Passages from the Life of a Philosopher

locks and tools; a few were related to the Fine Arts. The whole party seemed much pleased; the young Princes par­tic­u­lar­ly took a great interest in them, whereat the General was highly gratified. Before his young pupils retired, I took the General aside and inquired whether it was consistent with their customs that I should present to each of his two pupils one of the various (but in a pecuniary sense trifling) articles which they had examined. I was glad to find that I might be permitted to leave behind me two little souvenirs of a most agreeable day. The whole party, with the exception of General de Salluce, had now retired. We walked up and down the room together for some time, conversing upon the success of the meeting. My excellent friend was justly delighted with the intelligent inquiries made by his pupils. I thought I now perceived a favourable opportunity of ascertaining the cause of the Queen’s absence. After some kind expression towards me, I suddenly stopped, {305} and, looking inquiringly into his countenance, said, “Now, General, just before this very agreeable party met you went to invite the Queen, and you returned and then told me the official. Now pray do tell me the real.” 〈THE REASON EXPLAINED.〉 The surprise of the General was certainly great, but, with a most agreeable smile, he immediately consented. It appears that its history was thus. The General went to the Queen’s apartments and asked, through her lord-in-waiting, to be permitted to see her Majesty. This request was immediately granted. The General then informed the Queen that amongst the things her sons were going to see were several which might, perhaps, interest her Majesty. The Queen said she would accompany her sons, and then directed her own lord-in-waiting to go and ask the King’s permission. Accordingly the Queen’s lord-in-waiting went to the King’s apartments, and found that he was sitting in Council. He proceeded to the ante-room of the Council-chamber, and there found the King’s lord-in-waiting, to whom he communicated his mission. The King’s lord-in-waiting then informed the Queen’s lord-in-waiting that important news47 had just arrived, and that a special council had been called; that of course he was ready to convey the Queen’s message immediately, but he suggested whether, under these circumstances, the Queen would wish it. 47 The Syrian question. The Queen’s lord-in-waiting now returned to her Majesty for further in­struc­tions. Of course the Queen, like a good wife, at once gave up the intention of accompanying her sons in their interview with the phi­los­o­pher. I felt much regret at this disappointment. The Queen of Sardinia was the sister of the Grand Duke of Tuscany (Leopold II.), from whom I had, many years before, {306} when under severe affliction from the loss of a large portion of my family, received the most kind and gratifying attention. 〈THE WOVEN PORTRAIT.〉 On my road to Turin I had passed a few days at Lyons, in order to examine the silk man­u­fac­ture. I was specially anxious to see the loom in which that admirable specimen of fine art, the portrait of Jacquard, was woven. I passed many hours in watching its progress. I possessed one copy, which had been kindly given to me by a friend; but as I had proposed to visit Florence after the meeting at Turin, I wished to procure another copy to present to the Grand Duke of Tuscany. These beautiful productions were not made for sale; but, as a favour, I was allowed to purchase one of them. Whilst the General was giving me this illustration of Court etiquette, it occurred to me that the silken engraving would be an appropriate offering to a lady. I therefore again asked my friend whether, consistently with the usages of the country, I might be permitted to offer the engraving to the Queen. The sudden change of his countenance from gay to grave was very remarkable. I feared I had proposed something of the most unusual kind. The General then slowly replied, “I will take the King’s pleasure on the subject.” Two days after the General informed me that the King would give me an audience the next day, in order that I might ask permission to present the woven engraving to the Queen. Accordingly, at the appointed hour, I went to the palace with the large cartoon-case containing the portrait of Jacquard.48 On being admitted into the presence of the King, I placed the case upon a sofa, and, opening it carefully, {307} unfolded the woven portrait from a crowd of sheets of silver paper of the most ethereal lightness. I then placed it in his Majesty’s hands. The King examined it minutely on both sides, inquired about its structure, and appeared much pleased at the sight. 48 The dimensions were 2 ft. 8 in. by 2 ft. 2 in. 〈A FLIGHT OF BUTTERFLIES.〉 I now went over to replace the engraving in its travelling-carriage. The instant it approached its paper case a multitude of sheets of silver paper were disturbed in their snug repose, and forthwith flew up into the air. I made many ineffectual efforts to catch these runaways. The King most condescendingly came to my assistance, took the portrait out of my hands, and endeavoured himself to replace it in its nest, whilst I was attempting to catch the flying covey. But these volatile papers had no proper respect even for royalty. The quires of silver paper which had remained in the case now came out in all directions, whether to do honour to the King by rising to receive him, or to recall their flighty sisters to their deserted couch I know not; but somehow or other both the King and myself were on the floor upon our knees, having secured some few of the fallen angels, whilst a cloud of others, still on the wing, continually eluded our grasp. At last I gave up the idea of grabbing at the flying sheets, and confined my attention to seizing on the fallen ones. While still on my knees, I suddenly felt an obstacle presented to my right foot. On looking round I perceived that the heel of royalty had come into contact with the toe of philosophy. A comic yet kindly smile beamed upon the countenance of the King, whilst an irrepressible but not irreverent one, lightened up my own. The whole army of butterflies being at last captured, and {308} the engraving replaced, the King entered into a conversation with me upon various subjects. 〈THE VINTAGE AT RACONIGI.〉 The processes of wine-making then became the subject of conversation. I believe I may have observed incidentally in reply to some question, that my information was only derived from books, as I had not had an opportunity of seeing any of its processes. About a week after this, one of the officers of the household called upon me, and told me that the vintage of Raconigi, one of the King’s beautiful domains, at about a dozen miles from Turin, would commence in the following week; that he was commanded by his Majesty, in case I should wish to examine the processes, to inform me of the circumstance, and to accompany me for the purpose of explaining them—a mission, he was so kind as to add, which would personally be highly gratifying to himself. I willingly accepted this most agreeable proposition, and the day was fixed upon. At an early hour my friend was at my door in one of the royal carriages. The weather was magnificent, and we drove through a beautiful country. On arriving at the vineyard we found several of the processes in full operation. Each in succession was explained; and after spending a most instructive morning, we found an excellent dinner prepared for us at the palace, where I had the pleasure of meeting General ——, who presided, and who had spent several years in England. On our return in the evening I observed a dragoon apparently accompanying the carriage. At first I took it for granted that his road happened to be the same as ours; but after a mile or two had been passed over, seeing him still close to us, I inquired of my companion if he knew whither the soldier was going. It then appeared that he had been sent by the General as a complimentary escort. {309} However gratified I felt by this attention, I still was quite uncomfortable at the idea of having a man galloping after our carriage for ten miles. I therefore appealed to my friend to suspend this unnecessary loss of vis viva. With some reluctance the dragoon was exempted from further attendance upon the phi­los­o­pher. Shortly before I left Turin, one of my Italian friends remarked, with evident feelings of pride and sat­is­fac­tion, upon the attentions I had received from his sovereign. “The King, he observed, has done three things for you, which are very unusual— “He has shaken hands with you. “He has asked you to sit down at an audience. “He has permitted you to make a present to the Queen. This last,” he added, “is the rarest of all.” 〈AUDIENCE TO TAKE LEAVE.〉 Two days before my departure from Turin, I had an audience, to take leave of his Majesty. The King inquired in what direction I intended to travel homeward. I mentioned my intention of taking the mail to Geneva, because it traversed a most remarkable suspension-bridge over a deep ravine. The span of this bridge, which is named, after the king, Pont Charles Albert, is six hundred French feet, and the depth of the chasm over which it is suspended is also six hundred French feet. The King immediately opened a drawer, and, taking out a small bronze medal, struck to celebrate the opening of the bridge, presented it to me. I now took the opportunity of expressing to the King my gratitude for the many and kind attentions I had received from his subjects, and more especially for the honour he had himself recently done me by sending one of his ministers officially to convey to me his Majesty’s high approbation of my conduct. {310} The King then entered upon another course of inquiry, more immediately connected with his government. I had on several occasions, when a favourable opportunity presented itself, drawn the King’s attention to the doctrine of free trade—a subject on which he evidently felt a great desire to be informed. The questions put to me, though necessary for assisting the King to arrive at right conclusions, were of such a nature that I considered them confidential, and therefore forbear to relate them. Two days after I started by the mail for Geneva. I shared the Coupé of the Malle Poste with the courier, a very intelligent officer. On mentioning my wish to see the celebrated bridge, he informed me that he was already aware of my wishes, and that he had received orders to detain the mail a quarter of an hour, that I might have a good opportunity of seeing it. 〈THE PONT CHARLES ALBERT.〉 The scene which presented itself on my approach to the Pont Charles Albert was singularly grand. We had been driving for some time along a road skirting the edge of an immense chasm, six hundred and forty English feet in depth. The opposite side was hid from our view by a mist which hung over it. At the next bend in the road a portion of the bridge suddenly became visible to us. It appeared to spring from a massive pier on which the chains on our side of the ravine rested. The bridge itself was nearly level, and was visible for about three-quarters only of its length as it traversed the valley far beneath it. The termination of the ascending portion of the chains on the further pier, and that part of the bridge itself, were completely concealed by the mist.