of Sir Robert, or dissatisfied with his physiognomy, or for some good canine reason, took a sudden antipathy, and inserted his teeth into a somewhat fleshy part, but without doing much injury. The effect, however, on the general was extraordinary. He was most earnest to have the dog killed. But, being certain that the animal was in no way diseased, I avoided obeying his wishes, and fear that I thus lost the good graces of the worthy man. Dueling in France in 1815 When the restoration of the Bourbons took place, a variety of circumstances combined to render dueling so common that scarcely a day passed without one at least of these hostile meetings. Amongst the French themselves, there were two parties always ready to distribute to each other des coups de paix, the officers of Napoleon's army and the Bourbonist officers of the garde du corps. Then again, there was the irritating presence of the English, Russian, Prussian and Austrian officers in the French capital. In the duels between these soldiers and the French, the latter were always the aggressors. At Tortoni's on the boulevards, there was a room set apart for such quarrels some gentlemen, where after these meetings they indulged in riotous champagne breakfasts. At this café might be seen all the most notorious dualists, amongst whom I can call to mind an Irishman in the garde du corps, W., who was a most formidable fire eater. The number of duels in which he had been engaged would seem incredible in the present day. He is said to have killed nine of his opponents in one year. The Marquis de H., descended of an ancient family in Brittany, also in the garde du corps, likewise fought innumerable duels, killing many of his antagonists. I have heard that on entering the army he was not of a quarrelsome disposition, but was laughed at and bullied into fighting by his brother officers, and like a wild beast that had once smelt blood, from the day of his first duel he took a delight in such fatal scenes, being ever ready to rush at and quarrel with any one. The Marquis has now, I am glad to say, subsided into a very quiet, placable and peacemaking old gentleman, but at the time I speak of he was much blamed for his duel with F., a young man of nineteen. While dining at a café he exclaimed, j'ai envie de tuer quelqu'un, and rushed out into the street and into the theatres, trying to pick a quarrel. But he was so well known that no one was found willing to encounter him. At last, at the théâtre de la porte Saint Martin, he grossly insulted this young man, who was, I think, an eleve of the École Polytechnique, and a duel took place under the lamp-post near the theatre with swords. He ran F. through the body, and left him dead upon the ground. The late Marshal Saint A. and General J. were great dualists at this time, with a whole host of others whose names I forget. The meetings generally took place in the Bois de Poulogne, and the favourite weapon of the French was the small sword or the sabre. But foreigners, in fighting with the French, who were generally capital swordsmen, availed themselves of the use of pistols. The ground for a duel with pistols was marked out by indicating two spots, which were twenty-five paces apart. The seconds then generally proceeded to toss up, who should have the first shot, when the principles were placed, and the word was given to fire. The Café Foix in the Palais Royal was the principal place of rendez-vous for the Prussian officers, and to this café the French officers on half-pay frequently proceeded, in order to pick quarrels with their foreign invaders. Swords were quickly drawn, and frequently the most bloody phrase took place. These originated not in any personal hatred, but from national jealousy on the part of the French, who could not bear the sight of foreign soldiers in their capital, which, ruled by the great captain of the age, had, like Rome, influenced the rest of the world. On one occasion our guards, who were on duty at the Palais Royal, were called out to put an end to one of these encounters, in which fourteen Prussians and ten Frenchmen were either killed or wounded. The French took every opportunity of insulting the English, and very frequently, I am sorry to say, those insults were not met in a manner to do honour to our character. Our countrymen in general were very pacific, but the most awkward customer the French ever came across was my fellow countryman, the late Gallant Colonel Sir Charles S. of the Engineers, who was ready for them with anything—sword, pistols, sabre, or fists—he was good at all, and though never seeking a quarrel, he would not put up with the slightest insult. He killed three Frenchmen in Paris in quarrels forced upon him. I remember, in October 1815, being asked by a friend to dine at Beauvilliers in the Rue Richelieu, when Sir Charles S., who was well known to us, occupied a table at the farther end of the room. About the middle of the dinner we heard a most extraordinary noise, and on looking up, perceived that it arose from S.'s table. He was engaged in beating the head of a smartly dressed gentleman with one of the long French loaves, so well known to all who have visited France. Upon asking the reason of such rough treatment on the part of our countrymen, he said he would serve all Frenchmen in the same manner if they insulted him. The offence, it seems, proceeded from the person who had just been chastised in so summery a manner. He had stared and laughed at S., in a rude way, for having ordered three bottles of wine to be placed upon his table. The upshot of all this was a duel which took place next day at a place near Vincennes, and in which S. shot the unfortunate jester. When Sir Charles returned to Valenciennes, where he commanded the engineers, he found on his arrival a French officer waiting to avenge the death of his relation, who had only been shot ten days before at Vincennes. They accordingly fought, before S. had time to even shave himself or eat his breakfast, he having only just arrived in his coupe from Paris. The meeting took place in the farce of the fortress, and the first shot from S.'s pistol killed the French officer, who had actually travelled in the diligence from Paris for the purpose as he boasted to his fellow travellers of killing an Englishman. I recollect dining in 1816 at Hervey Aston's at the Hotel Brataille in the Rue de Révolue, opposite the Tuileries, where I met Seymour Bathurst and Captain E. of the artillery, a very good-looking man. After dinner Mrs Aston took us as far as Tortonies on her way to the opera. On entering the café Captain E. did not touch his hat, according to the custom of the country, but behaved himself, à la John Bull, in a noisy and swaggering manner, upon which General then Colonel J. went up to E. and knocked off his hat, telling him that he hoped he would in future behave himself better. Aston Bathurst and I waited for some time, expecting to see E. knock J. down, or at all events give him his card, as a preliminary to a hostile meeting, on receiving such an insult. But he did nothing. We were very much disgusted and annoyed at a countryman's behaving in such a manner, and after a meeting at my lodgings we recommended Captain E. in the strongest terms to call out Colonel J. But he positively refused to do so, as he said it was against his principles. This specimen of the white feather astonished us beyond measure. Captain E., shortly after, received orders to start for India, where I believe he died of cholera, in all probability, of funk. I do not think that Colonel J. would altogether have escaped with impunity, after such a gratuitous insult to an English officer. But he retired into the country almost immediately after the incident at Tortoni's, and could not be found. There were many men in our army who did not, thus, disgrace the British uniform, when insulted by the French. I cannot omit the names of my old friends Captain Burgess, Mike Fitzgerald, Charles Hesse, and Thoroton, each of whom, by their willingness to resent gratuitous offences, showed that insults to Englishmen were not to be committed with impunity. The last named officer, having been grossly insulted by Marshal V, without giving him the slightest provocation, knocked him down. This circumstance caused a great sensation in Paris, and brought about a court of inquiry, which ended in the acquittal of Captain Thoroton. My friend B., though he had only one leg, was a good swordsman, and contrived to kill a man at Lyon, who had jeered him about the loss of his limb at Waterloo. My old and esteemed friend, Mike Fitzgerald, son of Lord Edward and the celebrated Pamela, was always ready to measure swords with the Frenchman, and after a brawl at Silvers, the then fashionable Bonapartist café, at the corner of the Rue Lafite and the Boulevard, in which two of our Scotch countrymen showed the white feather, he and another officer placed their own cards over the chimney-piece in the principal room of the café, offering to fight any man, or number of men, for the frequent public insult offered to Britons. This challenge, however, was never answered. A curious duel took place at Boulevard during the occupation of France by our army. A Captain B., of one of our cavalry regiments, quartered in that town, was insulted by a French officer. B. demanded satisfaction, which was accepted. But the Frenchman would not fight with pistols. B. would not fight with swords, so at last it was agreed that they should fight on horseback with lances. The duel took place in the neighbourhood of Beauvais, and a crowd assembled to witness it. B. received three wounds, but by a lucky prod eventually killed his man. B. was a fine-looking man and a good horseman. My late friend, the Baron de P., so well known in Parisian circles, was second to the Frenchman on this occasion. A friend of mine, certainly not of a quarrelsome turn, but considered by his friends on the contrary as rather a good-natured man, had three duels forced upon him in the course of a few weeks. He had formed a liaison with a person whose extraordinary beauty got him into several scrapes and disputes. In January 1817, a few days after this acquaintance had been formed, Jack B., well known at that time in the best society in London, became madly in love with the fair lady, and attempted one night to enter her private box at Drury Lane. This, my friend endeavoured to prevent, violent language was used, and a duel was the consequence. The parties met a few miles from London, in a field close to the Uxbridge Road, where B., who was a hot tempered man, did his best to kill my friend. But after the exchange of two shots, without injury to either party, they were separated by their seconds. B., was the son of Lady Bridget B., and the seconds were Payne, uncle to George Payne, and Colonel Jodrell of the Guards. Soon after this incident, my friend accompanied the lady to Paris, where they took up their residence at Maurices, in the Rue de l'Échiquier. The day after their arrival, they went out to take a walk in the Palais Royale, and were followed by a half-pay officer of Napoleon's army, Colonel D., a notorious dualist, who observed to the people about him that he was going to bully Anonglé. This man was exceedingly rude in his remarks, uttered in a loud voice. And after every sort of insult expressed in words, he had the impudence to put his arm round the lady's waist. My friend indignantly asked the Colonel what he meant, upon which the ruffians spat in my friend's face. But he did not get off with impunity, for my friend, who had a crab-stick in his hand, caught him a blow on the side of the head which dropped him. The Frenchman jumped up and rushed at the Englishman, but they were separated by the bystanders. Cards were exchanged, and a meeting was arranged to take place the next morning in the neighbourhood of Fassie. When my friend, accompanied by his second Captain H. of the 18th, came upon the ground, he found the Colonel boasting of the number of officers of all nations whom he had killed, and saying, I'll now complete my list by killing an Englishman, mon petit-tire aura bientôt t'en compte, car je tire pour bien. My friend quietly said, je tire pas mal non plus, and took his place. The Colonel, who seems to have been a horrible ruffian, after a good deal more swaggering and bravado, placed himself opposite, and, on the signal being given, the Colonel's ball went through my friend's whiskers, whilst his ball pierced his adversary's heart, who fell dead without a groan. This duel made much noise in Paris, and the survivor left immediately for Chantilly, where he passed some time. On his return to Paris, the second of the man who had been killed, Commander Peay, insulted and challenged my friend. A meeting was accordingly agreed upon, and pistols were again the weapons used. Again my friend won the toss, and told his second Captain H. that he would not kill his antagonist, though he richly deserved death for wishing to take the life of a person who had never offended him, but that he would give him a lesson which he should remember. My friend accordingly shot his antagonist in the knee, and I remember to have seen him limping about the streets of Paris twenty years after this event. When the result of this second duel was known, not less than eleven challenges from Bonapartists were received by the gentlemen in question. But any further encounters were put a stop to by the Minister of War, or the Duke Dongoulême, I forget which, who threatened to place the officers under arrest if they followed up this quarrel any further. When the news reached England, the Duke of York said that my friend could not have acted otherwise than he had done in the first duel, considering the gross provocation that he had received, but he thought it would have been better if the second duel had been avoided. In the deeds I have narrated, the English seem to have had the advantage, but many others took place in which Englishmen were killed or wounded. These I have not mentioned, as their details do not recur to my memory, but I do not remember a single occasion on which Frenchmen were not the aggressors. At a somewhat later period than this, the present Marquis of H, then Lord B, had a duel with the son of the Bonapartist General L. General S was Lord B's second, and the Principals exchanged several shots without injury to either party. This duel, like the preceding, originated with the Frenchmen, who insulted the Englishmen at the théâtre français in the most unprovoked manner. At the present day our fiery neighbours are much more amenable to reason, and if you are but civil, they will be civil to you. Duells consequently are of rare occurrence. Let us hope that the frequency and the animus displayed in these hostile meetings originated in national wounded vanity, rather than in personal animosity. In the autumn of 1821 I was living in Paris when my old friend H, adjutant of the first foot-guards, called upon me, and requested that I would be his second in a duel with Mr. N, an officer in the same regiment. After hearing what he had to say, and thinking I could serve him, I consented. It was agreed by Captain F, R. N., of Pitmore, Mr. N., second, that the duel should take place in the Bois de Boulogne. After an exchange of shots, Captain F and myself put an end to the duel. The cause of the quarrel was that Mr. N., now Lord G., proclaimed in the presence of Captain H. and other officers that a lady, the wife of a brother officer, was what she ought not to be. When the report reached the ear of the Colonel, His Royal Highness the Duke of York requested Mr. N. to leave the regiment or be brought to a court-martial, and then the duel took place happily without bloodshed. Both of the officers, it needs scarcely be stated, behaved with courage and coolness. Pistol Shooting From 1820 to 1830, pistol shooting was not much practised. One evening, in the Salon des Etangées, I was introduced to General F, a very great dualist, and the terror of every regiment he commanded. He was considered by Napoleon to be one of his best cavalry officers, but was never in favour, in consequence of his dueling propensities. It was currently reported that F, in a duel with a very young officer, lost his toss, and his antagonist fired first at him. When finding he had not been touched, he deliberately walked close up to the young man, saying, Je pleins ta mère, and shot him dead. But there were some doubts of the truth of this story, and I trust, for the honour of humanity, that it was either an invention or a gross exaggeration. The night I was introduced to F, I was told to be on my guard, as he was a dangerous character. He was very fond of practising with pistols, and I frequently met him at La Pages, the only place at that time where gentlemen used to shoot. F, in the year 1822, was very corpulent, and wore an enormous cravat, in order, it was said, to hide two scars received in battle. He was a very slow shot. The famous Junot, Governor General of Paris, whom I never saw, was considered to be the best shot in France. My quick shooting surprised the obituary at La Pages, where we fired at a spot chalked on the figure of a Cossack, painted on a board, and by word of command, one, two, three. F, upon my firing and hitting the mark forty times in succession, at the distance of twenty paces, shrieked out, Ta mère de Dieu, c'est magnifique! We were ever afterwards on good terms, and sapped frequently together at the salon. At Manton's, on one occasion, I hit the wafer nineteen times out of twenty. When my battalion was on duty at the tower in 1819, it happened to be very cold, and much snow covered the parade and trees. For our amusement it was proposed to shoot at the sparrows in the trees from Lady Jane Grey's room, and it fell to my lot to bag eleven without missing one. This, I may say, without flattering myself, was considered the best pistol-shooting ever heard of. Manton assigned as the reason why pistols had become the usual arms for duels, the story—now universally laughed at—of Sheridan and Captain Matthews fighting each other. They were fighting with swords on the ground, and mangling each other in a frightful way. These combatants narrated their own story, but its enormous exaggeration has been proved even on Sheridan's own evidence, and the blood that poured from him seems merely to have been the excellent claret of the previous night's debauch. The number of wounds said to have been inflicted on each other was something so incredible that nothing but the solemn asseverations of the parties could have gained belief, and in those days Sheridan had not obtained that reputation for Rodimontade which he afterwards enjoyed by universal consent. End of Section 6 Recording by Ruth Golding Section 7 of Reminiscences of Captain Granno This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ruth Golding Reminiscences of Captain Granno by Captain Rhys Howell Granno The Faubourg Saint-Germain The distinguishing characteristics of the residents of the noble Faubourg, as it was called at the time I am speaking of, were indomitable pride and exclusiveness, with a narrow-minded ignorance of all beyond the circle in which its members moved. In our day of comparative equality and general civility, no one who has not arrived at my age and lived in Paris can form any idea of the insolence and auteur of the higher classes of society in 1815. The glance of unutterable disdain, which the painted old duchess of the restoration cast upon the youthful bells of the Chaussée d'Antin, or the handsome widows of Napoleon's army of heroes, defies description. Although often responded to by a sarcastic sneer at the anti-Diluvian charms of the emigre, yet the look of contempt and disgust often sank deep into the victim's heart, leaving their germs which showed themselves fifteen years later in the Revolution of 1830. In those days, this privileged class was surrounded by a charmed circle which no one could by any means break through. Neither personal attractions nor mental qualifications formed a passport into that exclusive society to enter which the small nobility of the provinces or the nouveau riche sighed in vain. It would have been easier for a young guardsman to make his way into the convoins des oiseaux, the fashionable convent in Paris, than for any of these parvenues to force an entrance into the full-box Saint-Germain. One of the first acts which followed the restoration of the Bourbons was the grant of a pecuniary indemnity amounting to a milliard or forty million sterling, to be distributed amongst the emigre who had lost fortunes or estates by their devotion to the royal family. They had now therefore the means of receiving their friends, political partisans, and foreigners with more than usual splendour, and it must be admitted that those who were thought worthy to be received were treated like spoiled children, and petted and flattered to their heart's content. In their own houses they were really des grands soigneurs, and quite incapable of treating their invited guests with the insolence that became the fashion among the Jewish parvenues during the reign of the Citizen King. It is one thing to disdain those whom one does not think worthy of our acquaintance, and another to insult those whom one has thought proper to invite. In their own houses the inhabitants of the full-box Saint-Germain were scrupulously polite, even if some enterprising foreigner should have got in surreptitiously as long as he was under his host's roof he was treated with perfect courtesy, though ignominiously cut for the remainder of his days. All this was not very amiable, but the inhabitants of the noble Folborg were never distinguished for their amiability. Their best characteristics were the undaunted courage with which they met death upon the scaffold, and the cheerfulness and resignation with which they ate the bitter bread of exile. In general Les Grandes-Dames were not remarkable for their personal attractions, nor for the elegance of their appearance or dress. The galaxy of handsome women that formed the court of the Emperor had perhaps sent beauty somewhat out of fashion, for the high-born ladies who took their place were what we should call dowdy, and had nothing distinguished in their appearance. Many of those who belonged to the most ancient families were almost vulgar in outward form and feature. Their manner had a peculiar off-hand, easy style, and they particularly excelled in setting down any unlucky person who had happened to offend them. Their main object at this time was to stand well at court, therefore they adapted themselves to circumstances, and could be devout with the dauphine and sceptical with Louis XVIII. The men of the aristocracy of the Revolution were less clever and satirical than the women, but on the other hand they had far more of the distinguished bearing and graceful urbanity of the Grand Seigneur of the Olden Time. The émigrés nobles would have gazed with unutterable horror at their degenerate descendants of the present day, but these young booted, bearded, cigar-smoking sirens of la jeune France would have run round their courteous but perhaps rather slow ancestors in all the details of daily life. The principal houses of reception in those days were those of the Montmorency, the Richelieu, Biran, Rouen, Goutot-Taliron, Beaufremont, Luxembourg, Crayon, Choiseul, Chabot, Fitz-James, Grameau, La Tour de Pain, Coilin, and Maillie. Most of these mansions are now occupied as public offices, or Jesuitical schools, or by foreign ministers. Those who are now supposed to be the great people of the Faux-Bourg Saint-Germain are nothing more than actors, who put on a motley dress and appear before the public with the view of attracting that attention to which they are not entitled. It is therefore an error to suppose that the modern Faux-Bourg is anything like what it was during the days of the Bourbons. At the present moment, the only practical aid the inhabitants of this locality can accord to the legitimist cause in Europe is by getting up subscriptions for the papacy and such exiled sovereigns as France is the second. And in order to do so, they generally address themselves to married women and widows. In fact, it is from the purses of susceptible females, many of whom are English, that donations are obtained for legitimacy and papery in distress. It is to be regretted that the most renowned and ancient families of France have, in society and politics, yielded their places to another class. That refinement of perception, sensitiveness and gentle bearing, which take three or four generations to produce, are no longer the characteristics of Parisian society. The gilded saloons of the Tuileries and those magnificent hotels whose architects have not been geniuses of art, but the children of Mammon, are occupied by the Jew speculator, the political parasite, the clever schema, and those who, whilst following the fortune of the great man who rules France, are nothing better than half-piece. Most of these pretended devotees of imperialism have, speaking figuratively, their portmanteaux perpetually packed, ready for flight. The emperor's good nature, as regards his entourage, has never allowed him to get rid of men who, perhaps, ought not to be seen so near the imperial throne of France. The weakest feature of Napoleon III's government is the conspicuous presence of a few persons in high places whose cupidity is so extravagant that, in order to gratify their last of wealth, they would not hesitate, indirectly at least, to risk a slur on the reputation of their master and benefactor in order to gain their own ends. The Salon des étrangers in Paris When the Allies entered Paris after the Battle of Waterloo, the English gentlemen sought, instinctively, something like a club. Paris, however, possessed nothing of the sort, but there was a much more dangerous establishment than the London clubs, namely a rendezvous for confirmed gamblers. The Salon des étrangers was most gorgeously furnished, provided with an excellent kitchen and wines, and was conducted by the celebrated Marquis de Leverie, who received the guests and did the honours with a courtesy which made him famous throughout Europe. The Marquis presented an extraordinary likeness to the Prince Regent of England, who actually sent Lord Fife over to Paris to ascertain this momentous fact. The play which took place in these saloons was frequently of the most reckless character. Large fortunes were often lost, the losers disappearing never more to be heard of. Amongst the English Abitue were the honourable George T., the late Henry Bering, Lord Thanet, Tom Sowerby, Cuthbert, Mr. Steer, Henry Broadwood and Bob Arnold. The honourable George T., who used to arrive from London with a very considerable letter of credit, expressly to try his luck at the Salon des étrangers, at lengths contrived to lose his last shilling at Rougé-Noir. When he had lost everything he possessed in the world, he got up and exclaimed in an excited manner, if I had Canova's Venus and Adonis from Alton Towers, my uncle's country seat, it should be placed on the rouge, for black has won fourteen times running. The late Henry Bering was more fortunate at hazard than his countrymen, but his love of gambling was the cause of his being excluded from the banking establishment. Colonel Sowerby of the Guards was one of the most inveterate players in Paris and, as is frequently the case with a fair player, a considerable loser. But perhaps the most incurable gangster amongst the English was Lord Thanet, whose income was not less than fifty thousand pounds a year, every farthing of which he lost at play. Cuthbert dissipated the whole of his fortune in like manner. In fact I do not remember any instance where those who spent their time in this den did not lose all they possessed. The Marquis de El had a charming villa at Romainville near Paris, to which on Sundays he invited not only those gentlemen who were the most prodigal patrons of his salon, but a number of ladies who were dancers and singers conspicuous at the opera, forming a society of the strangest character, the male portion of which were bent on losing their money, whilst the ladies were determined to get rid of whatever virtue they might still have left. The dinners on these occasions were supplied by the chef of the Salon des étrangers, and were such as few renommés of the kitchens of France could place upon the table. Amongst the constant guests was Lord Fife, the intimate friend of George IV, with Marcel Noble, a dancer, who gave so much satisfaction to the obitue of the pit at the opera, both in Paris and London. His lordship spent a fortune upon her. His presence in jewels, furniture, articles of dress and money exceeded forty thousand pounds. In return for all this generosity, Lord Fife asked nothing more than the ladies' flattery and professions of affection. Hall's Standish was always to be seen in this circle, and his own hotel in the Rue Le Paletier was often lighted up, and fates given to the theatrical and de me monde. Standish died in Spain, leaving his gallery of pictures to Louis Philippe. Amongst others who visited the Salon des étrangers were Sir Francis Vincent, Gooch, Green, Ball Hughes, and many others whose names I no longer remember. Of foreigners the most conspicuous were Bluscher, General Ormano, father-in-law of Count Valeschi, Pacto and Clarie, as well as most of the ambassadors at the court of the Tuileries. As at Crockford's, a magnificent supper was provided every night for all who thought proper to avail themselves of it. The games principally played were Rougé Noir and Hazard, the former producing an immense profit, for not only were the whole of the expenses of this costly establishment defrayed by the winnings of the bank, but a very large sum was paid annually to the municipality of Paris. I recollect a young Irishman, Mr. Goff, losing a large fortune at this tapiver. After returning home about two a.m., he sat down and wrote a letter, giving reasons as to why he was about to commit suicide. These, it is needless to say, were simply his gambling reverses. A pistol shot through the brain terminated his existence. Sir Francis Vincent, a man of old family and considerable fortune, was another victim of this French hell, who contrived to get rid of his magnificent property, and then disappeared from society. In calling up my recollections of the Salon des étrangers, some forty years since, I see before me the noble form and face of the Hungarian Count Hunyadi, the chief gambler of the day, who created considerable sensation in his time. He became très à la mode. His horses, carriage, and house were considered perfect, while his good looks were the theme of universal admiration. There were ladies cloaks à la Uniade, whilst the illustrious borrel of the Rocher de Cancaille named new dishes after the famous Hungarian. Hunyadi's luck for a long time was prodigious. No bank could resist his attacks, and at one time he must have been a winner of nearly two millions of francs. His manners were particularly calm and gentleman-like. He sat, apparently unmoved, with his right hand in the breast of his coat, whilst thousands depended upon the turning of a card or the hazard of a die. His valet, however, confided to some indiscreet friend, that his nerves were not of such iron temper as he would have made people believe, and that the Count bore in the morning the bloody marks of his nails, which he had pressed into his chest in the agony of an unsuccessful turn of fortune. The streets of Paris were at that time not very safe. Consequently the Count was usually attended to his residence by two gendarmes, in order to prevent his being attacked by robbers. Hunyadi was not wise enough, what gamblers are, to leave Paris with his large winnings, but continued as usual to play day and night. A run of bad luck set in against him, and he lost not only the whole of the money he had won, but a very large portion of his own fortune. He actually borrowed fifty pounds of the well-known Tommy Garth, who was himself generally more in the borrowing than the lending-line, to take him back to Hungary. The Duchess de Verrie at Mass at the Chapelle Royale I had the honour of being invited to an evening party at the Tuileries in the winter of 1816, and was in conversation with the Contest de l'Espinas, when the Duchess did me the honour to ask me if I intended going to Saint-Germain to hunt. I replied in the negative, not having received an invitation. Upon which the Duchess graciously observed that if I would attend Mass the following morning in the Royal Chapel she would manage it. Accordingly I presented myself there, dressed in a black coat and trousers and white neck-cloth. But at the entrance a huge Swiss told me I could not enter the chapel without knee-buckles. At that moment Alexandre Gérardin, the grand veneur, came to my assistance. He spoke to the Duchess, who immediately gave instructions that Mr. Gronneau was to be admitted sans culotte. The card for the hunt came, but the time to get the uniform was so short that I was prevented going to Saint-Germain. At that time the fascinating Duchess de Berri was the theme of admiration of every one. All who could obtain admission to the chapel were charmed with the grace with which, on passing through the happy group who had been fortunate enough to gain the privilege, she cast her glance of recognition upon those who were honoured with her notice. When again I had the honour of being in the presence of the Duchess she inquired whether the hunt amused me, and upon my telling her that I had been unable to go, in consequence of the want of the required uniform, the Duchess archly remarked, Ah! Monsieur le Capitaine, parce que vous n'avez pas jamais d'aigulotte! Lord Westmoreland When I was presented at the court of Louis XVIII, Lord Westmoreland, the grandfather of the present Lord, accompanied Sir Charles Stewart to the Tuileries. On our arrival in the room where the King was, we formed ourselves into a circle, when the King, good-naturedly inquired after Lady Westmoreland, from whom his lordship was divorced, and whether she was in Paris. Upon this the noble Lord looked sullen, and refused to reply to the question put by the King. His Majesty, however, repeated it, when Lord Westmoreland hallowed out in bad French, je ne sais pas, je ne sais pas, je ne sais pas. Louis Rising said, assez millore, assez millore. On one occasion, Lord Westmoreland, who was Lord Prithee Seal, being asked what office he held, replied, Le Chancelier et le Grand Sault, S-E-E-A-U, in brackets S-O-T, moi je suis le petit saut dans la terre. On another occasion he wished to say, I would if I could, but I can't, and rendered it, je voudrais si je coudrai, mais je ne connais pas. Aldermen Wood Among the many English who then visited Paris was Aldermen Wood, who had previously filled the office of Lord Mayor of London. He ordered a hundred visiting cards, inscribing upon them Aldermen Wood, F-Lord Mayor de Londres, which he had largely distributed amongst people of rank, having translated the word late into fur, which I need hardly state, means dead. The Opera A few years after the restoration of the Bourbons, the opera was the grand resort of all the fashionable world. Sostain de la Rochefoucault was minister of the household, and his office placed him at the head of all the theatres. Monsieur de la Rochefoucault was exceedingly polite to our countrymen, and gave permission to most of our dandies to go behind the scenes, where Bigotini, Fanny Bias, Vestri, Anatole, Paul, Albert, and the other principal dancers congregated. One of our countrymen, having been introduced by Monsieur de la Rochefoucault to Mme Zelle Bigotini, the beautiful and graceful dancer, in the course of conversation with this gentleman, asked him in what part of the theatre he was placed, upon which he replied, Mme Zelle dans un loge roti, instead of griller. The lady could not understand what he meant, until his introducer explained the mistake, observing, les diables des ongles pensent toujours à leur hospice. Fanny Elsler In 1822 I saw this beautiful person for the first time. She was originally one of the figuants at the opera at Vienna, and was at this time about fourteen years of age, and of delicate and graceful proportions. Her hair was urban, her eyes blue and large, and her face wore an expression of great tenderness. Some years after the Duke of Reichstadt, the son of the great Napoleon, was captivated with her beauty. In a word he became her acknowledged admirer, while her marvellous acting and dancing drew around her all the great men of the German court. The year following she went to Naples, where a brother of the king fell desperately in love with her. Mme Zelle Elsler went soon afterwards to Paris, where her wit electrified all the fashionable world, and her dancing and acting in the diable a boiteur made the fortune of the entrepreneur. In London her success was not so striking, but her couture will long be remembered as one of the most exquisite exhibitions of female grace and power ever seen at her Majesty's theatre. And in expressiveness her pantomimic powers were unrivaled. Charles X and Louis-Philippe When the father of the present ex-king of Naples came to Paris during the reign of Charles X, Louis-Philippe, then Duke of Orléans, living at the Palais Royal, gave a very grand fate to his royal cousin. I had the honour to be one of the party invited, and witnessed an extraordinary scene which I think worth relating. About eleven o'clock, when the rooms were crowded, Charles X arrived with a numerous suite. On entering he let fall his pocket handkerchief. It was then supposed by accident. Upon this Louis-Philippe fell upon one knee and presented the handkerchief to his sovereign, who smiled and said, Merci, mon cher, merci. This incident was commented upon for many days, and several persons said that the handkerchief was purposely thrown down to see whether Louis-Philippe would pick it up. At that period the Orléans family were en mauvaise odeur at the Tuileries, and consequently this little incident created considerable gossip among the court-liquid-nunks. I remember that when Lord William Bentink was asked what he thought of the circumstance, he could naturally answer, the king most probably wanted to know how the wind blew. It was known that a large number of persons hostile to the court were invited, and among these were Casimir Perrier, the Dupin, La Fite, Benjamin Constant, and a host of others who, a few years afterwards, drove out the eldest branch that occupied the throne to make way for Louis-Philippe. Lord Thanet The late Lord Thanet, celebrated for having been imprisoned in the tower for his supposed pre-delection for republicanism, passed much of his time in Paris, particularly at the Salon des étrangers. His lordship's infatuation for play was such that when the gambling tables were closed he invited those who remained to play at chicken-hazard and écarte. The consequence was that one night he left off a loser of a hundred and twenty thousand pounds. When told of his folly and the probability of his having been cheated he exclaimed, then I consider myself lucky in not having lost twice that sum. Lord Granville, the British Ambassador Soon after Lord Granville's appointment a strange occurrence took place at one of the public gambling houses. A colonel on half-pay in the British service having lost every farthing that he possessed determined to destroy himself together with all those who were instrumental in his ruin. Accordingly he placed a canister full of fulminating powder under the table and set it on fire. It blew up but fortunately no one was hurt. The police arrested the colonel and placed him in prison. He was, however, through the humane interposition of our ambassador, sent out of France as a madman. Marshal Bluscher Marshal Bluscher, though a very fine fellow, was a very rough diamond with the manners of a common soldier. On his arrival in Paris he went every day to the salon and played the highest stakes at Rougé-Noir. The salon during the time that the Marshal remained in Paris was crowded by persons who came to see him play. His manner of playing was anything but gentleman-like and when he lost he used to swear in German at everything that was French, looking daggers at the croupier. He generally managed to lose all he had about him, also all the money his servant, who was waiting in the ante-chamber, carried. I recollect looking attentively at the manner in which he played. He would put his right hand into his pocket and bring out several rouleaux of Napoleon's and throw them on the red or black. If he won the first coup he would allow it to remain, but when the croupier stated that the table was not responsible for more than ten thousand francs, then Bluscher would roar like a lion and wrap out oaths in his native language, which would doubtless have met with great success at Billingsgate if duly translated. Fortunately they were not heeded, as they were not understood by the lookers-on. At that period there were rumours, and reliable ones too, that Bluscher and the Duke of Wellington were at loggerheads. The Prussians wanted to blow up the bridge of Jenner, but the Duke sent a battalion of our regiment to prevent it, and the Prussian engineers who were mining the bridge were civilly sent away. This circumstance created some ill-will between the chiefs. A sort of Congress of the Emperors of Austria and Russia and the King of Prussia, with Bluscher and Wellington, met at the Hotel of Foreign Affairs on the Boulevard, when, after much ado, the Duke of Wellington emphatically declared that if any of the monuments were destroyed he would take the British army from Paris. This threat had the desired effect. Nevertheless Bluscher levied contributions on the poor Parisians, and his army was newly clothed. The Bank of France was called upon to furnish him with several thousand pounds, which, it was said, were to reimburse him for the money lost at play. This, with many other instances of extortion and tyranny, was the cause of Bluscher's removal, and he took his departure by order of the King. I once saw a regiment of Prussians march down the Rue Saint-Honoré, when a line of half a dozen Hackney coachmen were quietly endeavouring to make their way in a contrary direction. Suddenly some of the Prussian soldiers left their ranks, and with the butt-end of their muskets knocked the poor coachmen off their seats. I was in uniform, and felt naturally ashamed at what I had seen. Some Frenchman came up to me and requested me to report what I had witnessed to the Duke of Wellington, but upon my telling them it would be of no avail, they one and all said the English ought to blush at having allies and friends capable of such wanton brutality. The fact is that the French had behaved so ill at Berlin, after the Battle of Jenner in 1806, that the Prussians had sworn to be revenged, if ever they had the opportunity to visit upon France, the cruelties, the extortion, insults and hard usage their own capital had suffered, and they kept their word. One afternoon, when upwards of a hundred Prussian officers entered the galleries of the Palais Royale, they visited all the shops in turn, insulting the women and striking the men, breaking the windows and turning everything upside down, nothing, indeed, could have been more outrageous than their conduct. When information was brought to Lord James Hay of what was going on, he went out and arrived just as a troop of French gendarmes were on the point of charging the Prussians, then in the garden. He lost no time in calling out his men, and placing himself between the gendarmes and the officers said he should fire upon the first who moved. The Prussians then came to him and said, We had all vowed to return upon the heads of the French in Paris the insults that they had heaped upon our countrymen in Berlin. We have kept our vow, and we will now retire. Nothing could equal the bitter hatred which existed and still exists between the French and the Prussians. End of Section 7. Recording by Ruth Golding Section 8 of Reminiscences of Captain Grono. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reminiscences of Captain Grono by Captain Rhys Howell Grono. Jew Moneylenders One of the features of high society after the long war was a passion for gambling. So universal was it that there are few families of distinction who do not, even to the present day, retain unpleasant reminiscences of the period. When people become systematic players they are often obliged to raise money at an exorbitant interest and usually under such circumstances fly to the Israelites. I have often heard players wish these people in almost every uncomfortable quarter of the known and unknown worlds. The mildness and civility with which the Christian in difficulties always addresses the moneyed Israelite contrasts forcibly with the appropriate epithets lavished on him when the day for settlement comes. When a man requires money to pay his debts of honour and borrows from the Jews, he knows perfectly well what he is doing, though one of the last things which foolish people learn is how to trace their own errors to their proper source. Hebrew Moneylenders could not thrive if there were no borrowers. The gambler brings about his own ruin. The characteristics of the Jew are never more perceptible than when they come in contact with gentlemen to ruin them. On such occasions the Jew is humble, supercilious, blunderingly flattering, and if he can become the agent of any dirty work is only too happy to be so in preference to a straightforward and honest transaction. No man is more vulgarly insulting to those dependent upon him than the Jew who invariably cringes to his superiors. Above all he is not a brave man. It will be seen, from these observations, what is my opinion of a class of traders who in all parts of the world are sure to embrace what may be termed illicit and illegitimate commerce. At the same time I suspect that the Jew simply avails himself of the weakness and vices of mankind and will continue in this line of business so long as imprudent and extravagant humanity remains what it is. Two usurers who obtained much notoriety from the high game which was brought to them were men known by the names of Jew King and Solomon. These were of very different characters. King was a man of some talent and had good taste in the fine arts. He had made the peerage a complete study, knew the exact position of everyone who was connected with a coronet, the value of their property, how deeply the estates were mortgaged, and what incumbrances weighed upon them. Nor did his knowledge stop there. By dint of sundry kind attentions to the clerks of the leading banking houses he was aware of the balances they kept and the credit attached to their names so that to the surprise of the borrower he led him into the secrets of his own actual position. He gave excellent dinners at which many of the highest personages of the realm were present and when they fancied that they were about to meet individuals whom it would be upon their conscience to recognise elsewhere were not a little amused to find clients quite as highly placed as themselves and with purses quite as empty. King had a well-appointed house in Clarges Street, but it was in a villa upon the banks of the Thames which had been beautifully fitted up by Walsh Porter in the Oriental style and which I believe is now the seat of one of the most favoured votaries of the muses Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton that his hospitalities were most lavishly and luxuriously exercised. Here it was that Sheridan told his host that he liked his table better than his multiplication table to which his host, who was not only witty but often the cause of wit in others, replied I know, Mr. Sheridan, your taste is more for Joe King than for Jew King, alluding to King the actor's admirable performance in Sheridan's school for scandal. King kept a princely establishment and a splendid echipage which he made to serve as an advertisement of his calling. A yellow carriage with panels emblazoned with a well-executed shield and armorial bearings and drawn by two richly comparison steeds, the Jehu on the box wearing, according to the fashion of those days, a coat of many capes, a powdered wig, and gloves à l'enricate, and two spruce footmen in striking but not gaudy livery with long canes in their hands, daily made its appearance in the park from four to seven in the height of the season. Mrs. King was a fine-looking woman, and being dressed in the height of fashion, she attracted innumerable gazes, who pronounced the whole turnout to be a work of refined taste, and worthy a man of so much principle and interest. It happened that during one of these drives, Lord William L., a man of fashion, but like other of the great men of the day, an issuer of paper-money discounted at high rates by the usurers, was thrown off his horse. Mr. and Mrs. King immediately quitted the carriage and placed the noble lord within. On this circumstance being mentioned in the clubs, Brummel observed it was only a bill duly, duly, taken up and honoured. Solomon indulged in many aliases, being known by the names of Goldshed, Slowman, as well as by other nom de guerre, and he was altogether of a different caste from King, being avaricious, distrustful, and difficult to deal with. He counted upon his gains with all the grasping feverishness of the miser, and owing to his great caution, he had an immense command of money, which the confidence of his brethren placed in his hands. To the jewelers, the coach-makers, and the tailors, who were obliged to give exorbitant accommodation to their aristocratic customers and were eventually paid in bills of an incredibly long date, Solomon was of inestimable use. Hamlet, Houlditch, and other dependents upon the nobility were often compelled to seek his assistance. Hamlet, the jeweler, was once looked up to as the richest tradesman at the West End. His shop at the corner of Cranbourne Alley exhibited a profuse display of gold and silver plate, whilst in the jewel-room sparkled diamonds, amethysts, rubies, and other precious stones in every variety of setting. He was constantly called on to advance money upon such objects, which were left in porn only to be taken out on the occasion of a great banquet, or when a court dress was to be worn. His gains were enormous, though it was necessary to give long credit, and his bills for twenty or thirty thousand pounds were eagerly discounted. In fact, he was looked upon as a second Cresus, or a Crassus, who could have bought the Roman Empire, and his daughter's hand was sought in marriage by peers, but all at once the mighty bubble collapsed. He had advanced money to the Duke of York, and had received a security property in Nova Scotia, consisting chiefly of mines, which, when he began to work them, turned out valueless after entailing enormous expense. Loss upon loss succeeded, and in the end bankruptcy. I have even heard that this man, once so envied for his wealth, died the inmate of an arms-house. Some persons of rank, tempted by the offers of these users, lent their money to them at a very high interest. A lady of some position lent a thousand pounds to King on the promise of receiving annually fifteen percent, which he continued to pay with the utmost regularity. Her son, being in want of money, applied for a loan of a thousand pounds, which King granted at the rate of eighty percent, lending him, of course, his mother's money. In a moment of tenderness the young man told his tale to her, when she immediately went to King, and up-braided him for not making her a party to his gains, and demanded her money back. King refused to return it, saying that he had never engaged to return the principal, and dared her to take any proceedings against him, as, being a married woman, she had no power over the money. She, however, acknowledged it to her husband, obtained his forgiveness, and after threats of legal interference King was compelled to refund the money, besides losing much of his credit and popularity by the transaction. Lord Alvenly To Lord Alvenly was awarded the reputation, good or bad, of all the witticisms in the clubs after the abdication of the throne of dandyism by Bramble, who, before that time, was always quoted as the sayer of good things, as Sheridan had been some time before. Lord Alvenly had the talk of the day completely under his control, and was the arbiter of the school for scandal in St. James's. A bon mot attributed to him gave rise to the belief that Solomon caused the downfall and disappearance of Bramble, for on some friends of the Prince of Dandy's observing that if he had remained in London something might have been done for him by his old associates, Alvenly replied, he has done quite right to be off. It was Solomon's judgment. When Sir Lumley Skeffington, who had been a lion in his day, and whose spectacle the Sleeping Beauty produced at a great expense on the stage, had made him looked up to as deserving all the blandishments of fashionable life, reappeared some years after his complete downfall and seclusion in the bench, he fancied that by a very gay external appearance he would recover his lost position. But he found his old friends very shy of him. Alvenly, being asked on one occasion who that smart-looking individual was, answered, It is a second edition of the Sleeping Beauty, bound in cough, richly guilt, and illustrated by many cuts. One of the gay men of the day named Judge being incarcerated in the bench, someone observed he believed it was the first instance of a judge reaching the bench without being previously called to the bar. To which Alvenly replied, many a bad judge has been taken from the bench and placed at the bar. He used to say that Bramble was the only dandelion that flourished year after year in the hot bed of the fashionable world. He had taken root. Lions were generally annual, but Bramble was perennial, and quoted a letter from Walter Scott, If you are celebrated for writing verses or for slicing cucumbers, for being two feet taller or two feet less than any other biped, for acting plays when you should be whipped at school or for attending schools and institutions when you should be preparing for your grave, your notoriety becomes a talisman, an open sesame, which gives way to everything, till you are voted a bore and discarded for a new plaything. This appeared in a letter from Walter Scott to the Earl of Dalkeith, when he himself, Belzoni, Master Betty the Roshias, and Old Joseph Lancaster the schoolmaster, were the lions of the season, and were one night brought together by my indefatigable old friend Lady Cork, who was the Lady of Lions of that day. General Palmer. This excellent man had the last days of his life embittered by the moneylenders. He had commenced his career surrounded by every circumstance that could render existence agreeable, fortune in his early days having smiled most benignantly on him. His father was a man of considerable ability, and was to the past generation what Roland Hill is in the present day the great benefactor of correspondence. He first proposed and carried out the mail-coach system, and letters, instead of being at the mercy of post-boys and a private speculation in many instances, became the care of government, and were transmitted under its immediate direction. During the lifetime of Mr. Palmer the reward due to him for his suggestions and his practical knowledge was denied, and he accordingly went to Bath and became the manager and proprietor of the theatre, occasionally treading the boards himself, for which his elegant deportment and good taste eminently qualified him. He has often been mistaken for gentleman Palmer, whose portrait is well drawn in the memoir of Sheridan by Dr. Sigmund, prefixed to Bones edition of Sheridan's Plays. Mr. Palmer was successful in his undertaking, and at his death his son found himself the inheritor of a handsome fortune, and became a universal favourite in Bath. The corporation of that city, consisting of thirty apothecaries, were in those burrow-mongering days the sole electors to the House of Commons, and finding young Palmer hospitable and intimate with the Marquis of Bath and Lord Camden, and likewise desiring for themselves and their families free access to the most agreeable theatre in England, returned him to Parliament. He entered the army and became a conspicuous officer in the Tent Cezars, which, being commanded by the Prince Regent, led him at once into Carlton House, the pavilion at Brighton, and consequently into the highest society of the country, for which his agreeable manners, his amiable disposition, and his attainments admirably qualified him. His fortune was sufficiently large for all his wants, but, unfortunately, as it turned out, the House of Commons voted to him as the representative of his father, one hundred thousand pounds, which he was desirous of laying out to advantage. A fine opportunity, as he imagined, had presented itself to him, for in travelling in the diligence from Lyon to Paris, a journey then requiring three days, he met a charming widow, who told a tale that had not only a wonderful effect upon his susceptible heart, but upon his amply filled purse. She said her husband, who had been the proprietor of one of the finest estates in the neighbourhood of Bordeaux, was just dead, and that she was on her way to Paris to sell the property, that it might be divided according to the laws of France amongst the family. Owing, however, to the absolute necessity of forcing a sale, that which was worth an enormous sum would realise one quarter only of its value. She described the property as one admirably fitted for the production of wine, that it was in fact the next estate to the Chateau Lafite, and would prove a fortune to any capitalist. The fascinations of this lady, and the temptation of enormous gain to the speculator, impelled the gallant colonel to offer his services to relieve her from her embarrassment. And by the time the diligence arrived in Paris, he had become the proprietor of a fine domain, which was soon irrevocably fixed on him by the lady's notary in return for a large sum of money. Which, had the colonel proved a man of business, would no doubt have been amply repaid, and might have become the source of great wealth. Palmer, however, conscious of his inability, looked around him for an active agent, and believed he had found one in a Mr. Gray, a man of captivating manners and good connections, but almost as useless a person as the general himself. Fully confident in his own abilities, Gray had already been concerned in many speculations, not one of which had ever succeeded, but all had led to the demolition of large fortunes. Plausible in his address, and possessing many of those superficial qualities that pleased the multitude, he appeared to be able to secure for the claret, which was the production of the estate, a large clientele. Palmer's claret, under his auspices, began to be talked of in the clubs, and the bon vivant was anxious to secure a quantity of this highly prized wine. The patronage of the Prince Regent was considered essential, who, with his egotistical good nature, and from a kindly feeling for Palmer, gave a dinner at Carlton House, when a fair trial was to be given to his claret. A select circle of gastronomes was to be present, amongst whom was Lord Yarmouth, well known in those days by the appellation of red herrings from his rubrican whiskers, hair and face, and from the town of Yarmouth, deriving its principal support from the importation from Holland of that fish. Sir Benjamin Bloomfield, Sir William Knighton, and Sir Thomas Turwitt were also of the party. The wine was produced and was found excellent, and the spirits of the party ran high, the light wine animating them without intoxication. The Prince was delighted, and as usual upon such occasions told some of his best stories, quoted Shakespeare, and was particularly happy upon the bouquet of the wine, as suited to the Holy Palmer's kiss. Lord Yarmouth alone sat in moody silence, and on being questioned as to the cause, replied that whenever he dined at his royal highness's table, he drank a claret which he much preferred, that which was furnished by Carbonelle. The Prince immediately ordered a bottle of this wine, and to give them an opportunity of testing the difference, he desired that some anchovies sandwiches should be served up. Carbonelle's wine was placed upon the table. It was a claret made expressly for the London market, well dashed with ermitage, and infinitely more to the taste of the Englishman than the delicately flavoured wine they had been drinking. The banquet terminated in the Prince declaring his own wine superior to that of Palmer's, and suggesting that he should try some experiments on his estate to obtain a better wine. Palmer came from Carleton House much mortified. On Sir Thomas Turwitt attempting to console him, and saying that it was the anchovies that had spoiled the taste of the connoisseurs, the general said loudly enough to be heard by Lord Yarmouth, No, it was the confounded red herrings. A duel was very nearly the consequence. General Palmer, feeling it his duty to follow the advice of the Prince, rooted out his old vines, planted new ones, tried all sorts of experiments at an immense cost, but with little or no result. He and his agent in consequence got themselves into all sorts of difficulties, mortgaged the property, borrowed largely, and were at last obliged to have recourse to usurers, to life assurances, to every sort of expedient to raise money. The theatre at Bath was sold, the reform in Parliament robbed him of his seat, and at last he and his agent became ruined men. A subscription would have been raised to relieve him, but he preferred ending his days in poverty to living upon the bounty of his friends. He sold his commission and was plunged in the deepest distress, while the accumulation of debt to the usurers became so heavy that he was compelled to pass through the insolvent court. Thus ended the career of a man who had been courted in society, idolised in the army, and figured as a legislator for many years. His friends, of course, fell off, and he was to be seen a mendicant in the streets of London, shunned where he once was adored. Gray, his agent, became equally involved, but marrying a widow with some money he was enabled to make a better fight. Eventually, however, he became a prey to the moneylender, and his life ended under circumstances distressing to those who had known him in early days. Monk Lewis One of the most agreeable men of the day was Monk Lewis. As the author of The Monk and the Tales of Wonder, he not only found his way into the best circles, but had gained a high reputation in the literary world. His poetic talent was undoubted, and he was intimately connected with Walter Scott in his ballad researches. His Alonso the Brave and the Fair Imogen was recited at the theatres, and wherever he went he found a welcome reception. His West Indian fortune and connections, and his seat in Parliament, gave him access to all the aristocratic circles, from which, however, he was banished upon the appearance of the fourth and last dialogue of the pursuits of literature. Had a thunderbolt fallen upon him he could not have been more astonished than he was by the onslaught of Mr. Mathias, which led to his ostracism from fashionable society. It is not for me to appreciate the value of this satirical poem which created such an extraordinary sensation, not only in the fashionable, but in the political world. I, however, remember that whilst at Cannings, at the Bishop of London's and at Giffords, it was pronounced the most classical and spirited production that had ever issued from the press. It was held up at Lord Holland's, at the Marquis of Landstowns, and at Brooks's, as one of the most spiteful and ill-natured satires that had ever disgraced the literary world, and one which no talent or classic law could ever redeem. Certain it is that Mathias fell foul of poor Monk Louis for his romance. Obsenity and blasphemy with the charges laid at his door. He was acknowledged to be a man of genius and fancy, but this added only to his crime, to which was super-added that of being a very young man. The charges brought against him cooled his friends and heated his enemies. The young ladies were forbidden to speak to him. Matrons even feared him. And from being one of the idols of the world he became one of the objects of its disdain. Even his father was led to believe that his son had abandoned the paths of virtue and was on the high road to ruin. Monk Louis, unable to stand against the outcry thus raised against him, determined to try the effects of absence and took his departure for the island in which his property was. But unfortunately for those who dissented from the ferocious judgment that was passed upon him and for those who had discrimination enough to know that after all there was nothing very objectionable in his romance and felt assured that posterity would do him justice this amiable and kind-hearted man died on his passage out leaving a blank in one variety of literature which has never been filled up. The denunciation was not followed by any other severe criticism but editors have, in compliance with the insinuations of messiahs omitted the passages which he pointed out as objectionable so that the original text his seldom met with. Monk Louis had a black servant affectionately attached to his master but so ridiculously did this servant repeat his master's expressions that he became the laughing stock of all his master's friends. Brummel used often to raise a hearty laugh at Carlton House by repeating witticisms which he pretended to have heard from Louis's servant. Some of these were very stale yet they were considered so good as to be repeated at the clubs greatly adding to the reputation of the beau as a teller of good things. On one occasion, said Brummel, I called to inquire after a young lady who had sprained her ankle. Louis, on being asked how she was, had said in the black's presence the doctor had seen her put her legs straight and the poor chicken is doing well. The servant therefore told me with a mysterious and knowing look. Oh, sir, the doctor has been here. She has laid eggs and she and the chickens are doing well. Such extravagances in those days were received as the essence of witt and to such stories did the public give a willing ear repeating them with unwavering zest. Even Sheridan's wit partook of this character making him the delight of the prince who ruled over the fashionable world and whose approbation was sufficient to give currency to anything however ludicrous and absurd. Sir Thomas Turton There is a pleasure in recalling to memory even the schoolboy pranks of men who make a figure in the world. The career of Turton promised to be a brilliant one and had he not offended against the moral feeling of the country and lost his position he would have mounted to the highest step in the ladder of fortune. At Eaton he showed himself a dashing and daring boy and was looked upon by Dr. Goodall, the then headmaster as one of his best classical scholars. By his school fellows he was even more highly regarded being the acknowledged cock of the school. Amongst the qualities that endeared him to them was a fearlessness which led him into dangers and difficulties from which his pluck only could extricate him. He was a determined poacher, not one of the skulking class but of a daring that led him to exert his abilities in Windsor Park itself where he contrived to bag game in spite of the watchfulness of the keepers and the surveillance of the well-paid watchers of the night. On one occasion, however, by some unlucky chance tidings of his successes reached the ears of the royal gamekeeper who formed a plan by which to entrap him and so nearly were they pouncing upon Turton that he was obliged to take to his heels and fly carrying with him a hair which he had caught. The keepers followed close upon his heels until they came to the Thames into which Turton plunged and still holding his prize by his teeth swam to the other side, to the astonishment and dismay of his pursuers who had no inclination for a cold bath. Their mortification was great at seeing Turton safely landed on the other side. He reached the college in safety and the hair served for the enjoyment of merry friends. Turton's history in afterlife I will not pursue but must express my regret that he threw away golden opportunities of showing his love for classic law and his ability to meet the difficulties of life in the same bold way in which he swam the Thames and baffled the Windsor gamekeepers. George Smythe, the late Lord Strangford This is another friend to whom I am pleased to pay the tribute of a reminiscence and who, if he was not as well known as most of those I have spoken of was yet highly prized by many of the most distinguished persons and formed one of a circle that had great influence in England. Being the son of the well-known Lord Strangford, the translator of Camus he had a first place in aristocratic society and had he not given himself up to indulgences and amusements might have reached the rank of statesman. The late Lord Strangford was distinguished by those external qualifications which are everywhere acceptable, his manners were polished and easy, his conversation elegant and witty, and these added to great personal attractions gave him a charm which was generally felt. Disraeli, Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton and the leading men of the day were his associates. When Lord Aberdeen became Minister for Foreign Affairs he selected George Smythe as Undersecretary in which capacity he acquitted himself with great ability. He could not, however, act under Lord Palmerston and rather than do so gave up his position. He did not long survive but died very young just as he was beginning to learn the value of his rare abilities and had ascertained how best they might have been of use to his country. The Honourable George Tolbert I have a very vivid recollection of George Tolbert, a brother of the late Earl of Shrewsbury and who was a fashionable man about town of whom there are many anecdotes in circulation. The only one that took my fancy was related to me in Paris where he was, as usual, in the midst of the gayest of the gay, recklessly spending his money, and often times resorting for resources to the gambling table where at last he was thoroughly pigeoned. Tolbert had tried in vain all the usual means of recruiting his empty purse. Being a Roman Catholic like most of the members of one of the oldest families in Great Britain he was a regular attendant upon the ceremonies of his church and acquainted with all the clergy in Paris. So he took the resolution of going to his confessor unburdening his conscience and at the same time seeking counsel from the Holy Father as to the best way of raising the wind. After entering minutely into his condition and asking the priest how he could find funds to pay his debts and take him home the confessor seemed touched by his tale of woe and after much apparent consideration recommended him to trust in providence. Tolbert seemed struck with such sensible advice and promised to call again in a few days. This second visit was made in due course he again mourned over his condition and requested the priest's advice and assistance. His story was listened to as before with much commiseration but he was again recommended to trust in providence. Tolbert came away quite crestfallen and evidently with little hope of any immediate relief. After the lapse of a few days however he appeared again before his confessor apparently much elated and invited the worthy abbay to dine with him at the Rocher du Cancal. This invitation was gladly accepted the Holy Father not doubting but that he should have all the delicacies in the land to which in common with the rest of the clergy he had no objection nor was he disappointed. The dinner was Rochercher the best the establishment could furnish was placed before them and most heartily and lovingly did the worthy abbay devote himself to what was offered. At the end of the repast the Cartapayet was duly furnished but what was the astonishment of the reverend guest when Tolbert declared that his purse was completely oh-sec and that it had been a long time empty but that upon this occasion as upon all others he trusted, as the abbay had advised him in providence. The abbay Péchéran recovering from his surprise and being of a kind and generous disposition laughed heartily at Tolbert's impudence and feeling that he had deserved this rebuke pulled out his purse, paid for the dinner and did what he should have done at first wrote to the members of Tolbert's family and obtained for him such assistance as enabled him to quit Paris and return home where he afterwards led a more sober life. End of section 8 Recording by Ruth Golding