CHAPTER II. THE LEVEE
For many a year after the failure of the Jacobite expedition--long afterall apprehension from that quarter had ceased to disturb the mind ofEngland--the adherents of Charles Edward abroad continued to plot,and scheme, and plan, carrying on intrigues with nearly every court ofEurope, and maintaining secret intercourse with all the disaffectedat home. It would, at first sight, seem strange that partisans shouldmaintain a cause which its chief had virtually abandoned as hopeless;but a little consideration will show us that the sympathy felt byforeign Governments for the Stuarts was less based on attachment totheir house, than a devotion to the religious principles of which theywere the assertors. To Catholicise England was the great object atheart--to crush that heresy, whose right of private judgment wasas dangerous to despotism as to bigotry--this was a cause far tooportentous and important to be forsaken for any casual check ormomentary discouragement. Hence, for years after the hopes of the'Pretender's' friends had died out in Scotland, his foreign followerstraversed the Continent on secret missions in every direction, exertingat times no slight influence even in the cabinets which England believedto be best affected toward her.
There was, it is true, nothing in the state of Europe generally, nor ofEngland itself, to revive the hopes of that party. Of the adherents tothe Stuart cause, the staunchest and the best had paid the penaltyof their devotion: some were exiles, and some, like Lord Lovatt, hadpurchased safety by dishonour, but scarcely one was to be found readyto peril life and fortune once more in so barren an enterprise. None,indeed, expected that 'the king should have his own again,' but manythought that the claim of a disputed succession might be used as aterrible agency for disturbance, and the cause of a dethroned monarchbe made an admirable rallying-point for Catholic Europe. These intrigueswere carried on in every court of the Continent, but more especially atRome and Madrid, between which two capitals the emissaries of the Princemaintained a close and frequent intercourse.
With all the subtlety of such crafty counsellors, every question ofreal moment was transacted in the strictest secrecy, but all trivial andunimportant affairs were blazoned forth to the world with a degree ofdisplay that seemed to court publicity. In this way, for instance, everyeventful era of the Stuart family was singled out for observance, andthe ceremonies of the Church were employed to give the epochs a duesolemnity. It is to an occasion of this kind we would now invite ourreader's presence--no less a one than the birthday of Charles Edward.
From an early hour on the morning of the 20th December 178--, thecourtyard of the Altieri Palace was a scene of unusual stir andmovement. Country carts, loaded with orange-trees and rare plants fromthe conservatories of the princely villas around Rome, great basketsof flowers--bouquets which had cost a twelvemonth's care to bring toperfection--were unpacking on every side, while delicious fruits andwines of extreme rarity were among the offerings of the auspiciousday. Servants in the well-known livery of every noble house passed andrepassed, and the lodge of the porter was besieged by crowds who weredesirous of testifying their respect for the exiled majesty of England,even though their rank did not entitle them to be presented. The streetfront of the palace was decorated with gorgeous hangings from all thewindows, some emblazoned with the armorial insignia of royalty, somewith the emblems of different orders of knighthood, and some simply withthe fleur-de-lis or the cross of St. Andrew. A guard of honour of thePope's Swiss stood at the gate, and two trumpeters, with two heralds infull costume, were mounted on white chargers within the arched entrance,ready, when the clock struck eleven, to proclaim the birthday of theking of England.
For years back the occasion had been merely marked by a levee, atwhich the Prince's personal friends and followers were joined by a fewcardinals and one or two of the elders among the noble families; butnow, for some unexplained reason, a greater display was made, and anunusual degree of splendour and preparation betokened that the eventwas intended to be singled out for peculiar honour. Pickets of dragoons,stationed at intervals through the neighbouring streets, also showedthat measures were taken to secure public tranquillity, and prevent theinconvenience which might arise from overcrowded thoroughfares. Thatsuch precautions were not unneeded, the dense mass of people that nowcrowded the streets already showed.
Few, indeed, of the assembled multitude knew the meaning of theceremonial before them. To most, the name of England was like that ofsome fabulous dream-land. Others clearly saw some vassalage to the Popein this temporary display of royalty; a yet smaller number looked onwith compassionate sorrow at this solemn mockery of a state so unrealand unsubstantial. Meanwhile, a certain cautious reserve, a degree ofrespectful quiet, pervaded all the arrangements within the palace. Thewindows of the apartments occupied by the Prince were still closed, andthe noiseless tread of the servants, as they passed in that direction,showed the fear of disturbing him. For above a year back Charles Edwardhad been suffering severely from ill health. Two attacks of apoplexy,one following quickly on the other, had left him weak and debilitated,while from the abandonment of his habits of dissipation, enforced by hisphysician, there ensued that low and nervous condition, the invariablepenalty exacted from debauchery.
He had lived of late years much secluded from society, passing his timein the company of a few intimates whose character and station were,indeed, but ill-adapted to his rank. Of these the chief was a certainKelly, an Irishman, and a friar of the order of Cordeliers, with whomthe Prince had become acquainted in his wanderings in Spain, and bywhose influence he first grew attached to habits of low dissipation.Kelly's recommendations to favour were great personal courage, highanimal spirits, and a certain dashing recklessness, that even to hislatest hour had a fascination for the mind of Charles Edward. Perhaps,however, there was nothing in Kelly's character which so much disposedthe Prince toward him as the confidence--real or pretended--with whichhe looked forward to the restoration of the exiled family, and thereturn of the Stuarts to the throne of England. The prophecies ofNostradamus and the predictions of Kelly fostered hopes that survivedevery discomfiture, and survived when there was really not even a chancefor their accomplishment. This friar had become, in fact, though notformally, the head of the Prince's household, of which he affected toregulate the expenditure and watch over the conduct. The reckless waste,however, that prevailed; the insubordination of the servants; and theutter disorganisation of everything, were far from being complimentaryto his administrative powers.
The income of the Prince was small and precarious. The sums contributedby Spain came irregularly. The French contingent was scarcely betterpaid. The Roman portion alone could be relied upon to maintain the costof a household which, for its ill-management and profusion, wasthe scandal of the city. There were many rumours current of Kelly'sfinancial resources--traits of pecuniary strategy which might haveshamed a Chancellor of the Exchequer; but these, of course, weredifficult to prove, and only natural to prevail on such a subject.Although there is abundant evidence of the man's debasement andimmorality, it is equally well known that he amassed no wealth in theservice of the Prince. We have been somewhat prolix in this referenceto one who is not a chief figure in our picture, but without whom anysketch of the Stuart household would be defective. The Fra Laurentio,as he was called, was indeed a person of importance, nor was any name sooften uttered as his on the eventful morning we have referred to.
Soon after ten o'clock, a certain movement in the streets, and theappearance of the dragoons waving back the populace, showed thatthe visitors were about to arrive; and at last a stately old coach,containing some officials of the Pope's household, drove into thecourtyard. This was quickly followed by the judges of the superiorcourts and the secretaries of the tribunals, to whom succeeded a longline of Roman nobles, their sombre equipages broken occasionally to theeye by the scarlet panels of a cardinal or the emblazoned hammerclothof a foreign ambassador. Despite the crowd, the movement, the glitterof uniform and the gorgeous glare of costume, there was an air ofindescribable gloom in the whole p
rocession. There was none of thatgorgeous courtesy, that look of pleasure, so associated with thetrace of a royal birthday; on the contrary, there was an appearance ofdepression--almost of shame--in the faces of the principal persons, manyseeming to shrink from the public gaze and to feel abashed at the chancemention of their names by the people in the street, as they passed.
Among those who watched the proceedings with a more than common interestwas a large burly man, in the brown robe of a Carthusian, whose bald,bare head overtopped the surrounders. Closely stationed near the gate,he had formed an acquaintance with a stranger who seemed familiar withalmost every face that came by. The friar was our friend Fra Luke; andtruly his bluff, honest features, his clear blue eye, and frank brow,were no unpleasing contrast to the treacherous expressions and gaunt,sallow cheeks on either side of him. Few of the names were familiar tothe honest Carthusian; and it is but truth to say that he heard of thegreat Spanish diplomatist, Guadalaraxa, the wily Cardinal Acquavesia,and the intriguing envoy, Count Boyer, without a particle of interest inthem; but when his informant whispered, 'There goes the Earl of Dunbar,that sallow-faced man in deep mourning; that yonder is the Irishchieftain, O'Sullivan,' then the friar's eyes brightened, and hiswhole countenance gleamed with animation and excitement. This faithfuladherent to the Stuart cause was now in his eighty-seventh year, butstill carried himself erect, and walked with the measured step of anold soldier; his three-cornered hat, trimmed with ostrich feathers, andwide-skirted blue coat, turned up with red, recalling the time of Louisxiv., of whose court he had once been a distinguished ornament. Soonafter him came MacNiel of Barra, a tall, hard-visaged man, but whosemuscular figure and well-knit limbs were seen to great advantage in thefull dress of a Highland chieftain. He was preceded by the piper of hisclan, and a henchman, with a pistol on full cock in his hand, walkedafter him. A few of lesser note, many of whom exhibited unmistakablesigns of narrow fortune, came after these. It was a group which had goneon diminishing each year, and now, by the casualties of death, sickness,and exile, had dwindled down at last to scarcely a dozen; and even ofthese few, it was plain to see, some were offering the last homage theywere ever like to render on earth. Equipage after equipage rolled intothe court; and although a vast number had now arrived, the rumour ranthat the windows of the Prince's apartment were still closed, nor wasthere any sign of preparation in that part of the palace. The vaguedoubts and surmises which prevailed among the crowd without were sharedin by the guests assembled within doors. Gathered in knots, or walkingslowly along through the vast salons, they conversed in low whisperstogether--now stopping to listen for anything that might indicatethe approach of the Prince, and then relapsing into the same mutteredconversation as before. So estranged had Charles Edward lived latterlyfrom all his former associates, that it was in vain to ask for anyexplanation from those whose titles implied the duties of his household;and Keith, Murray, MacNiel, and Upton frankly avowed that they were asgreat strangers within those walls as any of those who now came to offertheir formal compliments. Kelly alone, it would seem, by the frequentmention of his name, could account for the Prince's absence; and yetKelly was not to be found.
Ill-regulated and ill-ordered as were all the arrangements of thathousehold, there seemed something beyond all bounds in this neglect offitting courtesy; and many did not scruple to say aloud how deeply theyfelt the insult. At one moment they half resolved on deputing a messageto the chamber of the Prince; at another they discussed the propriety ofdeparting in a body. Various opinions were given as to the most fittingcourse to follow; in the midst of which their debate was interruptedby the hoarse flourish of trumpets without, and the loud-voicedproclamation by the heralds, 'That his Majesty of England had enteredinto his fifty-second year.' A faint cheer--the tribute of the carelesscrowd in the street--and a salvo of cannon from the Quirinal, closed theceremony, and all was still--so still that for some seconds not a wordwas heard in those thronged and crowded salons.
'_Ma foi!_' cried Count Boyer at last, I suppose we may go home again.Not ours the fault if our duty has not been offered with sufficientrespect.'
'My master,' said the Spanish envoy haughtily, 'will probably think mypatience but little deserving of his praise.'
'And I,' said a German baron, all covered with decorations, 'havebrought this letter of gratulation from the Margrave of Baden, and, foraught I see, am like to carry it back to his Serene Highness.'
'As for me,' said Count Bjosterna, the Swedish minister, 'I serve amaster who never brooked an insult; and lest this should become such, I'll take my leave.'
'Not so, messieurs,' cried O'Sullivan, stepping forward, and placinghimself in front of the door. 'You have come here to pay my master, theking of England, certain marks of your respect. It is for him to choosethe time he will accept of them. By heaven! not a man of you shall leavethis till his good pleasure in that matter be known.'
'Well said, O'Sullivan!' said General Upton, grasping the old man'shand; while MacNiel and some other chieftains pushed forward and rangedthemselves before the door in solemn silence.
'Nay, nay, gentlemen,' interposed the cardinal-secretary, Gualtieri--aman whose venerable appearance commanded universal respect; 'this wouldbe most unseemly on every hand. We are all here animated by one feelingof sincere deference and attachment to a great prince. There may be goodand sufficient reasons why he has not received our homage. It would illbecome us to inquire into these. Not enough for us that our intentionsare those of respectful duty; we must mark, by our conduct, that weappreciate the rank of him to whom we offer them.'To these words,uttered aloud, he added something in a whisper to the principal personsat either side; and, seeming to yield to his instances, they fell back,while O'Sullivan, bowing respectfully to the cardinal, in token ofacquiescence, moved slowly away, followed by the chieftains.
This little incident, as may be supposed, contributed nothing to removethe constraint of the scene; and an almost unbroken stillness nowprevailed, when at length a carriage was seen to drive from thecourtyard.
'There goes Monsignore Alberti,' said Count Boyer. 'Where the secretaryof the Pope gives the initiative, it is surely safe to follow. My dutyis paid.' And so saying, and with a deep obeisance to all at either sideof him, he passed out. The Spanish minister followed; and now the wholeassemblage gradually moved away, so that in less than an hour the salonswere deserted, and none remained of all that crowded mass which solate had filled them, except O'Sullivan, MacNiel, and a few Highlandchieftains of lesser note.
'One might be tempted to say that there was a curse upon this cause,'said MacNiel sternly, as he threw himself down into a seat. Who ever sawa morning break with brighter hopes; and see already, scarcely an hourpast the noon, and they are all gone--wafted to the winds.'
'No, no, MacNiel,' said O'Sullivan gravely; 'you are wrong, believe me.These butterflies knew well that it was only a gleam of sunshine, not asummer. The hopes of the Stuarts are gone for ever.'
'Why are you here, then, if you think so?' cried the other impetuously.
'For that very reason, sir. I feel, as you and all these gentlemen heredo, that fidelity is a contract made for life.'
'They were the luckiest that closed that account first,' muttered one ofthe lairds, half aloud. 'By my saul, Culloden wasn't colder lying thanthe Campagna.'
'Come along, we may as well follow the rest,' said MacNiel, rising.'Will you dine with us, O'Sullivan? Mac-Allister and Brane are coming.'
'No, MacNiel. I have made this anniversary a day of fasting for many ayear back. I took a vow never to taste meat or wine on this festival,till I should do so beneath the king's roof, in his own land.'
'Ye 're like to keep a black Lent o' it, then,' muttered the old laird,with a dry laugh, and shuffled along after his chieftain, as he led theway toward the door.
O'Sullivan waited till they had gone; and then, with a sad glance aroundhim, as if like a leave-taking, left the palace and turned homeward.