Code Of The West

Featured on alibris.com
( 4.5/5.0 ★ | 424 downloads )
-- Click the link to download --

https://click.linksynergy.com/link?id=*C/UgjGtUZ8&offerid=1494105.26
539780253313874&type=15&murl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibris.com%2Fsearch%2
Fbooks%2Fisbn%2F9780253313874
Code Of The West

ISBN: 9780253313874
Category: Media > Books
File Fomat: PDF, EPUB, DOC...
File Details: 9.8 MB
Language: English
Website: alibris.com
Short description: Very Good Size: 9x6x0;

DOWNLOAD: https://click.linksynergy.com/link?id=*C/UgjGtUZ8&
offerid=1494105.26539780253313874&type=15&murl=http%3A%2F%2F
www.alibris.com%2Fsearch%2Fbooks%2Fisbn%2F9780253313874
 Code Of The West

• Click the link: https://click.linksynergy.com/link?id=*C/UgjGtUZ8&offerid=1494105.2653978025331387

4&type=15&murl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibris.com%2Fsearch%2Fbooks%2Fisbn%2F9780253313874 to do
latest version of Code Of The West in multiple formats such as PDF, EPUB, and more.

• Don’t miss the chance to explore our extensive collection of high-quality resources, books, and guides on
our website. Visit us regularly to stay updated with new titles and gain access to even more valuable
materials.
.
 In February 1840, Count Léon came over to London, it being absurdly
stated afterward that he had been entrusted by the Tuileries with the
pleasing duty of removing Louis Napoleon.
The Prince refused to receive the Count, from whom after some
heated correspondence he received a challenge, borne by Lieutenant-
Colonel Ratcliffe. Léon refused to engage with swords, so pistols were
decided upon; the hour chosen being seven o’clock on the morning of
3rd March, and the place Wimbledon Common. Napoleon was
accompanied by D’Orsay and Colonel Parquin. It was not until the
parties were on the ground that Count Léon raised the difficulty about
the weapons to be used, and the delay caused by the discussion on the
point gave time to the authorities to arrive and put an end to the
contemplated breach of the peace. The upshot of this fiasco was an
appearance at Bow Street. Before the Court proceeded to deal with the
ordinary night charges, Prince Louis and Count Léon were charged
before Mr Jardine with having attempted a breach of the peace by
fighting a duel; Ratcliffe, Parquin, D’Orsay, and Martial Kien, a servant,
were brought in as being aiders and abettors. They were all “bound
over,” Mr Joshua Bates, of Baring Brothers, becoming surety for Prince
Louis and Colonel Parquin, and the Honourable Francis Baring for
D’Orsay. So ended the encounter.
On January 13th, 1841, Napoleon wrote from Ham to Lady
Blessington, in reply to a letter from her:—
“I am very grateful for your remembrance, and I think with grief that
none of your previous letters have reached me. I have received from
Gore House only one letter, from Count d’Orsay, which I hastened to
answer when I was at the Conciergerie. I bitterly regret that my letter
was intercepted, for in it I expressed all the gratitude at the interest he
took in my misfortunes.… My thoughts often wander to the place where
you live, and I recall with pleasure the time I have passed in your
amiable society, which the Count d’Orsay still brightens with his frank
and spirituel gaiety.”
On the 26th of May 1846, there was gathered together a gay dinner-
party at Gore House, among those assembled, beside the host and
hostess, being Landor and John Forster. A message was brought in to
D’Orsay that a person, who preferred not to give his name, desired to
see him. To the amazement of D’Orsay the unknown turned out to be
Louis Napoleon, just landed after his escape from Ham. He came in and
entertained the party with a vivacious account of his adventures.
Serjeant Ballantine describes a curious visit paid to him at his
chambers in June 1847 by Louis Napoleon and D’Orsay, which certainly
strengthens the statements made by others that the dandy was upon
very intimate terms with the prince. The visit was concerned with some
of Napoleon’s money-raising endeavours, which had resulted in his being
swindled by a rascally bill-discounter, but in which the Serjeant could not
assist to right the wrong. Ballantine dubs D’Orsay, “the prince of
dandies,” adding that he “never saw a man who in personal qualities
surpassed him”; continuing, he “was courteous to everyone, and kindly.
He put the companions of his own sex perfectly at their ease, and
delighted them with his varied conversation, and I never saw anyone
whose manner to ladies was more pleasing and deferential.”
Louis Philippe toppled over; a Republic was set up in February 1848,
and Napoleon promptly and effectively took advantage of the situation
thus created to push himself to the front. In December of the same year
he was elected President. The oath that he swore on the occasion was:
“In the presence of God and before the French people represented by
the National Assembly, I swear to remain faithful to the Democratic
Republic, one and indivisible, and to fulfil all the duties imposed on me
by the Constitution.” And on the 2nd of December 1851, he dissolved
the said Assembly, upset the Republic, and shortly became Napoleon III,
Emperor of the French.
Among Napoleon’s English advisers was Albany Fonblanque, who
through D’Orsay sent him some suggestions as to the policy it would be
wise for the President of the French Republic to pursue. How far that
advice promised to produce fruit, the following letter shows:—

“Gore House, 26th January 1849.

“Mon Cher Fonblanque,—J’espère que vous avez vu que
notre conseil à été écouté; les réductions dans l’armée et
la marine sont très fortes, et Napoleon à éprouvé, je vous
assure, une grande opposition pour en arriver là. L’armée,
qui était en 1845 de 502,196 hommes et de 100, 432
 horses, sera réduite en 1849 à 380,824 hommes et
92,410 chevaux. Le Budget de la Marine est diminué de
vingt deux millions et plus; la flotte en activité est réduite
à dix vaisseaux de ligne, huit frégates, etc.—et il y a aussi
une grande réduction dans les travaux des arsenaux. Tout
cela devrait plaire à John Bull et à Cobden. Je vous
promets que ces réductions n’en resteront pas là; mais il
faut considérer la difficulté qu’il y a de toucher aux
joujoux des enfants français, car chez nous l’armée est
l’objet principal; chez vous ce n’est qu’un accessoire.
Votre affectionné,
“D’Orsay.”

Madden, in his description of this “man-mystery,” for once in a way is

graphic. “I watched his pale, corpse-like, imperturbable features, not
many months since, for a period of three hours. I saw eighty thousand
men in arms pass before him, and I never observed a change in his
countenance or an expression in his look which would enable the
bystander to say whether he was pleased or otherwise at the stirring
scene.… He did not speak to those around him, except at very long
intervals, and then with an air of nonchalance, of ennui and eternal
occupation with self; he rarely spoke a syllable to his uncle, Jérôme
Bonaparte, who was on horseback somewhat behind him.… He gave me
the idea of a man who had a perfect reliance on himself, and a feeling of
complete control over those around him. But there was a weary look
about him, an aspect of excessive watchfulness, an appearance of want
of sleep, of over-work, of over-indulgence, too, that gives an air of
exhaustion to face and form, and leaves an impression on the mind of a
close observer that the machine of the body will break down soon, and
suddenly—or the mind will give way—under the pressure of pent-up
thoughts and energies eternally in action, and never suffered to be
observed or noticed by friends or followers.”
 Napoleon III

(By D’Orsay)

[TO FACE PAGE 206

Louis Napoleon is, as everybody knows, the Colonel Albert who plays
so large a part in Lord Beaconsfield’s unjustly neglected Endymion, quite
one of the most delightful of his novels, although it contains that
strange caricature of Thackeray in the grotesque personage of St Barbe.
Says “Colonel Albert”:—“… I am the child of destiny. That destiny will
again place me on the throne of my fathers. That is as certain as I am
now speaking to you. But destiny for its fulfilment ordains action. Its
decrees are inexorable, but they are obscure, and the being whose
career it directs is as a man travelling in a dark night; he reaches his
goal even without the aid of stars and moon.”
Louis Napoleon emerged from the dark night of his exile and sat in
the limelight that beats upon a throne, and he achieved his destiny
without accepting the aid or advice of his friend, D’Orsay. He did not
trust the latter with his counsels and could scarcely have been expected
to ask him to accompany him to France. D’Orsay would have been the
central figure; the Prince of the Dandies would have basked in the
popularity which the future Emperor of the French knew he must focus
upon himself.
After his escape to London from Ham, Louis Napoleon, however, does
seem to have consulted with D’Orsay, and acting upon his advice to
have written to the French Ambassador to the Court of St James, stating
that it was his intention to settle down quietly as a private individual;
which statement was doubtless taken for what it was worth. D’Orsay
may have helped, also, toward Napoleon’s election as President by
interesting friends in his cause, but of the schemes upon the empty
imperial throne D’Orsay appears to have been ignorant. Indeed, he went
so far as to express his opinion of the coup d’état, that “it is the greatest
political swindle that ever has been practised in the world!”
The following letter to Landor from Lady Blessington is interesting:—

“Gore House, 28th February 1848.

“I will not admit that the eruption of the Parisian
volcano has brought out only cinders from your brain, au
contraire, the lava is glowing and full of fire—your honest
indignation has been ignited and has sent forth a bright
flame.
“It gave me great pleasure to see your handwriting
again, for I had thought it long since I had heard from
you. I saw it stated to-day in the Daily News that Count
d’Orsay had set out for Paris with Prince Louis. This report
is wholly untrue. Prince Louis has gone to Paris alone.
 Here no one pities Louis Philippe, nor has the report of his
death mitigated the indignation excited against him. His
family are to be pitied, for I believe they were not
implicated in his crooked policy. Seldom has vengeance so
rapidly overtaken guilt.”

Still more interesting this from Landor to Lady Blessington, written

about a year later, on 9th January 1849—

“Possibly you may never have seen the two articles I

enclose. I inserted in the Examiner another, deprecating
the anxieties which a truly patriotic and, in my opinion, a
singularly wise man, was about to encounter, in accepting
the Presidency of France. Necessity will compel him to
assume the Imperial Power, to which the voice of the
army and people will call him.
“You know (who know not only my writings, but my
heart) how little I care for station. I may therefore tell you
safely, that I feel a great interest, a great anxiety, for the
welfare of Louis Napoleon. I told him if ever he were
again in prison, I would visit him there; but never, if he
were upon a throne, would I come near him. He is the
only man living who would adorn one, but thrones are my
aversion and abhorrence. France, I fear, can exist in no
other condition. Her public men are greatly more able
than ours, but they have less integrity. Every Frenchman
is by nature an intriguer. It was not always so, to the
same extent; but nature is modified, and even changed,
by circumstances. Even garden statues take their form
from clay.
“God protect the virtuous Louis Napoleon, and prolong
in happiness the days of my dear, kind friend, Lady
Blessington.
“W. S. L.”
 “I wrote a short letter to the President, and not of
congratulation. May he find many friends as disinterested
and sincere.”

Wellington also judged Napoleon’s rise to power in France as

propitious, and wrote to D’Orsay on 9th April 1849:—“Je me réjouis de
la prospérité de la France et du succès de M. le Président de la
République. Tout tend vers la permanence de la paix de l’Europe qui est
nécessaire pour le bonheur de chacun. Votre ami très devoué.
“Wellington.”
Though D’Orsay was not Napoleon’s active ally, he watched his
progress with interest, and, despite the opinion he held of the means
employed, apparently with approbation also up to a point. To Madden on
the first day of the Presidential election, a Sunday—but really we must
here have Madden’s own words:—“He came to my house before church-
time, and diverted me from graver duties, to listen to his confident
anticipations of the result of that memorable day. ‘Think,’ said he, ‘what
is the ordinary November weather in Paris: and here is a beautiful day. I
have watched the mercury in my garden. I have seen where is the wind,
and I tell you, that on Paris is what they will call the sun of Austerlitz.
To-morrow you shall hear that, while we are now talking, they vote for
him with almost one mind, and that he has the absolute majority.’”
And later, he wrote to Richard Lane, the artist: “Rely upon it, he will
do more for France than any sovereign has done for the last two
centuries, if only they give him time.”
Even previous to this exciting period, at the time of the Boulogne
descent, Lady Blessington was shedding ink in the defence of D’Orsay;
writing to Henry Bulwer:—

“Gore House, 17th September 1840.

“I am never surprised at evil reports, however
unfounded, still less so at any acts of friendship and
manliness on your part.… Alfred is at Doncaster, but he
charges me to authorise you to contradict, in the most
positive terms, the reports about his having participated
 in, or even known, of the intentions of the Prince Louis.
Indeed, had he suspected them, he would have used
every effort in his power to dissuade him from putting
them into execution. Alfred, as well as I, entertain the
sincerest regard for the Prince, with whom, for fourteen
years, we have been on terms of intimacy; but of his
plans we knew no more than you did. Alfred by no means
wishes to conceal his attachment to the Prince, and still
less that any exculpation of himself should in any way
reflect on him; but who so well as you, whose tact and
delicacy are equal to your good-nature, can fulfil the
service to Alfred that we require?
“Lady C⸺ [15] writes to me that I, too, am mixed up
in the reports. But I defy the malice of my greatest
enemy to prove that I ever dreamt of the Prince’s
intentions or plans.”

Both D’Orsay and Lady Blessington had to do with Napoleon as

Emperor.
D’Orsay, to a certain extent, tried to run both with the fox and with
the hounds, for, in 1841, an attempt was made to procure for him the
appointment of Secretary to the French Embassy in London. The Count
St Aulaire was then Ambassador, and much influence was brought to
bear upon him in this matter.
Among Lady Blessington’s papers was found the following
memorandum by her, which throws considerable light upon this affair:—

“With regard to the intentions relative to our Count,

there is not even a shadow of truth in them. Alfred never
was presented here at Court, and never would, though I,
as well as his other friends, urged it: his motive (for
declining) being, never having left his name at any of the
French Ambassadors of Louis Philippe (not even at Count
Sebastiani’s, a connection of his own) or at Marshal
Soult’s, also nearly connected with his family, he could not
ask to be presented at Court by the French Ambassador,
and did not think it right to be presented by anyone else
… and the etiquette of not having been engaged to meet
the Queen, unless previously presented at Court, is too
well known to admit of any mistake.… I enter into these
details merely to show the utter falsehoods which have
been listened to against Alfred. Now with regard to his
creditors, his embarrassments have been greatly
exaggerated; and when the sale of the northern estates
in Ireland shall have been effected, which must be within
a year, he will be released from all his difficulties.[16] In
the meantime he has arranged matters, by getting time
from his creditors. So that all the fuss made by the
nomination, being only sought as a protection from them,
falls to the ground.… I mention all these facts to show
how ill Alfred has been treated. If the appointment in
London is still deemed impracticable, why should not they
offer him the secretaryship at Madrid, which is vacant?
“Alfred entrusted the affair (of the appointment) to M
⸺ and W⸺. He received positive assurances from
both that he would receive an appointment in the French
Embassy here, and that it was only necessary, as a mere
matter of etiquette, that St Aulaire was to ask for his
nomination to have it granted. The assurances were so
positive that he could not doubt them, and he accordingly
acted on them. The highest eulogies on Alfred’s abilities
and power of rendering service to the French Government
were voluntarily pronounced to St Aulaire by Lord B⸺,
the Duke of B⸺, and other persons of distinction. M. St
Aulaire, not satisfied with these honourable testimonies,
consulted a coterie of foolish women, and listening to
their malicious gossiping, he concluded that the
nomination would not be popular in London, and so was
afraid to ask for it.
“It now appears that the Foreign Office at Paris is an
inquisition into the private affairs of those who have the
 misfortune to have any reference to it; a bad plan when
clever men are so scarce in France, and particularly those
well-born and well-connected: a Government like the
present should be glad to catch any such that could be
had.
“Margt. Blessington.”

To which may be added a letter from Henry Bulwer to Lady

Blessington, written in December 1841:—

“My Dear Lady Blessington,—I think D’Orsay wrong in

these things you refer to: to have asked for London
especially, and not to have informed me[17] how near the
affair was to its maturity when St Aulaire went to the D.
of B⸺’s, because I might then have prepared opinion
for it here; whereas, I first heard the affair mentioned in a
room, where I had to contend against every person
present, when I stated what I think—that the
appointment would have been a very good one. But it
does not now signify talking about the matter, and saying
that I should have wished our friend to have given the
matter rather an air of doing a favour than of asking one.
It is right to say that he has acted most honourably,
delicately, and in a way which ought to have served him,
though, perhaps, it is not likely to do so. The French
Ambassador did not, I think, wish for the nomination. M.
Guizot, I imagine, is, at this moment, afraid of anything
that might excite discussion and opposition, and it is idle
to disguise from you that D’Orsay, both in England and
here, has many enemies. The best service I can do him is
by continuing to speak of him as I have done amongst
influential persons, viz., as a man whom the Government
would do well to employ; and my opinion is, that if he
continues to wish for and to seek employment, he will
obtain it in the end. But I don’t think he will obtain the
situation he wished for in London, and I think it may be
 some little time before he gets such a one as he ought to
have, and that would suit him. The Secretaryship in Spain
would be an excellent thing, and I would aid the Marshal
in anything he might do or say respecting it. I shall be
rather surprised, however, if the present man is recalled.
Well do not let D’Orsay lose courage. Nobody succeeds in
these things just at the moment he desires: ⸺, with his
position here” (speaking of a French nobleman), “has
been ten years getting made an ambassador, and at last
is so by a fortunate chance. Remember also how long it
was, though I was in Parliament, and had some little
interest, before I was myself fairly launched in the
diplomatic career. Alfred has all the qualities for success
in anything, but he must give the same trouble and pains
to the pursuit he now engages in that he has given to
other pursuits previously. At all events, though I speak
frankly and merely what I think to him, I am here and
always a sincere and affectionate friend, and most
desirous to prove myself so.”

To Madden, Henry Bulwer expressed the opinion:—“It was altogether

a great pity D’Orsay was not employed, for he was not only fit to be so,
but to make a most useful and efficient agent, had he been appointed.”
But Governments, as well as individuals, are fallible, and often blind to
their best interests. Yet it really is difficult to understand why D’Orsay
was refused his modest request; what more distinguished ornament to
an Embassy could be desired than a splendid libertine and a man
distinguished for the vastness of his debts? Unfortunately, mediocrity
succeeds often enough when transcendent genius fails.
 XX
W. S. L.

Walter Savage Landor, who was born in 1775, lived on hale and hearty
till 1864. As he himself wrote:—

“I warm’d both hands before the fire of life;

It sinks, and I am ready to depart.”

He was, as we have seen, the very good friend of both D’Orsay and
Lady Blessington, whom he first met when he was living in Italy.
In a letter to Lady Blessington, in 1837, Landor presented her with his
autobiography in brief:—
“Walter Landor, of Ipsley Court, in the county of Warwick, married
first, Maria, only daughter and heiress of J. Wright, Esq., by whom he
had an only daughter, married to her cousin, Humphrey Arden, Esq., of
Longcroft, in Staffordshire; secondly, Elizabeth, eldest daughter and co-
heiress of Charles Savage, of Tachebrooke, who brought about eighty
thousand pounds into the family. The eldest son of this marriage, Walter
Savage Landor, was born 30th January 1775. He was educated at Rugby
—his private tutor was Dr Heath, of St Paul’s. When he had reached the
head of the school, he was too young for college, and was placed under
the private tuition of Mr Langley of Ashbourne. After a year, he was
entered at Trinity College, Oxford, where the learned Beonwell was his
private tutor. At the peace of Amiens, he went to France, but returned at
the end of the year.
“In 1808, on the first insurrection of Spain, in June he joined the
Viceroy of Gallicia, Blake. The Madrid Gazette of August mentions a gift
from him of twenty thousand reals. On the extinction of the
Constitution, he returned to Don P. Cavallos the tokens of royal
approbation, in no very measured terms. In 1811, he married Julia,
daughter of J. Thuillier de Malaperte, descendant and representative of
J. Thuillier de Malaperte, Baron de Nieuveville, first gentleman of the
bedchamber to Charles the Eighth. He was residing at Tours, when, after
the battle of Waterloo, many other Englishmen, to the number of four
thousand, went away. He wrote to Carnot that he had no confidence in
the moderation or honour of the Emperor, but resolved to stay, because
he considered the danger to be greater in the midst of a broken army. A
week afterwards, when this wretch occupied Tours, his house was the
only one without a billet. In the autumn of that year, he retired to Italy.
For seven or eight years, he occupied the Palazzo Medici, in Florence,
and then bought the celebrated villa of Count Gherardesea, at Fiesole,
with its gardens, and two farms, immediately under the ancient villa of
Lorenzo de Medici. His visits to England have been few and short.”
This is but the bare bones of a very interesting life; but its very
bluntness seems to illustrate the character of its writer, a member of the
genus irritabile, whom many hated, many loved and most men admired.
For several years he made his home at Bath, living there from 1838 to
1858, when again he retired to Italy, where he died at Florence.
He is, perhaps, best known to the world at large under the slight
disguise of Lawrence Boythorn in Bleak House.
Charles Sumner describes him thus in 1838:—“Dressed in a heavy
frock-coat of snuff colour, trousers of the same colour, and boots … with
an open countenance, firm and decided, and a head grey and inclining
to baldness … conversation … not varied, but it was animated and
energetic in the extreme. We crossed each other several times; he called
Napoleon the weakest, littlest man in history.”
Forster’s account is more vivid:—
“He was not above the middle stature, but had a short stalwart
presence, walked without a stoop, and in his general aspect, particularly
the set and carriage of his head, was decidedly of what is called a
distinguished bearing. His hair was already silvered grey, and had retired
far upward from his forehead, which wide and full but retreating, could
never in the earlier time have been seen to such advantage. What at
first was noticeable, however, in the broad white massive head, were
the full yet strangely-lifted eyebrows. In the large, grey eyes there was a
depth of compound expression that ever startled by its contrast to the
eager restlessness looking out from the surface of them; and in the
same variety and quickness of transition the mouth was extremely
striking. The lips, that seemed compressed with unalterable will would in
a moment relax to a softness more than feminine; and a sweeter smile
it was impossible to conceive.”
Carlyle says that “he was really stirring company; a proud, irascible,
trenchant, yet generous, veracious and very dignified old man; quite a
ducal or royal man in the temper of him.”
He was very frequently at Gore House, and they must have made a
curious trio, the fascinating Lady Blessington, the ducal Landor and
dandy D’Orsay.
He addressed these lines to her:—

“What language, let me think, is meet

For you, well called the Marguerite.
The Tuscan has too weak a tone,
Too rough and rigid is our own;
The Latin—no—it will not do,
The Attic is alone for you.”

Of some of his many visits here are a few notes:—

Writing Friday, 7th May 1841:—
“I did not leave my cab at Gore House gate until a quarter past six.
My kind hostess and D’Orsay were walking in the garden and never was
more cordial reception. After dinner we went to the English opera, The
Siege of Rochelle and A Day at Turin. Nothing could be worse than the
first except the second. The Hanoverian minister, very attentive to Miss
Power, a Carlist viscount, and Lord Pembroke were the only persons who
stayed any time in the box,” and on 8th May he writes again from Gore
House: “We went this evening to the German Opera. Never was music
so excellent. The pieces were A Night in Grenada and Fidelio. Madame
Schodel sings divinely, and her acting is only inferior to Pasta’s.… Both
D’Orsay and Lord Pembroke were enchanted with Madame Schodel, and
Lady B. and Miss Power, both good judges, and the latter a fine
composer, were breathless. To-night we go to the Italian Opera.”
Landor writing from Gore House in June 1842:
“We have not been to the Opera this evening, as Lord Pembroke and
the Duc de Guiche came to dinner. He is on a visit to Lord Tankerville,
but has the good taste to prefer the society he finds here, particularly
D’Orsay’s. D’Orsay was never in higher spirits or finer plumage.”
On July 20th he writes:—
“A few days after my arrival in town, the Duc de Grammont dined at
Gore House. He is on a visit to Lord Tankerville.… D’Orsay has just
finished an exquisite painting of the Duchesse.”
Then on September 7th:—
“I arrived at Gore House early on Monday. In the morning, beside
Lord Allen and some other people, there called Lord Auckland.… At
dinner the Duc de Guiche, Sir Francis Burdett and Sir Willoughby
Cotton.… Those were bright hours; even my presence could not
interrupt their brilliancy.… The Duc de Guiche left us this morning to
shoot with his cousin, Lord Ossulton.[18] We miss the liveliness of his
conversation—he talked Memoirs.”
When he was not at Gore House he kept up a very lively
correspondence with his two friends, some of which it will be useful to
quote, for in familiar letters we become almost on speaking terms with
their writers, and who of us would not be glad to chat with Lady
Blessington, Landor and D’Orsay?
This from her to him, when sending him her portrait:—

“I send you the engraving, and have only to wish that it

may sometimes remind you of the original. You are
associated in my memory with some of my happiest days;
you were the friend, and the highly-valued friend, of my
dear and lamented husband, and as such, even without
any of the numberless claims you have to my regard, you
could not be otherwise than highly esteemed. It appears
to me that I have not quite lost him, who made life dear
 to me, when I am near those he loved[19] and that knew
how to value him. Five fleeting years have gone by since
our delicious evenings on the lovely Arno, evenings never
to be forgotten, and the recollections of which ought to
cement the friendships then formed. This effect I can, in
truth, say has been produced on me, and I look forward,
with confidence, to keeping alive, by a frequent
correspondence, the friendship you owe me, no less for
that I feel for you, but as the widow of one you loved,
and that truly loved you. We, or more properly speaking
I, live in a world where friendship is little known, and
were it not for one or two individuals like yourself, I might
be tempted to exclaim with Socrates: ‘My friends, there
are no friends.’ Let us prove that the philosopher was
wrong, and if Fate has denied us the comfort of meeting,
let us by letters keep up our friendly intercourse. You will
tell me what you think and feel in your Tuscan retirement,
and I will tell you what I do, in this modern Babylon,
where thinking and feeling are almost unknown. Have I
not reason to complain that in your sojourn in London you
do not give me a single day? And yet methinks you
promised to stay a week, and that of that week I should
have my share. I rely on your promise of coming to see
me again before you leave London, and I console myself
for the disappointment of seeing so little of you, by
recollecting the welcome and the happiness that await
you at home. Long may you enjoy it, is the sincere wish
of your attached friend,
“M. Blessington.”

He to her, in the shape of “bits” out of a long letter written from

Florence in March 1835:—
“Poor Charles Lamb, what a tender, good, joyous heart had he! What
playfulness! what purity of style and thought! His sister is yet living,
much older than himself. One of her tales is, with the sole exception of
the Bride of Lammermoor, the most beautiful tale in prose composition
in any language, ancient or modern. A young girl has lost her mother,
the father marries again, and marries a friend of his former wife. The
child is ill reconciled to it, but being dressed in new clothes for the
marriage, she runs up to her mother’s chamber, filled with the idea how
happy that dear mother would be at seeing her in all her glory—not
reflecting, poor soul, that it was only by her mother’s death that she
appeared in it. How natural, how novel is all this! Did you ever imagine
that a fresh source of the pathetic would burst forth before us in this
trodden and hardened world? I never did, and when I found myself
upon it, I pressed my temples with both hands, and tears ran down to
my elbows.
“The Opium-eater calls Coleridge ‘the largest and most spacious
intellect, the subtlest and most comprehensive that has yet existed
among men.’ Impiety to Shakespeare! treason to Milton! I give up the
rest, even Bacon. Certainly, since their day, we have seen nothing at all
comparable to him. Byron and Scott were but as gun-flints to a granite
mountain; Wordsworth has one angle of resemblance; Southey has
written more, and all well, much admirably.…
“Let me add a few verses as usual:—
 ‘Pleasures—away, they please no more:
Friends—are they what they were before?
Loves—they are very idle things,
The best about them are their wings.
The dance—’tis what the bear can do;
Music—I hate your music too.
Whene’er these witnesses that time
Hath snatch’d the chaplet from our prime
And called by nature (as we go
With eyes more wary, step more slow),
And will be heard, and noted down,
However we may fret or frown;
Shall we desire to leave the scene
Where all our former joys have been?
No! ’twere ungrateful and unwise:
But when die down our charities
For human weal and human woes,
’Tis then the hour our days should close.’”

And this:—
“D’Orsay’s mind is always active. I wish it would put his pen in motion.
At this season of the year (January) I fancied he was at Melton. Does
not he lament that this bitter frost allows him no chance of breaking his
neck over gates and double hedges? Pray offer him my kind
remembrances.”
And here a chatty little note from D’Orsay:—
“It is a fact, that my brave nephew has been acting the part of
Adonis, with a sacré cochon, who nearly opened his leg;[20] his
presence of mind was great, he was on his lame leg in time to receive
the second attack of the infuriated beast, and killed him on the spot,
plunging a couteau de chasse through his heart—luckily the wild boar
had one. The romantic scene would have been complete, if there had
been another Gabrielle de Vergy looking at this modern Raoul de Courcy.
We think and speak of you often, and are in hopes that you will pay us a
visit soon. Poor Forster is ill and miserable at the loss of his brother. I
am sure that Forster is one of the best, honestest and kindest men that
ever lived. I had yesterday a letter from Eugene Sue, who is in raptures
with Macready as an actor and as a man. We saw lately that good,
warm-hearted Dickens—he spoke of you very affectionately.… —Most
affectionately,
“D’Orsay.”
 XXI
THE ARTIST

It behoves us now to pay some attention to D’Orsay’s claims as an

artist; if he had posed simply as an amateur, silence would be possible,
but he worked for money, entered the lists with other artists, and
therefore laid himself open to judgment. In his own day he was highly
thought of by many—here we have what was written of him in La Presse
on November 10th, 1850, when D’Orsay’s bust of Lamartine was
exhibited:—
“M. le comte d’Orsay est un amateur de l’art plutôt qu’un artiste. Mais
qu’est-ce qu’un amateur? C’est un volontaire parmi les artistes; ce sont
souvent les volontaires qui font les coup d’éclat dans l’atelier comme sur
les champs de bataille. Qu’est ce qu’un amateur? C’est un artiste dont le
génie seul fait la vocation. Il est vrai qu’il ne reçoit pas dans son enfance
et pendant les premières années de sa vie cette éducation du métier
d’où sort Michel Ange, d’où sort Raphaél … mais s’il doit moins au
maître, il doit plus à la nature. Il est son œuvre.… M. d’Orsay exerça
dans les salons de Paris et de Londres la dictature Athénienne du goût
et de l’élégance. C’est un de ces hommes qu’on aurait cru préoccupé de
succès futiles,—parce que la nature semble les avoir créés uniquement
pour son plaisir—mais qui trompent la nature, et qui, après avoir
recueilli les légères admirations des jeunes gens et des femmes de leur
âge, échappent à cette atmosphère de légèreté avant le temps où ils
laissent ses idoles dans le vide, et se transforment par l’étude et par le
travail en hommes nouveaux, en hommes de mérite acquis et sérieux.
M. d’Orsay a habité longtemps l’Angleterre ou il donnait l’exemple et le
ton à cette société aristocratique, un peu raide et déforme, qui admire
surtout ce qui lui manque, la grâce et l’abandon des manières.…
“Dès cet époque, il commenca à jouer avec l’argile, le marbre, le
ciseau, liè par un attachement devenu une parenté d’esprit, avec une
des plus belles et des plus splendides femmes de son époque, il fit son
buste pendant qu’elle vivait; il le fit idéal et plus touchant après sa mort.
Il moula en formes après, rudes, sauvages, de grandeur fruste, les traits
paysanesque d’O’Connell. Ces bustes furent à l’instant vulgarisés en
millièrs d’exemplaires en Angleterre et à Paris. C’étaient des créations
neuves.…
“Ces premiers succès furent des plus complets. Il cherchait un visage.
Il en trouva un. Lord Byron, dont il fut l’ami et avec lequel il voyagea
pendant deux ans[21] en Italie, n’était plus qu’un souvenir aimé dans
son cœur.… Il fit le buste de Lamartine,…” and then there is something
approaching very closely to a rhapsody on this work of art, and then a
set of verses by Lamartine himself!
Debt drove D’Orsay to seek in art a means of adding to his income; in
the case of Mr. Mitchell of Bond Street, who published a series of portrait
drawings, it is even possible that he used his art to cancel his debt for
Opera boxes, etc.! These portraits were 14 inches high and 10½ inches
wide and were sold at 5s. each. The set must have been almost a
pictorial “Who’s Who,” and among those honoured with inclusion may be
named Byron, Disraeli, Theodore Hook, Carlyle, Liszt, D’Orsay himself,
the Duke of Wellington, Greville, Louis Napoleon, Bulwer Lytton,
Trelawney, Landor, Dickens, Lady Blessington, Henry Bulwer, Captain
Marryat and Sir Edwin Landseer.
Richard James Lane, the engraver and lithographer, saw much of
D’Orsay, and judging by the following letter held him in esteem:—
“As a patron, his kind consideration for my interest, and prompt
fulfilment of every engagement, never failed me for the more than
twenty years of my association with him; and the friendship that arose
out of our intercourse (and which I attest with gratitude) proceeded at a
steady pace, without the smallest check, during the same period; and
remained unbroken, when on his final departure from England, he
continued to give me such evidence of the constancy of his regard, as
will be found conveyed in his letters.
“In the sketches of the celebrities of Lady Blessington’s salons, which
he brought to me (amounting to some hundred and fifty, or more),
there was generally an appropriate expression and character, that I
found difficult to retain in the process of elaboration; and although I
may have improved upon them in the qualities for which I was trained, I
often found that the final touches of his own hand alone made the work
satisfactory.
“Of the amount and character of the assistance of which the Count
availed himself, in the production of his pictures and models, I have a
clear notion.…
“When a gentleman would rush into the practice of that which, in its
mechanism, demands experience and instruction, he avails himself of
the help of a craftsman, whose services are sought for painting-in the
subordinate parts, and working out his rude beginnings. In the first rank
of art, at this day, are others who, like the Count d’Orsay, have been
unprepared, excepting by the possession of taste and genius, for the
practice of art, and whose merits are in no way obscured by the
assistance which they also freely seek in the manipulation of their
works; and it is no less easy to detect, in the pictures of the Count, the
precise amount of mechanical aid which he has received from another
hand, than the graces of character and feeling that are superadded by
his own. I have seen a rough model, executed entirely by himself, of
such extraordinary power and simplicity of design, that I begged him to
have it moulded, and not to proceed to the details of the work, until he
could first place this model side by side with the cast in clay, to be
worked up. He took my advice, and his equestrian statue of the first
Napoleon may fairly justify my opinion.
“In art, he had a heartfelt sympathy, a searching eye, and a critical
taste, fostered by habitual intercourse with some of our first artists.”
This letter from D’Orsay to Lane shows the Count in an amiable light:
—

“Paris, 21st February 1850.

“My Dear Lane,—I cannot really express to you the
extent of my sorrow about your dear and good family.
You know that my heart is quite open to sympathy with
the sorrows of others. But judge therefore, how it must
be, when so great a calamity strikes a family like yours,
which family I always considered one of the best I ever
had the good fortune to know. What a trial for dear Mrs
 Lane, after so many cares, losing a son like yours, just at
the moment that he was to derive the benefit of the good
education you gave him.… There is no consolation to
offer. The only one that I can imagine, is to think
continually of the person lost, and to make oneself more
miserable by thinking. It is, morally speaking, an
homœopathic treatment, and the only one which can give
some relief.… Give my most affectionate regards to your
dear family, and believe me always—far or near. Your
sincere friend,
“D’Orsay.”

In 1843 D’Orsay writes jestingly of himself: “I am poetising,

modelling, etc., etc. In fact, I begin to believe that I am a Michael
Angelo manqué.”
Concerning the Wellington statuette, D’Orsay writes to Madden: “You
must have seen by the newspapers that I have completed a great work,
which creates a revolution in the Duke of Wellington’s own mind, and
that of his family. It is a statuette on horseback of himself, in the
costume and at the age of the Peninsular war. They say that it will be a
fortune for me, as every regiment in the service will have one, as the
Duke says publicly, that it is the only work by which he desires to be
known, physically, by portraits. They say that he is very popular in
Portugal and Spain. I thought possibly that you could sell for me the
copyright at Lisbon, to some speculator to whom I could send the
mould.”
Shortly before his death he completed a smaller equestrian statuette
of the Duke, an account of which was given in the Morning Chronicle of
23rd December 1852:—
“One of the last of the late lamented Count d’Orsay’s studies was a
statuette of the Duke on horseback, the first copy of which, in bronze,
was carefully retouched and polished by the artist. The work is
remarkable for its mingled grace and sprightliness. The Duke, sitting
firmly back in his saddle, is reining in a pawing charger, charmingly
modelled, and a peculiar effect is obtained by the rider dividing the
reins, and stretching that on the left side completely back over the
thigh. The portrait is good, particularly that of the full face, and very
carefully finished, and the costume is a characteristic closely-fitting
military undress, with hanging cavalry sabre. Altogether, indeed, the
statuette forms a most agreeable memorial, not only of the Duke, but,
in some degree, of the gifted artist.”
Henry Vizetelly roundly states that there was no secrecy about the
help rendered to D’Orsay in his equestrian statuettes, etc., by T. H.
Nicholson, a draughtsman of horses, and that the faces of these works
of art were modelled by Behnes. He goes on to say: “The statuette of
the Duke of Wellington on horseback was undoubtedly Nicholson’s, and
that famous bust of the Iron Duke which was to make the fortune of the
lucky manufacturer who reproduced it in porcelain, is said to have been
his and Behnes’ joint work.”
Then follows this amusing story:—
“Sir Henry Cole—Old King Cole of the Brompton toilers,[22] and Felix
Flummery of the art-manufacture craze—used to tell an amusing story
of the high estimate, artistic and pecuniary, which D’Orsay set upon this
production. The Count had written to ask him to call at Gore House, and
on his proceeding there, after handing his card through the wicket, he
was cautiously admitted to the grounds and safely piloted between two
enormous mastiffs to the door of the house. He was then conducted to
the Count, whom he found pacing up and down Lady Blessington’s
drawing-room in a gorgeous dressing-gown.
“D’Orsay, Cole used to say, at once broke out with—‘You are a friend
of Mr Minton’s! I can make his fortune for him!’ Then turning to his
servant, ‘François,’ said he, ‘go to my studio and in the corner you will
find a bust. Cover it over with your handkerchief and bring it carefully
here.’ François soon returned carrying his burthen as tenderly as though
it were a baby, and when he had deposited it on the table, the Count
removed the handkerchief and posing before the bust with looks of rapt
admiration, he promptly asked Cole—
“‘What do you think of that?’
“‘It’s a close likeness,’ Cole cautiously replied.
 “‘Likeness! indeed it is a likeness!’ shouted the Count, ‘why, Douro
when he saw it exclaimed: “D’Orsay, you quite appal me with the
likeness to my father!”’
“The Count then confided to Cole that the Duke had given him four
sittings, after refusing, said he, a single sitting to ‘that fellow Landseer.’
“The Duke it seems came to inspect the bust after it was completed.
In D’Orsay’s biassed eyes he was as great in art as he was in war, and
he always went, the Count maintained, straight up to the finest thing in
the room to look at it. Naturally, therefore, he at once marched up to
the bust, paused, and shouted:—
“’”By God, D’Orsay, you have done what those damned busters never
could do.“’
“The puff preliminary over, the Count next proceeded to business.
“‘The old Duke will not live for ever,’ he sagely remarked; ‘he must die
one of these days. Now, what I want you to do is to advise your friend
Minton to make ten thousand copies of that bust, to pack them up in his
warehouse and on the day of the Duke’s death to flood the country with
them, and heigh presto! his fortune is made.’
“The Count hinted that he expected a trifle of £10,000 for his
copyright, but Cole’s friend, Minton, did not quite see this, and proposed
a royalty upon every copy sold. D’Orsay, who was painfully hard up for
ready cash, indignantly spurned the offer.…”
D’Orsay is most generally known as an artist by reason of his large
portrait of the Duke of Wellington now in the National Portrait Gallery,
upon the completion of which the Duke is said to have shaken hands
with the painter, saying: “At last I have been painted like a gentleman!
I’ll never sit to anyone else.” And he certainly did write to Lady
Blessington:—“You are quite right. Count d’Orsay’s work is of a higher
description of art than is described by the word portrait! But I described
it by that word, because the likeness is so remarkably good, and so well
executed as a painting, and that this is the truest of all artistic ability,
truest of all in this country.” Which last sentence is rather enigmatical.
Anent the statuette of O’Connell, referred to already, may be quoted a
letter written by D’Orsay on 16th March 1847 to John Forster:—
 “Prince Napoleon told me to-night at the French play, that he read in
an evening paper, the Globe, I think, an article copied from an Irish
paper, stating that I had made a statuette of O’Connell, and praising it,
etc. I suppose that it is from Osborne Bernal,[23] who is in Ireland. But I
would be glad it were known that I have associated him in the
composition with the Catholic Emancipation, and also that I intend to
make a present of the copyright to Ireland, for the benefit of the
subscription for the poor.”
Of other works from his hand we may name the bust of Emile de
Girardin, a portrait of Sir Robert Peel, and the picture of which some
details have already been given, showing a group in the garden of Gore
House.
We have already quoted an account of one visit paid by D’Orsay to
Haydon, here is that of a second, from an entry in the painter’s Diary,
dated 31st June 1838:—
“About seven, D’Orsay called, whom I had not seen for long. He was
much improved, and looking the glass of fashion and the mould of form;
really a complete Adonis, not made up at all. He made some capital
remarks, all of which must be attended to. They were sound
impressions, and grand. He bounded into his cab, and drove off like a
young Apollo, with a fiery Pegasus. I looked after him. I like to see such
specimens.”
In conclusion on this subject, from the New Monthly Magazine of
August 1845, this:—
“Whatever Count d’Orsay undertakes, seems invariably to be well
done. As the arbiter elegantiarum he has reigned supreme in matters of
taste and fashion, confirming the attempts of others by his approbation,
or gratifying them by his example. To dress, or drive, to shine in the gay
world like Count d’Orsay was once the ambition of the youth of England,
who then discovered in this model no higher attributes. But if time, who
‘steals our years away,’ steals also our pleasures, he replaces them with
others, or substitutes a better thing; and thus it has befallen with Count
d’Orsay.
“If the gay equipage, or the well-apparelled man be less frequently
seen than formerly, that which causes more lasting satisfaction, and
leaves an impression of a far more exalted nature, comes day by day
into higher relief, awakening only the regret that it should have been
concealed so long. When we see what Count d’Orsay’s productions are,
we are tempted to ask, with Malvolio’s feigned correspondent, ‘Why
were these things hid?’”
All things considered we may write down Count d’Orsay as a quite
first-rate amateur, as skilful in the arts as any dandy has ever been.
What more fitting than that his skill and accomplishment were best
shown in his bust of Lady Blessington?

Lady Blessington

(From the Bust by D’Orsay)

[TO FACE PAGE 234
 XXII
LETTERS

D’Orsay, had he devoted his time and his mind to the matter, could
doubtless have attained high eminence as a painter and sculptor, but he
was wise and refused to be bitten by the temptation; he well knew that
there are many artists, but few dandies. The gifts that other men would
have cultivated exclusively, he used to heighten and perfect his genius
as a master of dandyship. It is perhaps the highest attribute of genius to
be able to recognise genius—in oneself; only mediocre men are modest.
Modesty is a sign of incompetency or stupidity.
Could D’Orsay have achieved greatness as a writer? Byron thought
very highly of the journal which, it will be remembered, D’Orsay wrote
during his first visit to London, but we cannot accept this criticism as
final, for the poet’s literary judgment was often faulty.
He is reputed to have been a contributor to some of the journals of
the day and he was put forward as the “editor” of the translation
published in London in 1847 of a French novel, Marie, Histoire d’une
Jeune Fille. But other men have gained fame with as little regular
literary baggage as the Count, literature in the form of familiar letters,
written always, or almost always, without a thought that they would
meet the public eye. Of casual letters we have a fair number of
D’Orsay’s, and some of them make quite pleasant reading. At any rate
they are as good as those which are not written by dandies, which is
saying much, for dandies have many important affairs to fill their time.
They are chatty epistles, serve to shed a light upon their writer’s
character; by his letters to his friends you may know the man.
Here is a note from him to Landor, written in September 1828:—

“I have received, dear Mr Landor, your letter. It has

given us great pleasure. You ought to feel sure that we
should particularly appreciate a letter from you, and it will
 appear that our intimacy in Florence counted for nothing
with you if you doubt the pleasure that your news
arouses in us. As soon as I have received the pictures I
will carry out your commission carefully. I do wish you
would come to Paris, for we have some fine things to
show you, particularly pictures. Apropos, I am sending
you herewith the portrait of Prince Borghese, which I
hope you will find to be a good likeness.… We talk and
think often of you. It is really strange that you are in the
odour of sanctity in this family, for it seems to me it is not
exactly this sort of reputation you pique yourself on
possessing.
“Lady B. and all our ladies send you a thousand good
wishes and I renew the assurance of the sincerity of
mine.—Yours very affectionately,
“D’Orsay.”

“All our ladies,” included Lady d’Orsay.

Then of a much later date, probably 1842 or 1843:—

“I think that Henry the Eighth was at Richmond-on-the-

Hill when Anne Boleyn was beheaded. They say that he
saw the flag which was erected in London as soon as her
head fell. Therefore, as you make him staying at Epping
Forest at that time, and as I am sure you have some
good reasons for it, I will thank you to give them to me.
“We regretted much not to have seen you at Bath, and
I was on the moment to write to you, like Henry the
Fourth did to the brave Crillon after the battle!
“‘Pends toi, brave Landor, nous avons été à Bath, et tu
n’y étois pas—’
“You will be glad to hear that the second son of my
sister has been received at the Ecole of St Cyr, after a
 ticklish examination. Hoping to see you soon, believe me,
yours most affectionately,
“D’Orsay.”

There is not very much of distinction, perhaps, in these two letters,

but they serve to show the familiar friendship of the two men and also
that the dandy studied his English History, at any rate as far as concerns
the disposal of wives.
With John Forster he kept up a fairly lively correspondence, some of
the letters containing points of interest:—

“Gore House, 25th October 1844.

“It is really an age since you’ve been here. It’s a poor
joke! Where have you been?… Macready has sent me a
Boston paper, in which I have read with great interest of
his success.… I have not seen ‘De la Roche’ Maclise. Give
him a thousand good wishes.
“Eugene Sue gets better and better; he leads you to his
moral by somewhat perilous roads, but once you get
there you find it pure and beautiful. The fecundity of his
imagination surpasses all previous works; the Jesuits are
smashed up, the convents broken down and the workman
raised upon their debris. Amen.—Yours ever,
“D’Orsay.”

Was it not to this practical Forster that D’Orsay wrote upon his project
for establishing a means of communication between the guard and the
engine-driver of a train? But the “sacrés directeurs de rail road” would
not adopt his idea because of their own ideas of economy.

“P.M., 4th August 1845.

“I am determined to follow up the directors until they
take up my scheme, and if you will assist me” (i.e. by
writing in the papers), “these continual accidents will