w 
 
THE LAST STUART QUEEN 
 
THE LAST STUART 
 QUEEN : louise countess 
 
 OF ALBANY: HER LIFE & LETTERS 
 BY HERBERT M. yAUGHAN, F.S.A.^ 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE "LAST OF THE ROYAL STUARTS" ETC. 
 
 LONDON 
 DUCKWORTH AND CO. 
 
 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN 
 I9IO 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. YOUTH AND MARRIAGE. 
 (1752-1774X 
 
 Lineage of the Houses of Stolberg and Homes. The parents of Louise 
 of Stolberg-Gedern. Her birth and baptism. Her education 
 at St. Wandru in Mons. Marriage of her sister Caroline- 
 Augusta with the Marquis of Jamaica. Betrothal and marriage 
 of Louise to Prince Charles-Edward Stuart. Her first meeting 
 with her husband at Macerata. Entry of the bridal pair into 
 Rome. Life in the Palace of the Santi Apostoli. Intrigues of 
 the Stuart Prince. Attitude of the Cardinal of York. Dis- 
 appointment felt at the non-appearance of a Stuart heir. Arrival 
 in Rome of Clementina Walkinshaw and of Charlotte Stuart. 
 Quarrel of the Prince with his brother and the Pope. Departure 
 of Charles Stuart and his court from Rome. 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. THREE YEARS IN FLORENCE. 
 (1774-1777); 
 
 The pair settle in Florence under the assumed names of the Count and 
 Countess of Albany. Violent behaviour of the Count. Letters 
 of the Countess to her friend Carl- Victor Bonstetten. Madame 
 de Maltzam. Miserable married life of the Countess. Purchase 
 of the Palazzo Guadagni. Position of the Countess in Florence. 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. THE POET AND THE LADY. 
 (1777) 
 
 Birth and early career of Count Vittorio Alfieri of Cortemilia. j^His 
 adventure in England with Penelope, Lady Ligonier. His early 
 friendship with the Abbe di Caluso. His return to Turin. His 
 ardent desire to revive the Italian tragic drama. His studies in 
 Siena. The Sienese friends of Alfieri. His first meeting with 
 the Countess of Albany in Florence. He enters the Palazzo 
 Stuart as a guest. Criticism of his conduct. 31 
 
 vii 
 
Contents 
 
 CHAPTER IV. A FLORENTINE LOVE-TRAGEDY. 
 (1777-1781) 
 
 Sir Horace Mann's account of the health and temper of the Count of 
 Albany. Attitude of the Countess towards Alfieri. Light 
 thrown by Alfieri's poetry on this episode. Intrigue between 
 the Countess and Alfieri. Pride taken by the Countess in her 
 lover's literary career. The question of her guilt discussed. The 
 Count of Albany attacks his wife on St. Andrew's night, 1780. 
 Genuine alarm both of the Countess and of Alfieri. The Tuscan 
 Court is induced to assist the escape of the Countess. She flees 
 into a convent. Fury of her husband. Both the Pope and the 
 Cardinal of York express approval of her action. Refusal of 
 Archbishop Martini, of Florence, to help the Count. The 
 Countess sets out for Rome. 
 
 CHAPTER V. SECOND VISIT TO ROME. 
 (1781-1783) 
 
 The Countess of Albany is lodged in the Ursuline Convent in the Via 
 Vittoria. Sympathy of her brother-in-law, the Cardinal of York, 
 in her plight. Alfieri is permitted to visit her in the convent. 
 The Countess is allowed to reside in the Cardinal's official Palace 
 of the Cancellaria. Return of Alfieri to Rome. He settles at 
 the Villa Strozzi. Roman society under Pius VI. Pleasant life 
 led by the Countess and Alfieri. Value of the Cardinal's protec- 
 tion. Performance of Alfieri's tragedy of Antigone at the Spanish 
 Embassy. Beauty, intellectual charm, and popularity of the 
 Countess in Rome. Illness of her husband. His charges against 
 his wife are believed by the Cardinal, whose action finally forces 
 Alfieri to quit Rome. Misery and dismay both of the Countess 
 and of Alfieri. Views of Sir Horace Mann and of Miss Knight on 
 this scandal. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. SEPARATION. 
 (1783-1784) 
 
 Alfieri retires to Siena ; the Countess to a villa near Genzano. Their 
 frequent correspondence, of which only five love-letters remain. 
 Francesco Gori. Alfieri goes to purchase horses in England. 
 Utter desolation of the Countess. Her letters to the Countess 
 Monica Alfieri. King Gustavus III. of Sweden contrives to 
 arrange a legal separation between the Count and Countess of 
 Albany. Disapproval of the Cardinal. 
 
Contents 
 
 CHAPTER VII. REUNION. 
 .(1784-1788) 
 
 The Countess, now formally released from her husband, obtains 
 leave to quit the Papal states. Alfieri returns to Siena. The 
 pair arrange to meet secretly at the castle of Martinsburg, near 
 Colmar, on the Rhine. Death of their friend, Francesco Gori. 
 His place taken largely by Mario Bianchi. The Countess returns 
 to Italy in the autumn. Alfieri at Pisa. Incident of Elia's 
 treachery. Charlotte Stuart, Duchess of Albany, persuades the 
 Cardinal of the guilt of his sister-in-law. Reconciliation between 
 Charles and Henry Stuart. The Countess and Alfieri revisit 
 Colmar in the following year. Final rupture of the Cardinal 
 with the Countess of Albany. Her lasting bitterness against the 
 Cardinal. 117 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. DEATH OF CHARLES STUART. 
 (1788) 
 
 The Countess and Alfieri leave Colmar and settle in Paris. Illness of 
 Alfieri. Efforts made by the Countess Monica Alfieri to induce 
 her son to return home. Death of Prince Charles Stuart in Rome 
 on January 30, 1788. Alfieri's suspicious account of the grief 
 of the Countess. Unfounded rumours of a subsequent marriage 
 between the pair. Income of the Countess drawn from the 
 French court and the Stuart jointure. Salon of the Countess 
 in the Rue de Bourgogne. Alfieri's dislike of Paris. 141 
 
 CHAPTER IX. THE VISIT TO ENGLAND. 
 (April-August 1791) 
 
 Alarm of both Alfieri and the Countess at the rising storm of the 
 French Revolution. They visit England and settle for three 
 months in London. The Countess attends the Court of George 
 III. as Princess of Stolberg-Gedern. Comments of Horace 
 Walpole on this incident. Secret desire to obtain a British 
 pension. The pair make a tour of the Midlands of England, 
 visiting various places of note. Journal kept by the Countess. 
 Her criticisms of English people and ideas. Decision to quit 
 England. Alfieri meets with Lady Ligonier at Dover. 159 
 
 CHAPTER X. CASA ALFIERI. 
 (1793-1797) 
 
 Visit of the pair to Holland. Return to Paris. Death of the Countess 
 Monica Alfieri. The Countess and Alfieri manage to escape from 
 
 ix 
 
Contents 
 
 Paris in August 1792. Alfieri's account of their adventures. 
 They seek refuge in Flanders, and thence travel southward into 
 Italy. They decide to settle permanently in Florence. Further 
 attempt of the Countess to obtain a British pension. Letter of 
 Lord Camelford. Francois-Xavier Fabre, the French painter, 
 becomes their intimate friend. He paints their portraits. The 
 pair settle in Casa Gianfigliazzi on the Lung' Arno. Dramatic 
 performances given by Alfieri in his new home. Death of Alfieri's 
 friend, Mario Bianchi. Letter of condolence of Alfieri to 
 Madame Teresa Mocenni. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. THE COUNTESS AND TERESA MOCENNI. 
 
 (1797-1802) 
 
 Intimate correspondence between Madame Teresa Regoli-Mocenni 
 and the Countess of Albany. Early history of Madame Mocenni. 
 Her friendship with the Chevalier Mario Bianchi. The Arch- 
 priest Ansano Luti. Series of letters addressed by the Countess 
 to her two friends at Siena. Marriage of Quirina Mocenni and 
 Signore Magiotti. Death of Madame Mocenni. The Countess 
 and the Mocenni children. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. LAST DAYS OF ALFIERI. 
 (1797-1803) 
 
 Alfieri's detestation of the French nation and the French Republic. 
 He and the Countess retire to a villa at Montughi during the 
 French occupation of Florence in 1799. His belated study of 
 Greek. His increasing ill-health and ill-humour. Doctor 
 Edouard Fabre, his physician. Alfieri and General Miollis. 
 Depression in Casa Alfieri. " The Order of Homer." Alfieri's 
 last illness and death. Kindness of the Abbe di Caluso. Letter 
 of the Countess to Monsieur de Villoison. Story of the erection 
 of Canova's monument to Alfieri in Santa Croce. Criticisms of 
 Sismondi and of others upon it. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. FRANCOIS-XAVIER FABRE. 
 (1803-1811) 
 
 Financial position of the Countess of Albany. Her failure to obtain 
 a pension from Napoleon I. Successful appeal for a grant from 
 the Privy Purse of George III. Continued efforts to obtain the 
 lost French pension under the restored Bourbons. Former 
 relations between the Countess, Alfieri, and Fabre. Insinuations 
 made by various Italian writers. Anecdote related by Massimo 
 
Contents 
 
 d'Azeglio. Unfounded rumour of a marriage between Fabre and 
 the Countess. Napoleon commands the presence of the Countess 
 in Paris. The Countess and Elise Buonaparte. A year of exile 
 in Paris. Madame de Souza. Return of Fabre and the Countess 
 to Florence. They visit Rome and Naples. Courier's Conversa- 
 tion chez la Comtesse d* Albany. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. " QUEEN OF FLORENCE." 
 (1803-1823) 
 
 D'Azeglio's recollections of the Countess and her salon. Its popularity 
 among the literary and fashionable sets, both Italian and foreign. 
 Celebrated habitues of Casa Alfieri. Bonstetten revisits the 
 Countess in her old age. Her voluminous correspondence. 
 Madame de Souza and her son Nene, Comte de Flahault. The 
 Countess and Sismondi. Their correspondence and arguments. 
 Quarrel and reconciliation between the pair. 275 
 
 CHAPTER XV. UGO FOSCOLO. 
 (1812-1816) 
 
 Correspondence between the poet Ugo Foscolo and the Countess. 
 Foscolo in Florence. His relations with the Countess of Albany. 
 His Florentine " Graces." Selections from the letters of the 
 Countess to Foscolo. Foscolo and Quirina Mocenni-Magiotti, 
 his " Donna Gentile." Attitude of the Countess. Fabre's 
 portrait of Foscolo. Infatuation of the " Donna Gentile." 293 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. DEATH OF THE LAST STUART QUEEN. 
 
 (1824) 
 
 Daily life in Casa Alfieri. Deaths of the Abbe di Caluso and of Dr. 
 Edouard Fabre. Anecdote given by Etienne de Lecluze. Lady 
 Morgan's account of the Countess of Albany. Declining health 
 of the Countess. Her last illness and death on January 29, 1824. 
 Letters of her sister Gustavine de Stolberg. Notice in the 
 Gazzetta di Firenze. Letter of Madame de Souza to Fabre. 
 Will of the Countess of Albany. Character of the Countess. 
 Her monument in Santa Croce. Return of Fabre to his native 
 town of Montpellier. His gift to Florence of the Alfieri MSS. 
 His donation of the Musee Fabre to Montpellier. His last years 
 
 and death in 1837. 321 
 
 APPENDIX 342 
 
 INDEX 353 
 
 xi 
 
 PACK 
 
 253 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 1 Louise, Countess of Albany Frontispiece 
 
 From the Portrait by Ozias Humphry, R.A. 
 
 2 Medals, with Portraits of Louise and of Charles-Edward 
 
 Stuart, struck at their Marriage in 1772 ; also Medallion 
 
 of the former (Coin Department, British Museum) 10 
 
 3 Palazzo Stuart (now Palazzo San Clemente) in Florence 28 
 
 4 Charles-Edward Stuart 4.2 
 
 From the Portrait by Ozias Humphry, R.A. 
 
 5 Count Vittorio Alfieri 55 
 
 From the Portrait by F. X. Fabre, now in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence 
 {Photograph by Alinari, Florence) 
 
 6 Henry Stuart, Cardinal Duke of York 81 
 
 From the Portrait by Pompeo Batoni in the National Portrait Gallery, 
 London 
 
 7 Louise, Countess of Albany 123 
 
 From a Pastel in the National Portrait Gallery, London 
 
 8 Louise, Countess of Albany 188 
 
 From the Portrait by F. X. Fabre, in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence 
 {Photograph by Alinari, Florence) 
 
 9 Count Vittorio Alfieri 234 
 
 From an Engraving by Morghen of the later Portrait by F. X. Fabre 
 
 lo Monument to Alfieri, by Canova, in Santa Croce, 
 
 Florence 251 
 
 [Photograph by Alinari, Florence) 
 
 [I Casa Alfieri, the Residence of the Countess of Albany 277 
 [Photograph by Alinari, Florence) 
 
 12 Monument to the Countess of Albany in Santa Croce, 
 
 Florence 338 
 [Photograph by Alinari, Florence) 
 
 xiii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The life of Louise, Princess of Stolberg-Gedern, wife of 
 Prince Charles-Edward Stuart, but commonly known as 
 the Countess of Albany, may conveniently be divided 
 into three well-defined periods. First, the years extend- 
 ing from the date of her marriage in 1772 with the British 
 Pretender until her legal separation from him in 1784; 
 and covering the whole of her relations with Charles and 
 Henry Stuart, as well as the early phases of her celebrated 
 romance with the poet Vittorio Alfieri. Second, her close 
 companionship with Count Vittorio Alfieri from her legal 
 separation until the poet's death in 1803 ; a period in her 
 life wherewith the generality of people is not so familiar 
 as with the earlier portion dealing with the Stuarts. 
 Third, her twenty years' residence in Florence as the 
 mistress of a salon which had an European notoriety, 
 constituting the last and least interesting part of her 
 career. The following work makes the attempt to give a 
 brief but succinct account of all three periods, whilst care- 
 fully refusing to stray from the central figure of the 
 Countess of Albany into diverging paths or into extraneous 
 episodes that are only remotely connected with the chosen 
 subject of this biography — an error into which one at 
 least of her leading biographers has most certainly fallen. 
 
 The earliest published biography of the Countess of 
 Albany is Die Grdfin von Albany — a work that will always 
 retain its foremost place — by Baron Alfred von Reumont, 
 a Prussian diplomatist at the Grand-Ducal Court of 
 Florence and the leading Continental authority on the 
 exiled Royal Stuarts in Italy. This book, together with 
 a most valuable Appendix of original documents in 
 
 XV 
 
Introduction 
 
 English, French, and Italian, drawn from the most varied 
 sources, was published at Berlin in i860, and it has never 
 been translated into English. Reumont's biography, 
 which in spite of its undoubted merits is somewhat too 
 digressive in its scope and character, was followed by 
 three studies of the Countess from the pen of Monsieur 
 St. Rene Taillandier in the Revue des Deux Monies 
 (1861), which taken together form a tolerable mono- 
 graph, although Reumont, on whose work these studies 
 were admittedly based, complains in his essay, Gli Ultimi 
 Stuardi, of the Frenchman's plagiarism ; whilst the 
 sympathetic pages on the Countess contained in the 
 Nouveaux Lundis by Monsieur de Sainte-Beuve were 
 again mere literary comments on Taillandier's biography. 
 The first English writer to introduce the personality of the 
 Countess of Albany to English readers was " Vernon Lee," 
 whose brilliant study published in 1884 aims little at 
 originality, although her discovery of the curious love- 
 letters at Siena and their partial quotation give an addi- 
 tional value to her work. No other biography of the 
 Countess has succeeded " Vernon Lee's " book, issued 
 a quarter of a century ago, unless we choose to accept 
 as such the interesting and sympathetic, perhaps over- 
 sympathetic, account afforded us by Marchesa Vitelleschi 
 in the second volume of her delightful work, A Court in 
 Exile ) published in 1903, the year of the Alfieri centenary. 
 
 This centenary naturally gave birth to a numerous 
 progeny of books, great and small, on the famous Italian 
 poet and patriot, and it was inevitable on such an occasion 
 that his " Egeria," his " Donna Amata," should come in for 
 her share of public attention, and also of an ample criticism, 
 which, generally speaking, was anything but favourable, 
 as the many allusions contained in this volume will 
 demonstrate. There exists of course, a vast number of 
 articles and studies in the Italian learned reviews con- 
 cerning the Countess of Albany, especially in regard to 
 her relations with Alfieri, but so far no important bio- 
 graphy has been published in Italian, although von Reu-^ 
 xvi 
 
Introduction 
 
 mont's work was translated soon after its appearance by 
 Signore Cossilla. 
 
 The private letters of the Countess, who was an 
 indefatigable correspondent, have been edited in certain 
 cases by French and ^Italian writers, notably in recent 
 years by Monsieur Pelissier. I have purposely included a 
 considerable number of these letters in the present volume, 
 and in particular a selection from her correspondence with 
 Signora Teresa Mocenni of Siena and with Ugo Foscolo 
 the poet, since they in particular serve to throw a clear, 
 and in some instances a new light upon the personality 
 of the writer. In spite, however, of the valuable efforts 
 in this direction undertaken by Monsieur Pelissier, 
 Professor Calligaris, Signor Antona-Traversi and many 
 others, whole carteggi or masses of correspondence of the 
 Countess still remain unpublished, although they have 
 been perused and utilised by various authors. This pile 
 of known but unpublished manuscript includes eighty 
 letters to the Arch-priest Ansano Luti of Siena, sent 
 between the date of Teresa Mocenni's death in 1802 and 
 that of the Arch-priest in 1807 ; fifty- two letters to the 
 Cavaliere Alessandro Cerretani of Siena, written between 
 1807 and 1815 ; and about forty letters included amongst 
 the Stuart MSS. in the British Museum, which, though 
 unpublished in toto, have been largely drawn upon by 
 Reumont and by various English writers. The earliest 
 of her private letters extant and published are those 
 directed to Carl- Victor Bonstetten in 1774-5, included 
 by Monsieur Pelissier in his Lettres et Ecrits divers de la 
 Comtesse d' 'Albany (Paris, Emile Paul, 1902), wherein the 
 defective education of the lady at this period is very 
 fully exhibited. 
 
 The letters addressed to Henry Stuart, Cardinal of 
 York, between 1780 and 1784 show a considerable advance 
 and improvement both in grammar and style, due perhaps 
 to Alfieri's early literary influence. The five remarkable 
 love-letters directed to Francesco Gori, Alfieri's chosen 
 friend, date from the autumn of 1783, and are couched in 
 
 b xvii 
 
Introduction 
 
 tolerable Italian, whereas almost the whole of her corres- 
 pondence was usually conducted in French. Of her 
 innumerable letters to Alfieri himself scarcely a line 
 remains, all of them having been purposely destroyed 
 either by Alfieri, by the Countess, by Fabre, or by Fabre's 
 executor. By far the most important of the various pub- 
 lished carte ggi is that addressed jointly to Madame Teresa 
 Mocenniand the Arch-priest Luti at Siena between 1797 
 and 1 802, which has been most ably edited and published by 
 Monsieur Leon-G. Pelissier (Paris, A. Fontemoing, 1904). 
 Next perhaps in interest ranks the shorter correspondence 
 with Ugo Foscolo, edited by Signore Antona-Traversi 
 so long ago as 1887. From both these volumes we have 
 drawn freely in this present work. Although, perhaps, 
 quantities of unpublished letters of the Countess are still 
 in existence, it is pretty certain that what remains wholly 
 unknown cannot equal in interest or value these two sets 
 of letters to Teresa Mocenni and to Ugo Foscolo. 
 
 Letters addressed to the Countess of Albany by her 
 many friends previous to the death of Alfieri are rare, a 
 circumstance which may, perhaps, be explained by the 
 loss of her library and effects during the Reign of Terror 
 in Paris. From the opening years of the nineteenth 
 century, however, we have a vast mass of correspondence, 
 consisting largely of letters preserved in the Musee Fabre 
 at Montpellier. So early as 1863, Monsieur St. Rene 
 Taillandier edited the letters of Sismondi to the Countess 
 between 1807 and 1823, including in the same volume a 
 selection of letters, much mutilated by their editor, to 
 the Countess from Madame de Souza, Madame de Stael, 
 and others. The numerous letters at the Musee Fabre 
 were, however, not thoroughly or properly arranged, 
 edited and printed until recent years, when Monsieur 
 Pelissier undertook this task. His bulky Portefeuille 
 de la Comtesse £ Albany (Paris, Fontemoing 1902), which 
 is intended to afford " materials for the life of a woman 
 and for a society," contains no fewer than 359 letters, in 
 addition to a large number of stray notes and fragments, 
 xviii 
 
Introduction 
 
 from a most heterogeneous set of friends and acquaintances 
 of almost every nationality. This most valuable work 
 has been extensively perused and consulted by me ; yet, 
 frankly speaking, it cannot be said that the contents of the 
 Portefeuille are very absorbing, if taken as a whole ; since 
 letters of genuine interest or of literary charm, such as 
 those of Madame de Souza and Carlo Poerio, form the 
 exception rather than the rule in this voluminous col- 
 lection. Having given this signal proof of his industry 
 and interest in this subject, we venture to hope that in 
 course of time Monsieur Pelissier will edit for us (as, 
 indeed, he seems in one place to promise), the whole 
 mass of the letters of the Countess to her friends at Siena, 
 numbers of which still remain in manuscript in the 
 libraries of Siena, Milan, and Florence. 
 
 Again, what has become of the many letters of the 
 Countess addressed to Sismondi ? We have a great many 
 of Sismondi's letters to her, and there can be no reason 
 to doubt that the historian carefully preserved the replies 
 which this great lady, " his sole source of pride," deigned 
 to write to himself. The Countess' letters to so public 
 and distinguished a personage as the novelist Madame 
 Adele de Souza must also remain in safe if hidden keeping. 
 Undoubtedly, there still exists plenty of material to be 
 sought and found in connection with the life-story of 
 Louise Countess of Albany, and the present volume aims 
 rather at giving a picture of her personality from the 
 numerous sources at present available than of presenting 
 the reader with a number of new facts concerning the 
 chequered career of the Last Stuart Queen. 
 
 xix 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Amongst the printed books dealing with the life and times of the Countess 
 of Albany, I have found the following list of especial use and value during 
 the progress of this work : 
 
 Baron Alfred von Reumont. Die Grafin von Albany. (Berlin, i860.) 
 Quoted as Reumont. 
 
 Saint-Rene Taillandier. La Comtesse d'Albany. Included in vol. 
 xxxi. of La Revue des Deux Monies. (Paris, 1 861 .) Quoted as Taillandier. 
 
 " Vernon Lee." 'I he Countess of Albany. " Eminent Women Series." 
 (London : Allen and Co., 1884.) Quoted as Vernon Lee. 
 
 Leon-G. Pelissier. Le Porte feuille de la Comtesse d? Albany. (Paris : 
 Fontemoing, 1902.) 
 
 Lettres Inedites de la Comtesse d? Albany d ses Amis de Sienne. (Paris : 
 Fontemoing, 1904.) 
 
 C. Antona-Traversi. Lettere Inedite di Luigia di Stolberg, Comtessa 
 d' Albany a Ugo Foscolo. (Roma, 1887.) 
 
 E. Del Cerro. Vittorio Alfieri e la Comtessa d? Albany. Storia di una 
 Grande Passione. (Torino : Roma, 1905.) 
 
 E. Bertana. V. Alfieri studiato nella Vita, nel Pensiero e nelV Arte 
 (Torino, 1902.) Quoted as Bertana. 
 
 Leon-G. Pelissier. Lettres et Merits divers de la Comtesse d? Alb any. 
 (Paris, 1901.) 
 
 G. Mazzatinti. Lettere Edite ed Inedite di V. Alfieri. (Torino, 1890.) 
 
 Le Carte Alferiane di Montpellier. (Giornale Storico della Letter atur a 
 Italiana. Vols, iii., iv., and ix.) 
 
 E. Teza. Vita, Giornale e Lettere di V. Alfieri. (Firenze, 1861.) 
 
 R. de Bourdelles. fctudes Italiennes. V. Alfieri. (Paris, 1907.) 
 
 C. Milanesi. V. Alfieri in Siena. (No date or place.) 
 
 C. Milanesi e J. Bernardi. Lettere Inedite di V. Alfieri. (Firenze, 
 1864.) 
 
 xxi 
 
Bibliography 
 
 Baron A. von Reumont. V. Alfieri in Alsazia. (Archivio Storico 
 Italiano. Serie iv., vol. x.) 
 
 Gli Ultimi Stuardi. (Archivio Storico Italiano. Serie iv., vol. viii.) 
 
 D. Silvagni. La Corte e la Societd Romana nei Secoli XV 111. e XIX. 
 Firenze, 1881.) Quoted as Silvagni. 
 
 Count Vittorio Alfieri. Vita di V. Alfieri scritta da Esso. (Londra, 
 1807.) Quoted as Vita. 
 
 Of ere. (Italia, 1822.) 
 
 Poesie Amorose. (Forming vol. xv. of the Opere di V. Alfieri, pub- 
 lished at Piacenza in 18 10.) 
 
 The Tragedies of V. Alfieri. Translated by E. A. Bowring, C.B. 
 (London, 1876.) 
 
 Massimo d'Azeglio. I Miei Ricordi. (Firenze, 1867.) 
 
 C. A. Fabris. Studii Alfieriani. (Firenze, 1895.) 
 
 G. Biagi. Aneddotti Letter ari. (Milano, 1896.) 
 
 G. Calligaris. Un Carteggio della Comtessa d > Albany. (Reale Instituto 
 Lombardo, Rendiconti. Vol. xxxiii., serie ii., Milano, 1900.) 
 
 R. Tomei-Finamore. La Comtessa £ Albany e il suo Carteggio Senese 
 (Rivista Abruzzese, 1892.) 
 
 A. Sassi. II Degno Amore di V. Alfieri. (Nuova Antologia, vol. cxci.) 
 
 La Vedovanza deW Arnica di. V . Alfieri. (Nuova Antologia, vol. cxcii.) 
 
 E. Grimaldi. V . Alfieri e il suo Degno Amore. (Matera, 1906.) 
 " Jarro." V. Alfieri in Firenze. (Firenze, 1896.) 
 
 G. Sforza. Dodieci Storici Aneddotti. La Vedova di un Pretendente e 
 Napoleone I. in 1 804. (Modena, 1895.) 
 
 G. Conti. Firenze Vecchia. (Firenze, 1899.) 
 
 Leon-G. Pelissier. Canova, la Comtesse d? Albany et le Tombeau de Alfierii 
 a Sta. Croce. (Nuovo Archivio Veneto. 1902.) 
 
 E. Del Cerro. Epistolario . . . di Ugo Foscolo e di Quirina Mocenni 
 Magiotti. (Firenze, 1904.) 
 
 A. D'Ancona. Un Segretario delf Alfieri. (Varietd Storiche e Letter arie, 
 serie i. Milano, 1883.) 
 
 C. A. Ste. Beuve. Nouveaux Lundis. Vols, v., vi. (Paris, 1866.) 
 
 St. Rene Taillandier. Lettres Inedites de J.C.L. Sismondi, etc. y d Madame 
 la Comtesse d? Albany. (Paris, 1862.) 
 
 E. J. De Lecluze. Souvenirs de Soixante Annees. (Paris, 1862.) 
 
 L. Dutens. Memoir es d'un Voyageur qui se repose. (Londres, 1806.) 
 
 xxii 
 
Bibliography 
 
 Historical MSS. Commission Reports, Appendix, Part vi. of Tenth 
 Report. (London, 1887.) 
 
 Edinburgh Review. (The Countess of Albany, the Last Stuarts, and Alfieri, 
 vol. cxiv., pp. 145-182, 1861.) 
 
 Marchesa Vitelleschi. A Court in Exile. (London : Hutchinson and 
 Co., 1903.) 
 
 H. M. Vaughan. The Last of the Royal Stuarts. (London : Methuen 
 and Co., 1906.) 
 
 J. H. Jesse. Memoirs of the Pretenders. (London, 1845.) 
 
 Earl Stanhope. Decline of the Last Stuarts. (Roxburgh Club's Publica- 
 tions, 1845.) 
 
 A. C. Ewald. Life of Prince Charles Stuart. (London, 1904.) 
 
 J. Doran. Mann and Manners at the Court of Florence. (London, 1876.) 
 
 J. Siebermacher. Hohe adel Deutschland. Wappenbuch. (Nurnberg, 1878.) 
 
 De la Chenaye-Dubois et Badier. La Dictionnaire de la Noblesse. (Paris 
 1866.) 
 
 J. Hubner. Genealogiche Tabellen. (Leipzig, 1737.) 
 G. E. C. [ockayne]. Complete Peerage. (London, 1887.) 
 
 xxiii 
 
SEIZE QUARTIERS, 
 
 OR GENEALOGICAL TABLE OF THE LINEAL ANCESTORS OF LOUISE COUNTESS OF ALBANY 
 
 Henri-Ernest- 
 Prince 
 de 
 
 Stolberg-. 
 Wernigerode 
 
 Anna-Eliza- 
 beth de 
 Stolberg 
 
 Gustave-Adolphe^Madeleine- 
 Due de Sibylla 
 Mecklenburg- de 
 Gvistrow Holstein- 
 Gottorp 
 
 Louis- 
 Charles, Prince^ 
 de Stolberg 
 (2nd son) 
 
 1683 
 
 Gustave-Adolph 
 Comte de 
 Nassau- 
 Saarbriicken 
 
 Christine 
 =de Mecklenburg- 
 Giistrow 
 (2nd wife) 
 
 Eleanore-Clare 
 de 
 
 Hohenlohe- 
 Neuenstein 
 
 Henri-Frederic 
 Comte de 
 Hohenlohe- 
 Langenburg 
 
 Louis - 
 Craton, Comte= 
 de 
 Nassau- 
 Saarbriicken 
 
 Julienne-Doro- 
 thee de 
 Chastel 
 
 Eugene-Maxi-=Marie-Jeanne 
 
 milien, Prince 
 de Homes, 
 Comte de 
 Baucignies 
 
 Frederic- 
 Charles, Prince= 
 de 
 
 Stolberg- 
 Gedern 
 
 1719 
 
 1699 Philippe- 
 Henriette de 
 Hohenlohe- 
 Langenburg 
 
 Louise 
 =de Nassau- 
 
 de 
 Croy 
 
 Henri- Louis - 
 Ernest, 
 Prince de 
 Ligne 
 
 Philippe- 
 Emmanuel= 
 Prince de 
 Homes 
 
 1694 
 
 •Jeanne d'Ara- 
 gon et 
 Ben a Vides 
 
 Robert Bruce=Lady Diana 
 
 Earl of 
 Elgin and 
 Ailesbury 
 
 Grey 
 
 Louis d'Argen-=Marie-Gilberte 
 teau, Comte de 
 d'Esseneux | Locquenghien 
 
 Antoinette 
 =de Ligne 
 
 Thomas 
 Bruce, Earl= 
 of Elgin 
 
 and 
 Ailesbury 
 
 1700 
 
 Charlotte 
 =d'Argenteau, 
 Comtesse 
 d'Esseneux 
 
 Saarbriicken 
 
 Maximilien 
 Emmanuel^ 
 
 Prince 
 de 
 
 Homes 
 
 1722 
 
 Gustave- 
 Adolphe, Prince= 
 de 
 
 Stolberg-Gedern 
 (2nd son) 
 
 Lady 
 =Charlotte 
 Bruce 
 
 1751 
 
 Elizabeth- 
 =Philippine-Claudia, 
 Princesse de Homes 
 et 
 
 Comtesse de Baucignies 
 
 Louise-Maximilienne 
 
 (co-heiress) 
 Princesse de Stolberg- 
 Gedern, 
 Comtesse d' Albany 
 
 [Talc 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 YOUTH AND MARRIAGE 
 
 " As for myself, I have experienced misfortune from my earliest 
 years. I was born the eldest of the children of my mother, who 
 wanted a son and consequently received me ill and treated me 
 with intense harshness all my youth up, placing me in a nunnery, 
 where I learned nothing, in order to save herself expense and 
 have more money for her own amusements ; for my mother has 
 never thought of aught else than to play, to enjoy life and to 
 wear pretty dresses up to her present age of sixty-five. She 
 wedded me, so as to get rid of me, to the most odious man that 
 ever existed ; a man who united in his own person every ima- 
 ginable failing and prejudice, in addition to the lacquey's special 
 vice of drunkenness." — Letter of the Countess of Albany to Teresa 
 Mocenni, July 9, 1798. 
 
 The marriage of Gustave-Adolphe, second son of the 
 Prince of Stolberg-Gedern, with Elisabeth-Philippine- 
 Claudia, Princesse de Homes, proved the means of unit- 
 ing a large number of noble and semi-regal houses in 
 Germany and Flanders, and even in lands more remote 
 The family of the bridegroom, one of the oldest and 
 most distinguished in the Empire, actually claimed kinship 
 with the proud Italian feudal stock of Colonna, for the 
 court heralds were wont to speak of a common ancestor 
 of the two families in a certain Otho de Columna, a 
 friend of the Emperor Justinian. Through his mother, 
 the Prince was closely connected with the Counts of 
 Nassau-Saarbrucken and the Princes of Hohenlohe- 
 Langenburg, and through his paternal grandmother with 
 the ducal House of Mecklenburg-Giistrow. On the 
 bride's part, the Princes of Homes ranked amongst the 
 first of Flemish houses and were nearly related to the de 
 
 A I 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Lignes and the Counts of Esseneux ; whilst through her 
 mother, Lady Charlotte Bruce, the youthful Princess of 
 Stolberg-Gedern could claim alliance with the British 
 earldoms of Elgin and Stamford. From a rapid glance 
 at the genealogy given in this book,* it will be at once 
 perceived how varied but interesting an admixture of 
 German, French, Flemish, British and even Spanish 
 blood was destined to flow in the veins of any descendants 
 of this illustrious pair. 
 
 In course of time, the young wife, who was Princesse 
 de Homes and Comtesse de Baucignies in her own right, 
 as the younger daughter and co-heiress of Prince 
 Maximilien-Emmanuele de Hornes,t became the mother 
 of four children, all daughters. Three months after the 
 birth of Gustavine, the youngest, in the summer of 1757, 
 Prince Gustave-Adolphe himself met with a soldier's 
 death on the battle-field of Leuthen, fighting in behalf 
 of his sovereign, the Empress-Queen Maria-Teresa, 
 against the victorious forces of Frederick the Great of 
 Prussia. Thus at the early age of twenty- four did the 
 Princess of Stolberg-Gedern find herself left a widow with 
 four infant daughters, with scanty means at her disposal, 
 and without any prospect of future wealth, for it was upon 
 the chances of her late husband's military career and 
 expected appointments that the youthful pair had built 
 their hopes for an assured position in the future, worthy 
 of their exalted birth and connections. The bereaved 
 lady was, therefore, only too glad to avail herself in her 
 undeserved and unforeseen distress of the help promptly 
 and generously offered her by the Empress-Queen, who 
 was always ready to reward past services, and whose warm 
 sympathy was especially aroused by the premature close 
 of this young prince's career. 
 
 The eldest of the four daughters of this match, 
 Louise, whose life-story forms the subject matter of this 
 
 * See Genealogical Table on p. xxiv. Also Reumont, vol. ii., pp. 135, 138, 
 and Appendix, p. 281. 
 t Together with her elder sister, the wife of Prince Salm-Kyrburg. 
 
 2 
 
Youth and Marriage 
 
 biography, was born and baptised in the old cathedral 
 city of Mons in Hainault on September 20, 1752, the 
 registry of her baptism being couched in the following 
 explicit terms. 
 
 " On the twentieth day of September 1752 was bap- 
 tised Louise-Maximilienne-Caroline-Emmanuele, legiti- 
 mate daughter of his Highness Prince Gustave-Adolphe 
 of Stolberg, Colonel, and of her Highness the Princess 
 Elisabeth of Homes, husband and wife. Her god-fathers 
 were his Highness Prince Maximilien-Emanuel of Homes, 
 knight of the Golden Fleece of the first class, and his 
 Highness Prince Frederic Charles, Prince of Stolberg. 
 Her god-mothers were the very illustrious and noble 
 dame, Alexandrine, Princesse de Croy, canoness of Saint 
 Wandru, acting on the part of her Highness the Princess 
 Louise of Stolberg nee Princesse de Nassau (whose Chris- 
 tian name was evidently bestowed specially on her infant 
 god-daughter), and her Highness the Princess Albertine 
 of Homes, nee Princesse de Gavre." # 
 
 Left fatherless, as we have already explained, at the 
 tender age of five, the prospects of the little Louise at 
 once became the particular care of the good-natured 
 Empress. In her seventh year the child was sent to be 
 educated in the school attached to the chapter of St. 
 Wandru in Mons, perhaps the most wealthy and exclu- 
 sive of the various noble chapters in the Austrian Nether- 
 lands, that were specially reserved for the convenience of 
 impoverished members of the great houses of the Em- 
 pire. The widowed Princess of Stolberg, always devoted 
 to society and amusement to the day of her death, felt 
 only too thankful to be rid of one of her children, whose 
 existence was ever a source of trouble and expense to 
 herself, so that in the quiet cloisters of Mons the child 
 was brought up and given such instruction as the spirit of 
 the eighteenth century demanded in the case of a young 
 princess. In after years, when embittered by matrimonial 
 and financial troubles, Louise of Stolberg was wont to 
 * Reumont, Appendix, p 282. 
 
 3 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 speak with intense bitterness of the alleged grievances of 
 her youth at Mons, accusing her mother of parsimony 
 and indifference, and declaring she had received no edu- 
 cation worthy of the name ; but it is easy to perceive that 
 these belated complaints were greatly exaggerated. 
 Neither mother nor daughter certainly were ever imbued 
 with mutual affection ; but it is reasonable to suppose 
 that Louise of Stolberg must have been tolerably happy 
 and fairly well instructed at Mons according to the low 
 standard of a frivolous age. As the child grew towards 
 womanhood, the kindness and interest of the Empress 
 were again manifested in a notification of her coming 
 election to the first vacant prebend in the chapter, which 
 was ruled by no less a personage than the Princess Anne- 
 Charlotte of Lorraine, sister-in-law of the Empress herself. 
 
 The registers of the Chapter of St. Wandru give brief 
 official particulars of the reception both of Louise and of 
 her next sister Caroline-Augusta into the body of les 
 dames chanoinenesses in the summer of 1767. 
 
 " On the 20th of June 1767 Mademoiselle Louise- 
 Maximilienne-Caroline-Emmanuele, legitimate daughter 
 of the noble and illustrious Gustave-Adolphe, Prince of 
 Stolberg and of the Holy Roman Empire, late lieutenant- 
 general of the forces of Her Imperial Majesty the Apos- 
 tolic Queen, and of the noble and illustrious Lady, 
 Elisabeth-Philippine-Claudia, Princess of Homes and of 
 the Empire, who was baptised on September 20, 1752, has 
 been put in possession of the prebend of St. Wandru, 
 become vacant through the marriage of Princess Marie- 
 Anne-Victoire of Salm with the Duke of Lerma, in ac- 
 cordance with the Letters Patent of Her Imperial Majesty 
 the Queen- Apostolic given at Vienna on December 21, 
 1 761. The usual ceremonies were performed; the 
 usual office in the morning was said ; the Count of 
 Mastaing took the required oath in her name ; and she 
 herself made the customary offering of a piece of gold 
 in the presence of the officials." * 
 
 * Reumont, Appendix, p. 283. 
 
 4 
 
Youth and Marriage 
 
 As in the case of her predecessor, the fortunate Prin- 
 cess Marie of Salm, the acceptance of one of these well- 
 endowed and convenient semi-ecclesiastical posts was 
 hoped to form merely the stepping-stone to a brilliant 
 match, failing which expectation the revenues of the 
 prebend of St. Wandru would manage to keep their 
 owner comfortably in single-blessedness, for Louise of 
 Stolberg, apart from her prebendal stall, was absolutely 
 destitute. 
 
 The easy-going practice of the day allowed Louise and 
 Caroline-Augusta frequently to leave the cloister of St. 
 Wandru and to attend the assemblies of Brussels, which 
 formed the especial delight of their worldly-minded 
 mother. In society the two sisters speedily attracted 
 attention, for both were pretty and agreeable, whilst the 
 elder was already becoming noticed for a piquant con- 
 versation and a thirst for learning, which were far from 
 usual in a young woman of her birth and breeding. 
 Strange to say, the first definite offer of marriage that 
 commended itself to the Princess of Stolberg was directed 
 to Caroline- Augusta, then barely sixteen years of age. 
 This proposal was made on behalf of the young Marquis 
 of Jamaica, son and heir of the Duke of Berwick, head of 
 the important House of Fitz-James, that was sprung from 
 the famous Duke of Berwick, the natural son of King 
 James II. of England and the frail Arabella Churchill, 
 whose shame had done so much to raise the fortunes of 
 her unscrupulous brother, John Churchill, Duke of Marl- 
 borough. As the heir of a great and wealthy nobleman 
 who was thrice a duke — of] Berwick in Britain, of Liria 
 in Spain, and of Veragua in Portugal — * as well as a Spanish 
 grandee and prince of the Empire, such a match was 
 naturally welcomed by the Princess of Stolberg, whose 
 sole aim seems to have been the mating of her daughters 
 with persons of wealth and position. In all probability 
 the one drawback to this union in the eyes of the Princess- 
 Mother was the circumstance that it was Caroline- 
 * Dictionnaire de la Noblesse. Tome viii., pp. 66-73. 
 
 5 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Augusta and not Louise that had been selected, for she 
 herself and her eldest daughter owned little or no affec- 
 tion for one another. But the forthcoming marriage 
 with the heir of the Duke of Berwick was destined to lead 
 quite unexpectedly to a second and a yet more brilliant 
 alliance, concerning which, however, political complica- 
 tions made it prudent for the delighted woman to keep 
 absolute silence for the time being. The betrothal of 
 the young Marquis de la Jamaique with Caroline- 
 Augusta of Stolberg-Gedern had moved the elderly Due 
 de Fitz-James, his uncle, to treat with the Princess of 
 Stolberg on behalf of a very exalted personage, who was 
 graciously wont to acknowledge a relationship between 
 himself and the illegitimate House of Fitz-James. This 
 was none other than the Chevalier Charles-Edward 
 Stuart — the Charles III. of the Jacobites and the Young 
 Pretender of the Hanoverians — who was now fifty years of 
 age, a wanderer of damaged health and reputation, but 
 still of some slight value to the cause of French policy 
 as the representative of an exiled royal line ; al- 
 though, as Sir Nathaniel Wraxall aptly remarks, " the 
 French court may, indeed, be censured in the eye of 
 policy for not having earlier negociated and concluded 
 the Pretender's marriage, if it was desired to perpetuate 
 the Stuart line of claimants to the English crown." * 
 
 At this precise moment, however, the French Govern- 
 ment, always willing to wound, though half afraid to strike 
 at British prestige and prosperity, had suggested the 
 advisability of marriage to the unhappy and discredited 
 Pretender, who thereupon eagerly hastened to Paris, only 
 too ready to allow himself to be dragged forth once more 
 from ignominious obscurity to be made a pawn on the 
 great chess-board of European politics. Charles was 
 treated with scant ceremony in Paris, where he was not 
 even permitted access to the King, and was finally re- 
 quested to quit the city altogether on the demand of the 
 
 * H. B. Whcatley, Memoirs of Sir N. W. Wraxall, vol. i., p. 213. (London 
 1884.) 
 
 6 
 
Youth and Marriage 
 
 English ambassador, although the matrimonial scheme 
 was still pursued by the French ministers, who covered 
 themselves with lying protestations that no such affair 
 was afoot. Under the direction of the old Due de Fitz- 
 James, who was now upholding the interests of the head 
 of the House of Stuart, these intrigues were proceeding 
 with the greatest secrecy throughout the autumn months 
 of 1 77 1 ; amongst other princesses, Marie-Louise of 
 Salm-Kyrburg and Isabella of Mansfeld being approached 
 in the matter without success. What ultimately decided 
 on the choice of Louise of Stolberg-Gedern for this 
 particular purpose was no doubt, the actual marriage of 
 her younger sister with the Marquis of Jamaica in the 
 October of this very year. The splendour of a so-called 
 royal alliance, the substantial dowry offered by the French 
 court, and also perhaps the golden chance of getting rid of 
 a satirical and rebellious daughter were sufficiently 
 strong inducements to make the Princess-Mother over- 
 look certain very real dangers involved in this match 
 Her main fear was, of course, the inevitable wrath of the 
 Empress-Queen, the patroness and almoner of the whole 
 family of the deceased Gustave-Adolphe, but this grave 
 risk the determined lady boldly decided to run. Ignoring 
 political complications therefore, the Princess of Stolberg- 
 Gedern promptly gave her own consent to the proposed 
 match, and easily obtained that of her daughter of nine- 
 teen, who was far too young and inexperienced to realise 
 the true nature of this royal alliance with a man of fifty 
 that was being judiciously dangled before her eyes. With 
 great secrecy the young Louise was taken to Paris, and 
 there wedded by proxy to Prince Charles-Edward 
 Stuart, who was himself impatiently awaiting the arrival 
 of his consort in Rome, the place of his birth and his 
 residence since his father's death in 1766.* Nor from 
 
 * Hist. MSS. Commission. Tenth Report. Appendix. Part vi., pp. 222, 
 223. The whole story of the marriage negociations and financial arrange- 
 ments between Charles Stuart and Louise of Stolberg can be traced in this 
 volume from pp. 222-233. 
 
 7 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 what was reported to him by Lord Caryll, Colonel Ryan, 
 the Due de Fitz-James and other devoted adherents 
 who were in the secret, had he any reason to feel uneasy 
 about the unseen bride that the half-contemptuous 
 bounty of the French court had thus enabled him to 
 marry and maintain. Although he had failed in the 
 days of his buoyant youth and bright hopes to ally himself, 
 as his father had warmly recommended, with one of 
 " the first princesses in Europe," yet Louise of Stolberg- 
 Gedern, albeit only the penniless daughter of a German 
 princeling, was from the point of birth fit to mate with 
 the highest sovereign in Europe, and was, indeed, as 
 highly connected as the Princess Clementina Sobieska, 
 bride of the titular King James III. Her youth, her 
 charm, her health, her wit were all that could be desired 
 by a middle-aged monarch and by such of the old Jaco- 
 bite party left in Britain who still turned with feelings of 
 hope and affection to the lonely and dissolute exile in the 
 Roman palace of the Santi Apostoli. " What think you 
 of this affair ? 99 writes a Scottish adherent to Bishop 
 Forbes. " She is pretty and young, he strong and vigo- 
 rous. They may produce a race of pretenders that never 
 will finish, which the French will be always playing upon 
 every quarrel. Cre scant laete. May they increase fruit- 
 fully. Honi soit qui mat y ^ense" * Certainly, the 
 auspices were not for the moment altogether unfavour- 
 able, for both bride and bridegroom, though they had 
 never seen one another, were at least openly set upon the 
 union. Marriages of political convenience between 
 persons of disproportionate ages have not necessarily 
 proved unhappy or disastrous ; so perhaps the cheerful 
 prognostications of this Scottish Jacobite were not 
 wholly unjustified at the moment. As for the crafty 
 Princess of Stolberg, she had counted correctly on the 
 ultimate success of her plan ; to complete the match first 
 and to bear the brunt of Maria-Teresa's wrath after it 
 was an accomplished fact. The exiled Stuarts and their 
 * Lion in Mourning, p. 265. 
 
 8 
 
Youth and Marriage 
 
 pretensions for some time past had been unfavourably 
 regarded at the Imperial Court ; whilst from the political 
 obligations that Austria-Hungary owed to Britain and 
 the House of Hanover the Empress-Queen was deeply 
 incensed at the news, as the Princess-Mother had clearly 
 foreseen. Furious at this act of deceit on the part of 
 one she had consistently befriended and honoured, the 
 Empress at once sent word to the offending Princess of 
 Stolberg, through her minister Kaunitz, never to appear 
 again in her presence, and even threatened to deprive her 
 of the allowance on which the Stolberg family relied for 
 its very existence. But the final result of all this distur- 
 bance was as the clever but unscrupulous woman had 
 anticipated. After living in retirement for a decent 
 interval, until such time as the Empress' first outburst of 
 indignation had spent itself, the Princess carefully drew 
 up a most humble and pathetic apology to her sovereign,* 
 which eventually had the desired effect of winning for 
 her the return of the Imperial favour, for Maria-Teresa 
 had apparently too much personal liking for her suppliant 
 to wish to punish with continued severity her late treache- 
 rous action, or to notice the obvious insincerity of her 
 letter of repentance. In due time the Princess of Stolberg 
 was restored to her former post at court, and the episode 
 was apparently forgiven or forgotten. 
 
 After the marriage by proxy, which took place in Paris 
 on March 28, 1772, the young bride hastened southward, 
 escorted by her mother and Colonel Ryan to Venice, 
 whence she took ship for Ancona. Charles himself mean- 
 while, all anxiety to see his chosen mate, made his way, 
 together with the Jacobite peer Lord Caryll, from Rome, 
 so as to intercept Louise at the little town of Macerata, 
 not far from the shrine of Loreto in the March of Ancona. 
 Here arrangements had been made, through the kindness 
 of Cardinal Marefoschi, Charles' chief champion in the 
 Sacred College, for the forthcoming ceremony to be 
 carried out with an amount of display suitable to the union 
 * Reumont, Appendix, pp. 284, 285. 
 
 9 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of two such distinguished persons. On the afternoon of 
 Good Friday, April 14, the expected bride at last alighted 
 at the Marefoschi mansion in the little hill-set town ; 
 whereupon the impatient bridegroom, delighted with her 
 youthful charm and prettiness, which far exceeded his 
 most sanguine hopes, at once demanded the performance 
 of the rite in the private chapel of the palace, wherein 
 there still exists a tablet to record the nuptials of " Charles 
 the Third, King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland," 
 with the Princess Louise of Stolberg-Gedern.* The 
 ominous circumstance that the wedding took place on 
 Good Friday seems to have in no wise affected the 
 husband, although in after years Louise was wont to ob- 
 serve that only misery could have resulted from an union 
 celebrated on " The Lamentation Day of Christendom." 
 The marriage itself was followed by banquets and recep- 
 tions, causing an unusual amount of stir in quiet Macerata, 
 and on Easter Sunday the pair departed for Rome. 
 
 It must not be supposed by the reader for a moment 
 that there was aught else than mutual satisfaction at the 
 beginning of this match, or that the nineteen-year-old 
 bride conceived immediately a loathing unutterable for a 
 spouse who was over thirty years her senior, and in 
 whom she discovered later a drunkard and a man of un- 
 governable temper. From the bridegroom's point of 
 view, of course, Louise was everything that could be de- 
 sired, and Charles Stuart openly expressed his sincere 
 admiration for the pretty doll-like wife with her slender 
 figure enveloped in stiff brocades, with her flaxen hair 
 rolled and contorted in the extreme of fashion, and with 
 two prominent and most unnecessary daubs of rouge on 
 her fresh young cheeks. So delighted was he with her 
 sweet smiling face, her graceful form, and even with her 
 queer and unexpected taste for literature and art, that he 
 immediately decided to show his royal approval in the 
 most practical manner by expressing his intention of in- 
 creasing this charming young creature's pin-money by 
 * Vitelleschi, vol. ii., pp. 387-392. 
 
 I O 
 
MEDALS OF LOUISE AND CHARLES STUART IN 1772 
 MEDALLION OF LOUISE 
 
\ 
 
Youth and Marriage 
 
 an additional 3000 livres ; an action that must have 
 appealed strongly to the worldly Princess-Mother. 
 On the bride's part, we have no hesitation in saying 
 she was supremely happy. Her husband's royal rank 
 appealed to her sense of pride ; his marked attention to 
 her sense of gratitude ; she was leaving a mother whom she 
 cordially disliked and about to settle in a country which 
 she ardently longed to behold. In spite of her lord's 
 blotched and puffy face, in spite even of an odour of 
 brandy which was perceptible notwithstanding all the 
 mitigating perfume, it does not appear that Louise was 
 seized with any immediate feeling of repulsion ; on the 
 contrary she rather liked this splendidly dressed middle- 
 aged Prince with his broad blue ribband and his agreeable 
 stories of past adventure. An intense thrill of personal 
 importance must also have possessed her, as she, Louise of 
 Stolberg, had been bidden to inscribe her name in the 
 marriage register as " Queen of Great Britain, France, 
 and Ireland " ; whilst she gathered from her attentive 
 husband's remarks that she might expect to be received 
 with regal honours in Rome. Even if Charles did appear, 
 to her youthful eyes, elderly and broken-down, she had 
 her compensation in the novel feeling of worldly grandeur, 
 as well as in a sense of escape from the dull cloister of St. 
 Wandru and the irksome tutelage of her mother. Heaven 
 considerately hides the book of inevitable fate from all its 
 creatures, so that Louise was only engrossed in the fleeting 
 moment, which seemed to open before her a vista of royal 
 honours, of an adoring spouse, of a palace, of jewels, and 
 of liberty in the most delightful city of Europe. Dis- 
 illusion and discontent were bound to arise later ; but 
 for the time being the Stuart Queen probably fancied 
 herself far happier and more fortunate than the sister who 
 had made a less important match. 
 
 As the bridal pair approached the Eternal City, they 
 found in waiting for them at the Ponte Molle various 
 carriages of state, including those of Henry Stuart, Car- 
 dinal-Duke of York, the younger brother of Charles Stuart, 
 
 1 1 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 who had sent his chamberlain Marchese Angelelli ahead 
 to welcome his sister-in-law. With out-riders in the 
 royal British liveries of scarlet and with white cockades, 
 the gala coaches rattled through the Porta del Popolo 
 and up the narrow Corso amidst a goodly number of 
 persons attracted partly out of goodwill towards the 
 exiled reigning House of Britain, but mostly out of idle 
 curiosity. At the palace in the Piazza Santi Apostoli the 
 Stuart King's household was drawn up in readiness to 
 receive its new mistress, who now entered the house 
 wherein the pious Queen Clementina Stuart had lan- 
 guished, a prey to fever and jealousy, and where the old 
 Stuart King had moped for years as a dejected invalid 
 deserted by his elder son and sunk into a mere phantom 
 of despised royalty. Nevertheless, the aspect of the 
 palace, so gloomy and so ill-omened, did not daunt the 
 cheerful disposition of the young Princess, who ascended 
 its staircase amid the profound obeisance of a throng of 
 well-trained servants. Perhaps, however, on dismount- 
 ing from her coach, she may have been momentarily 
 disappointed and perplexed at not seeing the promised 
 guard of papal troopers before the portals that her 
 garrulous husband had led her to expect. Charles had, 
 indeed, demanded beforehand that this special guard of 
 honour, which had been removed after his father's death, 
 should be restored to him on the grand occasion of the 
 arrival in Rome of a new Stuart Queen ; but his request 
 had been firmly refused by the Pope. 
 
 On the following morning, the Cardinal-Duke of York 
 came to visit his sister-in-law, and to bring her his bridal 
 gifts, which included a magnificent court dress stiff with 
 gold thread and rich with the finest lace, and a gold box 
 encrusted with diamonds and set with his own portrait 
 on the lid ; whilst within the costly trinket contained an 
 order on his Roman banker for the sum of .£10,000 ster- 
 ling. Although the kindly but pompous ecclesiastic had 
 been somewhat inclined to resent his brother's high- 
 handed conduct with regard to this marriage, of which the 
 12 
 
Youth and Marriage 
 
 Cardinal had been merely advised at the last moment, 
 after having been kept in complete ignorance throughout 
 all the preliminary negotiations ; yet the pretty face, 
 the graceful manners, and the deference shown to himself 
 by the bride at once captivated him, whilst he was led to 
 hope that in matrimony with so charming and innocent a 
 creature might be found the best means of inducing his 
 erring brother to abandon certain evil habits which were 
 causing deep concern to those around him. The Cardinal 
 stayed to dine at the palace of Santi Apostoli, and on the 
 following day Henry Stuart's secretary inserted his master's 
 favourable impressions concerning his first interview with 
 Louise of Stolberg in the bulky Diary, wherein all matters 
 connected with the private or official life of the Cardinal- 
 Duke were always enrolled : * " He was delighted to 
 perceive in the youthful Princess all those good qualities 
 wherewith rumour had endowed her, and particularly 
 was he pleased with her great charm of manner and her 
 intellectual attainments, for which the excellent educa- 
 tion given her by her parents was responsible. She treated 
 him on an equal footing, and with every mark of respect 
 and affection." Certainly, Louise had contrived to 
 make a complete conquest of the first personage of con- 
 sequence she encountered in her capacity of wife to a 
 de jure sovereign. 
 
 The approval and friendship of the Cardinal were to 
 prove ere long of the first consequence to Louise, for she 
 speedily found herself in a centre of hot political intrigue, 
 of which she formed herself an innocent and unsuspect- 
 ing cause. The position of Charles in Rome was anoma- 
 lous and undefined. His parents had always been acknow- 
 ledged as reigning King and Queen by the papal court, 
 whilst Charles himself half a century before had been 
 solemnly recognised as Prince of Wales by the whole 
 
 * Diario del Cardinale Duca di York — " A Diary of the Sacred Functions 
 and the Illustrious Acts of H.R.H. and Eminence the Lord Cardinal Duke 
 of York " — now preserved in thirty-six volumes in the MS. Department 
 of the British Museum. 
 
 13 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of the College of Cardinals, who had come in state to 
 kiss his infant hand. To admit his father's kingship and 
 his own sacred heritage in the title of Prince of Wales 
 was, of course, strong presumption that the treatment 
 should be carried to its natural conclusion on the death of 
 the former. From a logical standpoint, therefore, the 
 Prince had the best of the present argument with the 
 Holy See ; but seeing how changed were circumstances 
 and how impracticable it had become at this juncture for 
 the Roman Court to acknowledge the British Pretender, 
 instead of pressing his claim, Charles should have been 
 content to wait incognito for happier auspices under 
 which to present his petition to the Pope. This was the 
 attitude assumed by the Cardinal-Duke of York, and that 
 it was both a sensible and a dignified one cannot be 
 denied ; whilst it was deeply to be regretted that the 
 elder Prince had not followed his brother's good example 
 in this matter. But Charles never stopped to consider 
 whether his conduct was impolitic or ungenerous towards 
 a court which, though far from unwilling, was practically 
 unable to grant his repeated requests for a royal recog- 
 nition. Into this perennial grievance he had now dragged 
 his helpless bride, forcing her on every occasion to insist 
 on the honours due to a queen-consort, much to Louise's 
 embarrassment. It was true that at her husband's 
 request she had signed the marriage register at Macerata 
 as Queen of Britain, and had been delighted later to see 
 her childish profile on the medal struck to commemorate 
 the event ; but some private conversation with the 
 Cardinal-Duke soon roused her quick intelligence to per- 
 ceive the combined folly and uselessness of her husband's 
 pretensions, however logical in a sense they might ap- 
 pear. Even Sir Horace Mann, the British Minister at 
 Florence, who never fails to take every opportunity of 
 sneering at Henry Stuart, admits the wisdom of the 
 Cardinal's attitude on this point ; and he also adds that 
 Louise's " taking the stile of Queen was contrary to her 
 own and the Cardinal's entreaty " ; for it was to Henry 
 
 14 
 
Youth and Marriage 
 
 Stuart that the young bride constantly looked for advice 
 in the midst of the increasing difficulties of her position as 
 the wife of a disowned monarch, who persisted in declar- 
 ing that " the Queen is entitled to the same ceremonies 
 as the King, and the Prince of Wales also when there shall 
 be one." 
 
 Yet another reason may, however, be adduced to 
 account for Louise's reluctance to follow her husband's 
 lead in this matter. Such an assumption of majesty had 
 the effect of considerably lessening their social circle, 
 for it was explicitly forbidden to the Roman nobility to 
 treat as a reigning monarch the man who had once 
 everywhere been acknowledged as Prince of Wales. As a 
 queen also Louise was not permitted by her husband 
 to return the visits of the great Roman ladies, whilst all 
 who entered the Stuart palace were expected by the 
 inexorable sovereign of that tiny court to make use of 
 those very marks of etiquette that the papal govern- 
 ment out of political prudence strictly forbade. It was 
 wellnigh an untenable position, and one which could only 
 be rendered feasible and agreeable by the Pretender's 
 frank abnegation for the nonce of all these rejected 
 claims. But though this dilemma was a constant thorn 
 in her side, the young bride found much to delight her 
 during her first year in Rome. The churches, the 
 gardens, the galleries, the theatres, the public assemblies 
 were all visited by the newly-wed pair, who were received 
 on all sides with a respectful sympathy that was in reality 
 far better than a curt and grudging recognition of their 
 unprofitable claims to mock majesty. Although debarred 
 by the Chevalier's pretensions from the balls and recep- 
 tions in the Roman palaces, yet the Princess was able to 
 receive in her house many persons of every nationality, so 
 that she obtained constant opportunities of cultivating her 
 natural social talents and of indulging her decided taste for 
 the arts, science, and literature. However violent and 
 waspish he might show himself to his adherents, and 
 even to his most devoted friends, the Chevalier at this 
 
 l 5 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 stage was never anything but gentle and indulgent 
 towards his wife, who had still to learn by future experience 
 the depths of fury and sottishness to which the erstwhile 
 hero of Scotland could occasionally sink. The stories of 
 his youthful adventures were told and re-told repeatedly, 
 and the bride was still able to laugh heartily at the tale of 
 her husband's disguise in female dress, or to sympathise 
 with the evil fate of many a loyal Highlander that he 
 recalled with tears. Louise was, in short, regarded and 
 treated by Charles as a mere child, whose every whim 
 must be gratified if possible ; and thus between her hus- 
 band's flattering attentions and the novel scenes of the 
 theatre of life as seen upon so lovely a stage as the won- 
 derful city of Rome, the young Princess found existence 
 on the whole fairly smooth and pleasant, although she was 
 perhaps slowly awaking to the fact that events might 
 arise to render her husband unkind and her own life 
 miserable. Nevertheless, as we said before, she could 
 not be regarded as unhappy, for she had already found 
 many compensations for a loveless marriage of political 
 convenience. 
 
 Thus, amidst such society as her husband's palace 
 afforded her, and in the enjoyment of the many delights 
 the Eternal City was able to present, Louise was far from 
 being discontented with her lot during her first year of 
 wedded life. The young bride had at once conceived 
 for Rome an undying affection, and but for adverse 
 circumstances in the course of her stormy life, she would 
 gladly have made her permanent abode in this artistic 
 and intellectual capital, which was then attracting edu- 
 cated persons of every condition of life and of every land 
 as to a centre of the arts, of music, of antiquarian study, 
 and of congenial company. The Rome of the Clements 
 and the Benedicts in the spacious days of the eighteenth 
 century was, indeed, a fascinating place with its liberal- 
 minded government, its air of stately repose, its marvellous 
 galleries of sculpture and paintings, its gardens, its villas 
 and palaces, its magnificent churches, and its picturesque 
 16 
 
Youth and Marriage 
 
 ruins veiled in wreaths of ivy and eglantine that a more 
 prosaic age has swept away in the interest of scientific 
 excavation. Thus Louise, during her first visit as the 
 inexperienced child-wife of a querulous would-be sove- 
 reign, found Rome a pleasant place to dwell in ; and 
 quarter of a century later she could still look back with 
 regret on the fascinating city ; — " Women are well or? in 
 Rome," so she writes in after years to her friend Teresa 
 Mocenni on June 6, 1801 ; " the town is beautiful, and 
 there is good society there. It is my favourite of all the 
 places in this world, and how I should love to inhabit it, 
 for the sake of its charming surroundings especially ! " 
 
 The wearisome and never-ending controversy between 
 Charles and the Papal Court had, however, its lighter side, 
 for many of the Romans were disinclined to take the irate 
 and insistent Chevalier altogether seriously. The statue 
 of Pasquino, which always mouthed the topics of the 
 day in Rome from the gravest to the frothiest, found a 
 way of solving the difficulty by calling the new Stuart 
 bride " Regina Apostolorum," in obvious allusion to her 
 place of residence close to the great basilica of the Santi 
 Apostoli ; and Pasquino's suggestion was taken up and 
 improved upon by one of the many witty foreigners who 
 felt no scruple in partaking of the hospitality of the 
 Stuart palace ; and this new title," Regina dei Cuori " 
 (Queen of Hearts), was at least no more treasonable than 
 that contained in the pasquinade already published. 
 The author of this second complimentary name was a 
 Swiss man of letters, Carl- Victor Bonstetten of Bern, a 
 young gentleman with a handsome face and of merry, 
 agreeable manners, destined to play some part in the 
 life of this Queen of Hearts of his own adoption, whose 
 beauty and intellectual tastes he most unaffectedly and 
 openly admired, and of whose person he has left us a 
 flattering picture. " She was of medium height ; " so he 
 writes in his Memoirs ; " fair with deep blue eyes ; nose 
 tip-tilted ; and a lovely white English complexion. Her 
 expression was gay and espegle ; and not wholly devoid 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of raillery, more French than German in its nature. She 
 was enough to turn all our heads in no small degree " ; 
 and certainly she succeeded in turning Bonstetten's, as 
 we shall have occasion to describe in the next chapter. 
 
 There was in addition yet another reason for the 
 Chevalier's continual fuming and discontent, with which 
 his wife was even more closely concerned than with the 
 everlasting futile intrigues carried on by means of Lord 
 Caryll and Cardinal Marefoschi at the Papal Court. The 
 late match had been arranged by the French ministers 
 with the sole object of perpetuating the Royal House of 
 Stuart in order to have a Pretender to the British throne 
 in continual reserve ; so that the timely appearance of a 
 Jacobite Prince of Wales would undoubtedly have served 
 to raise the political status of the exile in Rome. The 
 marriage itself had had the effect of momentarily fanning 
 into a flame the dying embers of Jacobitism in Britain, 
 where for a year or so past the little band of faithful 
 adherents had been looking forward to the appearance 
 of an announcement of " the officially negociated infant." 
 Indeed, less than a twelvemonth after the ceremony at 
 Macerata, a report was actually being spread abroad in 
 England by interested persons that the Princess Louise 
 was pregnant and the Cardinal of York (that constant 
 stumbling-block to the scruples of the Protestant Jaco- 
 bites) was dead ; and this rumour the vigilant Sir Horace 
 Mann, the British Minister in Florence, eventually found 
 sufficiently important to deny formally to his Government. 
 For, as a matter of fact, there was not an atom of truth in 
 this statement, which had been circulated solely with 
 the idea of still further animating the moribund cause. 
 A whole year passed, yet there was no sign of the pretty 
 German bride becoming a mother, and the French 
 agents began in consequence to feel somewhat foolish ; 
 whilst the Chevalier grew disappointed and annoyed 
 with the consort that had been selected for him with 
 such care and mystery. From having at first shown him- 
 self indulgent and kind, he now began to appear cold and 
 
 18 
 
Youth and Marriage 
 
 cross in her presence, though at this time there is no 
 reason to suppose he ever ill-treated the wife, who had thus 
 failed to carry out the expectations formed of her. But 
 as time went on, and yet another year passed without 
 any sign of the desired infant, the prince's sense of anger 
 and disappointment increased ; more than ever he 
 resorted to drown his chagrin in the fumes of wine, and 
 gradually alienated even his staunchest and oldest friends 
 by his violence and perversity. To add to his troubles, 
 this very moment was regarded as opportune by his cast-off 
 mistress, the unhappy and ill-treated Clementina Walken- 
 shaw, and her daughter Charlotte to appear in Rome in 
 order to obtain some degree of recognition and a better 
 allowance from the prince.* It is, therefore, possible 
 that during this earlier period of her married life Louise 
 may have set eyes on Charlotte Stuart, her husband's 
 natural daughter, who was only a year younger than her- 
 self, having been christened at Liege in the name of 
 Charlotte Johnson during the autumn of 1753. In 
 spite of every effort, this pair of suppliants obtained 
 little notice from the hard-hearted prince, who ignored 
 all their tears, arguments and entreaties, and finally 
 allowed both mother and daughter to be coerced into 
 returning to their French convent with a very slender 
 allowance from the purse of the Cardinal-Duke, to whom 
 his elder brother habitually turned as his almoner for 
 whatever money was required. Finally, after the two 
 defenceless women had been obliged to quit Rome, 
 other half-forgotten scandals concerning the roving life 
 led by Charles-Edward between the date of his expulsion 
 from France and the death of his father in 1766 were 
 circulated by those who were anxious to sow further 
 discord between the papal authorities and the court in 
 exile. Old rumours of the prince's unorthodox conduct, 
 not to say actual apostacy, for political convenience were 
 
 * For this incident, see the curious account, sometimes attributed to 
 Charlotte Stuart herself, contained in St. Simon's (Euvres Comflettes. 
 Tome xii., pp. 206-208. (Strasburg, 1791.) 
 
 19 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 once more being bruited about, to the intense disgust of 
 the pious Cardinal, with whom his elder brother was again 
 inclined to quarrel. Indeed, Charles had never really 
 forgiven Henry for what he considered his treachery to 
 the Jacobite cause by accepting a scarlet hat a quarter of a 
 century before ; and the remembrance of this long-past 
 grievance, combined with their present disagreement 
 over the question of the royal recognition by the Pope, 
 tended again to embitter the two brothers, and all the 
 more so because Louise herself refused to break with the 
 Cardinal, whose sensible advice she was inclined to 
 follow. Yet in the midst of all these worries, both 
 political and domestic, the obstinate Chevalier, more 
 determined than ever to demand of the Pope that which 
 it was most impolitic and, indeed, almost impossible for 
 him to bestow, made a final petition to Clement XIV. for 
 the obtaining of a royal tribune for the expected Jubilee 
 ceremonies in the coming year 1775. Already harassed 
 and goaded by the troubles due to his recent suppression 
 of the Society of Jesus, and far too deeply engaged to 
 interest himself in so trivial a question as to whether 
 the Stuart prince should or should not be styled King in 
 Rome, the Pontiff rejected this new request in polite 
 but plain terms ; whereupon the indignant Chevalier 
 determined to betake himself and his wrongs out of the 
 Papal States ; a decision that in some vague way he 
 imagined would prove hurtful to the credit of the 
 Papacy. Shaking, as it were, the Roman dust from his 
 feet, and filled with intense bitterness against the Pope, 
 the Roman court, and his own brother the Cardinal of 
 York, the would-be monarch suddenly abandoned the 
 city in high dudgeon, taking with him his consort and 
 such few members of his household as either from secret 
 motives of self-interest or from an unquenchable sense of 
 loyalty still clung to him. And thus to her deep regret 
 was Louise of Stolberg compelled to leave Rome with 
 her determined husband after two years of married life. 
 
 20 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THREE YEARS IN FLORENCE 
 
 " Je commence a m'ennuyer beaucoup a Florence. Dans ce 
 moment nous n'avons que des Italiens, et vous savez comme je 
 les aime ! Je lis tous les contes imaginables pour me faire rire. 
 J'ai epuise toute une bibliotheque bleu. . . . Tous nos plaisirs 
 se bornent a ecouter un opera pendant quatre heures ; la musique 
 en est assez bonne. Mais quatre heures sont bien long et 
 pouroit etre bien mieux employe. Mais c'est toujours le sort 
 des pauvres femmes de faire la volonte des autres." — Letter 
 of the Countess of Albany to Carl-Victor Bonstetten, June 1775, 
 dated " Florence temps tfoublieP 
 
 On quitting Rome in the spring of 1774, the Chevalier 
 and his young wife spent a few months in the neighbour- 
 hood of Pisa. After two years of a childless marriage, the 
 chances of the appearance of a Jacobite Prince of Wales 
 seemed very remote ; nevertheless, this brief period of 
 wandering during the summer of 1774 was in much later 
 days declared the occasion of the Princess' secret con- 
 finement in a villa near the Baths of Lucca. According 
 to the fanciful tale of the Jacobite " Dr. Beaton," a 
 son and heir was born at this spot to the Chevalier, who 
 for safety's sake placed the precious infant at once under 
 the care of a certain Admiral Allen, who in his turn carried 
 off the last hope of the Jacobites to England, where the 
 child was bred as his own son and ultimately came to be 
 recognised as the " Iolair Dhearg," or Red Eagle, the 
 mysterious parent of the two self-styled Sobieski-Stuart 
 brothers, that many persons still living can recall. This 
 mendacious tale of old Dr. Beaton's, which was only 
 revealed to the two children of the alleged heir of the 
 Royal Stuarts after the death of Louise herself, half a 
 
 21 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 century later, is perhaps scarcely worthy of mention in 
 the biography of a woman, who all her life was ignorant 
 of this clumsy posthumous lie concerning herself, and who 
 frequently in her private letters mentions with satisfac- 
 tion her failure to become a mother, so that a bare and 
 passing allusion only has been made to it in this place. * 
 
 Setting aside this mischievous tale, it is enough to state 
 that before the close of 1774, the childless pair, whose 
 relations were gradually growing less harmonious, found 
 themselves in Florence, where Prince Corsini, the head of 
 a great Florentine Papal family that had always shown 
 itself markedly friendly towards the exiled Stuarts, 
 placed at their disposal his villa and garden near the 
 Prato Gate, known as the Casino Corsini. Here Charles 
 decided to settle for the present, and as Leopold L, 
 Grand-Duke of Tuscany, and his Spanish consort abso- 
 lutely ignored all claims of a British Pretender, he very 
 wisely gave out his wish that he himself and his wife 
 should henceforth be regarded as " the Count and Coun- 
 tess of Albany " ; a step that saved them from a repetition 
 of certain disagreeable incidents and slights that had 
 recently occurred in Rome. Royal etiquette was, how- 
 ever, always strictly observed within the walls of the 
 palace ; whilst even in the theatre and at public assemblies 
 the prince, especially when under the influence of wine, 
 was wont occasionally to make scenes owing to the mania 
 for royal recognition which ever exercised his mind. 
 His wife was permitted to receive, but not to return, the 
 visits of the Florentine ladies, who soon ceased to attend 
 at the Casa Stuart on realising this attitude of aloofness, 
 so that the visitors of the pair were chiefly confined to the 
 male sex ; a circumstance that was not perhaps deeply 
 deplored by the Comtesse d'Albanie, who, to use a 
 homely but expressive phrase, had always shown herself 
 to be essentially " a man's woman." In the Florentine 
 galleries and churches, the young wife found some 
 
 * The Stuart-Sobieski myth has already been analysed by myself in 
 The Last of the Royal Stuarts, pp. 275-280. 
 
 22 
 
Three Years in Florence 
 
 compensation for her regret in leaving her beloved 
 Rome ; yet it is evident from her letters of this period that 
 she did not relish her late enforced change of residence. 
 
 " You want to hear the life I lead ? " so she writes in 
 December, 1774, to her Swiss friend, Carl- Victor Bon- 
 stetten, to whom she had perhaps lost a small part, a very 
 small part indeed, of her youthful heart. " It would be 
 dismal for anybody but myself. I spend the whole 
 morning in reading. Then I dress quickly and go for a 
 walk. I have always people to dinner, and if there is no 
 opera in the evening, I go to the Casino dei Nobili * 
 and withdraw thence at nine o'clock. Then I write to my 
 friends, to whom I consecrate the closing hours of the 
 day. I like to occupy myself with writing to you, for you 
 are one of my most cherished friends ; perhaps you even 
 reign with too much authority in my heart. Would 
 that we were in the Desired Island ! I do not mean 
 England, for really I do not want to be a queen ; but I 
 should like to cross the Alps, for Italian society bores me. 
 The Florentines are unsympathetic and provincial, and 
 scandal is their sole topic of conversation." t 
 
 This extract, from the first of the letters of her corres- 
 pondence with Bonstetten which have been preserved, 
 hints certainly at a mild intimacy, almost at an innocent 
 flirtation, between the writer and the gay young Switzer 
 then about twenty-eight years of age. The letters, 
 which are in execrable school-girl French, must obviously 
 have been dispatched without her husband's knowledge or 
 consent, whereby we may infer that he did not closely 
 pry into her private affairs. The same letter also con- 
 tains the curious phrase, which has sometimes been very 
 unfairly quoted to prove that the young bride of the 
 Chevalier even so early as this was guilty of amorous 
 intrigue, before ever the irresistible Alfieri himself had 
 appeared upon the scene. 
 
 " You are the most delightful of men, and the only one 
 
 * The fashionable place of assembly for Florentine society, 
 t L. G. Pelissier, Lettres et Ecrits divers de la Comtesse d? Albany. 
 
 2 3 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 made to capture my heart, my mind and my soul. How 
 lively our friendship would be, if we could but cover the 
 five hundred leagues that separate us ! The tender 
 Maltzam often tells me : 6 Monsieur de Bonstetten was 
 the only man who would have been dangerous to you ! ' 
 and I quite believe it, for you are gay, captivating and 
 intellectual by turns. That is the type of lover I desire ; 
 one who will play the lover only when we two are alone." * 
 This is, of course, mere badinage, but it certainly sounds 
 neither seemly nor discreet in a young wife of only two 
 year's standing. The allusion to " the tender Maltzam," 
 contained in the passage quoted above, gives us, however, 
 a key to the early life and ideas of the Countess of Albany, 
 as we shall call her henceforward. This person was her 
 lady-in-waiting (and therefore presumably regarded as the 
 pink of propriety by a jealous husband), Catherine, baronne 
 de Maltzam, or Malzen,t a member of a noble Suabian 
 family, who plays an important but hitherto almost 
 unnoticed part in the life of the Countess, for she is only 
 once mentioned by name in Sir Horace Mann's letters to 
 Horace Walpole, and once only by Alfieri in his corres- 
 pondence. Born in 1735, as she tells us in a letter written 
 many, many years after to her beloved Countess,! 
 Madame de Maltzam, who had once been a canoness of 
 Mijet, was the constant friend and companion of Louise 
 from the time of her marriage, apparently, until the death 
 of Charles Stuart in 1788. " The tender Maltzam's " 
 views on matrimonial propriety were undoubtedly lax, 
 but she was evidently well aware of the necessity of keeping 
 within certain prescribed bounds, and it appears obvious 
 that these curious letters to the lively and susceptible Bon- 
 stetten were written under the supervision of Madame 
 de Maltzam herself, who probably arranged for their 
 due postage to Bern. In this early correspondence, of 
 which five letters only remain, the Countess rallies Bon- 
 
 * Lettres et Ecrits divers, p. 7. 
 
 t The name is spelt in a variety of ways. 
 
 X Le Portefeuille de la Comtesse d? Albany, p. 61. 
 
 2 4 
 
Three Years in Florence 
 
 stetten on his expected marriage with " une belle Suis- 
 seuse " — " How funny to see you the father of a family ! 
 You are cut out for that part." Again, she frequently 
 expatiates on the advantages of friendship over love, 
 declaring that her love for Bonstetten is perfectly safe 
 owing to the barrier of the intervening Alps, but she adds : 
 " Let us stick to friendship, love is too dangerous ! " 
 " If I found a man who was wholly original," so she 
 writes again, " I should adore him for ever, but I have 
 not yet discovered one to my taste or one who merited a 
 constant devotion. You alone have succeeded in touch- 
 ing this heart of stone. I felt and feared it, but the 
 vast mountains between us serve as my rampart, and I 
 needed nothing less for my protection ! " This is, of 
 course, mere fooling ; still it is not very decorous nor in 
 very good taste. Mingled with her own mock passion 
 for the fascinating Bonstetten are some obscure allusions, 
 real or imaginary, to a love alfair of Madame de Maltzam's 
 with a Monsieur Scherer. " She loves him to distrac- 
 tion, and weeps whenever we mention him. But then we 
 women have the gift of tears ! " So moralises this young 
 married woman of her more mature companion and 
 watch-dog, who is seventeen years older than herself. 
 
 These few surviving letters contain only one allusion to 
 her husband. " We are perishing of the heat," she writes 
 on July 13, 1775. " We are positively roasting. We go 
 out walking and get bored, and that is no relief. Ah, 
 if we could but dwell in your mountains, how nice it would 
 be ! Almost, yes, almost two days ago I saw the moment 
 when I was to become mistress of my own fate. Death 
 and disease, the foes of mortals, danced over the head of 
 my lord and master ; but thank God, his hour was not 
 yet come ! " 
 
 This reference to the Chevalier's illness and recovery 
 does not betray any deep affection ; but on the other 
 hand, Louise expresses herself as genuinely pleased at his 
 late escape from danger, so that we feel justified in con- 
 cluding that the pair were on tolerable if distant terms 
 
 25 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of amity in the summer of 1775 ; although it is known that 
 the Countess used to complain greatly of the long walks 
 in the heat which the Chevalier compelled her to take 
 with him. Sir Horace Mann, who was accurately in- 
 formed on all matters touching the Stuart household, 
 never mentions actual discord as existing between hus- 
 band and wife, though he frequently speaks of the Count's 
 ill-health and of his jealous and selfish nature. His 
 letters to Horace Walpole, as well as his despatches to the 
 British foreign office, tell of the drunken extravagances in 
 which the poor Chevalier indulged often at this period, 
 so that we can easily imagine the humiliation her 
 husband's behaviour in public must sometimes have 
 brought to the young and sensitive wife, who was obliged 
 to sit night after night at the theatre, whilst her lord lay 
 fuddled on a sofa in the box beside her.* Drunkenness 
 was itself absent from the lengthy list of fashionable vices 
 to be found and tolerated in Italian society, and for this 
 cause alone the unhappy Countess was pitied by the 
 Florentine ladies she affected to despise. Gaming, 
 pilfering, infidelity, dishonour, scandal ; — all were over- 
 looked or excused ; but this particular vice made* the pair 
 objects of mingled commiseration and contempt in the 
 most tattling and frivolous capital of Europe. From 
 excess in eating and drinking, the Pretender's health, 
 which had long been failing, grew much worse ; whilst, 
 as may be easily be imagined in the case of a man with a 
 perpetual grievance against fate, his temper waxed un- 
 bearable. Nevertheless, it is evident that Louise put a 
 brave face on her many domestic troubles and outwardly 
 bore herself with calm and dignity, solacing her anxious 
 mind with a severe and continuous course of study. 
 Although the jealousy of her husband, who was still vainly 
 hoping for an heir, made her very existence at times a 
 burden, yet at certain hours the Stuart palace was not 
 without its share of social entertainment and of agreeable 
 conversation or of music. Many persons, chiefly of the 
 * A. C. Ewald, Prince Charles Stuart, pp. 394-396. 
 
 26 
 
Three Years in Florence 
 
 male sex, attended the dinner that was daily spread for 
 all who cared to partake of the self-styled monarch's 
 hospitality ; and, moreover, Louise was encouraged to pay 
 court in a special degree to any young Englishmen of 
 quality making the grand tour on the Continent, such 
 as Coke of Norfolk or Danby of Yorkshire, to each of 
 whom, it would appear, she gave her miniature. Strangely 
 enough, certain writers have actually sought to make 
 scandalous insinuations against the poor lady for her 
 attentions to these rich young Britons, although it had 
 always formed part of the regular policy of the exiled 
 court to flatter and cajole such individuals both in 
 Rome and Florence. Danby has been credited with a 
 deep and romantic attachment for the Jacobite Queen 
 of Hearts ; but as Sir Horace Mann clearly states that 
 this intimacy had the full approval of the jealous husband, 
 there remains no more to be said on the subject. Mann 
 also remarks at this time that, in spite of the Pretender's 
 bad health and worse temper, " his young and amiable 
 wife behaves to him with all the attention, nay tenderness, 
 that is possible " ; and we are convinced of the truth of 
 the British envoy's statement, which is re-echoed by Dr. 
 Moore, who describes the Countess of Albany as " a 
 beautiful woman, much beloved by those who know her, 
 who universally describe her as lively, intelligent and 
 agreeable " ; or by the Abbe Dutens,* who speaks of her 
 as " the most interesting personality in Florence, thanks 
 to her face, her charm of manner and her hard lot." 
 Dutens also proceeds to describe her as being " of medium 
 height, well-formed, and with a lovely white skin, most 
 beautiful eyes, perfect teeth, a noble and courteous air, 
 and manners that were at once easy, graceful, and 
 modest." 
 
 After two years of residence in Florence as guests of the 
 Corsini, the Count of Albany, who had long been seeking 
 to buy a palace of his own, was able to purchase a fine house 
 with a large garden belonging to the Guadagni family. 
 * Memoires d'un V oyageur qui se repose, vol. ii., p. 247. 
 
 27 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 This building, remaining to-day almost in its original 
 state, stands a little to the east of the famous church of 
 the Santissima Annunziata in a quiet part of the town, 
 which in those distant days was largely covered by monas- 
 tic houses with groves and gardens. It is a massive, 
 irregular pile, picturesque but somewhat gloomy and 
 forbidding with its lower windows heavily barred, after 
 the usual manner of Florentine palazzi. The garden 
 adjoining is well-shaded with rows of ilex trees that 
 surround an open space set with curious moss-grown 
 statues of peasants, animals and satyrs. The palace, 
 which is now the property of the ducal family of San 
 Clemente, has long been closed to the public, and few of 
 the many thousands of British and American visitors who 
 annually flock to Florence, are aware that in going to 
 visit Fiesole they pass within a few feet of the house which 
 witnessed so many domestic tragedies of the Royal Stuarts. 
 The Palazzo San Clemente, as it is usually called, nowa- 
 days looks deserted, and its unkempt garden in springtime 
 is a tangled mass of tall buttercups and the gay purple 
 salvia ; but from the modern street known as the Via 
 Micheli the stranger can still observe at the highest pin- 
 nacle of the roof a small iron vane with the royal cipher 
 of " C.R." and the date 1777 ,* marking the year in which 
 the unhappy Stuart prince acquired this palace, which has 
 the distinction of being the only residence ever actually 
 owned by the exiled family during its century and more of 
 existence on the Continent. Outside his new mansion 
 Charles had placed the great escutcheon with the royal 
 arms of Britain and France and with the date of his suc- 
 cession to the nebulous realms of his father in 1766 ; a 
 circumstance that aroused the interest of the Swedish 
 Baron d'Adlerberth a few years later, who alludes to the 
 then Palazzo Stuart and its royal occupant in a letter, now 
 preserved in the archives of Stockholm. 
 
 * A charming but little-known poem on this subject was written by 
 the late Eugene Lee-Hamilton, half-brother of the Countess of Albany's 
 English biographer, the talented writer with the pseudonym of " Vernon 
 Lee." 
 
 28 
 
FORMER STUART PALACE IN FLORENCE 
 Now Palazzo San Clemente 
 
Three Years in Florence 
 
 " The Count of Albany ... is decrepit and bent ; he 
 walks with great difficulty, and so impaired is his memory 
 that he repeats himself every quarter of an hour. On his 
 sombre clothes of daily use he never fails to wear the blue 
 ribband of the Garter, and when he is dressed for any 
 ceremony he dons the mantle of the Order with the 
 ribband at the knee. The portal of his palace bears the 
 shield of England with a royal crown. He speaks with 
 enthusiasm of the exploits of his youth, and with resigna- 
 tion of his misfortunes." * 
 
 One of the royal shields, if not the identical one here 
 alluded to by the Swedish courtier, is still to be seen in the 
 entrance hall of the Palazzo San Clemente, and the ill- 
 starred house is said to possess a small chamber frescoed 
 in the gaudy colours of the royal Stuart tartan, left intact 
 by the present owners of the palace, whose ancestor ac- 
 quired it directly, in 1789, from Charlotte Stuart, Duchess 
 of Albany, the natural daughter of the Chevalier. 
 
 As mistress of the newly purchased Palazzo Stuart, the 
 Countess of Albany had undoubtedly reaped certain 
 worldly advantages from her loveless marriage. But as the 
 wife of a royal claimant to one of the first thrones in 
 Europe, her position, even at the best, was decidedly an 
 anomalous one, for she hovered, as Mr. Ewald aptly re- 
 marks, between two social worlds, one of which she had 
 voluntarily quitted, whilst a superior order firmly refused 
 her admittance on the footing of a queen-consort. It 
 would be idle, however, to speculate on what might or 
 might not have happened, had Charles chosen to act 
 reasonably and unselfishly, for his conduct was obviously 
 growing more violent and inconsiderate in proportion as 
 his health declined and his old drinking habits gained 
 upon him. Jealous he always was, but till 1777 we con- 
 fidently hold he had no just cause for suspicion in his 
 youthful wife, for the silly boy-and-girl flirtation on paper 
 with the far-away Bonstetten cannot in fairness be re- 
 garded as incriminating. Perhaps her lively sallies of wit 
 * Le Bourdelles, Etudes Italiennes. Affendix, pp. 260, 261. 
 
 29 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 or her frequent display of learning or literary attainment 
 among the guests of Palazza Stuart may sometimes have 
 aroused the sulky displeasure of her lord ; but there exists 
 plenty of evidence to show that for the three years suc- 
 ceeding their retirement from Rome, Louise of Stolberg- 
 Gedern proved herself a fairly good and attentive wife to a 
 singularly unkind and unpleasant husband. With the 
 year 1777, however, that year which by a tragical coinci- 
 dence was commemorated by Charles himself on the iron 
 vane of the Florentine palace he had bought for a per- 
 manent home, a distinct change in the relations of the pair 
 has to be recorded. Hitherto Louise seems to have 
 obeyed her spouse's arrogant commands with meekness, 
 whilst her habitual good spirits and keen interest in her 
 studies had helped her to endure if not to condone the 
 many undeserved scoldings and indignities she constantly 
 suffered at a drunkard's caprice. The cause of this 
 changed attitude and of her new determination to defend 
 herself from a life of domestic tyranny is naturally to be 
 sought and found in the appearance on the scene of a 
 lover — a distinguished, ardent, and determined lover — 
 in the person of the great Piedmontese poet, Count 
 Vittorio Alfieri of Asti, whose advent in Florence was 
 destined to bring about the turning-point in the life of 
 this beautiful woman mated with a brutal prince, who 
 had long ceased trying to win the gratitude or esteem of 
 his young wife, so as to find in her an ideal companion for 
 his old age. How far the unkind treatment and the 
 sottish habits of Charles Stuart operated in favour of 
 Alfieri's suit must be judged from the following chapters. 
 
 3° 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE POET AND THE LADY 
 
 " . . . It is my intention to become a great Poet, or to die in that 
 attempt whither all my thoughts now lead. The Lady whom I 
 adore is all the more worthy of my love, in that she in no wise 
 hinders me, but ever urges me on to the task. Beyond this I know 
 nothing ; and you will only see me again at Turin, when I am 
 old and crowned with laurels." — Letter of Vittorio Alfieri^ in 
 1779, written to his friend the Abbe di Caluso (?). 
 
 Vittorio Alfieri, son of the Count Antonio Alfieri of 
 Cortemilia, head of one of the oldest and wealthiest 
 families in Piedmont, was born at Asti in January 1749, 
 and was, therefore, nearly four years older than the prin- 
 cess who was fated in due course to become his lady-love, 
 his " Donna Amata." Losing his father whilst still an 
 infant, the little Vittorio had been educated under the 
 well-meant but not judicious guidance of a devoted 
 mother, the Countess Monica Alfieri, and of a kindly 
 step-father, Giacinto Alfieri di Magliano, a cousin of his 
 own. From his earliest years the child showed symptoms 
 of a highly-strung, almost hysterical nature ; fanciful, 
 wayward and mischievous by turns he proved an endless 
 source of trouble to his family at home and later to the 
 tutors of the Academy at Turin, whither at the age of 
 nine he was sent as the only place fit for the proper edu- 
 cation of a young Piedmontese nobleman. As soon as he 
 had attained the requisite age, the young Vittorio, as 
 master of his own considerable fortune, began to indulge 
 his strongly pronounced tastes for horseflesh and for 
 travel, (which were his distinguishing passions at this 
 
 3 1 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 early period of his life) ; for the prospect of a frivolous 
 and aimless existence in Turin at the court of his sove- 
 reign the King of Sardinia always seemed most repug- 
 nant to the wilful and erratic youth. In accordance with 
 the decadent fashion of the day, Alfieri in speech and 
 method of thought had grown up more French than 
 Italian ; he could barely speak correct Italian, and 
 when not expressing himself in the elegant French of 
 Versailles was reduced to using the unpleasing dialect of 
 his native Piedmont. Of all Italian poetry, literature and 
 history he was woefully ignorant ; and though as a youth 
 he undertook frequent visits to the chief cities of his 
 native land, the sight of the ruins of Rome, of the gor- 
 geous palaces of Venice, of the artistic treasures of Florence 
 seemed to have left but small impression on a mind that 
 had already grown weary of aught save the amorous 
 intrigue, which often constituted the sole aim and object 
 of so many young men of his own position. Journeys 
 further afield to France, England, Germany, even Russia, 
 did little to remove his apathy and indifference ; although 
 the prosperous appearance of England and the devotion 
 of its aristocracy to horses seem to have given the 
 traveller a preference for that state over the other lands 
 visited. Here and there the wanderer found solace for 
 his persistent melancholy in intrigue, and his principal 
 adventures of this type are recorded by the future poet at 
 full length and with artless comment in his curious Vita> 
 or Autobiography,* which he composed in after years. 
 At the Hague, the first glimmerings of a high-minded 
 purpose in life were made to dawn upon him through 
 the action of the Portuguese minister there, the Comte 
 d'Acunha, who presented him with a copy of the works 
 of that great prophet of Italian unity, Niccolo Machia- 
 velli, which Alfieri kept and valued to his life's end and 
 always accounted the first and best beloved book in all 
 his library.f But for the present the wise words of the 
 
 * Vita di Vittorio Alfieri, Scritta da Esso, (Londra, 1807.) 
 t " // decano di miei libri" 
 
 3 2 
 
The Poet and the Lady 
 
 great Florentine thinker brought little satisfaction to the 
 youth, who continued his restless tour of the principal 
 towns of Europe, until he found himself once more in 
 England, where he was free to indulge his taste for 
 horses to satiety. Here, however, he discovered some- 
 thing even more engrossing than the company of racing 
 men and horse-dealers, in the dangerous society of a lady 
 of fashion (and Alfieri never sought such adventures 
 outside his own class), namely, in Penelope, Lady Ligonier, 
 the wife of an Irish baron and the daughter of George 
 Pitt, Lord Rivers. The future poet's attachment was 
 warmly returned, so that many a secret meeting between 
 the pair took place, partly in London and partly at the 
 Ligonier country-place of Ripley in Surrey, whither the 
 ardent Count was wont to ride through the summer 
 gloaming, tying up his horse to a certain oak-tree in the 
 park, that was long pointed out to the curious as the 
 trysting-place of the lovers. Reports of this intimacy, 
 however, ere long reached the husband, who promptly 
 challenged Alfieri to a duel in the Green Park one evening 
 during an interval at the opera. The Italian, who was 
 handicapped by a broken wrist incurred during one of his 
 nocturnal visits to his reigning mistress, was speedily 
 vanquished by his skilled adversary, Lord Ligonier con- 
 tenting himself with bestowing a mere scratch for form's 
 sake on the stranger who had robbed him of his wife's 
 honour : all of which squalid affair is fully set forth in a 
 pamphlet of the day entitled " The Generous Husband, or 
 Lord Loelius and the Fair Emilia." * Perhaps the peer 
 was willing to show himself magnanimous towards his 
 opponent, for the simple reason that Lady Ligonier was 
 evidently a woman of light reputation ; whilst the absurd 
 climax of this romance was reached when the discomfited 
 Italian count learned that the dame for whom he had 
 risked life and limb, and was even now contemplating to 
 make his wife after the conclusion of the divorce action 
 
 * See also The Gentleman's Magazine, 1771, p. 567. Also under 
 " Ligonier " {Dictionary of National Biography, vol, xx^iii.), 
 
 c 33 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 then pending,* was also guilty of prior attachment to 
 one of her own grooms ; indeed, she seems to have 
 frankly preferred the attractions of the latter to those of 
 her Piedmontese champion. Madame de Maltzam after 
 Alfieri's death cannot help rallying the Countess of 
 Albany on her famous lover's early misadventure in the 
 English lists of love, when she heard the story, apparently 
 for the first time, through the pages of the recently pub- 
 lished autobiography of Vittorio Alfieri — " The incident 
 of his third passion," so she writes to the Countess on 
 August I, 1809, " made me laugh till I cried. I pictured 
 to myself his handsome face filled with amazement at the 
 news of her liking for her husband's jockey ! The whole 
 incident seems so inconsistent with the traditional English 
 prudery, that I had to read the passage twice through, 
 to see that I was not mistaken in it. English ladies, 
 I know, are obliging enough in their chamber or in 
 a discreet corner of the parlour ; but I had 
 no idea their complaisance extended to the saddle- 
 room." t 
 
 This unedifying episode with Lady Ligonier is men- 
 tioned here at some length for two reasons ; first, because 
 the unhappy lady who preferred her groom to an Italian 
 nobleman, unexpectedly re-appears some twenty years 
 later to her former lover when he is in the company of the 
 Countess of Albany ; and second, because the whole 
 incident throws considerable light on the moral obliquity 
 of Alfieri as a professional lady-killer and would-be victor 
 of his neighbours' wives, a pose which he candidly avows 
 in an early sonnet, wherein he jestingly alludes to his 
 conquests among the wives of careless or unsuspecting 
 husbands of his acquaintance. Where, he asks, is that 
 marvellous fountain, in which the luckless Actaeon saw 
 his brow sprouting with the branching horns that are the 
 time-honoured badge of cuckolds ? 
 
 * The writ of the Sheriff of Surrey against Alfieri in this affair is preserved 
 among the Alfieri MSS. in the Laurentian Library in Florence, 
 t Le Portefeuille, p. 63. 
 
 34 
 
The Poet and the Lady 
 
 Dov'e, dov'e quella mirabiV fonte, 
 (Grida il piu dei mariti) in cui Vaspetto 
 Vide A tteon cangiarsi, e a suo dispetto 
 Palpb Vonor della ramosa fronte ? * 
 
 We next find Alfieri pursuing his usual aimless wander- 
 ings through Europe, and finally we behold him at 
 Lisbon, where happily he met with the person who per- 
 haps above all others was really responsible for his original 
 inspiration with high ideals of literature and patriotism. 
 This was the Abbe Tommaso Valperga di Caluso, an 
 excellent specimen of the intellectual, liberal-minded, 
 well-bred ecclesiastic of the eighteenth century, whose 
 friendship and sympathy were at once valued at their 
 true worth by the inconsequent wanderer, still smarting 
 under his late experiences in London ; still bored and 
 dissatisfied with himself and his surroundings ; and yet 
 vaguely yearning after better things which seemed wholly 
 out of his reach. The Abbe di Caluso, whose brother 
 the Marchese di Valperga was Piedmontese envoy at the 
 Portuguese court, seems to have taken a strong liking to 
 his eccentric and extravagant fellow-countryman, and 
 for many weeks the learned but modest Abbe, " a veritable 
 re-incarnation of Montaigne," never ceased to encourage, 
 to instruct, and to restrain the young nobleman who was 
 still struggling to exchange a life of shallow amusement 
 for a career of literary energy. 
 
 Filled with the noble exhortations of the Abbe di Caluso, 
 Alfieri now returned to Piedmont in May 1772, a few 
 weeks after the marriage of Charles-Edward Stuart with 
 his own as yet unseen " Donna Amata." Here in Turin, 
 despite another intrigue with the Marchesa di Prie, a 
 lady several years his senior, the young aspirant began to 
 carry out the recommendations of his good friend at 
 Lisbon. Literally chaining himself to his desk, Alfieri 
 now forced himself to write the draft of his first tragedy, 
 Cleopatra, the idea of which was suggested to him by the 
 tapestries hanging in the chambers of his then siren and 
 * Bertana,p. 184. 
 
 35 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 mistress, the Marchesa di Prie, already mentioned. The 
 drama, which in reality was feeble enough, was finally 
 played by amateur actors at Turin in the summer of 
 1775, and the applause gained thereby on this occasion 
 had the effect of spurring on the poet to further efforts 
 in the field of tragedy, for he was now seized with the 
 violent desire of rescuing, as he considered, the classic 
 drama of Italy from the languid and exotic form which 
 had been recently bestowed upon it by the plays of 
 Meta,stasio, for whom he had conceived a boundless 
 contempt as the representative in literature of Italian 
 servility to courtly and foreign influence. But to carry 
 out successfully so great an aim required, as Alfieri well 
 knew, many years of preliminary toil and training. For 
 the ambitious poet had, as we said, delved little if at all in 
 that mine of literary wealth which is perhaps the richest 
 and most inexhaustible of all Italian treasures ; he had 
 forgotten his Latin, learned with tears and under pro- 
 test at the Turin Academy ; of Greek he was wholly 
 ignorant ; and his acquaintance with classical Italian 
 itself was far from sufficient for the purpose he hencefor- 
 ward held steadfastly in view. To improve his style, to 
 learn a pure idiomatic Italian, to study the great writers 
 of Italy (notably Dante, Petrarch, Ariosto and Tasso), 
 the determined poet now decided to quit Turin with its 
 many temptations to idleness and dissipation, and to 
 seek both the culture and inspiration necessary in the 
 towns of Tuscany. Accordingly, in April 1776, he set 
 out for Pisa, and thence in the summer he removed to 
 Florence, where according to a popular but somewhat 
 improbable tradition, he was first aroused to the singular 
 charm and attraction of the young Countess of Albany 
 by over-hearing her one day in the great gallery of the 
 Uffizi admire the character and appearance of Charles XII. 
 of Sweden, as she stood before the portrait of that chival- 
 rous monarch. From that hour, so the story goes, the 
 poet became her slave ; and in order to show his passion 
 at once obtained and clothed himself in garments identical 
 
 36 
 
The Poet and the Lady 
 
 with those wherein Charles of Sweden had been portrayed 
 by the artist. Thus clad, he was wont to pass before the 
 windows of the Stuart palace in order to attract the 
 notice of the Countess within. The tale is highly imagina- 
 tive, and as Alfieri himself makes no allusion to such an 
 incident in the pages of the Vita, it may be dismissed as 
 apocryphal, though it is accepted by Lecluze * and some 
 other writers. " During the summer of 1776," so he 
 writes in his Autobiography, " which I had passed wholly 
 at Florence, I had often observed a very noble and lovely 
 woman, a foreigner of most exalted birth by all accounts. 
 It was impossible not to remark her on meeting her, and 
 still more impossible was it, on once remarking her, for 
 anybody to find her aught but charming. Although a 
 large number of the Florentine gentlemen and nearly all 
 the foreign residents of quality had been received at her 
 house, I myself, always dreamy and morose by nature and 
 ever ready to avoid such women as seemed agreeable and 
 attractive, never went thither, and merely contented 
 myself by frequent glimpses of her at the theatre or 
 when out walking. The first impression she left on my 
 mind was one of infinite charm. Dark eyes with a sparkle 
 in them,t and the sweetest of expressions, in addition 
 (that which one rarely sees in combination) to a very fair 
 skin and light-coloured hair, gave a lustre to her beauty, 
 which was well-nigh irresistible. She was in her twenty- 
 fifth year, and had a sincere taste for all art and literature ; 
 she possessed a disposition that was pure gold ; yet despite 
 her abundant gifts she was rendered miserable by the 
 most distressing troubles at home. How could I ever 
 face such a tower of virtue ? " % 
 
 Such is Alfieri's own account of his first acquaintance 
 with the Countess of Albany in the summer of 1776, and 
 from it we can gather that he purposely declined to attend 
 
 * Souvenirs <Le Soixante Annies, p. 168. 
 
 t Which in his first sonnet to the Countess are called " Negri, vivaci, in 
 dolce fuoco ardentiP 
 X Vita, vol. ii. pp. 57, 58. 
 
 37 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 at the Stuart palace, for fear of falling a victim to her 
 charms and thereby wrecking his intention of carrying out 
 the great literary scheme wherewith his mind was now 
 obsessed. Hitherto, women had proved a distinct hind- 
 rance to him in his self-set career of intellectual glory, 
 so that he was determined studiously to avoid for the 
 future the society of any lady, whose influence might 
 endanger or delay the completion of the project he had 
 in view, for, indeed, it was all too true, as the chosen 
 " Donna Amata " herself remarked in after years, that 
 the Italian women were never willing to share the lover 
 with his Muse. Perhaps it was with the ever-present 
 fear of succumbing against his will and better judgment 
 to this new temptation, that Alfieri now hurriedly 
 departed from Florence and took up his residence at Siena 
 with the object of severe study and preparation for his 
 forthcoming tragedies, which were to revolutionise the 
 Italian drama itself and thereby to put new strength and 
 patriotism into the effete and corrupt minds of the 
 descendants of the ancient Romans. 
 
 The decision to settle at mountain-girt Siena, that 
 beautiful and still unspoiled specimen of an Italian mediae- 
 val free city, was fraught with important consequences 
 for Alfieri himself, and indirectly for the lady whose 
 entrancing charms he was apparently bent on avoiding in 
 Florence. In the quiet old town, perched aloft among 
 the tawny volcanic hills, Alfieri found the peaceful life 
 tempered with congenial society that his soul craved. 
 Here he quickly became intimate with a small band of 
 cultured people, consisting chiefly of a few liberal-minded 
 priests and some members of the middle and professional 
 classes, amongst whom the rich and handsome young 
 noble with his pale, haughty, clear-cut face, his masses of 
 auburn hair, his ungovernable temper but generous 
 disposition, and his varied experiences of the great world, 
 soon came to be regarded as a sort of Prince Charming of 
 genius and fashion dropped by a lucky chance in this 
 quiet provincial city. With his remarkable appearance, 
 
 38 
 
The Poet and the Lady 
 
 with his string of horses (without which the poet rarely 
 moved), with the romantic and perhaps exaggerated 
 reports of his wealth, literary ambition and eccentric 
 habits, Count Vittorio Alfieri at once became the cynosure 
 of all Siena, and the absolute idol of the little set of 
 persons whom he deigned to honour with his friendship ; 
 and as the Sienese friends of Alfieri will be mentioned 
 frequently during the course of the love-idyll of the 
 poet and the Countess of Albany, a brief account of them 
 will not be found amiss here.* 
 
 First and foremost of the members of this small 
 intellectual clique, il crocchietto saporito, as Alfieri some- 
 times names his chosen body of Sienese friends, was 
 Francesco Gori-Gandellini, whom ere long he was wont 
 to allude to as "the friend of his heart," and also as 
 " Checco," a nickname that often appears in the poet's 
 letters to another member of this group, the Chevalier 
 Mario Bianchi, of the villa Montechiaro outside Siena. 
 Gori was some ten years older than Alfieri, and his in- 
 fluence over his younger companion was extreme, whilst 
 Alfieri repaid his unselfish devotion with interest, dedi- 
 cating to him more than one of the early tragedies, which 
 he was now composing. Mario Bianchi, whose name is 
 well known in Italian literature owing to the interesting 
 and curious series of letters directed to him by Alfieri, wss, 
 on the other hand, some seven years junior to the poet. 
 A member of an ancient Sienese family and a knight of the 
 Tuscan Order of San Stefano, this young man was reso- 
 lutely set against the idea of marriage, not so much on 
 account of his hereditary tendency to consumption as be- 
 cause of his deep attachment to a certain married woman 
 of Siena, Teresa Regoli, the young wife of a cross and 
 covetous middle-aged merchant called Ansano Mocenni. 
 Teresa Mocenni, whose name will appear frequently in 
 this work, had been wedded at an early age to her present 
 unsympathetic master, a widower, to whom she had 
 
 * For a full account of Alfieri and his Sienese friends, the reader is referred 
 to C. Milanesi's interesting study, Alfieri in Siena. 
 
 39 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 already borne several children. Owing to her literary 
 proclivities, which sometimes found their vent in tolerable 
 Latin and Italian verses, Madame Teresa Mocenni had 
 contrived to draw to her small salon many persons of 
 culture and liberal views in Siena ; whilst the aristocratic 
 Mario Bianchi was openly acknowledged, according to the 
 custom of polite Italian society of the day, as her cava- 
 Here servente, or cicisbeo, or patito, a being for whom our 
 English tongue possesses (perhaps to its credit) no accurate 
 equivalent, but who is thus described in a contemporary 
 sonnet as 
 
 lo strano, indefinite ente, 
 QuelV anfibio animate ch* oggisi chiama 
 Per tutta V Italia " cavalier'' servente" 
 
 Mario Bianchi was, in other words, the cavalier that 
 fashion and custom permitted, and even expected, every 
 Italian lady of quality or influence to attract to herself 
 and to utilise as she thought proper. The homely 
 expression " tame cat " is, perhaps, our nearest English 
 approach to this type of carpet-knight, who was not 
 necessarily, even if he were usually, the ardent lover of 
 the fortunate lady who made full and frequent use of his 
 services. 
 
 One other member of this set of Sienese citizens dabb- 
 ling in poetry, philosophy and political science, must be 
 mentioned here ; namely, the Abbe Ansano Luti, the last 
 surviving member of a respected local family, who was 
 Arch-priest, or Dean of the glorious old cathedral-church 
 of Siena, that tiger-striped black and yellow Gothic pile 
 with its tall arcaded belfry that dominates the ancient 
 city. Luti, who " passed for a man of liberal and un- 
 prejudiced mind " and doubtless possessed both wit and 
 erudition, fully shared in the peculiar and immoral, or 
 rather un-moral, tenets held by most of the members of 
 this crocchietto saporito, the story of which forms quite a 
 chapter to itself in the development of the intellectual 
 and familiar life of Italy in the eighteenth century. 
 
 Amongst this pleasant and cultivated little clique, the 
 40 
 
The Poet and the Lady 
 
 fine nobleman and literary lion from Piedmont found 
 ample time both for work and relaxation. There were 
 long walks and talks with Gori in the beautiful country- 
 side that surrounds the tall red mediaeval walls of Siena ; 
 long discourses of an evening in the salon of Casa Mocenni 
 with the pretty and talented mistress of the house, " la 
 Teresina," with her handsome cavalier Mario Bianchi, 
 with the clever but self-indulgent Luti, and with a dozen 
 or so of favoured acquaintances who were admitted to 
 the circle. Here passages from the plays under construc- 
 tion were recited and commented on in the freest spirit ; 
 the works of Rousseau, Montesquieu or Voltaire were dis- 
 cussed ; and the decadent and enslaved position of Italy, 
 both intellectual and political, was openly lamented. 
 In so congenial an atmosphere, it is not surprising to find 
 how deep an affection Alfieri soon conceived for the 
 hospitable old city, its environs and its people. In a 
 sonnet belonging to this period of his life, the poet sets 
 forth the natural charms of Siena and the names of his 
 favourite companions there, telling the reader how he 
 loves the fresh breeze on the ramparts of the Lizza, and 
 even the clouds of fine white dust that to this day the 
 traveller usually encounters outside the northern gate 
 called Porta Camollla. 
 
 A Camolliamigodo ilpolverone y 
 E in sulla Lizza il fresco ventolino. 
 
 In the following year Alfieri, who had meanwhile 
 returned to his native Piedmont, once more continued 
 his studies in Tuscany. After spending some months, 
 much to his satisfaction, in his beloved Siena, he decided 
 to move in the autumn to Florence where he was destined 
 to meet again with the lady of his fate, as he records in 
 the fifth chapter of his Autobiography under the expressve 
 heading : " Degno amore mi allaccia finalmente per semfre " 
 (Pure love, enchains me for the last time and for ever). 
 He had, as we have already remarked, avoided a presen- 
 tation to the Countess of Albany of set purpose during his 
 previous visit to Florence ; but on this occasion, deeming 
 
 41 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 himself, so he tells us truthfully or untruthfully, strong 
 enough to approach the desired flame without burning 
 his wings, he allowed a friend to introduce him at the new 
 palace which had been recently purchased by the Stuart 
 king in exile. Here he speedily found his already lofty 
 estimate of its lovely mistress all too low. Her outward 
 beauty, he soon perceived, was but the least of her charms, 
 for the Countess of Albany was sincerely devoted to the 
 attractions of an intellectual existence, and the poet also 
 realised that extraordinary passion of hers for self- 
 improvement and self-culture, which was certainly one 
 of her ruling characteristics. Deeply disturbed at thus 
 finding himself an unwilling victim once again to the 
 power of love, not by reason of any moral scruple but 
 for fear of the ensuing disturbance in his pre-arranged 
 plans for a literary career, the poet suddenly quitted 
 Florence on horseback for Rome, travelling by way of 
 Siena, where he laid the whole story of his difficulties 
 before the ever-sympathetic Gori, the chosen friend of 
 his heart. The latter he now begged to visit Florence, to 
 judge for himself whether this paragon of a married woman 
 were worthy of winning ; whether her love would hasten 
 or retard his cherished desire for fame ; whether she 
 were, indeed, the one woman in the world who could 
 play the part of Aspasia to his Pericles. The ready 
 Gori assented to this rather peculiar request ; he came to 
 Florence ; he saw, watched, approved, and reported his 
 approval to the anxious lover in petto, who hastened 
 again to Florence with the avowed if secret intention 
 of winning the lady. That the Countess was at this 
 moment of his decision unconscious of the overwhelming 
 effect her beauty, her attainments and her miseries 
 had wrought both in Alfieri's mind and heart is quite 
 possible ; but it is absolutely certain that the poet, who 
 was far from unskilled in the art of husband-robbing, had 
 now girt himself to the deliberate task of depriving the 
 wretched Charles Stuart of the bride that the bounty of 
 France had bestowed upon him only five years before. 
 42 
 
CHARLES-EDWARD STUART 
 
 From the portrait by Ozias Humphry, R.A. 
 
The Poet and the Lady 
 
 That severe critic, Signor Bertana, both of Alfieri and of 
 his " Donna Amata," sums up the strange situation thus 
 in his valuable but caustic study of the great poet of Asti. 
 
 " Did Alfieri enter the Stuart palace with a ready 
 formed design ? He did enter it with an impression, a 
 very seductive one, which the Countess had left in his 
 mind ever since their first meeting. Thither he turned 
 with the thousand temptations that the charm, the wit, 
 the freshness of the young princess could inspire into his 
 easily inflammable soul. His kindly reception by Charles- 
 Edward, whose favour he well knew how to gain, invited 
 him to redouble his attentions ; any complaint that the 
 Countess allowed to escape her lips concerning her hard 
 position as slave to ' a querulous, exacting and ever- 
 tipsy old husband ' ; the shock he felt at beholding this 
 sweet flower of youth tied to a horrid old stick ; the 
 delight that the lady took in books and her pretty 
 prattle of philosophy and letters, which gave her the 
 aspect of a donna intelletuale ', served to fan the flame. . . . 
 
 " It is certain that a woman who could understand, 
 or affect to understand the fury for fame wherewith 
 Alfieri was beset ; a woman who was capable of realising 
 the poet's ambition and not merely of demanding the 
 degrading attentions of the cavaliere servente, wherein he 
 had on other occasions unprofitably wasted his time ; a 
 woman who urged him to work, and gave him leisure to 
 undertake it and obtained pleasure in criticising it, must 
 truly have appeared to Alfieri the lady of his destiny." * 
 
 It was, if we are to believe the poet's own words, this 
 unique quality of literary sympathy and understanding 
 that engendered his resolution to enter the open portals 
 of the Stuart palace, and to seek a victory over the captive 
 bride of the royal dragon dwelling therein. The moment 
 for an enterprise requiring at once caution and skill had 
 arrived ; it was a dangerous but a fascinating game, and to 
 Alfieri the game seemed well worth the candle. An 
 additional zest was, indeed, gained by the acompanying 
 
 * Bertana, p. 173. 
 
 43 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 fact that the keeper of this priceless jewel was also a king 
 by right of birth : a chance circumstance that weighed 
 not a little in the poet's ill-balanced mind, which was now 
 stocked with fierce republican opinions and ideals drawn 
 from the works of Plutarch and other classical writers 
 that he had recently been studying. 
 
 " This fourth and final fever of the heart presented me 
 with totally different symptoms from those accompany- 
 ing my former adventures. In my three earlier intrigues 
 I had not been moved by any passion of the intellect, 
 whilst in this last case the passions of the mind and of the 
 heart were commingled and equalised, producing thus a 
 feeling less fiery and impetuous, but deeper, profounder 
 and more lasting. Such was the love that ever since has 
 gradually enveloped every thought and affection of mine, 
 and will only cease with my life itself. In two months' space 
 I confessed to myself that she was the (ideal) woman I had 
 been seeking, since instead of finding in her an obstacle 
 to my literary career, a source of impediment to my 
 work, and a cause of starvation, so to speak, to my intellect, 
 I recognised in her a spur, a support and an incentive to 
 every noble effort. Once I had admitted my full appre- 
 ciation of so rare a treasure, I gave myself up absolutely 
 to my passion. Nor have I been deceived in my judg- 
 ment made twelve years ago, for at the very moment I 
 pen these words at the present mature and melancholy 
 age that knows no illusions, I feel that I love her more 
 and more every day, in proportion as time destroys the 
 only charm that is not wholly her own, the lustre of her 
 perishable beauty." * 
 
 But this account with its generous tribute to the 
 imperishable virtues of the " Donna Amata " was written 
 in after years, and cannot, therefore, be adjudged as alto- 
 gether applicable to the situation wherein the Countess 
 and Alfieri were placed after the latter's return to Florence 
 in the autumn of 1777. It was indeed, as Signore Ber- 
 tana declares, with the undoubted intention of sowing 
 * Vita, vol. ii. pp. 59, 60. 
 
 44 
 
The Poet and the Lady 
 
 the seeds of discontent and discord that Alfleri then en- 
 tered the Palazzo Stuart and partook of the hospitality, 
 warmly and unsuspectingly offered, of its luckless master. 
 For the newly accepted guest was prepared to make full 
 use of every weapon in his preconceived plot for separat- 
 ing husband and wife. He was quite willing for this end 
 to show a fair face towards the husband he was seeking to 
 wrong ; he was endeavouring for his own gain to widen 
 the breach, already sufficiently broad, between the ill- 
 matched pair ; he was also straining every nerve and 
 using all his gifts of eloquence and fascination to inspire 
 the mistress of the house that received him with a feeling 
 warmer and more tender than the natural liking, with 
 which she was certain from the first to regard so agreeable 
 and distinguished a visitor. It is an ugly and an odious 
 story, but one which Italian writers, with the solitary 
 exception apparently of Signore Bertana, treat in the 
 calmest manner, so diverse are the British and Italian 
 temperaments, and so wide apart are both their national 
 views and their legislation on domestic morality. We 
 can feel nothing save disgust and anger against the 
 deliberate wrecker of a home, even of an unhappy home ; 
 but from the Italian stand-point, such conduct as Alfieri's 
 seems to be regarded with amusement, if not with 
 applause. 
 
 45 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 A FLORENTINE LOVE TRAGEDY 
 
 " . . . O despicable race, 
 Yea, thou wilt one day see thine end. O thou 
 Last off-shoot of it, will the sword destroy thee ? 
 No, not a hand is vile enough to deign 
 To soil itself with blood like thine ; thy life 
 Will pass in one long slothful sleep, while he 
 Who'll hold thy throne will not thy foeman be. 
 The battle field will be the table ; thou 
 In drunken revels wilt the memory drown 
 Of thy unmerited, untasted reign." 
 
 (Passage inserted in the MS. but omitted in the published edition of the 
 tragedy of Maria Stuarda, by Count Vittorio Alfieri, who states in the margin 
 of the manuscript : " To be omitted as I had the misfortune of knowing 
 this person (Charles-EdwardTStuart) and do not wish to incur the stigma 
 of malignity.") 
 
 In the malice propense of Alfieri therefore, we have no 
 hesitation in declaring our belief ; but is it a very different 
 question to decide upon the exact degree of guilt or inno- 
 cence in the case of the unhappy wife of Charles Stuart. 
 Exactly when and under what particular circumstance she 
 fell wholly under the insidious spell of her husband's 
 guest we have no means of knowing. That she was 
 hopelessly in love with the poet from the beginning seems 
 improbable — we believe it took some months of seduc- 
 tive arts and cunning innuendo, as well as many a brief 
 passion-scene sought in an unguarded moment, before 
 the firm link of mutual attachment was finally forged 
 between the lover and the lady. When and how Charles 
 made the discovery (if ever he did so) of the intrigue 
 is also unknown to us ; and although Alfieri himself again 
 
 4 6 
 
A Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 declares in the Vita that he himself was never suspected, 
 but that the husband's jealousy was extended in equal 
 parts to every male visitor at his house, we have good 
 reason to doubt so very convenient but unlikely a state- 
 ment. The whole course of this strange and treacherous 
 wooing, which occupied in all three years, is still shrouded 
 in almost impenetrable mystery ; and it is remarkable that 
 during this period — that is to say, from Alfieri's first recep- 
 tion at the Palazzo Stuart in the autumn of 1777 to the 
 flight of the Countess in December 1780 — none in Florence 
 seem to have been aware of the domestic tragedy that was 
 silently developing within the walls of the Chevalier's 
 palace. Sir Horace Mann, who had sure means of learn- 
 ing every detail concerning the daily life in the Pretender's 
 household, never once in his letters makes mention of 
 Alfieri ; nor does he seem to be aware of any active 
 intrigue of this kind. He does indeed, in the spring of 
 1779, give a most lurid account of the miserable Chevalier 
 and alludes to the change in the Countess' appearance, 
 due, presumably, to her lord's bad health and worse 
 conduct. " The Pretender ... is in a deplorable state 
 of health. He has a declared fistula, great sores on his 
 legs, and is insupportable in stench and temper, neither 
 of which he takes the least pains to disguise to his wife, 
 whose beauty is vastly faded of late. She has paid dear 
 for the dregs of Royalty." * 
 
 Now, if we are to believe the ingenious theory of 
 Signor Bertana, this change for the worse in the Count 
 of Albany was due to the continual anxiety he was endur- 
 ing at the discovery (a discovery that he was perhaps too 
 proud to reveal) he had made of the guilty relations 
 between his wife and his guest. But we are wholly with- 
 out clear evidence on the point. Our own opinion is 
 that Charles, always jealous and quarrelsome, perhaps 
 disliked and distrusted Alfieri more than any other of his 
 visitors, but was unable, owing to the poet's astute con- 
 duct and apparent friendliness, ever to detect him in the 
 * Mann and Manners, vol. ii. p. 351. 
 
 47 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 smallest actual indiscretion. What does seem evident, 
 however, is that Louise was beginning to resent with 
 more spirit the cruel treatment she had hitherto endured 
 in silence, and that the ill-mated pair, a sprightly and 
 intellectual May linked with a drunken and repulsive 
 December, were leading a cat-and-dog existence which 
 was certainly common talk, though for some reason Sir 
 Horace Mann rarely alludes to their domestic jars in his 
 letters home. There is one place however, and one place 
 only, where some genuine information can be gleaned con- 
 cerning this tragedy in the bosom of the Stuart family. 
 This source is no other than the poetry of the lover himself, 
 who has, fortunately for those who are still interested in the 
 course of these events, preserved some very enlightening 
 sentences amongst his sonnets and lyrical verses composed 
 during this period of awaiting and aiding the final rupture 
 whereon he had set his heart. From the century of 
 sonnets, which in later years Alfieri published with the 
 object of glorifying his " Donna Amata," much as the 
 high-souled Petrarch had immortalised his Laura de 
 Noves, various allusions can be detected in the verses 
 that were drawn from the love-lorn poet in this early 
 phase of his infatuation for the wife of the Stuart prince. 
 Amongst a great deal of matter that is purely descriptive 
 or vaguely amatory, we occasionally find passages that 
 hint at the proceedings in Palazzo Stuart which led 
 ultimately to the flight and escape of Louise towards 
 the close of the year 1780. 
 
 The poet himself endeavours in a sonnet to describe 
 the exact moment wherein his passion was for the first 
 time returned by the object of his persistent siege and 
 of his constant but silent adoration. We cannot of course 
 name the date of Alfieri's conquest of his beautiful 
 hostess (whom elsewhere he describes as driving from 
 her hitherto undisputed throne of beauty the Venus 
 de' Medici in the Florentine Gallery) ; * but this sonnet 
 probably dates from the earlier part of 1778, not long 
 * In the Sonnet, O di Tirreno fabbro ofra divina ! (Poesie dfnorose, p. 127). 
 
 48 
 
A Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 after his return from those hurried rides to Rome and 
 Siena which we have already mentioned. 
 
 Thou lovest me ! O joy, thy radiant glances 
 
 Fall on my face with pleading innocence. 
 
 Mine own consuming fire towards thee advances 
 
 To burn thy feeble arrows of defence. 
 
 Ah, how the love-light in those soft orbs dances ! 
 
 How Cupid's jesting face is peering thence ! 
 
 The thought of victory my soul entrances ; 
 
 But why so coy, so full of diffidence f 
 
 Oft have I marked thy trembling eyes of sable 
 
 Moist with the nectar of love's silent spell, 
 
 Full of a new-found joy incalculable, 
 
 As their mysterious depths did plainly tell. 
 
 Oh, speak the word that will my tongue enable 
 
 To bless the day I came, I saw, I fell ! * 
 
 Again, the following sonnet is equally illuminating, 
 both as to the condition of misery to which the Countess 
 was reduced and as to her lover's evident intention to 
 rescue her therefrom — 
 
 0 Lady, is my fear for thee displeasing, 
 When my warm love is half compact of fear ? 
 Since I behold thee forced with grief unceasing 
 The harsh yoke of an aged spouse to bear, 
 
 Like some trapped dove in vain for mercy pleading. 
 From hands so impious and from home so drear 
 
 1 mean to snatch thee, my alarm increasing 
 With each foul act, with every falling tear. 
 Thou art a damask rose, pure, fresh and blooming, 
 Crushed in the fingers of a filthy clown ; 
 
 And yet (such strange disguise is Love assuming !) 
 I needs must curb mine ire and smooth my frown, 
 To greet with smiling face thy tyrant's coming, 
 Abhorred and dreaded, of ill-starred renown.t 
 
 This sonnet, which dates from the year 1778, tells us 
 plainly three things. First, that the lady had long 
 since made the poet her confidant of the miseries of her 
 married life ; second, that he was entreating her to escape 
 with his assistance from a hateful thraldom ; and third, that 
 
 * Ibidem, p. 122. 1u m?ami P oh gioja ! i tuoi raggianti sguardi. 
 
 t // mio temer per te, Donna, a ti spiace ? The italics in the translation 
 given are our own to give emphasis to Alfieri's expressed intentions. Poesie 
 Amorose, p. 153. 
 
 D 49 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 though doing all that was possible in secret to persuade 
 the wife to elope, Alfieri was yet ready to exhibit an 
 assumed friendship with the husband for the sake of 
 prudence. It might also be added, that the writer speaks 
 in no uncertain terms of her husband's brutality, for the 
 truth of which statement we can turn again to Sir Horace 
 Mann's remarks already mentioned. 
 
 Alfieri is thus seen to be on the most intimate terms of 
 affection with the bewildered and ill-treated woman, who 
 must evidently have been struggling at this time between 
 her new-born passion for this brilliant and ardent lover 
 and her own scruples with regard to breaking her marriage 
 vows, or her more mundane dread of the future fate of a 
 run-away wife, that creature which the Italian has always 
 regarded with special abhorrence down to the present 
 day, no matter how great may have been her provocation 
 to desert a husband's roof. There is no hint, certainly, in 
 the sonnets themselves of common-place gallantry be- 
 tween the poet and the Countess of Albany, for, as we said 
 before, these were especially selected and polished at a 
 much later date to tend to the glorification of his latter- 
 day Laura ; but in one of the lyrics we obtain a glimpse, 
 and a very lucid one too, of the amorous interchanges 
 that must have taken place between the lovers, when 
 circumstances proved favourable ; as for example when 
 the royal Cerberus of the Palazzo Stuart was enjoying a 
 nap in the presence of his wife and of the handsome 
 poet, who was wont occasionally to read aloud passages 
 from his new tragedy of Maria Stuarda or to discuss 
 politics and philosophy. 
 
 The poet apostrophises the God of Sleep, blaming him 
 for not closing more often the all-too-wakeful eyes of 
 the elderly husband. 
 
 " How have I offended thee, O Sleep, placid brother of 
 Death, that thou dost no more return to shut the eye- 
 lids of the worthy spouse ? His old blinking orbs were 
 formerly thy resting-place, yet nowadays I rarely be- 
 hold thee alight upon them. 
 
 5° 
 
A Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 " O joy! It would seem as if the deity had hearkened 
 to my prayer. There lolls the feeble old head, which 
 tries vainly to keep steady. On the breast sinks the 
 flabby chin ; lo, it falls, and falls yet lower. Thus on 
 the arm of Sleep reposeth hoary Age. 
 
 " Already from those fair shining eyes, dark, amorous 
 and ardent, can I drink in slow draughts of the luscious 
 poison. And in the silence I already feel that poison 
 course through every vein, nor dare I open my lips, so 
 full is my soul. 
 
 " But alas, what do I see ? Is he awake, before ever 
 he was sound asleep ? To earth I must fix my eyes, 
 burning with the love-light. Why dost thou mock my 
 prayers, O Sleep, last of the gods to obey ? Malign and 
 envious, thou art the foe of lovers, and carest no more 
 for their sorrows than for their delights." * 
 
 From this poem it becomes quite clear that the passion 
 of the man at this date was warmly reciprocated by the 
 lady. It is, indeed, a horrible picture that this vile poem 
 affords us of the Chevalier, once the hero and darling of 
 Scotland, sunk thus in a drunken slumber and waking 
 therefrom perhaps to detect his young wife exchanging 
 glances of no mistaken meaning with one of his own guests. 
 We can easily conjure up such a scene — the old, old 
 situation of the jealous elderly husband, the pretty young 
 wife and the eager unscrupulous lover that forms the staple 
 matter for so many a farce, which ought to move to pity 
 and disgust rather than to uproarious mirth. The heir 
 of a race of kings, famed in song and story, in his dismal 
 palace of exile, fallen in age, reputation and strength, 
 has become the prey of an Italian wife-hunter. It is a 
 terrible travesty of the familiar fable of the lion grown 
 old and helpless. 
 
 How long a time elapsed before the Countess yielded 
 herself a ready confederate in this sort of low conven- 
 tional intrigue we have no means of ascertaining ; but it is 
 evident that she and Alfieri were on the intimate if secret 
 * Poesie Amorose {Anacreontic a) , pp. 249-254. 
 
 51 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 footing of avowed lovers some time before the final 
 catastrophe of December, 1780. Originally, so we firmly 
 believe, Alfieri had only found a friendly hostess and a 
 sympathetic listener in Palazzo Stuart. But the lady's 
 interest in his literary aspirations quickly added fuel to 
 his fire, so that it could not have been long before this 
 " Tower of Virtue," as Alfieri himself styles her, yielded 
 before an attack that was at once brutal, calculated and 
 subtle in its methods. A mutual admiration of Mon- 
 taigne (one of whose essays the Countess was wont to peruse 
 regularly each morning, as she herself once told Bon- 
 stetten in a letter) * formed perhaps the first bond of 
 intellectual sympathy between the pair. The intention 
 to write a tragedy on the subject of the unhappy Mary 
 Stuart, Queen of Scots, the lineal ancestress of her hus- 
 band, gave further opportunities for the poet to press 
 his suit under cover of an union of twin intellects. This 
 play was doubtless often read aloud in parts to the 
 Count and Countess of Albany ; and possibly when the 
 descendant of the Scottish Queen had fallen asleep as the 
 result of weariness or of the wine-cup, there arose one of 
 those rare but long-desired opportunities for the display 
 of that language of the eyes, which is so graphically and 
 coarsely described in the lyric lately quoted. The 
 writing of the drama of Maria Stuarda, in short, seems 
 an inevitable episode closely bound up with the amorous 
 onslaught of Alfieri and the all-too-easy capitulation of 
 the Countess. Her lack of deep religious convictions, 
 whereof her later letters afford abundant proof, told 
 strongly in the lover's favour ; the cruel humiliating con- 
 duct of an old and repellent husband was constantly 
 present in her mind to assist his unscrupulous arguments ; 
 whilst the intellectual sympathy between the pair was 
 growing more imperiously insistent every day. For the 
 actual plot of the tragedy of Mary Stuart was, so Alfieri 
 himself tells us in the dedication of that drama, conceived 
 in obedience to the wishes of his " Donna Amata " during 
 * Lettm et Ecriu divers, p. 7. 
 
 5 2 
 
A Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 these early days of their romantic intrigue in the Floren- 
 tine palace. 
 
 " As every work of mine is yours, you must not be left 
 for a moment in doubt that I wish to anticipate the 
 slightest desire of yours. I have often heard that unhappy 
 woman, Mary Stuart, pitied by you ; it has given me 
 pleasure to exculpate her in this tragedy (which I 
 dedicate expressly to you), as much as possible from the 
 murder of her husband generally laid to her charge. I 
 confess I would not have entered on such a task of my 
 own spontaneous will, partly because I take greater delight 
 in antique themes, as richer in virtues or grander in 
 crimes, and partly because I foresaw that I could not deal 
 with the subject without inclining to adulation, or in 
 some manner offending the memory of a race to which, 
 during a long period of unhappiness, you remained at- 
 tached by sacred ties. However, you shall hear me speak 
 with my usual freedom, which, next to yourself, I deem 
 the dearest thing in the world ; and whilst I develop the 
 truth, I will show you that for your own sake, and not 
 because I was near you, I consecrated to you the better 
 portion of my life, the whole of the genius that was in me, 
 and more obsequious affection than was ever found in 
 any other heart." * 
 
 j This dedication obviously belongs to a later date than 
 
 | the major portion of the play itself, which was composed 
 during the course of this surreptitious love-making in 
 
 j Florence ; whilst the fierce tirade against Charles Stuart 
 (already quoted as a fore-word to this chapter) was added 
 by the poet in after years, probable during the time of his 
 separation from the Countess in 1783. 
 
 Yet another proof of the lively interchange, presumably 
 
 i unknown to the husband, of literary ideas between the 
 pair of lovers, is to be found in a curious little paper pre- 
 served in the Musee Fabre at Montpellier, wherein so 
 many relics of the poet and the Countess of Albany 
 have found a final resting-place. This paper, one of 
 * The Tragedies of Vittorio Alfieri, translated by E. A. Bowring. 
 
 53 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 their very few communications that have survived the 
 hand of the deliberate destroyer, consists of a small sketch 
 by the Countess of the heads of the four great Italian 
 bards — Dante, Petrarch, Ariosto and Tasso — whose works 
 Alfieri was ever perusing and striving to rival in his 
 tragedies. Above the poets of Italy is suspended a 
 wreath of laurels with the single Latin word Digniori 
 (" To one yet more worthy of the laurels than they "), 
 which was doubtless the method of the Countess's personal 
 encouragement to one whose talents were as yet unknown 
 to his countrymen. We have already noticed how Alfieri 
 speaks of his new-found mistress as an incentive and 
 support to his literary ambition ; and in this bit of paper 
 we are shown proof positive of the lady's keen interest 
 that led to this outburst of praise and flattery. On the 
 treasured paper itself is a note in the poet's handwriting : 
 " This I received as a gift from my lady in the year 1778 
 at Florence ; " whilst at the back of the sketch is indited 
 the sonnet which contains the lines in allusion to the four 
 bards, his special masters and models : 
 
 Chi son costoro ? 
 
 Quattro gran vati ed i maggiori son questi* 
 
 Seeing then, from the evidence of Alfieri's own muse 
 already given, that a complete collusion, both of the heart 
 and head, existed between the poet and the Countess of 
 Albany so early as the year 1778 — that is to say, barely a 
 twelvemonth after he had made his first bow in the 
 chambers'of the Stuart palace — it is surprising to find the 
 expected revolt or escape of the lady postponed so late, 
 for two long years of indecision were fated to elapse with 
 the household of the Chevalier plunged in so uncom- 
 fortable and precarious a state. No doubt the eager 
 lover constantly urged flight to be followed by a freer 
 union with himself and his ideals ; and such a suggestion 
 
 * Mazzatinti, Le Carte dlfieriane di Montpellier. (Giornale Storico delle 
 Letteratura Italiana, vol. iii., p. 262.) 
 
 54 
 
e 
 i 
 
 i 
 s 
 s 
 
COUNT VITTORIO ALFIERI 
 From the portrait by F. X. Fabre 
 
 Alinari 
 
A "Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 must have brought the usual temptations to the bewil- 
 dered and undecided lady. But on the other hand, 
 miserable as was certainly her daily life in her husband's 
 thraldom, yet that very life had its compensations. Al- 
 though her lord's tipsy habits and occasional barbarity 
 rendered her truly wretched, yet by the inexorable un- 
 written law of Italian social life, she owned the inestimable 
 boon of daily receiving and hearing her adorer, whose 
 presence in his house, either from ignorance of his aims 
 or from fear of Florentine ridicule, the Chevalier seems 
 never to have resented openly. Alfieri was to the last a 
 constant guest at the prince's table, and thus found 
 occasional chances for the exchange of vows, plans and 
 confidences with his charmer. Again, the Chevalier's 
 appalling state of ill-health was a perpetual source of hope 
 to the Countess. Any day might bring an apoplectic 
 stroke or some fatal malady ; and then the lovely and 
 much-pitied woman would in one brief moment find her- 
 self left sole mistress of her future fate and the owner of 
 no mean fortune. In one of her letters to Gori a few 
 years later she alludes to her husband as " the man of iron, 
 who lives on and on, in order that we may all die " ; and 
 no doubt the secret hope of a sudden ending both to her 
 spouse and to her own state of oppression and uncertainty 
 dominated not a little her perplexed mind, which was 
 being constantly fed, though never satisfied, with the daily 
 sight and conversation of her lover. And perhaps — who 
 knows ? — she was even afraid at this period of risking 
 her rank and her wealth, of setting the whole social world 
 at defiance in order to please a man whom some of her 
 friends may have pointed out as a gay deceiver ; for, as 
 we have shown, Alfieri's reputation was far from spotless, 
 and his present protestations of undying devotion might 
 some day be falsified. Again, though far from being a 
 good Catholic, the Countess was not lax in the attendance 
 to her religious duties, so that perhaps some scintilla of 
 the moral teaching that had been impressed on her young 
 mind in the cloisters of Mons may have caused her 
 
 55 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 uneasiness at the suggestion of deserting a husband to whom 
 she had been bound by the most solemn ties of the Church. 
 These are at least some reasons that go to explain that 
 long-drawn out fever of delay and indecision between 
 the time of Alfieri's disclosure of his love to willing ears 
 and the Countess's final step of quitting her husband's 
 roof for ever. So far as the Chevalier is concerned, we 
 are left wholly in the dark. It seems incredible that the 
 suspicious irritable old man should not have had an ink- 
 ling of the game that was being played around him ; yet 
 if he had really caught Alfieri in the act of making love 
 to the wife whom he now hated as well as guarded, he 
 would surely have found some means or other to rid his 
 house of so dangerous and objectionable a visitor. But 
 the poet tells us explicitly in the Vita that he himself was 
 unsuspected ; and if this was truly the case, then the 
 wife-stealer must have been an adept at simulating a false 
 friendship with the host he was engaged in injuring. We 
 are therefore compelled to believe that for three years 
 Alfieri was enjoying the hospitality of a home that he was 
 setting himself to wreck in a most selfish, deceitful and 
 altogether detestable method, a fact which must carry a 
 sense of contempt and indignation against this man who 
 had set himself up to teach his countrymen the means of 
 moral and political redemption, and yet was the actual 
 and unabashed author of so cold-blooded an act of 
 treachery. One other person must have played a leading 
 part in this disreputable affair. This was Madame de 
 Maltzam, the confidant of the Countess, and it is per- 
 haps due to her astute counsels that the final flight of her 
 mistress was so long delayed. But in what manner, or 
 to what extent she guided the affair, it is only possible 
 to guess, for her name is never once mentioned by con- 
 temporary informants in connection with it. 
 
 It becomes useless, therefore, to try to apportion the true 
 amount of guilt in the case of the Countess of Albany, 
 concerning whose behaviour there is at this time no evi- 
 dence, favourable or unfavourable, forthcoming. That 
 
 56 
 
A Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 she was shockingly ill-used by her husband was decidedly 
 the universal opinion in Florence, and Sir Horace Mann 
 in commenting later on her escape gives her credit for 
 having been driven to this step, not out of a desire to 
 elope with Alfieri but in order to avoid physical injury at 
 the hands of the tipsy and half-mad Chevalier. " During 
 her nine years' Martyrdom," he writes, " she has applied 
 to cultivating her mind by studying Mathematics and 
 reading History and Poetry, at a time when one may well 
 suppose that she had a great struggle with her constitu- 
 tion to resist the temptation of her Master, the renowned 
 Count Alfieri, without the least blemish to her character." * 
 This act of approval, however, the British envoy was 
 moved afterwards to modify on hearing something of the 
 Chevalier's side of the story ; but Mann's judgment at 
 this crisis is of some value in proving to us the general 
 consensus of belief in the Chevalier's personal violence 
 and in the lady's unsullied honour, however strong had 
 been her temptation. 
 
 The final event, which we believe Alfieri himself desired 
 rather to hasten than to avoid, took place towards the 
 close of 1780. To the last the pair of lovers had managed 
 to enjoy some small share of each other's society, whilst 
 the seal of approval had been set on the attachment not 
 only by the indulgent Gori but also by the gentle Abbe 
 di Caruso, who had spent the whole of the year 1779 in 
 the poet's company in Florence. But Alfieri, baulked 
 of his chances by the circumstance that Charles was 
 invariably present at each meeting, and also growing 
 exasperated at the sight of the domestic tyranny to which 
 his lady was being continually subjected, was daily 
 becoming more and more impatient. What led to the 
 last scene of violence is commonly said to have been the 
 convivial debauch on St. Andrew's Day, November 30, 
 when the Chevalier, maddened by the fumes of wine and 
 strong waters to a point beyond his habitual condition of 
 
 * Mann and Manners, vol. ii. pp. 376-377. Sir H. Mann also adds his 
 opinion that the lady deserves a handsome English pension on this account ! 
 
 57 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 drunkenness, suddenly attacked his wife in the privacy 
 of her bed-chamber, accusing her of infidelity ; a charge 
 which she denied with considerable warmth, so as to 
 anger her tipsy spouse yet further. A disgraceful assault of 
 the intoxicated man upon the young and lovely woman 
 followed ; the Countess was not a little injured and was 
 certainly alarmed for her life, and Sir Horace Mann even 
 hints at conduct too nauseous to relate. The piercing 
 cries of the terrified lady soon brought the servants to 
 her rescue, and Louise was dragged from the clutches of 
 her infuriated husband. 
 
 It would seem that, bad as Charles' behaviour had long 
 been, this particular escapade on St. Andrew's night was 
 far in excess of any former acts of cruelty ; and it was now 
 that the Countess, in genuine alarm for her safety, at last 
 applied to Alfieri, who was only too willing, to find some 
 means of escape from a house that was not merely in- 
 tolerable but actually dangerous. Leaving abruptly the 
 course of deep study wherewith he was solacing himself 
 for the thought of the indignities endured by his beloved 
 lady, the poet now spent his time in applying to the 
 officials of the Tuscan court, who, it seems, were more 
 than ready to lend themselves to some scheme of rescue. 
 The Pretender was considered a political nuisance in 
 Tuscany, a country which was deeply indebted to Britain 
 and anxious to keep in British good graces ; indeed, the 
 very presence of the Stuart Prince and his court in 
 Florence was most unwelcome to the Grand-Duke. 
 Both for reasons of common pity as well as of public 
 policy, Alfieri's petition therefore was favourably re- 
 ceived in exalted quarters, so that the only question 
 to be considered now was, how best to effect the 
 act of rescue, which owing to the Chevalier's con- 
 stant and jealous supervision of his wife presented some 
 difficulty. 
 
 The story of the Countess of Albany's escape is well 
 known and has been described many times already in 
 works dealing with the later Stuarts, so that it will be 
 
 58 
 
A Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 recounted here as briefly as possible. A few days after 
 the affair of St. Andrew's night, the plot had been hatched 
 and all precautions taken for its successful fulfilment. A 
 certain Madame Orlandini, an Irish lady, and her cava- 
 liere servente^ Mr. Gehegan, were admitted to the secret, 
 which must also have been shared by Madame de Malt- 
 zam, albeit that mysterious lady's name never once 
 appears openly in connection with the incident. At 
 dinner on a certain day, Madame Orlandini, who had pre- 
 viously obtained in private the consent of the Grand- 
 Duchess of Tuscany, suggested that after the meal the 
 whole party in the course of their usual afternoon drive 
 should call at the neighbouring convent of the White 
 Nuns in the Via del Mandorlo in order to inspect some 
 pieces of embroidery. In so innocent a proposal even the 
 abnormally suspicious Prince failed to detect any latent 
 plot ; and accordingly a little later the carriage contain- 
 ing the company drove to the entrance of the convent, 
 where the Countess duly alighted, accompanied by 
 Madame Orlandini and escorted by Gehegan. The 
 portress of the convent admitted the two ladies ; the doors 
 closed upon them, and this was the last sight on earth 
 the Chevalier ever obtained of the pretty and talented 
 wife, whom he had alienated by his cruelty but who 
 might have grown into a devoted and useful support in 
 his old age, had he but treated her with the tact and 
 kindness that such a marriage of disproportionate ages 
 especially demands. 
 
 After a long interval of waiting, the impatient 
 Chevalier, hobbling with feeble swaying steps up to the 
 doorway, knocked with angry strokes at the door itself, 
 which Gehegan had declared would not open to his request. 
 A panel of the close-barred portal was slid aside for a 
 moment, whilst a voice from within briefly informed 
 the amazed and indignant husband that the wife he sought 
 had left him to seek the protection of the Grand-Duchess, 
 which had been graciously afforded her. The panel was 
 then shot back with force, and the Chevalier was left on 
 
 59 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 the doorstep to curse uselessly to his heart's content or 
 to bear his unexpected loss with dignity, as he might 
 choose. In a frame of mind that can be more easily 
 imagined than described, the lonely man returned to his 
 deserted palace, where he took a mean revenge a few hours 
 later in refusing to supply his runaway spouse with any of 
 her necessary linen or apparel, which a special messenger 
 had come to demand ; and it was only some days later, 
 at the express order of his almoner, the Pope, that the 
 discomfited Prince acceded to the distasteful request. 
 Here then in the dismal old palace we leave Charles- 
 Edward Stuart on the verge of his sixtieth birthday, 
 deprived of his wife, wounded in his honour and his 
 personal pride, a prey to the demon of " the nasty bottle," 
 despised by his very servants and feeling acutely his 
 ignoble position as the merest of political ciphers in the 
 eyes of the Pope and the sovereign of Tuscany. As 
 for his wife, she never forgave him. Almost to the last 
 hour of her life, her hatred was almost indecently keen and 
 bitter against her husband,* whose defects and outrages 
 seemed in the process of time to take on a larger and more 
 lurid aspect. Yet the idea of regaining her by force 
 of the law rather than by entreaty was for some time 
 prominent in the bereft Prince's wandering brain, 
 so that at first he left no effort untried to accomplish his 
 object. But neither the Pope nor the Grand-Duke 
 would pay the smallest attention to his demands, and 
 indeed the only person anxious to effect a reconciliation 
 between the pair seems to have been the worldly old 
 Princess of Stolberg, who made one feeble attempt to 
 persuade her daughter to return to her husband. Fail- 
 ing to gain sympathy from the Pope or the Grand-Duke 
 Leopold, the Prince now fell back on the pious and 
 learned Monsignore Antonio Martini (the eminent 
 translator of the Bible into the Italian tongue), who was 
 greatly embarrassed by the enraged husband's persistent 
 appeals. A letter from the unwilling prelate to the 
 * Except in her highly insincere letters to the Cardinal of York. 
 
 60 
 
A Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 Cardinal of York on this subject is therefore of some 
 importance, seeing that Alfieri and the Countess con- 
 sidered Martini's action as having been largely responsible 
 for their separation two years later in Rome. That the 
 Archbishop was most anxious to avoid any participation 
 in the matrimonial affairs of the Count and Countess of 
 Albany is quite obvious both from the language and the 
 tone of the following letter, which is dated November 2, 
 1 78 1, within a year of the actual occurrence. 
 
 " Your Royal Highness and Eminence, — Had I not 
 full knowledge of the extreme piety and goodness of 
 Your Eminence, I should not presume to trouble you 
 with this letter, dealing with a painfully delicate matter, 
 which owing to my official position places me in a grave 
 dilemma. 
 
 "The Signor Comte d' Albany has implored me several 
 times to come to see him at his palace, and has even him- 
 self struggled to reach my own house more than once in 
 order to consult with me, so that at last I felt bound, out 
 of mere civility, to pay him my respects in person. The 
 motive of his anxiety to meet me was explained by himself 
 the very moment I entered his cabinet, and this motive 
 was his fixed desire to start an action here for the res- 
 toration, as he terms it, of his lady consort. I did and 
 said all I could to calm his fury, but to no purpose. 
 Finally I begged him to wait awhile, so as to give me 
 time to reflect well on so difficult and delicate a case. 
 Within the last few days, however, he has been pressing 
 me for an answer so impatiently, that I therefore appeal 
 to Your Eminence to deign to suggest to me what I 
 ought to do under the circumstances, wherein a husband 
 of such rank claims the right to recall a wife who has 
 left him (so he alleges) without just cause. The kindness 
 I received of Your Eminence some months ago in Rome, 
 and your own virtues and experience, must make you 
 excuse this step on my part, to which necessity alone 
 compels me. I do assure you I shall do neither more nor 
 
 61 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 less in the matter than what you yourself suggest to 
 me. . . * 
 
 Meanwhile the romantic story, doubtless much dis- 
 torted and exaggerated, of the lady's flight and of her 
 husband's impotent wrath became the sole topic of con- 
 versation in the scandal-loving society of Florence. Her 
 case was at least considered as exceptional, so that sympathy 
 with the ill-treated wife and an universal belief in her 
 innocence were everywhere expressed, whilst the aban- 
 doned spouse was, of course, the subject of combined 
 scorn and amusement. — "The mould for any more casts of 
 Royal Stuarts has been broken," writes the delighted and 
 much relieved Sir Horace Mann to his English crony, 
 " or what is equivalent to it, is now shut up in a convent 
 of Nuns under the double lock and key of the Pope and 
 the Cardinal of York, out of the reach of any Dabbler who 
 might f oister in any spurious copy " t — a remark that clearly 
 exhibits the real cause of the British envoy's late anxiety 
 and present sense of relief at the turn affairs had taken. 
 By degrees the details of the incident spread over Europe, 
 and finally reached British shores, where, however, the 
 humiliation of the Stuart Prince aroused little compas- 
 sion or, indeed, any interest whatsoever ; it was scarcely 
 alluded to in the journals and in the art of caricature the 
 news only produced a feeble and scurrilous print of the 
 Chevalier and his runaway wife in company with a mis- 
 chievous Cupid holding a burnt-out torch. 
 
 Whilst the outside world of Florence was thus engaged 
 in discussing her private affairs, the Countess of Albany 
 herself remained quietly in the shelter of her chosen con- 
 vent, utterly exhausted with her late feverish adventures 
 and awaiting an answer to an imploring letter she had 
 promptly despatched to her brother-in-law, Henry Stuart, 
 Cardinal-Duke of York. Her position in her own eyes 
 was scarcely an enviable one. She had, indeed, taken a 
 leap in the dark. If she were at last released from an 
 
 * Reumont, Gli Ultimi Stuardi, pp. 70, 71. 
 t Mann and Manners, vol. ii., p. 376. 
 
 62 
 
A Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 odious servitude to a tipsy master, on the other hand 
 she was likely henceforth to be totally deprived of the 
 society of the one person on earth, whose presence had 
 made her willing to endure all the tyranny she had 
 suffered for the past three years. It is reasonable there- 
 fore, to presume, that but for her genuine fears for her 
 life at the hands of her husband, she would have rested 
 content to bow to her domestic afflictions, provided only 
 she were assured of the daily visits of her lover, and would 
 have awaited with all the patience available the release that 
 she hoped in the course of nature was not so far distant. 
 By this time bound heart and soul to Alfieri, and caring 
 for nought else on earth, the quiet convent must have 
 seemed to the unhappy and distracted woman merely an 
 exchange of one prison for another. Her future position, 
 which lay entirely in the hands of her worthy but prudish 
 brother-in-law, troubled her greatly. Would she ever, 
 she wondered, be able to evade the irksome restraint of 
 the cloister, so as to meet with her lover ; or had the 
 Cardinal the firm intention of shutting her up from the 
 outside world so long as " the man of iron " lingered on ? 
 Such were doubtless her thoughts at the time she received 
 the expected answer from Henry Stuart, whose kind but 
 vague letter invited his sister-in-law to return to Rome 
 under his powerful protection. 
 
 " Frascati, December 15, 1780. 
 " My very dear Sister, — I cannot express to you the 
 sorrow I have felt on reading your letter of the 9th of this 
 month. Long ago I foresaw what has at last happened, 
 and your escape being made with the approval of the 
 Tuscan Court has fully justified your conduct. You 
 may rely, my very dear Sister, on my own kindly senti- 
 ments towards you, for up to the present moment I have 
 always sympathised with your position ; though, on the 
 other hand, I beg you to recall the fact that I had no 
 share whatsoever in bringing about your indissoluble 
 union with my Brother, beyond giving my formal consent 
 
 63 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 to a marriage whereof I had received no previous intima- 
 tion. As to its consequences, no one more than yourself 
 can understand the impossibility of my assisting you in 
 the smallest degree during your subsequent troubles and 
 trials. Under the circumstances, nothing can be wiser or 
 more convenient than for you to come to Rome and live 
 in a convent, so I have not lost a moment in going into 
 Rome expressly to serve you by arranging this matter with 
 our very Holy Father, whose kindness towards yourself 
 and me I am unable to relate adequately. I have thought 
 of all things essential to your case, and I am glad to say 
 the Holy Father has approved of all my suggestions. You 
 will reside in the convent where the Queen, my mother, 
 remained some time, and for which the King, my father, 
 had a special veneration. It is the least restricted con- 
 vent in Rome. French is spoken there, and some of its 
 inmates are persons of rank. . . . 
 
 " It is enough to say that you may rely on being in good 
 hands, and that I shall never fail openly to admit my pro- 
 tection of you as a duty owing to you in your present 
 situation, since I am perfectly convinced you will be ready 
 to accept the counsel and advice I may occasionally give, 
 with no other object in view than that of your own good 
 before God and man. The Nuncio [in Florence] has 
 been well instructed, so that your departure may be con- 
 ducted safely and agreeably, and you must therefore 
 follow his instructions. I fancy you will be accompanied 
 by Madame de Maltzam,* and by two maids at most. 
 
 " Finally, my very dear Sister, remain calm and allow 
 yourself to be guided by those who are attached to you, 
 and above all do not tell a soul that you never intend to 
 return to your husband. Do not fear I should ever urge 
 such a step, unless a miracle were to take place. But in all 
 probability God has permitted the past in order to induce 
 you to lead a holy life, so that all the world may thereby 
 admit the purity of your aims and the reasonableness of 
 
 * Called here Madame de Marzan : one of the very rare allusions to this 
 lady in contemporary letters. 
 
 6 4 
 
A Florentine Love Tragedy 
 
 your conduct ; so also we may hope by the same means He 
 intended to convert my Brother. . . . 
 
 "Your very affectionate Brother, 
 
 "Henry Cardinal." * 
 
 A careful study of this verbose and rambling but truly 
 sympathetic letter is especially important, if the reader 
 wishes to understand the exact terms on which the upright 
 Cardinal invited his sister-in-law to Rome, and to estimate 
 how far those terms were compatible with the existence 
 she hoped or intended to lead under his protection. From 
 the tone of the letter it is easy to see that the Cardinal- 
 Duke, with his utter ignorance of human weakness, was 
 wholly unsuspecting of any possible complication, save 
 that of incompatibility of temper, in this late domestic 
 upheaval in his brother's house. Yet at this moment he 
 was apparently no less obtuse than the rest of the wise 
 world, for the name of Alfieri was being mentioned on all 
 sides merely in the light of a chivalrous and disinterested 
 friend, who out of sheer compassion had helped to con- 
 nive at the lady's flight. That he was really guiltless so 
 far, he himself states in a rather vague passage of the 
 Vita where, after protesting his own blameless conduct in 
 his attitude towards the Countess, he proceeds to say : 
 " It is sufficient to state that I rescued my Lady from the 
 tyranny of an exacting and ever-tipsy consort, without 
 however compromising her honour in the least degree, 
 and without causing any scandal to the world at large. In 
 any case all who have known or have seen the peculiar 
 circumstances of her very harsh imprisonment, which was 
 killing her by inches, will realise that this was no easy 
 matter to conduct and bring to a happy conclusion." t 
 
 Let us then at this precise point affirm our perfect 
 belief in the innocence of the Countess of Albany, with- 
 out caring to ascertain whether such innocence were partly 
 
 * St. Rene Taillandier, La Comtesse d? Albany — Revue des Deux Monde s 
 1861. 
 
 t Vita, vol. ii. p. 83. 
 
 E 65 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 the result of the perpetual espionage of the husband, who 
 rarely allowed his young wife out of his sight, even for a 
 moment ; for, as Alfieri relates, " he was always present 
 with her, or at best in the adjoining room." She had 
 therefore a perfect right to ask her brother-in-law for 
 the protection which he readily granted on her request, 
 as we have seen. She had then the approval of the Car- 
 dinal, the Pope and the Grand-Ducal court of Tuscany 
 for her revolt ; whilst her position was regarded for once by 
 Italian society with universal sympathy rather than with 
 condemnation, so convinced was everybody of the horrors 
 she had been forced for years to endure in her husband's 
 house. Save for the concealed secret passion for her 
 deliverer that was consuming her, the Countess might 
 well have been envied as a fortunate woman to have 
 escaped on such easy terms from her late slavery, and to 
 have this prospect of an honourable retirement before 
 her in Rome. Thither the Pope, Pius VI., himself in- 
 vited her in a letter full of kindly interest,* and ere the 
 month of December had drawn to a close, a travelling 
 coach with an escort of well-armed servants set out from 
 Florence bearing the Countess towards Rome. A report 
 of the time tells us that Alfieri himself in disguise and 
 with pistol in hand accompanied her carriage ; but no 
 such incident is mentioned in the Vita, so presumably the 
 picturesque statement has no foundation in fact. Thus, 
 despite the fierce but unavailing appeals of the lonely 
 husband, the Countess of Albany was enabled under 
 official approval to quit the scene of her late trials and to 
 make the journey to her new abode in safety. 
 
 * Reumont, Appendix, pp. 313, 314. 
 
 66 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE SECOND VISIT TO ROME 
 
 " Life, what a hard thing it is ! For myself it has been one 
 long bout of suffering for the last eleven years, all except the two 
 years I spent with the Friend in Rome, and even then I was 
 living in the midst of alarms." — Letter of the Countess of Albany 
 to Francesco Gori, written in the autumn of 1783. 
 
 Arrived safe in Rome at the Ursuline convent in the 
 Via Vittoria, where the suite of rooms once occupied 
 by the ascetic Queen Clementina Stuart had been hastily 
 prepared for her reception, the Countess of Albany was 
 welcomed in the most affectionate manner by the 
 Cardinal-Duke of York, who found his sister-in-law, 
 to his deep distress, in a fearful state of nervous collapse 
 after her late trials and experiences in Florence. Louise 
 was indeed glad of the change with its sense of relief 
 that no more could her " nautious tyrant," as Mann 
 styles the Chevalier, assault or torment her ; and for 
 the moment she was perhaps ready to remain quietly 
 in this peaceful retreat, where she was regarded with 
 special interest and attention by the inmates 
 
 Meanwhile Alfieri, too anxious and too perturbed to 
 linger in Florence after the flight of her whose absence 
 made the beautiful city appear odious and gloomy to 
 his lover's eye, hastened southward on the flimsy pretext 
 of a necessary visit to Naples, though it seems needless 
 to state that he halted at Rome on his way thither, so 
 early as the second month in the New Year, 1781. From 
 having loathed and abused, in one of his early sonnets,* 
 Rome and the Papal dominions, the susceptible poet 
 * O vuota, insalubre regime, 
 
 67 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 now confesses that he found the Eternal City the most 
 tempting spot in the whole world. He duly called upon 
 the Papal officials, who regarded him as the legitimate 
 and honourable cavaliere servente of the distressed lady 
 now immured in a nunnery ; whilst with the permission 
 of the Cardinal-Duke he was allowed to hold a short 
 interview with her under the usual conditions in the 
 guest-room of the Ursuline convent. 
 
 " I came," so he relates this experience in the pages 
 of the Vita, " 1 saw her (but, O God ! my heart seems 
 to break now at the mere recollection of it), I saw her 
 behind a grating, less tortured than in Florence, but 
 for a certain reason no less unhappy. For we were 
 separated, and who could tell how long that separation 
 might endure ? And yet I solaced myself amid my 
 tears that here she could at least gradually recover her 
 health, could breathe a freer air, enjoy quiet sleep, and 
 no more be trembling for fear of that dire ever-present 
 shadow of her tipsy husband." * 
 
 Alfieri remained only a few days in Rome, but during 
 his short sojourn he was busily employed in interviewing 
 various officials with the determined but artfully veiled 
 intention of obtaining additional freedom for the well- 
 guarded Countess. The eager lover's efforts in quest 
 of this object knew no bounds. Every argument, 
 every species of flattery, and we may add, every sort 
 of untruth were adduced by the Count to make the 
 Roman authorities relent in their severe regulations 
 with regard to the runaway wife of the Chevalier. 
 Alfieri, the republican aristocrat, who had hitherto 
 railed at priests and kings, and at priestcraft and king- 
 craft, now showed himself an adept courtier, and was 
 evidently guilty of an amount of artifice and dissimula- 
 tion of which he felt bitterly ashamed in his heart of 
 hearts. 
 
 " Love softened my austere nature and drove me to 
 devise the most cunning schemes, to which otherwise 
 * Vita, vol. ii. p. 86. 
 
 68 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 I should never have stooped for the whole world. . . . 
 I abased myself to pay visits (of ceremony), even to make 
 my court to the Cardinal, her brother-in-law, on whose 
 decision depended all hope of her liberty, and whom 
 we both constantly kept flattering. I shall speak no 
 more at length concerning these two brothers (Charles- 
 Edward and Henry Stuart), since all the world at that 
 date knew them well ; and although Time will ere long 
 have buried them in oblivion, it is not my business to 
 draw them forth from obscurity. I can say no good 
 word for them, and at the same time do not wish to say 
 anything ill. However, my conduct in Rome at this 
 crisis affords the most perfect testimony to my boundless 
 devotion for my Friend, in that I should have thus 
 lowered my proud nature before such people."* 
 
 This hypocritical apology for his illicit endeavours 
 to deceive the Cardinal of York and the clerical authori- 
 ties, as well as the insolent but vague abuse levelled at 
 the kindly if obtuse prince of the Church he was bent on 
 hoodwinking, must cause us to become rather sceptical as 
 to the constantly advanced claims of Vittorio Alfieri to be 
 regarded as a noble character. As his own biographer, 
 he is not likely to exhibit his conduct in a worse light 
 than its actuality, yet it would be hard to find a 
 more unfair account of a particularly low trick played 
 upon a man of real virtue and simple goodness such as 
 the Cardinal of York. How far the Countess of Albany 
 was guilty of abetting her lover already at this early 
 stage, in setting out deliberately to deceive her excellent 
 brother-in-law with his innate horror of a love-intrigue, 
 it is difficult to say. Alfieri certainly describes this 
 pair of secret lovers as busily engaged in the mean game 
 of chicanery and flattery, so that in that case she cannot 
 be acquitted of a share in the scheme, though in a less 
 degree than the Count who certainly acted as her 
 instigator. 
 
 Most reluctantly leaving the Countess, 64 as delicacy 
 
 * Ibidem, p. 87. 
 
 69 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 compelled him," and abandoning his already partially 
 successful occupation of toadying and winning over the 
 Papal officials, the poet proceeded to Naples, whilst the 
 Countess remained in her convent, still agitated over 
 her new cause of anxiety, and in consequence but slowly 
 recovering her broken-down health. The following 
 letter, dated April 23, 1781, is one of the first letters 
 in the correspondence that opens from this time onward 
 between the Countess and the unsuspecting Cardinal, 
 who was undoubtedly attributing the lady's continual 
 state of nervous depression solely to her recent ill-usage 
 at the hands of the drunken Charles-Edward, and was 
 very far removed indeed from having the faintest inkling 
 that the sympathetic Count Alfieri, who had taken so 
 much disinterested trouble in the matter, could be 
 aught else than a loyal and honourable friend of his own 
 sister-in-law. 
 
 " To my very dear Brother the Cardinal Duke of York 
 at Frascati 
 
 "April 23, 1 78 1. 
 
 " ... If you could see me now these days, my dear 
 Brother, you would think me bad tempered, but I am 
 only out of spirits and have such headaches that I can 
 hardly speak. So I hope you will rest thoroughly assured 
 that I am very happy ; indeed it would be impossible 
 for me to feel otherwise with such a brother as yourself. 
 So never believe that I am cross, I beg you. Farewell, 
 my dear Brother, keep me in your good graces, and be 
 always persuaded of my tender affection. 
 
 " Your affectionate Sister, 
 
 " Louise." * 
 
 During the interval of Alfieri's absence at Naples, 
 where the restless poet was impatiently awaiting a suitable 
 moment to return to Rome, the petition of the Countess 
 to be allowed to leave her present place of honourable 
 * British Museum. Add MSS. 34, 634, f2$. 
 
 70 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 but irksome confinement was being discussed by the 
 Cardinal of York and his friends. Fortunately for the 
 lady, the reigning Pope, Pius VI. (Gian-Angelo Braschi, 
 of Cesena), was easy-going, not to say indulgent to human 
 weakness ; and consequently an interview between the 
 good-natured luxurious pontiff and the pretty winning 
 wife of the Stuart Prince with her graceful manners, 
 her opportune tears, and her air of injured innocence, 
 created a most favourable impression. This private 
 colloquy, which according to Sir Horace Mann took 
 place in the sacristy of a church, was followed by the 
 Pontiff's plea to the anxious Cardinal not to press too 
 hard the incarceration of so lively and innocent a creature 
 within the walls of a gloomy nunnery which she pined 
 to quit ; whilst Henry Stuart, only too willing to please 
 his sister-in-law to whom he was sincerely attached, 
 showed himself quite ready to follow the opinion of his 
 august temporal and spiritual sovereign. Public pro- 
 priety would be satisfied, it was suggested, if only the 
 solitary lady were allowed to inhabit her brother-in- 
 law's palace ; and as fate would have it, no arrangement 
 could have suited both the lady and her lover more 
 perfectly. For the Cardinal, practically living at his 
 episcopal city of Frascati, across the Roman Campagna, 
 rarely spent a night in his huge official palace of the 
 Cancelleria, one of the finest of the early Renaissance 
 secular buildings of Rome, which had been erected for 
 Girolamo Riario, the favourite of Sixtus IV., in the 
 sumptuous days of the Delia Rovere and the Borgia. 
 The Countess of Albany, now installed in a fine apart- 
 ment on the second floor of this splendid mansion, 
 was therefore destined to live practically in absolute 
 independence, and yet to enjoy the very valuable 
 and indeed indispensable qualification, of dwelling under 
 the roof of her husband's brother, who was not only 
 the wealthiest and most distinguished but also, perhaps, 
 the most respected of all the members of the Sacred 
 College. In vain did the helpless drunkard, the deserted 
 
 7 1 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 husband in Florence, storm and protest against the 
 liberty now allowed his wife, and against the presence 
 of Alfieri, who had returned to Rome in the middle of 
 May ; his mouthpiece, Prince Corsini, only got a severe 
 lecture for his pains from the Pope, who now diverted 
 half the Chevalier's Papal allowance of 12,000 crowns 
 to the use of the Countess ; whilst as to Alfieri, Pius 
 declared that the great poet honoured his capital by 
 coming to dwell therein. Furious letters to his brother 
 Henry, always wrapped up in his daily life of pious duty 
 and regal entertainment at Frascati, made no impression 
 on that determined and obstinate prince, now that he 
 had made up his mind to place the fullest confidence 
 in his sister-in-law's discretion and modesty ; whilst 
 we have already mentioned the Chevalier's failure to 
 win the good offices of the Archbishop of Florence. 
 Louise, Countess of Albany, therefore came to take up 
 her abode indefinitely in the palace of the Cancelleria 
 under the happiest of auspices, with the full approval 
 of Pope, Cardinal, and of Roman society in general. 
 
 In certain of its aspects, the Rome of Pius VI. was an 
 ideal spot to inhabit.* The present holder of the See 
 of St. Peter was strongly imbued with the notion of 
 making the Eternal City once more the centre of the 
 liberal arts, whilst he was a sincere admirer of his Medicean 
 predecessor of the Renaissance, Leo X., who with the 
 same end in view had even succeeded in carrying out 
 for a few years some of his magnificent schemes. As far 
 as was possible, a repetition of the far-off Leonine Age 
 was being attempted ; vast schemes of building in the 
 city and of the draining of the Pontine Marshes were 
 being undertaken ; fresh aqueducts were being con- 
 structed ; and a new sacristy was being added to the 
 colossal basilica of St. Peter's by this imitator of the 
 splendour-loving Medici. Rome was crowded with 
 artists, actors, singers, sculptors and every sort of pro- 
 fessional personage that could instruct or amuse. The 
 
 * Silvagni, Corte di Roma, chapters xiv.-xix. 
 
 72 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 world of fashion from all parts of Europe poured in a 
 ceaseless stream into the Papal capital, and all were 
 cordially welcomed thither, whatever their nationality, 
 their creed, or even their character. At this period, 
 just before the deluge of the unexpected French Revolu- 
 tion, the life and gaiety of Rome were remarkable. 
 Balls, fetes, assemblies, operas, ceremonies followed in 
 an endless circle ; and if the substructure of all this 
 pyramid of social splendour and activity were rotten 
 and the Papal exchequer rapidly approaching a state of 
 bankruptcy; what did such drawbacks matter to the 
 frivolous members of society, who danced, gambled, 
 feasted, and generally enjoyed the pleasant existence 
 that the place at this time afforded to its citizens and 
 its guests ? To have sighed and fretted in a convent, 
 amidst so much pleasure and social stir, would indeed 
 have been too cruel a privation for the Countess of 
 Albany, all eager as she was to taste of the many delights 
 that love and liberty could furnish. It was therefore 
 as much due to the indulgent nature of the Pope, as 
 to the complaisant notions of the trustful Cardinal, 
 that Louise owed her freedom and her happiness. Henry's 
 consent to the arrangement once given, then it became 
 nobody's business henceforward in that pleasure-seeking 
 and corrupt throng to point out later that the lady was 
 perhaps making an undue and improper use of that state 
 of independence, which she had been at such pains to 
 acquire. But for the time being her position was secure 
 and well denned. As the sister of the royal Cardinal 
 Stuart ; as the acknowledged and wronged wife of a 
 titular king ; as a German princess in her own right, 
 the Countess of Albany at once took rank in Roman 
 society as one of its most exalted leaders, yielding the 
 palm alone in this respect to the haughty Princess Rez- 
 zonico, niece of Pope Clement XIII. So charming and 
 witty a princess was naturally accepted by all with the 
 greatest delight as a welcome addition to their assemblies, 
 and the wealthiest prelates and nobles vied in entertain- 
 
 73 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 ing so interesting and agreeable a lady, who never risked 
 her popularity by insisting on the royal honours which 
 her quarrelsome spouse had always demanded so per- 
 sistently a few years before in this very city. The Cardinal 
 of York, to his credit be it said, took little part in this 
 extravagant existence, contenting himself with visiting 
 the city from Frascati only to attend to certain church 
 ceremonies or to despatch the business in connection 
 with his many offices. This aloofness from social pleasure 
 was, however, far from being shared by his fellow members 
 of the Sacred College, of whom Cardinal de Bernis, the 
 French Ambassador, was especially celebrated for his 
 gorgeous banquets and his sumptuous mode of living. 
 This prince of the Church, whose elegant but trivial 
 poetry had won him the nickname of " Babet la Bouque- 
 tiere " from the venomous tongue of Voltaire, possessed 
 a fine palace in the Corso, and his splendid entertain- 
 ments were imitated by his aspiring but less wealthy 
 colleagues. At such scenes of fashion and amusement 
 the Countess was a constant visitor and, indeed, her face 
 was rarely absent from the more noticeable of the recep- 
 tions in the great Roman palaces. Amidst such gay 
 surroundings, however, was seldom to be remarked the 
 handsome Piedmontese Count with his stern features 
 and flowing ruddy hair, who contented himself with 
 frequenting the comparatively few literary salons of the 
 city, notably that of Madame Pizzelli.* 
 
 Almost immediately on his return in May from Naples, 
 the Countess had taken further steps to ensure the good- 
 will of her easily duped brother-in-law, who, as she 
 herself speedily perceived, was as eager to condemn 
 any moral irregularity as he was slow to detect its presence. 
 To produce a good impression in his mind with regard 
 to Alfieri was her main object, and with this intent she 
 had promptly purchased a rare copy of Vergil (always 
 
 * Silvagni, vol. i. p. 229. Chapter xviii. of this fascinating work deals 
 with Alfieri in Rome. See also B. Magni, V. Alfieri in Roma. (II Buona- 
 rotti, May, 1864.) 
 
 74 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 the favourite pagan author with Italian ecclesiastics), 
 which she despatched by Alfieri's hand as a gift for the 
 Cardinal's library in the seminary of Frascati, which 
 he was now engaged in furnishing with its necessary 
 complement of books. 
 
 "May is, 1781. 
 
 " Since I had noticed, my dear Brother, that your 
 fine library lacked a good copy of Vergil, and since I 
 knew of a most beautiful example, I send you the very 
 book ; and I take the liberty of sending it to you by the 
 hand of Count Alfieri, who has dined to-day at my house, 
 and has told me he was going to-morrow to pay you his 
 respects. I hope, my dear Brother, you will do me the 
 honour of accepting my gift as a mark of my tender and 
 sincere attachment towards yourself. Would that I 
 could give you proofs of it every hour of the day ! But 
 rest fully persuaded that I am as devoted to you as if I 
 were your own sister, and accept the assurance of a 
 boundless affection. 
 
 " Louise." * 
 
 The poet prepared in characteristic fashion to settle 
 in Rome with the fixed purpose of enjoying thoroughly 
 what were now the three ruling passions of his life 
 — namely, his Lady, his books, and his horses. Before 
 leaving Florence he had even taken the step of abjuring 
 his rights as a Sardinian citizen, since every subject born 
 in Piedmont was liable to various acts of summary 
 interference on the part of its Government, which his 
 proud independent soul fiercely resented. To obtain 
 his freedom therefore, and to become quit of the galling 
 restrictions of the Piedmontese law, which compelled 
 the subjects of the King of Sardinia to publish all their 
 
 i writings at Turin under heavy penalties for infringement, 
 and which also required all landed proprietors to apply 
 
 j for passports when leaving the realm on every occasion, 
 * British Museum. Add MSS. 34, 634, / 29. 
 
 75 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Alfieri had decided to divest himself of the greater 
 portion of his hereditary estates of Cortemilia. By a 
 legal donation therefore to his sister Giulia, wife of the 
 Conte di Cumiana, the poet performed an act which 
 was undertaken rather from reasons of personal con- 
 venience than from brotherly generosity.* By reserving 
 to his own use the annual sum of 50,000 livres, he was 
 now rid of all obnoxious obligations to the Piedmontese 
 law, and also exempt from any further trouble in connec- 
 tion with the landed property whence he drew his 
 income ; the annual sum reserved being fully sufficient 
 to provide him with all the luxuries he might desire. 
 Free as air then, the Count Alfieri, " comte piedmontese 
 et dipiedmontise," was now able to hire the beautiful 
 Villa Strozzi on the Esquiline at the very moderate rent 
 of ten scudi a month. It was a lovely spot in those far- 
 off days ; a picturesque villa surrounded by vineyards, 
 olive groves and gardens, which enclosed many an ancient 
 rose-red ruin half-shrouded in tangled masses of verdure. 
 In this charming retreat within the walls of the city, yet 
 far enough removed from the human noise and stir that he 
 so cordially detested, Alfieri set to lead an ideal existence 
 at no great distance from his " Donna Amata " installed 
 in the great Palazzo della Cancelleria. Many hours a 
 day he worked with the true literary zest on his unfinished 
 tragedies, supporting himself on the most wholesome 
 and frugal food, for he had long abjured the use of wine 
 and all rich dishes. After a light meal at midday, he 
 was wont to ride furiously over the rolling stretches of 
 the grassy desolate Campagna, bounded by its ring of 
 historic mountains and dotted with many a ruined 
 Roman tomb and arch, that aroused his poetic nature 
 to composition. Sometimes these rides in the clear 
 crisp air were not solitary, for the beloved lady herself 
 was occasionally wont to accompany her lover on the 
 back of the favourite " Fido," for Louise was a capable 
 
 * The story of this " Donazione 99 is described at length in a special 
 chapter of the Vita, vol. ii. pp. 60-74. 
 
 76 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 and intrepid horse-woman. The study and the exercise 
 for the day being both completed to the poet's satisfac- 
 tion, he usually spent the evening with the Countess, 
 all of which daily routine he describes with loving 
 emphasis in the V ita. 
 
 "During these two years (May 1781, to May 1783) 
 in Rome I led a truly happy existence. The Villa Strozzi, 
 near the Baths of Diocletian, afforded me a delightful 
 retreat. The long mornings I spent wholly in study, 
 never moving from the house, except for an hour or two 
 spent in riding over those boundless solitudes of the 
 deserted neighbourhood of Rome, that invited me to 
 reflect, to mourn, and to compose verses. In the evening 
 I descended into the city, whence I returned never later 
 than eleven o'clock to my hermitage, restored by the 
 welcome sight of Her for whom alone I lived and laboured. 
 A life more free, more cheerful, more simple in the 
 suburbs of a great city one could never find, nor one more 
 congenial to my nature, character and occupations." * 
 
 Alfieri also speaks of his life at this period as being 
 onesta,f and certainly he seems to have been very cautious 
 and discreet in his hours of visiting the Countess and of 
 the length of time he spent beneath her roof. Doubtless 
 the prudent Madame de Maltzam supervised the move- 
 ments and meetings of this pair of lovers, who were still 
 half hoping to hear almost daily news of the sudden death 
 of the lady's husband, concerning whose increasing 
 ill-health reports were being constantly brought from 
 Florence. In any case, it is evident the amount of 
 attention paid by the poet to his sister-in-law aroused 
 no anxiety in the mind of the good Cardinal ; and if 
 Henry Stuart seemed satisfied with this state of things, 
 who in Rome was qualified to criticise this intellectual 
 friendship ? Provided only the rich and powerful 
 Cardinal of York was content to protest and champion 
 
 * Vita, vol. ii. p. no. 
 
 t Cj. the Sonnet Alta e la fiamma, che il mio cuor consuma {Poesie Amorose 
 P- 153). 
 
 77 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 his sister-in-law (as he did even against his own brother), 
 then it was nobody's business to interfere in the arrange- 
 ment, or even to hint at the smallest impropriety in the 
 romantic attachment between a great lady living apart 
 from her husband and her chosen cavaliere servente. 
 And yet it must have been patent to any thinking person, 
 that the same cavalier continuing to wait on the lady 
 after her flight elsewhere could not be regarded in the 
 same category of social indulgencies, which admitted 
 of such an anomaly, as the cavaliere servente himself. Be 
 that as it may, no one in Rome, priestly or lay, seems to 
 have raised an eyebrow at the pair, concerning whose 
 close friendship nobody was so wanting in tact or courtesy 
 as to inquire whether it proceeded from the head or the 
 heart, or from a commingling of both senses, as it did 
 in reality.* 
 
 To strengthen his position with the Roman authorities, 
 the poet also laid aside with ease for the time being his 
 austere republican ethics, making every effort to win the 
 good graces of the Pontiff, whom he had so roundly 
 abused a few years before. Apparently Pius bore Alfieri 
 no ill-will, for he was received with the utmost cordiality 
 at the Quirinal, where the Pope, to the intense but, of 
 course, concealed disgust of his kneeling suppliant, 
 patted the republican cheek in the most familiar and 
 friendly manner, much as the Medicean Pontiff Leo X. 
 had once embraced the disappointed Ariosto when openly 
 seeking coin and not kisses at the Roman court.f Not 
 only, however, had the ashamed but persistent lover 
 to endure this act of humiliation, but his pride in his 
 Muse was also destined to encounter a severe bat quite 
 unintentional rebuff from the well-meaning Pius. In 
 order to make himself more secure of the Papal favour 
 
 * For the non-platonic side of this romance, see the Sonnet Sovvienti 
 la fra la temenza e speme, which is excluded from all Alfieri's printed works, 
 but is to be found in Fabris' Studii Jlfieriani (Appendix, p. 231). See also 
 Bertana, p. 189, on this point. 
 
 t La mano e poi le gote amhe mi prese, 
 EH santo bacio in Vuna e Paltra diede. 
 
 78 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 for his own private ends, the poet finally decided to 
 present to the Pope the dedication of his Saul, generally 
 considered the best of his tragedies. To his intense 
 surprise and unspeakable mortification — for he deemed 
 his offer one of exceptional attraction — the Pope politely 
 declined the proffered distinction, excusing himself on 
 the ground that so close a connection between the tiara 
 of the papacy and the buskin of the despised stage was 
 most unsuitable and, indeed, absolutely impossible. It 
 is, however, only fair to add that Alfieri admits his reproof 
 on this occasion with candour and humility in the Vita, 
 and acknowledges that his snub was thoroughly well 
 deserved, since his offer of the dedication had been 
 tendered in a spirit of base deceit and with an ulterior 
 object in view.* Nevertheless, by means of flattery and 
 dissimulation he was enabled to obtain and hold the 
 approval both of the Pope and the Cardinal during his 
 two years' residence in Rome, so that, but for an un- 
 foreseen accident, he might have retained this advantage 
 until such time as the expected demise of the lady's 
 husband had removed the sword of Damocles, ever hang- 
 ing above their heads during this second phase of their 
 love-idyll. 
 
 Alfieri and the Countess seem to have been fairly 
 circumspect in their conduct to the world at large, and 
 as not a few of their meetings were arranged in secret, 
 it is highly probable that their rides together over the 
 rolling sward of the Campagna, wherein both delighted, 
 were unknown to any save to Madame de Maltzam and 
 to the Count's confidential valet, Elia, now in the employ- 
 ment of the Countess of Albany. 
 
 In the long hours of study or of riding the poet, it 
 seems, was wont to console his temporary solitude with 
 the absent lady's miniature that he invariably carried, 
 stopping at spare moments to apostrophise the smiling 
 face, as one may infer from the following sonnet composed 
 about this time : 
 
 * Fita, voj. ii. p. io<j., 
 
 79 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Thou art, thou art Herself ! so deftly painted, 
 Each cherished feature seems with life to glow. 
 The rose-bud mouth, the bosom lily-tinted, 
 The dark and lustrous eyes so well I know. 
 Concealed within my breast this Image sainted 
 Accompanies my steps where'er I go, 
 I touch and fondle it as one demented, 
 I press is to my lips to whisper low. 
 Ah, then it seems to smile at mine emotion 
 And even speak ; " Call not those kisses lost 
 In vain caprice ; for such is the devotion ! 
 Whereof your absent Friend makes constant boast, 
 That in the future with a double portion 
 She'll recompense all that your love has cost."* 
 
 It is easy to imagine the delightful existence the pair 
 were leading at this period : Alfieri working diligently 
 and successfully at his self-set task in a pleasant retreat 
 on the Esquiline ; the Countess enjoying her fill of the 
 social gaiety of the Roman capital, and both ever wrapped, 
 present or absent, waking or sleeping, in their secret 
 love, which a possible exposure and the dreaded sense 
 of a forcible separation made all the dearer and sweeter. 
 Alfieri now was in the full bloom of his manhood and 
 in the first fervour of that career of his literary ambition, 
 which formed one of the strongest bonds between the 
 lady and himself. His handsome face, his reputation 
 for profound learning, an attractive eccentricity, and 
 his evident devotion for the lovely wife of the Pretender, 
 all combined to invest his vigorous personality with a 
 halo of romance in the eyes of those fashionable persons, 
 whose assemblies he rarely deigned to honour with his 
 presence, preferring early hours and simple fare to the 
 splendid balls and banquets held in the Roman palaces. 
 Of the compelling charm of the Countess at this date 
 we have ample testimony. Her beauty, which was 
 increased rather than diminished by a pallor of the 
 complexion that had found its origin in her late life of ill— 
 usuage and anxiety in Florence, was radiant and renowned ; 
 indeed, the intervening years since her last visit to 
 * Tu set, tu set fur dessa ! amate forme (Poesie Amorose, p. 125). 
 
 80 
 
HENRY STUART, CARDINAL DUKE OF YORK 
 From the portrait by Pompeo Batoni 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 Rome had given her more mature grace, had enlarged 
 and improved her mind, so that she was now considered 
 in truth a donna intelletnale, and no mere aspirant to that 
 term ; whilst her caustic wit, for which she had been 
 noted from her childhood, had doubled in point and 
 pungency. She was known to be the idol and the 
 Egeria of the erratic but brilliant poet, who tried (but 
 all too feebly and with transparent effort) to show to 
 the world that nothing save a mutual love for letters 
 bound him to the side of so exquisite and exalted a 
 personage. Thus the wit, learning and loveliness of the 
 Countess ; the handsome person, the sad reputation 
 and the noble ideals of Vittorio Alfieri ; the convenient 
 blindness of the pious Cardinal of York ; continued 
 for nearly two years topics of whispered conversation 
 in the salons of Rome, where all society was vastly amused 
 and very far from being shocked at the rumoured intrigue 
 between the pair, both of whom, it so chanced, were in 
 the good graces of the Pope and the Roman court. 
 
 In such a transitory condition of affairs, it seems quite 
 evident that sooner or later the two lovers must some 
 day be expelled from this paradise, wherein they 
 were straying under false pretences. Yet such was the 
 indifference of the Roman officials, and such the obstinate 
 belief of the Cardinal in his sister-in-law's integrity, 
 that the intimacy proceeded unchecked month after 
 month ; whilst no appeal from his brother in Florence 
 could move the Cardinal to see matters in the same light 
 as the outraged and protesting husband, who perhaps 
 had persons in Rome to spy upon the pair and to report 
 their delinquencies. On the contrary, Alfieri was grow- 
 ing more popular in Rome, thanks partly to the efforts 
 of the Countess and partly to his own anxiety to place 
 on the stage one of the tragedies he had recently com- 
 pleted, the Antigone, founded on the touching Greek 
 drama of Sophocles. For this purpose the handsome 
 Duchess of Zagarolo and the Duke and Duchess of Ceri, 
 members of the great Papal families of Odescalchi and 
 
 F 81 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Rospigliosi, were induced to act with the poet himself, 
 who undertook the part of Creon, for the play only 
 required four persons on the stage in all. After some 
 hesitation, it was decided to present the drama in the 
 newly constructed theatre of the Spanish Embassy in 
 the Piazza di Spagna, and thither on an evening in 
 November 1782, the whole of Roman society was invited 
 to witness the Count's tragedy. On the occasion of 
 the event a modish and inquisitive throng, lay and clerical, 
 Roman and foreign, assembled in the official palace of 
 the Spanish Embassy. The Sacred College was well 
 represented, its most conspicuous absentee being his 
 Royal Highness and Eminence of York, who rarely 
 attended entertainments in the city, fortunately on this 
 occasion for the author of the play and for his distin- 
 guished friend, whose expected presence was evidently 
 looked forward to by certain of the invited guests with 
 more gusto than the severe dialogue of the tragedy 
 itself. Conspicuous among the glittering crowd with 
 the gorgeous dresses of the gentlemen and the powdered 
 hair and diamonds of the ladies appeared the scarlet 
 robes of the gallant old Piedmontese, Cardinal Gerdil, 
 immensely proud of the genius of his fellow countryman, 
 and especially honoured by the host, the Duca Grimaldi. 
 Cardinal de Bernis was, of course, noticeable with his 
 devoted Princess Santacroce as usual beside him, whilst 
 the names of the great ladies and nobles of Rome who 
 were present would fill several pages. To the seat of 
 honour over all was conducted the Princess Rezzonico, 
 niece of Pope Clement XIII., and known usually as the 
 " Senatrice," of which title this influential woman was 
 especially proud. Yet although the beauty and splendour 
 of the regal Princess Rezzonico dominated the whole 
 room with its courtly prelates, its resplendent gentlemen 
 and its bejewelled ladies of fashion, the real queen of 
 the evening was the lady whom ten years before the 
 Swiss, Carl- Victor Bonstetten, had dubbed " Regina 
 dei Cuori." As Louise, Countess of Albany, entered the 
 82 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 crowded theatre with her delicate pale skin illumined 
 by the soft light of hundreds of wax candles, in her 
 magnificent court dress and with the historic jewels 
 of the Stuarts and the Sobieskis sparkling in her bodice, 
 in her soft fair hair and on her breast, the whole company- 
 was seized with overwhelming admiration or envy, as 
 the case might be. All guessed or knew the secret tie 
 that bound her to the author of the tragedy they were 
 about to witness, and it became a second and a yet more 
 interesting occupation to turn from the sorrows of 
 Antigone on the stage to study her radiant and intelligent 
 face each time her lover appeared upon the boards to 
 act for her and for her alone. Thus the pleasure-loving 
 world of Papal Rome gained a double entertainment 
 that memorable evening, and the Countess of Albany 
 a double triumph from the effect of her own beauty 
 and from the impression that her lover's genius created 
 on all around her. 
 
 After the curtain had been rung down for the last 
 time, the distinguished quartette of amateurs been 
 applauded, and the last strains of Cimarosa's tuneful 
 melodies had died away, a buzz of conversation arose 
 from the gaily-coloured mass of fine ladies and their 
 squires, as the host led the way to a great saloon where 
 supper was served to his many guests. A hundred 
 servants in liveries of canary with red stockings, the 
 royal colours of Spain, attended to the wants of these 
 elegant creatures, offering on silver salvers cakes, jellies, 
 sweetmeats and above all delicious ices flavoured from 
 an old recipe and served in little cups of spun sugar, 
 a pretty novelty which aroused much mirthful admira- 
 tion. On all sides the author was being congratulated 
 by the first persons of Rome, whilst the lady was assuredly 
 conscious that the complimentary speeches made by all 
 present to Alfieri were largely directed to herself, who 
 was universally regarded as the poet's source of inspira- 
 tion. Of all the triumphs in the course of a long and 
 chequered career, the reception in the Spanish Embassy 
 
 8 3 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 with the performance of Antigone perhaps afforded her 
 the greatest satisfaction. She had been recognised 
 thereat as indeed the Queen of Hearts, and all Rome 
 had hastened to offer real or pretended homage to her 
 beauty, her rank, her talents and, above all, to her skill 
 in attracting to her feet so illustrious a lover. The 
 acting of Antigone at the Spanish Embassy indeed 
 marked the zenith of the success and happiness of the 
 Countess, and as not unfrequently happens in such a 
 case, its sunny brilliance only portended the coming 
 of the dark storms of sorrow.* 
 
 The destruction of this fool's paradise came about 
 (as was perhaps inevitable under such circumstances) 
 with appalling suddenness. Towards the end of March 
 1783, the news reached Rome that the lonely Chevalier 
 was at last lying at the point of death in his dismal 
 Florentine palace ; and this information, which must 
 have raised for the moment the high hopes of the lovers, 
 induced the Cardinal of York, though with great reluct- 
 ance, to proceed to Florence. But the vitality of 
 Charles Stuart was truly marvellous, for when the 
 Cardinal arrived on the scene, the prince was already 
 out of immediate danger and fully conscious. In his 
 brother's sick-room then (if we can trust Alfieri's own 
 account) the Cardinal was for the first time brought 
 to realise his own equivocal position in allowing the 
 existence of a scandal which was patent to all in Rome, 
 save to the unsuspecting guardian of the lady herself. 
 At first it seems Henry refused to believe in his brother's 
 version of the story, but the arguments used by the 
 priests of his own household and those whom Archbishop 
 Martini (whom the Countess calls a busybody in one 
 of her letters to the Cardinal) had sent to minister to 
 the supposed dying penitent, were fully able to persuade 
 him of the truth of Charles' allegations. Burning with 
 a not unnatural anger at the trick which had been played 
 upon him, he returned to Rome with the firm intention 
 
 * Silvagni, Corte di Roma, cap. xviii. 
 
 84 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 of putting a step without delay to the intimacy between 
 the Countess and Alfieri which he had hitherto sanctioned. 
 Such a step was quite conceivable, but the poor Cardinal, 
 who could rarely hold his tongue under any mental 
 excitement, must needs talk of the matter before all 
 sorts of persons, and even go so far as to hasten to the 
 Pope with his tale of grievances. To the lady herself 
 he wrote a curt note, forbidding her to receive Alfieri 
 again in his palace of the Cancelleria ; whereat the 
 Countess, smothering for the time being her wrath and 
 dismay, at once set to propitiate and deny, whilst promis- 
 ing to carry out her brother-in-law's command. In 
 the meantime she appealed apparently to the Pope, 
 who would perhaps have listened to her plausible argu- 
 ments but for fear of offending the Cardinal of York, 
 for the latter now had lashed himself to a white heat of 
 passion against the poet for having taken such advantage 
 of his easy disposition and unsuspecting nature.* Already 
 at the Cardinal's eager request a mandate had been 
 issued, bidding Alfieri quit Papal territory ; and though 
 it is possible he might have been allowed to remain 
 temporarily at the Villa Strozzi, if he promised faithfully 
 nevermore to attempt to visit the Countess, he saw the 
 obvious necessity of his departure, before a further 
 order of the Roman Government might compel him 
 forcibly to leave the States of the Church. To this 
 decision the Countess herself in a letter full of despair 
 unutterable also urged her lover, and thus on the morning 
 of May 4, 1783, were " Psipsio and Psipsia " torn apart, 
 the latter to remain in a city filled with gossip and 
 curiosity concerning herself, and the former to carry 
 his egotistic tears of grief and humiliation to the sym- 
 pathetic Gori, the friend of his heart, at Siena. In 
 the Vita, Alfieri refuses to admit his actual expulsion 
 from Rome, but with the enmity of so powerful a person- 
 age as the Cardinal of York, the issue of an order of 
 compulsory removal must have been merely a matter 
 * Last of the Royal Stuarts, pp. 155-159. 
 
 85 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of time. " Expelled or not expelled," comments the 
 unkind Signore Bertana, " it is merely a question of 
 expression. He left Rome in fine because he was not 
 allowed to stay there any longer ! "* Alfieri's own 
 account is perhaps worth quoting here to see how he 
 glosses over this most unpleasant incident in his life. 
 
 " It was the fourth day of May in the year 1783 — 
 which will ever be, and has been till now, my bitterest 
 remembrance — that I then removed from Her who 
 was more than half of myself. And of the four or five 
 separations from Her undergone by me, this was the 
 most terrible for me, since every hope of seeing her again 
 was so uncertain and remote. . . . And thus did I 
 leave my only Lady, my books, my villa, my peace and 
 Myself in Rome, travelling thence like a man damned 
 and distraught." t 
 
 Here then we shall leave Alfieri for the present wending 
 his way in intense misery of separation and shame towards 
 the faithful Gori at Siena, whilst we continue to trace 
 the fortunes of the luckless woman he had abandoned 
 so unwillingly. Whatever her feelings towards her 
 brother-in-law must have been — and the fact that she 
 had been deceiving him and wronging the honour of 
 his House for the past two years could not have made 
 her less bitter or unreasonable — the prudent Louise 
 was determined to keep silence and not to quarrel with 
 him. The possibility of an enforced return to the 
 nunnery in Via Vittoria, or even of a patched-up recon- 
 ciliation with her hated husband, spread a terror in her 
 mind, so that she was determined, even if she had been 
 deprived of her lover, at least not to lose her liberty 
 also. In the letter therefore that she wrote to the 
 Cardinal-Duke, she assumes her innocence ; maintains 
 the dismissal of Alfieri is a mere vexatious caprice of the 
 Cardinal's, which she has hastened to put into practice, 
 however distasteful ; and only blames her brother-in- 
 law for making public a matter which might have been 
 * Bertana, p. 197. t Vita, vol. ii. p. 109. 
 
 86 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 settled without any scandal whatsoever. This letter, 
 which we quote here, is a very good example of the 
 whole series of evasive, intentionally misleading letters 
 she wrote to the Cardinal between 1781 and 1784. 
 She flatters her correspondent continually ; she is for 
 ever appealing to his kind heart ; she exhausts herself 
 in protestations of duty and affection ; yet she never 
 once attempts to excuse or explain her conduct with 
 regard to Alfieri ; whilst it is fairly evident from her 
 later allusions to the Cardinal that all the time she both 
 hated and despised him. 
 
 " Sunday Evening. 
 
 " According to the advice you gave me, my Brother, 
 for which I thanked you at the time, because I believed 
 the matter was quite private, I have induced Monsieur 
 le Comte d'Alfieri to leave Rome. He went this morn- 
 ing. I should have sought to hasten his departure, 
 but after serious meditation and after consulting with 
 the most sensible of my friends I concluded that an 
 abrupt and apparently enforced exit would have given 
 colour to those disagreeable but ill-founded rumours 
 on my conduct, that are only too prevalent. Well, 
 in any case, your wish is fulfilled and your advice followed. 
 The only grievance I feel is that the matter has aroused 
 gossip which injures my reputation and my sense of 
 honour. See what unpleasantness you would have 
 spared me, if (as we had originally agreed) you had 
 confided your views of the matter to myself alone, and had 
 not most unnecessarily informed the Pope ; in short, 
 if you had not allowed yourself in your first excitement 
 to follow a course of action (and in this I appeal to your 
 kind heart), which you must now perceive was most 
 distressing to myself, not only because I am your sister- 
 in-law, but because I am a woman. Do not, however, 
 dread that from this time onward I am going to load 
 you with reproaches ; for I shall avoid doing so. I shall 
 only recall the marks of affection I have received from 
 
 87 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 you in the past, whereof I shall always retain the warmest 
 recollection. In spite of all that is just past, I feel a 
 devotion no less sincere, of which I entreat you, my 
 Brother, to accept the assurance. 
 " Your very humble and obedient Servant and Sister, 
 
 " Louise." * 
 
 Towards the lady herself, now he had expelled the 
 intruder, who was guilty of imperilling the good name 
 of the Royal Stuarts, the Cardinal bore no ill-will, and 
 perhaps even felt vexed with himself for having squelched 
 this equivocal friendship in so ruthless and blundering 
 a fashion. He now did all that was possible to revive 
 the Countess' drooping spirits, and to make her forget 
 the loss of her treasured cavaliere servente. Already he 
 had been generous in the extreme to his sister-in-law, 
 but he now offers to bestow on her, by way of consola- 
 tion apparently, certain of the Stuart diamonds enclosed 
 in a chest at Frascati, adding, however, that he fears 
 some legal restrictions may possibly prevent his obtaining 
 them for her. To this Louise, whose grief and desolation 
 were in reality far beyond being appeased by any gift of 
 jewels, returns a graceful if an insincere reply to the 
 guardian who had deprived her of her lover. 
 
 " . . . I have thought a second time about the 
 diamonds, and if you have the smallest scruple about 
 opening the strong box, I beg you to do no such thing. 
 I note your anxiety to please me, and that suffices. I 
 only ask for your affection, and for nothing else in the 
 world. As your brother's wife I am the proper person 
 to have the diamonds, but there seem to be certain 
 objections which you have no power to overrule. In 
 any case everybody will hear you wanted to give them 
 to me, for I shall tell this to all my friends. It is a proof 
 of your affection and confidence in me, so be assured 
 I am grateful to you." t 
 
 * British Museum. Add MSS. 34, 634, / 51. 
 t British Museum. Add MSS. 39, 634, / 55. 
 
 88 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 So many contradictory versions exist of the pother 
 that ended in the abrupt departure or expulsion of 
 Alfieri from Rome, that perhaps the following account 
 from the pen of a celebrated Englishwoman, living in 
 Rome at that very time and a lifelong friend of the 
 Countess of Albany, may be inserted here, since her state- 
 ment is in all probability exactly that with which the 
 Countess satisfied her many questioners and sympathisers 
 at the moment. The writer is no less a person than 
 Miss Cornelia Knight (the devoted attendant of the 
 Princess Charlotte of Wales, concerning whom she wrote 
 a memoir of no small historical value). 
 
 " There was much ill-natured gossip this year on the 
 subject of the Countess of Albany and Count Alfieri. 
 The moment the Countess heard that the Pretender 
 was lying at the point of death, she forwarded the news 
 to Cardinal York at Frascati, who instantly hastened to 
 Florence to see his brother. On his return to Rome, 
 he spoke only a few cold words to the Countess, but 
 informed the Pope it was his brother's wish that his 
 wife should either dismiss Count Alfieri or go into a 
 convent. The Countess thereupon wrote a letter to 
 the Pope, in which she cleared her own character, and 
 declared that if Count Alfieri's visiting her gave his 
 Holiness any displeasure, she was quite sure she could 
 prevail on that gentleman to leave Rome. The Pope 
 replied that he approved of her conduct, and had no 
 doubt of its correctness, but as the Cardinal disapproved 
 of the Count's visits to her house, it might be as well 
 to request his absence, taking care, however, to do it 
 in such a manner as not to offend him." * 
 
 In opposition to Miss Knight's, or rather the Countess' 
 own version of the affair, we may quote that of Sir Horace 
 Mann, which is even wider of the mark, for the British 
 envoy, who had formerly been convinced of the lady's 
 ill-treatment in Florence, now veers round and seems 
 to take the husband's part, much as had been done by 
 # Autobiography of Miss Cornelia Knight, Vol. i. pp. 77, 78. 
 
 8 9 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 the Cardinal of York, whom he rudely calls the silliest 
 mortal that ever existed. In his letter to Horace 
 Walpole, dated April 26, a week before the hurried exit 
 of the cavaliere servente, Mann states : 
 
 " I formerly gave you an account of the fracas in the 
 Pretender's family, by the elopement of his wife, whom 
 everybody then pitied and applauded. The tables are 
 now turned. The cat, at last, is out of the bag. The 
 Cardinal of York's visit to his Brother gave the latter 
 an opportunity to undeceive him, by proving to him 
 that the complaints laid to his charge of ill-using her 
 were invented to cover a plot formed by Count Alfieri 
 who (by working up Tragedies, of which he has wrote 
 many, is most expert, though he always kept behind the 
 curtain) had imposed upon the Great Duke, the Pope, 
 and the Cardinal, and all those who took her part. All 
 he said on that subject, at a time that he thought himself 
 and was supposed by everybody to be in the most immi- 
 nent danger, made a great impression on his Brother, 
 who on his return to Rome exposed the whole to the 
 Pope, and obtained an order from him to Count Alfieri 
 to leave the Pope's State in fifteen days. Not content 
 with that satisfaction, the imprudent Cardinal (for a 
 more silly mortal never existed) published the whole 
 of the Countess' intrigues with Alfieri. 
 
 " This has exasperated all the Roman nobility against 
 the Cardinal, insomuch that instead of considering the 
 Delinquencies of the Parties, their wrath is turned against 
 the Publisher of the Scandal, and they compassionate 
 the situation of the disconsolate Lady, who, I really 
 believe, will marry the Count a week after she becomes 
 a widow." * 
 
 One plain fact emerges from these two widely divergent 
 and equally inaccurate accounts, namely, that it was the 
 chief complaint of the Countess of Albany, guilty or 
 innocent, that the dismissal of Alfieri, which might have 
 been carried out soberly and discreetly, was made by 
 * Mann and Manners, vol. ii. p. 400. 
 
 90 
 
The Second Visit to Rome 
 
 the imprudent Cardinal an event sufficient to arouse 
 scandal and gossip, so that his sister-in-law's character 
 became immediately a theme of comment and discussion 
 in every Roman salon. The majority pitied and upheld 
 her ; a few blamed or jeered ; but praise or blame or 
 compassion seemed all alike obnoxious to the Countess of 
 Albany, who had been utterly humiliated by the result 
 of her brother-in-law's hasty action. A sudden visit 
 to Rome from the Princess-Mother of Stolberg-Gedern, 
 obviously undertaken with the intention of coaxing or 
 coercing her rebellious daughter into a reconciliation 
 with her husband, only served the more to exasperate 
 the mind and harden the heart of Louise, who openly 
 despised her frivolous and worldly mother.* Sore 
 stricken both in her heart and in her pride, the lady was 
 glad indeed to exchange a city filled with tattle concern- 
 ing her late misfortunes for a peaceful villa in the cool 
 Alban hills near Genzano, whither on the advice of the 
 Cardinal she now retired for the summer months. 
 
 * Vitelleschi, p. 463. 
 
 91 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 SEPARATION 
 
 " By life or death will our sharp trial be ended ? 
 Yet since upon a single thread, I know, 
 Frail as may be, our future is suspended, 
 Guarding thy life in mine I forward go." 
 
 V . Alfieri to the Countess of Albany 
 
 On reaching Siena the dejected poet at once sought the 
 house of Francesco Gori, whose modest dwelling is still 
 pointed out to the stranger as one of the sights of the city, 
 and is now distinguished by a tablet to commemorate its 
 connection with so many of Alfieri's trials and triumphs. 
 Here, in spite of Gori's soothing presence, Alfieri gave 
 vent for some weeks to the most profound and unmanly 
 grief. He refused to see any member of his once appre- 
 ciated crochiette saporito, save his host ; and no doubt the 
 tale of his late misadventures and indignities in Rome 
 soon became the talk of the quiet old city. At length, 
 somewhat recovered from his unseemly paroxysm of 
 mingled grief and shame, he set forth with saddle horses 
 to make a pilgrimage to the places associated with the 
 four great Italian poets, whom he especially revered and 
 whose equal he certainly fancied himself. Thus he 
 visited the tomb of Dante at Ravenna, the house of 
 Ariosto at Ferrara,* the home of the learned Bembo at 
 Padua, and other scenes recalling events in the lives of the 
 literary giants of Italy. Amid so many recollections of 
 the glorious past, the poet gradually regained his studious 
 
 * Lady Holland in her Journal relates that she saw Alfieri's signature 
 appended at the foot of Ariosto's famous MS.: " Vittorio Alfieri vede e 
 vennero y 10 Giugno, 1783." 
 
 92 
 
Separation 
 
 habits, whilst the news of the recent and reluctant acknow- 
 ledgment of the United States of America by monarchical 
 England once more aroused the old republican afflatus 
 (which had been lulled to sleep in Papal Rome) to result 
 in his ode to " America Libera." Returning to Siena, 
 Alfieri resumed his interrupted work of revising and 
 polishing six more of his tragedies, which he was anxious 
 to publish in the autumn at latest. Easier in mind and 
 once more engrossed with his literary ideals, he was now 
 able to look more calmly upon life itself, and even to 
 buoy up his sunken spirits with the hope of a possible re- 
 union with his lady, which is certainly expressed in the 
 following sonnet : — 
 
 Who dares deprive me of that face so charming, 
 Wherein both chastity and beauty meet, 
 Inviting love, yet evil thoughts disarming, 
 By its own smile, so artless and so sweet ? 
 
 0 what barbarian hand with force alarming 
 Hath broke the fountain of my life's retreat ? 
 
 Hath dimmed those eyes that once my passion calming 
 Filled heart and brain with every thought discreet ? 
 Hate, envy and hypocrisy ay ready 
 
 To don the mantle of mock piety ? r %i) 
 
 Have caused my tears ; and yet I do not dread ye, fjT. ®Olt tts 
 Accursed band, because the day is nigh, ^^STftui ij ^ 
 
 When seated all-triumphant by my Lady, 
 
 1 shall with poet's scorn your spite defy.* 
 
 This sonnet at least speaks plainly of hope and restora- 
 tion, as well as the poet's intention of avenging himself 
 and the lady for the " hypocrisy " of the guilty Cardinal 
 and his advisers, although an unprejudiced critic might 
 be led to consider this failing had been shown in so small 
 degree by the complaining lovers in their late efforts to 
 hood-wink that pious prince of the Church. But we 
 are left very much in the dark as to the exact behaviour 
 of Alfieri at this critical period of his life and fate, for 
 though he was writing constantly, perhaps daily, to the 
 heart-stricken woman at Genzano the whole of this 
 * Chi mi allontana dal leggiadro Viso {Poesie Amorose, p. 145). 
 
 93 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 summer, not a line of that correspondence has survived 
 to tell us the true and exact tale of their plans, their 
 sorrows, their hopes, their fears. That Alfieri in the first 
 uncontrollable outburst of his fury and disappointment 
 had even meditated suicide (seriously or merely in a 
 poetical sense it is impossible to say) is proved by a sonnet, 
 composed apparently to assure his lady that for her own 
 sake and for no other reason was he willing to preserve a 
 life which had grown hateful to him since their enforced 
 separation. 
 
 O Lady mine, alone thou knowest the reason 
 
 Why overwhelmed with shame I yet consent 
 
 To eke existence out, for my decision 
 
 To perish means thine own dear life is spent. 
 
 Wherefore I count such tempting thoughts for treason, 
 
 Which counsel steel with merciful intent ; 
 
 Whilst in my ears I hear thy voice of passion 
 
 A solitary life-in-death resent. 
 
 Ah me, how helplessly my limbs are banded 
 
 In iron shackles of resistless woe ! 
 
 By life or death will our sharp trial be ended ? 
 
 Yet since upon a single thread, I know, 
 
 Frail as may be, our future is suspended, 
 
 Guarding thy life in mine, I forward go. # 
 
 Here Alfieri urges his " Donna Amata " to take courage, 
 to trust to her lover's unselfish determination not to 
 destroy himself, and to wait till the snapping of that frail 
 thread, the life of the invalid husband in Florence, which 
 could not now be long postponed. Efforts to meet 
 secretly with her whom he adored as the better half of 
 himself, he seems never to have contemplated for one 
 moment ; whether from fear of compromising further 
 the lady's character or from a poet's peculiar sense of his 
 own luxury of grief, we are wholly unable to decide. Thus 
 separated by many leagues, the pair of unhappy lovers 
 passed through that memorable and odious summer, 
 consoling themselves with futile hopes and vague plans 
 for meeting at some future date. 
 
 * Tu il sai, donna mia vera, e il sai tu sola (Poesie Amorose, p. 177). 
 
 94 
 
Separation 
 
 Towards the middle of October, however, Alfieri took 
 a step which appears strange in an ardent lover, who had 
 been so lately prating of suicide and vengeance. This was 
 his fixed intention of travelling to England in order to buy 
 horses, an expedition which would naturally remove him 
 further than ever from Rome and his " Donna Amata." 
 It is useless to analyse the reasons for this sudden resolu- 
 tion, except to suggest that Alfieri, being such a mass of 
 egotism and inconsequence, was profoundly indifferent 
 to the feelings of the unhappy woman, who undoubtedly 
 was deeply hurt thereby, though she was loyal enough 
 never to question her lover's action or to protest against 
 his leaving Italy. All letters, however, dealing with this 
 matter between the lovers have perished, during Vanno 
 disgraziato fer tutti i due, as the Countess herelf records 
 in a manuscript copy of Alfieri's sonnets, so that we can 
 only guess at the nature of the poet's arguments and the 
 lady's pleadings. 
 
 We have stated with truth that none of the love letters 
 passing between the Countess of Albany and Alfieri are 
 to-day in existence, but by a strange chance five of the 
 lady's letters still remain intact to give us a valuable clue 
 to her feelings. These were, however, addressed not to 
 Alfieri himself, but, strange to say, to his bosom friend 
 Gori, with whom the Countess had at this time but a very 
 slight personal acquaintance. They were discovered 
 more than a quarter of a century ago by the talented 
 writer, who conceals her real name under the title of 
 " Vernon Lee," in the Communal Library of Siena, where 
 she found these faded but most valuable pieces of paper 
 amongst the late Signor Giuseppe Porri's collection of un- 
 edited letters of the Countess to her Sienese friends. 
 Only a small portion of this most important and interest- 
 ing literary " find " was, however, translated and given 
 to the world in " Vernon Lee's " Countess of Albany, so 
 that a complete translation of these five fugitive epistles, 
 that have escaped by some rare chance both the pious 
 hand of the destroyer and the erasing finger of Time, 
 
 95 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 cannot be regarded as superfluous in any detailed biog- 
 raphy of the Countess of Albany. The letters are 
 undated, with the exception of one, which merely bears 
 the words " Genzano, Martedi le 19 " ; but from internal 
 evidence it is fairly easy to arrange their due order, and 
 also to conclude that they were written and despatched 
 some time during the late summer or early autumn of 
 that aforesaid year of calamity for " Psipsio and Psipsia," 
 namely, 1783. 
 
 The five letters in question are composed in a tolerable 
 Italian that is perhaps superior to the Countess' usual 
 medium of French ; and, indeed, it may be noted here that 
 it was only at Alfieri's instigation that she had undertaken 
 to study and acquire the language of the country of her 
 residence. As usual, stops are conspicuous by their 
 absence, so that occasionally the sense is somewhat 
 obscured by the absence of them. Only in one place in 
 Italian literature are these five letters apparently repro- 
 duced in their entirety,* and only portions of them have 
 been translated into English ; but it would seem that a 
 rapid perusal of this torrential outpouring of a wild devo- 
 tion is essential to all who care to understand and realise 
 something of the true living character of the Countess of 
 Albany, who appears herein so utterly different a creature 
 from what the remainder of her voluminous edited 
 correspondence leads us to suppose. " Vernon Lee " 
 rather arbitrarily calls the contents of these human docu- 
 ments " an excited, unconsecutive, unceasing, discursive, 
 reiterating gabble of hysteria ; eager, vague, impotent 
 thoughts suddenly vanishing and as suddenly coming to a 
 dead stop ; everything rattled off as if between two sobs 
 or convulsions." t Whether or no the reader will wholly 
 endorse this description, no one can fail to be convinced 
 of the genuine, absorbing, overwhelming, irrational, and 
 absolutely unselfish devotion of the Countess for her lover ; 
 
 * R. Tomei-Finamore, La Comtessa d? Albany e il suo Carte ggio Senese. 
 (Rivista Abruzzese, 1892.) 
 t Vernon Lee, p. 132. 
 
 96 
 
Separation 
 
 and it seems a pity that the many blind admirers of Alfieri 
 and the many mean detractors of his " Donna Amata " 
 cannot be brought to realise the vast depths of devotion 
 which the poet had at his command. 
 
 I 
 
 " Genzano, Tuesday the igth. 
 "Dear Signore Francesco, — I do not understand 
 why I have received no news of the Friend by the 
 ordinary post. I am very anxious about it. I hope 
 I shall get news to-morrow. If only you realised how 
 miserable and depressed I am ! It seems to me that 
 my load of wretchedness increases daily. I do not 
 know how I am to exist without the Friend. I meditate 
 self-destruction. I do nothing but weep, nor can I ever 
 think upon him save with utter torment. Music alone 
 deadens my grief somewhat, and I spend my whole day 
 playing on the harp, and that because I know the Friend 
 would be pleased if I learned to play well. If you could 
 only guess at the horrible thoughts that cross my mind ! 
 Sometimes I believe in, and sometimes I fear for, the 
 Friend's recollection of me. He may desert me, and yet I 
 ought to desire such an ending for his own sake. But I 
 am not strong enough to make so great a sacrifice, when he 
 is essential to my happiness and to my very existence, 
 so that without feeling secure of him I no longer wish to 
 remain in this world of sorrows. What do I here save 
 eat, drink, and sleep ? Useless creature that I am ! I 
 have neither peace nor joy in store, unless I recover the 
 Friend. I live in a state of constant agitation, in a place 
 that I abominate, and amongst acquaintances with whom 
 I have not an idea in common. If this state of things is 
 not brought to a speedy end, I shall have to take some 
 violent action. O dear Signore Francesco, how your 
 own heart must sink at seeing the Friend so distressed ! 
 Would that he were able to remain with you ! But I 
 expect he will want to travel and to wander far away. 
 
 G 97 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 However, if travel distract his mind, then I ought to 
 approve of it. His welfare counts before mine, and I am 
 ready to sacrifice everything in order that he may be 
 happy, so deep is my love for him. O God, what a fate 
 is mine ! Who knows how it will all end ? My life so 
 far has been full of sorrow, but I have had one compen- 
 sation for it in finding in him a friend who loves me. 
 Give me news of the Friend's health ; my own is pretty 
 good. Farewell, dear Signore Francesco." 
 
 II 
 
 " Dear Signore Francesco, — I am truly grateful for 
 your sympathy. You cannot even in imagination conceive 
 of our misery. My own grief is no whit less than our 
 Friend's. There are moments when I feel my heart torn 
 asunder, as I reflect on what he must be enduring. My 
 sole consolation, and it is no small one, is that you are with 
 him. Never leave him alone. He is worse, and I know 
 how keenly he appreciates your company. You are the 
 only person who does not irritate him, and to whom he 
 always gladly returns. O dear Signore Francesco, in 
 what a sea of sorrows are we sunk ! And you yourself 
 also ; for our troubles are your own. I live no more, and 
 were it not for the Friend, for whom I reserve myself, I 
 should refuse to eke out this hateful existence.* What 
 am I doing in this world ? I am but a useless inhabitant 
 of it. Yet why should I suffer, since it profits nobody ? 
 But the Friend — I cannot decide to abandon him, and he 
 is necessary for his own fame ; and so long as he lives, 
 even if I have to crawl, I shall go on suffering and living. 
 Who knows what will be the end of this Man ? This Man 
 in Florence who has been ill so long a time ? He seems to 
 me to be formed of iron to destroy us. You will tell me, 
 to reassure me, that he cannot last long ; but I see matters 
 clearly. I don't suppose this last illness has given him a 
 
 * Compare Alfieri's similar sentiments expressed in the sonnet already 
 
 quoted as to his reason for not committing suicide, 
 
 9 8 
 
Separation 
 
 fresh lease of life, but I do think he can hold out very 
 easily for a year or two longer. Of course he may at any 
 moment succumb to the gout in his chest. What a 
 brutal thing it is to expect one's happiness through 
 another's death ! O God, how it degrades the soul ! 
 Yet none the less I cannot refrain from this desire. Life, 
 what a hard thing it is ! For myself it has been one long 
 bout of suffering for the last eleven years, all except the 
 two years I spent with the Friend, and even then I was 
 living in the midst of fears. And you, perhaps, are not 
 happy ; for with a heart like yours that would be an im- 
 possibility. Whoever is born with a sympathetic nature 
 can never enjoy peace. I commend the Friend, and par- 
 ticularly the Friend's health, to your keeping. My own 
 health is tolerable. I take great care, and pass much of 
 my time in bed, which seems to soothe my disturbed nerves. 
 Farewell, dear Signore Francesco. Keep your friendship 
 for me. I deserve it, because I realise its true worth." 
 
 Ill 
 
 "Dear Friend, — I am so grateful for the interest you dis- 
 play in my unhappy plight, which is indeed a terrible one. 
 Time only serves to aggravate it, nor shall I ever find any 
 relief for my sorrow, save in the presence of our Friend. 
 Neither peace nor rest can I expect. I would surrender 
 the remainder of my life to spend one whole day with him, 
 and then expire contented. My devotion to him is 
 unalterable, as is his towards myself. Who knows when 
 I shall see the ending of my trials ? Who knows if I 
 shall ever see it ? That Man does not seem likely to 
 pass away. His legs are become useless, yet he survives 
 despite his malady. You advise me not to practise on the 
 harp. But I apply myself to it, because the Friend would 
 be pleased at the idea of my playing well, and the mechani- 
 cal task I set my fingers to perform prevents me from 
 brooding over my sorrows. Not that the mere act of play- 
 ing soothes me, but that the music does me some trifling 
 
 99 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 good. I read and translate the tragedies of the Friend, 
 so far as my head permits me. Is not his second volume 
 a masterpiece ? I am deeply impressed with the 
 Agamemnon. There is an overwhelming majesty in that 
 drama. Agamemnon is indeed the king of kings. The 
 Orestes too is fine, but not equal to the Agamemnon in my 
 opinion. The Rosmunda will delight you. I do not 
 know what fault the critics will find in this trilogy of 
 plays, though no doubt envy will make them scatter abroad 
 some sharp abuse. But the Friend will revel in the fame he 
 deserves as a king of men with the soul of an ancient Greek 
 or Roman, for he can make his characters speak according 
 to nature, and not after the style of the French dramatists. 
 But you know more about these matters than I; and yet 
 who more than myself knows how to venerate the genius 
 of our Friend ? I grieve to think of his leaving you, but 
 travel is necessary to him, so I hope he will wander far 
 afield and thereby recover his health. I flatter myself 
 you will continue to give me news of him. I am deeply 
 attached to you. Your letters have caused me to realise 
 your sympathetic heart. Such a thing is rare, and rarer 
 still is a heart such as yours. My health is good, but I 
 suffer somewhat from the weakness both of nerves and 
 digestion. But that is nothing compared with the 
 anguish of my heart. I have my moments of despair, 
 when I could throw myself out of the window, did I not 
 remember that I must preserve my life for our Friend, 
 since it belongs to him. I have a fixed horror of my life, 
 which is so firmly rooted in my mind, that I ask myself 
 now and again : ' Why am I alive ? What am I doing 
 here ? ' But then the Friend's image returns to my 
 mind, and I go on enduring in patience. Oh, forgive me 
 for unburdening my thoughts to you ! You alone under- 
 stand my case, and you alone, after the Friend, realise 
 the anguish of a loving heart. Yes, you ought to come and 
 visit me this winter. It would afford me real comfort. 
 Farewell, dear Signore Francesco. Keep your friendship 
 for myself, your friend." 
 IQQ 
 
Separation 
 
 IV 
 
 " Dear Signore Francesco, friend of us both, — I do 
 my utmost to keep a brave heart. I study all I can. 
 Music alone distracts, or rather deadens my thoughts, and 
 I play daily for many hours on the harp. I am glad to do 
 so, for I know how earnestly the Friend wishes me to 
 become proficient, and therefore I apply myself to it as 
 much as possible. I only exist for his sake. Without him 
 life would be odious and unendurable. I do nothing in 
 this world. I am useless here below. Why should my 
 suffering be of no avail ? But there is the Friend, so 
 here I must remain. I believe implicitly in his love for 
 me. And yet in my transports of grief, I also grow 
 frightened lest he may find somebody who would cause 
 him less suffering than I, somebody with whom he could 
 live happy and contented. I ought to desire this end, 
 but I lack strength. Yet I trust in him to such a degree, 
 that immediately I grow pacified on remembering that 
 he has told me such a thing cannot and will not happen. 
 I love him more than myself. It is a close union of soul 
 and mind that we ourselves alone can understand. In 
 him I find every thing I can require, and he is all in all to 
 me. Nevertheless, I have to endure his absence, although 
 I feel certain that if I took one decisive step, I should be 
 the happiest woman alive. Nevermore would I think on 
 the past, for I should live in him and for him all the rest 
 of my days. 
 
 " I care for nothing in this world, neither for luxury nor 
 for position. All is vanity in my eyes. A peaceful 
 existence with him would suffice for all my needs. And 
 yet I have to languish far, far away from him. What a 
 horrible life ! I am glad to think you realise how deeply 
 the Friend loves me ; and I assure you that, after him, 
 you are the person dearest to me, believe me, dear Signore 
 Francesco. If the Friend goes to England this winter, I 
 hope you will come to see me. Your presence will prove a 
 true source of consolation to me. My health is fair. I 
 
 IOI 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 am troubled with my nerves, but that is nothing worth 
 mentioning. I commend the Friend to your care. Make 
 him attend to his health. I have derived much satis- 
 faction from the copy of the Agamemnon, which is well 
 printed on good paper. I have read it with great plea- 
 sure, the first pleasure I have felt since last May. I can 
 only allude to its style, which seems to me far more easy 
 and less laboured. Farewell, dear Signore Francesco. 
 Retain your friendship for me, as I keep mine intact for 
 you." 
 
 V 
 
 " Dear Friend, — So you will bear our Friend company 
 so far as Genoa ! How fortunate you are ! How I 
 envy you your opportunity of seeing him, whilst poor I 
 am deprived of his presence ! But you too will lose him, 
 and then, indeed, your heart will ache. For myself, it is 
 like the shadow of death to learn of his departure from 
 this land, and especially his departure from the side of so 
 devoted a friend as yourself. But on the other hand, I 
 believe this journey is essential to his well-being, so that I 
 must sacrifice my own feelings for his good, as indeed, I 
 would sacrifice my very life, if it could be of any use to 
 him, or in any degree contribute to his happiness. But 
 then I know I must guard my life for his sake, so as some 
 day to render him happy. Thus I am doing all that is 
 possible. I take exercise on horse-back. I go early to 
 bed ; I am very careful of myself. But my heart is sore 
 stricken, and I am scarcely alive, but rather drag along my 
 wretched existence, which I cannot endure much longer. 
 One way or another it must come to an end. As for 
 myself, I am ready for anything. Life is but a burden, 
 to which I am in no wise attached. Indeed, without him 
 I abhor it. I am utterly useless. What can I do ? I 
 hope all this will be changed, and that I shall yet rejoice 
 in living for our Friend, and that we three may yet some 
 day be reunited together in a land of liberty. Wish me 
 well, I pray you, for I am wholly yours ; and do not 
 102 
 
Separation 
 
 forget to charge the Friend to take care of his health, I 
 entreat you." 
 
 Whatever degree of blame the Countess of Albany may 
 have incurred by her recent deceitful conduct towards her 
 unsuspecting and generous brother-in-law, no one can 
 deny the severity of the punishment she was now under- 
 going. Torn with feelings of fear, of jealousy and of 
 hopeless devotion for her absent lover, utterly cast down 
 with womanly shame from the late humiliation she had 
 undergone in Rome, and kept by the Cardinal's injunction 
 in a state of semi-confinement, the lady must indeed have 
 spent a distressful summer in that hill-set villa near 
 Genzano, " close-latticed to the brooding heat and 
 silent in its dusty vines," where the indignant Cardinal- 
 Duke had placed her. Here this royal Mariana of the 
 South was compelled to weep and fret, pining so that her 
 beauty was visibly fading beneath the burden of her 
 sorrow. In a state of endless uncertainty, that was but a 
 shade less terrible than despair itself, the " Donna 
 Amata " of Alfieri passed those months of torment in 
 durance amid the lovely scenery of the Alban hills. We 
 can imagine her sitting the live-long day of enervating 
 heat in the close-shuttered room, employing the wingless 
 hours in playing on the harp or vainly striving to keep her 
 wandering thoughts fixed on some favourite volume of 
 abstruse learning, or perhaps reading through and 
 annotating the tragedies of " the Friend " with bitter- 
 sweet emotions.* All day long the silent house echoes 
 with the dry shrill chirrup of the cicale in the trees with- 
 out, and the great spaces of the dim rooms seem haunted 
 by the presence of the beloved one, who is never for a 
 moment absent from the inmost thoughts of the forlorn 
 lady. With a mind torn in agonies of speculation and 
 
 * See Diomede Bonamici, Tragedia d'Oreste di Psipsio, paragonata con 
 quella di Voltaire, di Psipsia. (Livoruo, 1903.) This labour of love of the 
 Countess " will appear puerile to the reader, since both spelling and syntax 
 are cynically disregarded." 
 
 I03 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 suspense as to her lover's constancy (and Alfieri's repu- 
 tation for this virtue was none of the best, as many a can- 
 did friend no doubt had often informed her), and yet 
 with the fixed determination never to distrust or suspect 
 him, the Countess dragged out the weary summer days in 
 alternate phases of hope and misery. The thought of 
 Alfieri's departure, as she tells Gori in one of her letters just 
 quoted, was like the shadow of death for her, to whom the 
 poet's presence meant life itself. To console her, she had, 
 indeed, his letters and his sonnets (the latter of which 
 she copied out carefully in a volume that is now preserved 
 in a Florentine library) ; she had the constant company 
 of " the tender and faithful " Madame de Maltzam ; and 
 when the erratic and selfish poet ceased to write and in- 
 form her of his own sorrows and movements, she had the 
 comfort of receiving letters concerning him from the 
 worthy Gori. Yet despite such truly valuable supports 
 as the kind sympathy of Madame de Maltzam and the 
 sensible advice of Gori, the continued suspense of the 
 unhappy woman must have been terrible in the extreme, 
 and when we seek to condemn her duplicity and her 
 illicit devotion to a self-centred hedonist such as Alfieri, 
 we must remember that if the sin were great, the punish- 
 ment proved almost too severe for the offence. 
 
 She rising from her bosom drew 
 
 Old letters breathing of her worth, 
 For " Love (they said) must needs be true 
 
 To what is loveliest upon earth." 
 An image seemed to pass the door, 
 
 To look at her with slight and say 
 
 " But now thy beauty flows away, 
 So be alone for evermore." . . . 
 
 But sometimes in the falling day 
 
 An image seemed to pass the door, 
 To look into her eyes and say, 
 
 " But thou shalt be alone no more." 
 And flaming downward over all 
 
 From heat to heat the day decreased, 
 
 And slowly rounded to the east 
 The one black shadow from the wall. 
 
 IO4 
 
Separation 
 
 " The day to night," she made her moan, 
 " The day to night, the night to morn, 
 
 And day and night I am left alone 
 To live forgotten and die forlorn." 
 
 So marvellously does this description apply to the actual 
 case of the harassed and love-stricken Countess of Albany 
 in the solitude of her Italian villa during the long long 
 summer months of 1783, that it would almost seem as 
 though a greater and more human poet than the rough 
 and selfish Vittorio Allien, had been moved in after years 
 to record in imperishable verse the well-deserved suffer- 
 ings of the unhappy " Donna Amata." 
 
 Compared with the anxiety and agitation endured for 
 so many months by his lady, the burden of Alfieri may 
 be reckoned light. True, he had first appeared in May at 
 Gori's hospitable house in Siena weeping and raving, but 
 Time had rapidly set to healing the wounds he had lately 
 received in Rome. Long talks at Siena with the friend 
 of his heart ; a visit to the sympathetic Abbe di Caluso at 
 the family castle of Masino near Vercelli ; complacent 
 meditations at the literary shrines of Northern Italy ; 
 the resumption of his dramatic work in order to prepare 
 his tragedies for publication in the coming autumn ; and 
 the composition of amatory poetry expressive of his late 
 emotion, were able to some extent to deaden the effects 
 of the late shock to his self-esteem and to soften a little the 
 agony of separation from his lady. His unabated passion 
 for horses also stood him in good stead at this juncture, 
 and the prospect of another visit to his beloved England 
 with the object of purchasing further additions to his 
 stud now served to distract his mind, which had taken on 
 a violent longing to quit his native land. 
 
 About the middle of October therefore, he set out 
 from Genoa, whither he had been accompanied so far by 
 Gori, and travelling by way of Antibes and Avignon pro- 
 ceeded to Paris. In the French capital, which he always 
 professed to detest cordially, the poet was a witness of the 
 historic ascent of the Mongolfier Balloon, which greatly 
 
 105 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 interested him, and is described by him as " a grand and 
 marvellous spectacle, both from the view of poetry or of 
 history, and an invention worthy of being called sublime, 
 provided there were but some chance of its being adapted 
 to fill some need of humanity." * Leaving Paris after this 
 unique experience, he crossed the Channel to reach Lon- 
 don late in the year, where he passed his time, so he tells 
 us, in unprofitable idleness and in selecting fourteen 
 horses, the exact number of the plays he had written. 
 After four months thus spent in London, he prepared to 
 return to Italy with his string of horses, and in his Vita 
 gives a graphic account of the various difficulties he him- 
 self and the farrier engaged to assist him had to overcome 
 on their journey southward. 
 
 Leaving for the moment Alfieri struggling, like 
 Hannibal, to conduct his horses across the snowy passes 
 of the Mont Cenis, let us return to the lonely and 
 disconsolate Countess. It seems from later letters of hers, 
 that Gori was able to redeem his promise of spending 
 part of the winter in Rome, which must have afforded the 
 lady some degree of pleasure, or rather some diminua- 
 tion of her abiding grief. This period is also somewhat 
 remarkable for a correspondence which had sprung up 
 between the Countess of Albany and the Countess Monica 
 Alfieri, the mother of the Friend ; a pious, simple and 
 unsuspecting old lady who was still living with her third 
 husband in the family house at Asti. Although the two 
 ladies never once met in the whole course of their existence, 
 the mother of Alfieri had from the first taken a lively 
 interest in the charming princess her idolised son was 
 supposed to have rescued from the clutches of a cruel 
 husband. Messages to and from the mother and the 
 mistress of the poet were frequently conveyed during the 
 recent two years' sojourn in Rome, and we now find the 
 Countess of Albany placed in the peculiar position of 
 supplying the anxious parent with information as to her 
 son's whereabouts. In the ensuing letter, the news 
 * Vita, vol. ii. p. 127. 
 
 I06 
 
Separation 
 
 of the death of one of the Countess Monica's grand- 
 children has evidently inspired the condoling sentences of 
 the Countess of Albany, whilst the rather cryptic allusion 
 to the possible extinction of the Alfieri family is sometimes 
 considered as a hint by the runaway wife of Charles Stuart 
 that some day in the future she herself may become the old 
 lady's daughter-in-law and perpetuate the ancient line of 
 Casa Alfieri, though the remark was certainly not accepted 
 in this sense by the unsophisticated mother of the poet. 
 
 " Le 29. . . . [The date is almost certainly November 29, 1783]. 
 
 " I have learned with much sorrow, Madame la Com- 
 tesse, from Monsieur, your son, of the loss you have sus- 
 tained. I assure you, Madame, that I have felt your grief 
 as keenly as if it had been my own. It is a terrible thing 
 to lose a beloved child ; but still, Madame, there remains 
 to you a son who loves you dearly. And though circum- 
 stances prevent him from dwelling with you, be assured 
 that he loves you no less in his absence. At present he is 
 in Paris, and he will certainly go to see you on his return 
 in the spring. If he has not already paid you a visit, it is 
 on account of the lateness of the season which has made 
 him wish to hasten his journey. But I know that before 
 his departure he has had his tragedy of Merope printed, 
 wherein, Madame, he gives you a public proof of his devo- 
 tion and respect. Rest assured that his heart is full of 
 these sentiments towards you. 
 
 " I fully understand how sad it is for you to live so far 
 from him, and how sad also has been the loss of your grand- 
 child ; it is, indeed, a hard trial which God summons you to 
 bear. But I hope, Madame, that, if circumstances change, 
 you will not see the extinction of a family to which you 
 are attached, and that you will yet find your chief source 
 of consolation in Monsieur le Comte Alfieri. ... I shall 
 sometimes give you news of the Count Alfieri. He is very 
 well, but his health required this little tour [to England] 
 after his severe exertions in finishing his tragedies. . . ." * 
 * Bernardi and Milanesi, Letter e Inedite di V. Jlfieri, p. 62. 
 
 IO7 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 In another letter, dated April 3, (1784), the Countess 
 who all her life was fond of painting portraits of her many 
 friends, alludes to a likeness of Alfieri which she had lately 
 sent to the simple old lady, who had requited this gift 
 with a present of some dried fruit. 
 
 " I am very grateful to you, Madame, for the preserves 
 you have sent me, and I am delighted to hear you were 
 pleased with the portrait. It was the likeness to him 
 that made me take the liberty of sending it you. Mon- 
 sieur, your son, was due to leave London the first day of 
 this month. He intends to travel with the horses he has 
 bought in England. You know they are his ruling 
 passion, and being in England he could not refrain from 
 buying them. . . . 
 
 " As to my husband, he is better. But I assure you, 
 Madame, I cannot be so deeply interested in him, as you 
 imagine, since during the nine years I lived with him, he 
 rendered me the most miserable creature alive. If I do 
 not actually hate him, it is due to simple Christian 
 precepts which tell us we must forgive. He drags on 
 a wretched existence deserted by all, without relatives, 
 without friends, and in the power of his servants. But 
 it is his own fault, for he never could live with anybody. 
 Forgive me, Madame, for entering with you into these 
 details, but your professed friendship for me has induced 
 me to speak plainly to you. Pray rest assured of my 
 gratitude for the interest you take in my welfare, &c. &c." * 
 
 This uncompromising reply to the Countess Monica's 
 inopportune inquiry as to the health, temporal and 
 spiritual, of Madame d'Albany's husband is almost con- 
 temporary with a letter of the Countess to the Cardinal of 
 York (to whom she was still inditing letters full of a gushing 
 but wholly insincere affection), announcing the successful 
 issue of a series of negociations for a legal separation from 
 Charles-Edward, which had been pending throughout the 
 early spring months, and in which the lady doubtless 
 * Ibidem, pp. 63, 64. 
 
 108 
 
Separation 
 
 found the most efficacious of remedies for her late love- 
 sickness. The prospect of obtaining even her partial 
 liberty was, indeed, a hopeful outlook, so that the Coun- 
 tess wrote in the most coaxing terms to her brother-in- 
 law, whose consent and approval thereto she was naturally 
 most eager to secure. The fact is that during the past 
 winter, King Gustavus III. of Sweden, travelling in Italy 
 under the name of Count Haga, had become intimate 
 with the derelict Chevalier at Florence, and had promised 
 him more financial support after hearing the pitiful, though 
 greatly exaggerated, complaints of his poverty. This, 
 however, the King, after first consulting with the Coun- 
 tess of Albany and Cardinal de Bernis in Rome, only 
 undertook to obtain on condition that the prince agreed 
 to settle his conjugal difficulties on the reasonable basis 
 of a legal separation a mensd et thoro ; and by pushing 
 forward this scheme the good-natured monarch conceived 
 he was doing a real service to each of the ill-mated pair. 
 Charles Stuart had by this time presumably given up all 
 hope of ever recovering possession of his erring wife, or 
 even of ever persuading the Cardinal of York to assist him 
 to that end ; consequently, though loth to loosen the 
 matrimonial bonds of his hated consort, for the sake of 
 the increased income promised on certain conditions by 
 the Swedish king, he now gave a grudging consent to his 
 proposals. Roughly speaking, the terms of this instru- 
 ment were to include the total renunciation by the wife 
 of any income from the Royal Stuarts during her husband's 
 lifetime, although she was at once to receive the annual 
 pension of 60,000 livres, which had been settled on Charles- 
 Edward's bride, and not on himself, at the time of the 
 marriage in 1772.* In this manner, the lady would not 
 truly, as Sir Horace Mann admitted, for the present 
 
 * Le Livre Rouge (Paris, Baudouin, 1790), the book of the official entries 
 of the pensions granted by the French court, particularly emphasises this 
 point, namely, that the subsidy was the personal property of the wife and 
 not of her husband, though apparently it was paid over to the latter. — 
 H By royal decree of September 1, 1776, there was conferred on the Countess 
 
 IO9 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 " receive a shilling from the Stuart family, and was only to 
 receive a jointure of 6,000 crowns after her husband's 
 death, a poor equivalent for what she had lost." * Charles 
 himself at first made strong representations to the King 
 of Sweden against his liberated wife being permitted to 
 bear his name ; and it is a curious coincidence that the 
 pair, whether by accident or by design, henceforth spell 
 their assumed title in different forms, the Countess as 
 Albany, and her husband as Albanie. 
 
 So important but melancholy an event as the separa- 
 tion from his absent spouse gave occasion to the 
 unhappy Stuart prince to draw up another of those 
 semi-royal manifestoes which he loved to compose in the 
 grandiose language of a real reigning monarch and to seal 
 with the Royal arms of Britain ; and thus run the terms 
 of the mandate admitting his consort's power to live 
 apart from himself — 
 
 " We, Charles, legitimate King of Great Britain, on 
 the representations made to Us by Louise-Caroline- 
 Maximilienne-Emmanuele, Princess of Stolberg, that for 
 sound reasons she wished to reside at a distance separated 
 from Our person ; that circumstances as well as Our 
 common misfortunes have rendered this event useful and 
 necessary for Us both ; and in consideration of all the 
 arguments she has adduced to Us, We declare by these 
 presents that We freely and voluntarily give Our consent 
 to this separation, and that We do permit her to live from 
 henceforth in Rome, or in any town she may consider 
 most convenient, such being Our pleasure. Given and 
 sealed with the seal of Our arms in Our Palace at Florence, 
 April 3, 1784." 
 
 And at the base of this imposing document is added a 
 final sentence in the poor King's crabbed penmanship : 
 
 the sum of 60,000 lire, paid in that month, which seems to have been con- 
 tinued indefinitely till the fall of the French monarchy. Charles-Edward's 
 payment only dates from February 1785, and was 30,000 lire." (Mazza- 
 tinti, Le Carte Alfieriane. Giornale Storico, vol. iii. pp. 47, 48.) 
 * Mann and Manners, vol. ii. p. 409. 
 
 I 10 
 
Separation 
 
 " We approve the writing and all contained therein. 
 C. R." * 
 
 It was on the receipt of this welcome capitulation of 
 her husband in his attitude of opposition that the Coun- 
 tess wrote off in high glee to her brother-in-law at 
 Frascati the following letter. 
 
 " Wednesday, April 7, [1784]. 
 
 " My dear Brother, — I have not been able to speak 
 to you sooner of a project for a separation that the King of 
 Sweden has proposed for my husband and myself. I 
 lend myself the more readily to it, as I hope thereby to 
 prove that I am very far from seizing on the fortune of your 
 Brother, as he declares, and it is without any regret that I 
 now restore him not only the 1000 ecus that you pay me, 
 but also the 3000 which by my marriage settlement 
 constitute my own pin-money. And I agree equally 
 that he shall take back his diamonds from Rome. It is a 
 sacrifice I should have made long ago, had I not considered 
 that my honour required for the present and the future 
 for me to keep this pension, as a positive proof that in 
 leaving my husband I had the approval of those whose 
 opinion was precious to me. I have, therefore, declined 
 to surrender my claims except under an arrangement with 
 him that shows we are living apart by mutual consent. 
 The King of Sweden has undertaken the task, and I am 
 completely in his hands with regard to all my interests, 
 while he is kind enough to act both as a friend and as a rela- 
 tion. To my great surprise Stuart t has this very morning 
 brought me the agreement signed, and it is now once 
 more in the possession of the King of Sweden. As soon 
 as I get it, I shall inform you of its contents, being certain, 
 my very dear Brother, that you will rejoice with me 
 that I am at last at the end of my difficulties with my 
 
 * Hist. MSS. Commission Reports. Tenth Report, Appendix, part vi. 
 P-235- 
 
 t John Stuart, the Chevalier's trusted Major-domo at Florence, to whom 
 his royal master left a legacy, 
 
 I I I 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Husband, and that he himself is finally quit of his finan- 
 cial embarrassments which I believe are genuine, since 
 Stuart says so. I feel, therefore, some pride in helping 
 him, and in surrendering my additional money in order 
 to procure him the necessary income. May Heaven 
 grant him some measure of repose and content in his old 
 age ! And may you, my very dear Brother, be per- 
 suaded that my expressions of gratitude and affection 
 towards yourself are as unalterable as is the sincere 
 attachment wherewith 
 
 "I am, Your affectionate Sister, 
 
 " Louise. 
 
 " Allow me, my dear Brother, to wish you les bonnes 
 fetes de Pdques, and a thousand good things ! " * 
 
 This optimistic letter, however, failed to prove accept- 
 able to the Cardinal-Duke, who, besides being shocked 
 at the idea of any legal separation, also resented the 
 financial arrangements which were being made without 
 his previous consent between the pair, imagining, rightly 
 or wrongly, that the income which the Countess offered 
 to restore to her husband was his own property and 
 neither that of the lady to bestow nor of Charles to 
 accept. A testy and ungracious reply was therefore 
 despatched to the anxious Countess of Albany, who 
 must have felt greatly exasperated at this unforeseen 
 check to the smooth procedure of these negotiations, 
 which meant ultimate freedom for herself. 
 
 " My very dear Sister, — I am so busy these days, 
 that I have scarcely the time to reply to your letter, and 
 therefore I confine myself to assuring you that nobody 
 in the world ought to desire a settlement between your- 
 self and your husband more than I ; but I can never 
 approve of a separation, whose sole aim is interest. 
 
 " I cannot, and ought not, to interfere in any arrange- 
 ments you two may devise together, but I bid you re- 
 member that everything you have received from Cantini 
 # British Museum. Add MSS. 34, 634, /. 63. 
 
 112 
 
Separation 
 
 (my steward) since you have resided in my palace of the 
 Cancellaria has come from myself ;l£and that the.^said 
 Cantini has my orders to pay it to^you so long as you 
 live with me. It is a piece of insolence therefore on 
 my brother's part, this disposing of money which is 
 mine, as though it were his own, and without my know- 
 ledge, so that I feel compelled to acquaint him with 
 my own opinion of his conduct in the matter. And 
 I beg you once for all, my very dear Sister, not to annoy 
 me further on this point, for really it quite upsets my 
 health, to have my brother expecting me to carry out 
 every scheme that comes into his head, by force of abuse 
 and without any acknowledgment of his obligation. 
 " I wish you a very happy Easter, my very dear Sister." * 
 
 Though not actually daring to retort in a spirit of 
 annoyance to this very unsatisfactory answer to her letter, 
 the Countess strove to argue and reason with her obstinate 
 brother-in-law, setting forth the advantages her decrepit 
 husband would reap from the already half-completed 
 settlement between the pair. How far these kindly 
 and considerate sentiments with regard to her husband's 
 future welfare were prompted by her own intense longing 
 for independence or by a genuine wish to see his financial 
 position improved, we leave to the reader to decide after 
 what has already been written on this point. 
 
 " My dear Brother, — I hasten to send you an exact 
 copy of the mutual arrangement concerning our separa- 
 tion, which is based solely on the conviction we both 
 hold as to the impossibility of living together, owing to 
 our incompatibility of temper, and with the example 
 before us of other persons no less distinguished than 
 my Husband and myself, who have been placed in similar 
 circumstances. You see now that your unhappy Brother 
 is only obeying reason and not interest (as you suggest) ; 
 
 * British Museum. Add MSS. 34, 634, /. 65. This letter is marked 
 and dated, " Letter of Reply of H.R.H. to Madame, his Sister-in-law, written 
 Friday, April 9, 1784." 
 
 H II 3 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 and that he is not dealing with what is yours* since it is 
 of my own motion and with full knowledge of his needs 
 that I surrender back to him what he promised me for 
 my pin-money and you told me should be paid me here 
 in Rome. 
 
 " I repeat, it is a sacrifice that I am making, and one 
 which I believe I ought to have made earlier save for 
 certain objections. Be assured, my Brother, the King 
 is in need, and I should feel ashamed not to aid him. 
 Stuart will be able to tell you that during his last illness 
 he had not the wherewithal to pay for the Masses said 
 on his behalf, and when Stuart wrote to you, there was 
 but six sequins in the house. I assure you, my Brother, 
 that without the pension from the Apostolic Chamber 
 in addition to the fifty thousand livres from France 
 he cannot possibly exist. I used to imagine he was 
 hoarding, but I have examined the bankers' accounts, 
 and I have seen that he was speaking the truth, so that 
 I felt myself bound to assist him. You know, my dear 
 Brother, that I thought the same thing, when you sug- 
 gested to me to keep the diamonds over which I have 
 certain claims (all except the large stones you possess 
 equally with your brother). But I never could have 
 done a thing which would have made everybody exclaim, 
 and being bound in conscience and in honour I cannot 
 refuse him his request any more than can you yourself. 
 How is it possible, my dear Brother, that with your 
 gentle heart and with your ingrained sense of justice 
 and integrity, you cannot realise it is better for us to 
 be separated on proper terms ? Have you no satisfaction 
 in my generosity towards your Brother (seeing that it 
 is a proof of my own forgiveness of his evil conduct 
 towards myself), or in my efforts to render him happy, 
 by surrendering this money ? It is an excess of attention 
 on my part to have informed you at all, for you would 
 never have found it out ; and is it not better for him 
 to live comfortably during the brief remainder of his 
 life, and for you to be left in peace, and myself also ? 
 114 
 
Separation 
 
 What need then to irritate him by writing to tell him 
 that he is disposing of your money, since it is I who am 
 dealing with my own property and am bestowing it of 
 my own free will ? 
 
 " Farewell, my dear Brother, I beg you to be convinced 
 of my tender attachment, which I shall always preserve. 
 
 " Louise Your Sister. 
 
 " I beg of you to return the copy I am sending you. 
 Tuesday Morning." * 
 
 The captious opposition of the Cardinal was eventually 
 frustrated by the tactful intervention of King Gustavus, 
 whose letter to the grateful Countess of Albany shows 
 that the legal separation was already well on the way 
 to completion early in the summer of 1784. 
 
 "Paris, June 13, 1784. 
 
 " Madame la Comtesse, — I have just received on my 
 arrival in Paris the letter you have kindly addressed me 
 from Rome, and I was greatly pleased with your gift 
 of the rare and interesting medals struck at the time of 
 your wedding. I shall deem myself happy, if I have 
 been of any service in softening your lot. I consider 
 you can rest quite easy, Madame, as to your brother-in- 
 law's attitude in this affair. Matters are now well 
 advanced, and they cannot be put back. I shall not 
 cease my own efforts to uphold the terms of separation 
 I have already drawn up, but I believe all is well, and 
 financial arrangements are alone likely to cause any 
 trouble. I also expect that the Cardinal-Duke's visit 
 to Florence will only result in increasing the bitterness 
 of feeling between the two brothers. I trust the waters 
 [of Baden] will benefit your health, and I look forward 
 to our next meeting, when I hope to prove to you the 
 
 * British Museum. Add MSS. 34, 634, /. 67. 
 
 "5 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 warm friendship wherewith I have the honour to be, 
 Madame la Comtesse, your good friend, 
 
 " GUSTAVUS." * 
 
 This cordial letter from the Swedish king may be said 
 to mark the final stage in these negotiations, which were 
 now sufficiently advanced to allow of the Countess of 
 Albany being considered free from all marital control 
 before the summer of 1784, almost exactly the inauspicious 
 anniversary of Alfieri's expulsion from Rome. 
 
 * Reumont, dppendix, pp. 206, 207. 
 
 116 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 REUNION 
 
 " Giunto il di 16 Agosto presso la Mia Donna, due mesein circa 
 mi vi sfuggirono quasi un baleno." 
 
 Vita di V. Alfieri, vol. ii. p. 148 
 
 Thus formally released from the galling tie that bound 
 her to the husband that she loathed, the Countess now 
 requested permission to leave Papal territory for a season, 
 in order to spend a portion of the summer at the baths 
 of Baden, in Switzerland, since her health had been 
 gravely impaired by her late anxiety and agitation. The 
 Pope gave the necessary consent without demur, so that 
 the Countess was travelling northward by way of Bologna 
 towards her destination in June, in which month Alfieri 
 was slowly traversing the Lombard plains with his string 
 of recently purchased English horses, fourteen in all, on 
 the road to Siena. Overjoyed at the unexpected news 
 of his lady's legal release from her tyrant, he was sore 
 tempted, so he tells us, to abandon his cavalcade and to 
 pursue the Countess towards her goal, but prudence 
 happily prevented his carrying out so rash a project, 
 which would at once have made people put the worst 
 construction on their well-known friendship. Alfieri 
 therefore continued his course towards Siena, where he 
 was warmly welcomed by the delighted Gori, by Teresa 
 Mocenni, by Mario Bianchi, by the Arch-priest Luti, and 
 by the other members of the crochiette saporito. But 
 to remain long at Siena, whilst his lady, just escaped from 
 her late prison of the Eternal City, was equally longing 
 for a meeting, seemed unendurable to the impatient 
 
 117 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 poet. Already, no doubt, subtle plans were being laid 
 both at Siena and at Baden for a meeting that might 
 be kept a most profound secret, and in those distant 
 days, when the world was not blessed with journalistic 
 spies, railways or telegraph wires, the success of such an 
 arrangement was well within the range of the practical. 
 It was evidently the astute Madame de Maltzam who 
 came to the rescue of the perplexed and still separated 
 pair of lovers, with her ingenious suggestion that the 
 Countess should retire to her family castle of Martins- 
 burg near Colmar on the Rhine, whither Alfieri could in 
 due course of time proceed to visit her without anybody 
 being the wiser. The necessary preliminaries and 
 precautions were taken ; the Countess moved from 
 Baden to Colmar ; and a little later Alfieri, leaving his 
 whole stud behind at Siena in charge of the lortg-suffering 
 Gori, set off with haste all alone, reaching Colmar on 
 August l6 x after twelve days of rapid travelling. " Here," 
 so he records, " I found at last Her whom I had ever 
 been calling and seeking ; Her of whom I had been bereft 
 fbr the last sixteen months " ; # and again, in a marginal 
 note to one of his poems, he alludes to this joyful reunion 
 of " Psipsio and Psipsia " after an enforced interval of 
 tears and anxiety : " On the seventeenth day of August, 
 1784, at eight in the morning, at the inn of the Two 
 Keys, in Colmar, I met Her and fell speechless from 
 plenitude of my joy."t 
 
 Two months were spent in this hidden retreat of 
 Martinsburg, which for the next few years enters largely 
 into the life of this celebrated pair of lovers, and will 
 therefore be described later. Here Alfieri, recovering 
 his spirits and his poetical fervour in the close presence 
 of his " Donna Amata," once more set to the task of 
 writing or revising his tragedies, so that under these 
 present happy auspices were begun the dramas of Agis, 
 Sophonisba, and Myrrha, the last-named being considered 
 by some critics one of the finest of his works. This 
 * Fita, vol. ii. p. 147. t Vernon Lee, p. 134. 
 
 118 
 
Reunion 
 
 stolen period of perfect bliss was, however, doomed to 
 sudden interruption from an unexpected quarter. 
 Scarcely had Alfieri and the Countess settled down to 
 their peaceful life of unclouded happiness, than the 
 news came from Siena first of the illness and then the 
 death of their beloved friend, Francesco Gori, who 
 expired on September 3, at the age of forty-six. This 
 sad event, which was duly announced to the poet by 
 Mario Bianchi, came as a crushing blow to the lovers 
 in the midst of their mutual ecstasy. Alfieri, always 
 emotional and unbalanced, was of course absolutely 
 overwhelmed with sorrow, and in his Autobiography 
 he speaks of the support afforded him in his grief by the 
 consoling presence of his Lady. Writing to Bianchi, 
 who henceforth steps to a great extent into the void 
 caused by Gori's death, he thus describes his sensations : 
 
 " O God, I know not what to say or to do ! I ever 
 seem to see him and hear him, and I talk with him, and 
 each smallest word or thought or act of his returns to 
 my mind, and gives me continual throbs of pain in my 
 heart. I have lost something I can never find again — 
 a true, good, upright, unselfish and devoted friend. 
 This treacherous world does not produce such things, 
 ancpl do not look for them. . . . 
 
 " The Person who is dearest to me (after whom came 
 easily our ' Checco ') knew and understood him, and she 
 too is inconsolable at such a loss." * 
 
 This meeting, near Colmar, which had been brought 
 about apparently through the good offices of Madame 
 de Maltzam, was, as we have already said, of a clandestine 
 nature, being utterly unknown to everybody with the 
 exception of Gori (now dead) and of one other friend, 
 the Chevalier Mario Bianchi, who had probably been 
 made acquainted with this circumstance by the devoted 
 " Checco " on his death-bed. A postscript to the letter 
 we have just quoted is therefore highly illuminating 
 * Letters Inedite di V. Alfieri, p. 118. 
 
 II 9 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 in connection with this attitude of strict secrecy, which 
 was, of course, intended to preserve the lady's name 
 from further scandal. " It is needless," writes the poet, 
 " to remind either you or Teresa [Mocenni] not to give 
 the smallest hint as to my whereabouts. However, if 
 the fact of my writing to you is ever mentioned, you 
 can always say my letters came from a villa near Venice."* 5 
 
 And again, in the next letter, Alfieri reiterates his 
 warning, telling Mario to salute the Arch-priest Luti 
 warmly, but on no account to give him the address. 
 Later, in the following summer, he reminds his corre- 
 spondent of his full direction at Colmar, bidding him 
 send all letters " a Madame la Baronne de Maltzam, 
 chanoinesse de Mijet, a Colmar, en Alsace." 
 
 Together then the pair of mourners for Francesco 
 Gori mingled their tears, and henceforward found but 
 a chastened pleasure in the six remaining weeks of their 
 residence in pleasant Martinsburg, which for the sake 
 of enhanced prudence was brought to a close about the 
 middle of October. 
 
 From Colmar the pair proceeded southward by different 
 routes ; Alfieri travelling towards Siena, which he found 
 a desert without the presence of his beloved Gori and 
 soon exchanged for Pisa ; whilst the Countess made her 
 way towards Bologna through Piedmont. On her way 
 thither she apparently made an effort to pay a visit to 
 Alfieri's mother, the old Countess Monica, at Asti ; 
 butfaccording to her own account (and there is no reason 
 to doubt her statement) the country roads were so heavy 
 and impeded after the late autumnal rains, that she could 
 obtain no coach in Turin for the purpose and had there- 
 fore reluctantly to abandon her project. Nevertheless, 
 it does not appear that the Countess made any further 
 attempt to visit the old lady. At the end of November 
 the Countess of Albany was staying at Genoa, whence 
 she wrote one of her many letters of pseudo-affection 
 to the Cardinal of York, whom she presumed to be 
 * Lettere Inedite, p. 118. 
 
 120 
 
Reunion 
 
 wholly ignorant of her late carefully contrived escapade 
 at Colmar, and was still most anxious to humour. The 
 letter, which is important only as showing the farce of 
 sisterly affection being still vigorously enacted, contains 
 the usual terms of flattery as well as some sharp remarks 
 about " the King " in Florence, who had recently 
 received in his house Charlotte Stuart, the natural 
 daughter that he had repulsed so unfeelingly ten years 
 before in Rome. 
 
 " Genoa, December I, 1784. 
 " My dear Brother,— I have received your letter 
 from Turin. I am well aware of the proofs of affection 
 you gave me, and I shall always try to merit them. I 
 know your heart well, and your kind thoughts, of which 
 you have afforded me proofs on many occasions. As to 
 your Brother, nothing surprises me in his behaviour. I 
 know him so well, that I consider him capable of going to 
 any length of absurdity. I was cognisant of all his late 
 nonsense in Florence, and surrounded by Irish friends 
 he will go on thus, and even make these people baronets. 
 I assure you, my dear Brother, that it will only be with 
 his last breath that he will cease to commit follies. I 
 am about to leave for Bologna, the fourth day of this 
 month. I expect to remain some time with my old 
 friend, the Princess Lambertini. I hope, my dear 
 Brother, that your health is good. I have met the 
 Marchese Grimaldi here, who is grown fatter and more 
 youthful. Monsignore Codronchi at Turin did me 
 many services. He is a good creature. Farewell, my 
 dear Brother. Receive assurance of the affection I 
 bear to you for life, but which I cannot express as well 
 as I could wish. 
 
 " Your affectionate Sister, 
 
 " Louise."* 
 
 In deciding to spend the winter at Bologna the Countess 
 was able to keep within the allotted limits of the terms 
 * British Museum. Add MSS. 34, 634, /. 68. 
 
 121 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of her legal separation, which permitted her to reside 
 only in Papal territory, so that she was thus able to avoid 
 Rome with its unpleasant recollections of the past and 
 its many tattling tongues ; also, in all probability she 
 was most anxious to elude the vigilance of the Cardinal 
 of York, or rather of his surrounding host of spying 
 friends and sycophants. In addition to these advantages, 
 she was comparatively near to Alfieri at Pisa, so that 
 twice a week letters passed regularly between the pair, 
 " again torn asunder, and yet near neighbours," as the 
 latter expresses it ; adding that this situation was at 
 once a source of consolation and of martyrdom to him. 
 The Countess meanwhile remained the whole of the 
 following five months in the house of her friend, some 
 eleven years older than herself, Donna Mariana Lam- 
 bertini,* nee Nobili of Lucca, who had been married 
 ten years before to Prince Giovanni Lambertini, a great- 
 nephew of Pope Benedict XIV. The Cardinal-Duke, 
 still blissfully ignorant of the late meeting near Colmar, 
 was probably satisfied with his sister-in-law's residence 
 in so correct a household, for he seems to have corre- 
 sponded occasionally with her throughout this winter 
 on friendly terms. The following letter commenting 
 on the bestowal of the Order of St. Andrew on his 
 daughter Charlotte, seems to be the last in point of date 
 that has been preserved of all her letters to the Cardinal : 
 
 " Bologna, December 24, 1784. 
 " . . . I am quite comfortable in this place. I am 
 staying with the Princess Lambertini, of whom I am 
 very fond and whom I am helping to divert in her present 
 situation, for she has just been brought to bed. Her 
 husband is full of attentions towards myself, and antici- 
 pates my wishes, as does also the Cardinal-Legate, whom 
 
 * Not to be confused with Donna Giulia Lambertini-Bovio, in whose 
 house died Charlotte Stuart, Duchess of Albany, in 1789, and some of whose 
 letters to Cardinal York are included in The Last of the Royal Stuarts, 
 pp. 187, 188. 
 
 122 
 
Reunion 
 
 I see daily. The Casa Angelelli has done every service 
 possible for me. I suffered a good deal from the cold 
 on my journey hither, and I greatly dread the passage 
 over the mountains on account of the snow, which is 
 very deep. The King continues to do a thousand 
 absurdities in Florence, although he can scarcely move 
 from one room to another by reason of his swollen legs. 
 His illness does not, however, prevent him from bestow- 
 ing the Order of St. Andrew at the end of a banquet 
 on his Daughter and on a certain Lord who attends him. 
 It is all very ridiculous. Farewell, my dear Brother. 
 Keep well, I beg you, and retain your kindness and affec- 
 tion for me, and rest assured of my lasting attachment 
 to yourself. 
 
 " Your affectionate Sister, 
 
 " Louise."* 
 
 Throughout the whole of the opening months of 1785 
 a most active and regular correspondence was proceeding 
 between the Countess at Bologna and Alfieri at Pisa. 
 Not a single line of a single letter has, however, survived, 
 and we are therefore left wholly in the daik as to the 
 ideas and suggestions thus exchanged. Fortunately, 
 on the other hand, we possess a clear account of Alfieri's 
 life at Pisa drawn from his many letters addressed jointly 
 to Mario Bianchi and his mistress Teresa Mocenni, who 
 equally shared the poet's confidence. To Mario and 
 Teresa he often complains of the monotony of his daily 
 existence and of the hardship of separation from his 
 lady ; he admits his own morose and moody tempera- 
 ment ; and mentions his determination in future never 
 to discuss literature with a soul of his acquaintance : 
 " I have decided nevermore to talk of books or letters 
 on any consideration ; and to anybody that engages 
 me upon the Muses, I shall reply by discussing horse- 
 flesh." 
 
 As the season advances and the days grow longer and 
 * British Museum. Add MSS. 34, 634, /. 70. 
 
 123 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 warmer, Alfieri supplies his friends at Siena with detailed 
 accounts of his daily occupations, which serve well to 
 illustrate the eccentric, self-centred nature of the famous 
 Italian dramatist, who at this period lived solely in himself 
 and for himself, caring little for the feelings of those 
 around him, but rather enjoying his reputation for 
 aloofness among the people of Pisa, and loving to be 
 noticed and pointed out by all as the great Count Vittorio 
 Alfieri of Cortemilia, Italy's patriotic tragedian. 
 
 " I take exercise here on the fine broad roads, whereon 
 I spend all the time I am not actually at table or in bed. 
 What a charming existence ! And thus engaged you 
 will find me, despite all my late sorrows and anxious 
 moments. But now I breathe again, and in the mornings 
 I have once more started to read in bed. I study Pliny' } s 
 Letters and peruse Ariosto a little. I go out riding with 
 a copy of Petrarch in my pocket, and thus am I restoring 
 my mental equilibrium by slow degrees. . . . 
 
 " I ride fifteen or twenty miles daily, after which I 
 return to my lodging, for I am a man, or rather (to speak 
 truth) a creature of habits which I cannot break without 
 doing myself great violence. I should like to be with 
 you two at Siena, but I cannot leave my horses behind 
 me here ; indeed, they constitute my one and special 
 care, and now that I ride so much more, I am fonder 
 
 of them than ever. My friend the Cavalier and 
 
 myself ride out each morning, and drive in the afternoon. 
 Sometimes we visit the theatre and occasionally go to 
 see an invalid friend at the baths of San Giuliano, whilst 
 during the course of the day I manage to sleep a good 
 deal, read a little, and revise my dramas. ... I often 
 think on ' Checco ' during my morning ride, saying to 
 myself, ' This place, this city, this river would delight 
 him ' ; and then I weep, and read out of the volume of 
 Petrarch which I alwaysjkeep in my pocket. Then I 
 think on my Lady, and again I fall to weeping ; and 
 thus do I live my life and long for death, deploring I 
 124 
 
Reunion 
 
 have no reason for committing suicide. Thus in the midst 
 of this dismal but not desperate state of affairs do I feel 
 my soul dead and my heart buried, and I no longer 
 recognise my true self. Such I am at present ; perhaps 
 I shall change later, in the event of which I shall inform 
 you. I should be only too pleased to distract my thoughts 
 with your company, but I have not sufficient energy to 
 start upon the road to Siena." * 
 
 The allusions contained herein to an unhappy frame 
 of mind and to anxieties of a private nature, such as he 
 can only hint at to his friend Mario Bianchi, are connected 
 with a curious and sinister incident, which is not 
 mentioned in the Vita. Alfieri's Autobiography, in 
 fact, whatever may be said of its veracity as a whole, 
 is certainly not guiltless of that convenient elimination 
 of disagreeable facts which the lawyers have designated 
 suppress™ veri. The truth is, that these months at Pisa 
 were passed in a state of great suspense by the poet, 
 and also presumably by the Countess, although we can 
 only judge of her feelings and position from the existing 
 letters of Alfieri to Bianchi. A new and unexpected 
 source of danger and exposure had all at once appeared, 
 and to explain it we must return for a moment to the 
 earlier years of the poet's life. 
 
 From the age of sixteen Vittorio Alfieri had always 
 been attended by a valet named Elia, a faithful and 
 obliging servant through all his wanderings and early 
 adventures, whose name is frequently mentioned by 
 his master in the first half of the Autobiography. For 
 many years Elia had endured with good-natured resigna- 
 tion the sharp tongue and even the personal violence 
 of his erratic master, who on one occasion had almost 
 killed the unfortunate valet, by a terrific blow on the 
 temple with a silver candlestick, for accidentally pulling 
 his hair whilst dressing it before the mirror. The man 
 nearly succumbed from the shock and loss of blood, but 
 * Lettere IntdiU, 0-p. CiU 
 
 I2 5 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 his devotion to his hasty master was such that he declined 
 to leave his service, and merely revenged himself by 
 keeping ever in his pocket the blood-stained bandage 
 that covered his broken head, and this he was wont to 
 dangle before Alfieri's eyes whenever the Count again 
 showed signs of giving way to his ungovernable temper. 
 Alfieri, as well he might, placed full confidence in the 
 discretion and attachment of such a domestic treasure, 
 and consequently when he came to dwell at the Villa 
 Strozzi, in Rome, he invited Elia to join the household 
 of the Countess of Albany, with the evident object of 
 his acting as a confidential messenger between himself 
 and his lady. In this manner therefore Elia must have 
 become closely acquainted with every move and inter- 
 view of the pair ; he was doubtless present during the 
 stolen meeting at Colmar ; and his knowledge of the 
 risk run by the Countess in thus deceiving the Papal 
 authorities and in breaking the spirit of the terms of her 
 late legal compact with her husband must have made 
 it all-important to keep this witness both contented and 
 silent. 
 
 Nevertheless, for causes which it is impossible to 
 discover at this distance of time, the Countess actually 
 dismissed this man from her service in the spring of 
 1785, and sent him back to his original master, although 
 at the same time allowing him a small annual pension 
 of 400 livres. The following letter, addressed by Alfieri 
 to his sister, the Comtessa Giulia di Cumiana, at Turin, 
 throws a good deal of light on the late conduct of the 
 once highly valued Elia, and it also shows us the firm 
 and drastic manner in which Alfieri could meet with 
 and overcome an exceedingly dangerous and disagreeable 
 antagonist ; for there can be little doubt that Elia had 
 attempted to blackmail the Countess, who must have 
 offered her servant this bribe of an annuity for life in 
 order to induce him to leave Bologna and to re-enter 
 the service of his former master, as being more competent 
 to deal successfully with so troublesome a fellow. It 
 T26 
 
Reunion 
 
 is an ugly incident, and one that is very little known, 
 but it finds its echo many years afterwards in some sweep- 
 ing remarks of the Countess to Teresa Mocenni about 
 Italian men-servants in general : " It is your Christian 
 charity," so she writes to Madame Mocenni, " that 
 prevents you from distrusting men-servants. As to 
 myself, I am less Christian, for I hold it for a maxim 
 that every servant is a thief, and I act on that principle. 
 This class of human beings is utterly vile, and is ever 
 at perpetual war with us. They are always seeking to 
 injure us, and we must be ever on our guard against 
 them." 
 
 It was undoubtedly the Countess' unpleasant expe- 
 riences about Elia which prompted these sentiments, 
 as will be gathered from the contents of the letter from 
 Alfieri to his sister, which has already been mentioned. 
 
 Elia finally leaves to-day for Turin, and will arrive 
 there directly. I must now tell you, and with the 
 deepest regret, that I have been deceived in this man 
 for over twenty years, and for these last four years, 
 during which time I have placed him in the service of 
 the Countess of Albany, I have clear evidence to convince 
 me that he is not only a thief, but also that he has every 
 vice whereof a man is capable. He is inquisitive, un- 
 truthful, impertinent, blustering and babbling. Being 
 such, the Signora Countess was compelled to dismiss 
 him this summer before setting out on her travels. He 
 was sent to me, and I should have made no objection 
 to retaining him, had he chosen to stay quietly in my 
 house. But in spite of repeated warnings, he has never 
 ceased from pestering the Signora with letter after 
 letter, each one more impertinent in tone, in order to 
 induce her to receive him back into her service. Beside 
 ijthis, he has caused mischief in my small household by 
 abusing me ; and, worst of all, seeing the Signora is 
 determined not to take him back, he has had the impu- 
 lence to speak ill of her both in the cafes and in my own 
 
 127 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 house, saying things that are partly true, and (needless 
 to say) partly false, invented, and absolutely astounding. 
 
 " This behaviour, which renders him equally noisy, 
 indiscreet, ungrateful and rascally, has decided me to 
 send him back to Turin, so that he may nevermore set 
 foot outside it. Out of kindness, however, and so as 
 to put him still more in the wrong, and also on account 
 of his long and faithful service on my former travels, I 
 have decided to leave intact his pension of iooo lire, 
 which I assigned to him at the time of my donation to 
 yourself, and which he then deserved though he deserves 
 no longer. So also the Signora, for the four years he 
 has remained in her service, is willing to allow him an 
 annuity of 400 lire. But neither of these pensions will 
 he obtain save under the following conditions, which 
 Elia has signed and which I keep beside me. These 
 are as follows : he is never to leave Piedmont, or indeed 
 Turin itself ; and never to write either to the Signora, 
 or to myself, or to any member of our households. 
 Besides, he is to understand clearly he is never to speak 
 either well or ill, to any person or in any way, of the 
 Signora, who rewards him beyond his merits and now 
 deeply regrets having made him such a gift. As to his 
 mentioning myself, he can say what he pleases ; but I 
 shall not permit any remarks about the Signora, and I 
 beg you to warn me at once of the slightest whisper. I 
 have also written in the same strain to the Abbe [di 
 Caluso] and to Damiano, who will know how to deal 
 promptly with the difficulty."* 
 
 The wretched and cowed Elia dared not apparently 
 defy the wrath or vengeance of his former master, for 
 we find him still drawing his pensions, presumably on 
 the conditions laid down, in the year 1793, when Alfieri, 
 on account of his financial losses from the French Revolu- 
 tion, suddenly cut down his old servant's allowance from 
 1400 lire to 400. " You will do me a service," so he 
 * Bertana, pp. 21 1-2 13. 
 
 128 
 
Reunion 
 
 again writes to his sister in October 1793, " by making 
 Elia understand he is never to write to me ; nor to pester 
 others ; because my mind is absolutely made up ; and 
 that if he annoys me, I shall never again pay him more 
 than the 400 lire. If things change for the better in 
 course of time, and if it be possible, I shall resume giving 
 him the extra 1000 lire. . . ." * 
 
 Elia's dismissal is also noted elsewhere, for Charlotte 
 Stuart, recently created Duchess of Albany, describes 
 the circumstance to her father's brother, the Cardinal, 
 whom she was then engaged in doing all in her power 
 to conciliate. This ambitious young woman, after years 
 of neglect, was being now petted and adored by her 
 father, who had even gone so far as to declare her legiti- 
 mate, much to the annoyance of Henry Stuart. Being 
 most anxious to reconcile the two brothers, for this 
 purpose she was actively trying to persuade the reluctant 
 Henry of the guilt of the Countess of Albany. On 
 June 4 she therefore addressed to the Cardinal, whom 
 she had not yet met, the following letter, evidently 
 inspired by an intense malignity in the writer, who, 
 as the mouthpiece of her father, as well as from her own 
 private feeling of jealousy, ever abused the Countess, 
 and was bent on creating a rupture between her and the 
 Cardinal-Duke. The date is June 4, 1785, a few days 
 prior to Alfieri's letter to his sister. 
 
 " Monsignore, — According to various pieces of in- 
 formation received, I consider it my duty to inform 
 Your Royal Highness that Alfieri is, they say, seriously 
 annoyed with Madame on account of his jealousy. He 
 scolded her for preferring a certain Elyot. Meanwhile 
 that servant of his [Elia] has been dismissed by her, 
 presumably for other reasons of the same nature. Finally, 
 it is rumoured that a German, by name Count Proly [?], 
 has followed her to Paris. Alfieri makes no secret of 
 his anger and says everything possible that is nasty. 
 # Ibidem, p. 214, 
 
 I I29 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 What causes us alarm is that this man [Alfieri] has taken 
 a house here in Florence for four months, and that the 
 King is in constant danger of meeting him, much to his 
 annoyance and alarm. Moreover, this objectionable 
 movement of his seems like a deliberate insult to my 
 august father. Forgive me, Monsignore, if I pass the 
 limits of your permission to acquaint you so far as is 
 possible with what is going on." * 
 
 As the letter contains one serious mis-statement, namely, 
 that Alfieri had taken a house in Florence for the summer 
 months, it is not unreasonable to suppose that the other 
 innuendoes contained therein are either false or distorted 
 pieces of gossip. The fact was, that Alfieri came to 
 Florence for two or three days to attend a fete chamfetre 
 in the Boboli Gardens, and then returned at once to 
 Pisa. As to the statements concerning the two mys- 
 terious men who are said to have aroused Alfieri's 
 suspicions or jealousy, we know nothing of such persons, 
 and there is no mention of their names in Alfieri's Auto- 
 biography or in his private letters to Mario Bianchi. 
 As the whole of the long correspondence between the 
 Countess and Alfieri during this period has been destroyed, 
 there is no evidence to show either way whether or no 
 the Countess had been guilty of any flirtation serious 
 enough to rouse the slumbering spirit of jealousy in her 
 lover ; but we consider the charge itself highly im- 
 probable, seeing the extreme devotion of the pair and 
 their constant plans for a reunion in the coming autumn. 
 On the other hand, a determined attempt had been made 
 to storm the heart of the poet at Pisa during the winter 
 months by a certain Venetian lady staying in Pisa, who 
 had fallen head over ears in love with the handsome 
 poet, after watching him daily ride or drive in the 
 environs of the town. Possibly the unscrupulous Char- 
 lotte, only too eager to seize upon any scandal connected 
 with the pair, no matter how ill - authenticated or 
 
 * Reumont, Gli Ultimi Stuardi, Le Comtessa d' Albany e V, Alfieri, 
 I30 
 
Reunion 
 
 improbable, had heard some vague story of a flirtation 
 or a quarrel, which she had immediately out of malice 
 assigned to the detested wife of her father. That is 
 our own opinion ; but, as we have said, there is no 
 definite basis to decide upon the extent of the truth 
 or the untruth of Charlotte Stuart's charges, since all 
 letters on the subject have perished. Alfieri in one or 
 two of his letters at this time to Bianchi certainly alludes 
 to his deep anxiety about his Lady ; but this attitude, 
 we think, is wholly due to his alarm at the possible results 
 of Elia's tales, more or less correct, of the late meeting 
 at Colmar, which the valet, turned rogue, had been 
 scattering abroad at Pisa, and probably also at Bologna. 
 An exposure of this sort would naturally mean at least the 
 breaking of all existing ties between the Cardinal of York 
 and the Countess (a catastrophe the latter was particularly 
 anxious to avoid) ; and it might even cause complaints 
 to the French court, so as to imperil her annuity of 
 60,000 livres, to say nothing of a further loss of her 
 reputation. This prospect was surely sufficient of itself 
 to account for the inquietude of Alfieri concerning his 
 lady, and we firmly believe this to have been its sole 
 cause. Whether the Countess had got wind of her 
 lover's platonic and mild intrigue with the charmer 
 at Pisa,* we do not know ; but we feel confident that 
 from the point of jealousy, the Countess alone of the 
 pair had the smallest ground *or complaint, whilst we 
 have the poet's own statement for her magnanimity 
 towards his various peccadilloes. 
 
 Already the Countess had with the Pope's permission 
 long ago exchanged Italy for France, on the plea appa- 
 rently of a desire to be near her sister the Duchess of 
 Berwick. In April she had left Bologna, and was already 
 in Paris ; nor had she any intention of returning to 
 Italy until such time as the querulous old invalid in 
 Florence should have given up the ghost. She there- 
 
 * For a brief account of this episode wE. Copping, Alfieri and Goldoni, 
 
 P . 117. 
 
 131 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 fore spent the summer in Paris, and then, by precon- 
 ceived arrangement, again slipped off to Madame de 
 Maltzam's pleasant castle of Martinsburg, where she 
 was joined by Alfieri in the early part of September. 
 The poet again warns Mario Bianchi before his departure 
 thither to be very careful not to divulge his true address, 
 but to mention England as his destination. He also 
 begs his Sienese friend to keep him well informed as 
 to the movements of Charles Stuart, telling Mario and 
 Teresa that the chances of his returning to Italy depend 
 solely on the changes that would naturally ensue upon 
 the death of that perennial stumbling-block to the 
 happiness of himself and the Countess, " which we 
 have already agreed to think no more about and have 
 put on the list of things impossible." 
 
 This time Alfieri fully intended to remain at Martins- 
 burg for the whole winter, and accordingly he travelled 
 thither with his new secretary, a studious youth named 
 Gaetano Polidori,* whose name is fairly well known in 
 English literature as the grandfather of the poet-painter, 
 Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 
 
 Here for the second time a blissful and all-too-brief 
 space of two months sped by in each other's company, 
 and it is very difficult, from the obvious delight where- 
 with the pair found themselves reunited after a year's 
 interval, to imagine there can ever have been the smallest 
 foundation for the malign insinuations of the embittered 
 Charlotte Stuart, who was undoubtedly devoured with 
 a double portion of rancour, jealousy and uncharitable- 
 ness so far as her father's erring wife was concerned. 
 Towards the end of November the pair had again to 
 separate, the Countess returning to Paris, and Alfieri 
 remaining on at Martinsburg, " our home," after first 
 escorting his lady so far as Strasburg, where " with the 
 deepest grief he was forced to leave her for the third 
 time," so he relates in his Vita. His chief consolation 
 
 * For an account of this Polidori, see A. D'Ancona, Un Segretario deW 
 Alfieri {Varietd Stoiche e letterarie^ Serie I. Milano, 1883). 
 
 132 
 
Reunion 
 
 now, so he informs Bianchi, is that he can by staying 
 on at Colmar receive letters from her at short and regular 
 intervals, and this is the main reason of his own decision 
 not to return to Italy. The same letter also contains 
 a detailed description of their temporary home of Martins- 
 burg and of his own daily life in the absence of his lady. 
 
 " Colmar, November 29, 1785. 
 " . . . I cannot come to see you this winter. The 
 reasons are that, in the first place, I want to be near my 
 Lady [in Paris], and here at Colmar I can reach her within 
 four or five days, and can send and receive news twice 
 a week. With such a devoted heart as hers, my resolu- 
 tion is fully justifiable, though I must also add my own 
 laziness. I dwell in the place where I have been with 
 her, where I have high hopes of seeing her again, and 
 where I have my books, my manuscripts, my secretary, 
 and all the implements of my art. The house is well 
 situated, very cheerful, convenient and in good repair. 
 My horses are together in a clean and ample stable. I 
 hear no gossip of any kind, and I see nobody. I am 
 three miles distant from the town, which is near enough 
 for convenience, yet far enough for me to escape 
 its many nuisances, cobble-stones, noises and tire- 
 some people. All these attractions have induced me to 
 remain. 
 
 " I shall describe you my situation, and how pleasant 
 the country seems. . . . The house is placed on an 
 eminence of no great height, but sufficient to afford 
 a complete view over the whole plain so far as Old 
 Brisach ion the Rhine, just as one sees your own villa of 
 Montecniaro from Siena, about fifteen Italian miles 
 away. At the flanks are two gentle slopes covered with 
 vines, whilst behind them the hills rise gradually to 
 terminate in forest. The house, which here they call 
 a castle, is isolated and at a furlong's space from a hamlet, 
 that lies hidden to one side of it, so that its squalour 
 is not offensive to the eye, and one need not pass through 
 
 133 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 it to reach the castle, unless so disposed. The stables 
 form a separate building, fifty yards below the castle, 
 right underneath us but not causing any annoyance. 
 The interior of the house is not large, but it is adequate. 
 It is scrupulously clean, very light, and, thanks to its 
 stoves, very warm. At this moment I am writing from 
 a turret, which juts out from an angle of the castle. It 
 has three windows and a small stove, and is bright as 
 a lantern, and so delightfully warm that I am now writing 
 at an open window. The life I lead is this. 
 
 " I awake before six, light my lamp and read and write 
 in bed till ten. Having dressed, I call my secretary, 
 and revise the Sallust and the Tragedies, which are almost 
 ready for copying. Thus till mid-day I remain in my 
 bedroom. Then after a light meal, I go to the stables, 
 and ride or drive during my leisure hours till four. On 
 returning home, I dress my remaining hairs, which for 
 greater convenience I have now tied into a queue. I 
 dine and proceed to my cabinet, where I think of my 
 friends, write to my Lady, and read some book for amuse- 
 ment. At eight or a little earlier I visit the stables to 
 see the horses fed, talk to my favourite nag Achille, look 
 into expenses, argue with my man about oats and hay, 
 and at nine go to bed. 
 
 " In this uniform life I pass my days, and I miss neither 
 the gossip nor the amusements of the town. Only one 
 thing I yearn for, and that is my Lady, and yourself, 
 and the Teresina, and the Abbe [di Caluso], and that 
 grand unique friend, for whom desire is useless, since 
 nevermore shall I see him again. ..." * 
 
 This description of the chateau of Martinsburg, locally 
 known as Wettolsheim, affords us an interesting and 
 minute setting to the existence led by the Countess and 
 Alfieri during these few years. The castle itself was 
 still standing, though greatly modernised, in 1882, as 
 Baron von Reumont relates in his valuable account of 
 * Letter e Inedite, pp. 174-177. 
 
 134 
 
Reunion 
 
 Alfieri in Alsace ; * whilst the lovely rich scenery of 
 the valley of the Rhine remains almost unchanged from 
 the far-away time when Martinsburg was inhabited by 
 " the foreign princess and the Italian nobleman who 
 was not her husband," as the pair are traditionally said 
 to have been described by the peasants on the estate. 
 We get a few glimpses here and there of these sojourns 
 near Colmar, notably in the reminiscences of Gaetano 
 Polidori, who hated his employer Alfieri, and saw next 
 to nothing of the Countess of Albany, though dwelling 
 beneath the same roof with her. Polidori's account f 
 includes one vulgar and highly improbable anecdote 
 concerning the lady, together with some sharp and rather 
 spiteful remarks upon the foppishness of that would-be 
 antique Roman republican, Vittorio Alfieri himself, 
 with his scented ruddy locks, his flowing cloak of blue 
 lined with scarlet, and his intense but carefully concealed 
 craving for admiration from the very people he most 
 affected to despise. Polidori's reminiscences have all 
 the appearance of issuing from a jaundiced mind ; but 
 we have, on the other hand, some more pleasing and 
 also more authentic accounts from various visitors to 
 the castle of Martinsburg, including the poet Ippolito 
 Pindemonte and the eminent German antiquary, Baron 
 Joseph von Lassberg, a nephew of Baroness de Maltzam. 
 The learned Lassberg stayed at Colmar during the autumn 
 of 1786, and as the result of his close observations there, 
 he has left us a most attractive picture of the Countess of 
 Albany, as she appeared to him at the age of thirty-four. 
 
 " The Countess was then shining in all her beauty. 
 In stature a trifle above the middle height, her figure 
 was firm but not too robust, whilst in all her movements 
 she expressed grace and dignity. Her thick hair, of a 
 light chestnut hue, almost touched the ground. Her 
 
 * Alfieri in Alsazia. {Archivio Storico Italiano, 1882. Serie v. vol. x. 
 pp. 210-222.) 
 t D'Ancona, Un Segretario delV Alfieri. Of. Cit. 
 
 135 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 sky-blue eyes exhaled love and sweetness. A well- 
 formed mouth showed rows of even teeth, white as 
 ivory. Her complexion was most delicate, but the 
 roses of her cheeks had partially faded, from the sufferings 
 she had undergone owing to the behaviour of her husband. 
 Her feet and hands were shapely, whilst her conduct 
 and manners pointed to high breeding and a kindly 
 nature. Her voice was somewhat louder and shriller 
 than is usual in her sphere of life. She danced, sang, 
 drew, played the harp and the spinet, and rode better 
 than one commonly sees in persons of her rank. Her 
 tastes were mostly serious, and though she owned the 
 gift of conversation in a marked degree, nobody could 
 accuse her of loquacity. She was agreeable to all, and 
 withal kind and generous to the poor. One needed to 
 understand her thoroughly to appreciate her, but such 
 appreciation was permanent." * 
 
 During the year 1786, the break, which had so long 
 been threatened between the Cardinal of York and his 
 sister-in-law, came actually to pass. In spite of her 
 behaviour in Rome in 1783, the Cardinal had continued 
 to correspond on terms of friendship with the Countess, 
 nor could his brother's angry appeals, now joined with 
 those of Charlotte Stuart, induce him to believe in the 
 existence of " lo scandalo con Conte Alfieri," as it was 
 termed. In vain did Charlotte, as the secretary of her 
 indignant father, argue and insinuate in her letters ; 
 the Cardinal remained firm in his belief in the lady's 
 
 * Reumont, Gli Ultimi Stuardi. There has been much dispute as to the 
 exact colour of Madame d' Albany's eyes, which Alfieri invariably describes 
 as negri or black ; Bonstetten as of a bleu fonce or dark blue, and this writer 
 as of a bleu celeste or sky-blue. The real fact seems to be that her eyes were 
 of a changing chameleon hue, appearing now light and now dark to the 
 beholder, a peculiarity which constituted in itself no small charm. Most 
 of her portraits, however, exhibit the eyes of a decided blue, in spite of 
 Alfieri's judgment upon them. Compare on this subject the interesting 
 contribution by " Hermentrude," to Notes and Queries (3rd Series, vol. 
 viii. p. 164), who discusses the matter at some length with quotations from 
 the sonnets of Alfieri. 
 136 
 
Reunion 
 
 present innocence, however imprudent or misleading 
 he might have deemed her past conduct. But in the 
 autumn of 1785 he graciously accorded a personal inter- 
 view to the Chevalier's daughter at Perugia, where the 
 damning evidence then adduced by this astute young 
 lady finally opened wide the Cardinal's eyes to the 
 continued existence of the intrigue. No doubt, the 
 statements which the rebellious Elia had let fall had 
 reached the Chevalier and his daughter, so that they had 
 probably had little difficulty in discovering the secret 
 meetings at Madame de Maltzam's country-house. 
 Once convinced, though sorely against his will, for he 
 seems really to have been fond of his sprightly and 
 (apparently) affectionate sister-in-law, Henry Stuart 
 now seconded the desperate efforts of his brother in order 
 to stop the lady's pension from the French court, which 
 rendered her sufficiently independent to defy her 
 husband's accusations of misbehaviour. 
 
 The Cardinal therefore now began to demand not 
 denials of guilt (with which he had hitherto shown himself 
 fairly satisfied), but explanations of her movements since 
 the summer of 1784 ; and to these searching questions 
 the Countess had, as may well be supposed, no reply 
 to return, beyond professing her undying affection and 
 her complete innocence. With this general and vague 
 answer to his direct query the Cardinal was no longer 
 ready to rest content, and ere the year 1786 was brought 
 to a close, the long-averted rupture was brought about. 
 Lengthy documents were now drawn up by the Cardinal- 
 Duke, setting forth the lady's late iniquities, and refusing 
 to hold further communication with her till she had 
 cleared her name, or had at least refused evermore to be 
 visited by Alfieri. In vain did the Countess plead and 
 promise ; the Cardinal proved obdurate, though he 
 constantly stated his readiness to overlook the past, 
 provided she would put herself in the hands of Cardinal 
 de Bernis or some mutual friend, who would undertake 
 to cut off all future communication between herself and 
 
 137 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 her lover. This suggestion the Countess continued 
 to evade, so that her brother-in-law now openly dis- 
 trusted all her promises and protestations for the future. 
 " It cannot be denied " (so runs the preamble of a long 
 Memorial of the Cardinal's on the conduct of his sister- 
 in-law) " that the Count Alfieri has been the origin, the 
 cause, the instigation, and the agent of the utterly 
 deplorable and irreparable differences between the Royal 
 Brother and his Consort, and also in consequence between 
 the Lady-Consort and the Cardinal-Duke." * 
 
 Secure in the possession of her French pension (perhaps 
 through the good offices of Queen Marie-Antoinette, 
 whom she had known as a child), the Countess was able 
 to withstand the double attack of the Stuart brothers 
 to bring her to her knees by depriving her of the means 
 of existence ; but there can be little doubt that she felt 
 very acutely the final discovery of her late intimacy with 
 Alfieri by the Cardinal. She had evidently hoped to 
 keep his valuable approval and friendship to the last, 
 and possibly but for the determined action of Charlotte 
 Stuart she might never wholly have lost them. Having, 
 however, lost irretrievably that on which she evidently 
 set the highest consideration, the Countess henceforth 
 rarely alludes to her brother-in-law, who in his turn 
 nevermore addressed any private letter to her. How 
 artificial and deceitful her whole conduct must have 
 been to him throughout these six years, is made manifest 
 by the unkind and satirical comments upon him and his 
 foibles which she made later at a time when his mis- 
 fortunes and his great age should have ensured him the 
 warmest sympathy. Nothing in short can be more 
 callous or unsisterly than the remarks she allows herself 
 to indite to her friend Teresa Mocenni in the spring of 
 1800, when the Cardinal of York, old, infirm and bowed 
 down with his enforced wanderings, was resting for a 
 few days at Siena on his return to Rome from the late 
 Conclave of Venice. 
 
 * British Museum. Add MSS. 30, 478, ff. 207-210. 
 
 138 
 
Reunion 
 
 " My dear Teresa," she writes on May 17, "I write 
 to warn our good Arch-priest that the Cardinal of York 
 is going to settle at Siena . . . until such time as he can 
 return to Frascati. It will be very pleasant for the poor 
 Archbishop [Zondadari], who will be ruined if he has 
 to keep this incubus for any length of time in his palace. 
 He won't sleep a night in Florence, on account of myself 
 whom he wishes to avoid. He is very whimsical and very 
 dull, and he bores every one he meets. When he was 
 on the open sea [between Messina and Venice] he wanted 
 to have the ship stopped at his pleasure, as if such a thing 
 were possible ! He belongs to a race of amphibious 
 creatures, who are intended to be seen from a distance, 
 but whom an evil chance has brought close to our eyes. 
 All that class would appear similar, if one had to live 
 with any one of them, as in the case of that stage-figure, 
 my brother-in-law." 
 
 And again, in a letter of a week later, the writer 
 remarks : " You will see the Cardinal of York at Siena, 
 and no doubt he will be as silly there as he is everywhere 
 else. Mercifully for the Archbishop, he is going to stay 
 at the monastery, so that this visit will not ruin him. 
 I expect you will enjoy his company for some time." 
 
 In a third letter, of May 31, the Countess asks the 
 Abbe Luti to give a polite message from herself to Mon- 
 signore Cesarini, but to give it without the knowledge 
 of his master the Cardinal, " who hates me like Lucifer " ! 
 
 In the autumn of 1804 the Countess spent some time in 
 Rome, in order to consult with the sculptor Canova about 
 the monument she was proposing to erect to Alfieri ; 
 but though her brother-in-law, from whom she had 
 years before received such generous treatment, was 
 fallen into his dotage and sunk in a state of senile childish- 
 ness, the Countess never once went to Frascati to visit 
 him, although his feelings for herself cannot have been 
 wholly devoid of affection, if only for the sake of times 
 long past, when she had so willingly and seemingly so 
 
 *39 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 gratefully availed herself of his protection and the glamour 
 of his name. For the old man, the picturesque gentle 
 Pretender, the Cardinal-King Henry IX., turned to 
 forgive the woman who had once accepted his bounty, 
 and then deceived and even maligned him, by bequeath- 
 ing her in his will as a memento a valuable picture and 
 a gold watch with her cipher. And these the Countess 
 accepts with a profession of affection and sympathy 
 which we hope rather than believe to be genuine, declar- 
 ing she was quite satisfied with the thought of her brother- 
 in-law's dying recollection of herself, " had he left her 
 only a pin for remembrance." * It is pleasant to think 
 of this graceful forgiving act of the pious and much 
 abused Cardinal ; but the whole story of the behaviour 
 of Louise, Countess of Albany, towards her brother-in-law 
 forms undoubtedly one of the most disagreeable and 
 discreditable episodes in a career which is certainly not 
 devoid of a good many blemishes. 
 
 * Hist. MSS. Commission Tenth Report. Appendix. Part vi. p. 249. 
 
 I40 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 DEATH OF CHARLES-EDWARD STUART 
 
 " Oui, l'adultere a beau s'entourer de mille excuses et se parer 
 de tous les prestiges de la poesie ; l'heure de la punition finit , 
 toujours par sonner. Sous une forme ou sous une autre, le juge 
 invisible sait attendre les coupables. Certes, on ne peut blamer 
 la Comtesse d' Albany de s'etre soustraite aux mauvais traitemens 
 de Charles-Edouard ; des le jour ou il viola tous ses devoirs, 
 Charles-Edouard n'avait plus de droits sur elle. Une fois libre 
 cependant, une fois arrachee a ce joug odieux, comment absoudre 
 la femme qui ne sut pas se respecter ? " 
 
 St. R£ne Taillandier, La Comtesse d? Albany 
 
 The open breach between the Countess and the Cardinal 
 of York, as well as authenticated reports of the renewed 
 relations between the Countess and Alfieri, soon caused 
 the veil of concealment to be removed. Setting at 
 defiance both her brother-in-law's fulminations and the 
 opinion of the censorious world, the Countess now induced 
 the poet to return with her to Paris in the winter months 
 of 1786 ; whilst with regard to this change in his plans 
 Alfieri writes to Bianchi from Colmar on October 5. 
 
 "... Since the latter part of August my Lady has 
 been here, and till lately I have been in uncertainty as 
 to my plans. But she has at last persuaded me to go 
 with her to Paris for the winter, and return to Colmar 
 in May, now that the business matters between her 
 husband and herself have been settled. Paris is to me 
 always the most insufferable spot . . . but the presence 
 of the Beloved beautifies everything, and I proceed 
 thither solely for her sake. So you will not behold me 
 for a year's space, 
 
 1 44 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 " Siena put new life into me, because I was busy there 
 all day long, and possessed three or four friends who put 
 up with my vagaries, and amongst whom I could pass 
 pleasant evenings so as to gather fresh strength for the 
 coming day. Paris, even with my Lady, will bore me 
 to death, for I cannot suffer fools. I shall, however, 
 take the line of quizzing them, and of making notes for 
 future comedies. I shall be forty years old * next 
 January, and on my birthday I shall divest myself of 
 the buskin, my tears and the mask of tragedy, since I 
 mean to consecrate the next six years and no more to 
 satirising everything in this world that deserves mockery ; 
 whilst the remainder of my life from forty-six onward 
 I intend to spend in keeping silence, and in printing, 
 polishing and revising my works." f 
 
 On December 5, therefore, Alfieri left Colmar somewhat 
 unwillingly in compliance with the wishes of the Countess, 
 so that by the middle of the month he was installed in 
 the city which he had abused at various times as " that 
 Babylon ; that cloaca maxima of putrefaction," &c.t 
 
 To Mario Bianchi he accordingly writes on December 
 26, telling of his arrival. 
 
 " . . . I left Alsace with my Lady on December 5th 
 and we reached Paris on the 15th, after a somewhat 
 tedious journey owing to the bitterness of the weather, 
 although so far we have had no snow, only roads deep 
 in mire. Despite this, you can imagine that travelling 
 thus all alone with the Better Half of Myself I did not 
 suffer much from the discomfort of the vile roads. Here 
 we do not inhabit the same house for propriety's sake; 
 and I am lodging a short distance away. We have, 
 however, grown so used to being together at the villa, 
 that I feel consequently some annoyance ; and besides, 
 this city has always been hateful to me. This is my 
 fifth visit to Paris in the last eighteen years, and were 
 
 * In reality thirty-eight. 
 
 t Letter e Inedite. X Op.Cit. 
 
 142 
 
Death of Charles-Edward Stuart 
 
 it not for my Lady, I should refuse to endure it for a 
 day." * 
 
 They spent the whole winter and spring in Paris, the 
 poet detesting the city despite the presence of the 
 Countess, and missing keenly his horses, his books and 
 the repose of Colmar. Early in the summer of 1787 
 they returned to Martinsburg, where before many weeks 
 had passed, Alfieri was prostrated by the serious illness 
 (the direct result of over-work) which had long been 
 hanging over his head. Throughout this stubborn and 
 prolonged attack, he was nursed by his Lady as well as 
 by the faithful Abbe di Caluso, who had recently come 
 to Colmar to spend some months with his friend, and 
 it was chiefly due to their combined exertions that the 
 invalid was rescued from the clutches of death. By the 
 middle of September, Alfieri was pronounced out of 
 danger, so that he was able to inform his correspondent 
 at Siena of his convalescence. 
 
 " Colmar, September 15, 1787. 
 
 " See, I can only just breathe, or hold up my head 
 after a mortal illness, wherewith I have been threatened 
 for the last two years, and which I warned you of in my 
 last letter from Geneva. At last it seems as if Nature 
 had run her course, for since the eleventh of August 
 till to-day I have not set foot to the ground, whilst it 
 was but three days ago that they were able to ward off 
 a terrible attack of dysentery. But now I feel myself 
 radically cured, after having been given over for dead 
 for twenty days. . . . 
 
 " I was in good hands, for where could I expect to 
 find more devoted nursing than between my Donna 
 Amata and the Amico Letterato [Caluso] ? "* 
 
 During the long days of convalescence, the beloved 
 Lady and the learned Abbe found some difficulty in 
 
 * Ibidem^ 
 
 m 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 distracting the busy mind of their restless patient, and 
 various little artifices were resorted to in order to attain 
 that end. One of their efforts has been noted once or 
 twice as illustrating the naturally shallow mind of the 
 Countess ; but surely any attempt to coax an invalid 
 into forgetting his pains and grievances ought not to 
 be condemned, merely because it may happen to be of 
 a trivial character ? It would seem that among the 
 many persons who were now openly visiting the distin- 
 guished tenants of Martinsburg, some relations of Madame 
 de Maltzam used occasionally to attend at the house. 
 One of these ladies living at Colmar chanced to possess 
 a pretty little girl of six, who was a special favourite with 
 the Countess, and one day the latter, regarding atten- 
 tively the extreme beauty of this child, thought to 
 concoct a pleasant surprise for Allien, who was still kept 
 to the sofa, although warmly dressed. Accordingly, 
 the little Lina was attired as a Cupid and hidden at the 
 bottom of the invalid's sofa, behind a curtain, which 
 was suddenly drawn aside to exhibit a living picture of 
 the God of Love. In after years the child herself, then 
 Madame Lina Beck-Bernard, used to relate this simple 
 little episode at Martinsburg, which, as we have already 
 stated, has sometimes been adduced in evidence of the 
 innate vulgarity and silliness of the poor Countess of 
 Albany, who was thereby merely guilty of a small effort 
 to amuse her sick friend, and was apparently in league 
 with the serious-minded Abbe di Caluso in this matter. 
 
 " The Countess of Albany noticed me at the house 
 of my cousin Madame de Maltzam (who was then lending 
 her house to the Countess and to Vittorio Alfieri) ; I 
 was then six years old with curly hair and rosy cheeks. 
 The Princess declared I was like Cupid, and asked leave 
 of my mother to bring me to Wettolsheim (Martinsburg). 
 She had a vest of pale rose-coloured silk made for me 
 and a tunic of sky-blue muslin, to the back of which were 
 fastened some gauze wings sewn with peacock's feathers, 
 
 144 
 
Death of Charles-Edward Stuart 
 
 To complete my character of Love, I carried a bow and 
 a gilt quiver, and in this guise I was set at the end of a 
 large yellow damask sofa with a canopy of yellow damask 
 overhead. On the sofa itself was stretched Count 
 Alfieri, enveloped in furs, although it was the height of 
 summer." * 
 
 According to one account, the poet, in spite of his weak 
 state of health, became very excited at this sudden 
 apparition of Cupid, and set to spouting verses in so 
 theatrical a manner that the human deity took alarm 
 and started to howl ; whereupon the child was hastily 
 removed, and her terror was only appeased by being 
 driven back to Colmar in Alfieri's phaeton.t 
 
 The summer of 1787 is also remarkable for a determined 
 effort on the part of the old Countess Monica Alfieri 
 to induce her son to leave the Countess of Albany in 
 order to marry a young wife, an heiress and a member 
 of a distinguished Piedmontese family.} The true 
 relations between the pair at Colmar were now so well 
 known, that at last even the innocent old lady living at 
 Asti had grown to realise the nature of the dominating 
 influence wielded by the royal Princess, whom her son 
 had (so chivalrously and so unselfishly, as she once con- 
 idered) rescued from the power of a drunken husband. 
 The poor mother had made her proposal by means of 
 Alfieri's guest, the Abbe di Caluso, as an old friend of 
 the family, and she does not even seem to have contem- 
 plated the possibility of her letter being commented 
 upon by all three — her son, the Abbe and the Countess. 
 One can imagine the reception that this suggestion must 
 have caused in that charmed circle of intellectual souls, 
 and how this artless appeal must have raised a triumphant 
 smile of amusement on the face of the " Donna Amata," 
 
 * Reumont, Alfieri in Alsazia. 
 
 t R. de Bourdelles, Etudes Italiennes, p. 151. (Quoted from an article 
 by M. Andre Hallays, in the Journal des Debats, April 27, 1906.) 
 X V ita, vol. ii. pp. 174, 175. Vernon Lee, pp. 142-145. 
 
 K 145 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 who was still waiting for news of the death of her husband, 
 now installed in Rome, and with his daughter Charlotte 
 reigning in the old palace of the Santi Apostoli. Still, 
 behind her mocking laughter and open smiles, there must 
 have lurked some real sense of bitterness at the thought 
 of the good old Countess Alfieri's recent enlightenment 
 as to her romance, so that no doubt she lamented, 
 though in the strictest secrecy, the withdrawal of the 
 Countess Monica's approval, as she had already, also 
 in secret, bewailed her rupture with the Cardinal of 
 York. 
 
 Alfieri, who had not even sufficient curiosity to inquire 
 the name of the domestic paragon suggested by his 
 mother, briefly replied that such an idea could not be 
 entertained, seeing that his present age, his pursuit of 
 literature and his own unconcealed theories on the state 
 of matrimony absolutely precluded such a notion from 
 his emancipated mind. This decided refusal to her plea, 
 though couched in vague but affectionate terms, must 
 have come as a sore blow to the anxious mother, who 
 felt only too plainly how useless it was to try to separate 
 her son from the royal siren that had enthralled him. 
 From time to time the poor lady made feeble efforts 
 to induce the wanderer to return to Asti, or else expressed 
 timid doubts as to his soul's health. Indeed, letters 
 passed with tolerable frequency between mother and 
 son, but all those of the former are imbued with a hopeless 
 sadness, for the Countess Monica had realised at last the 
 waning of her influence, never a very strong one, over her 
 brilliant son. Alfieri, on his part, always shows himself 
 gentle and conciliatory ; he seeks to parry her plain 
 questions with soothing answers ; he speaks of his 
 constant affection for her ; and does what he can to 
 allay her alarms or suspicions concerning the ungodly 
 life she conceives him to be leading with the Countess 
 of Albany at Colmar and in Paris. Seeing how essen- 
 tially self-centred and impatient of all restraint he was, 
 Alfieri seems to have behaved with more consideration 
 146 
 
Death of Charles-Edward Stuart 
 
 towards his mother than might have been expected 
 from the general tenor of his career. 
 
 " I want to tell you for your consolation," so he writes 
 from Paris a year or two later, " that I am less bound to 
 the world than you suppose. I live a very retired life 
 in this city, going to bed every evening at ten, rising at 
 five or six, and studying all day till two ; whilst I am 
 truly convinced that one can serve God and please Him 
 in every condition of life." * And again — 
 
 " You ask me if I have a good spiritual director. Really, 
 I do not wish to run the risk of hypocrisy by saying I 
 hold long and frequent discourses with him, but some- 
 times I recognise and argue with a certain Corsican 
 Capuchin, who is a man of most saintly and exemplary 
 life." f 
 
 The following letter, which is the last the Countess 
 Monica was fated to address to her absent but dearly 
 loved son, especially stirred Alfieri, for it seems to have 
 aroused in him a genuine desire to revisit the parent he 
 had so long neglected. But his filial resolution was 
 made too late. His tears flowed freely, so he tells us ; 
 but there was an influence behind that held him back 
 from immediately carrying out his intention, and six 
 weeks after this last pathetic appeal by the old Countess 
 Monica, the hand that wrote it was stiff in death, so that 
 the priceless opportunity of obeying an aged mother's 
 last request was lost to him for evermore. 
 
 " Asti, March 13, 1792. 
 "... Console my old age, I beg you, by giving me 
 your news and by removing from me the anxiety I have 
 experienced on your account, since by reason of my 
 advanced age I can no longer support myself with the 
 hope of seeing you again. And I believe, if you did 
 come home, you would soon perceive that my face is 
 no longer that of the portrait you possess of me, but is 
 in reality that of a corpse, as no doubt the Person (who 
 * Mazzatinti, p. 219, t Ibidem, p. 220. 
 
 1 47 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 you say means to accompany you) will tell you. I do 
 not believe it possible she can feel the smallest jot of 
 affection for myself, since I have never even been granted 
 the opportunity of meeting her. I should like to think 
 that the affection for me she professes was the result of 
 a tie, that would allow your temporal happiness to give 
 place to the salvation of your soul. That would indeed 
 be a real consolation to me, and the sole one I can desire ; 
 since, my dear Son, I love you with a love that is equally 
 maternal and Christian, making me wish for you those 
 good things which can alone satisfy the human heart 
 in this life, in order that later we may be united by the 
 mercy of God with Him for ever. I embrace you 
 tenderly, as your most affectionate Mother." * 
 
 Six weeks later, on April 23, in her seventieth year, 
 died the mother of Vittorio Alfieri, lamenting to the 
 last the continued absence of her son, caught, as she not 
 unnaturally conceives, in the toils of the Countess of 
 Albany, whose attitude she here criticises with a 
 bitterness that is none the less powerful for the writer's 
 restraint of language. 
 
 After having paid a visit, together with his Lady and 
 the Abbe di Caluso, in the autumn of 1787 to the cele- 
 brated printing-press recently set up by Beaumarchais 
 at Kehl, near Strasburg, Alfieri and the Countess returned 
 to Paris for the winter months. In the following February 
 there arrived the long expected and long delayed news 
 of the death of Charles-Edward Stuart, strangely enough 
 in the gloomy palace that had witnessed his birth, on 
 January 30, 1788. He expired peacefully in the arms 
 of his daughter Charlotte, who had certainly tended 
 the poor half-imbecile hero with loving care and devotion 
 for the past three years, and who deserves in consequence 
 the gratitude of all those persons who take a genuine 
 interest in the career of the Young Chevalier alike 
 through stormy and through sunny days. The tidings 
 * Lettere Inedite> p. 564. 
 
 I48 
 
Death of Charles-Edward Stuart 
 
 of his end made a great impression, if we are to credit 
 Alfieri's statement, on the wife who was thereby changed 
 into the widow of a legitimist sovereign. The circum- 
 stance is set forth with much edifying reflection in the 
 pages of the Vita, and the passage certainly calls for some 
 passing comment. 
 
 "The February [of 1788] had scarcely begun when 
 my Lady received news of the death of her husband, 
 which took place in Rome, whither he had retired after 
 leaving Florence two years before. And although his 
 demise had been for some time foreseen on account of 
 the frequent attacks he had suffered for months past, 
 and although she now found herself a widow and wholly 
 free, and had also in no wise lost a friend in her late 
 spouse, yet to my astonishment I perceived that she was 
 in spite of all not a little stricken with a grief that was 
 decidedly sincere and perfectly natural, for hypocrisy 
 never entered into that most frank and incomparable 
 heart of hers. And indeed, despite the disparity of age, 
 her husband might have found in her an admirable 
 companion and a true friend, if not a loving wife, had 
 he but refrained from harassing her continually with 
 his peevish, cruel, and drunken ways. This piece of 
 evidence I owe to truth itself." * 
 
 This account is, of course, highly reasonable and 
 proper, but somehow the words have not the ring of 
 truth notwithstanding Alfieri's last sentence. It is 
 hard to believe the Countess could really have been 
 thus smitten either with sorrow or with remorse, when 
 the event awaited so long and so urgently had at length 
 come to pass. Monsieur St. Rene Taillandier goes so 
 far as to declare that cette brillante fecheresse must have 
 felt envious of the privileges won by Charlotte Stuart 
 in being permitted to minister to the dying Chevalier,! 
 
 * Vita, vol. ii. p. 185. 
 
 t Revue des deux Monde vol. xxxi. pp. 291, 292. 
 
 149 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 but there is not a scrap of evidence, except these highly- 
 suspicious remaiks by Alfieri, to suggest that the lady 
 owned any feelings save those of hatred for past ill- 
 usage towards her husband. If she did shed tears ; 
 well, then, the statement made above as to her heart 
 being incapable of hypocrisy, must have been a gratuitous 
 untruth, for the Countess could not in reason be expected 
 to mourn for one she detested and whose death at last 
 left her free and comparatively wealthy. In strong 
 conflict with the passage in the Vita lately quoted is 
 the remark let fall by Alfieri in the course of a letter to 
 Mario Bianchi a fortnight or so later. 
 
 " Paris, February 23, 1788. 
 " In your letter you give me good news in telling me 
 you hope to escape the trammels of matrimony. I 
 congratulate you, and bid you hold firm to your resolve. 
 We have just learnt here, about ten days ago, of the 
 death of the Person in Rome, but so far we can hardly 
 credit the news, so convinced were we of his immortality. 
 Despite all this, nothing will now change the tenor of 
 our existence, and I fear from henceforth I shall never- 
 more be able to stay anywhere in Italy for long."* 
 
 Thus it will be seen that the cold callous allusion in 
 a private letter to Bianchi and the edifying homily in 
 the Autobiography (composed for the benefit of the 
 public) are at variance in the account given of the recep- 
 tion of the news of the Chevalier's death ; and such a 
 circumstance of itself makes us somewhat disinclined to 
 place the full confidence we could wish in some other 
 important passages about himself and the Countess, 
 which Alfieri has inserted in the Vita. 
 
 This particular letter to Mario Bianchi affords us also 
 a clear glimpse into Alfieri's mental views on the subject 
 of marriage, especially when taken in conjunction with 
 his reply to his mother's recent suggestion for his own 
 * Letter e Inedite, p. 203. 
 
 150 
 
Death of Charles-Edward Stuart 
 
 betrothal. It was at one time commonly reported 
 (mainly, one would suppose, with the object of sacrificing 
 to the proprieties) that Alfieri and the Countess had been 
 married, though with the greatest secrecy, so soon as 
 the death of the Chevalier permitted the performance 
 of such a rite. Not only, however, is there not a tittle 
 of evidence in support of this alleged marriage, but there 
 is every reason to suppose that for several causes the pair 
 held aloof from encountering a tie against which Alfieri 
 had always inveighed and which the Countess, following 
 her lover's views in all things, likewise regarded either 
 with disdain or indifference. There is not a hint in any 
 of the Countess' later letters to her confidant Teresa 
 Mocenni of such a step, whilst the sentence just given 
 from Alfieri's private opinion, vouchsafed in confidence 
 to Mario Bianchi, shows us his real sentiments very 
 plainly. Moreover, what would the pair have gained 
 by changing their existing state of liberty into one of 
 social convention ? As Signore Bertana rather bluntly 
 puts the question from a worldly and practical point 
 of view : " to obtain the countship of Cortemilia in 
 exchange for that of Albany would be but a poor bargain 
 for the lady ; whilst Alfieri did not want a simple countess 
 for his wife when he had a queen for his mistress. And 
 besides what could be in worse taste than to substitute 
 the poetry of love contained in this unique union for 
 the vulgar bond of matrimony ? " * Indeed, despite 
 one or two apocryphal anecdotes to the contrary, it is 
 pretty certain that Alfieri and the Countess never even 
 dreamed of passing through the ceremony of marriage, 
 but continued to lead the same life after as before the 
 death of the lady's husband. One thing, and one thing 
 only, might perhaps have operated to induce this pair 
 of lovers to embrace matrimony, namely, the existence 
 of children, who would have been legitimised in law 
 by a subsequent union. As this sole argument on 
 behalf of formal matrimony was lacking, the pair were 
 * fc Bertana,p. 219. 
 
 151 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 therefore content to live on as formerly, though in a 
 freer and more open manner. In fact, the old idea 
 that Alfieri became the husband of his " Donna Amata " 
 has almost vanished in modern opinion, though if any 
 further proof were needed for our statement, we may 
 perhaps mention the curious little memorandum, in 
 Alfieri's own hand-writing, amongst the manuscripts 
 at Montpellier, which protests against himself and the 
 Countess of Albany being classed together as a married 
 couple and therefore liable to the incidence of the 
 tassa famigliare which was imposed on the citizens of 
 Florence in the year 1801 ; and in which he declares 
 that " the Countess of Albany and the Count Vittorio 
 Alfieri, having arrived together in Florence and inhabit- 
 ing together Casa Gianfigliazzi, ought not either together, 
 and still less singly, to be accounted liable for the so- 
 called family tax." * 
 
 This simple denial of the marriage-tie in the course 
 of casual business ought to be conclusive evidence on 
 this point, although it would be easy to give many more 
 proofs of the improbability of such a ceremony having 
 ever taken place either in Paris, or later in Italy. It 
 has sometimes been said that the Countess desired the 
 sacred bond, but that Alfieri refused to humour her 
 wishes in the matter. It may have been so, but it does 
 not seem likely, for the Countess had nothing to gain 
 and much to lose by an open marriage. As widow of 
 a royal personage — and nobody could with reason deny 
 that appellation at least to her late husband — Louise 
 of Stolberg was both a privileged and an interesting 
 celebrity ; as the wife of an Italian count who wrote 
 poetry, her position in that social world wherein she 
 loved to shine would have been seriously diminished. 
 As to her character being rehabilitated by such a step, 
 the exact opposite might possibly have been the result, 
 seeing that she always stoutly maintained that the tie 
 
 * Mazzatinti, Le Carte Alfieriane di Montpellier. (Gtornale Stortco della 
 Letter atura Italiana, vol. iii. p. 381.) 
 
 152 
 
Death of Charles-Edward Stuart 
 
 binding her to Alfieri was one of the intellect and not 
 one of the heart ; and although nobody seriously credited 
 this theory, yet it was perhaps better to carry such a 
 fiction to its logical conclusion as a widow, as she had 
 hitherto done as a wife living apart from a tyrannical 
 husband. Such an existence, moreover, gave the Countess 
 a sense of property' in her talented lover (of whom it is 
 needless to say she was inordinately proud), which 
 marriage would at once endanger. In conclusion, then 
 we may state it as a positive fact, that the Countess and 
 the poet were never married, and that any declaration 
 to the contrary is devoid of truth and even of probability, 
 and has evidently been invented by well-meaning persons 
 merely in order to throw a veil of respectability over 
 this curious and indeed unique intimacy. The precise 
 situation of the pair has been admirably summed 
 up by " Vernon Lee," in the following passage from 
 her biography of the Countess, and we cannot do better 
 than to call in her valuable opinion to aid and intensify 
 our own. — " Alfieri and the Countess did not get married, 
 simply, I think, because they did not care to get married ; 
 because marriage would entail reorganisation of a mode 
 of life which had somehow organised itself ; because 
 it would give a commonplace prose solution to what 
 appeared a romantic and exceptional story ; and finally 
 because it might necessitate certain losses in the way 
 of money, of comfort and of rank." * 
 
 One result of her husband's death was greatly appre- 
 ciated, in that from the opening months of the year 
 1788 the Countess of Albany became entitled to receive 
 the annual income of 6000 scudi which had been settled 
 upon her in the event of her widowhood With her 
 pension from the court of France in addition to this 
 jointure (to say nothing of the large annuity which Alfieri 
 drew from his sister, the Countess Giulia di Cumiana, 
 in compliance with the terms of his donation; made in 
 1778), the Countess was now enabled, as a free and 
 * Vernon Lee, p. 149. 
 
 153 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 tolerably wealthy woman, to rent a suitable hotel in the 
 Rue de Bourgogne, where she might indulge her taste 
 for social entertainment to the full. Such a house 
 with such a mistress was naturally able to attract within 
 its doors all that was best in Parisian society, both fashion- 
 able and intellectual, and only very few persons of the 
 great social world were inclined to look askance at the 
 widow of a British Pretender, merely because of her 
 romantic attachment to the greatest Italian poet of his 
 day, so that the drawing-room in the Rue de Bourgogne 
 soon came to rank as one of the most popular and fre- 
 quented of the salons in Paris, then vaguely restless but 
 apparently unsuspecting of the vast political upheaval 
 that was in store As in the case of her brother-in-law, 
 the Cardinal-King at Frascati, a certain amount of regal 
 display was observed by this charming and affable Reine 
 (PAngleterre, as the Countess was commonly styled by 
 certain of her acquaintances, although the use of such 
 a title, however agreeable to the secret pride of the lady, 
 was never insisted on save in the case of her own servants. 
 A cosmopolitan crowd of all that was modish, witty, 
 learned, and even revolutionary in Paris, was wont to 
 throng her salon ; so that it is easy to believe that the 
 Countess was thoroughly happy during this brief period, 
 wherein she could command at one and the same time 
 the open devotion of her distinguished lover and the 
 admiration of the cultured set of the first capital in 
 Europe. Sir Nathaniel Wraxall, who had known the 
 Countess a few years previously in Florence and had 
 then been greatly struck by " her fair complexion, her 
 delicate features and her lively as well as attractive 
 manners," was amongst those persons of British birth 
 who were admitted to the receptions of this acknowledged 
 queen of Parisian society. 
 
 " I passed an evening at her residence, the Hotel de 
 Bourgogne, situate in the Faubourg St. Germains, 
 where she supported an elegant establishment. Her 
 
 154 
 
Death of Charles-Edward Stuart 
 
 person then retained great pretension to beauty, and 
 her deportment, unassuming but dignified, set off her 
 attractions. In one of the apartments stood a canopy 
 with a chair of state, on which were displayed the Royal 
 Arms of Great Britain, and every piece of plate, down 
 to the very teaspoons, was ornamented in a similar 
 manner. 
 
 " A numerous company, both English and French, 
 male and female, was assembled under her roof, by all 
 of whom she was addressed as Countess of Albany ; 
 but her own domestics, when serving her, invariably 
 gave her the title of Majesty. The honours due to a 
 Queen were in like manner paid her by the nuns of all 
 those convents in Paris which she was accustomed to 
 visit on certain holy days or festivals." * 
 
 In order to understand the vogue and attraction of 
 these parties in the Rue de Bourgogne, we must imagine 
 all the celebrities of ante-revolutionary Paris passing 
 through her rooms, remarking in their passage with 
 amused smiles or genuine sympathy the royal dais with 
 its pitiful royal adornments. There were the brilliant 
 Madame de Stael (to whom the Stuart Pretender's 
 widow was always her chere souveraine) ; the sprightly 
 and clever little Madame de Flahault, whose first husband 
 was fated to lose his head beneath the guillotine at no 
 distant date ; the great dramatist Beaumarchais ; the 
 poet Andre Chenier ; the morose painter David ; and 
 a host of other literary, scientific or artistic luminaries. 
 The Papal nuncio, Monsignore Dugnani, was wont to 
 attend ; and many an ambassador including the Imperial 
 envoy the Comte Mercy d'Argenteau (her own cousin) ; 
 whilst amongst the members of the entirely fashionable 
 set came such persons as Madame Josephine de Beau- 
 harnais ; and her own sisters the Duchess of Berwick 
 and the Comtesse'"d'Arberg. This existence in Paris, 
 half-modish and half-intellectual, exactly suited the 
 
 * H. B. Wheatley, Memoirs of Sir N. W. fVraxall, vol. i. pp. 214, 215. 
 
 155 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 temperament of the Countess of Albany at that date ; 
 and doubtless she would gladly have reigned for ever 
 as the acknowledged and flattered queen of a salon in 
 the aristocratic Rue de Bourgogne. 
 
 The sparkling repartee of Madame de Stael, the 
 cheerful and intellectual conversation of the novelist 
 Adele de Flahault, the recitations of Chenier and 
 Beaumarchais had the effect of investing her receptions 
 with a peculiar and an envied charm, so that the first 
 intellects of France were only too pleased to admire or 
 to be admired amid such brilliant and delightful com- 
 pany as that over which the still beautiful woman 
 presided with so much tactful grace. Witness in proof 
 of her power the following note from Beaumarchais, 
 who had been eventually persuaded by the Countess 
 to read aloud the manuscript of his Mere Coupable in 
 the presence of herself and her invited guests. 
 
 "Paris, February 5, 1791. 
 
 " Madame la Comtesse, — Since you are absolutely 
 set on hearing my very severe play, I cannot gainsay 
 your wish ; but please observe, that when I want you 
 all to laugh, it is to be with regular outbursts ; and 
 when you are to weep, it must be with real sobs. A 
 middle course is hateful to me. 
 
 " So ask whom you choose to my reading on Tuesday, 
 but keep away all your friends with callous hearts or 
 dried-up souls, who look down with contempt on these 
 sorrows we find so delicious. That class of person is 
 only fit to talk about the Revolution. But have some 
 sympathetic women and some men with real hearts ; 
 and then we can pour out tears in torrents (pleurons d 
 flein canal) I promise to give you a sweetly sorrowful 
 treat, and I am, Madame, your servant with respect, 
 
 " Beaumarchais " * 
 
 It is, however, very doubtful whether the Countess' 
 satisfaction in her daily life in Paris was shared by her 
 * Revue des deux Mondes, vol. xxxi., p. 594. 
 
 156 
 
Death of Charles-Edward Stuart! 
 
 male companion. In these great aristocratic and fashion- 
 able assemblies of the Rue de Bourgogne, the poet found 
 himself overlooked and overwhelmed. For the Parisians 
 knew little and cared still less about the history or fate 
 of the Italian drama, and not a few of them were wholly 
 unaware of the extreme importance of the haughty 
 Piedmontese count, who Was a poet and also (which to 
 them was perhaps in many cases his sole title to their 
 consideration) the official lover of that charming self- 
 styled Queen of England whose salon they chose to 
 haunt. Certain, of course, of the literary celebrities of 
 Paris were inclined to appraise the tragedian at his 
 proper worth, amongst them being Andre Chenier, 
 with whom Alfieri struck up a close friendship ; but, 
 broadly speaking, the conceited and self-conscious poet 
 found himself and his ideals sadly neglected by that 
 Parisian throng wherein he shone with a reflected glory 
 rather as the friend of Madame d' Albany than as the 
 modern representative of the old Roman T republican 
 spirit of his native Italy. Reduced chiefly to the intimate 
 society of Ippolito Pindemonte and other Italian friends, 
 strangers in Paris like himself, he must often have thought 
 regretfully of those long-past happy days in Siena, where 
 he had been the idol and the master of that charming 
 little band of provincial scholars and congenial com- 
 panions, the crocchiette saporito of his early days. 
 
 " I always envy you your coterie" so he writes to his 
 friend Bianchi, " whilst I lament my own misfortune 
 in having ever to be where I do not want to be. But 
 we shall meet again. I am sorry it will not be possible 
 for us to live together once more, but the only part of 
 Myself which owns any value, namely, my scribblings, 
 you will always be the first to peruse. And I am anxiously 
 awaiting an opportunity to send you those Odes, and 
 especially the Dialogue about the Friend, which I am 
 perhaps more impatient for you to possess than you to 
 receive." * 
 
 * Letter e Inedite, p. 203. 
 
 157 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 This last allusion is to a short work Alfieri was then 
 composing in order to render honour to the memory 
 of the late Francesco Gori, and this task known as the 
 Virtu Sconosciuta was amongst the various writings he 
 was then preparing for the press, for he passed much of 
 his time (which might otherwise have perhaps hung 
 heavy on his hands) at Didot's famous printing-house. 
 Thus did the pair spend the three years in the French 
 capital prior to their visit to England, in society and 
 surroundings that were probably as distasteful to the 
 man as they were congenial to the woman. 
 
 158 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE VISIT TO ENGLAND 
 
 " If England owned an oppressive government, both the country 
 and its people would be the most backward in the world. With 
 a vile climate and a poor soil, what it produces is without taste ; 
 and it is only the excellence of its government that has made 
 England a habitable country. Its natives are dull, without 
 genius or ideas, and dominated by the greed of money-making ; 
 for there is nothing in all England that cannot be obtained for 
 a smaller or greater quantity of money." — Louise, Comtesse 
 d' Albany, Souvenirs de V oyage en Angleterre 
 
 With the death of Charles-Edward Stuart the pair 
 seemed to be definitely fixed in Paris, whether Alfieri liked 
 it or not. The poet gave up for the present all hope of 
 returning to Italy, or even to Colmar, whence he removed 
 all his horses, dividing his stud between himself and the 
 Countess for the sake of convenience and economy. His 
 days were chiefly occupied in literary work (which in- 
 cluded the writing of the first and longer portion of his 
 celebrated Autobiography, to which we have so often 
 alluded) ; and in supervising the edition of his dramas 
 which Didot was engaged to publish. Little apparently 
 did either of the pair realise the strength and fury of the 
 rising political storm of the Revolution, whose first faint 
 rumblings were being dimly heard in the near distance by 
 all. Good republican as he fancied himself, Alfieri had 
 openly expressed his delight at the events of 1789, and 
 had even watched with approving eyes the destruction of 
 the Bastille with its evil memories of the tyranny of 
 French kings. As he gazed at the extraordinary spectacle 
 in the company of his friend Pindemonte, the poet con- 
 
 159 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 ceived the idea of celebrating so hopeful a sign of the re- 
 generation of the French people in some verses, which he 
 ultimately published under the title of Parigi Sbastig- 
 liata. The rapid course of the Revolution in Paris, 
 however, soon served to open his eyes and to change the 
 current of his views and sympathies. Alfieri was, indeed, 
 all too ready to rejoice and break into song when he 
 watched the power of the French monarchy crumble 
 away before the advance of the awakened people of 
 France ; but when the aforesaid great and glorious popu- 
 lace began to attack the privileges and property of his own 
 class, then the Revolution began to assume a very different 
 aspect in his eyes ; especially when the swiftly passing 
 events in Paris soon sent a far-reaching financial shock 
 throughout Europe, and the appearance of a paper 
 currency began to affect the republican count's pocket 
 in a most unpleasant manner. The attitude of the 
 Parisians towards the ancienne noblesse (of which class 
 Alfieri possessed to the full all the selfishness and pride) 
 began to annoy him, so that he complains bitterly of 
 Didot's impertinent workmen wasting their time in talk- 
 ing politics, instead of attending to their proper task of 
 producing quickly the immortal works of the great 
 Count Vittorio Alfieri. Nevertheless, if he were growing 
 dissatisfied and anxious in his mind, his concern was mild 
 when compared with that of the Countess, who suddenly 
 was brought to perceive the possibility of all her glitter- 
 ing fabric of social and intellectual pre-eminence that had 
 been built with such care being undermined and levelled 
 with the ground. Already Italy (whence she drew part of 
 her income) was feeling the financial strain ; whilst the 
 critical position of the French court and the rising demo- 
 cratic fury began to make her tremble for the safety of her 
 treasured pension. 
 
 Towards the close of 1789 Alfieri had the satisfaction 
 of receiving from Didot's press the completed edition of 
 his works that he had been superintending, but this 
 circumstance in no wise lessened his personal alarm for 
 160 
 
The Visit to England 
 
 the future or his blind and impotent rage against France 
 and the French nation. " Things were ever growing 
 worse " ; so he records in the concluding pages of the 
 first part of the Vita now being transcribed ; " and our 
 security and our peaceful existence in this modern Baby- 
 lon were being threatened. Every day our anxiety in- 
 creased, and we became more suspicious of the future 
 actions of this race of human apes, seeing that my Lady 
 and I myself were unfortunately in their midst, and were 
 therefore filled with a continual sense of apprehension and 
 helplessness." * However, Alfieri further on declares 
 that so long as he retains possession of his Lady, 
 all the rest is immaterial to him ; — " inasmuch as I live 
 in her and for her alone, so that truly no thought vexes 
 or terrifies me, save the idea of losing her ; nor do I pray 
 Heaven for any boon but that of being the first of us to be 
 taken from this world of sorrows." t Thus, of the brief 
 period spent in the house in the Rue de Bourgogne, 
 surrounded by all the wit and charm and luxury that 
 Paris could afford, two years were passed in a state of 
 serious alarm or uncertainty which sadly detracted from 
 the happiness of both. 
 
 As the political horizon in France grew darker and more 
 ominous, the fears of the pair were augmented, so that 
 they both became eager to find a permanent home 
 elsewhere. Already, even at her own table, the Countess 
 had received a sharp lesson concerning the propriety of 
 Alfieri and herself espousing the popular cause, when the 
 revolutionary painter, David, suddenly one day thundered 
 out his opinion that peace and prosperity would never- 
 more be restored in France till Queen Marie-Antoinette 
 was sent to the guillotine ; sl remark which must have 
 horrified the Countess and which certainly caused some 
 of her guests there and then to leave her house. Acting 
 on a sudden impulse caused by disgust at the present 
 trend of affairs in France, and being most uncomfortably 
 haunted by the prospect of the ultimate loss of her court 
 * Vita, vol. ii. p. 188. t Ibidem, p. 193. 
 
 L l6l 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 pension, the Countess, probably at Alfieri's own sugges- 
 tion, decided to pay a visit to England ; a visit which 
 might even under certain circumstances be prolonged 
 into a lengthy residence on these island-shores where, so 
 Alfieri was wont to declare, true Liberty alone could 
 flourish. 
 
 Having dismissed her servants and surrendered her lease 
 of the charming hotel in the Rue de Borgogne, the 
 Countess of Albany prepared to quit France, of course in 
 Alfieri's company, in order to visit the land over which 
 she still claimed to be a titular queen. If we are to credit 
 the statements set forth in the Fita,* this expedition was 
 due solely to the disturbed state of Paris combined with 
 his Lady's intense desire to see England. 
 
 Both these reasons seem probable enough so far as they 
 go, but there was an additional though carefully concealed 
 incentive to this tour, which is unrecorded in the Vita ; 
 and this was the hope, perhaps only a slight one, that the 
 Countess might obtain some financial aid from the British 
 Government as the widow of a grandson of King James 
 II. Towards the end of April 1791, therefore, Alfieri 
 and the Countess, with their horses and a considerable 
 train, first saw the white cliffs of Dover, and after landing 
 proceeded to London, where they remained for three 
 months. Here then the Countess was able to satisfy her 
 curiosity as to the nature of her late husband's vaunted 
 realms to the full ; whilst she herself, either unconscious 
 of any incongruity or indifferent to the old familiar claims 
 she had once heard advanced with such spirit in her own 
 little court of the Santi Apostoli in Rome, actually 
 decided to attend the court of George III. in her capacity 
 of Princess of Stolberg-Gedern. This step must, of course, 
 have been taken with the full approval of Alfieri, that 
 professional hater of queens and kings ; and it is, there- 
 fore, not unfair to surmise that her attendance at St. James' 
 must have had in view some other object than mere 
 curiosity. The poet himself, in the short account of this 
 
 * Vita, vol. ii. p. 201. 
 
 162 
 
The Visit to England 
 
 tL'lodf ^ttTT* S ? 6 FiUl > never menti °ns 
 tnis episode , but he does allude to the verv nr^t-;™ 
 
 state of the finances both of himself anJ Tof hi 7c££3T 
 
 aTfrom the r •""-^ 3p P eaI for financial 
 
 aid irom the Government is unknown, but it seems un 
 
 like y that she ever did so appeal directly, though she pro 
 
 bably made several efforts in a quiet my toTb She 
 
 a g n^ 0d aSo°n f 7^ ^ » he 
 
 any attention, for it is quite a remarkable circumstance 
 
 that so little notice should have been taken either nf 
 Allien or of the widow of that R.teiS^^hSd^ 
 than fifty years before (as many persons thcnt Z ^s t 
 have remembered clearly) had shaken the HanoVe^ian 
 throne to its foundations. Whatever hopes the Counted 
 may have originally built on this visi/fand we trulv 
 beheve pecuniary help to have been its first considerat ion) 
 she must have been grievously disappointed, for ceS 
 nothing substantial resulted therefrom. It is ouke Ivi 
 ^VTn H ttel ° f L ° rd Camelford's, of VgzZ 
 we shall allude presently), that Pitt was app 9 ro ched on 
 this subject by his cousin, the Lord Camelford just 
 
 S sTnh Wi ?° Ut S , UCC6SS; whilst the h sto lan 
 Lord Stanhope was distinctly of opinion that « no oresent 
 
 aid was afforded her .» f Rumours, however of her 
 appearance at the Usurper's court were mn mitt d to 
 Rome giving great offence to the old Cardinal-Kin7who 
 was already sufficiently provoked with his stS-kw 
 Z S C enSUln « winter Madame de Boigne in her 
 
 delightful Memoirs, speaks of the querulous scorn of the 
 
 £°nkS T\- Wh °u little dreamed how soon nd ho W 
 K^g Geti:. hlmSeIf W ° Uld bC acce P*« the b "4 of 
 
 "The Cardinal was at that time very indignant with 
 
 * Vita, vol. ii. p. 203. 
 
 t Edinburgh Review (1861), vol. cxiv. pp. i 45 - l82< 
 
 163 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 his sister-in-law, the Countess of Albany, who had ac- 
 cepted a pension from the Court of London, and he spoke 
 of the matter with the strong assumption of a wounded 
 royal dignity. So true is it that in times of revolution it 
 becomes very difficult to tell in advance whither one may 
 oneself be led." * 
 
 This unexpected presentation at court of the Pretender's 
 widow caused a mild flutter of excitement in the fashion- 
 able world of London, and Horace Walpole's comments 
 thereon to his friends, the Misses Berry, though fairly 
 well known to the general reader, cannot well be omitted 
 here, especially in view of the comparatively small interest 
 taken by English society as a whole in the presence of 
 Countess with her distinguished companion, whom most 
 persons in London for the sake of propriety affected to 
 regard as her second husband. 
 
 " Berkeley Square, Thursday, May 19, 1791. 
 " The Countess of Albany is not only in England, in 
 London, but at this very moment, I believe, in the 
 palace of St. James' ; not restored by as rapid a revo- 
 lution as the French, but, as was observed last night 
 at Lady Mount-Edgcumbe's, by that topsy-turvy-hood 
 that characterises the present age. Within these two 
 months the Pope has been burnt in Paris ; Madame du 
 Barry, mistress of Louise Quinze, has dined with the Lord 
 Mayor of London ; and the Pretender's widow is pre- 
 sented to the Queen of Great Britain. She is to be 
 introduced by her great-grandfather's niece, the young 
 Countess of Ailesbury.f That curiosity should bring her 
 hither, I do not quite wonder ; still less that she ab- 
 horred her husband ; but methinks it is not very well 
 bred to his family nor very sensible, but a new way of 
 passing eldest. — Apropos, I hear there is a medal struck at 
 Rome of her brother-in-law as Henry the Ninth. . . J 
 
 * Memoir es de la Comtesse de Boigne, vol. i. p. 108. 
 
 t Lady Anne Rawdon, daughter of John, Earl of Moira, and wife of 
 Thomas Brudenell, first Earl of Ailesbury. 
 
 X WatyoWs Letters (R. Bentley, 1840), vol. vi. p. 429. 
 
 164 
 
The Visit to England 
 
 This account is followed almost immediately by a later 
 and fuller description of the intruding " Queen of Eng- 
 land," sent by the writer (who could well recall the old 
 unpleasantly exciting days of the 'Forty-five) to his 
 friends who were then travelling in Italy. 
 
 " Well, I have had an exact account of the interview 
 of the two Queens, from one who stood close to them. 
 The Dowager was announced as Princess of Stolberg. 
 She was well dressed, and not at all embarassed. The 
 King talked to her a good deal, but always about her 
 passage, the sea, and general topics ; the Queen in the same 
 way but less. Then she stood between the Dukes of 
 Gloucester and Clarence, and had a good deal of conver- 
 sation with the former, who may perhaps have met her 
 in Italy. Not a word between her and the Princesses ; 
 nor did I hear of the Prince ; but he was there, and pro- 
 bably spoke to her. The Queen looked at her earnestly. 
 To add to the singularity of the day, it is the Queen's 
 birthday. Another odd accident ; at the Opera at the 
 Pantheon, Madame d'Albany was carried into the King's 
 box and sate there. It is not of a piece with her going to 
 court, that she seals with the royal arms. I have been 
 told to-night, that you will not be able to get a medal of 
 the Royal Cardinal, as very few were struck, and only for 
 presents, so pray give yourself but little trouble about 
 it." * 
 
 A few days later, the English arch-gossip of the 
 eighteenth century was privileged to see the soi-disante 
 queen with his own eyes, at Lady Ailesbury's small 
 party arranged especially to meet her. 
 
 " Well, I have seen Madame d'Albany, who has not a 
 rag of royalty about her. She has good eyes and teeth, 
 but I think can have had no more beauty than remains, 
 
 * Ibidem, pp. 425, 430. The Countess invariably used the royal arms 
 on her seal, generally impaled with those of Stolberg-Gedern, as may be 
 seen on several of her letters in the British Museum. 
 
 165 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 except youth. She is civil and easy, but German and 
 ordinary. Lady Ailesbury made a small assemblage for 
 her on Monday, and my curiosity is satisfied." * 
 
 Walpole's disparaging remarks on the personal appear- 
 ance of the Countess sound strange in contrast with 
 the universal tributes to her grace and beauty which 
 had been paid on the Continent to the enchanting 
 princess whom the great Alfieri had especially chosen 
 to immortalise as his " Donna Amata." Perhaps the 
 antiquated beau and dilettante was growing blind or 
 had not wholly cast off the slough of the old Whiggish 
 prejudices of the Jacobite scare, when nothing connected 
 with the exiled royal family could possibly be allowed to 
 own the smallest scrap of worth or charm. In any case, 
 he only appears flippant and supercilious in his remarks 
 about the Countess of Albany, as when he mentions that 
 at some party or other, " the late Queen of France, 
 Madame du Barry, was there ; and the late Queen of 
 England, Madame d'Albany, was not." t 
 
 The Jacobite anniversary of " White Rose Day," the 
 honoured birthday of James the Third, inspired Walpole 
 however, to observe that " Madame d' Albany might 
 have found plenty of white roses on her own tenth of 
 June (in the gardens of Strawberry Hill), but on that very 
 day she chose to go to see the King in the House of Lords, 
 with the crown on his head, proroguing the Parliament. 
 What an odd rencontre ! Was it philosophy or insensi- 
 bility ? I believe it is certain that her husband was in 
 Westminster Hall at the coronation." f 
 
 This circumstance is also described by Hannah More, 
 who was present at the King's prorogation of Parliament 
 in state on June 10, 1791. "The Bishop of London 
 carried us to hear the King make his speech in the House 
 of Lords. As it was quite new to me, I was very well 
 entertained ; but the thing that was most amusing was 
 to see, among the ladies, the Princes of Stolberg, Countess 
 * Ibidem, p. 436. t Ibidem, p. 444 
 
 166 
 
The Visit to England 
 
 of Albany, wife to the Pretender, sitting just at the foot 
 of the Throne, which she might once have expected to 
 have mounted ; and what diverted the party, when I put 
 them in mind of it, was that it happened to be the tenth 
 of June, the [Old] Pretender's birthday. I have the 
 honour to be very much like her, and this opinion was 
 confirmed yesterday when we met again." * 
 
 Yes, it was evident that the fascinating Countess of 
 Albany was at last beginning to lose her perishable gift of 
 beauty, to the gradual passing of which Alfieri so touch- 
 ingly and delicately refers in his Autobiography. In 
 Rome, in Florence, at Colmar and in Paris all witnesses 
 spoke of her surpassing charm and loveliness ; but the 
 English capital, which she came to visit on the eve of her 
 fortieth year, recognised in her naught else than an agree- 
 able but middle-aged woman, more German than French 
 in the judgment of so particular a critic as Horace Walpole. 
 Now, indeed, there was drawing nigh the time, as the 
 Countess herself observes in one of her letters to Teresa 
 Mocenni, to begin to forget the face and to think only of 
 the proper adornment of the soul. 
 
 Three months were thus consumed in this life of the 
 capital, and we venture to think most unsatisfactorily to 
 the pair, who evidently hoped to turn their visit to a more 
 substantial account. To Alfieri (whose presence in our 
 midst seems to have passed by almost unmarked by con- 
 temporary writers) the sojourn in a great city, which he 
 had already seen thrice before, possessed but small 
 interest. " Grown a little older " (so he records his 
 fleeting impressions in the Vita) " since my last two visits, 
 I was still able to admire, though not so heartily, the 
 moral effects of the English mode of government ; but I 
 was more than ever disgusted with the English climate 
 and the decadent mode of life : — Always eating, and 
 always sitting up till two or three o'clock in the morning, 
 a life opposed wholly to literature, study, and health. 
 We both grew speedily tired of our existence in England ; 
 # Hannah Mote's Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 343. 
 
 167 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 my Lady because she had satisfied her curiosity, and my- 
 self because I was much troubled with the gout, which 
 seems truly indigenous to that favoured isle." * 
 
 Before their departure, however, both Alfleri and the 
 Countess were contemplating a tour in Scotland, and it was 
 but the continuous cold and wet of the English July that 
 frustrated this scheme, which was at last exchanged for a 
 short tour in the west and midlands of England itself. It 
 would have been rather amusing to hear of the experiences 
 in the north of the widow of the British Pretender, for 
 there can be no question as to the reception the Countess 
 would have met with at the hands of the many Jacobites 
 of quality, who were still a social power in Edinburgh. 
 But whilst on the one hand, the old Scottish families with 
 Jacobite traditions and sympathies would perhaps have 
 given some unpleasant proof of their opinion of the taste 
 and hardihood of the lady who had deserted "Bonnie 
 Prince Charlie," and was now travelling with his sup- 
 planter in the ancient realm of the Royal Stuarts ; on the 
 other hand, the Whig adherents in the great towns would 
 probably have hastened to do her honour, provided they 
 were willing to accept the fictitious theory of the lady's 
 marriage with her male companion. In any case, the 
 projected journey never was accomplished, and the pair, 
 rather unwillingly, left our shores with Scotland still 
 unvisited. 
 
 Before setting forth on their expedition to the midlands, 
 the Countess paid a brief visit to Park Place, as the guest 
 of General Conway, apparently the only English country- 
 house she ever honoured thus with her presence. Evi- 
 dently, the life led here did not greatly rouse her admira- 
 tion, for she describes it as very dull and wearisome for a 
 busy person like herself, " since we passed all our time in 
 each other's society. We breakfasted together at ten ; 
 we walked about together for a couple of hours ; we dined 
 at four ; and we walked about again together ; we then 
 sate down to tea, and worked until the supper hour — 
 * Vita, vol. ii. p. 202. 
 
 168 
 
The Visit to England 
 
 which was half-past ten ; and at midnight we went to 
 bed. This mode of living would answer very well with 
 people who understood each other perfectly and were all 
 intimate friends ; but it is not suitable for strangers meet- 
 ing thus for no particular purpose." * 
 
 This condemnation of the inanity of English country- 
 house life is drawn from an account written by the 
 Countess herself and called by her " Souvenirs de Voyage 
 en Angleterre" of which the original manuscript is pre- 
 served in the Musee Fabre at Montpellier. Some 
 writers have professed to find a good deal of valuable 
 criticism in these memorials of her tour in England, and 
 speak of her keen powers of observation and her original 
 views of things English. But as a matter of fact, this 
 little work (which is written in bad French and positively 
 swarms with every sort of mis-spelling, for the authoress 
 seems wholly unable to grasp the elements of any English 
 place-name) can boast of no special value or interest 
 except in so far as it was composed by Louise Countess of 
 Albany. Her general observations are common-place 
 to the last degree, and might easily have been inscribed 
 by any intelligent and educated foreigner who was 
 travelling for the first time in England and was keeping a 
 journal for private amusement. A few bald speculations 
 and aphorisms on the advantages of the form of govern- 
 ment then prevalent in this country merely form a dull 
 rechauffe of Alfieri's trite and tedious opinions on the 
 same subject. It is the fashion to quote certain passages 
 from this trivial journal, and as it is certainly interesting 
 to trace from its pages the movements of the Countess 
 and Alfieri, as they hurriedly passed through what they 
 considered the most interesting spots in the South of 
 England, we shall follow the movements of the pair by 
 means of the Souvenirs de Voyage. 
 
 On July 22, the Countess and Alfieri arrived at Oxford, 
 where they visited several of the colleges, including New 
 
 * Leon-G. Pelissier, Lettres et Ecrits divers de la^Comtesse Alb any ^ 
 pp. 28-37. 
 
 169 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 College, which the lady tells us dates from the seventh 
 century, since it contains a tomb of that period. Per- 
 haps she confuses New College with Christ Church, in 
 the latter of which she was much struck at the arrange- 
 ment whereby all the inmates of this educational founda- 
 tion had their places carefully assigned according to 
 social rank, the sons of peers even dining at a special 
 table. From Oxford the Countess drove over to inspect 
 Blenheim Palace, which she calls a grand fdte de -pierres ; 
 and a few days later she visited Stowe House, near 
 Buckingham. She complains of the melancholy and 
 deserted air of these English country palaces, and con- 
 siders the French chateaux brighter and more attractive 
 in every way. On July 25, the pair travelled, by way of 
 Northampton, to Birmingham, where they lodged in the 
 same inn as the judges who were then engaged in trying 
 Dr. Priestley and others for treason, and as a result of this 
 chance incident, the Countess makes a few common- 
 place remarks on the ideas and position of the " Dissi- 
 denters," as she calls them, who cannot enter Parliament 
 owing to the influence of the privileged Anglican com- 
 munion, which is the dominant religion of the country : — 
 " According to the simple light of reason, it would seem 
 that all religions ought to be treated on an equality ; 
 but it must be that the English have discovered that such 
 a state of things would be injurious to their government, 
 since they make so many distinctions. The Presbyterians 
 are even more tyrannical than the Catholics, who have 
 been treated like them since the Revolution of 1688." 
 
 From Birmingham the Countess went to Worcester, 
 passing through " the most lovely country imaginable," 
 and sleeping at Upton on the way. She found Worcester 
 more cheerful and better built than London, as is the 
 case, she remarks, with all the provincial towns. Next 
 they proceeded to Gloucester, by way of Newport in 
 Monmouthshire, through a district very rich in pastures 
 and swarming with sheep and cattle, of which the 
 numbers feeding in the meadows seem to have caused 
 170 
 
The Visit to England 
 
 her great surprise. At Gloucester, we are informed that 
 " the very beautiful Gothic cathedral church was built 
 in the ninth century, and formerly belonged to a monas- 
 tery that was destroyed by Henry VIII." Here also the 
 pair visited some prisons built on the model of Mr. 
 Hoart {sic), the late philanthropist.* 
 
 On July 29, the Countess reached Bristol, " a very 
 ancient, large and busy city, situated on two rivers 
 leading to the sea . . . but squalid and dismal like all 
 old towns." From Bristol she went to see Lord de 
 Clifford's fine seat of Kingsweston, where she admired 
 the distant views of the Welsh hills to be seen from its 
 terraces overlooking the Bristol Channel. On August 1, 
 Bath was reached, where the Countess was greatly struck 
 with the regularity and elegance of the architecture ; 
 whilst the sight of this abode of wealth and fashion, then 
 at the zenith of its reputation, caused her to inscribe some 
 reflections in her Souvenirs, which we quote here. 
 
 " The town, which is the best built in England (at 
 least in the parts I visited) is always increasing in size and 
 beauty, so as to attract the world of fashion, for its houses 
 are all private residences and it has no factories. In 
 winter it is filled with visitors. The English are very fond 
 of watering-places, in hopes of finding more amusement 
 there, for they are ever fleeing from the ennui wherewith 
 they are devoured. There is no nation so given to pur- 
 suing pleasure and distraction, or yet which carries more 
 dullness into its pleasures and has less method in amusing 
 itself. The women who are supposed to enjoy the quiet 
 and the course of waters at Bath are extremely dissipated. 
 When in London, they never pass a day in their own homes ; 
 even the old ladies with raddled and faded faces still 
 consider themselves ornaments to a party. This attitude 
 I attribute to the dull discomfort of their own homes ; 
 for they can only see their friends in crowds of an evening 
 at eleven, or else they must remain at home, a prey to 
 * John Howard. 
 
 171 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 boredom. They must, therefore, perforce go where all 
 the world meets, or otherwise they would be left severely- 
 alone. They spend four months of the year in London 
 and are lost to sight during the other eight, unless one 
 goes to seek them in the country, which occasionally 
 happens, but not often ; and even there they only repeat 
 the life of the city. For one goes to bed in the country as 
 late as in town, and does not obtain the privilege of breath- 
 ing the morning air. There is no real liberty, for all 
 dine together, and consort together, to their mutual 
 weariness." 
 
 The Countess next passed through Wiltshire, sleeping a 
 night at the old coaching inn at Marlborough, " one of 
 the best hostelries in England." She was struck by the 
 poverty and wretchedness of the inhabitants in these 
 rural districts, and at the rags and nakedness of the 
 children in the villages. This sad state of things in so 
 wealthy a country, she attributes to the chicanery prac- 
 tised in regard to the heavy taxes imposed. She reaches 
 Windsor on August 7, having rested one night at Reading. 
 Here she enjoyed seeing the pictures and works of art in 
 the royal Castle, but did not think the view from the great 
 terrace so fine or expansive as that from the palace of St. 
 Germains. 
 
 Quitting Windsor on August 8, the pair set out to 
 inspect Sir John Herschel's obervatory at Salthill, where 
 the great astronomer and his sister received these dis- 
 tinguished visitors with much kindness, showing them 
 various instruments and telling them much that was new 
 and interesting about the moon and stars. " He is a 
 simple, unpretentious man," remarks the Countess, " and 
 he made me see without difficulty such objects as might 
 interest me, as though they were the most ordinary things 
 in the world. I have always noticed that true worth is 
 modest/and certainly Archel (sic) is that." 
 
 The following day the Countess went to Hampton 
 Court, where she admired Mantegna's cartoons, but 
 172 
 
The Visit to England 
 
 thought the park ill-kept, and was displeased with the 
 grande enfillade of endless small rooms inside the palace 
 itself. From Hampton Court the Countess and Alfleri 
 returned to London by way of Richmond. 
 
 This journal concludes with a series of general remarks, 
 none of them very flattering, upon the habits, ideas, and 
 behaviour of the English nation. After complaining of 
 the late hours (which both she and Alfieri especially de- 
 tested), of the odious climate, of the enormous taxes and 
 consequent dearness of everything, of the universal worship 
 of money, and of the national craving for gaiety and diver- 
 sion that all vainly strive to attain, the Countess concludes 
 with an allusion to English views of matrimony : — 
 "The English husbands are exacting and harsh, whilst 
 their wives are for the most part more discreet than in 
 continental lands, since they run more risk. The very 
 arrangement of their houses prevents them from receiving 
 anybody at home without the knowledge of their servants 
 or husbands. They are usually good wives and good 
 mothers. But they love the gaming-table, and the 
 great ladies are much too fond of gadding. London is 
 wholly ignorant of intimate society, or of its peculiar 
 charm. It is a case of family life with husband and 
 children, for the claims of parents are absolutely ignored, 
 at least in the circles that I have frequented." The 
 Countess ends her Souvenirs with a fling at the national 
 ignorance concerning works of art, although Englishmen 
 are much given to buying pictures of whose merits they 
 have little understanding. 
 
 We repeat, it is solely as an account written by Louise, 
 Countess of Albany, that this ill-written and ill-con- 
 structed essay or journal possesses any value, although the 
 description of the rapid journey of three weeks is curious 
 as a specimen of the tours then made in England by 
 distinguished foreigners in order to gain a closer acquain- 
 tance with the life, scenery, and people of our island. 
 
 On August 20, after four months spent in England, the 
 pair were ready to leave for Dover, so as to return to the 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Continent, with the intention of making a short tour in 
 Holland before re-incarcerating themselves (as Alfieri 
 expresses it) in Paris. They duly reached Dover, where 
 an unexpected incident befel the poet, which it is diffi- 
 cult to know whether to call comical or pathetic. At the 
 very moment when Alfieri, who had gone ahead, was super- 
 intending matters connected with the passage to Calais, 
 he caught the eye of his former charmer (whose very 
 existence he had apparently well-nigh forgotten), Penelope 
 Pitt, the divorced wife of Lord Ligonier and now married 
 to a person in humble life. The lady was standing among 
 the small crowd of idle sight-seers that always collects 
 on the pier to witness the comings and goings of the 
 packet-boats, and Alfieri noted at once that her beauty 
 seemed in no wise impaired by the lapse of nearly twenty 
 years. " At first," he relates, " I thought I must be 
 dreaming, but I gazed steadily, and then she smiled sig- 
 nificantly, so that I was reassured. I cannot describe all 
 the varied emotions and feelings that this apparition 
 caused me. But I said not a word, and only entered the 
 ship to await my Lady's arrival." 
 
 Alfieri, haunted by the face and smile of poor Penelope, 
 could not resist sending her a letter full of kind messages 
 and good advice from Calais, to which the lady duly sent a 
 reply, that reached him at Brussels. In this letter Pene- 
 lope thanked him for his warm sympathy and his well- 
 meant but wholly superfluous advice to mend her ways. 
 She was happy, so she declared, in her present husband, 
 and was rather inclined to bless Alfieri for having been the 
 cause of her removal years ago from a sphere of artificial 
 and fashionable life, which she had never regretted. The 
 writer concluded with the following allusion to himself and 
 the Countess, which is not without a spice of gentle irony. 
 
 "... Allow me in my turn to assure you of the real 
 pleasure that the news of your present happiness causes 
 me, a happiness that I am sure you deserve. During the 
 last two years I have often been pleased to hear you spoken 
 
 «74 
 
The Visit to England 
 
 of both in Paris and London, where your writings (which 
 I have not yet been able to procure) are admired and 
 appreciated. It is said you are attached to the Princess 
 with whom you travel, and judging from her agreeable 
 and intelligent face, she seems well fitted to satisfy a 
 heart so sensitive and fastidious as your own. They say, 
 too, that she is afraid of you (and there I clearly recognise 
 your power !) for without desiring it, or even perhaps 
 without perceiving it, you inspire this feeling in all who 
 love you. . . . 
 
 " Dover, August 26. Penelope." * 
 
 Although the tone of her letter is generous and friendly, 
 in spite of its excusable under-current of mild irony, 
 Alfieri was deeply offended by this reply, and in his 
 Autobiography he speaks with extreme annoyance of 
 Penelope's "strange, obstinate and evil-disposed charac- 
 ter, which is happily rare in her class of life, especially in 
 her own sex." 
 
 # Vita, vol. ii. pp. 204-208. As to the fear inspired by Alfieri, the 
 sonnet beginning 
 
 Che feci P Ohime ! da que' begli occhi un flume 
 Uscia di pianti, e la cagioiC io rCera ? 
 
 — Poesie Amorose, p. 133. 
 clearly proves that this harsh and hot-tempered egotist occasionally bullied 
 his " Donna Araata " till she shed tears. 
 
 l 75 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 CASA AL^IJE.RI 
 
 'Twas yesterday, but there have passed me over 
 
 Almost three lustres, Lady, since the day 
 
 I paced these streets a solitary rover, 
 
 Wending a dreary and indifferent way. 
 
 Whilst thou, in convent garth, far from thy lover, 
 
 Obtained'st such balm of restfulness as lay 
 
 In thinking that thy spouse could ne'er discover 
 
 Thy sad retreat, nor cruel force display. 
 
 Thou hadst indeed some jot of consolation, 
 
 When naught but tumult filled my lonely breast ; 
 
 And Florence saw my tears and agitation. 
 
 — Now all is changed ; the city's self is blest ; 
 
 And we, united after separation, 
 
 Can smile and make of ancient ills our jest.* 
 
 Sonnet of V. Alfieri addressed, to the Countess of Albany 
 on their return to Florence in the autumn of 1792 
 
 Landing at Ostend the Countess and Alfieri made a 
 short tour in the Netherlands, visiting Antwerp, The 
 Hague, Amsterdam and other places of interest. At 
 the first-mentioned town the sight of the many fine 
 paintings by Rubens seems to have inspired the brief 
 monograph on that artist, which ranks amongst the 
 Countess' few original compositions.f Some weeks 
 were then spent (apparently without the presence of 
 her cavalier) at Brussels in order to see her mother and 
 her unmarried sister Gustavine, to whom the Countess 
 was warmly attached ; and towards the end of October 
 the pair were once more in that " Cloaca maxima " of 
 Paris, which in spite of all drawbacks they must have 
 
 * E mi par ieri, e al terza or mane a (Poesie J morose, p. 239). 
 
 t Pelissier, Lettres et Ecrits Divers de la Comtesse d? Albany, pp. 37-40. 
 
 176 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 preferred as a place of residence to London, for a new 
 and " very handsome and convenient " house in the 
 Rue de Provence was rented and furnished by them 
 early in the year 1792, the old existence of social and 
 intellectual amusement being resumed. 
 
 The death of Alfieri's mother in April 1792, put an 
 end for the time being to the poet's expressed intention 
 of returning soon to Italy ; but the violent events of 
 that fateful summer, which saw the utter downfall of 
 the French monarchy, were finally sufficient to drive 
 the pair from the city, which they had apparently still 
 decided to inhabit for an indefinite period. The terrible 
 event of the storming of the Tuileries, on the night of 
 August 10, was what ultimately decided both the Countess 
 and Alfieri to beat as hasty a retreat as possible from the 
 devoted city. " August 10th," writes Alfieri to Mario 
 Bianchi, " is a day most fatal to Liberty, for therein 
 France has by a second revolution passed from tolerable 
 anarchy (if ever such a thing can be) to the monstrous 
 tyranny of the vilest and most bloodthirsty of mobs." * 
 Their one thought was now to remove from Paris ere 
 it might become too late, and frantic efforts were made 
 to obtain the necessary passports, which was in itself 
 no easy task. The account of the departure from Paris, 
 then in the throes of revolution, affords one of the most 
 graphic incidents in the whole of Alfieri's Autobiography ; 
 and we think it best to let the poet tell in his own words 
 the story of the deadly risks both he and the Countess 
 ran, before escaping from the midst of the horrors that 
 were beginning to accumulate daily to end in the in- 
 discriminate massacres of September.! 
 
 " After the raid on the Tuileries, I thought of nought 
 except how to save my Friend from the perils that 
 threatened us both. I would not delay a single day, 
 
 * Letter e Inedite, p. 215. 
 
 t Fita, vol. ii. pp. 213-221. A letter to the Abbe di Caluso, describing 
 the events of August 10, is included in the Appendix to the Vita, pp. 212- 
 217. 
 
 M 177 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 and on the 12th of August all our preparations were 
 completed. There was, however, one great obstacle 
 to overcome, that of obtaining passports to leave Paris 
 and the kingdom. I moved heaven and earth for two 
 or three days, and at last on the 15th we secured them 
 as foreigners ; I from the Venetian Envoy, and my 
 Friend from the Minister of Denmark, the only envoys 
 of Louis XVI. still remaining, for the King had long 
 been no more than a shadow. We had still more diffi- 
 culty in obtaining passports for our servants, whose 
 height, colour of hair, age, sex, and I know not what, 
 had all to be described. Furnished with all these symbols 
 of slavery, we fixed our departure for Monday, August 
 20th ; but when all was ready, a natural sense of fear 
 made us hasten our exit by two days, and so we started 
 on the evening of Saturday, the 18th. 
 
 " We had scarcely reached the Barriere Blanche, the 
 nearest gate for us to take the St. Denis road towards 
 Calais, whither we were bound so as to fly with all speed 
 out of this unhappy land, than we were accosted by three 
 or four of the National Guards with an officer. After 
 examining our passports, they were inclined to open to 
 us the barrier of this vast prison, when we saw issue from 
 a foul inn near the gate some cut-throats and rascals, 
 all tipsy, savage and ragged. When these creatures 
 perceived our two carriages loaded with boxes and trunks, 
 with two maids and three men-servants, they set to 
 exclaiming that all the rich nobles wanted to desert 
 Paris and to carry away their hoards, whilst leaving the 
 people in misery and misfortune. Then there arose 
 an argument between our handful of National Guards 
 and this mob of rascals, the former being for letting us 
 pass and the latter for our detention. I leaped out of 
 the carriage into the middle of the road, and with my 
 seven passports in my hand began to gesticulate, shout 
 and make more noise than the Frenchmen themselves 
 (the only way to deal effectually with Frenchmen). 
 They read the papers one after another, or rather, listened 
 1/8 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 to those of their number who could read. Furious and 
 boiling with rage, I either ignored or despised my im- 
 minent danger at this moment. Thrice I snatched 
 my papers from their hands, crying aloud at the top of 
 my voice : ' Listen ! Listen ! My name is Alfieri. 
 I am an Italian and not a Frenchman. Tall, thin, pale, 
 red-haired. Look well at me, and see it is I. I have 
 a passport, and it is genuine. I obtained it from those 
 who were authorised to supply it. I have permission 
 to pass, and, by God, I will pass ! ' 
 
 " All this time a crowd of persons surrounded our 
 two carriages, some of them crying out : ' We ought 
 to set fire to the coaches ! ' and others, ' We'll stone 
 them ! ' Most of them exclaimed, ' They are rich 
 fugitive nobles, so we must bring them to the Hotel 
 de Ville for trial.' 
 
 " Finally, the feeble assistance of the four National 
 Guards, who from time to time let fall a word or two 
 in our favour, the noise I made with my stentorian voice, 
 my waving aloft the passports, and especially the half- 
 hour consumed in these arguments served to weary 
 these tiger-monkeys (scimio-tigri), whose opposition began 
 to flag. The Guards now signed to me to re-enter the 
 coach, where I had left my Friend in a state of mind 
 that can be imagined. I mounted the step, the postil- 
 lions leaped on the horses, the gate was thrown wide 
 open, and we emerged at full gallop, j arsued by the 
 yells, insults and curses of the mob. 
 
 " It was a mercy for us that the suggestion to take us 
 to the Hotel de Ville was not acted upon. Arriving 
 there with our two coaches and baggage, and with all 
 the appearance of escaping nobles, we should have run 
 imminent risk. Once brought before those rascals of 
 the Municipality, we should nevermore have quitted 
 Paris, for we should have been sent to prison, and a 
 fortnight later to the guillotine. 
 
 " Escaping thus from that Hell, on the third day we 
 
 reached Calais, after producing our papers more than 
 
 179 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 forty times on the road. I have since learnt that we 
 were the first foreigners to fly from Paris and from France 
 after the catastrophe of August loth. Wherever we 
 had to present our passports, all who perused them 
 seemed petrified at the first glance, for they had been 
 printed in the King's name, which had later been erased. 
 All the officials were either ignorant or ill-informed 
 of the late events in Paris and were consequently much 
 agitated at the sight of these papers. 
 
 " See then under what auspices I finally quitted 
 France, with the sincere hope and resolve nevermore 
 to set foot in that country ! " * 
 
 This sudden and rapid flight from the French capital 
 was, as Alfieri avers, only undertaken in the nick of time, 
 for two days later, on the exact date for which their 
 departure had been originally fixed, the representatives 
 of the very people, who had lately granted them leave 
 to quit Paris, appeared at the deserted house in the Rue 
 de Provence with an order for the detention of the 
 Countess of Albany ; and it needs little speculation 
 to imagine what the fate of the Stuart Queen would have 
 been, had she once fallen into the blood-stained hands 
 of the Jacobins. Finding both Alfieri and the Countess 
 already flown, the officials of the new Republic seized 
 upon the furniture, the horses and the libraries of the 
 absent pair ; nor could any amount of application made 
 later from time to time ever succeed in obtaining their 
 return or any sum in compensation for the property 
 thus forcibly taken. As it was, the loss of their belong- 
 ings, and especially that of Alfieri's valuable library, 
 seemed trivial in the eyes of the owners, who were only 
 too thankful to have escaped with whole skins, especially 
 when they learned a little later of the fate which befel 
 the Comte de Flahault and many another of their friends 
 who perished in the September massacres. 
 
 It seems to have been Alfieri's first intention to make 
 
 * Vita, vol. ii. pp. 213-221. 
 
 l8o 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 his way from Calais to England, but finding war already 
 declared between France and Britain, he and the Countess 
 proceeded to Brussels, whence Madame d'Albany, 
 greatly unnerved by her late experiences, subsequently 
 retired to a chateau near Ath, where there resided her 
 third sister, Francoise-Claudia, the wife of Count 
 d'Arberg and later the faithful friend and companion 
 of the Empress Josephine.* The month of September 
 was spent in this pleasant country retreat, which was 
 situated not far from Mons and the scenes of her child- 
 hood, whilst by the beginning of October she was 
 sufficiently recovered from her late alarms and fatigue 
 to start on the proposed journey back to Italy. This step 
 had been urged by Alfieri, who had been busily employed 
 during his Belgian residence in writing the most violent 
 diatribes in verse against France, Frenchmen, and the 
 French Revolution, that were subsequently included 
 in his celebrated medley known as the Miso-Gallo. 
 Travelling by way of Spa, Frankfort, and Innspruck 
 the pair at last were delighted to find themselves once 
 more on Italian soil, with the barrier of the Alps placed 
 between themselves and a nation in the torturing throes 
 of revolution ; and whilst at Verona, Alfieri met with 
 his old friend Ippolito Pindemonte, to whom he expressed 
 his deep regret at having composed his approving ode 
 on the fall of the Bastille. At this point Alfieri and the 
 Countess had to make up their minds as to their future 
 plans, which was no easy matter, seeing that their income 
 had been already reduced by one half since the late 
 troubles in France, and that there was every prospect 
 of its diminishing yet more rapidly in the face of a possible 
 French invasion of Italy. From the following letter to 
 Bianchi it will be seen that the return to Florence and 
 their decision to settle in that city were the results of 
 chance rather than of desire or sentiment, as has some- 
 times been supposed. 
 
 * For some account of this lady the reader is referred to Madame Ducrest's 
 Memoirs of the Empress Josephine. (London, 1894.) 
 
 181 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 " Florence, November 6, 1792. 
 " Dearest Friend, — Here I am since yesterday. I 
 received your very welcome letter at Verona. We set 
 out thence straight for Tuscany, on account of the vast 
 number of foreigners who are crowding into Italy, a 
 circumstance that has urged us forward to look out for 
 a house. But we are already too late to get one at Pisa, 
 where my Lady wanted to settle, for every house there 
 is let, and at ridiculously high rents. So we came on 
 here direct from Pistoja, and are now searching for a 
 place to lay our heads. Were I alone, I should quickly find 
 something, for a single man always lights upon a lodging, 
 but it is not so with my Lady, who is accustomed to be 
 housed suitably. Much time and patience are being 
 expended, before we can get properly accommodated, 
 nor do I know if we shall ever find what we require 
 here. . . . 
 
 " My Lady thanks both yourself and Teresa Mocenni 
 warmly for your kind messages, and is longing to make 
 your acquaintance." * 
 
 Meanwhile, Alfieri and the Countess were remaining 
 in great discomfort at the inn of the Acquila, where the 
 poet complains to his friend, Mario Bianchi, of the bitter 
 cold of the Tuscan winter, which was in those days 
 untempered by the appliances used in northern countries. 
 Later, they seem to have left the inn, and to have taken 
 a small furnished apartment by the month, where they 
 were equally uncomfortable. 
 
 " We have five servants who cannot speak a word of 
 Italian to add to our troubles," writes Alfieri to his 
 crony at Siena. " We have been obliged to buy every- 
 thing, and to provide ourselves with linen, wherever 
 we may go eventually, for as fugitives from Paris we are, 
 so to speak, half-naked, for all our furniture, our books 
 and our belongings are left behind there." t 
 
 * Lettere Inedite, pp. 216, 217. t Ibidem. 
 
 182 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 The physical discomfort of the Countess, in a town 
 which it would seem she was not over-anxious to inhabit, 
 was increased by the reports, perhaps exaggerated, of 
 the terrible plight of her relatives in France and Flanders, 
 the Comtesse d'Arberg being forced to take refuge in 
 the kingdom of Holland. In this state of agitation and 
 uncertainty the winter of 1 792-1 793 ebbed away, still 
 leaving the pair without a home of their own. Alfieri 
 himself passed the time in composing more diatribes 
 against the French to add to his collection of the Miso- 
 Gallo, and the Countess in writing lengthy letters to 
 her many absent friends. The former suffered a good 
 deal from attacks of gout, brought on largely by his 
 own imprudence in spite of the warnings of his lady, 
 " who scolds me, because I am ill, as if I were to blame 
 for it ! " In June, the poet writes to Bianchi saying, 
 " 1 am fairly well in body, but very ill in spirit. Un- 
 certainty is one of the worst torments a man can 
 experience, and especially in my own case, for I am so 
 impatient. I am uncertain as to where I shall settle ; 
 whether I shall ever see my books again, which have 
 all been seized in Paris ; whether I shall have bread 
 to eat ; or a head on my shoulders ; or a roof or 
 place where I can consider myself free, secure and 
 independent." * 
 
 It was at this point, soon after their return to Florence, 
 that the Countess made yet another indirect appeal to 
 the British Government for financial support, to fill the 
 void left by the fall of the French monarchy, whereby 
 she had definitely and for ever lost her annuity of 60,000 
 livres. There happened to be staying in Florence at 
 this moment Thomas Pitt of Boconnoc, Lord Camelford, 
 cousin of the Prime Minister William Pitt, who had 
 himself, if we may so conclude from the terms of his 
 cousin's letter quoted below, expressed some sympathy 
 in the affairs of the Countess of Albany during her visit 
 to London in the previous year. To Lord Camelford, 
 
 * Ibidem, 
 
 183 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 therefore, the distressed lady now applied, giving him 
 a most pitiful, but also (it must be admitted) a somewhat 
 exaggerated account of the straitness of her circumstances. 
 Her appeal was instantly championed by the good- 
 natured Cornish peer, who composed the following letter 
 to his less susceptible relation : 
 
 " Florence, December 14, 1792. 
 " My dear Sir, — I write to acquit myself of a com- 
 mission I have received from the Comtesse Albany, who 
 desires to assure you that the kind part you were so good 
 to take in her business, both when she left England and 
 since, lays her under obligations that she shall never 
 forget.* 
 
 " After what is past, I conclude it is in vain to hope 
 the subject can be renewed in any shape hereafter. It 
 is impossible for me, however, to be witness to the situa- 
 tion of that unfortunate lady without reflecting upon 
 the effect her present distress must produce upon every 
 feeling mind in Europe. By her flight from France 
 (where, had she remained two days longer, her certain 
 imprisonment had been the consequence, and she would 
 have been included in the general massacre) she has lost 
 every resource from that country. Driven afterwards 
 from her family at Brussels, from the apprehensions of 
 what has actually taken place immediately after, she has 
 taken refuge here as the only asylum that could afford 
 her any promise of safety ; and here she lives upon the 
 debris of what she could save out of her fortune at a 
 sequin a day. I need make no comments. Your generous 
 mind will supply them. If she had a pension of ^1000, 
 she would be happy. Pardon me, my dear Sir, if I cannot 
 resist the impulse that has made me state this to you, 
 having no means of laying it before the Person whose 
 good heart would, I am sure, be not insensible to it, if 
 he could be witness to it as I am. It is a strange world, 
 
 # See chapter ix. 
 
 184 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 and the vicissitudes of it are striking in a manner never 
 before experienced. 
 
 " Ever most affectionately yours, 
 
 " Camelford." * 
 
 The writer of this letter died himself a few weeks later 
 of the gout at Pisa, apparently before ever he dispatched 
 his appeal on behalf of the Countess of Albany, and it 
 seems to have been forwarded eventually to Pitt through 
 the Earl of Bristol. No notice appears to have been taken 
 of its contents, perhaps from sheer forgetfulness or in- 
 difference on the part of Pitt ; or possibly because that 
 shrewd politician was already aware that the financial 
 position of the Countess was not quite so desperate as 
 she declared, seeing that for the present at all events 
 her annuity from the Cardinal of York was being paid 
 to her regularly. In any case, it is clear that, despite 
 her continual efforts, the Countess signally failed during 
 these years to obtain any pension out of the Privy Purse 
 of George III. 
 
 It was whilst Alfieri and the Countess were remaining 
 on at Florence, homeless and disturbed both by private 
 and political cares, that there stepped into their joint 
 existence a certain young man, whose advent was destined 
 to prove of the first importance to both. This was 
 none other than the French painter, Francois-Xavier- 
 Pascal Fabre, of Montpellier, who was first introduced 
 to the notice of Alfieri by that curious English dilettante 
 and wanderer on the Continent, Frederick-Augustus 
 Hervey, Earl of Bristol and Bishop of Derry, whom the 
 poet had pithily described as " a lunatic, but a lunatic 
 of genius and education." Fabre, of whose work the 
 Earl-Bishop was an enthusiastic admirer, had barely 
 reached his twenty-seventh year, having been born at 
 Montpellier in 1766. The son of a drawing-master, 
 the young Francois-Xavier had studied his art with 
 
 * Earl Stanhope, Life of William Pitt, vol. ii. pp. 181, 182. The 
 " Person 99 with the good heart is, of course, King George III. 
 
 185 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 marked success under the great painter, David, gaining 
 the Prix de Rome at the age of twenty-one ; a circum- 
 stance which necessitated his residence in Rome itself. 
 Here his course of study was most unpleasantly inter- 
 rupted by the tumults, in the spring of 1793, that arose 
 out of the attempt of the new minister of the French 
 Republic, Ugo Basseville, to spread abroad revolutionary 
 ideas amongst the subjects of Pope Pius VI. As a result 
 of these riots and the assaults of the Roman populace 
 upon the French Academy, its pupils had to flee ; whilst 
 so strongly Royalist were the views held by this young 
 plebeian artist, that later he refused to return to the 
 city, where his native country was now represented by 
 another envoy of the detested Republic. He therefore 
 drifted to Florence, supporting himself by his paintings, 
 and especially by his excellent portraits, which are far 
 superior to his rather cold, pedantic, mannered composi- 
 tions, conceived in the pseudo-classical style of his master, 
 David. As a rising painter of undoubted genius, but 
 chiefly as a young Frenchman who abhorred and abused 
 the new government of his native land in terms of un- 
 measured bitterness, Fabre was at once received warmly 
 by the author of the Miso-Gallo, now consumed with 
 his fury of fear and hatred against the present rulers of 
 France. A commission to paint his portrait, and also 
 that of the Countess of Albany, must have speedily 
 followed the first introduction of the artist to the poet, 
 for as early as July 12, 1793, Bianchi is informed in a letter 
 that " a painter of considerable reputation, an exile from 
 Rome during the late troubles, is now painting my 
 portrait." The picture here mentioned is evidently 
 that now preserved in the French Room of the Uffizi 
 Gallery in Florence, which represents Alfieri with his 
 flowing reddish hair, his wide prominent blue eyes, his 
 delicate fingers adorned with the great cameo ring with 
 Dante's bust that he always wore, and the queer pictu- 
 resque blue cloak lined with scarlet that the poet was 
 wont to affect. It is a speaking portrait of a great and 
 186 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 interesting, if not an estimable personality ; and though 
 this likeness was made when the original was in his forty- 
 fifth year, there still lingers some of the fire and charm 
 of youth about the handsome, selfish proud face, which 
 gives us a clue to the extraordinary fascination the great 
 Italian tragedian was wont to exercise over so many 
 adoring women, of whom the Countess of Albany was the 
 last and the most celebrated. 
 
 That the illustrious sitter was satisfied with this portrait 
 becomes clear from the fine sonnet, which Alfieri himself 
 addressed to his counterfeit, describing closely his own 
 personal appearance. 
 
 O perfect mirror of all speech veracious, 
 
 Show me what soul and substance are mine own ! 
 
 — Scant ruddy locks upon a forehead spacious, 
 
 Of stature tall, but glances earthward prone ; 
 
 A supple form on spindle-shanks supported ; 
 
 White skin, blue eyes with kindly aspect shown, 
 
 Straight nose and well-formed mouth, with teeth most gracious ; 
 
 Pallid in face as tyrant on his throne. 
 
 Now harsh and bitter, mild anon and pleading ; 
 
 Ever irascible yet ne'er malign ; 
 
 With hea t and brain some strife for ever kneading, 
 
 The serious and the gay but ill combine. 
 
 Hero or knave thyself by turns esteeming, 
 
 Art great or vile ? — O Death, the answer's thine ! * 
 
 The natural answer that suggests itself to the direct 
 query in the last line of this famous sonnet is as usual to 
 be found midway between the alternatives mentioned 
 by the writer. 
 
 A little later, the painter, now held in the highest 
 esteem both by Alfieri and the Countess, set to work on 
 a portrait of the latter, which to-day hangs in the Uffizi 
 Gallery beside that of Alfieri. It is an able delineation 
 of the Countess of Albany at the age of forty or a little 
 
 * Sublime sfecchio di veraci detti (Reumont, Apfendix, p. 350). It is 
 remarkable that Ugo Foscolo, whose portrait was executed later by Fabre, 
 in this instance imitated Alfieri by composing the sonnet Solcata ho fronte, 
 occhi incavati intenti ; so that two of Fabre's portraits thus gave birth to 
 two descriptive sonnets of the first rank. 
 
 187 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 over, but it has been accepted as a likeness with the most 
 varied verdicts by its critics. " A cook with the hands 
 of a fine lady," is one very severe comment, and certainly 
 the artist has not stooped in this instance to flatter the 
 last Stuart Queen. All the charm and vivacity of the 
 former Regina dei Cuori, that Bontetten and the gay 
 world of Rome had applauded some thirteen or fourteen 
 years before, have evidently been omitted by Fabre's 
 candid brush, which presents us with a quiet, rather 
 phlegmatic-looking middle-aged lady, somewhat answer- 
 ing to the recent criticism of Horace Walpole as " German 
 and ordinary." Only the beautiful hands and arms 
 go to redeem the commonplace nature of the portrait, 
 which exhibits to us plainly the fact that the Countess 
 had already ceased to take much interest in her personal 
 appearance, being wholly content to rest on her past 
 reputation for loveliness and brilliance. The picture 
 bears pasted on its reverse side a sonnet by Alfieri, headed, 
 "Altroritratto delta Signora Comtessa d Albania, Firenze, 
 
 1 794-" 
 
 Of all the gifts within my Dame's possessing, 
 
 So long experienced yet so hard to tell, 
 
 I rank the first, as my peculiar blessing, 
 
 Her Heart, which only lofty thoughts impel. 
 
 It was her virtue mine own heart addressing, 
 
 And not her beauty, that first cast its spell ; 
 
 And now thereon, with year on year progressing, 
 
 I know my happiness is founded well. 
 
 And though her life is clogged with many a burden, 
 
 Ever she bears each cross right cheerfully ; 
 
 Though slow to anger, she is swift to pardon ; 
 
 Harbours that heart no spice of jealousy. 
 
 For kindness she returns a double guerdon, 
 
 Nor does her mind recall past injury.* 
 
 Here then, side by side in the famous Florentine 
 Gallery, are to be seen the twin portraits of the poet 
 and his " Donna Amata," painted in middle life by the 
 skilful hand of their friend Monsieur Fabre, who in later 
 
 * Di quanti ha pregi la mia Donna eccelsi (Poesie Amorose, p. 210). 
 
 188 
 
LOUISE, COUNTESS OF ALBANY 
 From the portrait by F. X. Fabre 
 
 Alinari 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 days presented these two pictures to the city of Florence 
 at the special request of the Countess. 
 
 From the first it is easy to see that Fabre became 
 almost immediately a dear and honoured guest at Casa 
 Alfieri, the house on the Lung' Arno which the poet 
 was finally able to purchase in the last months of 1793, 
 after vainly searching for a suitable residence for himself 
 and his lady for nearly a twelvemonth. This house, 
 which to-day bears a tablet commemorating one, and 
 one only, of the illustrious pair that once dwelt therein,* 
 faces full south towards the river and the ancient quarter 
 of Oltr' Arno, distinguished by the tall tower of Santo 
 Spirito and the prodigious mass of the Pitti Palace 
 beyond. It stands at right angles to the graceful bridge 
 of Santa Trinita, built by the Renaissance architect 
 Ammannati, and forms one of a small group of ancient 
 palaces formerly belonging to the powerful republican 
 family of Gianfigliazzi, extolled by Dante, whose heraldic 
 emblem, a ramping lion, is still to be seen sculptured 
 on the walls. At the back of these houses, to northward, 
 lies the form of the pretty gothic church of Santa Trinita, 
 beloved of the great Michelangelo, who named it 
 mia dama. Casa Alfieri, as the house chosen by the 
 poet as a home for himself and the Countess of Albany, 
 was, and is still, commonly called, is a mediaeval mansion, 
 though modernised externally in the middle of the past 
 century. It consists of a ground floor with heavily 
 barred windows and a lofty rounded portal in the usual 
 Florentine style of architecture, and of three storeys 
 with seven round-headed windows facing full south 
 and enjoying a good view of the jade-green river, the 
 red roofs and towers of Oltr' Arno, with distant glimpses 
 of the olive-clad hills beyond the city walls. The top- 
 most storey of all, once a loggia or open pillared balcony, 
 was added by Alfieri himself, who declared this good- 
 sized mansion to be inconveniently small for the needs 
 
 * " Vittorio Alfieri, principe delta Tragedia, qui con magnanimi sensi molti 
 anni detto, e qui mor)." 
 
 189 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of himself and his companion. Here the great tragedian 
 possessed his library on the second floor, whilst the 
 Countess occupied the fine sunny chambers on the 
 -piano nobile overlooking the river and the bridge, which 
 still to-day affords an ever-moving picture of Florentine 
 life with the passing crowds, the carts and carriages, 
 the processions of priests, the soldiers marching to martial 
 music ; whilst in those distant days the Grand-Ducal 
 court was wont to drive along this quay of an afternoon 
 in full state for the usual airing in the park of the Cascine. 
 Here then, in the old Gianfigliazzi palace, began that 
 quiet orderly life of daily exercise, studious reading, 
 writing and social entertainment, which the Countess 
 was destined to enjoy, with one interruption only, for 
 over thirty years, and which was shared by her companion 
 for a third of that period. 
 
 Already Alfieri, on returning from Italy, had felt 
 again the old eagerness to see his tragedies acted, and 
 even before settling in the new home on the Lung' Arno 
 he had gone to Siena, apparently alone, to take part 
 in the representation of his favourite play of Saul, by 
 the students of the University, which was then being 
 governed by his old friend, the Arch-priest Luti. No 
 sooner were he and the Countess established in Casa 
 Alfieri, than one of the rooms was fitted up as a temporary 
 theatre, wherein occasional performances were given 
 to which personal friends were invited. A few of these 
 curious cards of invitation are still preserved among the 
 papers of Alfieri in the Museum at Montpellier, of which 
 the following is a specimen : * 
 
 1794. Di 20 Febbraio, Giovedi. 
 A Ore Sette. 
 Recita Privata. In Casa Gianfigliazzi. 
 No. II. (Name of Guest invited.) 
 
 * Mfizzgtinti, £*e Carte 4lfrriane, (Giprpak Stori(o x vol, \\h p, 5 1 ,) 
 I9Q 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 At these performances in his own house, the poet 
 himself usually took a leading part, as indeed he had 
 already acted in the case of the Antigone, presented in 
 the Spanish Envoy's palace in Rome years before ; but, 
 as may easily be imagined, his acting and theatrical 
 attitudes left much to be desired, for he ranted and 
 mouthed in a grotesque manner. Nevertheless, invitations 
 to these dramatic receptions were much sought after 
 by Florentine society and by the various foreigners of 
 distinction that the city constantly attracted. Indeed, 
 the first two or three years in the new home passed 
 pleasantly enough, for Alfieri had not as yet given way 
 to the intense despair and misanthropy, which were 
 later caused by the French invasions of Italy ; nor were 
 the pair, though their income had been much diminished, 
 as yet reduced to actual straits, for Alfieri was receiving 
 the usual payments from his sister at Turin, whilst the 
 Countess continued to draw regularly her 6000 crowns 
 from her brother-in-law's secretary, Monsignore Cesarini, 
 with whom she always remained on friendly terms. 
 With the constant society of chosen friends (amongst 
 whom their newly discovered visitor, Fabre, was already 
 beginning to be ranked foremost), with vigorous applica- 
 tion to literary work, with daily rides or drives for the 
 sake of health, and with the giving of dramatic perform- 
 ances, the poet found life fairly agreeable in the Tuscan 
 capital; whilst the Countess was also busily employed 
 in her daily occupations of reading, of painting, and of 
 writing long letters to her many friends, of commenting 
 on Alfieri's latest works, and of taking solitary walks each 
 morning along the quay of the Lung' Arno, and thence 
 by way of the crowded Borgo Ogni Santi and the market 
 gardens round Porta Prato into the beautiful sylvan 
 park of the Cascine. Florence was, of course, a 
 place absolutely familiar to her with its memories, 
 both pleasant and unpleasant, of her married life, 
 and she seems to have borne little real attachment 
 to the city } provided, however, Alfieri were only 
 
 191 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 happy there, she was perfectly content to reside in this 
 
 spot. 
 
 The haunting dread of a French invasion and a further 
 loss of income were, of course, always hanging over the 
 heads of both, bringing an element of uncertainty and 
 even of alarm into their daily life. Already French troops 
 were preparing to cross the Alps, an event which would 
 mean the occupation of Turin and the consequent 
 diminution of Alfieri's annuity, as is hinted at in the 
 following friendly and facetious letter from the eccentric 
 Lord Bristol. 
 
 " Siena, the Athens of Tuscany. 
 
 " . . . I have devoured Saul, and am now digesting 
 him. It gives me a still higher opinion of your talents. 
 You must suffer me to see it acted, so as to augment 
 my esteem for your genius. You will afford me this 
 boon, will you not, my friend ? 
 
 " And the adorable Countess ? How is she ? If 
 those French devils get so far as Turin, I offer you my 
 purse, my place and my park. My cellar would be 
 useless to you, for not content with Pindar's genius, 
 you also possess his taste. Ariston men hudor. . . . 
 
 " Among all the admirers you have gained, none is 
 more devoted to you than the Earl of Bristol and Bishop 
 of Derry." * 
 
 Whilst the political horizon was growing darker and 
 darker in Italy each month, and even each week, as the 
 new French Republic's despised forces under a rising 
 young Corsican officer of artillery called Napoleon 
 Buonaparte, were slowly but surely overmastering the 
 vaunted legions of the Emperor in the Lombard plains, 
 a terrible grief overtook Alfieri in the midst of his many 
 anxieties. This was no less than the death, long 
 threatened but long delayed, of his intimate friend 
 Mario Bianchi, with whom he had kept up a constant 
 * Letter e Inedite, Appendix, pp. 278, 279. 
 
 192 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 correspondence for the last twelve years, but who 
 had at last succumbed to his ever threatening malady 
 of consumption, the symptoms of which had been growing 
 more pronounced for some years past. He died in the 
 autumn of 1796, at the early age of forty, the event being 
 announced to Alfieri by his mistress, the Teresa Mocenni 
 of the crocchietto saporito which had years before extended 
 so hearty a welcome to the poet on his arrival at Siena. 
 The deceased Chevalier Bianchi had apparently never 
 been seen by the Countess ; nevertheless, she took a 
 genuine interest in his affairs and in those of his Teresa, 
 whose merits she was destined later to appreciate. To 
 the ill tidings sent by the now heart-broken Madame 
 Mocenni, Alfieri replied in a letter of sympathy, with 
 a characteristic undercurrent of egotistic alarm for the 
 fate of himself and his lady. 
 
 " Signora Teresa, Padrona stimatissima, — Your long 
 silence has made me tremble instead of hope, so that 
 I was in no wise anxious to hear news, knowing there 
 was no hope. I have only learned the fatal news through 
 your letter of this morning. Otherwise, I should have 
 hastened to write to you, not to console you (which is 
 impossible), but to participate in your grief, which is 
 all one can do in such a case as yours. Signora Teresa, 
 you deserve my pity far more than our dead Friend, 
 whose sufferings are finished. Your letter lacerates 
 my heart. I experience all the horrors of a situation 
 which I begin to shudder at in thought ; seeing that 
 it will be my own some day. And oh, what can be 
 worse for me than to live on in isolation, in a foreign 
 and inhospitable city, shut in myself alone ! O God, 
 I hope I shall not be the survivor ! Yet, on the other 
 hand, how can I desire for the Better Part of Myself a 
 fate I should never have the courage to endure ? These 
 are terrible reflections, and I often meditate on them. 
 Sometimes I compose verses on them for my mind's 
 relief, but I can never reconcile myself to the idea of 
 
 N I93 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 being left solitary nor to leaving my Lady in a similar 
 plight, since for the same reason she would fare worse 
 than you yourself, Signora Teresa, at the present terrible 
 moment. To you, I can say, 4 You have other ties 
 in this world ; you have your own city ; you have a 
 family ; you have mutual friends with whom to discuss 
 and bewail the beloved Friend ; and above all, you are 
 a mother, and that of itself ought to supply you with 
 courage in your distress.' So you see, we shall be more 
 bereaved than yourself under similar circumstances. 
 But what does that help ? I know it does not help, nor 
 can anything help save for you to talk of Mario and to 
 give free vent to your grief. If you care to do either 
 of these things by letter, unburden your heart and have 
 no fear of wearying me thereby, but write pages many 
 and full. If I shoald be poor in words of reply, I shall 
 certainly be rich in tears whilst I am reading through 
 your letters (as I am at this moment with your present 
 letter before me). Oppressed by your loss and by our 
 own chance of a similar calamity to ourselves, I now 
 make an end. But remember you have friends and 
 children." * 
 
 A second letter from Alfieri to the despairing Madame 
 Mocenni contains the beautiful sonnet t which includes 
 the exquisite lines : 
 
 Teco, O Donna, piangendo assai piu dico. 
 II pianto e in dolce favellar che tace. 
 
 (Full clear my tears express my words to thee, 
 For this my grief seems silent eloquence.) 
 
 That Alfieri was deeply grieved both by his friend's 
 death and by the consequent misery of the unhappy 
 Teresa Mocenni is quite obvious and patent ; yet one 
 cannot help noticing with a smile the intense egotism 
 and selfishness of the man, who in spite of his genuine 
 
 * Letter e Inedite. Op. Cit. 
 t Sdiievo al duol del dianzi estinto amicf. 
 
 194 
 
Casa Alfieri 
 
 sympathy with another's grief is still moved to self- 
 compassion, as he is suddenly struck with the alarming 
 thought of a like blow descending upon the inmates 
 of Casa Alfieri. This remarkable, and in some ways 
 fine, letter affords us therefore an insight into the radically 
 selfish nature of the Italian " Prince of the Tragic 
 Drama," which is extremely helpful towards estimating 
 the value he placed upon his present union with the 
 Countess of Albany. It was indeed the sad fate of poor 
 ailing Mario Bianchi, which inspired him to address the son- 
 net " Donna, s'io sol di mi cur a frendessi " to the Countess 
 herself, with its final line " Sola utf anima siam, sola una 
 salma" which expresses the fervent wish that he and his 
 Lady, being perfectly united in life, may not be divided 
 in death. This strong statement of undying devotion 
 ought therefore to be compared with the sentiments 
 addressed to the Abbe di Caluso (since Bianchi's death 
 his sole surviving intimate correspondent) and to his 
 sister, the Countess Giulia Alfieri di Cumiana, on his 
 death-bed, which will be mentioned in the next chapter 
 but one. 
 
 The grief of the bereaved Teresa Mocenni produced 
 one important result. She herself visited Florence a 
 little later in order to seek sympathy in her loss from 
 Alfieri, who naturally recommended his unhappy friend 
 for further consolation to the Countess of Albany. 
 Before Madame Mocenni's return to Siena, the two 
 women seem to have sworn a friendship that was only 
 terminated by the death of Teresa, in the autumn of 
 1802, during which period a large number of letters 
 passed regularly between the pair. Those written by 
 the Countess to her new-found Sienese friend have 
 happily been preserved almost intact, and for various 
 reasons they are of sufficient interest and value to require 
 the following chapter to themselves. 
 
 195 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 TERESA MOCENNI 
 
 " My dear Teresa, . . . you are the only Italian woman I 
 have ever grown fond of, or has proved sympathetic to me. Tell 
 me about yourself, and your affairs always and often, and be 
 assured that in myself you will find a friend who never changes." 
 — Opening Letter of the Countess of Albany to Signora Teresa Regoli- 
 Mocenni of Siena* 
 
 The intimate correspondence between the Countess 
 of Albany and her two Sienese friends, Signora Teresa 
 Regoli-Mocenni and the Arch-priest Ansano Luti, 
 opens in November 1797, with a warm invitation from 
 the former to write to her constantly on terms of frankness 
 and affection. As has been explained already, Teresa 
 Mocenni was an old acquaintance of Alfieri, who used 
 to frequent her house in the far-away days of the croc- 
 chietto saporito ; whilst the Countess herself had only 
 once met this Madame Mocenni, shortly after the death 
 of her devoted cavaliere servente^ Mario Bianchi, Alfieri's 
 old friend and constant correspondent, in the winter of 
 1796. The Countess, Alfieri, Teresa Mocenni and the 
 Arch-priest Luti were moreover all united by a mutual 
 bond of admiration for the long-dead Francesco Gori, 
 whom Madame d'Albany in one of her letters describes 
 as " one of the most estimable men I have ever known, 
 and also the kindest of creatures, with the heart of an 
 angel and the mind of one of those heroes of the antique 
 
 * L. G. Pelissier, Lettres Inedites de la Comtesse d'Albany & Ses Amis de 
 Sienne. (Tome I. Paris, Fontemoing, 1904.) 
 
 (Unless stated otherwise, all references in this chapter are to the above- 
 mentioned work.) 
 
 I96 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 world whom we all revere." Teresa Mocenni herself, 
 a woman of no small learning and refinement, had 
 formerly by her charm and tact contrived to draw- 
 around her in Siena a circle of the most cultured and 
 agreeable persons in the place ; but her pleasure in life 
 itself had always been sadly marred by the existence 
 of a husband, Ansano Mocenni, a Sienese merchant, 
 who was evidently a Philistine with strong commercial 
 instincts and (what was infinitely worse in the writer's 
 eyes) with a decided leaning towards liberal or 
 " Jacobin " views in politics. Teresa seems to have 
 detested her spouse cordially, whilst Madame d' Albany 
 never alludes to this man (whom in spite of his alleged 
 iniquities one cannot help pitying) by his name, but in- 
 variably by some epithet of disgust or contempt, calling 
 him zanzaro perpetuel, il Brontolone (the Grumbler), 
 imbecile de mari and other insulting terms. And besides 
 the unwelcome presence of the " Brontolone," poor 
 Teresa was ever deploring the loss of her cavaliere 
 servente, Mario Bianchi, who had died a twelvemonth 
 before the opening of this correspondence at the early 
 age of forty. Nor were the persecutions of a living 
 husband and the sad memories of a lost lover the only 
 afflictions the unhappy lady was forced to bear, for she 
 was likewise much beset by domestic difficulties in finding 
 suitable matches for her daughters and in rearing and 
 educating her large family, for she was already the 
 mother of several children ; whilst the expected birth 
 of yet another infant to the " Brontolone " at this very 
 time causes considerable amusement to the childless 
 mistress of Casa Alfieri, who never ceases to congratulate 
 herself on her failure to become a mother. To this 
 undesired baby, the Countess, not over-graciously, 
 consents to stand godmother, provided the child be 
 a girl, in which event the names of Luisa-Vittoria are 
 to be bestowed on it. To another of her Teresa's children, 
 a boy born in 1784, Alfieri himself had become sponsor 
 and given his own name of Vittorio, in consequence of 
 
 197 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 which Madame d'Albany takes a special interest in this 
 youth, maintaining with him a pleasant correspondence, 
 undertaken with the two-fold object of teaching him 
 French and of inspiring his unformed mind with choice 
 sentiments carefully selected from the works of Cicero 
 or Seneca.* 
 
 Of the Arch-priest Luti, a scholar and an old friend of 
 Alfieri, but little is known beyond what comes to the 
 surface in these letters, and that little, to speak frankly, 
 reflects ill on his moral character. Moreover, during 
 a time of political repression in Siena, Luti showed 
 himself distinctly ungenerous or cowardly in ostentatiously 
 avoiding the salon of his old friend, Teresa Mocenni, 
 much to the indignation of her champion in Florence, 
 who speaks her mind very freely on his conduct in this 
 and in sundry other matters. For throughout these 
 letters the financial complications caused by the folly 
 of Luti's mistress, a person in humble life (for this 
 literary priest did not exist without female consolation), 
 are often discussed with perfect sang-froid by Madame 
 d'Albany. The substance of these letters is mostly 
 intended for Teresa, but all are directed to the Arch- 
 priest, who is sometimes styled on the subscription for 
 safety's sake " il Cittadino Luti." 
 
 In spite of her wit and learning, Teresa Mocenni was 
 but the wife of a Sienese merchant, who kept the Casa 
 Alfieri well supplied with various groceries, notably 
 with the chocolate and gingerbread that figure in so 
 many of the letters, and this circumstance in a manner 
 gives a higher value to her connection with so important 
 a personage as the Countess of Albany. Her beloved 
 Teresa not being a great lady, the Countess' letters 
 to her are in consequence fairly free from that tedious 
 element, which the author of Vanity Fair would perhaps 
 have characterised as " fashionable slip-slop." On the 
 contrary, they deal witrTmatters of immediate private 
 concern, great or small, and are not stuffed with weari- 
 
 * Prissier, Lettres Inedites, i$c. Appendix II. pp. 439-457. 
 
 I98 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 some accounts of modish balls and assemblies, followed 
 by strings of aristocratic names, or seasoned with faded 
 scandals in high life and with bon-mots that have long 
 lost all their point and savour. Indeed, in one letter 
 this high and mighty widow of a de jure king pro- 
 ceeds to read her provincial friend a full lecture 
 concerning her ignorance as to the great social world of 
 Rome. 
 
 Nevertheless, we gain not a few entertaining sketches 
 of persons of some celebrity in these pages. We are 
 afforded glimpses of the Tuscan diplomatists, Lucchesini 
 and Carletti, the latter being labelled as " a mass of 
 conceit and selfishness, and Heaven knows why ! " — 
 of the Cardinals Consalvi, Antonelli, Zondadari and 
 York (" qui me deteste comme Lucifer ! "), the last-named 
 being held up to merciless ridicule ; of the severe General 
 Miollis ; of the pious but silly old King Charles- 
 Emmanuel of Sardinia ; of the eccentric Lord Bristol, 
 Bishop of Derry ; and of other persons of note, all of 
 whom are delineated for us in the sharp unfeeling 
 language wherein Madame d' Albany was a proficient. 
 We breathe, as it were, a natural atmosphere of intimate 
 humanity in this correspondence, which is couched 
 throughout in rather slovenly French, well-peppered 
 with Italian idioms, for the writer's cosmopolitan training 
 does not seem to have permitted her to acquire a complete 
 mastery over any one tongue. It is, however, pleasant 
 for us to play the harmless part of eavesdropper in these 
 feminine confidences of more than a century ago, which 
 passed between the widow of Prince Charles-Edward 
 Stuart and the superior wife of the ill-tempered merchant 
 of Siena ; between the " Donna Amata of the Italian 
 tragic poet and the bereaved mistress of the late Chevalier 
 Mario Bianchi. Throughout the volume containing 
 the one hundred and seventy-six letters, which the 
 industry and learning of Monsieur Pelissier have collected 
 and edited for us, we are presented with many shrewd 
 remarks on a variety of subjects from the most lofty to 
 
 199 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 the most trivial ; a mass of homely but not uninteresting 
 details about Casa Alfieri, and several pages of a scarcely 
 serious pessimism wherein the Countess is ever prone 
 to indulge. We have also many comments of no special 
 value on the political topics of these stirring days, coupled 
 with an unreasoning and unreasonable abuse of the 
 French armies and the French nation. Possibly, Madame 
 d'Albany's invective is made the fiercer by reason of the 
 fact that her two friends in Siena, especially the Arch- 
 priest Luti, did not wholly share the writer's reactionary 
 ideals. Criticisms of books, new and old, constantly 
 occur ; whilst good advice on the preservation of health, 
 on political deportment, on education of children, on 
 marrying of daughters, and a host of other subjects is 
 liberally showered both on Teresa and the Arch-priest, 
 without a thought of future publication on the part of 
 the famous woman who indited these letters. 
 
 We begin by quoting the first letter in toto ; for though 
 it is not of special interest, it will afford a useful specimen 
 of the epistolary style of Madame d'Albany to the friend 
 chosen to be the special confidant of her fears, her hopes, 
 her views, and her doubts. 
 
 " My dear Teresa, — I deeply regret you did not 
 remain longer in Florence, also that I have not known 
 you earlier, for you are the only Italian woman I have 
 ever grown fond of, or that has ever proved sympathetic 
 to me. I greatly hope you will love me always, and that 
 we shall remain friends for life, and of this hope your 
 excellent disposition, which hitherto I know better by 
 report than by experience, seems a sure guarantee. Be 
 assured that all which concerns yourself will prove of 
 interest to me, so tell me about your affairs always and 
 often, and believe that in myself you will find a friend 
 who never changes. How could you fancy we should 
 never meet again, when we are living [at each others' 
 gates, as it were ? If you cannot find your way to me, 
 well then, I shall go to see you. But I am in hopes you 
 200 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 will still be able to come and spend the month of October 
 in Florence ; do not despair of this, I beg you. The 
 most impossible things sometimes come to pass in this 
 world, whilst the most likely often fail to occur. Courage, 
 my dear, do not let yourself fall a prey to melancholy. 
 Well indeed do I realise that your heart is lacerated ; 
 nevertheless sustain yourself with reason, or rather trust 
 yourself to Time, that destroying tyrant who swallows 
 up even the deepest-rooted affections. Yet he never 
 obliterates true friendship ; he only blunts the sharp 
 arrows of grief. And yet, despite my fine phrases that 
 are easier to supply than to follow, I shudder in thinking 
 on the loss you have sustained. My heart bleeds for 
 you. Carletti, our minister in disgrace, writes to me 
 that he will endeavour to talk with you about me, since 
 we are such friends. Receive him, for he will divert 
 your thoughts. 
 
 " I do not yet send you [Alfieri's] sonnets, because 
 the Count Vittorio, who is your true friend, has begun 
 to have his portrait painted, and at eleven o'clock we go 
 for him to sit to Monsieur Fabre, who sends you the 
 homage of respect. We often talk over you together. 
 You shall have the sonnets presently. 
 
 " If you want any article dyed in Florence, my dear 
 Teresa, pray send without scruple ; and I say this because 
 I love to employ myself on your behalf, and because 
 you know I do not make this offer out of empty compli- 
 ment. 
 
 " You will have seen the terms of the Peace [of Campo 
 Formio]. Italy is sacrificed and is made tributary to 
 the French. What a crime to have allowed these 
 brigands to force the barrier of the Alps ! 
 
 " I am well, and so is the Poet. I trust your slight 
 malady will have left no ill effects behind. Take care 
 of yourself and arm yourself with patience against your 
 Perpetual Mosquito, and take the line of acting as you 
 please and paying no attention to him. Keep well 
 employed to distract your thoughts, and read books 
 
 201 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 which fortify the heart and refresh the brain. I will 
 
 try to procure you a copy of the Essays of Montaigne, 
 who is our breviary, for he teaches one to think and he 
 invigorates the soul. 
 
 " Farewell, my dear Teresa. Send me news of your- 
 self, and give kind messages to the Arch-priest both 
 from myself and from Count Alfieri. You may rely 
 for ever on my tender and unchanging devotion through- 
 out life. I embrace you with my whole heart a thousand 
 times over. Love me, for I am not undeserving of your 
 love, since no one pays more deference to your many 
 virtues. 
 
 " What are your children doing ? Was Vittorio 
 right or wrong ? Tell me of every interest you have, 
 and believe that you have no better friend in the world 
 than myself." * 
 
 The allusion herein to the Poet's picture by Fabre, 
 leads us to remark that Madame d'Albany was at this 
 period occupying her leisure hours with painting ; t and 
 what more natural than that under the influence of this 
 new-sprung friendship, she would wish to accomplish 
 a likeness of her Teresa ? It is an agreeable picture of 
 domestic culture and industry in Casa Alfieri that is 
 presented to us ; the Poet, now approaching fifty, 
 burying himself in a deep study of the classical authors, 
 t ou jours enseveli sous les in- j olios grecs et latins ; whilst 
 the equally energetic Countess continues to paint with 
 all the enthusiasm of an amateur, whose achievements 
 were far from contemptible. In succeeding letters 
 there is frequent mention of a portrait of her dear Teresa, 
 which the illustrious artist hopes from the serious expres- 
 sion bestowed on the face " will frighten the 6 Bron- 
 tolone ' on looking at it. Perhaps it will even bring 
 
 * PP- 3' 4- 
 
 t In January 1910, there was being offered for sale in a Florentine bric-a- 
 brac shop the portrait of a gentleman in blue coat and white cravat, signed 
 on the canvas " Louise de Stolberg, Comtesse d'Albany, 1795.'* The paint- 
 ing was certainly not without merit. 
 
 2Q2 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 you some welcome peace by making him go early to bed 
 every evening, so that you yourself can converse at your 
 ease with the Arch-priest." 
 
 A letter dated February 27, 1798, contains a fair 
 example of the Countess' habitual strain of melancholy 
 over the political situation after the recent peace of 
 Campo Formio, since both she and Alfieri were ever 
 deploring their expected fate at the hands of the victorious 
 French, who were pretty certain sooner or later to occupy 
 Florence. The author of the Miso-Gallo had perhaps 
 some real cause for alarm, but his gloomy views were 
 shared in a double degree by his companion, who never 
 ceases to lament the evil in store and to abuse (so long 
 as she dared) the French Government and its agents in 
 Italy. 
 
 " You are correct, my dear Teresa, in saying that 
 plenty of people would envy my lot, and if so on account 
 of the Friend I possess, they are right, for I, too, estimate 
 myself a happy woman on that score. But the world 
 does not know what I feel, and the Friend too ; or what 
 I suffer myself from seeing him suffer from the late events, 
 and from seeing the wicked triumphant on all sides, with 
 ourselves on the eve of flight we know not whither, and 
 in a state of terrible uncertainty. Who can say he is 
 safe from undeserved imprisonment ? Who can declare 
 with assurance at this moment, 6 1 shall not die in fetters '? 
 For the more noble the man, the more reason has he 
 to fear these wretches. 
 
 " Do you really think life itself would be supportable, 
 when every principle of public religion and morality 
 has been swept away ? Ah, happy he who neither 
 thinks of nor beholds the results in Italy. And hard 
 it is to have to spend the residue of one's days wandering 
 hither and thither, with no sense of security any- 
 where. I find that at forty-five life no longer worth 
 the struggle, and if it were not for our Friend, I 
 should welcome death with all my heart. For I am 
 
 203 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 not like the majority of persons who believe in the 
 supreme joy of living ; I am disgusted with every- 
 thing, and see the realities of life more clearly since 
 the Revolution. I have therefore an overwhelming 
 contempt for the human race, and even my heart 
 has grown hardened, for the good or ill of the multi- 
 tude affects me no more. Only fools and knaves do I 
 see in this world. And if I lost our Friend, I should 
 have lost my all ; yet how can one count on anything 
 for certain in this world, wherein at the very moment 
 we imagine we have seized firmly upon happiness, it 
 eludes our grasp ? 
 
 " Believe me, my dear Teresa, that I am expressing 
 my true and well-weighed sentiments. I thought that 
 after my husband's death I should continue in peace 
 and happiness, when lo, the Revolution, which has 
 turned my life into a perpetual state of anxiety as to my 
 safety and my means of existence. So you see there is 
 no hope of a real state of peace. 
 
 " If I had children, I should go mad, but mercifully 
 in that respect I have been fortunate. I shall be 
 told, 6 Think of the Pope's position ! ' True, but he 
 has the good luck to be eighty-two and tottering on the 
 verge of the grave, whilst I am only forty-five. My 
 good time is past and gone, and there only awaits me 
 now a vista of sickness and old age. But I am dwelling 
 on a theme, which will not tend to cheer you, for you 
 have experienced troubles of every kind, and more 
 numerous even than my own. . . . 
 
 " Alas, poor humanity ! What a mockery it is ! Since 
 the proclamation of the Rights of Man, never have men 
 been so treated like sheep. They are sold like hogs to 
 the highest bidder, after being weighed. Basta / Fare- 
 well, my dear Arch-priest. We are all sick, for we are 
 all living in the midst of a moral plague, and who knows 
 but that we may not catch its infection ourselves ? The 
 Poet salutes you. . . ." * 
 
 * PP. 4*~4 8 - 
 
 204 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 We get, of course, numerous glimpses of Alfieri, 
 generally called the Poet, who usually sends greeting 
 to his old Sienese friends by means of the letters of the 
 Countess. In July 1798, we learn of his intention to 
 renounce poetry, in answer to a request for some sonnets 
 from Signora Mocenni. 
 
 " The Poet charges me with a thousand kind messages 
 to you. He writes nothing more nowadays that he can 
 send you, and when once he has attained his fiftieth 
 birthday, he has made a resolution beforehand of renounc- 
 ing his bella madonna, Poesy, so as not to sink into the 
 absurd number of those superannuated swans, his brother 
 bards, who go on composing verses with hoary heads. 
 At present he is studying Greek, and is revising his former 
 satires, and for some time past I have seen nothing fresh 
 to send you. Have you had his sonnet written for Fabre ? 
 If not, I shall get it for you." * 
 
 To Teresa Mocenni's melancholy and disconsolate 
 outpourings concerning her departed lover, the Countess 
 replies in the following strain, which is evidently intended 
 to console her friend. 
 
 "... I always envy the lot of those deeply religious 
 persons who lay all their burdens at the foot of the Cross, 
 and thereby acquire merit in the sight of Heaven. It 
 is an awful crime to deprive any one of religion, but 
 especially a woman. How much less unhappy you 
 would feel, my dear Teresa, if only you were devote, 
 or if you hoped to see your Mario again ! But I do not 
 conceive how you could see him again, even if he is really 
 calling to you to deliver him, for if you do believe in a 
 future life, he has committed no crime to make him 
 unhappy ; and if you do not believe, he is non-existent. 
 Thus in neither case is he suffering. Yet he is more 
 fortunate than yourself, for he enjoys peace and cessation 
 from fears. I never pity the Dead ; it is the living who 
 
 * p. 112. 
 
 205 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 arc left behind that I commiserate on account of their 
 separation from those they love. Consider then your 
 friend as happy and freed from the anxieties of this world. 
 Mourn for him, because you have lost him, but not 
 because he is wretched or suffering, for he endures less 
 than you do yourself, since he feels nothing. Then calm 
 your imagination, and above all things do not encourage 
 such agitating notions, my dear Teresa. Reason must 
 enforce her sway at the end of a certain interval. So 
 do as I tell you ; mourn for your friend as lost but not 
 unhappy." * 
 
 And again, in a letter of a week later (March 20), 
 Madame d'Albany makes a further attempt to cheer and 
 advise her disconsolate Teresa, still brooding over the 
 lost Mario Bianchi in her waking and sleeping hours. 
 
 " You ought to try to avoid the very spots that recall 
 your Friend and the happy hours you passed together. 
 You must allow the wound to become cicatrized, and 
 not seek to reopen it continually, otherwise it will never 
 heal. It is only Time that can soften grief, and change 
 it into a tender memory of happy moments past and 
 gone ; but the waiting for Time's healing is a terribly 
 tedious process. I pity you with all my soul, and I did 
 pity you already before I actually knew you. You may 
 rest assured that I share your troubles, and I feel them 
 all the more, because I am constantly trembling lest the 
 same fate overtake myself. The Poet keeps well, but 
 at the least sign of suffering, my heart grows alarmed, 
 as you may well imagine, especially at this crisis. What 
 shall I do without him ? I only hold on to life for his 
 sake, whilst you have children with whom to share your 
 affection. Vittorio deserves your loving attention ; 
 and if you occupy yourself with him, he will love you 
 in return, whilst he can bear grateful witness to your love 
 by consecrating himself to your service. Tell him so 
 from me." * 
 
 * PP. 50,51. 
 
 206 
 
 * P. 5f 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 The following confidential complaints and expressions 
 of uneasiness were written on July 9, 1798. 
 
 " . . . For myself, I have from my earliest years been 
 familiar with misfortune. I was born the eldest of the 
 children of my mother, who wanted a boy and in conse- 
 quence received and treated me ill all my youthful days. 
 She shut me in a convent where I learned nothing, in 
 order to pay a smaller sum for my education and thus 
 to have more money for her own amusement, for my 
 mother has never thought of aught else but to play, 
 enjoy life and dress herself up to her present age of 
 sixty-five. She affianced me (so as to get rid of me) 
 to the most insupportable man that ever lived, a man 
 uniting in himself every possible fault and prejudice in 
 addition to the lackey's vice of drunkenness. 
 
 " I hoped then after his death to live peaceably and 
 happily, had not these political upheavals plunged me 
 once more into alarm for my very means of existence. 
 The only happiness I have enjoyed (and indeed it is 
 no small one) is in having a Friend such as the Poet. 
 Yet even he causes me uneasiness at this moment, for 
 I suffer on his behalf, and if ever some change took place 
 in this country under a French occupation, I should be 
 terrified about him, since his detestation of their rule 
 is well known, because he loathes tyranny under whatso- 
 ever form it may present itself. You see, my dear Teresa, 
 how I love you, and with what confidence I address 
 you, feeling sure of your heart and of your feelings towards 
 myself. I should love to live in the same town with 
 you, to open my heart to you every instant of the day, 
 and to share in your own troubles, for you are even more 
 wretched than I, and this thought torments me." * 
 
 In October 1798, Madame d' Albany accepts the post 
 of sponsor to Teresa's new-born baby, the little Luisa- 
 Vittoria Mocenni. 
 
 * pp. 104, 105. 
 
 207 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 " My very dear Teresa," she writes on October 16, 
 " I have never yet been a godmother in my life, and I 
 understand nothing about the matter, so arrange every- 
 thing as you wish, for it is only my affection for yourself 
 that has induced me to accede to your request. I do 
 not know a cat in Siena, so I should be under great diffi- 
 culty in asking any one to act for me, but it seems to 
 me that your daughter [Quirina] could easily represent 
 me. Besides, I understand nothing of this church 
 ceremony. I remember that once in London a friend 
 of mine asked me to act sponsor together with General 
 de Paoli, and that I agreed, but nobody appeared for 
 me on that occasion. . . ." * 
 
 Eventually the Countess appeals to Luti for his 
 services : " As I comprehend nothing about this affair 
 of standing sponsor and still less about the fees to the 
 priests, I beg you to pay out whatever is necessary to 
 have Teresa's child sprinkled, and I will repay you 
 promptly, for I know the Church gives nothing without 
 payment, not even a drop of water ! 99 
 
 The writer is not very complimentary to her Teresa 
 as a mother, though she makes many suggestions for the 
 education of her numerous progeny, concerning whose 
 future prospects she always takes the most gloomy views. 
 " . . . Really, I do not know where one is to place 
 children to prevent their growing up wicked. It seems 
 to me you have a great number of these marmousets, 
 and they must be a terrible anxiety to you." 
 
 We obtain some rather curious accounts of the humble 
 household of the Fabres in the course of these letters. 
 The painter was now inhabiting a house together with 
 an aged father and mother and his brother Edouard, 
 a doctor, who was rapidly obtaining a good practice 
 in Florence, where amongst other patients he soon 
 reckoned the great Alfieri, now growing more feeble 
 with each succeeding year. Madame Fabre was appa- 
 
 * pp. 148, 150. 
 
 208 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 rently the first of the family to arrive, namely, in August 
 1798. — " Fabre sends you his respectful homage. His 
 mother arrived in Florence about twelve days ago from 
 Marseilles. She is a little old woman of fifty-eight, 
 lively as gunpowder, who cleans the house from cellar 
 to garret. It will be an economical move for him, 
 since she will take charge of his linen and all his household 
 affairs, and he won't have to pay her any wages, whilst 
 an extra woman in the house costs very little." * 
 
 Dr. Edouard Fabre was the last to appear, and in a 
 letter of July 28, 1 801, Madame d'Albany writes : 
 
 " Fabre works on, but with a sad heart. He is painting 
 a picture of Socrates drinking the hemlock. He sends 
 you his respectful homage. He sees nothing of his 
 countrymen, whose occupation of Florence keeps aloof 
 all strangers, which means an empty purse. His brother, 
 the Doctor, is doing very well with his profession, being 
 specially clever at treating the maladie francaise, which 
 keeps him in constant practice. Thus money flows into 
 Casa Fabre from a tainted source ! They are worthy 
 people, well deserving of happiness, all four living on 
 terms of perfect unity." t 
 
 The fourth member of the Fabre household was, of 
 course, the father, a drawing-master and the original 
 instructor of his talented son, whose works were far more 
 appreciated in his own generation than they are at the 
 present day. All four members of this humble family 
 of emigres from Montpellier were staunch Legitimists 
 and keen haters of the Republic, a circumstance that 
 certainly helped to endear them in a special degree to 
 the supercilious master and mistress of Casa Alfieri. 
 Of Frangois-Xavier's position and influence with Alfieri 
 and the Countess we have already spoken ; but the esteem 
 wherein the artist was held was subsequently extended, 
 though in a less degree, to Doctor Edouard Fabre, who 
 was credited with an unusual knowledge of the poet's 
 
 * p. *3f t p. 403, 
 
 0 209 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 constitution. The homely parents are only mentioned 
 in terms of gracious condescension by the Countess, 
 who merely approves of them as being of some assistance 
 to their gifted sons : " the father, who gives lessons in 
 drawing, makes a little money thereby. The mother 
 manages the housekeeping, and pays for her sustenance 
 by her hard work. They are all deeply attached to 
 one another, and live contentedly and without quarrelling. 
 But for circumstances, the Painter would already have 
 amassed a fair fortune, for at the time of the Revolution 
 he had more than fourteen big pictures commissioned 
 for France, where he would have obtained some high 
 post. But we must never think on the past, save to 
 regret it." 
 
 In a later letter, the Countess mentions a visit of the 
 French general of occupation, Miollis, to Fabre's studio, 
 where, however, he made no purchase. " Doubtless 
 he is accustomed to get his pictures for nothing ! " * 
 is her spiteful comment thereon. 
 
 Meanwhile, Teresa Mocenni had retired to her small 
 property of Piano, near Siena, where the Countess 
 professes to envy her this rural retreat. 
 
 " I have read with delight, my dear Teresa, the 
 description of your country-home, which must be quite 
 charming, and raises a desire in me to see it myself some 
 day. What would you say on seeing me appear chez 
 vous, like a bombshell ? How I should love to see and 
 embrace you once again ! I strongly approve of the life 
 you are leading, but take plenty of exercise both for 
 mind and body. Quiet is an excellent tonic for our 
 mental faculties, and the country can give us a fresh 
 supply of vitality. 
 
 " But will you believe me when I tell you that I do 
 not care to live in the country ? Not, however, because 
 it bores me, for I know too well how to pass my time 
 to advantage. But never having been brought up in the 
 
 * P 3 6 7- 
 
 210 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 country, I possess no real affection for it. The time soon 
 comes when I begin to long for society of an evening, 
 and as I cannot have it, I grow discontented. After 
 being busy all day long, I require some distraction at 
 night, and that is a want the country cannot supply." * 
 
 And again she writes to her " Saint of Piano " on 
 April 19, 1800 : " . . . I am delighted to learn you are 
 happy in the country with your books and your peasants. 
 To have a contented mind and an easy conscience is a 
 real boon. Both of these I myself also enjoy. Even in 
 the midst of a crowded room I always feel solitary, and 
 sometimes in regarding other people I form a higher 
 estimate of myself ; not that I am really good, but that 
 I sometimes gain by comparison with others." t 
 
 There are a good many allusions, all contemptuous, 
 to that queer creature, Frederick-Augustus Hervey, 
 Earl of Bristol and Bishop of Derry, who spent many 
 years of his life wandering aimlessly about Italy, buying 
 works of art, and indeed (to quote Madame d'Albany's 
 own words) committing every species of folly. This 
 ornament of the English peerage and the Irish episcopate 
 reckoned one virtue at least in his critic's eyes, for he 
 was a warm patron of Fabre and a sincere admirer of his 
 genius. On August 2, 1800, the Countess relates to 
 Luti how she has just seen ce fou Bristol passing beneath 
 her window, clad presumably in the red plush breeches 
 and broad-brimmed white hat that he generally affected 
 to the amazement of his Italian friends, who came to 
 consider this costume as the official garb of a heretic 
 bishop. 
 
 " That idiot, Bristol, my dear Arch-priest, has already 
 returned from Siena, and as I was reading your letter 
 he passed beneath my window. I cannot imagine for 
 what purpose he went to Siena ? Tell me, I entreat 
 you, if he has not found some woman there that he has 
 * p. 257, f p. 265. 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 brought back here with him, for we have seen him 
 driving about with a pretty creature, and he told us 
 before he left he was going to see une &e ses amies. It's 
 an eccentric, who has an ample fortune to sustain his 
 extravagances." * 
 
 Other confidences concerning the amours, the servants 
 and the follies of this crazy peer-prelate follow at intervals, 
 but they are far from edifying and had better lie im- 
 bedded in their writer's original French. 
 
 Amongst the various persons of less importance who 
 cross the stage of this correspondence, mention ought 
 to be made of the Cicciaporci family ; a father, wife and 
 daughter. Signor Antonio Cicciaporci was the natural 
 son of Donna Anna Cicciaporci, a noble Roman lady 
 of easy virtue and the acknowledged mistress of the 
 dissipated Venetian Cardinal Cornaro, Governor of 
 Rome, in consequence of which the lady had been nick- 
 named the " Abbe Anna." f Their son Antonio had 
 contrived to marry an English lady of position, and was 
 the possessor of a miniature of the Countess of Albany 
 painted at the time of her first residence in Rome as 
 the bride of Prince Charles Edward — a work of art that 
 was presumably one of the spoils extracted by the so- 
 called Abbe Anna from her Cardinal-lover. To this 
 miniature the Countess alludes in a letter of October 
 10, 1800. 
 
 " A thousand messages to the Cicciaporci. I hope 
 the head of the family will take care of himself for the 
 sake of his wife and daughter. I did not know before 
 that he had a miniature of myself. It cannot any longer 
 bear any resemblance to me, for it must be at least a 
 quarter of a century old, and that lapse of time leaves 
 marks on the face that change its expression and blot 
 out its freshness. Now I must think of beautifying the 
 soul, so that it may be tolerated in its old age." J 
 
 # p. 305, t Sijvagni, Corte di Roma, 
 
 X p. 327- 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 On the arrival of this family in Florence, Madame 
 d'Albany presents her friend with a very candid criticism 
 of the trio : " . . . Madame Cicciaporci * is a good 
 woman who speaks all languages equally ill, and yet talks 
 a great deal. . . . She always amazes me with her chatter, 
 and is apt to become intensely wearisome. She has 
 seen everything, and she knows everything. That pose 
 fatigues me, and occasionally her husband also. He is 
 a man of sense, and I believe he is patient. English- 
 women have many good qualities, but they are so restless 
 by nature, that they must sometimes make their husbands 
 regret their extreme chastity ! But this is quite between 
 ourselves" 
 
 And again, in a letter of somewhat later date, the 
 Countess returns to this Anglo-Italian household. " The 
 Cicciaporci family are all of them well. The husband 
 has had an attack of the gout, but is better. The wife 
 has her usual slight ailments. She is a good creature 
 but a hopeless chatterbox. The girl is nice, and worth 
 ten of her mother." 
 
 In December Madame d'Albany receives a letter from 
 Teresa complaining of the insipid conversation and 
 crass ignorance of the people of Siena, which annoy 
 her so much that she has decided to abjure in future 
 such society as the town offered. That easy-going and 
 tolerant ecclesiastic, the Arch-priest Luti, by no means 
 shared the Mocenni's views on this subject, and his 
 opinion is strongly upheld by the Countess in the follow- 
 ing letter, dated December 28, 1799, which contains 
 what is on the whole the best piece of advice yet bestowed 
 on her absent friend. 
 
 " I fully agree, my dear Teresa, with the Arch-priest 
 in condemning your intolerance of fools. I am far from 
 counselling any self-abasement, which is an idea quite 
 
 * She was a daughter of Sir John Stuart, Bart., of Allanbank, and sister 
 to the wife of Sir J. C. Hippisley. (Journal of Elizabeth, Lady Holland, 
 vol. i. p. 31.) 
 
 213 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 alien to my disposition. But in this world it is always 
 necessary to apologise for any superior qualities we may 
 possess, and particularly for originality of mind and 
 education in a small town (like Siena), where all are 
 ignorant, especially the women, and where a common 
 impression prevails that study itself is a crime. They 
 are punishing you too, my dear Teresa, for the delightful 
 group of interesting people you collected around you 
 some years ago,* for envy and jealousy do not easily 
 forgive. So it is bad policy for you to make yourself 
 enemies of all these fools, whose number is inexhaustible. 
 An apt remark or a compliment can be of use, but above 
 all things never discuss either with them or in their 
 hearing any subject they do not understand. You must 
 descend to their level, and not expect them to mount 
 to your heights. If you had studied your Montaigne's 
 Essays carefully, you would have gathered how one can 
 learn something from everybody, even from the silliest. 
 One never ought to cite oneself as an example, but — 
 since our letters constitute a sort of confession, to which 
 the Arch-priest gives absolution, for we are worthy to 
 be his penitents — for my own part I take society in the 
 evening as a relaxation, wherein I get amusement out 
 of the fools who abound here in Florence, as though they 
 were persons of real interest. I play my part, and never 
 do I speak to them either of my studies or of my know- 
 ledge, so that no woman can accuse me of so much as 
 hinting to her that I even opened a book. We often 
 laugh together, the Poet and I, over the absurdities 
 we have heard, and yourself and the Arch-priest might 
 act in the same manner. . . . My years have made me 
 very indulgent, and my experience of the world has 
 taught me to be tolerant of all. But there are so few 
 people who are in the position of being able to act as 
 they ought. Your own philosophy, my dear Teresa, 
 ought to serve you to the same end ; namely, to be severe 
 to yourself and indulgent towards others. Do not raise 
 * An allusion to the crocchiette saportto of Alfieri's youth. 
 
 214 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 up enemies, if only in the interests of your children ; 
 and enemies are commonly made so easily out of the 
 merest remark or trifle, for all fools are so sensitive." * 
 
 We have already mentioned Madame d'Albany's 
 occupation of painting, and it seems that after sending 
 Teresa her own portrait, she decides to make her a present 
 of a picture by her own hand of St. Teresa of Spain, 
 Signora Mocenni's own tutelar saint. In an amusing 
 letter of October 4, 1800, the despatch of this gift is 
 announced with an account of Fabre's professional 
 alterations and improvements on the canvas, which in 
 a postscript the French artist modestly deprecates. 
 Other matters not without some interest are also touched 
 upon in this letter. 
 
 " To-day, my dear Teresa, your patron saint will 
 set off on her travels ! I hope she will reach you by 
 next Tuesday, so that I may hear of her safe arrival, 
 and of your own opinion of her. I promised you to 
 resort to Monsieur Fabre's brush so as to correct my 
 mistakes ; and he has lent himself to my plan, partly 
 out of his usual kindness towards myself, and partly 
 because he wants you to possess a better picture of your 
 celestial guardian in your oratory. I trust you will 
 have cause to be satisfied with his saintly efforts. I 
 never blow my own trumpet, and you yourself are well 
 aware that I am not capable of bestowing so sweet an 
 expression on any face. However, provided you are 
 pleased with the result, Monsieur Fabre and I will be 
 equally contented, and you can recall us both to your 
 mind whenever you look on your picture. It was, how- 
 ever, rather effrontery on my part to mingle my painting 
 with his. Happily, however, the touches of his brush 
 help to hide my own efforts. 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear of Monsieur Cicciaporci's 
 illness, for it is of a kind that increases with years. I am 
 afraid when he comes to Florence, he will drink too much 
 
 * pp. 227-229. 
 
 215 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 at the dinner-parties given by English visitors here. In 
 Italy one cannot drink overmuch wine with impunity, 
 especially the Tuscan vintages. I beg you to make 
 my compliments both to him and his family. I pity 
 his poor wife for her anxiety, since it is an awful thing 
 to feel that in a moment one may be deprived of the 
 person who is absolutely essential to one's happiness. 
 But one cannot, and ought not, to count for certain 
 on anything in this world ; and thus it was that St. 
 Teresa only thought of Heaven and loved no one but 
 God. Happy are those who can imitate her example 
 and detach themselves entirely from every earthly tie ! 
 But I am still far from this attitude of perfection. 
 
 " You will have heard of our armistice of forty-five 
 days, which is due to expire on November 9th, when it 
 will be too late in the season to recommence hostilities, 
 and consequently the French will continue in Italy to 
 devour what little remains to be eaten. I have always 
 called this truce a state of neither peace nor war, but one 
 eternal round of plunder. 
 
 " I do not know who can have informed you of the 
 recapture of Peschiera, for there have been no actual 
 engagements on either side since the battle of Marengo. 
 I suspect Madame Santa-Maria prefers Siena to Florence, 
 because she is made more of there ; and as this lady 
 has been a prominent personage all her life, she is in no 
 hurry to be lost once more in the general crowd, where 
 men think of nothing but amorous intrigue, and care 
 nothing about strangers in their midst, unless they can 
 suck some advantage out of them. If your pretty 
 women in Siena are as insipid as are ours here, I am not 
 surprised to learn that your boy from Denmark cannot 
 find much pleasure in their society. Our women have 
 no sort of conversation, but they are at least quite good 
 enough for the men who frequent their houses. 
 
 " I salute the Arch-priest and I implore him not to 
 give way to despair. I have no doubt his prayers will 
 prove very efficacious, but personally I prefer to trust 
 216 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 to our armies, which are not quite so vanquished as he 
 seems to think. 
 
 " I should like you to find a husband (not for myself !), 
 but for a young girl, who is not pretty, but full of talent, 
 of very good birth, and with a fair dowry. This young 
 person has been excellently educated ; she has a pro- 
 fessor's knowledge of music, plays on the harpsichord, 
 writes well, knows how to cast accounts and speaks 
 several languages. It is likely, too, that one day she 
 may become rich. I beg you to see if there exists at 
 Siena a suitable parti for this young lady. It is difficult 
 to marry her here, since she is plain, though without 
 any physical defect, for she is tall and well formed. 
 
 " Farewell, my dear Teresa, I embrace you a thousand 
 times over with all my heart. Rely ever on my tender 
 affection. I now yield the pen, not the brush to Mon- 
 sieur Fabre ! " 
 
 (Postscript in Monsieur Fabre' s handwriting) 
 
 " I came to visit Madame la Comtesse at the moment 
 of her shutting down her letter, and I have asked her 
 permission to use the remainder of her sheet of paper 
 so as to rectify a mistake in her letter. For I have not 
 contributed so much to the value of your picture of 
 St. Teresa as Madame la Comtesse has been generous 
 enough to declare. The composition is wholly her own, 
 as are the attitude of the Saint, the original sketch and 
 the whole idea. My only claim to merit is that from 
 time to time I have corrected some technical faults, 
 which is far from having made the poem ! I have the 
 honour, Madame, to be with respect, your very humble 
 and very obedient servant, 
 
 " F.-X. Fabre." * 
 
 The following pessimistic letter contains an early 
 example of the Countess' favourite description of herself 
 
 * PP- 323-326. 
 
 217 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 as " sitting at the window, to watch the magic-lantern 
 of the world without " : 
 
 " . . . The Revolution has disillusioned me concern- 
 ing all things. It is not that formerly I failed to realise 
 that nothing is certain in this world, but to have had 
 the actual experience of this before my very eyes has 
 wrought an indescribable effect on me. I care no longer 
 for anything, nor count upon anything. I exist from 
 day to day, since I can no longer depend on a settled 
 abode. I say ever to myself, 6 If I am here a month 
 hence / 9 But I find that what I have lost in one way, 
 I have gained in another, for I have discovered in myself 
 a force of character of which I never imagined myself 
 capable. I do not fear Death, but regard it with calm- 
 ness ; and instead of clinging the more to life as I grow 
 older, I find myself growing each day more detached 
 from it. The world is to me no more than a magic- 
 lantern. I watch it pass, as I sit at the window. Only 
 one thing do I fear, and if I did not fear that, I should 
 fear nothing : it is the loss of the Friend for whose sake 
 alone I live. I could, however, prefer to see him dead 
 rather than unhappy, because I love him for himself, 
 although his loss to me would be an overwhelming 
 blow." 
 
 Of Madame d'Albany's constant comments on the 
 much-abused, and no doubt very provoking Signore 
 Mocenni, one passage, taken from a letter of April II, 
 1801, to Luti, must suffice here. 
 
 " Our Saint Teresa is very good to receive the ' Bronto- 
 lone 9 in her country-house at Piano, but I pity her with 
 all my heart. Her patience surpasses that of all the Saints 
 who ever existed. I admire her for it, but at the same 
 time I could wish that he who exercises her virtue would 
 himself depart to Paradise to weary some other Saint ! 
 But nuisances like the 6 Brontolone 9 never die, and if 
 the Grumbler had been the least necessary to our Teresa, 
 218 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 he would have passed away ages ago. Indeed, it is 
 absolutely certain that those human beings who are 
 useless and mischievous are also indestructible. I believe 
 their own selfishness supplies them with an endless 
 fund of vitality." * 
 
 The last letter included in Monsieur Pelissier's collec- 
 tion bears the date of February 27, 1802, and is chiefly 
 concerned with the betrothal of Teresa's daughter, 
 Quirina, to Signore Ferdinando Magiotti, son of Major 
 Magiotti, of Montevarchi, and herein the Countess 
 alludes in the most disparaging terms to the bridegroom- 
 elect. 
 
 " I still know nothing of your marriage scheme, which 
 interests me much and which I recommend every Sunday 
 to the person who is negociating it. I could hope for 
 success, since you desire it, although I should never have 
 disposed of any daughter of mine to a fool of that type, 
 whose face would make me fly a hundred paces ! 
 
 " What would afford me pleasure in this arrangement 
 is that I should have the good fortune of seeing you in 
 Florence ; and I believe your daughter also would get 
 to like me on a closer acquaintance, provided she has 
 the same qualities as her mother. But you are totally 
 mistaken, my dear Teresa, allow me to tell you, as to 
 Rome and as to society in general. In Rome, as in all 
 other cities, a woman, whether she be noble or bourgeoise, 
 has no need of a protector, so long as she will remain 
 content with her own station, will stay at home and not 
 go gadding outside her own set. You were mistaken 
 in telling your daughter that the only difference in this 
 world is one between vice and virtue, for unhappily 
 this is a fallacy. ... If your daughter nurses any real 
 attachment of the heart, it is foolish for you to marry 
 her off thus, and rend her miserable. So long as the 
 old Magiotti father lives, he will remain master of the 
 
 * P . 368. 
 
 219 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 house, and an absolute and tiresome master into the 
 bargain. . . 
 
 This same letter contains a dissertation on priests, 
 which is not without the writer's usual common-sense. 
 
 " . . . Priests are not so black as they are painted, 
 and one must not judge them all by some of the country 
 parish-priests, who are ignorant and odious, leaders of 
 bigoted women and of silly men. From my own expe- 
 rience I have never yet met with one priest who has 
 given me other than excellent advice, since they all know 
 their duties thoroughly. The most narrow-minded 
 I have ever met are the Irish Dominicans, who come 
 out here straight from their native bogs and have not 
 a grain of common-sense. The English priests and bigots 
 are unendurable, and a thousand times more fanatical 
 than the Italian, who have the knack of accommodating 
 human weakness with celestial virtue. 
 
 " My brother-in-law has had a stroke of apoplexy, 
 but two cuppings in succession soon put him on his legs 
 again, so that he was off the next day to St. Peter's to 
 receive the coffin of Pius VI., which was attended with 
 unusual pomp. All the Frenchmen present were in 
 deep mourning, as an act of reparation for the late Pope's 
 treatment by their nation. Farewell, my Teresa, I 
 embrace you, and I cordially salute the Arch-priest ; 
 also the Poet and Fabre both salute you." * 
 
 That which is evidently the latest letter in this corre- 
 spondence is dated only " le 21," but from the allusions 
 contained therein as to Quirina Mocenni's imminent 
 marriage, it was probably written on July 21st, of the year 
 
 l802.f 
 
 " I thank our Quirina, my dear Teresa, for sending 
 me news of yourself during the time you were nursing 
 
 * pp. 428-431- 
 
 t Unpublished MSS. in Biblioteca Marucelliana, Florence (A. 146-536) 
 See Appendix of this work. 
 220 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 your husband, who will probably be sufficiently recovered 
 to start on Wednesday. You will suffer terribly from the 
 heat. The bridegroom awaits his bride with eager 
 impatience, like the bridegroom in the Song of Songs, 
 and they say he is in such a state of excitement that he 
 has to be kept calm with doses of melon-seeds ! . . ." 
 
 The Countess continues to make more contemptuous, 
 and indeed untranslatable, remarks about poor Quirina's 
 intended spouse, saying he is exactly like a donkey and 
 practically idiotic, remarks that own, however, some value 
 in affording further proof, if any such were needed, of 
 her personal disapproval of this particular match for her 
 friend's daughter, although some Italian writers still 
 persist in holding the Countess of Albany more or less 
 responsible for this unhappy marriage. 
 
 The letter concludes with an allusion to Fabre's 
 father, who was then at the point of death. 
 
 " We are stewing as usual in the heat, which shows 
 no sign of abating. You will find Fabre somewhat 
 depressed. His father, who was suffering from dropsy, 
 had a stroke of paralysis last Tuesday, and has lost the 
 power of speech and all feeling on one side. He is alive, 
 but as he was desperately ill last night, he may be dead 
 this morning, which will be a mercy both for himself 
 and for his sons ; for an invalid in such a condition is 
 miserable himself and renders those around him miser- 
 able also. His wife is in despair, for her husband was 
 her only resource, since she has no friends here, and 
 women of her class hate to spend solitary evenings. 
 Farewell, my dear Teresa, till we have the pleasure of 
 seeing you here. Keep well. A thousand kind messages 
 to Quirina. 
 
 " P.S. — I salute the Arch-priest, who (I hear) has 
 given his benediction on this extraordinary marriage ! " 
 
 This letter, poking constant fun at the matrimonial 
 prospects of her friend's daughter, is apparently the last 
 
 221 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of the series. Teresa and her husband duly attended 
 their daughter's wedding on August 20, but soon after 
 the ceremony Madame Mocenni, whose health had long 
 been failing with dropsical symptoms, fell ill and finally 
 died on September 20, being buried in the family chapel 
 of Sant' Ansano, on the River Arbia. Her loss naturally 
 came as a severe blow to the Countess, whose succeeding 
 letters to the Arch-priest are filled with laments for her 
 late friend. 
 
 " It is some consolation to me, my dear Arch-priest, 
 to talk with you of my loved Teresa, who has been the 
 victim of a brutal husband. This dear friend of mine 
 was to have reached Florence on my festa, and she actually 
 died on my birthday, always a melancholy anniver- 
 sary for me. I shall mourn all my life for this ex- 
 cellent friend, whom I was so looking forward to seeing 
 again. 
 
 " I cannot grow accustomed to the thought that we 
 have lost our friend. I expect all the women of Siena 
 are condoling with you over her loss. She was a woman 
 above all prejudices, with certain qualities beyond her 
 own station and standard. She had a sound judgment, 
 and she only required a little more knowledge of the 
 world and a wider acquaintance with the great theatre 
 of life. . . . 
 
 " I cannot reconcile myself, my dear Arch-priest, 
 to the thought that our Teresa is no more. I suppose 
 Providence always acts for the best, yet it is awful to 
 observe how it leaves the evil in this world, and carries 
 off the necessary and the good. By ever punishing and 
 harassing the innocent, it renders the guilty pros- 
 perous. . . . 
 
 " I do not think our Teresa ever wrote anything, nor 
 was she highly cultivated. She had wonderful natural 
 gifts, and was marvellous considering her defective 
 education ; but her learning was mediocre, and she had 
 not much time for self-instruction on account of her 
 222 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 many household duties. But she was a rare woman, 
 both in heart and mind." * 
 
 It may be mentioned here that after Teresa's death, 
 the Countess continued to correspond with the Arch- 
 priest Luti for more than four years, although the poor 
 old priest had become half-paralysed, and so helpless 
 that he was cruelly nicknamed " il mezzo-prete " by his 
 acquaintances. He died in February 1807, when the 
 Chevalier Alessandro Cerretani took his place as her 
 chief correspondent at Siena. To this new friend the 
 Countess therefore expresses her hope that Luti died 
 in full faith and without any doubts as to the future : 
 " Tell me, I beg you, if the Arch-priest expired in peace ? 
 He seemed to me not very firm in his belief. Was he 
 convinced ? For myself, I do not see how one can doubt 
 for a moment." 
 
 This question was apparently answered by Cerretani 
 to the satisfaction of the Countess, who observes in her 
 next letter of March 24 : "I am delighted to learn that 
 the Arch-priest was not tormented by useless fears in his 
 dying hours. He has evidently made the edifying end, 
 that is a duty incumbent on us all." f 
 
 In another letter, the Countess again reverts to the 
 loss of her Teresa, who would have comforted her at 
 Luti's death. " My ill-luck is persistent, for had my 
 Teresa been alive, she would have shared my tears. How 
 tenderly I loved her ! . . ." X 
 
 The sequel to Madame d' Albany's professed devotion 
 to Teresa and her children, which has been set forth 
 endlessly in her letters, must be briefly given here. In 
 spite of her loud and apparently sincere lamentations 
 over " that poor woman, who was truly unique," it is 
 strange to record that the intimate affection towards 
 
 * Lettere Inedite di V. Jlfieri. Appendix, pp. 283, 284. 
 
 t C. Milanesi, Mfieri in Siena, 
 
 XJbidem. 
 
 223 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 the mother was only in a very limited degree extended 
 to the children, whom Teresa had especially commended 
 to her influential friend, and in whose welfare the Coun- 
 tess had always hitherto expressed a warm concern. The 
 subsequent attitude of the Countess of Albany towards 
 Vittorio and Quirina Mocenni makes a mean and un- 
 gracious story, which it is regrettable that we are com- 
 pelled to notice here, though in an endeavour to obtain 
 a fair and full estimate of the character and career of 
 the Stuart Reine cPAngleterre, it must in duty be tran- 
 scribed in this place. 
 
 After her Teresa's death, her old confidant in Florence 
 continued to direct letters to Vittorio Mocenni, a promis- 
 ing lad with a pronounced taste for science and litera- 
 ture. The kindly and encouraging tone of these letters 
 not unnaturally induced the young fellow to assume 
 that so prominent and wealthy a personage as the Coun- 
 tess would be willing to do all that was possible in aiding 
 his future prospects. In such an expectation, however, 
 Vittorio Mocenni soon found himself grievously mis- 
 taken, when a special request of his to the Countess to 
 use her influence for the obtaining of a certain official 
 post was met with a reply so cold, grudging and in- 
 different as practically to amount to a downright refusal 
 of his plea. 
 
 " My dear Sir," she writes to her Teresa's favourite 
 son and Alfieri's godson, " surely you do not mean to 
 ask me to apply to persons I do not know, when I can 
 barely obtain interest with my own friends? You are 
 fully aware there are some people I do not care to 
 approach. Besides, the man who bestows the kind of 
 place you require is unknown to me. I have spoken to 
 Puccini on your behalf, and he tells me that, since it 
 is the Commune which is concerned with this type of 
 post, it will be very hard to obtain one. Believe me, 
 you must try to make your own way without applying 
 to others, You have 3 good career before vou, and one 
 224 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 that ought to render you independent of assistance. 
 Keep well, and count on my interest." * 
 
 A month later the Countess in a cold brief note gives 
 the importunate youth the same unfeeling and un- 
 sympathetic advice, telling him she can be of no further 
 help to him. Disappointed and disillusioned in his dead 
 mother's chosen friend, Vittorio Mocenni ceased to 
 apply ; duly took his medical degree at Pisa in 1 809 ; 
 and died a year later at Milan at the early age of twenty- 
 six. 
 
 What could have been the true cause of this cold and 
 callous conduct towards poor Vittorio, whom she had 
 so constantly instructed and lectured in his mother's life- 
 time ? Was the high-born queen of a brilliant Florentine 
 salon, the widow of a de jure king, tired of her connection 
 — though a connection of her own choosing — with these 
 bourgeois people of Siena ? Was her loudly expressed 
 affection for Teresa Mocenni limited solely to the woman 
 whilst she was still living and able to afford distraction 
 to the great lady, who had invited her friendship and her 
 confidence ? Had the young Vittorio unwittingly com- 
 mitted some unpardonable offence, some serious breach 
 of etiquette, that had suddenly caused the Countess 
 thus to veer round and to turn a deaf ear to the entreaties 
 of her friend's favourite son ? It is impossible to tell 
 the cause of her conduct, but we have some means to 
 enable us to form our judgment in this matter from the 
 Countess' treatment of the sister, of whose ill-starred 
 marriage we have lately spoken. With a semi-idiotic 
 husband and a hard forbidding and avaricious father-in- 
 law, poor Quirina Mocenni-Magiotti was already leading 
 a life of mingled misery and monotony, but instead of 
 seeking to console her or to alleviate the hardness of her 
 lot in a thousand ways such as the Countess well under- 
 stood, Madame d' Albany seems actually to find a pleasure 
 
 *R. Tomei-Finamore, La Comtesse <P Albany,^ c. Rivista Abruzzese, 
 1892, p. 326. 
 
 P 225 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 that is almost malicious in enlarging to Luti upon the 
 domestic troubles of Quirina and her squalid household, 
 prying into and commenting on the miserable married 
 life of her friend's favourite daughter, and that in spite 
 of the apparently affectionate letters she occasionally 
 wrote to young Madame Magiotti herself.* For Quirina 
 was indeed, even on the Countess' own 'showing, far 
 from unworthy of the care and affection which the dead 
 Teresa had evidently hoped the Countess would lavish 
 on her child. 
 
 " I have just seen our Quirina," she writes on 
 December II, 1802, to Luti, less than three months 
 after Teresa's death. " I am pleased with her. She 
 has agreeable manners. She talks well, and seems to 
 feel her mother's loss deeply. She is a little like her 
 mother ; not pretty, but with a good figure." Naturally, 
 her young married daughter could not be expected 
 to fill the void caused by Teresa's death, yet for that 
 dead friend's sake surely the Countess might, and should 
 have made some strong effort to lighten her sad lot, to 
 sympathise with her, and to assist her in certain delicate 
 matters, wherein Madame d'Albany's long experience 
 would have been of the greatest value. 
 
 But on March 19, 1803, the Countess slyly hints to 
 Luti : " I believe Quirina yearns desperately for a 
 cavaliere servente ! But such creatures are rare, and 
 she herself is not pretty. Her complexion in particular 
 is bad, and she owns no charm save her youth. . . . 
 
 " The loss of her mother has been a great misfortune 
 for her. Her presence here would have been most useful 
 in establishing her, and in helping her to make pleasant 
 acquaintances. As for myself, I cannot undertake this 
 task for her, since I no longer go into society, and having 
 renounced social worries, I have no intention of troubling 
 myself. I am too elderly." 
 
 Alas, one can only attribute this open confession of 
 neglect and indifference to a cold and selfish nature, 
 * For these letters, see Vitelleschi, pp. 599-602. 
 
 226 
 
Teresa Mocenni 
 
 which declines to take the least trouble on behalf of an 
 unhappy young woman, even though she happen to be 
 the dearest daughter of her dearest friend. 
 
 Yet if Quirina's difficult position failed to draw any 
 mark of practical sympathy from the Countess, the poor 
 creature's domestic afflictions afforded her an endless 
 source of satirical comment in her letters to Luti. 
 Much as she had formerly nicknamed her Teresa's 
 husband the " Brontolone," so now she took to calling 
 Quirina's stern parent-in-law the " Cerberus " ; — " A 
 busy spy and tell-tale of other peoples' affairs, especially 
 those of women," such is the biting stricture of one 
 Italian writer who hated the Countess ; and certainly 
 her obvious satisfaction in discussing the miseries of 
 Madame Magiotti helps one to understand such a remark, 
 even if it were grossly exaggerated. In later years 
 Quirina returned the Countess' secret malevolence 
 with interest, warning her lover, Ugo Foscolo, against 
 Madame d'Albany's specious professions of friendship. 
 " She is a spiteful, gossiping, heartless woman. I warned 
 you against her a thousand times when you were at Milan, 
 and I had a thousand good reasons for so doing." * 
 
 But the story of the relations between the Countess 
 of Albany, Quirina Mocenni and Ugo Foscolo will be 
 fully related and commented on in another chapter. 
 
 * R. Tomei-Finamore. Op cit. Reumont remarks that " there is some 
 exaggeration but also some truth in this statement." 
 
 227 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 LAST DAYS OF ALFIERI 
 
 " Truly, if the great poet of Asti could visit the marble of the 
 sepulchre, that his Friend with royal munificence erected to him 
 in Santa Croce by the hand of Antonio Canova, and could 
 realise the indifference, if not actual oblivion, wherewith his 
 countrymen have surrounded the memory of Her for whom he 
 hoped an immortality, such as befel Bice Portinari or Laura de 
 Noves, he would be grievously disappointed ! " — E. del Cerro 
 V Arnica di Alfieri, {Conversazione delta Domenica, July 1886.) 
 
 The letters of the Countess to her friend Teresa Mocenni 
 quoted in the last chapter have already afforded us a 
 glimpse into the domestic life of Casa Alfieri during the 
 evil years of the French invasion of Italy, and from 
 them we can easily realise the fierce resentment and 
 anxiety experienced by the pair, but especially by Alfieri, 
 whose hatred of the French had grown into a perfect 
 obsession. Throughout the years 1797 and 1798 he was 
 vainly looking for a victory, whether on Italian soil or on 
 the Mediterranean, which would serve to crush the 
 Republic, now firmly seated in Italy by the terms of the 
 Treaty of Campo Formio. But despite the hopes 
 aroused by the departure of the dreaded and detested 
 Napoleon Buonaparte to Egypt in May, 1798, affairs in 
 Italy seemed to go from bad to worse, when in March 
 of the following year, 1799, General Scherer from Mantua 
 issued his proclamation to the people of Tuscany, condemn- 
 ing the inaction of the vacillating Grand-Duke Ferdinand 
 III. (in spite of the latter's warm professions of devotion 
 to the French Government), and announcing a forth- 
 coming invasion of Tuscany in a peaceful spirit for the 
 228 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 true advantage of that country. This news fell like a 
 thunderbolt on the Grand-Duke, who in fear and tremb- 
 ling at once published a manifesto calling on his subjects 
 to admit the expected French troops with every mark of 
 respect. Accordingly, on March 25, the republican army 
 under Generals Gauthier and Miollis arrived at the 
 Porta San Gallo, escorted by the rabble of Florence crying 
 out " Morte ai codini ! " (Death to the aristocrats !), 
 made a prisoner of the Grand-Duke, who was allowed 
 twenty-four hours wherein to evacuate his capital for 
 ever ; and set up the tree of liberty in the Piazza della 
 Signoria, the historic square before the great Palazzo 
 Vecchio. A number of sweeping decrees of a revolu- 
 tionary nature were now promulgated by the conquering 
 force, and as each of these began with the formula 
 " Nous voulons " (we will), the sharp-witted Florentines 
 promptly christened these invaders and also their sym- 
 pathisers in the city as the Nuvoloni, a name that clung 
 and was used in opposition to the term Codini, or old- 
 fashioned aristocrats.* 
 
 With the loathed nation thus in practical possession of 
 his place of residence, the indignation and disgust of 
 Alfieri may be imagined. To remain in Florence under 
 such circumstances seemed insupportable to him, and 
 he had accordingly made beforehand all arrangements 
 for his retirement in such an event, rather than to be 
 called on to endure the odious chance of having officers 
 of the French army, or officials of the new provisional 
 government of Tuscany quartered in his house. A few hours 
 before the actual appearance of the invaders therefore, 
 Alfieri and the Countess, having packed or hidden all their 
 belongings, left Casa Alfieri to take up their abode in a 
 villa at Montughi, a spot about a mile and a half to the 
 north-east of the Porta San Gallo, whereby the French 
 entered Florence amid the acclamations of the mob on 
 Lady Day, 1799. Here, vainly trying to turn a deaf ear 
 to the alarming reports of the revolutionary doings in the 
 * G. Conti, Firenze Vecehia, p. 10. 
 
 229 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 city, the pair sought to distract and console themselves 
 by a severe and well-defined course of study, the poet 
 working with a pathetic ardour at his Greek and the 
 Countess occupying herself with her habitual reading 
 and writing. In this manner then they endeavoured to 
 meet their troubles and chagrin in the true spirit of philo- 
 sophy. " Oppressed, but not subdued, by the universal 
 tyranny," says Alfieri, " we settled in our villa with only 
 a few servants, I and the sweet Half of Myself ; and we 
 both set ourselves resolutely to study, for she is fairly 
 cognisant of English and German ; knows both French 
 and Italian equally well ; is fully versed in the literature 
 of these four races ; and has some acquaintance through 
 translations with the classics." * Of her friend's occu- 
 pation, Madame d'Albany, who evidently found his 
 latest craze to acquire Greek, somewhat trying, writes 
 thus in a humorous vein, to the Abbe di Caluso : — " Our 
 Friend has no need of witnesses to assure you of his genuine 
 application to Greek, for I notice it every moment of 
 the day ! All is become Greek for us now, at table and 
 out driving ; everything possesses its Greek name, and 
 he has nothing in his mouth but Greek declensions 
 and conjugations. Now, at last being better versed 
 in the tongue, he grows calmer ; and I feel sure he 
 will acquire all the Greek that is possible for a man 
 who has begun to learn that language at so mature an 
 age." t 
 
 Of her own quiet and studious existence in the villa at 
 Montughi, the Countess gives a brief description to 
 Teresa Mocenni in a letter written during this period of 
 retreat. 
 
 * Vita, vol. ii. p. 265. This passage concerning the linguistic abilities 
 of the Countess of Albany has given rise to many satirical witticisms on the 
 attainments of that lady, seeing how imperfectly she wrote both in French 
 and Italian. Says Bertana : " One can judge of her proficiency in English 
 and German from her skill in French and Italian ! 99 
 
 t Mazzatinti, p. 331. Note. — This quotation is a postscript by the 
 Countess to a letter from Alfieri himself to Caluso, describing his progress 
 in the study of Greek. 
 230 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 " My health is good, and we are living quietly in the 
 country. I have seen no further sign of military pre- 
 parations, for I have not set foot in Florence since the 
 twenty-fifth of March, the day of our departure, and I 
 have never walked beyond our own fodere or that of 
 our neighbours. I pass from my writing-table to the 
 garden, and from the garden to meals, after which I 
 return again to the garden. I go to bed at half-past nine 
 and rise at half-past four in the morning. I almost lead 
 the life of a nun, except that instead of singing the praises 
 of God I admire his handiwork, and follow in books, step by 
 step, those who have admired it before me with a deeper 
 knowledge. Milton was thoroughly permeated with 
 the sublime nature of the Deity, and magnifies it with 
 enthusiasm in his poem of Paradise Lost, which I am 
 reading with intense pleasure. The operations of man- 
 kind appear of such slight significance when one con- 
 siders the immensity of the globe and of the stars ; a 
 fact that we now see proved in the mischief wrought by 
 men's hands during the past ten years. All that is quickly 
 made, is quickly destroyed ; such is the law of Nature." * 
 
 As to the daily course of reading in which the Countess 
 indulges, we are enlightened yet further by her account 
 in a letter to Teresa Mocenni, written a few months 
 before the retirement to the Florentine villa. 
 
 " As soon as I get my remittance from Rome, I shall set 
 to again and purchase a second library. I have already 
 collected five or six hundred volumes, but I want to see 
 once more my three thousand books, which was the extent 
 of my library in Paris. I shall send you a catalogue of my 
 books to make your choice from, but if you will entrust 
 yourself to my supervision, I shall prescribe a course of 
 reading for you which will enable you to^classify your 
 studies in your head. As for myself, I began with the 
 Bible and all works appertaining to it, such as the History 
 * Pelissier, pp. 176, 177. 
 
 23I 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of the Jews, by Josephus ; the History of the Jews and their 
 Relations with foreign Nations, by Prideaux, a very interest- 
 ing work ; but this little Palestine, the home of the 
 Jewish people, was tormented by its neighbours and yet 
 showed great powers of resistance. Josephus' descrip- 
 tion of the siege of Jerusalem under Titus is a piece of 
 history well worth reading. I have also read other books 
 dealing with the Jews, including the Moeurs des Israelites, 
 by Fleury. Having completed my studies in this 
 direction, I began upon ecclesiastical history, so as to 
 understand our own religion and the origin of ecclesiastical 
 laws. Moscherni's treatise on this subject particularly 
 interested me. I have also skimmed through Fleury, a 
 Roman Catholic, for the former writer is a Lutheran. 
 Having finished this great undertaking, I approached 
 Herodotus, with a full history of Greece, by Gillies, that I 
 am now reading ; after which I shall take Thucydides, 
 Xenophon, &c. I always, however, read prose and 
 poetry on alternate days, so as to undergo a course of epic 
 poetry, starting with Homer, Vergil, the Thehaid, the 
 Argonauts, and then the modern poets according to their 
 dates — Camoens, Tasso, Milton, the Henriade of Voltaire 
 and the like. Last week, I have begun to read Greek 
 drama, using French, English and Italian translations of 
 the plays. There, my Teresa, is the order of my 
 studies ! Early in the morning, before rising from 
 bed and during odd moments in the day, I also read some 
 works of the present time." 
 
 Early in July, 1799, military reverses in Lombardy, 
 due to the absence of Buonaparte in the Orient, rather 
 unexpectedly compelled the French troops to evacuate 
 Florence, to the delight and exultation of the recluse 
 sulking at Montughi, who joyfully announces the welcome 
 departure of the invaders to the Abbe di Caluso, (who, 
 it may be remarked, had lately submitted to the new 
 Republican Government at Turin, and had freely 
 surrendered all his benefices). 
 232 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 "... I have spent the 102 days of the French tyranny- 
 over Florence entirely in a villa near the Capuchim 
 convent at Montughi, in fine air ; nor did I once 
 set foot in the city till July 6th, which was the day of 
 its purification. At present I still live at the villa, but 
 sometimes I descend into Florence, and especially on 
 every occasion when Austrian troops arrive, so as to 
 witness the transports, the jubilee and the genuine 
 delight of the whole people in their liberators, although 
 the men of Arezzo have done even more than the Aus- 
 trians. Tuscany is now wholly free from the invader, and 
 the sun once more turns his face in splendour upon 
 us." * 
 
 Alfieri's content was fated to be of short duration. 
 In the spring of the following year, 1800, Buonaparte 
 returned from Egypt, again crossed the Alps, and by the 
 decisive victory of Marengo on June 14, laid the whole 
 of Italy prostrate before him. Once more the French 
 troops under General Miollis were in command of Florence, 
 whither the deposed Grand-Duke Ferdinand had most 
 prudently not yet ventured to return, whilst the ultimate 
 fate of Tuscany and of its capital was left hanging in the 
 political balance to await the pleasure and decision of the 
 victor. This most trying state of uncertainty, to which 
 the Countess makes such frequent allusion in her letters 
 to Teresa Mocenni, lasted for nearly two years, and the 
 constant suspense induced thereby helped greatly to 
 shorten the life of Alfieri, already harassed by cares of 
 money, and by fears perhaps not wholly ungrounded of 
 some political act of revenge upon himself. It is evident 
 from her letters that the Countess of Albany must have 
 passed through a most anxious and troublesome period 
 during these last few years of her companion's existence. 
 The natural violence and irritability of the poet grew 
 more marked with his rapidly declining health, so that 
 acquaintances, friends, and even his beloved lady were 
 * Mazzatinti, p. 345. 
 
 233 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 sometimes made to feel the weight of his savage and 
 capricious temper. For reasons of economy forced to 
 put down his saddle horses, he was wont to wander in all 
 weathers outside the gates of Florence, or in the dank 
 chilly churches filled with monuments of illustrious 
 Italians dead and gone. In these solitary rambles his 
 embittered soul found some degree of consolation in com- 
 posing satirical verse, as when he watched the droves of 
 swine wallowing in the mire outside Porta Pinti, and in 
 one of his sonnets compared the Tuscan porkers with the 
 " tiger-monkeys " of France, to the disadvantage of the 
 latter. Hating to be accompanied in these lonely walks, 
 even by his lady, people would watch the patriot-poet 
 muttering to himself his wayward fancies, and smile or 
 sigh according to their disposition ; or else some enthu- 
 siastic reader of his tragedies, such us Ugo Foscolo, would 
 follow the roving bard in secret to note his gestures of 
 anger or despair. And if abroad he appeared a solitary 
 and a misanthrope, in his own house he often must have 
 been regarded as a veritable ogre by any luckless wight 
 who was bold enough to seek an interview or a favour. 
 The poor actor Antonio Morrochesi, in some theatrical 
 reminiscences,* gives a ludicrous account of Alfieri's 
 refusal to see him concerning a proposed performance 
 of his own tragedy of Saul. The sound of the in- 
 furiated Count's voice, within his library, promptly con- 
 signing him to the devil, was enough to scare the expec- 
 tant actor outside the door and to send him flying in 
 haste down the richly carpeted stairway (which seems to 
 have greatly impressed the poor suppliant as a curious 
 fad in so great a genius), without daring to show himself 
 in person. For the same reason, too, Melchiorre Delfino, 
 the learned historian of San Marino, positively declined 
 an introduction to Alfieri on seeing him abuse and be- 
 labour some boy for accidentally splashing his silk stock- 
 
 * V. Alfieri in Firenze. This little work contains an amusing account 
 of the poet's violence, and also of his generosity, one of his redeeming 
 virtues. 
 
 234 
 
ALFIERI IN HIS LAST DAYS 
 From the portrait by F. X. Fabre 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 ings with water from a puddle. The poet continually 
 cuffed and reviled his servants on the smallest provoca- 
 tion, and merely expressed his regret for his brutality 
 towards them by leaving stray coins in conspicuous 
 places of his rooms for them to pocket. That he showed 
 himself rude and inconsiderate to his lady goes without 
 saying, and this attitude was sometimes even extended 
 to her guests in Casa Alfieri, as in the case of the great 
 linguist Mezzofanti. His eccentricity kept pace with his 
 uncontrollable violence, for, always sensitive to the 
 effects of heat and cold, he had his clothes specially 
 arranged with tapes and ribbons, so that portions of 
 them could be removed by his servants from any part of 
 his body, should a particular member feel too warm or to 
 chilly.* He became in short a human fiend of egotism, 
 selfishness and bad temper ; a veritable Eastern potentate 
 whose every wish was law ; and whose constant out- 
 bursts of passion made the whole house suffer from the 
 poor Countess of Albany down to the meanest servant in 
 his employment. That Alfieri had genuine good qualities 
 none will deny. He was honourable in all his dealings, 
 and never made his reduced finances an excuse for running 
 into debt. He was generous in the extreme to the 
 Countess, who from the time of Cardinal York's flight 
 from Rome, in 1798, must have been left for a short period 
 absolutely penniless ; a catastrophe which Lady Holland, 
 who knew her well at this time, says she bore cheerfully 
 and without complaint. Yet in spite of all, the Countess 
 in her confidential correspondence with her Sienese 
 friends continually harps on her ever-present fear of the 
 death of Alfieri, for whose sake alone (so she solemnly 
 avers) she desires to cling to an existence that the present 
 political troubles had made odious to her. Although 
 scarcely past fifty years of age, the poet was evidently 
 failing, and his constitution, already somewhat enfeebled, 
 was being heavily over-taxed by his constant and un- 
 reasonable devotion to study, by his financial cares, by 
 * G. Biagi, Aneddotti Letterari (Alfieriana, p. 180). 
 
 2 35 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 his political hatreds and disappointments, and by his 
 exhausting fits of anger and resentment 
 
 In the autumn of 1801, Alfieri was seized with his 
 first severe attack, which was partly, at least, due to his 
 over-zealous study of the classics. The skill and atten- 
 tion of Doctor Edouard Fabre managed to save the 
 patient on this occasion, but there can be little doubt 
 that from this time onward he was a doomed man, who 
 was hastening his end by his own restlessness and im- 
 prudence. 
 
 "The Poet," writes Madame d'Albany to Theresa 
 Mocenni on September 12, 1801, "has been ill. His 
 gout has flown to his chest, and he has had a bad cough 
 followed by loss of blood, which has troubled him greatly. 
 He has also suffered much from his head, all the result of 
 over-working during the last month. So foolish of him ! 
 The craving to write and to study is the only passion 
 that is increased by its use, and one carries it to excess ; 
 that is what our Poet has done. And therefore for the 
 last week he has not been allowed so much as to open a 
 book, as the result of having opened too many of 
 them." 
 
 Again, a week later, Madamed' Albany cannot givea much 
 improved account to her friend at Siena. " The Poet is a 
 little better, but his illness has greatly alarmed me. He 
 has lost a little blood, and the gout has again flown to his 
 chest, the result of a movement of his head, which has 
 brought the blood to the upper regions." 
 
 It was Doctor Fabre, as we have said, who contrived 
 to restore Alfieri on this occasion ; and on October 3, the 
 Countess is able to report his convalescence. 
 
 " The Poet is quite well. Dr. Fabre has cured him, 
 by giving him some pills, which have greatly benefited 
 his digestion, which was his weak spot, because he worked 
 too much and rested too little, like so many men of 
 letters." 
 
 It is needless to state again that the political views of 
 236 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 the once-ardent republican poet had undergone a com- 
 plete revulsion under stress of the events following upon 
 the French Revolution. The hater of kings and courts, 
 who had once expressed his contempt of poor old Metas- 
 tasio for making too obsequious a bow to the great 
 Empress Maria-Teresa and who had expatriated himself 
 from his own native land of Piedmont on account of the 
 humiliating restrictions imposed by the Sardinian monar- 
 chy, had absolutely turned his political coat. He was 
 now one of the first to hasten and pay his homage to the 
 amiable but bigoted old King Charles-Emmanuel, who 
 had sought asylum in Florence after his expulsion from 
 his capital of Turin. " Voici votre tyran ! " were the 
 words wherewith the fallen monarch, once the butt of 
 Alfieri's hatred and contempt, greeted with good-natured 
 irony his ex-subject, as he saw the poet approach to salute 
 him at the villa of Poggio Imperiale. So altered were his 
 views and so bitter his detestation of the French, that 
 Alfieri absolutely refused to make the acquaintance of 
 General Miollis, the new commandant of Florence, a 
 man of most upright and ascetic life, an ideal republican, 
 who spurned all the luxury that Italy could offer, and 
 moreover a man of letters and knowledge, who had 
 expressed himself as anxious to make Alfieri's acquain- 
 tance. The incident is described at some length in the 
 pages of the Vita, where the writer speaks of his attitude 
 of stern refusal with intense satisfaction. 
 
 Miollis, having vainly called at Casa Alfieri, finally 
 wrote a polite note to the author of the Miso-Gallo, 
 begging him to name an hour when it would be con- 
 venient to receive him privately as a guest eager to make 
 the personal acquaintance of so great a genius. To this 
 Alfieri replied, that if Miollis, as military master of the 
 vanquished city of Florence, were to command his presence, 
 he would be compelled to attend at the Citadel ; but if 
 on the other hand the General's request had only been 
 made for private reasons, then the poet begged to be 
 excused the honour of the proposed interview. In case 
 
 2 37 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 the General might be led to call again at the house on the 
 Lung' Arno, Alfieri had caused to be suspended near the 
 entrance a large placard printed and signed by himself, 
 stating that " Vittorio Alfieri, not being a public charac- 
 ter and presuming himself to be his own master, at least 
 in his own house, gives notice to all comers that he does 
 not receive persons he does not know ; nor messages, 
 parcels, and letters, save from those who are his 
 friends." * 
 
 This piece of gratuitous rudeness was met with quiet 
 dignity on the part of the soldier insulted, who will 
 in the opinion of all fair-minded people probably be 
 admitted as the victor in this curious passage of arms 
 between an Italian poet and a French general. 
 
 " In reading the tragedies of Vittorio Alfieri," was 
 Miollis' reply to Alfieri's note ; " I thought him a 
 different sort of man, and I therefore desired his ac- 
 quaintance. Realising now his true nature, I have no 
 longer that desire. — Miollis, General commanding 
 in Tuscany. Brumaire 30, An IX." 
 
 Alfieri's own version of this ridiculous and not very 
 creditable incident is styled by himself to his own com- 
 plete satisfaction, "Dialogue between a Lion in a Cage 
 {Alfieri) and his Keeper, a Crocodile (Miollis)" f 
 
 The year 1801 saw further troubles piling themselves 
 up to add to the mingled alarm and irritation of Casa 
 Alfieri. Before the close of this year the poet learned to 
 his deep distress of the sudden death of his young nephew, 
 the Count of Cumiana, his sister's only son, and conse- 
 quently the heir-male of the ancient family of Alfieri of 
 Cortemilia. This sad event greatly affected him, for 
 he was now suffering much, partly as the result of bad 
 health and partly from the lowness of spirits induced by 
 the passing events in the political world. The treaty of 
 Luneville, to which the exhausted Emperor had been 
 thankful to accede in February, finally settled the fate 
 
 * Vita II., pp. 280, 281. Teza, Vita, Letter e e Giornali, p. 447. 
 t Mazzatinti, Le Carte Alfieriane. 
 
 238 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 of Tuscany, that had so long remained unsolved. By this 
 compact all hope of a restoration of the exiled Ferdinand 
 III. was dissipated, for the omnipotent Napoleon now 
 declared the former Grand-Duchy a kingdom under the 
 name of the Kingdom of Etruria, with Louis de 
 Bourbon, Prince of Parma, for its first nominal sovereign, 
 who would in reality be merely a puppet of French 
 policy. The news was received with deep misgiving and 
 vexation in Casa Alfieri, whereof the Countess relieves 
 her mind to her friend Teresa Mocenni in the following 
 dismal epistle. 
 
 "... The Peace has satisfied nobody here. They 
 have sung Te Deums and given assemblies, but nobody 
 attended them. We have no cause for congratulation 
 at this fresh treaty, which is as hateful as every other act 
 of the conquerors. It is but a truce, which will only last 
 until some favourable event can deliver us, or until the 
 House of Austria is grown sufficiently powerful again to re- 
 commence the war. The French have never succeeded 
 in remaining long in Italy, and though at this moment 
 they are its absolute masters, they will only pillage it and 
 devour it hastily, so as to get more money to spend in 
 France without taxing Buonaparte's subjects. Our Arch- 
 priest (whom I salute) will be truly glad to see a reduction 
 in the garrison of occupation at Siena. We have just seen 
 a number of the soldiers of the Cisalpine Republic pass 
 by on their way to their homes. They have notified their 
 presence here by looting some shops during the only night 
 they stopped in Florence. One cannot imagine how so 
 undisciplined an army can last intact. 
 
 " Tiriamo avanti con coraggio. We have our moments of 
 despair, the Poet and I. Right am I in saying, ' the 
 world has ever been the same ' ; but I could well have 
 been spared the spectacle of these late and repeated 
 scenes. We have spent thirty (sic) years of our life so 
 happily, that Fate might indeed have left us to end our 
 career in the same state. The Grand-Duke's lot is much 
 
 239 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 to be pitied in having to surrender so fair a realm, the 
 heritage of his ancestors, simply because it suited Consul 
 Buonaparte's whim, after he had invaded the country 
 during an armistice ! Ah, what injustice from above and 
 below ! If I had been devote, the experiences of the 
 past ten years would have turned me into an infidel ! 
 Adieu, Arch-priest, the world is a vile thing. . . . 
 
 " Our poor Grand-Duke is in despair at the idea of 
 never returning to Tuscany, whilst the Grand-Duchess 
 weeps night and day. Torregiani, who has returned 
 here, told me this. That poor prince keeps on saying, 
 ' 1 was -prepared for everything save that ! ' " 
 
 The following year was rendered less melancholy to the 
 master and mistress of Casa Alfieri by the welcome 
 presence of their beloved friend and faithful corres- 
 pondent, the Abbe di Caluso, who paid a special visit to 
 Florence in order to be with the poet, now slowly sinking 
 into the grave, as was evident to all around him. Yet the 
 indomitable nature of the man triumphed over physical 
 weakness. He led the same life as of old ; walking, 
 riding and driving ; spent hours daily in his library 
 writing a series of comedies, revising former works, and 
 studying the Greek authors with an almost childish delight 
 in the latest accomplishment of his tireless industry. So 
 pleased was he with his prowess in this dead language, 
 and so elated with the discriminating praise bestowed 
 upon his labours by the Abbe di Caluso, that one of the 
 last acts of his life, and indeed, the very last incident 
 mentioned by him in the Autobiography he was inditing, 
 was his playful invention of a mock Order — " the Order 
 of Homer " — which he bestowed upon himself as a reward 
 for his application in mastering Greek at the age of fifty. 
 The collar of this novel decoration, which the poet occa- 
 sionally wore round his neck, was of gold set with gems 
 and engraved with the names of twenty-four poets of 
 various nations and periods, whilst on its pendant was a 
 cameo portrait of Homer. With his habitual infantile 
 240 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 conceit, Alfieri composed a Greek elegiac couplet ex- 
 tolling his new invention, which may roughly be rendered 
 thus : 
 
 To call me a genuine knight were no great misnomer, 
 When I vested myself with the Order of Homer.* 
 
 This description of the Order of Homer concludes the 
 self-told story of Alfieri's life as inscribed and explained 
 by himself, and it bears the date " May 14, 1803." The 
 sands were now indeed running out fast, and the poet was 
 growing daily more feeble and irritable, and leaving un- 
 heeded the entreaties of his lady, who did what was 
 possible to urge her companion to a more reasonable 
 mode of living. To the last he was engaged upon his 
 Autobiography, and scarcely had he completed this work 
 to the point already mentioned than, whilst out driving 
 on the afternoon of October 3, he caught a severe chill in 
 the stomach, which at last compelled him to keep his 
 bed. All that the devotion of the Countess and the skill 
 of Dr. Edouard Fabre could compass was done ; but 
 Alfieri was quick to perceive that this illness of his was 
 mortal, whereupon he prepared to meet death with some- 
 thing of the old Roman fortitude he had so extolled 
 in his dramas. Perhaps he was really pleased that the 
 boon he had so often prayed for, at least on paper, that 
 his own death might precede that of his lady, was now 
 likely to be realised. On his sick-bed, whilst he was 
 being tenderly nursed by the Countess, his thoughts went 
 out to the dearly beloved Abbe di Caluso, his oldest 
 surviving friend, and though suffering and feeble he was 
 able to compose an affectionate letter of farewell with a 
 certain most particular request to the Abbe. 
 
 " As I am expecting almost daily to succumb to the 
 desperate illness that is now consuming me, I have 
 thought it well to leave these few lines to be given to you 
 in proof that to my very last moment on earth you were 
 present in my mind and were very dear to my heart. 
 * Vita, vol. ii. pp. 301-303. 
 
 Q 241 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 " The Personage, whom above everything else in this 
 world I have venerated and loved, can some day tell you 
 the details of my illness. I implore and conjure you to 
 do all in your power to visit and console her, and to 
 arrange with her concerning the various requests I have 
 made with regard to my writings. 
 
 " At this moment I do not want to give you further pain 
 by telling you more. In yourself I have known a man 
 without parallel for goodness in every relation of life. I 
 depart loving and esteeming you, and priding myself 
 on the possession of your friendship, even if I have not 
 deserved it. Farewell. Farewell." * 
 
 A last letter was also written to his sister, the Com- 
 tessa Giulia Alfieri di Cumiana, telling her of his im- 
 pending death, and recommending to her the Countess of 
 Albany, who would be rendered inconsolable thereby. 
 He likewise informs his sister that he has left the Countess 
 heiress to all his property which was not comprised in 
 the Donation made to herself in 1778, adding that " the 
 straitness of circumstances wherein this most estimable 
 Personage finds herself, like all others, has urged me to 
 this step." t 
 
 Vittorio Alfieri expired not in his bed, but in an easy 
 chair beside the fire, early on the morning of October 8. 
 According to the account, not necessarily a credible one, 
 of the old Marchesa di Prie, a former flame of Alfieri's, % 
 efforts were made by herself to introduce a priest into the 
 dying man's chamber, since of late his softened attitude 
 towards the old regime upset by the French Revolution 
 had led many well-meaning persons to suppose he was 
 anxious to become reconciled to the Church, whose 
 ministers he had always professed to despise. But in any 
 case, the patient was too far gone to be conscious of any 
 such attempts, and the great poet finally passed away, as 
 
 * Teza, Vita, Letter e e Giornali, pp. 467, 468. 
 t Ibidem, p. 468. 
 
 J Reuroont, Gino Capponi e U suo Secolo, pp. 32, 33. 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 the Countess herself relates, 11 like a bird without a 
 struggle, like a lamp whose oil had all escaped." Accord- 
 ing to custom, the body was hastily placed in its coffin, 
 and was exposed to the gaze of his comparatively few 
 acquaintances or admirers in Florence, amongst the 
 latter, however, being the poet Chateaubriand, who was 
 gravely impressed with the tall commanding figure, the 
 fine haughty features and the lofty intelligent forehead 
 of " il grande Astigiano" as Vittorio Alfieri is constantly 
 called in Italian history and literature. 
 
 The private character of Alfieri has so often been 
 criticised in the course of this biography of the Countess 
 of Albany, that perhaps a short but shrewd outside esti- 
 mate of the man may be conveniently added here, in case 
 our own judgment should be regarded as too severe or 
 too prejudiced. 
 
 " Alfieri's character was exceedingly peculiar, and not- 
 withstanding some fine and elevated points, cannot but 
 be pronounced unamiable. Its most prominent features 
 were an indomitable energy of will, which was shown by 
 the whole of his literary career ; a ceaseless craving for 
 celebrity ; and a boundless self-esteem, which exhibited 
 itself in a reserved haughtiness of manner, and made him 
 really a bigoted aristocrat at heart, while professing and 
 supposing himself a violent democrat." — In commenting 
 therefore on his relations with the Countess of Albany, 
 it is as well to bear in mind the extraordinary nature of 
 the man, and to consider the extreme difficulties and trials 
 of the lady's life-long attachment to and connection with 
 so erratic, selfish, violent and wilful a genius. That the 
 Countess must have endured much is obvious ; yet her 
 placid nature, combined with her deep and unalterable 
 affection, was able to support her throughout her long 
 and difficult task of ministering to so troublesome and 
 often so thankless a companion. With his death how- 
 ever, all her past trials and crosses were forgotten, and 
 there was only remembered the real loyalty the poet 
 owned to herself, his " amante ed arnica" His fits of 
 
 243 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 * temper, his frequent abuse of herself and of her friends, 
 his numerous infidelities, were all forgiven and forgotten 
 in the absorping contemplation of their mutual affection, 
 and of Alfieri's stupendous genius, which it now became 
 her chief duty and her sole consolation to exhibit and 
 explain to the world at large. That the Countess of 
 Albany was overwhelmed with grief at her companion's 
 death, even her most remorseless critic, Signore Bertana, 
 is fain to admit ; although he has the hardness of heart to 
 declare that " the tears of the Stolberg woman prove but 
 little. Indifferent to the death of her Friend, she could 
 not be, but it seems to me that Death possesses a special 
 virtue in arousing old and spent affections." * In con- 
 futation of this unkind statement, it is only necessary to 
 peruse the letter which the Countess wrote in reply to 
 the condolences of Alfieri's old friend in Paris, the Hellenist 
 scholar, Monsieur D'Anse de Villoison, two months after 
 her friend's death, for there is a ring of genuine despair 
 and tenderness in this communication, which ought to 
 disarm all suspicion of insincerity in the writer. 
 
 " Florence, December 9, 1803. 
 " I was quite sure, my dear Sir, you would be deeply 
 affected by the terrible loss I have sustained. You know 
 by experience how deadly a blow it is for me to lose One 
 with whom I have lived for twenty-six years, and who 
 has never caused me a moment's annoyance ; One whom 
 I have ever loved, respected and adored. I am the most 
 unhappy creature alive. By this cruel blow I have lost 
 my consolation, my companion, and almost my very mind. 
 I am alone now in a world that has grown odious to me. 
 The greatest happiness, and indeed, the only happiness 
 I can look for, will be to go and join this Incomparable 
 Friend. . . . 
 
 " He was quite well on the morning of the 3rd of October, 
 and did his work as usual ; but on my return to the house 
 at four o'clock, I found him feverish. The gout then 
 
 * Bertana, p. 276. 
 
 244 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 settled in his stomach, which has long been weak, so that 
 he could scarcely eat anything for fear of indigestion 
 which was brought on by every morsel he swallowed at 
 meals. Finally, on Saturday the 8th, after spending 
 rather a better night than he had lately experienced, he 
 grew very faint, his sight became dimmed, and he died 
 quietly, like a bird, without a struggle, quite unconscious 
 of death. Ah Monsieur ! What a blow ! I have lost 
 my all. I feel as if my heart had been torn away. Even 
 now I cannot realise I shall never see him again. Re- 
 member that for the last ten years I have scarcely ever 
 left his side ; that we have spent our days together. I 
 used to sit near him when he was at work, and I used 
 vainly to implore him not to over-tax his powers ; but his 
 craving for study increased daily, as he sought to drive 
 from his mind the passing events of the time by constant 
 occupation. His mind was always bent on what was 
 serious, and Florence afforded him no relaxation. I keep 
 on reproaching myself for not having urged him to make 
 a tour, so as to distract his mind. His burning soul 
 could no longer dwell in a body that it constantly threa- 
 tened to consume. He is happy, in that he has ceased to 
 behold our disasters. His fame will surely spread. The 
 loss is mine alone, for he made the joy of my life. I am 
 too restless now to busy myself. Formerly the days 
 were ever too short, and I used to read for seven or eight 
 hours ; but now I cannot open any of my books, which 
 appear hateful to me." * 
 
 As soon as the violence of her grief had abated some- 
 what, the Countess prepared to carry out the wishes of 
 her dead Friend with regard to his numerous manu- 
 scripts ; and with the help of the sympathetic Abbe di 
 Caluso, who had come to Florence for this purpose, and 
 also with the assistance of the attentive Fabre, the work 
 of preparing a full edition of Alfieri's writings, both pub- 
 
 * Letter included in the Appendix to the Vita. Also Del Cerro, pp. 
 246-248. 
 
 245 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 lished and unpublished, for the press, was being slowly 
 pushed forward for the next four years. The Abbe, to 
 whom Alfieri had bequeathed his favourite red cornelian 
 signet ring with the portrait of Dante, was busily em- 
 ployed in sorting through the papers in the library of 
 Casa Alfieri, which henceforward was kept by the 
 Countess as a sort of shrine sacred to the memory of 
 its departed occupant, nothing being disturbed or 
 touched save by the hands of herself or of some devoted 
 friend, such as Fabre or the Abbe di Caluso. But the 
 intense devotion to the Friend and the engrossing desire 
 to see his writings and name made famous throughout 
 Italy and Europe, were urging the Countess to take 
 measures beyond that of merely producing his literary 
 works, for she was contemplating a monument to be 
 erected in the great church of Santa Croce, the Pantheon 
 of the illustrious dead of Florence, where Alfieri's corpse 
 had already been buried. By his will, the poet had left 
 the Countess any money he may have possessed, and 
 though probably this was little enough, yet since the 
 return of her brother-in-law to Rome and the recent 
 grant of an annual pension to him of £4000 from the 
 Privy Purse of George III., the Stuart annuity of 6000 
 scudi was once again being paid her fully and punctually.* 
 Though far from wealthy therefore, the Countess, who 
 always showed herself a capable and frugal manager, was 
 prepared to expend a substantial sum upon a monument 
 worthy at once of Alfieri's genius and of her own undying 
 affection. For this purpose she now approached the 
 great sculptor, Antonio Canova, with the suggestion 
 that he would undertake the task that was equally 
 dear to her heart and her ambition, and the sculptor 
 immediately assured her of his willingness to carry out 
 her request. 
 
 The proposal to erect a colossal cenotaph to the late 
 Vittorio Alfieri, who during his lifetime had railed at 
 
 * For the Royal Pension to the Cardinal of York, see The Last of the 
 Royal Stuarts , pp. 227-241. 
 
 246 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 priests and popes, and had expired without becoming 
 definitely reconciled to the Church, was not favourably 
 regarded in clerical circles in Florence. The Franciscan 
 friars of Santa Croce, perhaps egged on by Archbishop 
 Martini and some of the higher clergy, affected to demur 
 at the idea of the Countess of Albany utilising their 
 church to glorify an alleged sceptic. A certain learned 
 Chevalier Angelo d'Elci, a deep student of the classics 
 and a composer of long-forgotten satires, also used his 
 influence to prevent the erection of the monument, 
 possibly out of some secret grudge against the memory 
 of Alfieri.* This attempt of d'Elci's was most warmly 
 resented by the Countess, who later in a letter to the poet 
 Ugo Foscolo expresses her undying detestation of the 
 man, who sought to thwart her aims and to diminish the 
 fame of her friend. 
 
 " I have known this old pedant from the age of eigh- 
 teen. Although a handsome boy, he was the laughing- 
 stock of all young people on account of his clumsiness and 
 eccentricity. As an older man, he has grown jealous, 
 malevolent, precise and pedantic without genius or 
 imagination. ... I hate him, and after Buonaparte 
 he is the man I most abhor in the whole world. Nor am 
 I unreasonable in this, for it was he who made every 
 effort to induce the friars of Santa Croce to stop the 
 erection of the mausoleum to Count Alfieri, telling them 
 he had been a scoffer at religion." t 
 
 For some little time, this unexpected opposition on 
 the part of the Florentine clergy seemed likely to meet 
 with success, so much so that the Countess was meditat- 
 ing to erect her mausoleum elsewhere. " For myself," 
 so she writes to her friend the Chevalier Cerretani ; 
 
 * A fine collection of first editions of the classics, presented by the 
 Chevalier d'Elci to the city of Florence, is preserved in the Rotunda of the 
 Laurentian Library, together with the donor's bust. 
 
 t Del Cerro, Epstolario . . . di Ugo Foscolo, 13c, p. 31. 
 
 247 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 " it is all the same. I shall place the monument either 
 in the Duomo of Florence, or in the Pantheon in Rome, 
 or in the cathedral of Milan, or in Ste. Genevieve in 
 Paris ; somebody will be glad to accept it." * 
 
 Meanwhile, the model for the mausoleum was being 
 constructed in Rome, and the necessary estimates were 
 being prepared, most of this correspondence being en- 
 trusted to Fabre, who wrote numerous letters on the 
 subject both to Canova himself and to his brother, the 
 Abbe Gian-Battista Canova ; the Countess herself 
 having already written to thank the sculptor for his 
 willingness to undertake the commission. 
 
 " I thank you, my dear Canova, for agreeing to design 
 the tribute I wish to render to this Incomparable Friend, 
 who admired you as much as I do. I should have pre- 
 ferred one or two complete figures, but I defer to your 
 judgment, for I feel sure you will achieve something 
 worthy of your own reputation, of the Person for whom 
 you are employed, and of the intended site of the monu- 
 ment. I therefore await your design with impatience, 
 and flatter myself you will furnish it with all despatch. 
 I am the more grateful to you, since I am well aware of 
 the immense number of works awaiting your attention ; 
 but I should like your own name that confers honour on 
 Italy, to be united with that of so celebrated a man ; 
 whilst my own name will obtain a reflected glory from its 
 association with yours and his. I find no consolation 
 save in immortalising my attachment for twenty-six 
 years to such a genius, and in mourning for him all the 
 remainder of my days. Accept again, my dear Canova, 
 the token of gratitude and esteem. 
 
 " March 12. LOUISE DE StOLBERG, C. d'AlBANY." t 
 
 During the autumn of the same year the Countess, in 
 
 * L. G. Pelissier, Canova, la Comtesse d? Albany et le Tombeau d'Alfieri 
 {Nuovo Archivio Veneto y 1902, vol. iii. p. 147. Note i.). 
 
 t Ibidem, p. 154. 
 248 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 company with Fabre, made a hasty journey to Rome to 
 visit the sculptor's studio, and to inspect the working- 
 model of the mausoleum, which had just been completed. 
 The cost had already been settled between the pair, and 
 was in the opinion of Madame d'Albany most reasonable. 
 
 " I pledge myself to pay M. le Chevalier Antonio 
 Canova 8000 Roman scudi for the execution in marble 
 of the model he has already made of the monument of 
 Count Vittorio Alfieri. All expenses of the work are 
 to be included in this sum, excepting the socle of grey 
 marble which will be furnished in Florence. 
 
 " I also charge my heirs to consider this present con- 
 tract as sacred, and to execute it with all speed, in the 
 event of my death before the completion of the 
 mausoleum. . . . 
 
 " Signed in Rome, October 23rd, 1804. 
 
 " Louise de Stolberg, Comtesse d'Albany." * 
 
 For six years the hard-worked Canova was occupied 
 with the commission, so that the mausoleum was only 
 finally set up in Santa Croce so late as the autumn of 18 10, 
 at a time when the Countess and Fabre were both absent 
 in Paris, the final arrangements being left to Dr. 
 Edouard Fabre. In the last month of the same year 
 Madame d'Albany remitted the final instalment of the 
 total sum of 10,000 scudi for the completed monument, 
 the oval base of grey marble costing apparently the extra 
 2000 scudi. Early in January 181 1, the Countess, on 
 receiving Canova's final acknowledgment of payment, 
 again expresses her satisfaction with his efforts : 
 " I cannot thank you sufficiently for the Monument, with 
 which I am perfectly satisfied ; it is worthy of yourself 
 and of Him for whom it was intended. I have a double 
 pleasure in thus seeing your two names united. Cer- 
 tainly, Italy can boast of the production in this century 
 of two men equal to her antique heroes." t 
 
 * Ibidem, p. 156. t Ibidem, p. 241. 
 
 249 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 The monument itself, which is well known to, though 
 
 not greatly admired by the many persons to whom the 
 famous Florentine church of Santa Croce is familiar, 
 offers a ponderous example of the classical style, whereof 
 Canova in Italy and Flaxman in England were the principal 
 exponents ; nor is Alfieri's tomb usually regarded as a 
 favourable specimen of Canova's taste or skill. It re- 
 presents the Genius of Italy, a tall graceful female figure 
 robed and crowned, mourning over an altar adorned with 
 tragic masks and wreaths, and bearing a medallion with a 
 good profile portrait of the deceased poet. On the oval 
 base below is a brief but prominent inscription cut in 
 the solid marble — Vittorio Alfierio Astensi Aloisia e 
 Princifibus Stolbergis Albanie Comitissa M.P. Ann. 
 MDCCCX — (To Vittorio Alfieri of Asti, Louise 
 Countess of Albany and Princess of Stolberg placed this 
 monument, 1810) ; — " In the union of these two names 
 inscribed thus for all eternity," says the Countess' 
 leading modern biographer, " there is a serene piece of 
 audacity that amounts to a superior definition of 
 morality." * 
 
 On beholding her monument on returning to Florence, 
 in 181 1, the Countess in no wise altered her first favour- 
 able opinion, telling one correspondent, the Baron de 
 Castille, that " it is magnificent, eclipsing all the other 
 monuments in the church, so that they appear mean by 
 comparison. I send you a sketch of it. It cost 10,000 
 scudi. . . . What particularly pleases me is that it has 
 been all paid for, even to the last hundred livres. We 
 people of method do not care for debts ! " t 
 
 Other friends of the Countess were less inclined to 
 share her complacent sense of satisfaction in Canova's 
 production ; and Sismondi, always frank and critical, 
 who saw the recently unveiled monument whilst passing 
 through Florence in November 18 10, wrote his candid 
 impressions at once to the Countess, then in Paris. 
 
 * Ibidem, p. 243. 
 t Ibidem, p. 239. 
 
 250 
 
Last Days of Alfieri 
 
 "Geneva, November 19, 18 10. 
 " ... In passing through Florence lately I inspected 
 with admiration the splendid monument you have lately 
 had erected. I am a very poor judge of works of art 
 owing to my defective sight, so that I have never been 
 able to form my taste properly, if I can aspire to taste at 
 all. However, there seemed to me an imposing grandeur 
 and simplicity in Canova's work. The figure of Italy is 
 most pathetic, lovely and dignified ; she looks a queen in 
 mourning. I miss — but perhaps I am mistaken — a 
 certain symmetry that one expects to find in sculptured 
 tombs of this class. The colossal figure of Italy at one 
 side of the mausoleum seems rather to require a pendant, 
 as in Michelangelo's Tombs of the Medici, where all the 
 corners of the monuments are occupied. There they 
 form a true part of the design ; whilst here, in Canova's 
 work, Italy appears rather as an outside spectator, and 
 belongs really to the crowd who mourn for the hero and 
 not to the tomb itself." * 
 
 This shrewd piece of criticism on the monument's lack 
 of symmetry may well be applied to the Alfieri Tomb to- 
 day, although few persons visiting Santa Croce nowadays 
 pause long before the great mass of marble with its weep- 
 ing Genius, since modern taste requires a different type 
 of art for its satisfaction, so that Alfieri's costly monu- 
 ment and sonorous tragedies which delighted his own 
 generation are alike neglected or despised in this. 
 
 According to the usual Florentine custom, sonnets, 
 odes, and epigrams on the newly erected mausoleum were 
 showered upon the famous sculptor. These proved mostly 
 complimentary, though a few expressed dissatisfaction 
 with this new addition to the glories of Santa Croce, 
 which dwarfed so many of the older historic monuments 
 of Donatello and Rossellino. One of these scribblers is at 
 least sharp enough to have a fling at Canova for represent- 
 
 * St. Ren6Taillandier, Lettres Inedites de J. C. L. de Sismondi, l$c. pp. 128, 
 129. 
 
 251 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 ing Italy clothed and crowned, after the late invasions of 
 the French and the ruthless plundering of her choicest 
 treasures of art from Florence, Venice, and Rome. 
 
 Canova questa volta V has bagliata, 
 Fe V Italia vestita, ed e spogliata ! 
 
 (In the well-draped Italia our sculptor has blundered, 
 
 Since her raiment and jewels have long since been plundered !) 
 
 It was doubtless Alfieri's original intention that the 
 ashes of himself and his " Donna Amata " should ulti- 
 mately rest in the same tomb ; but Canova's great monu- 
 ment in the nave of Santa Croce stands alone in memory 
 of the poet, whilst the lady who erected it reposes in a 
 corner of the distant Chapel of the Sacrament in the 
 south transept of the vast church. 
 
 252 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 FRANCOIS-XAVIER FABRE 
 
 J 
 
 " If grief does not slay — and very rarely has it such power — 
 then after the tears, after the wringing of the heart, after the 
 days of mute despair, they who are struck by a great irreparable 
 loss must of necessity return to their usual life, and do no more 
 than obtain sweet ointment for the unhealed wounds from their 
 past memories, together with the purifying force of every past 
 mistake, and even of every thought. This Louise Countess of 
 Albany ought, and was able to do, and this she did." 
 
 A. Sassi, La Vedovanza dell Arnica delV Alfieri 
 
 As time gradually began to blunt the sharp arrows of 
 her grief, and as the self-set task of editing Alfieri's 
 complete works, with the aid of Fabre and the Abbe di 
 Caluso, gave her constant occupation, the Countess of 
 Albany slowly resumed her normal course of life, prepar- 
 ing to settle indefinitely in the city and in the very house 
 where her Friend had so lately passed away. She showed 
 no sign of following Alfieri to the tomb, for though her 
 sorrow was genuine, deep and lasting, her health seems 
 to have been in no wise affected by the shock, or by the 
 loss of one whose personality undoubtedly filled the 
 greatest part in her existence. From the even tenor 
 of her past daily life, always somewhat mechanically 
 arranged in accordance with Alfieri's fixed principles, 
 the Countess found no great difficulty in falling into 
 a monotonous but not unpleasant routine, which included 
 early rising, several hours of study or of painting, a 
 regular morning walk, and the habit of receiving a few 
 persons daily at dinner, and a goodly number of acquaint- 
 ances at her nightly receptions. Hitherto the presence 
 of the morose and soured poet had proved a considerable 
 
 253 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 obstacle to that life of entertainment and intellectual 
 society which the Countess especially loved, and had 
 carried out with such success in her Parisian hotel. So 
 far as she was able, therefore, she assumed once more 
 her favourite part as a social hostess, though on a smaller 
 scale, in a smaller city, and with a smaller income. One 
 word as to her financial position may not come amiss 
 here. By Alfieri's death she had certainly lost a consider- 
 able portion of their joint income, whilst her commission 
 to Canova for the monument in Santa Croce, with its 
 cost of 10,000 Roman scudi (about £3000 sterling at 
 least), must naturally have made a large inroad on her 
 already diminished fortune. Certainly, the lady was 
 hard pressed at this moment, and with her thoughts 
 always turning longingly to the comfortable French 
 pension which that odious Revolution had filched from 
 her, she began to hope that possibly the new master of 
 France might be inclined to regard a claim coming from 
 herself with a favourable eye. 
 
 The Countess had already known the Empress of the 
 French as the Vicomtesse Beauharnais in her Parisian 
 days, and she had even written to her with congratula- 
 tions upon the escape of herself and her husband (whom 
 she was constantly abusing in her private letters to 
 Madame Mocenni) upon their escape from the recent 
 attempt at assassination in 1801. Her letter on this 
 occasion was evidently conceived in the warmest terms 
 of apparent joy and sincerity, as the following reply 
 from the future Empress will show. 
 
 "Paris, 1801. 
 
 "How deeply grateful I am to you, dear Friend, for 
 the affectionate and sympathetic interest you display 
 in Buonaparte and myself. A friendship so distin- 
 guished as yours brings some consolation amid the 
 terrible alarms and continual dangers to which we are 
 exposed, so that we regret them less when they arouse 
 
 254 
 
Francois-Xavier Fabre 
 
 evidence of an esteem as genuine as that which you 
 express. 
 
 " Josephine Bonaparte {nee Lapagerie)." * 
 
 This communication, with its gracious and warm 
 reply from Josephine, seemed a propitious beginning 
 to her projected scheme, though the Countess evidently 
 did not dare pursue the idea of obtaining a pension 
 from the First Consul during the few remaining years 
 of Alfieri's life. Yet she probably nursed the idea in 
 strict secrecy, for no doubt she also built upon the 
 ultimate success of such an attempt, seeing that her sister, 
 Francoise-Claudia Comtesse d'Arberg, later became the 
 trusted and valued lady-in-waiting to the new Empress. 
 For this purpose, the Countess selected as her inter- 
 mediary a certain Chevalier Luigi Angiolini, in the 
 diplomatic service, who loved to spend his spare time 
 in serving persons of quality and importance, and had 
 already assisted Alfieri and herself in some financial 
 matters a few years before. To this willing acquaintance 
 therefore Madame d'Albany now applied in May 1804, 
 a few months after Alfieri's death. Her demand for 
 the lost French pension is curiously, but perhaps pur- 
 posely, mixed up with a suggestion for Angiolini to 
 arrange a marriage between the old Spanish Ambassador 
 in Paris, Admiral Gravina, and her own youngest and 
 unmarried sister, the Princess Gustavine of Stolberg- 
 Gedern. After recapitulating the mutual advantages 
 to both parties that would accrue from such an union, 
 the Countess proceeds to make her own request in the 
 moving terms which she knew well how to employ, appeal- 
 ing at once to Angiolini's personal vanity (which was 
 doubtless great) and to the high esteem wherein he was 
 held by herself and Alfieri ; and also painting her own 
 position of bereavement and poverty in the most dismal 
 colours. To both these demands thef^sympathetic 
 Angiolini replied that he would attempt his utmost, 
 # Reumont, Appendix, p. 174. 
 
 2 55 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 and no doubt he did all that was possible, although in 
 the end neither was the desired match between the 
 mature Gustavine de Stolberg and the elderly Admiral 
 arranged, nor was the lost pension ever restored by- 
 Napoleon Buonaparte. The curious Memorandum, 
 drawn up on this occasion for the guidance of the Buona- 
 partes and of Talleyrand, contains some very strange 
 statements, including the admission that in the spring 
 of 1802 the Countess of Albany had declined to avail 
 herself of Napoleon's apparent offer to restore her own 
 books as well as Alfieri's library, which had been confiscated 
 during the Reign of Terror. So decided a step the 
 Countess would never have dared to take without the 
 knowledge and consent of Alfieri, and it is indeed mystify- 
 ing to read that she declared herself willing to surrender 
 up her " Incomparable Friend's " most treasured posses- 
 sion to Napoleon, provided he would grant her the 
 coveted pension. The Memorandum proceeds to state 
 that nobody had higher claims on the Emperor's gener- 
 osity than the sister-in-law of the last heir of the Royal 
 Stuarts and the widow of the late Pretender. Finally, 
 a conviction is expressed that Napoleon himself, on 
 persuing this paper with its list of the lady's claims, 
 will promptly order the restoration of the suspended 
 annuity to so worthy and exalted an applicant.* 
 
 Whether or no this amazing document was ever 
 perused by Napoleon's own eyes is unknown ; but it 
 is certain that the Countess' claim was never admitted 
 by him, though when, why, or where refused, it is im- 
 possible to say. We shrewdly suspect that the failure 
 to obtain the annuity claimed, for which object the 
 Countess had most certainly humbled herself considerably 
 before a person for whom in private she ever evinced 
 (most truthfully) her cordial detestation, is largely 
 responsible for the undying hatred she ever afterwards 
 bore to the Emperor, and for the almost indecent 
 
 * G. Sforza, La Vedova di Un Pretendente e Napoleone I. Vitelleschi, 
 vol. ii. pp. 561-566. 
 
 256 
 
Francois-Xavier Fabre 
 
 delight wherewith she gloated later over his humiliation 
 and fall. And yet she must have had personal interviews 
 with the Emperor in Paris during her honourable but 
 enforced residence there in 1 809-1810, so that it is 
 therefore not unreasonable to presume that there must 
 have been an element of personal as well as political 
 dislike in her hostile attitude towards him. In this 
 connection a curious but well-authenticated and cha- 
 racteristic anecdote is related of this visit of hers to Paris. 
 Vague rumours having reached Napoleon's ears concern- 
 ing the birth of a son and heir to Prince Charles-Edward 
 Stuart a year or so after his marriage to the Stolberg 
 princess, the Emperor was sufficiently interested or 
 impressed by the story as to command the immediate 
 presence of the Countess of Albany at the Tuileries. 
 Here, the lady, much to her disgust, was left alone waiting 
 in a room for some length of time, until Napoleon 
 himself suddenly burst in, and with the brusque and 
 tactless manner he so often assumed, suddenly demanded 
 of the inwardly enraged but outwardly placid Countess, 
 whether she had ever borne children. " Mais jamais, 
 Sire ! " replied she, with a most emphatic denial to a 
 question so unexpected. " Then it's a pity ! " was 
 Napoleon's sole comment, whereupon he immediately 
 left the Stuart Queen alone in the room to find her way 
 out of the palace as best she might.* A sharp refusal 
 to grant her petition for the desired annuity, combined 
 with a series of petty slights and with his abrupt command 
 to reside for a year in Paris willy-nilly, were perhaps all- 
 sufficient to account for her fierce loathing of the 
 Emperor ; but in any case the relations between the 
 Countess of Albany and Napoleon remain still very 
 obscure, and indeed the contradictory Angiolini corre- 
 spondence throws darkness rather than light upon this 
 curious and not uninteresting side-issue in history. 
 With the death of the Cardinal of York in July 1807, 
 
 * Anecdote from a private source, communicated to me by the kindness 
 and courtesy of the Honble Henry S. Littleton. 
 
 R 257 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 the indefatigable Countess made a further application, 
 this time to the British king, by whom her request was 
 actually granted, mainly at the instigation of the good- 
 natured Sir John Hippisley. Early in the New Year 
 of 1808, therefore, she had the intense satisfaction of 
 reading the following welcome letter from Lord Hawkes- 
 bury, to Sir John, which set at rest all her fears as to 
 the lack of a comfortable income for the evening of 
 her life. 
 
 "Whitehall, December 22, 1807. 
 " Sir, — I had the honour of laying before the King 
 the letter of the Countess of Albany to His Majesty, 
 together with the letter I received from you upon the 
 same subject. 
 
 " I have great satisfaction in informing you that I 
 have received His Majesty's command to acquaint the 
 Countess of Albany, through you, that the King has 
 given directions that the sum of Sixteen Hundred Pounds 
 a year should be paid to her, to commence from the 
 period of the death of the late Cardinal of York, and to 
 be paid in the same manner as the pension to the Cardinal 
 was paid. 
 
 " His Majesty has at the same time commanded me 
 to express his regret that the demands unavoidably made 
 upon him in consequence of the distressing, calamitous 
 situation of so many of the Sovereign Houses of Europe, 
 so nearly connected with His Majesty, should preclude 
 him from extending the allowance solicited by the 
 Countess of Albany beyond the sum above stated. 
 " I have the honour to be, &c. &c., 
 
 " Hawkesbury." * 
 
 It might have been thought that Madame d'Albany, 
 now in the receipt of a considerable and assured income 
 both from the British Crown and from the estate of the 
 late Cardinal of York, would have been content to allow 
 the matter of her lost French pension to drop. But with 
 
 * Reumont, Appendix, pp. 371, 372. 
 
 258 
 
Francois-X avier Fabre 
 
 the restoration of the Bourbons, in 1814, once again we 
 find her petitioning for " the 60,000 livres or an equiva- 
 lent," although the annuity was originally granted under 
 Louis XV. on the sole consideration of her consent to 
 become the wife of the hereditary foe of the House of 
 Guelph, who happened at that moment to be a political 
 asset of some slight value to French diplomacy and ambi- 
 tion. It seems very strange therefore that she should 
 not have recognised the illogicality, to say nothing of 
 the bad taste, of her appeal under such circumstances, 
 seeing she was now in enjoyment of a substantial income 
 from the very nation and Royal House that her marriage 
 with the Stuart prince was primarily intended to hurt 
 and annoy ; but despite this anomaly the Countess 
 continued to implore her friends in Paris to assist her 
 in the attempt. Amongst those who particularly busied 
 themselves with this commission was the good-natured 
 Madame de Stael, herself sinking fast into the grave in 
 the years after Waterloo. " From the depths of my 
 bed, my dear Queen, I have never ceased to keep up 
 my interest in the matter which touches you so closely," 
 so she writes from her house in the Rue Royale on April 
 9, 1 81 7 ; and again, a week later, she suggests, by means 
 of her second husband, the youthful Monsieur Albert 
 Rocca, that her chere souveraine should stoop to declare 
 herself an English subject in order to improve her chances 
 of obtaining the desired pension ! 
 
 In any case this attempt to induce the recently restored 
 Bourbon king to grant what had evidently been refused 
 some ten years before by Napoleon, ended likewise in 
 failure. For the rest of her days Madame d' Albany 
 had to remain content with her annuity from the Royal 
 Stuarts and the pension from the bounty of George III. ; 
 but the income accruing from these two sources was in 
 reality ample to maintain her in comfort and in proper 
 surroundings, though it would appear she never ceased 
 to hanker after the pension she lost in the detested French 
 Revolution, or to consider herself aggrieved alternately 
 
 259 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 with Napoleon and Louis XVIII. for not admitting her 
 professed claims to it. 
 
 • « • • • 
 
 " The elegant painter " (as Ugo Foscolo styles him), 
 Francois-Xavier Fabre, has so often been mentioned 
 in the course of this narrative that no further description 
 of him is necessary here. For ten years he had been an 
 intimate and an obsequious friend of Count Alfieri, to 
 whom he looked up with awe and admiration as much 
 for his aristocratic birth and position as for his acknow- 
 ledged genius. His brother, Dr. Edouard Fabre, had 
 been Alfieri's physician, so that both the brothers were 
 held in high favour at Casa Alfieri long before the death 
 of the master of the house. Alfieri's esteem both for 
 the painter and for the doctor is undeniable, and to the 
 former on completing his portrait he had addressed the 
 sonnet 
 
 O tu nella sublime opra cPA-pelle, 
 
 Di mano e in un di nome egregio Fabro 
 
 wherein he makes a playful pun on the words Fabre and 
 fabro. This is certain and undeniable ; but what is 
 most difficult and disputed is the degree of intimacy 
 that existed in these comparatively early days between 
 the Countess of Albany and the painter. Much time 
 has been wasted, or at least unprofitably spent, in trying 
 to prove that long ere Alfieri's death, an intrigue of a 
 most discreditable nature had arisen between Fabre 
 and the Countess. Assuming the existence of this 
 liaison, some have declared that Alfieri himself was 
 ignorant of this incident ; whilst others equally assert 
 that, though cognisant of it, he was too proud or too 
 generous to notice such a thing, or to upbraid the lady 
 whom in the past he had extolled as his " Degno Amore," 
 his " Donna Amata," the " meta di stesso," and had lauded 
 in other endearing terms. It is perhaps needless to state 
 that on such a point the evidence is both scanty and 
 obscure. The general opinion in Italy, however, notably 
 260 
 
Francois-Xavier Fabre 
 
 as proclaimed in the various biographical sketches and 
 treatises which appeared about the time of the Alfieri 
 Centenary in October 1903, seems to be that the Countess 
 of Albany was certainly guilty ; that she deceived Alfieri ; 
 and that her conduct made the last few years of his life 
 miserable. It is only fair also to note that a few Italian 
 writers of distinction, notably Signore Adolfo Sassi, 
 have taken up the cudgels in defence of the maligned 
 Countess. 
 
 It is a delicate and a very far from agreeable task to 
 touch upon such a matter in these pages, but it is never- 
 theless necessary for us to give some definite opinion 
 thereon. We are firmly convinced of the intense devo- 
 tion, and of the undeviating fidelity of the Countess to 
 her Incomparable Friend to the very last, though we 
 are willing to admit that it is impossible at this distance 
 of time to discover the whole truth, though all existing 
 evidence points to the innocence and steadfast affection 
 of the Countess of Albany. Indeed, it is for these latter- 
 day detractors of the Countess to prove their case against 
 her, and it is for us who uphold her character to pronounce 
 upon the validity of any arguments they can adduce. 
 Now what are these arguments ? The chief is, that 
 she was a light woman by instinct, and was ready to 
 change one lover for another according to her fancy ; 
 yet that she fell into an overwhelming passion for Alfieri 
 is obviously no proof of her desertion of him later. The 
 fact is, there is throughout the whole range of the informa- 
 tion at our disposal connected with their life at Casa 
 Alfieri between the years 1 793-1 803, only one piece 
 of definite assertion of an intrigue between Fabre and 
 the Countess, and that is to be found in the racy reminis- 
 cences of Massimo d'Azeglio, who with scandalous in- 
 gratitude inserted in his book some very disagreeable 
 stories about both Alfieri and the Countess, although 
 she had frequently shown him kindness as a boy. Even 
 here, only one anecdote deals positively with the so-called 
 Fabre intrigue, and that is supplied from the recollections 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of an aunt of d'Azeglio's, a certain old Marchesa di 
 Prie, a former flame of Alfieri's,* who bore a special 
 grudge against the Countess of Albany, in the first 
 instance for usurping her own place in the poet's affec- 
 tions ; and in the second, for having thwarted (so she 
 alleged) her attempted introduction of a priest into his 
 sick-room. The story of the Marchesa di Prie is that 
 one evening, whilst she and other ladies were watching 
 one of the theatrical representations which the poet 
 often gave in Casa Alfieri, she observed young Fabre 
 unmistakably ogling the mistress of the house. The 
 Marchesa related this experience in after years to her 
 nephew, who cruelly and ungratefully gave to the world 
 this malicious story. Says Bertana, the leader of the 
 present ungallant attack on the " Donna Amata 99 of 
 Alfieri : " That d'Azeglio had really learnt this tale 
 from his aunt, who can doubt ? And who can with 
 certainty affirm that the Marchesa di Prie invented 
 it ? "t But surely it is the first duty of those who 
 regard this nasty and posthumous slander as a piece of 
 true evidence to show that the remarks of d'Azeglio's 
 old aunt were frimd facie correct, and not actuated by 
 malice, nor the result of a possible mistake on her part ? 
 In the first place, the salon of Casa Alfieri, filled with 
 a crowd of her friends and with Alfieri himself either 
 on the stage or in the room, seems a most unsuitable 
 and unlikely place for the unguarded display of what 
 all agree in describing as a disreputable intrigue. If 
 the Countess and Fabre were indeed secret lovers, then 
 it seems strange they should exhibit in so public and 
 therefore in so unbefitting a place, the understanding 
 which it was obviously to the interests of both to keep 
 as dark as possible. No one else, except this old Madame 
 de Prie, seems to have noticed either on this or on any 
 other occasion the slightest familiarity between the 
 
 # Reumont, Gino Capponi e il Suo Secolo, pp. 32, 33. Also chapter iv. 
 of this work. 
 
 t Bertana, p. 270. 
 262 
 
Francois-Xavier Fabre 
 
 painter and the Countess, though the natural inference 
 from this spiteful tale would lead one to suppose their 
 relations were scandalously open and patent to all their 
 circle. On the contrary, realising that the Marchesa 
 bore a grudge against her hostess, was she not safe in 
 inventing a malevolent lie in after years, and was not the 
 nephew safe in publishing it abroad, when the poor 
 Countess had long been dead and therefore unable to 
 refute so vile a slander ? On the face of things, to put 
 the case very gently, the anecdote rests on exceedingly 
 doubtful grounds ; and when we bear in mind that it is 
 the only definite charge of light conduct brought against 
 the Countess of Albany, it becomes all the more important 
 that such a scandalous tale, published nearly half a century 
 after her death, should be regarded with the deepest 
 mistrust. For, apart from this anecdote in d'Azeglio's 
 volumes, there exists no direct evidence, however slight 
 or ill-authenticated, of the misbehaviour of the Countess 
 of Albany, so it would seem that on this tale, and on this 
 tale alone, rests the whole charge of her infidelity towards 
 Alfieri during his lifetime. 
 
 On the other hand, it would be easy to point to the 
 letters full of expressions of genuine grief and regret, 
 which even the most ardent of Madame d' Albany's 
 detractors dare not explain away as insincere or hypo- 
 critical. The messages sent by the dying poet to the 
 Abbe di Caluso, and the Countess' letters to her many 
 friends, afford endless proofs of her undoubted affection, 
 and we think of her fidelity also. It is therefore perhaps 
 unnecessary to argue at length against charges so false, 
 so futile, and so belated ; but we should like to point out 
 that a possible clue to her true relations with Fabre is 
 to be found in the protracted course of her correspondence 
 with Madame Mocenni. In these letters the Countess 
 was opening her mind and her heart to her chosen friend 
 and confidant, Teresa Mocenni, so that we may well 
 look for some enlightenment upon this point in their 
 contents. Now, if during the course of this corre- 
 
 263 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 spondence the Countess had (as she is accused) been 
 flirting with the young painter, she might have reasonably 
 been expected to pursue one of two courses. Either 
 she would have taken her beloved Teresa into her confi- 
 dence about Fabre, and told her of her new-born passion ; 
 or she would, in order to allay her friend's suspicion, 
 have kept Fabre's name as much as possible out of her 
 letters. But neither of these courses does she adopt. 
 On the contrary, she talks most freely about Fabre, and 
 talks, too, in a tone of patronage that seems most un- 
 suitable towards a lover, even a secret lover. She pokes 
 fun at the man's plebeian parents or at his brother's 
 pills ; and throughout one cannot but be struck with the 
 feeling that, though Fabre is quite the favourite in Casa 
 Alfieri, yet that he always stands on a lower plane than 
 that of the master and mistress of this aristocratic and 
 supercilious household. Signore Sassi speaks with acute 
 discrimination of the painter as " one of those men, 
 especially those humbly-born men of genius who frequent 
 the houses of the great and noble, having a commonplace 
 and unsympathetic personality, like all those men who 
 set themselves to obtain secure and comfortable leisure 
 out of women, and especially elderly women."* Such 
 a person as Fabre, however appreciated, could never, 
 Signore Sassi opines, have usurped the place in the heart 
 of the Countess once occupied by Alfieri. That Fabre 
 was useful, tactful, kind, sympathetic, agreeable, discreet, 
 and in short indispensable, none will deny ; but a man 
 may be all these things to a great lady of fifty and more, 
 and yet not be her lover. Of course we may be wholly 
 mistaken in this view, for time has obliterated our chances 
 of real knowledge ; but we affirm that all probability 
 points to the perfect innocence of the Countess ; whilst 
 except for the unproved story of the Marchesa di Prie, 
 the traducers of the lady have not apparently a tittle 
 of direct evidence tending to exhibit the alleged in- 
 fidelity of the Countess of Albany towards her Friend. 
 * La Vedovanza deW Arnica delV Alfieri, p. 638. 
 
 264 
 
Francois-X avier Fabre 
 
 They may prove, and with success, that Alfieri himself 
 grew weary in one sense of his companion, and that he 
 ranged elsewhere outside the walls of Casa Alfieri ; but 
 it is hard to see how this revived love of intrigue in the 
 man should of necessity be aroused also in the woman. 
 In a word, these detractors and calumniators ought 
 either to cease from making such charges, or else to seek 
 for and bring forward some new and better-authenticated 
 testimony in support of their theory. 
 
 It would seem that Fabre did not take up his abode at 
 Casa Alfieri for some years after the poet's death, and 
 that his arrival there was partly at least the result of 
 accident rather than of choice or invitation. His 
 wretched health, which required constant attention, 
 and the death of his brother Edouard were probably 
 the ultimate causes of his settling permanently in Casa 
 Alfieri itself, though he visited it daily and was constantly 
 in the company of the Countess. Bonstetten, the old 
 admirer of the young Stuart " Queen of Hearts," writing 
 four years after Alfieri's death, distinctly states that 
 " she lived with the painter Fabre, who did not dwell 
 in her house but had his meals with her. This third 
 husband had the air of a subordinate rather than of a 
 spouse, and only appeared occasionally " ;* the word 
 husband being of course used here in a facetious sense. 
 As in Alfieri's case certain persons had persisted in speak- 
 ing of a marriage-tie between the pair, so [now the old 
 idea was mooted of a secret union between herself and 
 Fabre, although there is not a shadow of probability 
 in such a suggestion. Yet the report of their actual 
 marriage found its way into the volumes of the Biographic 
 Universelle during the life-time of Fabre himself, who 
 notes the statement in his own copy preserved in the 
 Musee Fabre, at Montpellier, with the significant denial 
 C'est faux I which ought surely to be conclusive evidence 
 on this point.f It seems that the painter was always 
 
 * Ste. Beuve, Nouveaux Lundis, vol. v. p. 431. 
 
 t Del Cerro, V. Alfieri e la Comtessa d* Albany, &c. p. 31 1. 
 
 265 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 willing to play the part of inferior companion to a great 
 lady whom he had perhaps begun by toadying, but for 
 whom he preserved to the last a discreet and unvarying 
 devotion of service. To somebody or other, after 
 Alfieri's death, the Countess felt herself bound to turn, 
 and perhaps the painter had long waited for this expected 
 opportunity. She wanted somebody who could carry 
 on the old Alfieri traditions and rules of the house, and 
 for this purpose none could have served better than her 
 friend of ten years' standing, who was both eager and 
 capable to fill this post. Between this pair Alfieri was 
 still a living being ; his library was kept as a shrine or 
 a museum ; both spoke of the dead poet with bated 
 breath to the guests of the house ; and both lived in the 
 shadow, as it were, of the departed but still prevading 
 genius. As to his own merits, Francois-Xavier Fabre, 
 though plain and homely in outward appearance, was 
 a painter of note ; he was an excellent connoisseur and 
 collector of all works of art, and he had a most remarkable 
 gift of conversation. " He spoke well on all subjects," 
 remarks Paul-Louis Courier ; " and when he spoke of 
 art itself, it was an education to listen to him." Of the 
 many friends of the Countess, several of them persons 
 not only of high rank but also of strict morality, such as 
 he Duchess of Devonshire, Miss Cornelia Knight, 
 Lady Davey and others, not one ever seems to have 
 taken exception to the menage of Casa Alfieri, and all 
 invariably allude to Fabre in a friendly spirit or send him 
 polite messages of recognition. Of all her host of friends 
 and acquaintances, surely some would have declined to 
 visit the Countess' salon, had there been any suspicion of 
 an illicit intimacy between the elderly mistress of the 
 house and her chosen middle-aged companion. As to 
 conventional appearances, the Countess, with her exalted 
 notions of her own importance, cared nothing for idle 
 gossip or speculation ; nor indeed was there occasion for 
 her to listen to it, since all that was not only brilliant, but 
 also most respectable, crowded eagerly to her receptions. 
 266 
 
Francois-Xavier Fabre 
 
 Such events as occurred during the peaceful remnant 
 of her life were therefore invariably shared with this 
 chosen help-meet of her declining years. It was with 
 Fabre as her companion that, in 1809, she prepared to 
 go into exile in France, when Napoleon, jealous of the 
 social influence of the Countess among the Florentines, 
 and suspicious of her political ideals, commanded the 
 presence of the mistress of Casa Alfieri in Paris. This 
 imperial and imperious summons (which constituted 
 in reality a decided compliment to her own influential 
 personality) had perforce to be obeyed, and most un- 
 willingly the Countess of Albany, attended by Fabre, 
 set out for the " Cloaca Maxima " that Alfieri had always 
 so cordially detested. 
 
 The circumstances of the Countess' actual summons 
 and her departure are wrapped in some mystery. Two 
 years previously, the Queen Regent of the mushroom 
 kingdom of Etruria and her infant son had been un- 
 ceremoniously told to quit their realm, in order that 
 Tuscany might be united with the swelling French 
 Empire, and its inhabitants Frenchified in a civil, military 
 and ecclesiastical sense. For this purpose the former 
 Grand-Duchy was now divided into the three depart- 
 ments of the Arno, the Ombrone and the Mediterranean ; 
 whilst the Pitti Palace, in Florence, was occupied by the 
 court of Elise Buonaparte, eldest sister of the Emperor 
 and the wife of Felice Baciocchi, recently created by his 
 all-powerful brother-in-law, Prince of Piombino and 
 Duke of Lucca. The new Governor-General (for that 
 title seems best fitted to describe the position held by 
 the Grand-Duchess Elise in Florence) and her court 
 naturally did not meet with an enthusiastic welcome 
 from the mass of the Florentines of all classes ; 
 whilst to the Countess this new annexation to France 
 seemed even more hateful and humiliating than the late 
 Bourbon monarchy set up as an experiment in Tuscany 
 and now capriciously destroyed by its creator. Elise, 
 however, did all that was possible to conciliate the 
 
 267 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 unwilling and reluctant citizens of Florence, nor was she 
 wholly unsuccessful in her well-meant efforts. Even 
 Madame d' Albany gradually modified her dislike towards 
 her, and Elise herself was wont to pay informal visits 
 of a morning at Casa Alfieri, for the Countess, as the 
 widow of a titular king, would never condescend to enter 
 the Pitti Palace, except on the forbidden footing of a 
 queen. Elise has sometime been accused of jealousy 
 of the social influence and prestige of the Countess and 
 her salon, and she is even represented as having secretly 
 advised the . terrible Fouche to remove this cause of 
 annoyance, though always pretending regret for the step 
 which she had herself suggested. But it seems far more 
 likely that Napoleon acted thus on his own initiative, 
 in according to the Countess a treatment similar to that 
 already meted out to Mesdames de Stael and Recamier. 
 Fabre, too, frequented the Palazzo Pitti to offer 
 Elise occasional advice on matters artistic, and he even 
 figures in a large picture by Pietro Benvenuti, the 
 fashionable Italian painter of the day, wherein he is 
 made to appear as discussing the merits of a bust with 
 Felice Baciocchi in the presence of Napoleon's sister 
 and her court. Certainly, the Countess of Albany never 
 suspected Elise of treachery or personal dislike, for it was 
 to her that she now appealed to obtain the recall of 
 Napoleon's offensive and satirical order for her to quit 
 Florence and reside in Paris, where (so he sneeringly 
 observed) she might indulge her artistic tastes with 
 better profit. General Menon, to whom Elise had 
 expressed her regret at her brother's action,* deeming 
 his mistress sincere, had undertaken to arrange a formal 
 
 * That Elise really endeavoured to prevent the Countess' enforced 
 visit to Paris becomes evident from the following passage in a letter of 
 Napoleon to Fouche himself. 
 
 " Schonbrunn, June 20, 1809. 
 " The Grand Duchess (Elise) did wrong to prevent the execution of 
 the measures I ordered. I do not wish Madame d'Albany to live in 
 Florence. . . ." — New Letters of Napoleon I., translated by Lady Mary 
 Loyd. London, 1898. 
 
 268 
 
Francois-Xavier Fabre 
 
 meeting between these two intellectual and semi-regal 
 ladies of Florence, with the result that Madame d'Albany 
 described herself as ready to pay a visit in state to the 
 Pitti Palace, provided that on her arrival she were duly 
 treated as a reigning sovereign. With this stipulation 
 Buonaparte's sister affected to agree, whereupon on the 
 day appointed the gala coach of the Stuart Queen, 
 which had not been seen rolling in the memory of man, 
 appeared at the portal of Casa Alfieri with its full com- 
 plement of footmen in splendid scarlet liveries, white 
 cockades, three-cornered hats and powdered wigs. Amid 
 a crowd attracted by so unusual a spectacle, the widow 
 of Charles-Edward Stuart drove in full panoply across 
 the bridge of Santa Trinita and up the narrow Sdruc- 
 ciolo dei Pitti to the palace. Here she was received by 
 the officials, who led the Countess from hall to hall, and 
 along gallery after gallery, till finally she was ushered 
 into a small room which turned out to be Elise's bed- 
 chamber. The bed itself was occupied by Napoleon's 
 cunning sister, who in this manner, on an obviously 
 feigned plea of sickness, excused herself from returning 
 the three sweeping curtseys which the entering " Reine 
 d'Angleterre " had already performed, so that a slight 
 bob from the lace-wrapped head on the pillow was all 
 that the astonished and discomfited Countess could 
 obtain in return for her obeisances of ceremony ! Smother- 
 ing her indignation, however, the Countess launched 
 forth into the long tale of her grievances and of the 
 inconvenience of her recent summons to Paris, when 
 suddenly Elise, who was in reality not greatly interested 
 in the story, called out, " What on earth, my dear 
 Countess, made Alfieri so bitter an enemy of the 
 French ? " 
 
 " You show me yourself he was quite right to hate 
 them ! " was the retort of her now infuriated visitor, 
 who thereupon flung out of the room without saying 
 good-bye, and made her way back to the entrance where 
 her carriage was drawn up. Two days later she quitted 
 
 269 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Florence, according to the order of Napoleon, who 
 thereby considered he was removing a social obstacle 
 to the desired growth of union between the French 
 Empire and its newly included Tuscan subjects.* 
 
 The year's residence in Paris, which is the sole incident 
 of importance that serves to break the regular routine 
 of the twenty years of Italian life after the death of 
 Alfieri, calls for no special notice. Although annoyed 
 at her banishment from her home, the Countess found 
 Paris and Parisian life agreeable enough for the time 
 being, as may be ascertained from the lively and affection- 
 ate letters addressed to her after her departure in the 
 following year by Madame de Souza, the widow of the 
 unfortunate Comte de Flahault, and now the wife of 
 a Portuguese diplomatist and scholar. Owing to her 
 sister's official position with the ex-Empress Josephine, 
 the Countess was an occasional visitor to Malmaison, and 
 she also admitted a deep admiration for Hortense de 
 Beauharnais, Queen of Holland. Another old friend 
 was also seen during this compulsory sojourn in Paris, 
 and that was Madame de Maltzam, now seventy-four 
 years of age and living quietly on a tiny income at 
 Soissons, quite reconciled to the new change of govern- 
 ment. Naturally, Madame de Maltzam was delighted 
 at the prospect of beholding once more the mistress 
 whom she had served in the old days at Florence, Rome 
 and Colmar, and longed to clasp her dear pupil to her 
 breast. She writes to the Countess in Paris, on February 
 2, 1 8 10, begging her to stay at her little house at Soissons 
 and have a talk over old times, or else she declares herself 
 willing to make an effort to meet her in Paris. 
 
 " . . . I have two small rooms to offer you, as well 
 as a servant's room, all very simple but beautifully clean, 
 for I don't suppose you will be travelling unaccompanied 
 on so long a journey. There, my dear Countess, is what 
 I shall have the happiness to place at your disposal ! 
 * E. Rodocanachi, Elise Bacioccbien I take, pp. 200-202. 
 
 270 
 
Francois-Xavier Fabre 
 
 " Are you afraid of this tiny town, for fear of being 
 too conspicuous in it ? If so, warn me well beforehand 
 of the date of your departure from Paris. Try to remain 
 a week longer, if you can do so without inconvenience, 
 and I shall then hasten my arrival by a week. I shall 
 fly to my little entresol, and thence I shall run off straight 
 into your arms, wherein I shall find sincere happiness. 
 . . . I am ready to endure any trouble in order to be 
 with you once again. Alas, perhaps it will be our last 
 meeting, for at my present age, no matter how well I 
 feel, I always seem to see the end of all things near at 
 hand, and I face death with calmness. 
 
 " I beg you, my dear Countess, to reciprocate my 
 warm devotion in a heart that flies out to you and longs 
 to join you, despite all weathers. 
 
 " I have read with the deepest interest of your inter- 
 view with the Emperor. He evidently showed you more 
 deference and gentleness than he shows to mostpersons. . . . 
 
 " Certainly, whatever be the weather, whatever be 
 the date of your departure, nothing shall interfere with 
 my flying to greet you, a fortnight before you leave. Our 
 meeting will probably be the last pleasure on earth for 
 my old heart, but how intense a pleasure will it be ! "* 
 
 In the autumn of 1810, after a twelvemonth of honour- 
 able exile, the Countess of Albany was permitted to 
 leave Paris amid the lamentations of her charming friend, 
 Madame de Souza, who constantly wrote to her from 
 this time onward. Vague promises of a speedy return 
 were expressed to her and also to poor old Madame de 
 Maltzam, but there can be no doubt the Countess was 
 eager to return to Florence, if only to inspect the costly 
 monument to Alfieri that Canova had recently completed 
 in her absence. Together with Fabre, she was glad 
 to settle once more in Casa Alfieri, but in the following 
 year, 181 1, she and the painter again spent a whole winter 
 away from Florence, setting out for Rome in October. 
 
 * Le Porte feuille de la Comtesse d? Albany, pp. 68, 69. 
 
 271 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Here the pair remained some months, Fabre busy in 
 inspecting the galleries and buying works of art, whilst 
 the Countess enjoyed seeing the artistic treasures of 
 Rome under the guidance of so able and distinguished 
 a connoisseur. Rome must, however, have been full 
 of ghosts of the past for the portly, comfortable-looking, 
 rather untidy middle-aged lady, for she could scarcely 
 have resisted gazing upon the dingy old Stuart palace 
 in the Piazza Santi Apostoli with its memories of her 
 husband, of Bonstetten, and of all the gay lords and ladies 
 of a Rome that had been clean swept away in the cata- 
 clysm of the late French conquests. And the Eternal 
 City itself, with Pius VII. absent as a prisoner of the 
 hated tyrant, and with the austere General Miollis, 
 Alfieri's old opponent, in command of the alien garrison, 
 must have seemed melancholy and unnatural to her eyes, 
 which had seen its unreformed pleasures and splendours 
 under Pius VI. 
 
 Full of haunting memories also must have appeared 
 the tall mansion of the Canceilaria, her former abode 
 as the guest of the easy-going, easily-deceived royal 
 Cardinal ; also the Villa Strozzi with recollections yet 
 sweeter and more alluring, when she thought of its 
 occupant in the far-off days of her second residence in 
 this delightful but now deserted and despoiled city. 
 One day the Countess spent at Frascati, and one morning 
 she paid a visit to the tombs of her husband, his brother 
 and their father in the Grotte Vaticane, or crypt of St. 
 Peter's. Both these incidents she mentions in a dull 
 journal she kept during this winter in Rome, but she 
 makes no comment whatever upon her own bare state- 
 ments. The rest of this work is filled merely with accounts 
 or criticisms of various pictures, which are largely due 
 to the remarks addressed to her by Fabre in the course 
 of their wanderings in the churches, palaces and galleries 
 of the city.* 
 
 * L. G. Pelissier, Lettres et fccrits divers de la Comtesse £ Albany. 
 Souvenirs de V oyage en Italie. 
 272 
 
Francois-Xavier Fabre 
 
 * 
 
 From Rome the pair proceeded early in February 
 to Naples, where the Countess' second sister, the Princess 
 Castelfranco, was now living.* Travelling with them 
 were the French writer, Paul-Louis Courier, and the 
 English antiquary, Mr. James Millingen. Here, settled 
 in a villa in the western suburb of Posilipo, above the 
 waters of the Bay of Naples, the Countess rested for 
 several weeks in order to be near her sister. 
 
 This villa is somewhat celebrated as the picturesque 
 scene of Courier's dialogue entitled " Conversation chez 
 la Comtesse d'Albany," which consists of a series of 
 discussions, partly actual and partly imaginary, between 
 the Countess, Courier and Fabre upon the relative 
 superiority and value of the artist and the warrior. This 
 keen but friendly controversy is sustained with great 
 ardour for some hours, and is finally only ended by the 
 approach of the dinner hour. " The Countess was on 
 the point of replying to my last argument," relates 
 Courier, " when a footman entered to announce dinner. 
 ' It comes at an opportune moment for you, 5 said she 
 to Fabre, ' since I fancy you are come to the end of your 
 resources ! ' 6 On my honour, not at all ! ' was the 
 reply, ' I have not mentioned a fourth part of my argu- 
 ments as yet, nor my best ones either. See now, Signora, 
 in fairness, how I can retort.' ' No, no,' she interrupted, 
 4 I admit myself beaten, and am ready to grant every- 
 thing, provided we can go in to dinner ! 't So we sate 
 down, and during the course of the meal the Countess 
 continued to twit Fabre concerning both his argumenta- 
 tive efforts and his late panegyric of the arts. Apropos 
 to the arts, we also spoke of Lady Hamilton, who long 
 before had inhabited this very house ; and from Lady 
 Hamilton our talk drifted to Nelson, whom the Countess 
 had known and considered rather like Canova in appear- 
 
 # Her first husband, the Duke of Berwick, had died in 1787, and she had 
 since been married to Prince Castelfranco of Naples. 
 
 t Reumont, vol. ii. pp. 413-444. Strange to relate, not one of the many 
 detractors of the Countess of Albany has seized on this remark to prove 
 her lack of real literary interest or her esesntially vulgar nature ! 
 
 s 273 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 ance. After the meal, she and Fabre went out driving, 
 whilst I returned to my lodging and composed these 
 pages." 
 
 From Naples the Countess and Fabre returned in the 
 early spring to Florence, where they again settled down 
 to the usual life of painting, reading, entertaining and 
 daily exercise which made up the sum-total of Madame 
 d' Albany's daily existence during these latter years. 
 
 274 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 "QUEEN OF FLORENCE" 
 
 In the salon of the Casa Alfieri (for after his death thus was the 
 Palazzo Gianfigliazzi called), Chateaubriand was wont to read his 
 Martyres ; Lamartine his early poems ; Canova meditated on his 
 Graces ; Sismondi, the historian of the Italian Republics, spoke 
 vehemently of German philosophy ; Lord Byron told marvellous 
 tales of adventures and of amours ; Roscoe alluded to his discoveries 
 among the archives of Italy ; Rogers rhapsodised on the art of 
 poetry ; Cardinal Consalvi produced the costly snuff-boxes given 
 him by the sovereigns of Europe. Finally, Madame d' Albany 
 was wont to read aloud herself the letters of Foscolo to her most 
 intimate circle, or even those of Madame de Stael, in those days 
 a real power, and the only power that had been known to oppose 
 Napoleon I. without bayonets or cannon. 
 
 E. Del Cerro, Epstolario di Ugo Foscolo, p. 24 
 
 H I shut my eyes," writes the Italian statesman, Massimo 
 d'Azeglio in his Ricordi, " and I behold, as though it were 
 yesterday, the Countess' salon with the chimney-piece 
 facing the windows, and close beside it, sitting in a low 
 chair, the Countess of Albany with her inevitable fichu 
 a la Marie Antoinette crossed over her bosom. I see the 
 two familiar paintings by Fabre on the walls ; one of them 
 representing Saul with the Witch of Endor, and the other 
 some part of the ruins of Poiipeii. I see the round- 
 arched windows over-looking the Lung' Arno with their 
 three steps below, whereon I am myself seated as a small 
 boy enjoying an ice with two cakes, which was the Coun- 
 tess' fixed allowance for myself and my childish com- 
 panions. I see my father discussing politics with Mon- 
 sieur Lagenswerd, the Swedish Minister, with Carletti 
 and with Libri. Underneath the pictures I see the two 
 ponderous sofas of gold and white wood-work upholstered 
 
 275 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 with crimson damask ; I see them so clearly that I almost 
 fancy I can touch them. . . . 
 
 " Again I mark the ample proportions of that celebrity, 
 the Countess of Albany, dressed all in white with her large 
 old-fashioned shawl, slowly mount a chair, so as to place 
 her hand upon the box of sugar-plums that reposed on the 
 book-shelf overhead." * 
 
 These childish impressions of d'Azeglio's certainly 
 serve to bring before us the exact aspect of that salon in the 
 Casa Alfieri where, in the first quarter of the past century, 
 and especially in the years succeeding the fall of Napoleon, 
 the whole of Florentine society and the whole mass 
 of distinguished travellers of every nationality that at 
 once poured into Italy with the definite return of peace, 
 were wont to assemble. — " The great magic lantern of 
 Europe passes ever under your eyes, and perhaps your 
 own salon, Madame, can be considered as the best spot 
 whence to observe the spectacle 99 ; so writes Sismondi 
 to the Countess, when she complains to him of her utter 
 weariness and indifference to passing events, and merely 
 regards herself as a spectator of the international magic 
 lantern, or else as an onlooker from a window, whence she 
 observes with amusement but without vital interest the 
 never-ending stream of persons as they pursue their way. 
 A princess of wealth and culture living in a fine house in so 
 central a city as Florence could easily attract the cream 
 of travelling Europe in these years of feverish movement ; 
 and a personage with so romantic a past as Madame 
 d' Albany's was naturally reckoned one of the chief social 
 powers of the Tuscan capital. Her receptions were 
 thronged, and their vogue was immense, yet it is not 
 difficult to conceive them as being a little tedious and stiff. 
 In the salon that d'Azeglio has described for us so vividly, 
 the Countess was wont to receive of an evening, in the 
 same old-fashioned sombre dress and ever esconced in the 
 same seat, whilst in front of her two semi-circular rows of 
 chairs were filled by the ladies present, the men standing 
 * / Miei Ricordi, vol. i. pp. 81-83. 
 
 276 
 
"Queen of Florence" 
 
 behind them. Politics and literature were usually dis- 
 cussed, yet somehow these receptions lacked the spon- 
 taneous mirth and vivacity of the salon of a Madame de 
 Stael or a Madame Recamier. Cultured and affable as 
 was the mistress of Casa Alfieri, yet many persons were 
 wont to complain of the dullness and formality of her 
 nightly parties, for which, however, all strove only too 
 anxiously to obtain an invitation. Sometimes the Countess 
 was wont, as Foscolo christened it, to " alfierise," or tell 
 anecdotes of her dead-and-gone poet, which proved 
 highly acceptable to Foscolo himself and to such as were 
 blind admirers of that departed hero, but probably 
 sounded trivial enough to the chance visitor. Never- 
 theless, the Florentine salon of the " Reine d'Angleterre " 
 was all the fashion, so that a list of the names alone of the 
 distinguished persons who at one time or another fre- 
 quented her assemblies would fill several pages ; indeed, 
 there is hardly a celebrity of this period who visited Flo- 
 rence without paying his or her respects at Casa Alfieri. 
 Conspicuous amongst her guests were Sismondi, the Swiss 
 historian ; Ugo Foscolo, the poet ; Canova, the sculptor ; 
 Cardinal Consalvi ; the learned Duchess of Devonshire ; 
 the still lovely Princess Rospigliosi, who many years 
 before had acted in Alfieri's drama of Antigone in the 
 Roman palace ; Morghen and Jesi, the engravers ; 
 Pietro Benvenuti, the fashionable Tuscan painter; the 
 diplomatists, Carletti and Lucchesini ; the Florentine 
 Marchese Gino Capponi, who did not love his hostess 
 over-much, but at least did not insult her memory in the 
 vile manner of the ungallant and ungrateful d'Azeglio. 
 English men and women of quality or erudition also 
 swarmed in these rooms, where still could be seen the 
 canopy of a reigning queen and where every piece of 
 plate or china was ostentatiously emblazoned with the 
 royal arms of Britain. Thomas Moore and Lord Byron, 
 the poets ; Lord John Russell, the Liberal politician, 
 Sir Humphrey and Lady Davey ; the Misses Berry ; 
 Barnes Millingen, the antiquary ; and old Miss Cornelia 
 
 277 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Knight are amongst the hundreds of English visitors 
 who were entertained at various times by the widow of 
 " the Young Pretender." 
 
 Having ceased to take an active interest in life, and 
 being content to sit at the window, as she herself ex- 
 presses her attitude constantly, the Countess of Albany 
 had long since abandoned all care of her personal appear- 
 ance, so that her dowdy aspect, her squat figure, and the 
 queer but comfortable garments of her choice are com- 
 mented on severely by several of her guests, whose visits 
 to Casa Alfieri were undertaken from curiosity rather than 
 from pure friendship or respect. Says the critical 
 Chateaubriand in his Memoires d'Outre Tombeau, " I 
 knew Madame d' Albany at Florence. Age had pro- 
 duced in her the opposite effects that it usually brings. 
 Time is wont to ennoble the countenance, and when the 
 subject comes of a generous race, it imprints something 
 of nobility on the face it has marked. But the Countess 
 of Albany with her thick figure and her lack of expression 
 presented a common-place appearance. If the women 
 on Rubens' canvases could have grown old, they would 
 have resembled Madame d'Albany at the age I knew 
 her." * 
 
 Bonstetten, who had not set eyes on the Countess 
 since the distant days of her reign as " Queen of Hearts " 
 in the Palazzo Santi Apostoli, was also greatly shocked 
 at the changes Time had wrought in the lovely princess, 
 who had once carried on so sprightly a correspondence 
 with himself. After sentimentalising during his visit 
 to Rome in front of the former Stuart palace (which he 
 declared he never could pass without expecting to see the 
 smiling face of its erstwhile mistress peeping forth from 
 a window), the Swiss writer found her, so he tells us, 
 to his horror, grown an old woman whose voice alone 
 served to recall her past attractions. This was in the 
 spring of 1807, thirty years and more since he had last 
 beheld her, yet this childish old man of talent declares 
 * St. Beuve, Nouveaux Lundis, vol. v. p. 433. 
 
 278 
 
"Queen of Florence" 
 
 himself amazed at finding her thus altered and aged, 
 and become (in his eyes at least) uninteresting. Some 
 inkling of Bonstetten's disappointment or chagrin 
 must have revealed itself to the shrewd Countess, for 
 she lectures him with some asperity in a letter dated 
 February 9, 1808. 
 
 " ... I am astonished that such a philosopher as 
 yourself should deplore the changes wrought in faces and 
 figures during the passage of thirty years. I am very glad 
 to count myself among the number of those who change 
 thus. I should be truly sorry at fifty-five years of age to 
 look at things with the glasses of twenty, though such an 
 absurdity is common enough in Italy. Please do not 
 regret the one thing that affords me satisfaction. And 
 please do not be under the impression that I need to be- 
 come devote. My own philosophy supports me, whilst 
 my taste for study occupies my time, which is flying fast. 
 Despite my cynicism, I am not morose in society, and 
 you would never imagine how much I love to be alone and 
 how great is my contempt for men. I live on from day to 
 day, fearing nothing and expecting nothing. However, I 
 gladly seize any opportunity of helping the unhappy, of 
 whom at this moment there is an abundant supply. I 
 could not follow the example of the person you mention, 
 and bury myself amongst the mountains. I do not care 
 for the country, nor have I much interest in what is doing 
 in the world, though I delight in what is published, and I 
 want to have all the books possible. . . . 
 
 " Adieu, my dear Monsieur. Forgive me for wearying 
 you with my chatter, and rest assured of my warm esteem. 
 Only my heart is worthy of your esteem, for it is the sole 
 thing about me that distinguishes me from the common 
 crowd." * 
 
 That the Countess had lost all trace of her once vaunted 
 beauty is evident enough, whilst she herself assisted the 
 * L. G. Pelissicr, Lettres et Berks divers de la Comtesse d> Albany, pp. 1 5, 16. 
 
 279 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 work of " Nature's changing course untrimmed " by 
 dressing solely for comfort, and by neglecting a number 
 of subtle but not unusual contrivances for keeping at bay 
 the demon of old age. Nevertheless, she was not without 
 certain charms. Her hands and arms remained shapely 
 to the last ; her eyes (over the exact hue of which poets 
 and courtiers had once disputed) were still clear and 
 expressive; and her masses of iron-grey hair appeared 
 not unbecoming with their bunches of pale pink ribbands. 
 As she sate in her usual chair of state, " the sole Queen of 
 Florence," as Sismondi once jested, Madame d' Albany 
 still carried a certain dignity which her romantic past 
 invested with an additional interest. The gentle Lamar- 
 tine, a more indulgent critic than Chateaubriand or Bon- 
 stetten, speaks warmly of her bright eyes, her lovely 
 grey hair and well-formed mouth ; whilst he also men- 
 tions her intelligent and kindly countenance, in contrast 
 with the verdict of his fellow country-man on this point. 
 Indeed, it is hard to believe that so celebrated a woman, 
 who had seen so much, read so much, suffered so much, 
 and experienced so much, could really be endowed in 
 her old age with a vacant or expressionless face. Per- 
 haps her persistent attitude of cynicism or indifference 
 towards everybody and everything may have nettled 
 certain of the consequential geniuses, who entered her 
 salon and peradventure deemed their special claims to 
 notice overlooked by this calm impassive figure, sitting in 
 her old-world garments by the fireside and affecting to 
 live only in the distant past, although keenly following the 
 present with an irritating and contemptuous amusement. 
 
 It has been pointed out with truth by her biographers 
 that, whilst the salon of Casa Alfieri attracted the great 
 personages of the European social and intellectual worlds, 
 the actual correspondents of the Countess of Albany, a 
 numerous and cosmopolitan band, reckoned but few 
 persons of real eminence amongst their number. The 
 men and women, whose letters to the Countess still sur- 
 vive in hundreds, were mostly mediocrities of their age, 
 280 
 
"Queen of Florence" 
 
 who might even have remained wholly unknown to us 
 save for their chance connection with an historical figure, 
 such as Madame d' Albany. Almost every civilised 
 nation is represented in the bulky Portfolio* which the 
 industry of Monsieur Pelissier has collected and edited for 
 us, and from a glance at its contents, the reader will be 
 amazed at the variety of her chosen correspondents. 
 Britain is represented by the Duchess of Devonshire,t 
 Lady Davey, Mr. Millingen and Miss Knight ; whilst 
 America can boast of Mr. Everett and Mrs. Derby. The 
 poetess, Frederica Brun, and the diplomatist, Akerblad, 
 belong to the Scandinavian nations ; also many Russian 
 noblemen, including Count Bourtouline, were amongst 
 her acquaintances. The Germans, outside her own family, 
 are few in number, nor are there more than two or three 
 Spaniards ; but naturally Italy and France are well 
 represented. Amongst this mass of friends, a few illus- 
 trious names shine forth, but the majority are merely 
 people of fashion filled with the same reactionary ideals as 
 the great lady whom they address. There are a few letters 
 from Madame de Stael, but none of any special interest, 
 in spite of her genuine regard for the Countess. 
 
 Of the French correspondents, Madame de Souza, the 
 novelist, is by far the most interesting, and her picturesque, 
 affectionate, warm-hearted letters to the friend with 
 whom she was so intimate in Paris during the Countess' 
 enforced visit there in 1 809-1810 will undoubtedly give 
 pleasure. A very long-winded and very dull correspon- 
 dent is the Spanish officer, the Chevalier de Sobiratz, a true 
 codino of the old order of things, who sometimes diversi- 
 fies his voluminous epistles with long outpourings of 
 original verse. The letters of old Madame de Maltzam 
 at Soissons afford good reading, and serve to throw a 
 little light on that elusive personage, who was so closely 
 associated with all the phases of the married life of the 
 
 * Le Porte jeuille de la Comtesse d? Albany. 
 
 t Elizabeth, daughter of Frederick-Augustus, Earl of Bristol and Bishop 
 of Derry, wife of the fifth Duke of Devonshire. She died March 1824. 
 
 281 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Countess and of her romance with Alfieri. Several of 
 her letters are included in the Portefeuille, the last being 
 dated December 18, 1810, which must have been shortly 
 before her death. Although most of her friends are 
 strong supporters of the old system and intense haters of 
 Napoleon, yet we find several letters to her from the 
 liberal Abbe Luigi di Breme, of Milan, and also some 
 curious appeals from the Neapolitan reformer, Carlo 
 Poerio, and his wife. Michele Leoni, the Italian trans- 
 lator of the Shakespearean plays ; the Florentine historian, 
 Gino Capponi ; and, of course, her special friend, the Abbe 
 di Caluso figure amidst the Italian correspondents. 
 But, generally speaking, the Portefeuille of the Countess 
 does not afford either amusing or instructive reading, 
 since most of the letters included therein are unnecessarily 
 deferential in tone to the " Reine D'Angleterre," whom 
 her distant correspondents seem over-anxious to please. 
 
 Of those persons not in the front rank of celebrity, 
 Madame de Souza will undoubtedly be found by far the 
 most attractive by the reader. This lady, whom the 
 Countess had formerly known as the Comtesse de 
 Flahault during her first residence in Paris, had already 
 lost her first husband during the Reign of Terror, 
 and she had since been married to a Portuguese 
 diplomatist and man of letters, Monsieur de Souza, who 
 was deeply interested in producing a fine edition of the 
 works of his national poet, Camoens. Her son, young 
 Charles dc Flahault, the " Nene 99 of his mother's letters, 
 later rose to become an aide-de-camp to Napoleon and a 
 distinguished general ; a circumstance that did not tend 
 to endear either mother or son to the embittered heart of 
 Madame d' Albany, with her unmeasured hatred of the 
 French Emperor and her readiness to quarrel with all 
 who admired or defended his acts. Her present dis- 
 pleasure must evidently have been pretty forcibly 
 expressed in her own letters to Madame de Souza, for 
 the sympathetic little Frenchwoman complains woefully 
 of her adored friend, " her elder sister," the Countess of 
 282 
 
"Queen of Florence" 
 
 Albany, for quarrelling with her over matters she could 
 not possibly help at the time of the fall of the Empire, 
 when all Paris was seething with excitement and the old 
 party feelings were running high. At this juncture 
 Madame d' Albany had addressed to her friend in Paris 
 une grande lettre, concerning the iniquities of Buonaparte 
 and his rule, to which Adele de Souza was already pledged 
 owing to the attitude of her son, Nene, about whose con- 
 duct the Countess indulged in some most sharp and 
 personal comments. 
 
 " If anything could make me angry with you, my dear 
 Friend, it is the letter that I have just received. How 
 could you, with your knowledge of me, tell me that I 
 approved of Napoleon's conquests, because I only saw 
 therein chance of success and of money for my son ? 
 Thank Heaven, so vile a sentiment has never crossed my 
 mind ! And as to money, the invasion of Portugal has 
 deprived us of more wealth than Charles is ever likely to 
 acquire in his campaigns — those hateful campaigns which 
 took him away from my side and caused me such sorrow 
 and anxiety. I tell you, I did not expect to find such a 
 remark in any letter of yours. It has wounded and dis- 
 turbed me, but I feel sure you will be sorry for having 
 written thus. . . . 
 
 " I shall neither argue nor dispute with you on any 
 political matter. They have slandered me, but slander 
 will pass ; and if it does not pass, then I myself shall 
 pass.-' On the judgment day, the one thing that counts is 
 to be guiltless of causing pain to anybody, and that I can 
 freely say to the Almighty who sees into all hearts. 
 
 " Nene is no longer with your ex-passion. ..." * 
 
 The last allusion here is to Hortense de Beauharnais, 
 once Queen of Holland, and the mother of the future 
 Emperor Napoleon III., with whom Charles de Flahault 
 was very intimate, being indeed her acknowledged lover. 
 
 * Le Portefeuilky pp. 228, 229. The date is only " 26," but is probably 
 January 26, 18 1 5. 
 
 283 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 The Countess had formerly during her visit to Paris ex- 
 pressed such admiration for Hortense, that Madame de 
 Souza used playfully to allude to the queen as her passion, 
 an epithet which had always met with Madame d' Albany's 
 approval — at least until the fall of the Buonapartes. 
 The differences between the pair of friends were eventually 
 settled, and later the Countess seems even to have roused 
 herself, for his mother's sake, to forgive Nene for having 
 once more embraced the cause of his master during the 
 episode of the Hundred Days, when General Charles de 
 Flahault was found amongst his old officers who welcomed 
 the returning Emperor. Escaping from France after 
 Waterloo, Flahault retired to England, where he was 
 fortunate enough to win the hand of a Scottish heiress, 
 Miss Margaret Mercer Elphinstone, a former friend of 
 the Princess Charlotte, and his betrothal to this lady 
 urged Flahault to demand grace from his mother's old 
 friend in the following letter. 
 
 " Drummond Castle, June 30, 18 1 7. 
 " Madame, — You have always treated me with such 
 kindness since my childhood, and even last year you have 
 afforded me a proof that this old kindly feeling still 
 remains, despite all circumstances, that I venture to hope 
 that you will receive the news of my marriage with Miss 
 Mercy (sic) Elphinstone, daughter of Lord Keith, with 
 interest and pleasure. Although her birth and dowry en- 
 titled her to expect a match with a leading Englishman, 
 yet she has preferred a stranger and a beggar to her own 
 countrymen.* Her relations have regarded our marriage 
 with disfavour ; a fact which will not astonish you, when 
 you think of my political views and career, and of the 
 English prejudice against foreigners. But I shall do my 
 utmost to remove all their dislike to me, and to prove to 
 
 # Monsieur Pelissier very pertinently points out here that the Stranger 
 malheureux was a peer of France, a Count and General of the Empire, and 
 the acknowledged lover of a Queen ! 
 
 284 
 
"Queen of Florence" 
 
 them that my nation, in spite of its sad reputation, can 
 also bring forth model husbands. 
 
 " I am addressing you, Madame, from Drummond 
 Castle, where the name of Albany and the traditions of 
 loyalty still linger. My wife's family has itself suffered 
 for its devotion to the Stuarts. I hope, Madame, that 
 will count as a reason for you to receive her with kindness, 
 perhaps in a year or so hence, at Florence. I shall always 
 remember that, in spite of his cockade, you once received 
 your favourite Nene in Florence, an exceptional favour 
 that made Nene proud and the Due de Feltre, then 
 General Clark, jealous ! 
 
 " Accept, my dear excellent Lady, the homage of the 
 sincere and unchanging respect of your devoted 
 
 " Charles de Flahault." * 
 
 It will perhaps be of sufficient interest to relate here 
 that this distinguished young friend of Madame d' Albany's 
 lived to the ripe age of eighty-five, dying in 1870, three 
 years after his wife, who on her father's death had become 
 Baroness Keith in her own right. After the Revolution 
 of July 1830, the Comte de Flahault recovered his peerage 
 and rank of general in France ; served the government of 
 King Louis Philippe as ambassador at Vienna, and rose 
 to still higher favour under the Second Empire, wherein 
 his natural son by Queen Hortense, the Due de Morny, 
 appeared so prominent a figure at the Imperial Court of 
 his half-brother. In i860, Flahault was appointed am- 
 bassador of the French Empire at St. James' ; and in 
 1864, Napoleon III. marked his sincere appreciation of 
 his services by naming him Grand Chancellor of the 
 Legion of Honour, an appointment which served to 
 
 * Le Portefeuille, p. 323. The marriage between the Comte de Flahault 
 and Miss Elphinstone, daughter and heiress of Sir George Keith Elphinstone, 
 Baron and Viscount Keith, took place in July, 181 7, a few weeks after the 
 despatch of the above letter, which seems a little premature in its allusion 
 to a " marriage." — See also Monsieur F. Lolliee, Un Frere d'Empereur. 
 (Paris : Emile Paul, 1909.) 
 
 285 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 associate the Second Empire with the most illustrious 
 survivor of the reign of the first Napoleon. 
 
 Did space permit, it would be pleasant to quote freely 
 from the letters of Madame de Souza during the preg- 
 nant years 1810 to 181 5, for they contain a number of 
 interesting details about interesting people ; whilst 
 they present us with a charming and accurate picture of 
 the daily life of her household, her Casa, as she calls it. 
 Her gentle unassuming nature, her shrewdness, her 
 dignified attitude whilst placed in a position of great 
 difficulty owing to her martial son's behaviour, all com- 
 bine to make of Adele de Souza a most sympathetic and 
 agreeable personality, so that it is with reluctance that 
 we turn from this cultivated Parisian hostess with her 
 cheerful house, her tiny pleasaunce full of roses, her 
 collection of pictures and her steadfast devotion to 
 Madame d' Albany, which was proof even against her 
 ungenerous and spiteful remarks at a time of great 
 anxiety. 
 
 Amongst the male correspondents of the Countess of 
 Albany, we note at once two men who tower head and 
 shoulders above the smaller fry — the wandering English 
 dilettanti, the querulous officials such as Sobiratz, the 
 half-forgotten French or Italian diplomatists and cardinals, 
 the obscure Russian noblemen — and these are Ugo 
 Foscolo, the poet, and Sismondi, the historian of the 
 mediaeval republics of Italy. Of her intimacy with the 
 former we intend to speak at length in the ensuing 
 chapter, after a brief account of the friendship and 
 correspondence between the Countess of Albany and 
 Sismondi. 
 
 Born in 1773, the son of a pastor of Geneva, though 
 the descendant of an ancient Italian family from Pisa, 
 Jean-Charles-Leonard-Simonde de Sismondi was a witness 
 in his youth of the excesses of the revolutionary party in 
 Geneva, and even suffered imprisonment together with 
 his father. These early experiences not unnaturally 
 gave the young man a deep hatred and horror of the 
 286 
 
"Queen of Florence" 
 
 French Republic, which he nursed whilst living on a 
 small estate near the little cathedral-town of Pescia, in 
 Tuscany, where his mother and himself had sought an 
 asylum from the blind violence of their fellow-citizens. 
 In spite of the claims upon his time that were caused by 
 his property at Pescia, the young Sismondi became an 
 indefatigable student in the great libraries of the neigh- 
 bouring cities of Florence, Pisa and Lucca ; and to such 
 good purpose were his researches undertaken, that in 
 1807 he gave to the light the first two volumes of his 
 chief work, The History of the Italian Republics, which 
 after a lapse of a century still retains its high reputation 
 as an important contribution to Italian mediaeval his- 
 tory. This achievement at once raised the young writer 
 to fame, so that his society was eagerly courted by the 
 Countess of Albany, by Madame de Stael and by other 
 men and women celebrated in the world of letters. Iri 
 his first published letter to Madame d' Albany, which 
 relates his gift to her of these two recently published 
 volumes, he speaks as though his acquaintance with her 
 were very slight and recent, recommending himself to 
 her favour as a most zealous admirer of the late Vittorio 
 Alfieri. 
 
 "Pescia, June 18, 1807. 
 "... I think that the Friend of Alfieri, who hence- 
 forth is consecrating her life to render homage to the 
 memory of this grand man, will regard with favour a 
 work from one of his most fervent admirers ; a work 
 wherein she will recognise many of the conceptions and 
 ideals that Alfieri has himself produced with so much of 
 earnest eloquence. Before the close of this summer, I 
 expect to visit Florence to pay you my respects and to 
 hear from your own lips, Madame, your verdict on my 
 Refubliques ItaliennesP * 
 
 This quotation is drawn from the first of a series of 
 letters which forms a continuous correspondence with the 
 
 * Taillandier, Lettres Inedites de J C. L. de Sismondi, ttfc, pp. 67, 68. 
 
 287 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Countess from this date until the fall of the French 
 Empire. A very large proportion, if not the whole, of 
 Sismondi's letters to the Countess has been preserved 
 intact at Montpellier, but unfortunately the replies of 
 Madame d' Albany still remain to be discovered. During 
 these seven years, a literary intimacy of a most interest- 
 ing type existed between the elderly Countess and the 
 young Swiss historian, who in the beginning usually 
 found themselves in full agreement upon all current 
 political problems. Sismondi occasionally spends some 
 time in Florence, and on all these brief visits he appears 
 as a welcome guest in Casa Alfieri, where he was wont to 
 hold long conversations with his hostess, whom in one 
 of his letters with apparent sincerity he styles his " greatest 
 source of pride" {son plus grand titre tforgeuiJ). Al- 
 though courteous to the last degree towards this great 
 lady, who aspired to be thought the social and intellec- 
 tual queen of Florence, Sismondi, never shows himself 
 obsequious or flattering ; always upright and honest, he 
 never concedes any point from a mere desire to please 
 the important lady whom he holds in such esteem and 
 veneration. His eulogy of her own ability and her singu- 
 lar gift of drawing forth the powers of her guests is 
 therefore all the more valuable ; and certainly Sis- 
 mondi's frank tribute to the Countess' intellectual force 
 ought never to be omitted in any account of her. 
 
 " I have brought home to my mother," so Sismondi 
 writes from Pescia on June 23, 181 2, "a head and a heart 
 full of all I have seen, all I have heard, all I have attempted 
 in Florence. I have lived more fully, I have thought 
 more deeply, during those three days than I could ever 
 have done in three weeks at Pescia. But it is you your- 
 self, Madame, that have opened out this new life to me, 
 and roused this energy of mine, which is not habitual 
 with me, I assure you. Sometimes I reproach myself 
 for having talked so much, so that I dread your possible 
 accusation of chattering. But then again it was yourself 
 that supplied me with my words, and roused my anima- 
 288 
 
"Queen of Florence" 
 
 tion by making me feel in our conversations a certain 
 satisfaction to which I had long been a stranger. So, 
 after all, I flatter myself you cannot well blame me for a 
 fault whereof you were the principal cause ! On the 
 contrary, I should like to begin all over again. I long and 
 hope to pass many hours of the future in your delightful 
 company, and here in Pescia I try to feed on such re- 
 collections of your conversation as still flit through my 
 mind."* 
 
 After a visit to Paris, however, where amongst others 
 he was warmly welcomed by the kind Madame de Souza, 
 Sismondi began slowly but definitely to shed his deep- 
 rooted prejudices and his distrust of the French emperor 
 and his policy, and this change in his opinions was regarded 
 with growing indignation by the Countess of Albany, 
 Against her accusations, often couched in sharp language, 
 the historian sought to defend and justify his conduct in 
 open but courteous terms, begging the Countess to 
 remember their points of agreement rather than their 
 new-sprung differences. With the fall of Napoleon in 
 the spring of 1814 this literary duel came to a head, and 
 Sismondi thus defends himself against the bitter charges 
 of his correspondent in Florence. — " I admit without 
 restriction all you say about Buonaparte ; so why should 
 not you admit all I say, or even think about the Allies ? 
 It is only that you always look back upon the past, whilst 
 I am ever watching the future. Each of us thinks the 
 devil plays a great part in all we see before us, and it is 
 likely enough that we are both in the right." t And 
 again in a letter from Geneva, his native town, written on 
 October 6, 18 14, Sismondi returns to the charge. 
 
 " In your last letter you were still all-triumphant over 
 the recent changes, full of hope for the future and full of 
 horror for the past. My opinion is very different, for I 
 am full of a kindly feeling for the power that has fallen 
 
 * Lettres de Sismondi, p. 149. t Ibidem. 
 
 T 289 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 and is no longer to be feared, and full of distrust of what 
 is now being brought forth. I am much afraid that, as 
 so often happens in such a case, we hold our separate 
 opinions with hard determination. I perceive with a 
 growing concern what is now proceeding all over Europe, 
 with the sole exception of France. I can understand 
 the hatred felt towards a monarch of boundless ambition, 
 but such hatred is not equal to the intensity of my con- 
 tempt for the silly sovereigns, and I do not know whether 
 I feel the more disgust or indignation, when I behold so 
 many princes and so many governments being re-estab- 
 lished solely on account of their folly and utter incapacity. 
 I strongly doubt whether this restoration, to-day so 
 universal and so acclaimed, can long serve to satisfy the 
 nations ; whilst I fancy this reaction towards despotism 
 seems to us both the presage of fresh revolutions in the 
 future. Then, possibly, Madame, we shall once more 
 find ourselves in full agreement, though till that day I 
 sincerely trust our disputes will not weaken the friendship 
 wherewith you have deigned to honour me." * 
 
 That Sismondi was correct in his prophecy that the 
 Countess would ere long declaim against the imbecility 
 and blindness of the restored princes can easily be con- 
 firmed from a letter of hers to Foscolo, which is included 
 in the following chapter. In a letter dated a few days 
 before the momentous escape of Napoleon from Elba, 
 the historian again enlarges on the theme of the differences 
 between himself and the Countess, the reason for which 
 he seeks to find in the more personal, and therefore more 
 vouthful, outlook of the lady upon the world of individual 
 men rather than of political ideals — a curious contrast 
 in masculine and feminine reasoning in a clever man and a 
 clever woman. 
 
 " Our failure to agree results from the circumstance 
 that you attach yourself to -persons and I to principles. 
 Each of us is faithful to the original object of our devotion 
 
 * Ibidem, p. 259. 
 
 290 
 
"Queen of Florence" 
 
 or our hate ; I to things, you to individuals. For myself 
 I always profess the same approval of liberal ideas, the 
 same horror of despotism, the same love of civil and 
 religious liberty, the same contempt and the same loath- 
 ing of intolerance and the doctrine of passive obedience. 
 Whereas, Madame, you keep the same attitude towards 
 persons, in whatsoever situation you may find them. 
 Those whom you have pitied and admired in misfortune, 
 you also admire in prosperity ; and those whom you 
 execrated during their day of tyranny, you still execrate in 
 their fall. You keep for the Pope on his throne the 
 respect he gained whilst a prisoner ; you remain equally 
 faithful to the ejected kings, to the refugees, and to the 
 priests, although they demand your pity no longer. On 
 the other hand, you are just as bitter against the Emperor 
 as when, with the sole exception of yourself, the whole 
 world cringed at his feet. In comparing these two varieties 
 of political faith, yours to persons and mine to principles, 
 I shall observe, despite any protest on your part, that 
 your view is far more passionate, far more youthful than 
 mine ; and that notwithstanding all your efforts to keep 
 calm by means of the study of philosophy and a lengthy 
 retirement, you still own a warmer heart and more fiery 
 sentiments than the man whom you sometimes in your 
 letters accuse of youth and immaturity ! " * 
 
 One can imagine the feelings of horror wherewith the 
 Countess must have heard the news, a few weeks later, 
 that the wavering Sismondi had actually decided to 
 support the returning Emperor, by whom he had been 
 most graciously received in Paris in the opening week of 
 May 1815. Would that we could see with our own eyes 
 the letter the enraged lady indited to this new convert 
 to Napoleonic despotism ! She herself tells us in a letter 
 to Foscolo that she had spoken pretty plainly to the 
 erring Sismondi, so we can only imagine an exceedingly 
 severe lecture. Such conduct naturally helped to 
 
 * Ibidem, p. 270. 
 
 29I 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 weaken the valued bonds of friendship, yet even for such 
 heinous behaviour as his recognition of Napoleon during 
 the Hundred Days, the historian was eventually forgiven. 
 Within a year of this incident Sismondi presented to the 
 Countess, " as an offering in hope of forgiveness," the 
 three recently published volumes of his Italian Republics, 
 and presumably the gift was graciously accepted, for he 
 writes again ten days later to express his intention of 
 calling ere long at Casa Alfieri. More letters follow, 
 and with many details of interest concerning Madame de 
 Stael — Sismondi may almost be described as forming an 
 intellectual link between the salons of Madame de Stael 
 and of Madame d'Albany — Bonstetten, Lord Byron, 
 and other persons of interest ; the last communi- 
 cation between this pair of correspondents being dated 
 November 2, 1823, within three months of the death of 
 the Countess. 
 
 Sismondi had already announced to his old patroness 
 his marriage with Miss Jessie Allen, the daughter of Mr. 
 Allen of Cresselly, a Pembrokeshire squire, on April 19, 
 1 8 19, whom he had met whilst she was travelling in Italy 
 with her sister, Lady Mackintosh. He hopes that his 
 old friend will receive Madame Sismondi when they 
 arrive in Florence, especially since it appears the lady 
 had already been presented to the Countess. Sismondi 
 himself died at Geneva in 1 842, whilst his widow survived 
 her husband many years, settling at Tenby in South 
 Wales, where a few persons still living can recall her as an 
 agreeable and clever old lady, who had seen and 
 experienced much in the intellectual world whereof we 
 have just been speaking. 
 
 292 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 UGO FOSCOLO * 
 
 " It is some eight or ten years since I last saw Monsieur Foscolo. 
 He was then quite a youth, but he had a magnificent face, 
 melancholy and passionate in its expression, and closely resem- 
 bling one's idea of his own hero, Jacopo Ortis. At the same 
 time he showed a quickness, a flow of subjects, an eagerness in 
 his conversation which made him a most agreeable person to 
 meet. ... Is it ambition, or is it dissipation that has turned him 
 off that path of glory, which he seemed so anxious to pursue ? 
 I can only hope that neither one nor the other was the cause, 
 and that in the midst of the general upheaval his ideals remained 
 as pure as of old." — Letter of Sismondi to the Countess of 
 Albany, of October 12, 18 12 
 
 The correspondence of the Countess of Albany with 
 Ugo Foscolo ranks as second in importance only to that 
 with Teresa Mocenni, and we therefore offer no apology 
 for inserting here some portion of the thirty-nine letters, 
 which she addressed to the Italian patriot-poet between 
 1 81 3-1 816, the last-named year being the date of his 
 departure for England, where he finally died in 1827. 
 The letters, or portions of letters, quoted ought to speak 
 for themselves, so that we leave the reader confidently 
 to draw therefrom the same conclusion as our own; 
 namely, that whatever prejudiced Italian writers may 
 aver to the contrary on this subject, the relations between 
 Foscolo and the Countess were strictly those of a great 
 lady of sixty, who strove (vainly as it will be seen) to 
 exercise a benevolent and on the whole a judicious 
 influence over a hasty and unscrupulous man of letters, 
 
 * The quotations contained in this chapter are taken (unless otherwise 
 stated) from Signore Antona-Traversi's work, Lettere Inedite di Luigia di 
 Stolberg, Comtessa d? Albany, a Ugo Foscolo. (Roma, 1887.) 
 
 2 93 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 nearly a quarter of a century her junior. Her strong 
 affection for Foscolo is never once disguised ; her advice 
 to him is always sound and practical, even if somewhat 
 cynically material — and the Countess was truly, as Gino 
 Capponi once affirmed, un fd* materiolotta — whilst her 
 open interest in his love intrigues with his " Graces," 
 if not a wholesome sentiment, goes at least to prove as 
 genuine her constantly recurring statement that for her 
 own part she infinitely preferred the poet as a friend 
 than as a lover : a statement which some of the Italian 
 critics stoutly deny, for the sole reason that they appear 
 to regard such an attitude in any woman towards any 
 man as utterly inconceivable. Yet whatever else Madame 
 d'Albany may have been, she was no mere elderly 
 coquette. Her flagrant disregard of the fashion of the 
 day, her dowdy appearance, her studious and retired 
 life, her early hours, all serve to exhibit her what she 
 described herself ; a great lady who had enjoyed her 
 share of love, of rivalry and of pleasure, and was now 
 content to sit at the window and gaze with mingled 
 amusement and contempt at the magic-lantern show 
 of the passing years. She was a mature Lady of Shalott 
 watching in her enchanted mirror the events of the 
 outside world, but a Lady whose Sir Launcelot had long 
 since come and gone, and who neither expected nor 
 desired a second knight. There is not a scrap of evidence 
 to be found in these letters for the spiteful comments 
 and deductions concerning this friendship with Foscolo, 
 that may be said to find their full expression in the 
 following outrageous remarks, which we quote as a 
 specimen of modern Italian vituperation against the 
 " Donna Amata " of Alfieri. 
 
 " The Countess of Albany, thanks to the blessing of 
 her sixty years, being prevented from according her heart 
 to the author of the Sepolcri, tendered him her special 
 and powerful protection ; a protection which Quirina 
 Mocenni-Magiotti, writing to Foscolo, ironically named 
 maternal ; but which the Countess would gladly have 
 called by a more amorous name, if Foscolo, with regard 
 294 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 to women, had owned the same taste as the painter 
 Fabre. However, in the bottom of her heart, she never 
 knew how to forgive the Poet for having preferred the 
 smile of Isabella Roncioni, or the graceful figure of the 
 Nencini, or the cultured mind of Quirina Mocenni to 
 her own very mature attractions. For such neglect 
 she avenged herself — as old flames know how — by saying 
 every possible vile thing of her youthful rivals." * 
 
 From such unfair abuse as this the actual contents of 
 her correspondence with Foscolo will prove Madame 
 d'Albany's best protection, and we feel we can safely 
 leave her character in the hands of the reader. 
 
 Ugo Foscolo, the son of a Venetian father and a Greek 
 mother, was born in 1776, at Zante, one of the Ionian 
 Islands. Full of vague but patriotic fervour and of 
 poetic ideas as yet unmatured, he had visited Florence 
 so early as the close of the past century ; but he does 
 not on this occasion seem to have ventured to introduce 
 himself to the notice of the great Alfieri, of whose verses, 
 aspirations and ideals he had always been a blind admirer. 
 Still a very young man at the date of this first visit, he 
 had, however, secretly and at a distance, pursued the 
 footsteps of his idol, following the gloomy and self- 
 absorbed poet of Asti in his wanderings through the 
 historic churches of Santa Croce and Santa Maria 
 Novella, enriched with the tombs of the illustrious dead 
 or else had dogged his footsteps, as Alfieri strode fiercely 
 and blindly along the mouldering ring of the mediaeval 
 walls of Florence, or beside the reed-beds fringing the 
 deserted banks of the Arno. In the inimitably beautiful 
 language of his famous poem, the Sepolcri, Foscolo has pre- 
 served his romantic picture of Alfieri as he first appeared 
 to the young disciple's warm imagination and worshipping 
 eyes at this period. 
 
 . . . a questi marmi 
 Venne spesso Vittorio ad ispirarsi. 
 Irato a patri numi, errava muto 
 Ove Arno e piu deserto. 
 
 * Emilio del Cerro, Epistolario . . . diUgo Foscolo. 
 
 295 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 A dozen years later Foscolo revisited Florence at the 
 age of thirty-six, surrounded by the glamour of his 
 Sepolcri and the Last Letters of Jacopo Ortis, that morbid 
 romance which may be accounted an Italian version of 
 Goethe's Sorrows of Werther. Naturally, he received 
 a warm, even an enthusiastic welcome in the Tuscan 
 capital, then under the easy rale of Elise Buonaparte. 
 His literary fame and his past career with its varied 
 adventures appealed strongly to all, for one who was 
 at once " poet, soldier, philosopher, novelist, patriot 
 and untamed rover," cannot have appeared otherwise 
 than as a romantic personage. Moreover, his sad reputa- 
 tion for gallantry must have acted as an additional 
 attraction to the frivolous ladies of Florentine society, 
 of whom Madame d'Albany's pen has left us so unpleasant 
 but apparently so veracious a picture. To the Countess 
 herself this fascinating disciple of her dead Friend 
 naturally appealed with a special force. Foscolo's 
 poetic imagination, his marked ability, his agreeable 
 conversation, his good looks (whose type recalled those 
 of Alfieri), his extreme deference to herself as the widow 
 of a king, as the " Degno Amore " of his idol, as a woman 
 of unusual talents and experience, all combined, and very 
 naturally so, to invest him in her eyes with a deep and 
 peculiar interest. Again, we appeal to the reader to dis- 
 cover for himself how far that peculiar interest extended, 
 what was its exact nature, and to what extent she helped 
 this brilliant but erratic genius with her social influence, 
 her counsel, and also, be it added, with her purse. 
 
 Very soon after his arrival in Florence, Foscolo became 
 an habitual visitor at Casa Alfieri and an intimate friend 
 both of the Countess and of Fabre, who at Madame 
 d'Albany's request began to paint a portrait of the 
 handsome poet. " On the evenings," so he writes, 
 " when I do not wander forth to commune with the 
 river, the trees and the clouds, or do not require solitude 
 in my own chamber, I go to pass a short hour with the 
 Countess of Albany. And I go there because I am 
 296 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 lodging hard by, because she herself retires early at ten 
 o'clock, and because she often talks about Alfieri." Many 
 and long were the discussions on politics and literature 
 between Foscolo and his hostess in the salon overlooking 
 the Lung' Arno ; that same room which some years 
 later received the impressionable Lamartine, who 
 describes his ecstasy in watching from its windows the 
 moonbeams sparkling on the Arno and in meditating 
 on the departed Alfieri. These intellectual conversa- 
 tions in Casa Alfieri revealed, as the Countess well knew, 
 only one side of the poet's mind, for intrigue occupied 
 a large portion of his leisure, and it was against this 
 perpetual waste of his time, his health, and his scanty 
 means on such employment, that the Countess was for 
 ever cautioning him. Possibly her advice and lectures 
 were not wholly disinterested ; but who can deny that 
 the time spent by Foscolo in her salon was not more 
 profitable than the long hours wasted on his Florentine 
 " Graces," who in Madame d'Albany's own bitter words 
 were wholly averse to sharing the lover with his Muse ? 
 
 The first of these letters following is directed to the 
 poet at the picturesque Villa dell' Ombrellino, on the 
 beautiful hill of Bellosguardo above Florence, where he 
 had lately taken up his abode. 
 
 "Monday, Apil iqtk, 1813. 
 " My dear Ugo, — . . . I did not know you had been 
 ill, and I am very sorry for it. But I am not surprised, 
 for it is too great a strain on your constitution, this 
 running backwards and forwards twice daily between 
 Florence and Bellosguardo. You make the mistake of 
 thinking your physical strength equal to your mental 
 powers, and in your warm imagination you picture 
 yourself as a Hercules. Have a care, I beg you ! Health 
 is the only substantial blessing in this world, and it is 
 something more than a necessity to one like yourself, 
 who offers prayer and sacrifice to the God of Love in 
 addition to the vows he has already made to Apollo. 
 
 2 97 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 " I miss your presence, for I had grown only too much 
 accustomed to enjoy your agreeable and instructive 
 conversation, which it would be difficult to match. 
 When I received your letter last evening, your former 
 Graces seemed anxious as to your state of health, and 
 in particular the R . . . and Isabella (Roncioni) eagerly 
 asked me for news of you. Your attention to our sex 
 has made you the spoiled darling of the ladies. As to 
 myself, I fancy I appreciate your high moral gifts, for 
 I consider you both good and talented, and I am ready 
 to work warmly and sincerely on your behalf. Make 
 any possible use therefore you like of me, and rely on 
 my interest and affection. Descend from your hill [of 
 Bellosguardo] to be nursed and to be nearer us. I await 
 your coming with pleasure. 
 
 " Drink some milk boiled with sugar for your digestion, 
 and try to extinguish the mischief in your breast with 
 which you ought not to trifle." 
 
 A letter from Leghorn three months later, dated 
 July 15, bids farewell to Foscolo, who, although still in 
 indifferent health, was on the point of rejoining the 
 army at Milan. 
 
 " I am very sorry, my dear Monsieur, for what you 
 tell me in your letter to-day. I fear you are inclined 
 to burn the candle at both ends. When you work so 
 much with your head, you must be moderate in other 
 things. . . . The Muses demand continence, so the 
 change to Milan will benefit you. 
 
 " Life is a sea of worries and contradictions, besides 
 the enemies we have to guard against. Monsieur Fabre 
 sends you his compliments. He is kept to his bed by 
 the gout, which he strives in vain to cure. I nurse him 
 as best I can, for it is in sickness that friends are most 
 essential. I hope your friends, of either sex, do not 
 abandon you to solitude at Bellosguardo. Return as 
 soon as possible to Florence for the sake of those who 
 298 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 love your art and for the sake of your Graces. Tell 
 me your news and all your adventures ; from one brief 
 hint I can guess the rest. Keep well ; take care of your- 
 self ; and remember we all have but one life to live, 
 and also that if we wish to leave a great name behind us, 
 there is need of all our faculties to attain that end. I 
 have filled my paper. Comptez sur ma discretion?'' 
 
 From the contents of the following letter, dated 
 August 5, it becomes evident that the crafty Foscolo 
 had addressed his distinguished correspondent in terms 
 that were certainly amatory, or at least likely to become 
 so, if the Countess were willing to accept his profes- 
 sions in good faith. The shrewd sense of Madame 
 d'Albany was, however, fully proof against the wiles of 
 the patriot-poet, whom she was anxious to please but 
 not to serve. 
 
 " My dear Ugo, ... I thank you for your very kind 
 recollection of me, which I value greatly. If I had 
 more self-esteem and less experience of the world, I 
 should be deeply flattered by your remarks, but I lay 
 all eulogy at the feet of One who, for only too brief a 
 space, occupied the house that you sometimes visit and 
 that always receives you with pleasure, because, apart 
 from your fine qualities of mind, your native goodness 
 of heart attracts me. I can assure you that I miss your 
 presence every evening, and I tell my friends frankly of 
 my loss. But I realise your better worth as a friend than 
 as a lover ; however, at my age and in my circumstances 
 you suit me admirably. 
 
 " . . . The first of your Graces, La Nencini, is consol- 
 ing herself for your departure with a handsome French- 
 man, but then they tell me you had already grown cold 
 to her before you left Florence. You take love like a 
 philosopher, enjoying all the fruit you can get and avoid- 
 ing the thorns. Very good ! Fortunately, Italian 
 women are like yourself ; whilst I could never be of their 
 
 299 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 opinion, for I always intended to surrender myself 
 absolutely to a first and solitary passion. 
 
 " You do not tell me if my dear Ricciarda * is to be put 
 on the stage, but of course you will tell me how it succeeds. 
 It ought to win approval, for it is graceful and pleasant, 
 and full of a passion, whereof your Graces are wholly 
 incapable, luckily for yourself ! With regard to your 
 Graces, you must be more moderate, otherwise you will 
 die young. Keep all your power for the Muses, and only 
 spare a trifle of it for the Graces. One a week is sufficient. 
 
 " That poor bankrupt Molini, the book-seller, has not 
 sent me your translation of Sterne ; first he tried to 
 deny your gift to me, and then declared the volumes 
 had not yet been sent from Pisa. I am anxious to read 
 them, as I am to read anything of yours, for all your 
 work carries a spice of originality with it. The Abbe di 
 Caluso is here, but is just leaving. Monsieur Fabre, 
 gouty as ever, sends you messages. I keep very well, 
 and await with impatience your company and conversa- 
 tion at my round table, no longer garnished with knights. 
 Keep your friendly feelings towards me, since I deserve 
 them in return for my friendship to yourself. I have 
 nothing to recommend me, except that I am a good 
 woman very devoted to her friends and making no claims 
 upon them. Return quickly hither to sacrifice to your 
 Graces, and to bestow on me the boon of your cheerful, 
 agreeable and instructive society." 
 
 " Florence, August 15th, 1813. 
 " . . . You observe that in Florence we hardly think 
 of great passing events, with such trifles are the Florentine 
 occupied. We shall discuss that question on^rour return 
 hither. As to love, of necessity you regard it as a writer 
 of tragedies, who has not yet bestowed his heart seriously 
 and still wants to play the butterfly. I agree with your 
 first Tuscan Flame (the Roncioni) in preferring you as 
 
 * The play of that name, which Ugo Foscolo dedicated to Lord John 
 Russell. 
 
 300 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 a friend rather than as a lover ; and I am glad of it, for 
 one can count on your friendship, whilst you can rely 
 on its return on my part. I know the fundamental 
 goodness of your heart, apart from the qualities which 
 attract and amuse society here. I eagerly await your 
 return. Monsieur Sismondi writes me that he too will 
 be in Florence in October. I want you to make his 
 acquaintance, for he unites solid worth with agreeable 
 manners, an unusual combination in original minds, 
 which are often morose and haughty. 
 
 " Monsieur Fabre, who is still a martyr to the gout, 
 thanks you for your kind remembrances. He has almost 
 finished restoring a superb picture by Raphael in his 
 early manner, that has recently come to light." 
 
 The next letter, dated Friday, November 19, refers 
 to Foscolo's mistress, Madame Maddalena Bignami, at 
 Milan, and also foreshadows the beginning of the writer's 
 break with Sismondi, whom she has only lately so belauded 
 to Foscolo. 
 
 " My dear Ugo, — I have only just received your letter 
 of Monday from Bologna. Please accept my warmest 
 thanks for sending me your news. I am still more anxious- 
 ly expecting your letter from Milan, to tell me you have 
 escaped capture by the brigands, of whom I stand in 
 great dread. I trust Tuesday will find you safe and 
 sound beside your excellent friend (Madame Bignami), 
 whom I should like to meet, since she is so devoted to 
 you. Return her all her affection in full. To be loved 
 is the perfect gift of this world, as well as the power of 
 relying on an honest heart in a person worthy of esteem. 
 
 " I miss you, and the more so because on better ac- 
 quaintance I admire you. I can tell you without fear 
 that I love you, for at my age love for one who deserves 
 love becomes a pure sentiment, for which I have no need 
 to blush. You have spoiled me, so that I shall find it 
 hard now to perceive merit in others. I have been 
 deeply disappointed in observing the author of the 
 
 301 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Republiques Italiennes grown less capable and more pre- 
 cise. He seems to have parted with some of his good 
 qualities in Paris. Weak-minded persons going into 
 that wretched country easily pick up French notions, 
 and become fascinated by French grimaces. He has 
 also assimilated some German ideas on ferfectibilite. 
 He is swayed not a little by the chimaeras of other people. 
 He is still here, and I see him daily. I shall give him your 
 message. He is a warm admirer of your genius, and if 
 he knew your other qualities, he would like you, for you 
 are good and sensitive. I do not regret having known 
 you, but I do regret that we did not inhabit the same 
 city. 
 
 " What you tell me of your craving to see your idol 
 of Italian independence surprises me. I myself only 
 imagine the new scheme * to be a ruse of Napoleon's for 
 his own ends. God grant yourself and others it may be 
 for the best. But it really matters nothing whether 
 Peter or Paul be master in Italy. . . . 
 
 " Your portrait is making good progress and is almost 
 completed. Your friend, Madame Bignami, will be 
 delighted to see it and possess it. I enjoin prudence for 
 you — you understand me ? — otherwise you will come 
 to utter grief. Keep calm, and do not allow too free a 
 rein to your fancy. 
 
 " We have had fine weather and a hard frost the last 
 two days. I am only too glad to sit alone of an evening, 
 for the Florentines bore me, and I love my books a 
 thousand times better than any gossip of theirs. I 
 lament your absence with my whole heart, and I regret 
 the events that have separated us. 
 
 " Take care of your health, and remember you have 
 a friend in Florence who loves you. Monsieur Fabre 
 has finished your picture, and sends you messages. . . . 
 Did you get, before leaving, my note and the copy of 
 Homer, which belonged once to Someone you admire ? " 
 
 * The erection of Italy into a kingdom under the vice-royalty of Eugene 
 de Beauharnais. 
 
 302 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 The letters of the Countess grow more affectionate 
 in tone, as the poet writes from time to time. " Do 
 not think I can forget you," she writes on December 10, 
 " for my friendship for you is based on your good qualities, 
 and I shall carry my affection for you to the grave. I 
 should like to live in the same town with you, in which 
 case you might consecrate to myself such hours as you 
 could spare from your friend Madame Bignami. . . . 
 
 " Some day you will be fortunate enough to gain a 
 sure Friend, ready to share in your inmost feelings. So 
 long as we are young, we want to play the butterfly, 
 but in mature years we long to give the heart and mind 
 full repose on the bosom of some Friend, on whom we 
 can rely. That is the only real boon the world can 
 grant. One grows weary of all women that are un- 
 worthy of esteem, because, when once desire is satisfied, 
 there remains nothing ; it is only the deep devotion 
 of the heart that survives and lasts. If inquisitive eyes 
 were to peep into this letter, how edified they would be 
 at the morality contained herein ! . . ." 
 
 " Florence, February 2, 18 14. 
 " My dear Ugo, ... I cannot imagine who it is 
 that finds amusement in waylaying our correspondence, 
 which can interest nobody but ourselves ! I observe 
 by your last letter that you are happier, which is as I 
 predicted ; nevertheless, you could not come on a visit 
 to Florence at this moment. Yesterday [Murat's] 
 Neapolitan troops left us, and the G[rand] D[uchess 
 Elise] is gone. The officials and the garrison remain. 
 We hear no news. God grant us the peace whereof we 
 stand in such need. As for myself, I advise you to put 
 some water in your wine, in a moral and not a material 
 sense, for you do not drink wine. It is useless to rack 
 yourself on behalf of others. Very few persons merit 
 the smallest sacrifice, and this is still more true of the 
 multitude at large. In the midst of a corrupt nation 
 one must be noted for loftiness of morals and high 
 
 3°3 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 culture. If you will but abandon yourself wholly to 
 literature, you will gain more fame thereby than by 
 conquering the world, particularly if you surrender 
 yourself entirely to the Muses and do not flit from one 
 subject to another, for I consider you change your 
 direction too often. Your mind is as fickle as your 
 heart. You pursue an evanescent glory. You waste 
 too much of your time over women. When study is 
 your first thought, you must not take love too seriously, 
 but must regard it merely as an evening's distraction 
 in moderation. Better still, you should cultivate an 
 attachment to some person that can share your tastes 
 and ideals, though it is a difficult task to find such an 
 one in Italy, where the women decline to share the 
 lover with his Muse, and do not care a doit for his 
 fame. . . ." 
 
 The break with Madame Bignami, the Milanese 
 €i Grace," was of course inevitable, and the poet at once 
 wrote of the matter to the Countess in Florence, who 
 had doubtless foreseen what was coming, and was not 
 in the least sorry to learn that Foscolo's susceptible and 
 fickle heart was once again free. Her letter on this 
 occasion contains much good advice but only a modicum 
 of genuine sympathy. 
 
 " I have received from Turin, my dear Ugo," 
 she writes on February 2, " within the last two or three 
 days your missing letters of last month. I believe you 
 really forget to post them ! Well, anyhow I have got 
 them, and have deciphered their contents with infinite 
 labour. I clearly perceive that you are enthralled by 
 your own imagination, and I pity you with all my heart. 
 Unhappily you have no remedy. All poets are the same. 
 Of course it is sad and tiresome to be deprived of the 
 society of a woman you love, but surely you must remem- 
 ber she belongs to another, who objects to your presence 
 in his house. So you must make up your mind to resign 
 her, and to limit your claims to those of mere friendship. 
 
 3°4 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 You surely have not forgotten that here in Florence 
 you were guilty of a score of intrigues ? If you had 
 been dominated by a grande passion, you would never 
 have become so greedy for fresh conquests. Only desire 
 had a share in them, for your flames have plainly shown 
 that it was men they wanted. . . . 
 
 " To hark back to your literary career. You must 
 start by putting your finances in order, and by trying 
 to realise the folly of flinging your money about without 
 rhyme or reason. You must become sensible (which 
 you are not), and you must take care of your health, for 
 it appears to me to be much shattered. It would have 
 made a good excuse for you to leave the army. How 
 funny you are about your honour ! Surely you must 
 realise there is sham honour and real honour, and that 
 to defend what is valueless is sheer folly. Your last 
 letter is full of nonsensical ideas. You want somebody 
 to keep you in the path of common-sense, from which 
 you so constantly stray. You require some talks at my 
 round table. You confide in my common-sense, my 
 sole quality of worth, for I do not pretend to be a genius. 
 I only pride myself, and rightly so, on my good sense 
 and good judgment. I have been making trial of these 
 two qualities the last few days, when everybody was in 
 wild alarm, and I caused my friends annoyance by my 
 placid attitude, because I saw things as they really were. 
 You know how cowardly the Florentines are. 
 
 " Take care of your health, and we shall yet find the 
 opportunity to talk, dispute, and smile over human folly. 
 You have not yet attained the age, when the world appears 
 only as a magic-lantern, bright or sombre according to 
 the objects presented. 
 
 " Always count on my friendship and my warm 
 interest. Monsieur Fabre exhorts you to grow reason- 
 able. I scold him too sometimes. Love me ever, and 
 tell me all possible news of yourself." 
 
 In the following letter Madame d' Albany returns 
 
 U 305 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 to the same subject, and also lectures Foscolo on what 
 she considers his Quixotic attachment to the vague 
 growing movement on behalf of Italian unity, an alleged 
 weakness with which she had already twitted him in a 
 previous epistle. 
 
 " . . . I could wish the present icy weather would 
 cool your volcanic temperament, which seems to have 
 been in constant eruption ever since you quitted my 
 round table ! You want a steadying hand to keep you 
 in the path of common-sense, and also somebody to make 
 you see things as they really are, and not as they loom 
 before your poet's eye. 
 
 " I believe you are sincerely attached to your friend, 
 Madame Bignami, but your late behaviour here has 
 proved you can have had no real love for her. When 
 one is truly in love, all women seem alike, except the 
 one adored object. It is true, however, that men have a 
 different standard of love from ours. Your imagination finds 
 incessant need of occupation, no matter for what purpose. 
 
 " You will do wisely to renounce the Other Dame 
 (Italy), believe me. She deserves nothing. Her sons 
 are too corrupt and feeble to fly on their own wings. 
 One would like to see their strength restored ; but the 
 doctor appointed (the Viceroy Prince Eugene) is not 
 wise enough to inspire confidence. 
 
 " For myself, I lead my usual existence. I sit at the 
 window, and watch the scenes of the magic-lantern pass 
 and find them sufficiently amusing. 
 
 " Guard your health. Come back here, when you 
 can, sound in body and mind, ready for work, for fame, 
 and for the true enjoyment of life. It is wiser to produce 
 good books than to seek to conquer the world. 
 
 " Keep your affection for me, and rely on mine in 
 return for it. Monsieur Fabre salutes you. He is 
 solely occupied with his Dame, Painting ! " 
 
 In a subsequent letter, of May 19, the Countess 
 continues to warn Foscolo against wrecking his future 
 306 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 prospects by joining too ardently in the new-born move- 
 ment for Italian independence and unity, then attracting 
 so many adherents in Milan. 
 
 " . . . Believe me, neither the world at large nor 
 individual men are worth the trouble of embroiling 
 yourself on their behalf. You are sure to emerge from 
 the coming struggle injured both in mind and body. 
 Your beloved fellow-countrymen [in Milan] do not 
 know what they want, any more than they do elsewhere 
 in Italy. They consider the whole world ought to exert 
 itself on their behalf, yet they would not sacrifice a life, 
 or even a penny-piece, to obtain any government whatso- 
 ever. Besides, they are, and always will be, the prey 
 of any man who cares to hold them by a force majeure. 
 
 " It is the common fate of all lands that have become 
 corrupt and selfish, where the citizens are the slaves of 
 idle pleasures or of monkish bigotry, and where education 
 has been neglected. If our modern Attila [Napoleon] 
 had been able to tyrannise over Europe for another 
 decade, possibly Italy might have acquired a little 
 energy, but at present she is fallen into a condition of 
 apathy, and her inhabitants have sunk afresh into the 
 worship of the Madonna, equally of Heaven and of earth." 
 
 The mention of " the modern Attila " in this letter 
 reminds us of the Countess 5 undying antipathy to Napo- 
 leon, whose recent fall and removal to Elba, unpleasantly 
 near the Tuscan coast, are at various times commented 
 on with a bitterness which is extended to Sismondi and 
 to any of her friends who had shown sympathy with the 
 Emperor in his downfall. 
 
 On May 20, the Countess writes of Napoleon's arrival 
 in Elba. 
 
 " . . . King of his island, he has found a rascally 
 priest there, who is ready to thank Heaven for sending 
 so great a man to so insignificant a spot. He is going 
 to build a palace, a school, a theatre, a poor-house and 
 
 307 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 a hospital. Elba will become the Fortunate Island ! 
 How I wish another world had been favoured with his 
 presence. He admits himself that his career is not yet 
 closed. Tuscany is quiet, and only demands its Grand- 
 Duke Ferdinand's return. 
 
 " . . . You will accuse me of contradicting my own 
 remarks, but I cannot think of the expression 6 sublime ' 
 in connection with the Sovereign of the Isle of Elba. 
 I do certainly allow him to be one of those gigantic 
 beings, a veritable Cyclops, who has spread consternation 
 throughout the world. But I hold him, as I have always 
 declared, merely an adventurer. All his great schemes 
 had no solid foundation, and when once united resistance 
 was made to them, they have crumbled to nothing 
 The Allies, thanks to his wife the Empress Marie-Louise, 
 have been too lenient, and have inflicted him upon us 
 as a dangerous neighbour. Since his arrival at Elba, 
 he has already shown himself more vain than high- 
 minded. He stayed twelve hours on board ship, so as 
 to arrange the ceremonial of his entry and reception, 
 and now he has set up a court with two chamberlains 
 and four pages. It is a paltry Mock Majesty, and his 
 subjects are even more contemptible than he. The 
 French will for many a day to come be lamenting their 
 quarter of a century of so-called glory, which I call infamy. 
 They made a resolution to obtain liberty, so they got 
 tyrants to decimate France. To escape anarchy they 
 then threw themselves into the clutches of a monstre like 
 Napoleon, and now the Allies have had to save them from 
 the consequences of their own folly, after they have made the 
 name of Frenchman loathed for generations to come. 
 
 " They will be weeping over their national honour, 
 stained by their own fault. Monsieur Sismondi, who 
 calls himself French merely because he writes and speaks 
 that language,* is one of those creatures who would have 
 welcomed a continuation of this tyranny. . . . 
 
 * Ducrest, vol. i. p. 95. " M. Sismondi retained the Genevese accent 
 in all its purity ! 99 
 
 308 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 " At present we are having a course of Church cere- 
 monies and chantings of the Te Deum here, and truly 
 we are justified in returning thanks in song to Providence 
 for having delivered us from an abominable Monstre, 
 who is making absurd changes in his island. I was never 
 mistaken in my estimate of him. Do you recollect our 
 arguments, in which, solely out of politeness, you would 
 not tell me flatly I was talking nonsense ? Now time 
 has proved me in the right. I pity the King of France, 
 his successor, who finds a kingdom in ruins, an empty 
 treasury and a nation utterly demoralised. 
 
 "... It seems that the returning monarchs, with 
 the exception of Louis XVIII., are making great mistakes. 
 The Monstre, whose island I can see from my window 
 here in Leghorn, has put us all back a century, for fear 
 of imitating his example. For the c revenants ' have 
 not assimilated a single new idea for the last fifteen years. 
 They have been fast asleep, and have now awakened 
 at the exact point where slumber overtook them. I 
 really think the world is composed of slaves from its 
 endurance of past and present rulers." 
 
 "Florence, September 2nd, 1814. 
 
 " My dear Ugo, — The 20 francesconi have arrived 
 safe. After paying out 18, I spent the remainder yester- 
 day. Since you have sent no remittance to your servant, 
 I shall continue to pay the customary zecchino a month 
 to his mother. . . . 
 
 " Excuse me, but the Italians in general are poor- 
 spirited, know nothing of glory, and are incapable of 
 making the smallest sacrifice. The country, too, is very 
 rich, nor has it suffered sufficiently to make its citizens 
 despair. Basta la dessus. . . . The picture you draw 
 of your own city of Milan is somewhat similar to that 
 of Florence. I believe the people have gained, and the 
 returning royalties have lost, fifteen years, so the two 
 are bound to fall out and disagree. The priests expect 
 to regain their old power, and are jeered at, yet the 
 
 3°9 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Government upholds them. When our Grand-Duke 
 condescends to return to his capital, many at present 
 in command and under priestly influence will be dis- 
 missed. As to myself, I laugh at it all . . . for the 
 world is amusing enough to one like myself who has no 
 need of it, and it now affords me a constant comedy, 
 particularly since the principal actor in the late tragedy 
 is shut up in an island. 
 
 " Tell me of your health, and of your intentions. 
 What about your return to Florence ? At what are 
 you working now ? 
 
 " Monsieur Fabre salutes you. He is engaged upon 
 a splendid picture for my party, The Death of Narcissus* 
 in a lovely landscape. Your Belle (la Nencini) has just 
 returned from Naples, where her friend, the General, 
 has been nominated governor. There is a Tuscan officer 
 here of the Anglo-Sicilian army, as enthusiastic as yourself 
 for the glory of Italy, now engaged in courting the Belle, 
 who happens to be an old flame of his. I often wished 
 you two could find yourselves together in my salon, 
 for the four walls could never have held the pair of 
 you ! . . ." 
 
 "Florence, January 7, 1815. 
 " I thank you, my dear Ugo, for your good wishes for 
 the New Year just begun. I trust it will not draw to a 
 close without your presence here. I flatter myself that 
 when the big-wigs have finished (at the Congress of 
 Vienna) you will contrive to take up a more reasonable 
 and safer attitude in politics. I wish you could have 
 admired the Graces the other evening at my party, 
 Graces very different from those you are wont to sing ! 
 It was a collection of virginal charms with beautiful 
 features, rivalling the Muse of Canova. Such exquisite 
 figures, plump but not too fat. It is many a long day 
 since I have seen so many pretty faces. Your beauty 
 of the Porta San Gallo (La Nencini), would sink even in 
 your eyes by comparison. Where are you, my dear 
 
 * This picture was bequeathed by the Countess to the Florentine gallery. 
 
 310 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 Ugo ? Why are you not here ? Your poetic fire would 
 be rekindled and would burn up all your melancholy. 
 I deplore your absence every day for myself, and on 
 Saturdays (when I have my parties) . for your own 
 sake. . . ." 
 
 The next letter, dated August 13, 181 5, and directed 
 " a Monsieur Ugo Foscolo dans File d'Ouffenau, Canton 
 de Schwyz, pres Zurich," expresses the writer's displeasure 
 at Foscolo's refusal to take the required oath of allegiance 
 to the newly-established Austrian Government in Milan, 
 and at his action in voluntarily exchanging Italian for 
 Swiss soil, and thereby becoming in fact the first 
 popular patriot of the new-born movement towards 
 Italian unity, known later as the " Risorgimento." It 
 is hard to understand the extreme degree of oifence this 
 particular letter has always given to Italian writers and 
 critics of this period. Its tone, though satirical, is far 
 from unkind ; and indeed, the Countess was certainly 
 entitled to give Foscolo a private piece of well-intentioned 
 advice as a friend and well-wisher so many years older 
 than himself. That her remarks proved unpalatable 
 to the conceited poet can easily be understood ; but for 
 critics to argue in these days from the contents of a 
 private letter that the Countess was opposed on principle 
 to the very notion of national independence, and was 
 deliberately in favour of the ancien regime in Italy is 
 utterly at variance with the evidence we possess of her 
 acknowledged and open sympathy with the various 
 liberal ideas that were then permeating Italian thought. 
 It is at least certain, for example, that the patriotic 
 Abbe Luigi di Breme regarded Madame d' Albany as 
 one of those who were in accord with the new national 
 aspirations, however cynical or pessimistic may have 
 been her views as to the ultimate success of the move- 
 ment. Rightly or wrongly, the Countess looked upon 
 Foscolo's refusal to settle quietly in Italy as a mistake 
 due to false sentiment, and she says so plainly ; but to 
 
 3 11 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 interpret her remarks as an open expression of hostility 
 to the cause of Italian unity is both absurd and unfair. 
 
 M My dear Sir, — I have received your letter of the 
 4th. I was told you had been in Paris, and had thence 
 crossed over to England. If you had consented to behave 
 like everybody else, you would have stayed on quietly 
 at Milan, and none would have concerned themselves 
 more about you than others ; and I think this the more 
 likely since a gentleman from Milan tells me that the 
 taking of the oath [of allegiance] was optional. So it 
 has seemed good to you to start of! into the mountains ; 
 and if you find such a course amusing, well and good. 
 As to your lately published Discourses on the Servitude 
 of Italy, you have not taught the people anything new, 
 for there was nothing left to be said on the subject. It 
 was the cannons that spoke and acted. For my own 
 part, I count on a tranquil life, for none will compel 
 me to change my abode, unless I choose to do so ; towards 
 all other matters I feel indifferent. And I advise every- 
 body to think of settling down with the least possible 
 discomfort, and this course I recommend to yourself 
 in particular. If in the midst of your Swiss crags you 
 read the newspapers, you will have learnt how Monsieur 
 Sismondi has written on behalf of Him who has fallen 
 so ignobly,* but the behaviour of his brother-in-law 
 (Murat) amazes me no less. Only fools or schemers 
 ally themselves with these little-great men. I am told 
 you sympathise with them, but then I am also told you 
 are changeable, like so many others, despite all your 
 efforts to attain originality. I cannot conceal the fact 
 that I disapprove of your conduct. Perhaps if I heard 
 your own side of the story, you would make me alter my 
 opinion. In any case, accept the assurance of interest 
 both from myself and the Painter. I did receive your 
 former letter, but could not reply at once, for the very 
 good reason that the spies were active ; and as you had 
 
 * Napoleon L 
 
 312 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 disappeared so suddenly, I thought it more prudent 
 to hold no communication with you. Keep well. 
 Enjoy the chilly scenery of Switzerland, and feed your 
 imagination thereon, for it will help you to make good 
 poetry, though it will never bring you happiness. But 
 then happiness itself is relative, and its definition varies 
 with the individual. 
 
 " Your friend, poor Mr. Rose, has had a stroke at 
 Verona, and is paralyzed on one side. He is now at the 
 baths of Abano with some Venetian woman, whom he 
 has dragged with him all over Italy. Apparently this 
 sort of life was too much for him. He was expecting to 
 travel with you to England, when I told him of your 
 disappearance. Farewell, send me your news. I am 
 glad to hear necessity has taught you to shave yourself, 
 there are so many little luxuries in this life one can well 
 dispense with." 
 
 "January i6th y 1816. 
 " I have received, my dear Ugo, your letter of Decem- 
 ber 21 st. I am sorry I have annoyed you by telling 
 you what I thought of your retirement to Switzerland. 
 But since it suits you and you consider the step necessary, 
 soit un fou en sait -plus chez sot que des sages chez les autres. 
 Your imagination is satisfied, and it ought to be cooled 
 by the prospect of all the snow that covers your present 
 abode. As a native of Zante, you must have excellent 
 reasons for electing to dwell in such a place. By the bye, 
 your own islands have become free, and are now under 
 British protection. I congratulate you, for you can 
 now go and play at liberty there ! But I fear you crave 
 for something very different. You have lived too long 
 amongst a corrupt and enslaved people to feel satisfied 
 with the severe rule of Liberty. You adore society ; 
 you love to shine in it ; to shake a well-formed leg in it ; 
 to be a social butterfly ; to read aloud and to win praise 
 for your own works of genius. At Zante I expect you 
 would find nothing of that kind, and no social stage big 
 enough for your needs. So, my dear Ugo, you must 
 
 3 J 3 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 rest content with our despotism here, and enjoy existence 
 under it. This world is too decadent to deserve real 
 liberty, and this is especially true of Italy. Perhaps 
 the new uprising generation may live to realise our 
 dreams. . . 
 
 " Florence, March 22, 1816. 
 
 " My dear Ugo, — I have received your letter of the 
 1 2th of this month with particular pleasure, as I had 
 heard a report of your having blown out your brains. 
 Not that I gave it credit, for I feel pretty sure you are 
 not sufficiently dissatisfied with life to mean to part with 
 it. To threaten and to act is not the same thing, and 
 your hero Ortis killing himself affords no reason for 
 your doing the same ; indeed, I have felt quite easy 
 about you. You enjoy good living and the amenities 
 of life far too well to renounce life itself. I scarcely 
 thought you would feel happy among the snows of 
 Switzerland, but your imagination was assuaged by the 
 thought that you were a genuine victim in the cause of 
 liberty. I believe, however, you are perfectly free to 
 live quietly at Milan with your books and your papers. 
 I am impatiently awaiting your present [volumes of the 
 Ortis and the Ipercalissi], that you are sending me, for 
 which I thank you in advance. Since you have not yet 
 visited England, you are quite sure to admire the country, 
 although the English have somewhat declined of late 
 from their high standard of the past. You will meet 
 with a poet of whom the English are very proud, Lord 
 Byron. He has talent, but is said to be un mechant 
 homme. I hope you will write to tell me your impressions 
 of a country, which is still the first in Europe, and in 
 which all can live honourably without fear of exile or 
 tyranny. There man has every blessing ; he can write 
 and think as he pleases. 
 
 " I do not wish to deprive you of your portrait, and 
 if you want it for purposes of engraving, I am ready to 
 remain content with an impression. So I shall have it 
 packed and sent to you. Madame Magiotti has had it 
 
 3 J 4 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 copied with your permission. The poor creature is 
 always ailing, and that chills her bureau d'esprit. Do 
 you know Botta's poem, ' The Capture of Veii by the 
 Romans ' ? The subject seems dull enough to me. 
 
 " Tell me what you are doing. Do not forget to send 
 me news of your journey the moment you reach London, 
 as I want to charge you with some small commissions 
 there. 
 
 " Do you know that Sismondi, who has added three 
 more volumes to his History of the Italian Republics, 
 is compromised in the affair of Napoleon's return, and 
 that he has sung his praises in face of all Europe ? He is 
 at Pescia, still writing. I have told him plainly what 
 I think of his behaviour. He intends to come to Florence 
 to see Madame de Stael, who means to remain here the 
 whole of May for the sake of a friend (Monsieur Rocca), 
 who is in the last stage of consumption. Her conversa- 
 tion amuses me, and would delight you. But Florence 
 is not a wide enough field for her, for people cannot 
 discuss matters here ; they only grow rude in argument. 
 Monsieur Fabre sends his compliments, and I beg you 
 never to forget my warm and life-long interest in you. 
 I must warn you that pictures imported into England 
 have to pay a duty of a louis for each square foot of 
 canvas." 
 
 The casual and disparaging allusion to Quirina Mocenni- 
 Magiotti that occurs in this letter just quoted is appa- 
 rently the sole mention to Foscolo of the child of her 
 beloved Teresa Mocenni, that the Countess of Albany 
 makes in this correspondence. And yet she cannot 
 have been unaware of the little tragi-comedy of those 
 very years 1 812-18 13, when the poet was residing in 
 Florence and won the heart for ever of Quirina, his 
 " Donna Gentile," the only member of that numerous 
 band of his Graces, who could aspire to any real worth 
 of heart or mind. For, whilst Foscolo was bent on obtain- 
 ing all the advantage and prestige that was possible 
 
 3 J 5 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 out of his close friendship with the Countess of Albany, 
 he was also carrying on an amorous intrigue (concurrently 
 with half a dozen others) with the obscure, unhappy, 
 and misunderstood wife of the semi-imbecile Ferdinando 
 Magiotti, to whom, as she herself admits in one of her 
 letters, she was bound by her hand and by no other tie. 
 At the time of Foscolo's arrival in Florence, in the full 
 flush of his literary success and in the full beauty of his 
 vigorous manhood, Quirina Mocenni-Magiotti was thirty- 
 three years old, and it was at this somewhat mature age 
 that the cultured daughter of the passionate Teresa 
 Mocenni met at last with the beau-ideal of her wistful 
 dreams in the handsome but unscrupulous author of 
 the Sepolcri and the Letters of Jacopo Ortis. Before 
 their formal introduction to one another in the house 
 of Leopoldo Cicognara, the sculptor, Ugo and Quirina 
 had already met by chance and fallen into mutual love, 
 without need of speech, as they passed one day in the busy 
 Via Por Santa Maria, that leads from the New Market 
 to the historic Ponte Vecchio, at which spot Foscolo 
 made an immediate and lasting conquest not only of 
 poor Quirina's heart, but also, as it were, of her very 
 reason. Madame Magiotti, who was then living in the 
 narrow Via dei Servi, between the Duomo and the 
 Piazza dell' Annunziata, soon gave way before her ardent 
 lover's fierce protestations of undying devotion ; she 
 admitted him to every meeting he demanded ; she 
 nursed him tenderly during a dangerous fever in the 
 Villa dell' Ombrellino, at Bellosguardo ; and later she 
 put her slender purse at his disposal, whereof in after 
 years her lover shamelessly availed himself ; a circum- 
 stance which alone would make such a personage as Ugo 
 Foscolo contemptible and repulsive in the eyes of most 
 people, though it does not seem to have detracted much 
 from the honour wherein he is still held by his own 
 countrymen. But can we wonder at Madame d' Albany's 
 sharp reminder to her favourite Ugo of the difference 
 between false and real honour, when the patriot-poet 
 316 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 prated theatrically to her in his letters of that particular 
 virtue ? Louise of Albany with her long experience 
 of men was able to distinguish the good from the bad 
 in Foscolo, and to deal with him accordingly ; but the 
 poor, infatuated, fascinated Quirina remained head over 
 ears in love both with the disreputable man and with 
 his undisputed genius ; blindly condoning his extravagant 
 life for which she stinted herself to pay, his constant 
 gallantries, and even his abominable acts of treachery. 
 She only saw his fame through a golden haze of devoted 
 attachment. Even in Florence she must have known 
 his professed love for herself was being extended to 
 various other women, to whom he wrote amorous notes 
 in terms of undying affection, such as the following 
 specimens addressed to herself. 
 
 " Signora mia ! This evening I shall be with you. 
 If you do not go to the theatre, I shall remain a long 
 time with you. If you do go to the theatre, I shall 
 quickly depart. If you refuse to open your door to me, 
 I shall kiss the very doorstep amidst my tears." 
 
 Or this sprightly message, written apparently during 
 his long illness in the villa at Bellosguardo. 
 
 " Buon giorno, Quirina, Buon giorno ! Pray to God 
 for me, for this bitter weather indeed affects my health, 
 and freezes my soul and body, so that I shall soon have 
 my very heart frozen too, unless I can have yourself 
 ever beside me to keep it warm. . . ." 
 
 Truly, real love such as Quirina's is blind, or else is 
 purposely kept blindfolded ! 
 
 Deprived of her adored Ugo's presence in the summer 
 of 1 813, Quirina found her sole remaining pleasure in 
 dwelling on the memory and genius of her absent lover, 
 though she must have been aware that Foscolo was 
 busying himself in Milan with the conquest of a fresh 
 Grace, in the person of Maddalena Bignami. But some- 
 how Quirina's adoration, or infatuation, was proof 
 
 3*7 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 against all evil reports, and even against the clearest 
 evidence of her lover's worthlessness and infidelity ; 
 she was not even sickened or disheartened by a horrible 
 piece of vulgar vengeance, which he wreaked on one of 
 her own sex at Zurich, in the days of his voluntary Swiss 
 exile. For it seems that in this town Foscolo, according 
 to his immutable custom, must needs go philandering 
 after a certain Madame Pestalozzi, wife of a doctor in 
 Zurich, and because this silly woman preferred the 
 blandishments of an elderly Italian tutor to his own, 
 Foscolo — such infamy seems almost incredible — in his 
 jealousy and wounded pride actually informed the 
 husband of his wife's intrigue, and then triumphantly 
 told the whole story of this escapade to the unhappy 
 " Donna Gentile " in Florence ! * Yet in spite of this 
 brutality of conduct to another ; in spite of his cold- 
 blooded indifference to herself ; in spite of the fact that 
 he was a borrower from women and never repaid his 
 debts, Quirina never once flinched in her devotion 
 towards one who was, notwithstanding so many acknow- 
 ledged blemishes, still first of poets and first of Italian 
 patriots in her eyes ; she saw the clay feet indeed of her 
 idol, but this discovery, however painful, seems to have 
 increased rather than diminished the original ardour, 
 wherewith she had chosen to worship him ever since 
 their first meeting in the streets of Florence. Her steady 
 attachment to his genius for so many years, and her con- 
 tinued exertions to keep his name before the public have 
 undoubtedly operated to win eventually for Foscolo 
 that deathless fame which the Countess of Albany was 
 always vainly urging him to attain ; and it is largely 
 due to Quirina's unreasoning, unselfish love that this 
 man of genius, the story of whose career must ever arouse 
 our contempt and abhorrence, was finally honoured 
 with a place of burial in the nave of Santa Croce, the 
 Pantheon of Florence, close to the tombs of Alfieri and 
 Machiavelli. Quirina herself, who worshipped so stub- 
 
 * Quirina calls Foscolo's letter containing this admission una letteraccia, 
 
 318 
 
Ugo Foscolo 
 
 bornly and so blindly, survived her lover for twenty 
 years, dying in July 1847, and being buried in the Green 
 Cloister of Santa Maria Novella, the great Dominican 
 church in Florence, where her simple monument can 
 be seen to-day. She died in a cold sunless old house 
 in the neighbouring gloomy Via Melarancio, whereon 
 pious hands have placed a marble tablet to one whose 
 memory is far more worthy to be perpetuated than that 
 of the erratic and contemptible genius, whose bones 
 were specially brought from their humble resting-place 
 in Chiswick churchyard to be interred with civic honours 
 within the hallowed precincts of Santa Croce. 
 
 With regard to this particular allusion to the poor 
 " Donna Gentile," in Madame d'Albany's last quoted 
 letter, the Countess (to whom Foscolo already owed 
 fifty louis besides other trifling sums) had been specially 
 asked by the poet, who was an adept in tactful dissimula- 
 tion, to allow poor love-sick Quirina to obtain a copy 
 (of course at her own expense) of his portrait, which 
 Fabre had painted in the autumn of 1812. By various 
 cunning ruses, he had contrived to extort this favour 
 on behalf of Madame Magiotti from the not over-willing 
 Countess, and hence the brief, half-pitying, half-con- 
 temptuous remark in the letter quoted. In any case, 
 the desired end was attained ; so that the humble 
 Quirina, a nominal friend although a conscious or un- 
 conscious rival of the high-born Countess of Albany, 
 secured her coveted copy of the picture. Madame 
 d' Albany's slighting allusion to the daughter of her 
 beloved Teresa is not pleasant to read, yet somehow 
 one can scarcely marvel at her mingled pity and contempt 
 when we read the half-crazy rhapsody of the love-lorn 
 " Donna Gentile " over the picture of her absent and 
 neglectful paramour. 
 
 6 * I have got it ! I have got it ! I hold thee ! I 
 see thee ! And I seem to see thee as I did that very 
 day we met between the Ponte Vecchio and the Mercato 
 
 319 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Nuovo, and thou didst make my heart beat so violently ! 
 I did not know thee then, but my heart spoke to me 
 before my head, and even now those same thrills make 
 my pen tremble so that I can barely guide my fingers. 
 Yearning, hope, fear, sorrow, all overwhelm me at once, 
 whilst thy haughty countenance speaks to me of a separa- 
 tion from thee, a prolonged and perhaps an eternal one. 
 Yet here in front of me stands thy counterfeit as real 
 as life ; and, believe me, I do not dare approach my lips 
 near it, for there is more soul than body upon that canvas, 
 and to kiss it would seem a profanation to me." 
 
 Certainly the " maternal interest " (as Quirina herself 
 ironically calls the Countess' relations with Foscolo) 
 was infinitely to be preferred to this unwholesome 
 vapouring for an unworthy and fickle adventurer. 
 Certainly from every point of view the " Donna Amata " 
 of Vittorio Alfieri had every cause for self-congratulation, 
 seeing the miserable and ignominious treatment of the 
 love-sick " Donna Gentile " of Ugo Foscolo. 
 
 320 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 LAST DAYS OF THE STUART QUEEN 
 
 Quoique Reine, elle est Femme. II faut que Part de plaire, 
 Pretant a ses vertus un aspect moins austere, 
 
 La dedommage largement 
 Des superbes ennuis que le trone procure ! 
 
 Chevalier de Sobiratz 
 
 The last twelve years spent in Casa Alfieri were essentially 
 years of peace, almost of stagnation. Every day the 
 Countess led the same existence, walking each morning 
 clad in an old-fashioned cloak and bonnet along the 
 Lung' Arno towards the wooded lawns of the Cascine, 
 dining on her return, spending the hours of the afternoon 
 in reading and writing (and how indefatigable a corres- 
 pondent she had grown it is easy to realise from the 
 extant masses of letters addressed to her from every kind 
 of person and from all quarters !) and passing her 
 evenings in the reception of the same company, seated in 
 the same chair, in the same room. Her reputation for 
 past romance as the widow of Prince Charles Stuart and 
 the adored lady of the great Alfieri, and the vogue of her 
 salon naturally invested the rapidly ageing woman with 
 a deep amount of interest or curiosity on the part of those 
 persons in a humbler station who visited Florence, 
 tourists as we should call them in these days. The 
 short sturdy figure of the " Reine d'Angleterre " plodding, 
 rain or shine, along the banks of the Arno at the same 
 hour and in the same queer garments, became a familiar 
 and a popular spectacle for such persons, who constantly 
 watched for a glimpse of this little old lady who pre- 
 served scarcely a trace of her once vaunted beauty and 
 attraction. She was openly saluted with respect by the 
 
 x 321 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 officials or loungers of the city, but certain irreverent 
 persons were wont secretly to make game of this living 
 relic of a bygone age and fashion. A cruel epigram of 
 the period expresses this idea, in poking fun at the gaping 
 strangers, who each morning waited, probably at the 
 instigation of a guide, to stare at the former Queen 
 of Hearts taking her daily exercise. 
 
 Lung Am* ammiravano i fuorestieri 
 Una reliquia del Con? Alfieri ; 
 Si crede il fodero del pugnale 
 Secondo i fisict e Vorinale ! 
 
 (On the banks of our Arno the strangers regard 
 
 A relic of Count Alfieri the bard ; 
 
 But so old and so altered the lady appears, 
 
 Her framework alone has survived the past years ! *) 
 
 The physical condition of the Countess seemed indeed 
 to defy the passing years, in strong contrast with her 
 younger companion Fabre, who had long been a martyr 
 to chronic gout, throughout which he was nursed by her 
 with great patience and devotion, as the unkindly 
 d' Azeglio himself admits,when in after years he occasionally 
 visited at Casa Alfieri " in grateful remembrance of the 
 sweetmeats given in his boyhood." f Already soured 
 and depressed by political adversities, the Countess grew 
 more and more cynical and self-centred as time advanced, 
 and took away one by one the surviving friends of herself 
 and Alfieri. A few weeks before Waterloo, the death of 
 the virtuous and learned Abbe di Caluso broke the chief 
 link of her old life with Alfieri, for Caluso was the last 
 surviving intimate friend of the poet, and had spent 
 much time with the Countess after his death. With him 
 perished her oldest and most valued correspondent, and 
 though many of their letters still remain, yet they were 
 by the Abbe's expressed wish so mutilated or defaced, 
 that a large part of their contents, and that probably the 
 
 # E. Del Cerro, V . Alfieri e la ComUssa d' Albany. 
 t J. Miei Ricordi, vol. i. p. 85. 
 
 322 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 most interesting part, is undecipherable to-day.* On 
 Caluso's death, the Dante ring, that had been bequeathed 
 him by Alfieri was doubtless returned to the Countess, 
 for it has eventually found its way into the Musee Fabre 
 at Montpellier. There can be no reason to suppose, as an 
 Italian writer has hinted, that the Abbe never received 
 this historic trinket, and that Madame d' Albany with- 
 held it in order to bestow it on Fabre, for it would pro- 
 bably be restored, either freely or on request, after the 
 Abbe's death to the Countess, for whom alone of all living 
 persons would it possess any special significance ; whilst 
 after her death it naturally and very properly devolved with 
 other precious relics of Alfieri upon the French painter. 
 
 A year or so later the Countess lost another friend of a 
 humbler kind, but one whose loss was keenly felt both by 
 herself and by her companion. This was Dr. Edouard 
 Fabre, who has often been mentioned in the course of 
 this book, and whose death in the summer of 1816 
 Sismondi deplores. 
 
 " The death of Doctor Fabre," he writes, " will un- 
 doubtedly have caused you grief, Madame, if only for 
 the sorrow it will have brought to your friend. Up till 
 now he has had the good fortune to possess a near rela- 
 tion in a foreign land. It was for him like standing on a 
 plot of French soil, for in the midst of Italians he had a 
 man sharing his views, his prejudices, and recalling all 
 the scenes of his infancy. So long as his brother survived, 
 he scarcely inhabited an alien land." f 
 
 A curious little side-light into the daily existence of 
 this lonely pair — if any pair of congenial persons can in 
 reality be accounted lonely ! — appears in a scarce and 
 forgotten little French book of memoirs, the Souvenirs 
 de Soixante Jnnees, of Etienne de Lecluze. The passage 
 is worth quoting as presenting us with a clear picture of 
 
 * G. Mazzatinti, Le Carte Alfieriane. (Giornale Storico, vol. iii. p. 30.) 
 t Lettres Inedites de Sismondi, p. 290. Madame Fabre, the mother, had 
 already died in 1809. 
 
 3 2 3 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 the grey calm evening of life, which was now the portion 
 of the Countess and also of the invalid painter, still 
 absorbed in their mutual worship of Alfieri and still 
 debating over the destination of the precious contents of 
 Casa Alfieri, after the death of the mistress of the house and 
 the death also (which could not be very far distant) of 
 Fabre himself, who was seemingly in a deplorable state 
 of ill-health. For some time past, the Countess had 
 surrendered to Fabre's wish to bestow the whole of these 
 valuable relics on the town of Montpellier, and though 
 she had originally thought of giving them either to Asti, 
 to Florence, to Turin or to Milan, she had ultimately ac- 
 cepted Fabre's plan, whereby the three libraries of herself, 
 of Alfieri and of Fabre, together with the valuable collec- 
 tions of paintings and engravings of the latter, might for 
 ever be kept intact in one place. This decision does not 
 seem very unnatural when all the attendant circum- 
 stances are taken into consideration, although to this 
 day Italian scholars profess to feel sore and aggrieved 
 at the transfer of so many relics of the great Italian poet 
 to a French provincial town. The following little account 
 throws some light on this point, in addition to supplying 
 us with a pathetic sketch of the aged Countess and her 
 invalid friend. 
 
 " When Etienne saw Fabre at Florence, the latter was 
 suffering cruelly from the gout, r and every day the Countess 
 of Albany was wont to spend three or four hours of the 
 morning with him. Fabre owned a valuable collection 
 of paintings formed by himself, also a great part of the 
 library of Alfieri, which the poet had bequeathed to 
 him.* A friendship of long duration had existed be- 
 tween these three persons during Alfieri's lifetime ; and 
 after his death, this tie, becoming simplified, gave greater 
 force to the regard between the two survivors. 
 
 "When Etienne made the acquaintance of this pair, 
 Alfieri had been dead more than thirteen years, and 
 
 * This is evidently a mistake on the narrator's part, 
 
 3 2 4 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 Fabre was nearly sixty, whilst the Countess of Albany 
 had reached the age wherein the change of features in 
 women leaves not a vestige of the beauty or charm of 
 youth. Clever and especially endowed with that ease of 
 manner which only belongs to the great world, she then 
 gave one the impression of wishing to attract by the 
 goodness of her disposition rather than by her shining 
 mental gifts. 
 
 " When the state of the gouty artist so permitted, he 
 supped at table, after which Madame d' Albany and 
 Etienne usually passed into the library, full of volumes 
 that had once belonged to Alfleri. Etienne eagerly set to 
 examining them, and the Countess lost no opportunity 
 of fingering them herself and remarking upon their beauty. 
 Those volumes of the writings of the great poet, which 
 she had herself edited and bound, seemed the objects of 
 a species of worship to her. . . 
 
 " The real interest that Etienne displayed in visiting 
 this library, precious in itself and yet more precious in its 
 memories of its former owner, seemed to touch the 
 Countess, so that one day, whilst examining these books, 
 she said to him, 6 I should very much like you to carry 
 away a memento of our great poet.' Then taking two 
 volumes from the shelves, she went with Etienne to 
 Fabre's room, where the artist was sitting in a great arm- 
 chair by his bedside. 6 I think you will approve of my 
 intention,' she remarked. 6 Here are two works of our 
 Alfieri's in duplicate. Will you make a present of this set 
 to Etienne ? He will be very grateful to you, I am sure.' 
 Fabre then examined the two volumes, read their titles 
 and returned them with a smile to Madame d' Albany, 
 who placed them in Etienne's hands. 
 
 " This little action was not perhaps wholly disinterested. 
 In fact, some days later, Fabre, feeling better, himself 
 showed all his pictures to Etienne, and in the Countess' 
 presence observed to him : c Having no relations, my 
 intention is to devise this valuable collection to my native 
 town of Montpellier.' Madame d' Albany gave a sign 
 
 3 2 5 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 of approval, and both of them begged Etienne to make 
 known this important bequest by means of the Journal 
 des Debats." * 
 
 Another, but a less pleasing glimpse of the Countess is 
 afforded us by Lady Morgan, who in imitation of Madame 
 de Stael and great ladies such as the Duchess of Devon- 
 shire, was wont to speak openly of Madame d' Albany as 
 " her dear Queen." The following anecdote certainly 
 does not present us with a very flattering account of her 
 reputation for natural kindliness, but it is interesting 
 nevertheless as proving to us the exclusive attitude com- 
 bined with occasional outbursts of familiarity which 
 formed the usual pose assumed by the royal widow 
 of Charles Stuart. 
 
 " It happened that my countryman, Mr. Moore 
 (Thomas Moore the poet); my husband, and myself were 
 seated on a sofa in our old palace in the Borgo Santa 
 Croce looking at the cloud-capt Apennines, which 
 seemed walking in at the windows, and talking of Lord 
 Byron, from whose villa on the Brenta, Mr. Moore had just 
 arrived, when our Italian servant, Pasquale, announced 
 " The Countess of Albany ! " Here was an honour 
 which none but a Florentine could appreciate ! (for all 
 personal consequence is so local !) Madame d'Albany 
 never paid visits to private individuals, never left her 
 palace on the Lung' Arno, except for the English am- 
 bassador's or the Grand-Duke's. I had just time to 
 whisper Mr. Moore, ' The widow of the Pretender ! 
 Your legitimate Queen, and the love of your brother- 
 poet Alfieri ! ' and then came my turn to present my 
 celebrated compatriot, with all his much more durable 
 titles of illustration ; so down we all sate and ' fell to 
 discourse.' " * 
 
 * Souvenirs de Soixante Annees. The article announcing the donation 
 was inserted in the Journal des Debats, August 9, 1824. 
 
 * Lady Morgan, Book of the Boudoir. Also Reumont, Appendix, pp. 
 385-387. 
 
 326 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 The presence of so eminent a poet as Tom Moore was 
 sufficient of itself to render the Countess affable on this 
 occasion, but Lady Morgan comments severely on 
 Madame d'Albany's capricious behaviour at other times. 
 
 " The Countess of Albany could be the most agreeable 
 woman in the world, and upon the occasion of this 
 flattering visit she was so. She could also be the most 
 disagreeable, for like most great ladies, her temper was 
 uncertain, and her natural hauteur, when not subdued 
 by her brilliant bursts of good humour, was occasionally 
 extremely revolting. Still, she loved what is vulgarly 
 called fun, and no wit or sally of humour could offend 
 her." * 
 
 On another occasion Lady Morgan, in order to curry 
 favour with this capricious Stuart queen, actually made 
 an absurd scene on the occasion of George Ill's death, in 
 January 1820, when suddenly striking a theatrical pose 
 she greeted the Countess with two extemporary lines 
 in French. 
 
 Grande Princesse, dont les torts tout un peuple deplore, 
 Je viens vous annoncer, VUsurpateur est mort ! 
 
 " What usurper ? " was the not unnatural reply of the 
 mystified Countess who, however, was certainly flattered 
 at this novel (and to speak the truth exceedingly objec- 
 tionable) mode of announcing poor old King George's 
 demise ; although she herself was indebted for half her 
 income to his late Majesty and even possessed a picture 
 of the Prince Regent, which she affected to value highly. 
 
 In this monotonous but far from unpleasant existence, 
 the last years were spent. With the exception of a visit 
 to France, undertaken with the special object of seeing 
 Fabre's native town of Montpellier, in the summer of 
 1822, the Countess rarely left the palace on the Lung' 
 Arno. Universally distinguished, if not actually beloved, 
 
 * Ibidem. 
 
 327 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 she lived on at Florence, a privileged great lady in the 
 city of her adoption, growing ever more cynical and pessi- 
 mistic, yet conscientiously fulfilling her social duties to 
 the last. For some months after her return from France, 
 her health, always so far excellent thanks to her frugal 
 diet and healthy mode of life, began to show signs of a 
 break-down, in spite of the care spent in striving to pro- 
 long an existence, which ever since Alfieri's death she 
 had always described as irksome. Symptoms of dropsy 
 made their appearance in the closing months of 1823, 
 whilst in the January of the following year her con- 
 dition became so grave, that finally Fabre warned her of 
 the suspected fatal nature of her malady. She then 
 prepared to meet her end with calmness and resignation, 
 though suffering much at the last, especially from an 
 incessant thirst. Even so late as January 24 she still 
 owned sufficient strength to write to her favourite sister 
 Gustavine, who was now living with the old Princess- 
 Mother at Frankfort. Terribly alarmed and saddened 
 by the bad news from Florence, poor Gustavine had for 
 some time been sending anxious inquiries and offers of 
 assistance, so that the concluding pages of the Portefeuille 
 de la Comtesse d? Albany are filled with the pathetic letters 
 of her absent sister. 
 
 On January 19, she writes thus on receiving a bad 
 account of her eldest sister, whom she constantly speaks of 
 as her true mother, though Louise and Gustavine must of 
 necessity have seen comparatively little of one another 
 during their life-time. 
 
 "... My dear, good sister, I have just received your 
 letter of the 10th. It makes me wretched. My God ! 
 Take jelly if you cannot eat solid food, for that ought to 
 support you. I also implore Monsieur Fabre to write to 
 me, if writing tires you. He will gain my warmest grati- 
 tude thereby. But, O God, what does the doctor really 
 say ? Why does he not resort to every possible means 
 for you to overcome this weakness ? Think over my offer 
 
 328 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 to you. I shall come only too gladly to stay with you 
 until you are well again, my excellent sister, my real 
 mother. I embrace you, and I am terribly unhappy at 
 feeling myself so far removed from you." 
 
 After sending an imploring letter direct to Fabre, 
 Gustavine again writes to the dying Countess on 
 January 26. 
 
 " Whilst waiting, my dearest sister, for the letter I 
 expect to arrive to-day, and in the hope of diminishing my 
 anxiety, if possible, I begin my usual letter to you. 
 
 " I have been most unhappy all this week owing to the 
 bad account of your health. The thought of your illness 
 was almost more than I could endure. I saw you sad 
 and suffering, and I felt sorrow and pain at the thought of 
 the long distance between us. Again, I implore you, 
 my most beloved sister, to send for me to nurse you. 
 Never mind about the winter weather. When you 
 have quite recovered, then I can quit yourself, my true 
 mother, and return home, where all is well. . . . Alas, 
 my darling sister, I have just got your letter of the 17th. 
 Would that you could know with what anguish I awaited 
 it, and what a week of misery I have passed ! You must 
 have realised my unhappiness, for you have made the 
 effort to write to me, despite all your suffering. I thank 
 you from the bottom of my heart. Well-meaning friends 
 try to console me, but I tell them, 4 She is more than a 
 sister, she is a most tender parent, and my true mother.' 
 I must tell you that, fearing lest you would be unable to 
 write from excess of weakness, I asked Monsieur Fabre 
 to give me news of you. ... I am very grateful for 
 your letter, but then nobody loves you as I do, both as 
 daughter and sister. Again, I beg you send for me, if I 
 can be of service. I am ready to start, day or night." 
 
 Gustavine's last letter is dated February 2, four days 
 after the beloved sister's death. She had just received a 
 sad letter, the last she was fated ever to obtain, from the 
 
 3 2 9 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Countess, which the latter had contrived to write on 
 January 24. — " My dear Sister," so the heart-broken 
 Gustavine hastens to reply, " I have your letter of the 
 24th. It wrings my heart to a degree I cannot express. 
 Nevertheless, I thank you for your affection in writing 
 thus, and have only the time to send you my love." * 
 
 There is pathos to be found in these concluding 
 letters from various persons in the Portefeuille, many of 
 which deal^with trivial matters and ask advice or sym- 
 pathy from a dying, and even a dead woman, for at a 
 quarter past seven on the morning of January 29, there 
 passed peacefully away Louise of Stolberg-Gedern, 
 widow of Prince Charles-Edward Stuart, and the surviving 
 " Donna Amata " of the great poet Vittorio Alfieri. A 
 consistent if not a very devout Catholic, she departed 
 from this life fortified duly by the full rites of the 
 Church; whilst by a special decree of the Grand-Duke 
 Ferdinand III. her body was interred in Santa Croce. 
 
 The stilted notice of the deceased lady, published in the 
 official Gazzetta di Firenze of February 7, is perhaps 
 worth quoting here. 
 
 " The Imperial and Royal Grand Duke Ferdinand 
 constantly honoured the Countess of Albany with open 
 signs of approval and esteem, since he regarded her as a 
 choice ornament of his Capital, and sincerely hoped that 
 the rising generation of Florence would find an edifying 
 example in the true majesty of her upright and loyal 
 manner of life. This enlightened Prince, after feeling 
 deep anxiety during the course of her fatal illness and 
 an intense regret at her demise, has permitted by his 
 sovereign will that her body should repose in the 
 Church of Santa Croce. 
 
 "The high esteem,wherein She was held by the Imperial 
 and Royal Arch-duke Leopold,t was amply proved by 
 the many opportunities he had sought for intimate con- 
 
 * he Portefeuille, pp. 647-65 1 . 
 
 t Afterwards Leopold II. of Tuscany, who abdicated in 1859 
 
 33° 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 versations with Her. Her death has also been a severe 
 blow to the August Princesses, who have lamented in 
 death the virtues they have admired in life. 
 
 " Every human being secretly nurtures the germ of his 
 own destruction. The Countess of Albany was naturally 
 inclined to dropsy, and certain symptoms had for many 
 years past caused her some degree of ill-health. But four 
 years before her death, very grave symptoms had appeared, 
 whilst finally she was attacked by a feverish catarrh, 
 causing an intolerable thirst, constant accessions of high 
 fever, a weakness of the pulse, lack of appetite and other 
 distressing signs of illness. Still, she suffered no acute 
 pain, and never thought her end was near. At last, 
 however, she was warned by faithful friends that her 
 malady was gaining on her, and that her life was threa- 
 tened, whereupon She fortified herself with those aids 
 that pious Mother Church offers to her own children at 
 their last moments on earth. And thus in the full 
 possession of all her faculties, by turns praying and com- 
 forting her grief-stricken friends, She passed away on the 
 twenty-ninth day of January 1824, at a quarter past seven 
 in the morning, to the grief of the City which she had 
 selected for her residence." * 
 
 Although the Countess of Albany lived to the con- 
 siderable age of seventy-one years and four months, yet 
 she was the first to expire of the four Stolberg sisters ; 
 Princess Cast elf ranco (formerly Duchess of Berwick) 
 dying in 1829, the Comtesse d'Arberg in 1836, and the 
 unmarried Gustavine so late as 1837. The old Princess- 
 Mother, who was living with her youngest daughter at 
 Frankfort, and was still even in spite of her advanced age 
 absolutely devoted to dress and amusement, survived 
 the Countess by two years, dying in 1826. The famous 
 English historian, Earl Stanhope, was once introduced to 
 her at Frankfort, where he " found her in extreme old 
 age still lively and agreeable. It is singular," he com- 
 * Reumont, dppendix, pp. 396, 397. 
 
 331 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 ments, " that a man, born eighty-five years after the 
 Chevalier, should have seen his mother-in-law ! " * Only 
 in the month previous to the death of the Countess, the 
 dissatisfied and critical Gustavine had told her eldest 
 sister that " our Mother is very well. She is very much 
 excited about her winter gowns. She has purchased a 
 white one, which she made me inspect to her delight 
 yesterday, whilst I kept on thinking how much better 
 employed she would be in busying herself with what is 
 good and serious, instead of taking pleasure in such follies 
 as have occupied her mind, so it seems to me, during her 
 whole ninety years of existence." 
 
 Of the various eulogies and expressions of condolence 
 received by Fabre on this sad loss of a friend, who in his 
 own words " had made his life a pleasant one for thirty 
 years," the following letter from the warm-hearted and 
 generous Adele de Souza must suffice here. 
 
 " [Paris]. February qth, 1824. 
 " How I pity you, Monsieur, and how deeply I feel your 
 loss, the loss that we have all sustained ! Where can one 
 find again, so good, so indulgent, so sympathetic a friend ? 
 I shall lament her all my life, for I loved her with my 
 whole heart. I don't believe that in the whole course of 
 her life she ever did a thing or said a word to hurt any- 
 body .f 
 
 " I should like to know if my poor friend suffered much ; 
 if her last moment was hidden from her, that terrible 
 moment abhorred of our natural weakness, despite all the 
 courage and moral reflections wherewith we have armed 
 ourselves against it during life. Ah, Monsieur, if you 
 are not equal to writing to me, dictate a line to someone 
 at hand — in any case, tell me of her, for my heart craves 
 for news. Also tell me of yourself. What a long and 
 happy intimacy broken at last, and for ever. You must 
 
 * History of England, vol. iii. p. 558, note 2. 
 
 t Madame de Souza must have generously forgotten or forgiven the 
 extremely disagreeable letter sent to her by the Countess in 18 14 ! 
 
 332 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 feel as though your days, your hours, your very life had 
 stopped ; — ah, how well I understand it. Be well 
 assured, Monsieur, that the friend of my good and dear 
 friend will always find me interested and sympathetic, 
 and that you must send me your news as though I could 
 pass it on to her. So I am waiting impatiently for a 
 word from you, for I really believe I am the sole person 
 who can properly estimate your sufferings. 
 
 " I had written to her for the New Year, to send my 
 greeting and wishes for her good health and good fortune. 
 Alas, in my letter, I spoke of her return to Paris, for I was 
 very, very far from imagining I should never, never see 
 her again. 
 
 " Did she ever receive my letter ? 
 
 " But I shall make an end, Monsieur, since I do not wish 
 to add to your grief by dwelling on my own. Tell me 
 your news, speak to me of my poor darling friend, and 
 accept my most sincere sympathy. 
 
 " A. DE SOUZA." * 
 
 By her will, carefully drawn up and attested on March 
 29, 1 817, the Countess made a variety of bequests. To 
 her two married sisters, the Princess Castelfranco and the 
 Comtesse d'Arberg, she left mementoes in the form of 
 silver and costly china, whilst to her favourite Gustavine 
 she bequeathed the sum of 15,000 scudi, presumably the 
 bulk of her savings out of her not very large income, 
 which, as we have already shown, ceased abruptly at 
 her death. Other specific bequests are not without 
 interest. 
 
 To her nephew, the Duke of Berwick, head of the ille- 
 gitimate branch of the Royal Stuarts on the Continent, 
 she left a cameo portrait of the Pretender and also a 
 tortoise-shell box, inset with miniatures of Mary Queen of 
 Scots and of the Cardinal of York. To the Florentine 
 galleries she devised the two celebrated portraits by 
 Fabre of herself, and of Alfieri, which to-day adorn the 
 
 * Le Portefeuille, p. 655. 
 
 333 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 French Room of the Uffizi, and also the picture of The 
 Death of Narcissus by the same artist. The portrait by 
 Fabre of her valued friend the Abbe di Caruso, she left 
 to the head of his family ; whilst to the patriotic Abbe 
 Luigi di Breme she bequeathed a likeness of Alfieri from 
 her own hand, on the back of which the poet had in- 
 scribed a sonnet. To her old friend, Cardinal Consalvi, 
 " the Siren of Rome " (who died within a few days of 
 the Countess herself), she named another work by Fabre, 
 a half-length painting of St. Jerome. She also com- 
 manded her general heir to pay annuities to her two 
 servants, Luigi Biondi and Gaetano Masi, who had spent 
 over twenty years in her service. Her heir-general, as 
 might have been expected, was none other than Francois- 
 Xavier-Pascal Fabre, son of the late Monsieur Joseph 
 Fabre, a painter by profession, born at Montpellier, in 
 the department of the Herault, dwelling in Florence at 
 No. 2320, Via de' Mori * — " I have decided to nominate 
 him as my Universal Heir so as to prove my gratitude for 
 the attachment he has ever borne me, in which I have 
 never been deceived during twenty-four years, and 
 upon the continuance of which I can with certainty 
 rely." 
 
 One very important provision in this will, composed 
 nearly seven years before her death, was subsequently 
 invalidated by a donation during life, doubtless at the 
 instigation of Fabre. This was the bequest to the Library 
 of the Brera, at Milan, of practically the whole of Alfieri's 
 books and manuscripts, together with a marble bust of 
 their former owner, the Abbe Luigi di Breme being en- 
 trusted with the execution of this bequest. But with 
 the object of keeping intact the valuable possessions of 
 Casa Alfieri — the books and manuscripts of Alfieri, her 
 own library and a large collection of pictures owned by 
 herself and Fabre — the Countess made a complete dona- 
 tion of the whole of the contents of the palace on the 
 
 * Apparently the narrow Via del Moro, that runs from the Ponte alia 
 Carraja towards the piazza of Santa Maria Novella. 
 
 334 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 Lung' Arno to her Universal Heir, who subsequently 
 surrendered nearly all the Alfieri manuscripts to the 
 city of Florence ; whilst, as we shall presently show, he 
 removed the libraries and works of art into his native 
 land of France. To one who is not an Italian, this 
 decision seems fair and reasonable enough. Fabre's 
 anxiety to obtain possession of the belongings of the 
 Countess was certainly not prompted by any base or 
 mercenary motive, when he proposed to her his scheme 
 for placing all these valuable and historic objects in one 
 museum in his natal town of Montpellier ; in any case, 
 his arguments seem to have overcome any objection on 
 the part of the Countess, whose former bitterness against 
 France had quite disapp eared since the fall of the French 
 empire and the restoration of the Bourbons. 
 
 Throughout this biographical sketch of the Countess 
 of Albany we have endeavoured to use strict impartiality. 
 From what has been written therefore, the reader will 
 probably carry away the general impression that Louise 
 de Stolberg, Countess of Albany, was neither good nor 
 bad, but merely very human, and with the usual mixture 
 of human virtues and failings. For she was very far 
 removed from being the prodigy of duplicity and in- 
 gratitude that Signore Bertana and some other critics 
 seek to prove her ; nor was she a species of aristocratic 
 Magdalen or Marguerite, such as her French biographer, 
 M. Taillandier, portrays her. For our own part, we have 
 described her career and character without favour or 
 prejudice, and as a result we find no reason to agree with 
 Signore Bertana, when he calls her " a sceptical, mocking, 
 gossiping, utilitarian, evil-speaking woman, who de- 
 nounced patriotism as imposture, valour as folly, justice 
 as a myth, and slavery as the eternal destiny of whole 
 nations ... and whose only gifts were her superficial 
 powers as a reine de salon, a consummate mastery of the 
 art of conversation, and a disposition at once morbid and 
 serene." * On the other hand, she cannot assuredly be 
 * Bertana, pp. 277-279. 
 
 335 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 deemed a blameless and romantic princess, whose only- 
 fault lay in her deep attachment to a man who was never 
 her husband, for her life from the first was very far from 
 being free from deceit, selfishness and ingratitude. Her 
 perfidious conduct towards the Cardinal of York would 
 of itself always remain a dark stain upon her character ; 
 nor have we attempted to excuse it ; indeed, its sole 
 palliation can be sought in the fact that it was Alfieri 
 himself who largely dictated to her this dishonourable 
 course. That she was absolutely devoted, body and soul, 
 to Vittorio Alfieri we firmly believe, and we likewise hold 
 that the belated attempts to accuse her of infidelity or 
 ingratitude towards her Friend are not only false, but 
 also malevolent. One thing, however, is certain in 
 connection with the Alfieri episode ; and that is the 
 circumstance that it would have been far better for the 
 present-day esteem and reputation of the Countess, had 
 she followed her lover to the grave at no great distance of 
 time, instead of living on for twenty years of a comfortable 
 and rather prosaic existence ; what she gained in her 
 long life, she has lost in the eyes of posterity. The ease 
 and stagnation of her latter years undoubtedly helped 
 to make her character deteriorate ; she grew hard and 
 cynical, whilst yet acquiring a love of gossip which some- 
 times proved mischievous. Some of her later views on 
 morality moreover, as addressed to Foscolo, albeit 
 shrewd and amusing, appear far from edifying in an 
 elderly woman. It is in truth this long spell of a Floren- 
 tine residence after Alfieri' s death, that has done more 
 than aught else to root up the fair flowers of romance 
 which were plentiful enough in her youth, when she was 
 the Queen of Hearts of Roman society, the ill-treated 
 but brave and struggling consort of the Stuart king, the 
 woman beloved and worshipped as a semi-divine creature 
 by the tragic poet of Piedmont. Indeed, the Countess 
 of Albany may almost be said to have lived down a sym- 
 pathetic and poetical reputation ; for she survived her 
 own generation, whilst the ris'ng generation in Florence 
 
 33 6 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 only beheld in her a quaint, conceited, satirical, rather 
 spiteful and pessimistic old lady, " una reliquia del Conte 
 Alfieri," whose authenticity seemed almost doubtful, 
 such ages ago had her poet expired and the society 
 wherein she had moved and been admired had passed 
 away. Says Professor Callegaris with some degree of 
 truth ; " The Countess was an old Legitimist, dragged 
 across the whirl-pool of the French Revolution, ever 
 absorbed in the contemplation of a world that had 
 collapsed, and scarcely able to understand the new era 
 that was dawning." * 
 
 But such a statement merely brings us back to our 
 original remark, that Louise, Countess of Albany, was 
 neither good nor bad, but only very human, with a 
 character chequered over with the lights and shadows 
 of faults and virtues, so that it lies with the reader to 
 apportion the exact amount of praise or blame after the 
 perusal of this unbiased biography. We shall, therefore, 
 only sum up one or two salient points that we have de- 
 cided for ourselves, (i) That the Countess of Albany 
 was fully justified in deserting her husband. (2) That 
 she acted throughout with low cunning and base in- 
 gratitude towards her brother-in-law, the Cardinal of 
 York. (3) That her devotion to Alfieri, however much 
 open to censure, was sincere, unselfish and imperishable. 
 (4) That her relations with Francois-Xavier Fabre were 
 merely those of natural and simple friendship. (5) That 
 in many matters her character, though far from perfect, 
 has been most unjustifiably maligned by certain modern 
 critics. 
 
 With the death of Madame d'Albany and with the 
 recent restoration of the Bourbon dynasty in France, 
 there no longer remained any obstacle to Fabre's departure 
 from Florence, in order to settle once more in the father- 
 land to which he had been almost a stranger for over thirty 
 years. The painter indeed, despite his age and his con- 
 * Di un Carteggio delta Comtessa d? Albany. Op. cit. 
 
 y 337 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 stant ill-health, seems to have been imbued with a strong 
 desire to return to France so as to spend the evening of 
 his life at Montpellier, wherein few persons living could 
 now recall their humble fellow-citizen, who had risen 
 to the highest rank in his profession. But first of all, he 
 made the necessary arrangements to erect the required 
 monument in the Chapel of the Sacrament in Santa 
 Croce to the princess, to whom he owed so much, and 
 who, as he himself simply states, made his life a pleasant 
 one for thirty years. This monument, with its mourning 
 cherubs and classical altar-tomb, was originally designed 
 by Fabre's friend, Percier, the French architect of the 
 Arc de Triomphe ; whilst its minor details were carried 
 out by the Florentine sculptors Emilio Santarelli and 
 Ottavio Giovannozzi.* 
 
 It presents a tolerable appearance considering the 
 soulless epoch of its erection, for some of its ornamenta- 
 tion is evidently intended to imitate the graceful designs 
 of the early Renaissance, in which the beautiful church 
 is so rich. In the tympanum above, appear the shields of 
 Britain and of Stolberg-Gedern, surmounted by a regal 
 crown and supported by the familiar Lion and Unicorn 
 of the British royal arms. As will be noticed from the 
 accompanying illustration, the memorial itself is declared 
 on its pedestal to be the outcome of a grateful heart and 
 of a sincere reverence, which seems to denote accurately 
 the spirit wherein Fabre raised it to the Countess ; but the 
 striking epitaph composed originally by Alfieri is wholly 
 absent from the inscription.f 
 
 Having paid this last tribute to the memory of the 
 Countess of Albany, and having carried out various instruc- 
 tions received from her, Fabre prepared to quit Florence, 
 taking with him, by special permission of the Tuscan 
 
 * Reumont, vol. ii. pp. 154-156. Vernon Lee, p. 222. 
 
 t A Vittorio Alfierio ultra res omnes dilecta et quasi mortale numen 
 ah ipso constanter habita et observata. (Loved above all things by 
 Vittorio Alfieri, and ever held and venerated by him as a semi-divine 
 creature.) 
 
 338 
 
MONUMENT TO LOUISE, COUNTESS OF 
 ALBANY, IN SANTA CROCE, FLORENCE 
 
 Alinari 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 Government, the greater portion of the contents of Casa 
 Alfieri, all of which had now become his property. First, 
 however, he sorted out the manuscripts of Alfieri from 
 the rest, and these he formally presented to the famous 
 Laurentian Library, that magnificent monument of 
 Medicean patronage, where they are still preserved. 
 For this gift to the city of Florence, which may or may 
 not have been made con amore, Fabre was named a Cheva- 
 lier of the Tuscan Order of San Stefano, by the Grand- 
 Duke, who at any rate thereby proved himself satisfied 
 with his conduct in the matter. After selling the furni- 
 ture and other domestic objects in Casa Alfieri, the 
 painter now announced his intention to the Mayor of 
 Montpellier of presenting the whole of this valuable and 
 interesting collection to his native town upon certain con- 
 ditions. 
 
 On January 5, 1825, within a year of the Countess' 
 death, Fabre writes thus to the Mayor respecting his 
 decision. 
 
 " I own in Italy a very large number of pictures old 
 and modern, books, engravings, sketches, and other ob- 
 jects, which I purpose offering as a gift to the town of 
 Montpellier, my birth-place. My own library in par- 
 ticular includes all important publications on the arts, 
 ancient buildings, museums, public and private galleries, 
 travels of artistic interest, &c. A donation in my favour 
 made during her life-time by Madame la Comtesse 
 d' Albany, born Princess of Stolberg, has rendered me 
 absolute owner of her own library as well as that of the 
 celebrated Count Vittorio Alfieri of Asti. This 
 last includes everything of value in Greek, Latin and 
 Italian literature ; whilst that of the Countess is chiefly 
 composed of the best books in French, English and 
 German." * 
 
 This munificent gift to a French provincial town was 
 in fact composed of the three libraries of Alfieri, of the 
 # Mazzatinti, Le Carte Alfieriane di Montpellier. Op. cit. p. 28. 
 
 339 
 
The Last Stuart Queen 
 
 Countess, and of Fabre himself ; whilst in addition there 
 were pictures of varying degrees of excellence to the 
 number of two hundred and twenty-four, besides a quan- 
 tity of sketches, engravings, bronzes and other objects 
 of art. All this mass of precious books, manuscripts, 
 paintings and other effects was eventually removed out 
 of Italy and arranged in the building of the " Musee 
 Fabre," at Montpellier, where the citizens expressed 
 their sense of gratitude by causing a gold medal to be 
 struck, bearing on one side a figure of Minerva with the 
 words Musee Fabre, and on the reverse the inscription : 
 A. F.-X. Fabre de Montpellier La Ville Reconnaissante, 
 1828 ; the year wherein this new collection was opened 
 to the public. The painter, who now assumed the modest 
 title of " Conservateur de la Musee Fabre," was also 
 made the recipient of a barony, and the ribband of the 
 Legion of Honour from King Charles X., in March 1830, 
 shortly before the Revolution of July and the final 
 expulsion of the Legitimist Bourbons. Fabre, who 
 never ceased to suffer acutely from his old enemy the gout, 
 lived on a confirmed invalid at Montpellier, though he 
 undertook occasional visits to Paris, where in the spring of 
 1835 he was honoured with a public banquet by his 
 admirers. He finally expired at Montpellier, on March 
 15, 1837, at the age of seventy, having survived the 
 Countess of Albany a little over thirteen years. 
 
 His death was made the theme of a public eulogy pro- 
 nounced by the artist, Gamier, at the Institut Royale de 
 France, on March 25, of the same year. In his address 
 the speaker lamented the passing away of yet another dis- 
 tinguished pupil of the great painter David, for his old 
 colleagues Girodet, Gros and Gerard were already dead. 
 Fabre, so Gamier declared in his speech, had had the 
 fortune and honour of an early presentation to the late 
 Countess of Albany, whose influential friendship had un- 
 doubtedly proved of especial service to his career. — 
 " His particular talents are marked by extreme purity of 
 design, by rich colouring, and by careful finish, whilst he 
 
 340 
 
Last Days of the Stuart Queen 
 
 was greatly attracted by landscape painting. By his 
 long residence at Florence he lost many opportunities for 
 producing grand historical compositions, but found in 
 that city many subjects for portraiture." * 
 
 * Funerailles de VInstitut Royale de France. Pieces Diverses. Notice 
 sur Mr. F. X. Fabre par Mr. Gamier (1837— 1838). 
 
 34' 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 The ensuing seven letters from the Countess of Albany 
 to Signora Teresa Mocenni and the Arch-priest Luti are 
 preserved in Fascicolo A, 146, 538, at theBiblioteca Maru- 
 celliana in Florence. They are not included in Monsieur 
 Pelissier's collection, Les Lettres Inedites de la Comtesse 
 d? Albany a ses Amis de Sienne, to which I have often 
 made allusion in the course of this work, nor have they 
 as yet been published, so far as I am aware. Since they 
 help to fill certain gaps in the lengthy correspondence so 
 ably edited by Monsieur Pelissier, I have ventured to 
 include them in this Appendix for the convenience or 
 pleasure of the reader, who may take the opportunity to 
 study the Albany-Mocenni letters, as already given to 
 the public by him in the above-mentioned work. 
 
 Illegible and dubious words are frequent throughout 
 these seven letters, and the sense is occasionally obscure, 
 but they undoubtedly form, even in this unsatisfactory 
 state, an interesting addition to Monsieur Pelissier's 
 valuable collection. The dates of month and year have in 
 most cases been filled in by a later hand, apparently that 
 of Quirina Mocenni-Magiotti. 
 
 I " 22 Fevrier (1800) 
 
 " J'ai recu, ma chere Therese, votre engagement avec 
 le Poete que je lui ai remis d'abord. II attendra pour 
 faire faire son chocolat que les drogues sont a meilleures 
 marches d'autant plus qu'elles sont deja baisses de beau- 
 coup. Le sucre et le cacao ne sont pas plus chers que il 
 n'etait il y a deux ans, et alors il a paye son chocolat quatre 
 paules et demie. Pour ce prix on en a du tres bon a 
 
 342 
 
Appendix 
 
 Florence. Si je ne faite pas assez vite mon march6 de 
 livres, je vous renvoyerai votre argent. Je vous dois 42 
 paules. J'ai a faire a un Jeuf qui veut vendre ses livres 
 comme neuf, et moi je ne veux pas les payer que pour ce 
 qu'ils valient. Cela fait que je ne cede pas, parce que 
 de les avoir un mois plutot ou plus tard m est egale. 
 J'ai recu le livre sur la France, il y a du bon dans cet ouv- 
 rage, mais c'est un livre de parti, comme tout ce qu'on 
 ecrit a present. II a une grande reputation, et il a ete 
 ecrit pour plaire au Roi de Sardaigne qui est devote. 
 
 " J'espere toujours que votre mar. echapperala prison, 
 si la gouvernement s'interesse a lui, car xi on ne peut 
 rien faire pour lui, a ce que m' a dit le Senateur Protec- 
 teur. Le carnaval est tres triste, l'argent est rare, le pain 
 est cher, tout cela ne rejoui personne. Le terns est aussi 
 si mauvais, il ne peut pas se remettre a beau. — Je salue 
 l'Archipretre. On dit que les Russes restiront de 
 nouveau qu'ils marchent vers le Rhin cette versalite (?) 
 perpetuelle est b.en ridicule. II est vrai qu'ils avoient 
 raison de se plaindre de la capitulation d'Ancone (?). 
 Je crois qu'il y a des gens payes pour brouiller les deux 
 cours. La France y a un grand interet. Dans peu de 
 jours nous entendrons dire qu'il y aura encore une nou- 
 velle cause de tracasseries. Dieu veuille que nous ne 
 soyons pas la victime de tantes des dissensions, car c'est 
 toujoirs nous qui payons les pot casses. J'aurais autant 
 aime que ce Buonaparte soit reste en Egypte avec ses 
 Mamelukes, c'est une tete ardente et active qui fait aller 
 les hommes, et les Francais suivent eux qui ies font mar- 
 cher avec le baton, et avec des coups de pieds. II est 
 incroyable que les Francais ayont souffert dix ans tous 
 les malheurs possible pour avoir un Roi Corse. Je ne 
 connais rien de plus humiliant. Adieu, ma chere 
 Therese. Aimez moi, et comptez a jamais sur ma tendre 
 amitie pour la vie. 
 
 " Mille choses a Vittorio. 
 M (Al Signor Arciprete Luti, Provveditore degli Studi 
 dell Universita di Siena, a Siena)." 
 
 343 
 
Appendix 
 
 II 15 Mars a midi (1800) 
 
 " J'avais oublie, ma chere Therese, de vous dire que nous 
 avions recu la Misogallo. Je vous ecris done ces deux 
 lignes pour vous en accuser la reception, et vous renvoyez 
 votre engagement. Mille complimens du Poete. Je 
 vous embrasse de tout mon coeur. Ayez soin de vous, 
 promenez vous, et jouissez de votre liberte." 
 
 HI 9 Ami (1800) 
 
 " Je concois, ma Therese, que vous regretterez votre 
 campagne ou vous £tes tranquille loin de votre Bronto- 
 lone, mais votre devoir vous appelle a Sienne et votre 
 plaisir doit y ceder, puisque vous retirez votre fille du 
 couvent. J'avoue que je ne concois pas pourquoi, car 
 en Italie les filles ne sont bien que renfermees. J'en ai 
 vue de tristes exempts ici dans mes yeux, et je me suis 
 convaincue que les filles doivent rester en couvent jusqu' 
 a la manage. Leurs sens parlent trop tot dans ce pays ici, 
 elles ne sont pas comme nous qui sommes froides, et puis 
 dans mon pays les etouderies d'une fille ne signifient rien, 
 on est plus severe pour les femmes. Basta, vous aurez 
 vos raisons pour agir comme vous faites, car vous ne 
 faites jamais rien a la legere, ou on vous force a ne pas 
 faire tres bien. J'espere que apres votre retraite de tant 
 de terns vous reviendrez dans le monde plus indulgente 
 pour les hommes qui sont comme leur permet la nature 
 qui les a formes de chair et d'os. II y a quelques etres 
 priviligies qui scavent faire dominer le morale sur la phy- 
 sique. Soyez done de ce nombre et voyez les pour ce 
 qu ils sont. Apprennez a les voir comme une lanterne 
 magique, et a ne vous arretter que aux objets ridicules 
 pour en rire. Je suis parvenue a ce point. J'entends les 
 commerages que le soir et je le prends comme une 
 comedie. Apprenez encore a scavoir vous recuillir au 
 milieu du monde, et quand il n'est pas necessaire de parler 
 de vous accoutumer a penser. II est inutile, ma Therese, 
 de lire et de reflechir, si vous ne scavez pas vous en servir 
 pour elever votre ame, mais je ne crois pas le moitie de ce 
 
 344 
 
Appendix 
 
 que vous me dites. Nous ne pouvons pas nous empecher 
 de preferer une chose a Fautre, mais d'abord (?) que nous 
 sacrificons notre plaisir a notre devoir, nous en avons 
 plus de merite. 
 
 " Je suis fachee de ce que vous m'avez dit de vostre figli- 
 astre, l'envie difficilement se guerit, il se cache mais ne se 
 deracine guere, il annonce tou jours une ame vile. II 
 est possible que la physique de ce jeune homme soit la cause 
 que son morale soit inquiet. Vittorio est heureusement 
 ne, c'est un excellent jeune homme, pourvu qu'il ne se 
 gate pas. II a une grande qualite — c'est de vouloir se 
 distinguer. L'amour de la gloire annonce une ame noble 
 et grande. Quel dommage qu'il ne puisse pas faire une 
 carriere brillante, quoique cependant il sera plus heureux 
 dans son etat. 
 
 " A propos de carriere,Mgr.Consalvi est Cardinal Secre- 
 taire d'Etat. II la merite par une conduite noble et ferme, 
 c'est un homme qui a de l'esprit et de l'activite, il tra- 
 vaille pour quatre {illegible) et mange tres peu. 
 
 " Mr. Cicciaporci desire de faire votre connaissance, ma 
 Therese, il sera content de vous. Je ne donnerai aucunes 
 nouvelles a l'Archipretre, parce que Cicciaporci le lui 
 donnera. 
 
 " Le fou de Bristol est encore couru a Sienne. II va faire 
 faire un tableau plus grand du premier a Fabre. Son 
 argent estbon, et il le depense, ce qui est un bonheur 
 pour les artistes dans ce moment. Adieu, ma Therese. 
 Je vous embrasse de t(ou)t mon cceur mille fois. Aimez 
 moi et comptez a jamais sur ma tendre amitie. Je n'ai 
 pas entendu parler des presens de Buonaparte au Pape. 
 II peut lui donner des Calices, car il doit en avoir la 
 quantite a sa disposition en ayant vole beaucoup. Avez 
 vous deja le nouveau Gouverneur ? Ou est on plus 
 content que du precedent ? 
 
 II G (ran) D (uca) l'a fatto pulito, l'ha sostenuto con- 
 tro la moltitudine e poi a contentato chi non lo voleva 
 quando a piacciuto a lui — chi piacce quando le case 
 vanno in regola. II poeta li saluta tutti caramente. 
 
 345 
 
Appendix 
 
 Fabre lavora molto, e li presenti i suoi respetti. U 
 fratello medico guarisce per lo piu, e non ha ancora 
 mandate nessuno nel paese di lei. Egli e prudente e buon 
 medico e conosce perf ettamente il male Gal. . . , lo guarisce 
 radicalmente, non e poco. Addio, amatemi." 
 
 (There follows a long Postscript in Alfieri's hand- 
 writing, concerning the proposed epitaph for Gori, which 
 is included in Lettere lnedite, p. 261. No address given.) 
 
 IV 18 viii bre (1800) 
 
 " Vous avez ete, ma chere Therese, aussi etonnee que 
 moi des evenemens. On ne sait a quoi les atribuer, qui 
 assure que c'est une convention entre les deux puissances, 
 qui dit que c'est une infraction d'armistice, — pour moi 
 je ne sais que dire, je laisse chacun raisonner a sa guise. 
 II faut ba.sser la tete et se resigner. On n'entend plus 
 rien a la politique, ni a rien dans ce monde, la bonne foi 
 des traites, rien n'est plus sauve, on ne pense qu'a prendre 
 a qui convient, et au cela convient. 
 
 " Tout Florence est alle a la campagne. La ville est 
 deserte. On ne voit que du peuple dans les rues, peu de 
 soldats, la force principale est allee vers Avorio, on dit 
 qu'ils vont a Naples. C'est une tache d'huile qui s'etend 
 a l'infini. On n'y concoit rien. Toutes les personnes 
 qui avaient abandonne leur pays avec les Francais sont 
 rentrees, et jusqu'a present elles sont tres tranquilles. 
 Tout le monde Test. Et 1' entree des Francais en ville 
 paraissait une pompe funebre, tout le monde pleurait, 
 et pas une personne n'applaudissait. 
 
 "Je salue l'Archipr£tre et je le prie de ne pas perdre 
 courage, mais de bruler tous ces livres de politique. 
 
 " Mille choses al Signor Cicciaproci, et dites lui que je 
 lui recommande de se saigner, non pas en se faisant 
 saigner mais en etant tres sobre, buvant peu de vin. 
 
 " Je ne lui repondspas, parce que je n'ai pas la force 
 d'ecrire beaucoup, la lettre est pour tous les amis. Mille 
 remercimens a notre Vittorio. Je suis charmee que St. 
 
 346 
 
Appendix 
 
 Therese lui plait. Je lui recommande de se conduire 
 comme il a toujours fait. 
 
 " Le poete vous salue. II se porte bien malgre tous les 
 chagrins qu'il'a. Fabre vous presente : ses hommages, 
 il est charme que vous £tes contente de la Sainte. II y a 
 travaille beaucoup pour qu'elle soit mieux et plus belle 
 pour votre oratoire. J'ai un grand plaisir que vous en 
 soyez contente, c'est une vraie jouissance pour moi. 
 Prenez garde a votre Danois, s'il plait, cela pouvait vous 
 procurer des desagremens. II est vrai que les abitans 
 duNord respectent les jeunespersonnes. Adieu. Aimez 
 moi toujours, comme je vous aime. Je vous embrasse de 
 tout mon coeur. 
 
 " (Address. Al Sign or Arciprete Luti, Provveditore 
 di deg'i Studi di Siena, a Siena.) " 
 
 V 
 
 Le 29 (October 1800) 
 " Vous scavez, ma chere Therese, que le gouvernement 
 provisoire a donne sa demission et qu'il a ete remplace 
 par Chiaventi ci-devant Medecin, Speroni noble de 
 Cortona, et Gover (?) dont j 'ignore le ci-devant etat. 
 L'avocat Leoni est President de la Police, il a remplace 
 Vacca qui a ete l'acteur a Pisa. Tous ces messieurs sont 
 revenus avec l'invasion des Francais. Nous ignorons si 
 nous avons la paix ni la guerre ou meme l'armistice. 
 Nous vivons dans l'obscurite, au jour la journee, et passons 
 le terns avec l'epaule (?) qui est bien long et bien triste. 
 car il pleut averse tous les jours. 
 
 " Je vous prie, ma tres chere, de ne me pas confondre 
 avec les gens de la ville qui ne prennent pas Fair, car je 
 sort par tous les terns, meme quand il pleut a sceau, je 
 prends mon parapluie et galoppe comme s'il faisait beau 
 terns et je m'en trouve tres bien. Je crois cependant 
 que une situation humide comme Piano et ou la brouillard 
 domine et les eaux sont mauvaises n'est pas un endroit 
 saine pour personne. Ayez soin de vous, pour vos en- 
 
 347 
 
Appendix 
 
 fants et pour vos amis. Je Vous envoie deux petits 
 volumes a l'addresse de i'Archiprete, que je vous prie 
 d 'accepter et de ne montrer a personne, en les lisant 
 vous en verrez la consequence, et si meme vous en enten- 
 dez parler n'avouez jamais que je vous les ai donnes. 
 Je me fie a votre parole que je connais aussi sacree que la 
 mienne. 
 
 " Le Poete vous salue, il ne fait plus qu'etudier le grec 
 et a renonce a poetura. D'ailleurs il est trop melan- 
 cholique pour avoir le courage de faire des vers. 
 
 " Mille complimens al Signor Antonio. Je ne sais 
 aucunes nouvelles a lui ecrire, nous vivons dans l'obscu- 
 rite. On dit que le Comte de Cobenzl est alle a Luneville 
 avec Joseph Buonaparte a ce que disent les gazettes que 
 je ne lis guere, mais qu'on me raconte. J'ecris peu et 
 pour cause. J'aime a parler franchement, et la franchise 
 n'est pas a l'ordre du jour. Tout le monde veut faire le 
 mal, mais ne veut pas qu'en leur disse sotto il muso (?). 
 Adieu. Tiriamo avanti alia meglio, apres la pluie vient 
 le bon terns. II n'y a rien de durable dans ce monde. 
 Pope dit que tantes les operations humaines sont fondees 
 sur le sable. 
 
 "J'embrasse ma Therese et salue Vittorio. Je prie 
 l'aimable Triumvirat de ne pas m'oublier et de m'aimer, 
 parceque je le merite leur etant tres attaches. Mardi 
 j'ecrirai al Signor Antonio, forse ci sara qualche nuove. 
 
 " {Address. Al Signor Arciprete Luti, &c). 
 
 VI 6 Decembre (1800) 
 
 "Je suis charmee, ma chere Therese, que vous pensez 
 serieusement a vous guerir de cette incommodite qui 
 etant prolongee peut devenir tres nuisible a votre sante. 
 Ayez soin de vous, je vous en prie. Nous avons un terns 
 abominable, il pleut jour et nuit, c'est un terrible hiver. 
 
 "Je tache m'occuperleplusque je puis pour agreer (?) le 
 tem6 passe plus vite, mais il s'en va a pas de tortues, 
 ainsi que d'autres que je connais, mais qui arriveront 
 cependant. J'exhorte PArchipretre a se faire courage, 
 
 348 
 
Appendix 
 
 11 apres la pluye vient le bon terns," ct mon Barometre 
 annonce que la Tempete passera. II doit se ressouvenir 
 que mon Barometre est excellent, qu'il a ete fait par un 
 Professeur de Pavia. Toutes les choses excessives ne 
 peuvent pas durer, par consequent il nepeut pas greler 
 eternellement. Je vous prie de dire la m&me chose al 
 Signor Antonio. II est affreux d'avoir un hiver aussi 
 rigide avec tous nos autres meaux. Je suis charme que 
 notre Vittorio soit si raisonnable que de meriter d'etre 
 admis dans la societe des Dames Cicciaporci, cela doit 
 lui donner de l'emulation pour se conduire toujours 
 mieux. 
 
 " Nous ne savons plus rien des nouvelles politiques, on 
 neparle ni de paix ni de guerre. II parait qu'on traite 
 (?) a Luneville puisque Mr. de Cobenzel y est. Dieu 
 veuille nous rendre le repos et la tranquillite tant desiree 
 et tant attendue. Dites al Signor Antonio (pour ne pas 
 multiplier les lettres) que mon beau-frere traite (?) 
 directement avec le fsien pour l'affaire en question, 
 et qu'il n'a jamais pense a grevendiquer l'ancienne 
 dette. 
 
 " Le Poete se porte bien et vous salue tous, il est impos- 
 sible de lui (illegible) pour la Therese, car ilnefait plus rien 
 que de lire du Grec, ainsi excepte des paroles de cette 
 langue il n'ecrit plus dans aucune autre pour le moment. 
 Vous scavez que lorsqu il entreprend une chose le vuol 
 sfuntare. 
 
 " Je ne puis pas envoyer les livres promis et pour cause. 
 J'exhorte l'Archipretre a se calmer la t£te et a s'occuper 
 de ses Tusculans (?) et de tous les ouvrages de Ciceron 
 qui s'est trouve dans ce mauvais momens. 
 
 "Adieu, ma chere Therese, ;ayez soin de votre sante. 
 Aimez moi autant que je vous aime. Je salue l'aimable 
 Triumvirat et la lettre servira pour tous les trois. J'espere 
 que vous y devinerez les sentimens que m'animent pour 
 Vous — Vous avez entendu parler de la colere du Baron 
 de Falkenstein de ce que Mr. Theodore s'etait empare 
 de sa tit re (?) et avait mis le (illegible) dessus, il veut le 
 
 349 
 
Appendix 
 
 revoir plutot on (illegible) un proces trcs serieux — Dites 
 moi si vous s^avez cette affaire ? 
 
 " (Address. Al Signor Arciprete, &c). 
 
 VII 
 
 Le 21. (Probably July 21, 1802). 
 
 " Je remercie notrc Quirina, ma chere Therese, de 
 m'avoir donne de vos nouvelles pendant que vous etiez 
 a soigner votre mari qui probablement sera gueri a 
 present pour se mettre en route Mercredi. Vous 
 souffrirez terriblement de la chaleur. L'epoux attend 
 l'epouse avec beaucoup d'ardeur, comme l'epoux du 
 Cantique des Cantiques, et on dit dans un grand orgasme, 
 on distrait son ardeur charnel en lui donnant des pep ins 
 de melons a pialler peur en faire de l'argent (?). Cette 
 premiere nuit sera curieuse, et la Quirina sera obligee 
 de le conduire, et s'il prend gout il la faire mentira. 
 C'est absolumment comme un Asne, car la tete (?) n'y 
 sera pour rien. 
 
 " Nous etouffons al solito, et il pouvait que le chaleur 
 ne veut pas diminuer. Vous trouverez Fabre un peu 
 deconcerte. Son pere, qui etait Hydropiaque, a en Mardi 
 une attaque d'apoplexie dont il a un cote tout perdu 
 et ne peut pas parler. II vit, mais comme hier au soir 
 il etait plus mal, il est possible que ce matin il sera mort, 
 ce qui serait bien heureux pour lui et pour eux, car un 
 £tre dans cet etat est trop malheureux, et rend tout le 
 monde tel. La femme est au desespoir, car c'etait sa 
 seule societe, ne connaissant personne ici, et les femmes 
 ne sont pas capable de lui tenir compagnie sur tout le 
 soir. Adieu, ma chere Therese, au plaisir de vous revoir. 
 Portez vous bien. Mille choses a la Quirina. 
 
 " P.S. Je salue l'Archipretre qui a beni cet extra- 
 ordinaire manage. 
 
 "(Address. Al Signor Arciprete, &c.)." * 
 
 * This letter is most carelessly written and most difficult to decipher in 
 many places. See also chapter xi. of this present volume. 
 
 35° 
 
INDEX 
 
 Acunha, Comte d', 32 
 Adlerberth, Baron, 28 
 Ailesbury, Countess of, 164 
 Akerblad, 281 
 
 Albany, Count of, see Stuart, Prince 
 Charles-Edward 
 
 Countess of, see Louise 
 
 Duchess of, see Stuart, Charlotte 
 Alfieri, family of, 31 
 
 Comtesse Giulia di Cum i ana, 76 
 
 I53> 195, 238, 242 
 Comtesse Monica, 31, 106-108, 
 120 
 
 Comte Vittorio, career of : birth 
 and education, 31 ; travels, 32 ; 
 intrigue with Penelope, Lady 
 Ligonier, 33, 34; meeting 
 with Caluso, 35 ; intrigue 
 with Marchesa di Prie, 35, 36 ; 
 first sight of his "Donna 
 Amata," 37; life and friends 
 at Siena, 38-41 ; visits the 
 Stuart palace, 42 ; his object 
 and conduct criticised, 46-53 ; 
 aids the escape of Louise, 56- 
 58, 65 ; life in Rome, 67-75 ; 
 " donation " of his estates, 76 ; 
 Antigone acted, 81-83 ; expul- 
 sion from Rome, 85, 86 ; re- 
 turns to Siena, 92, 94; visits 
 England to buy horses, 105, 
 106 ; reunion with the " Donna 
 Amata," 118; grief at Gori's 
 death, 119; spends some 
 months at Pisa, 123, 124; his 
 treatment of Elia, 126-129; 
 residence at Colmar, 132, 133 ; 
 
 Alfieri, family of, 
 
 residence in Paris, 141-143 ; ill- 
 ness at Colmar, 143, 144 ; rela- 
 tions with his mother, 145-148 ; 
 dislike of Paris, 157 ; watches 
 destruction of the Bastille, 
 159, 160 ; visits England with 
 Louise, 162 ; second meeting 
 with Lady Ligonier, 174, 175 ; 
 escape from Paris, 177-180; 
 return to Italy, 181 ; friend- 
 ship with F. X. Fabre, 185, 
 186; settles with Louise in 
 Casa Alfieri, 189, 190; his 
 dramatic performances, 190 ; 
 hatred of the French, 192; 
 grief at Bianchi's death, 193 ; 
 retreat to a Florentine villa, 
 230, 231 ; his violent temper, 
 234-236; ill health, 236; 
 dispute with General Miollis, 
 237, 238 ; his " Order of 
 Homer," 240, 241 ; last days, 
 241, 242 ; his character, 243 ; 
 his monument by Canova, 
 247-252 
 Appearance of, 135, 186, 187 
 Letters to, Alfieri, Comtesse 
 Giulia, 127-129, 242 
 Alfieri, Comtesse Monica, 
 147 
 
 Bianchi, Mario, 119, 124, 
 125, 133, *34> I4i-i43> 
 150, 157, 177, 182, 183 
 Caluso, Abbe di, 31, 241,242 
 Mocenni, Madame Teresa 
 193, 194 
 
 35 1 
 
Index 
 
 Works of, translated or quoted : 
 The Autobiography, or Vita, 
 37, 41, 44, 65, 68, 117, 
 118, 149, 161, 167, 174, 
 175, 177-180, 230, 238, 
 241 
 
 Ode to Sleep, 50, 51 
 
 Sonnets (quoted), 35, 41, 54, 
 194, 195, 260 
 (translated), 49, 80, 93, 
 94, 176, 187, 188 
 
 Tragedies, &c: Agamem- 
 non, 10,102; Agis, 118; 
 America Libera, 98 ; An- 
 tigone, 81-83, 191 ; Cleo- 
 patra, 35 ; Maria Stuarda, 
 4*>» 50? 53 ; Miso-Gallo, 
 181, 183, 237; Merope, 
 107; Myrrba, 118; 
 Oreste, 100, 103 ; Parigi 
 Sbastigliata, 160, 181 ; 
 Rosmunda, 100 ; Saul, 79, 
 190, 192 234 ; Sophonisba, 
 118; Virth Sconosciuta 9 
 
 157, 158 
 Allen, Admiral, 21 
 
 Miss Jessie (Madame Sismondi), 
 292 
 
 Angelelli, Marchese, 12, 123 
 Angiolini, Chev. Luigi, 255, 256 
 Antonelli, Cardinal, 199 
 Arberg, Comtesse d', see Stolberg- 
 
 Gedern 
 Argenteau, Mercy d', 155 
 Ariosto, 36, 54, 78, 92, 124 
 Azeglio, Massimo d', 261, 262, 275, 
 
 276, 322 
 
 Bacciochi, Felice, Prince of Piom- 
 
 bino, 267, 268 
 Barry, Madame du, 164, 166 
 Basseville, Ugo de, 186 
 Baucignies, Comtesse de, 2 
 Beaton, Dr., 21 
 
 Beauharnais, Prince Eugene de, 302, 
 306 
 
 352 
 
 Beauharnais, Hortense de, Queen of 
 Holland, 270, 283, 285 
 Josephine de, Empress of the 
 French, 155, 181, 254, 255 
 Beaumarchais, 148, 156 
 Beck-Bernard, Madame Lina, 144, 
 145 
 
 Bembo, Cardinal, 92 
 
 Benedict XIV., Pope, 122 
 
 Benvenuti, Pietro, 268, 277 
 
 Bernis, Cardinal de, 74, 82, 109 
 
 Berry, the Misses, 164 
 
 Berwick, Duchess of, see Stolberg, 
 
 Dukes of, 5, 333 
 Bianchi, Chev. Mario, 39, 40, 107, 
 
 119, 123-125, 130, 131, 141-143, 
 
 150, 151, 157, 177, 182, 186, 192- 
 
 197, 205, 206 
 Bignami, Madame, 300, 302, 304, 
 
 306, 317 
 Biondi, Luigi, 334 
 Boigne, Comtesse de, 163 
 Bonstetten, Carl-Victor, 17, 21, 23- 
 
 25, 29, 82, 265, 272, 278-280, 292 
 Botta, 315 
 
 Breme, Abbe Luigi di, 282, 311, 
 334 
 
 Bristol, Earl of, and Bishop of Derry 
 (Ernest- Augustus Hervey), 185, 
 192, 199, 211, 212 
 Bruce, Lady Charlotte, 2 
 Brun, Frederika, 281 
 Buonaparte, Elise, 267-269, 296, 302 
 Napoleon, the Emperor, 192, 
 228, 232, 233, 247, 254-257, 
 266-268, 282, 289, 290, 302, 
 307-309, 315 
 Byron, Lord, 277, 292, 326 
 
 Caluso, Abbe Tommaso di, 35, 57, 
 105, 128, 143, 145, 148, 177, 195, 
 230, 232, 240-242, 245, 246, 253, 
 263, 282, 300, 322 
 
 Camelford, Lord (Thomas Pitt), 
 163, 183-185 
 
 Camoens, 232, 282 
 
Index 
 
 Canova, Antonio, 139, 246, 248- 
 
 2 5 2 > 2 54> 2 7 J > 2 73> 277, 310 
 Abbe Gian-Battista, 248 
 Cantini, 113 
 
 Capponi, Marchese Gino, 277, 294 
 Carletti, Count, 199, 201, 275, 277 
 Caryll, Lord, 8, 9, 18 
 Castelfranco, Princess, see Stolberg 
 Castille, Baron de, 250 
 Ceri, Duke and Duchess of, 81 
 Cerretani, Chev. Alessandro, 239, 
 
 Cesarini, Monsignore Angelo (sec- 
 retary to Cardinal York), 139, 
 191 
 
 " Charles III.," see Stuart 
 Charles X., King of France, 340 
 Charles XII., King of Sweden, 36 
 Charles-Emmanuel, King of Sar- 
 dinia, 199, 237 
 Charlotte, Princess of Wales, 89,294 
 
 Queen, 165 
 
 Stuart, see Stuart 
 Chateaubriand, 243, 278, 280 
 Chenier, Andre, 155, 157 
 Churchill, Arabella, 5 
 Cicciaporci, Antonio, 212, 213, 215 
 
 Donna Anna, 212 
 
 Madame, 213 
 Cicognara, 316 
 Cimarosa, 83 
 Clarence, Duke of, 165 
 Clarke, General, Due de Feltre, 285 
 Clement XIII., Pope, 73, 82 
 
 XIV., Pope, 20 
 Clifford, Lord de, 171 
 Codint, 229, 281 
 Codronchi, Monsignore, 121 
 Coke of Norfolk, 27 
 Columna, Otho de, 1 
 Consalvi, Cardinal Ercole, 199, 277, 
 334 
 
 Conway, General, 168 
 Cornaro, Cardinal, 212 
 Corsini, Prince, 22, 71 
 Courier, Paul-Louis, 266, 273 
 Cumiana, Comte de, 238 
 
 Damiano, 128 
 
 Danby of Yorkshire, 27 
 
 Dante, 36, 54, 92 
 
 " Dante Ring," 186, 246, 323 
 
 Davey, Lady, 266, 277, 281 
 
 Sir Humphrey, 277 
 David, 155, 161, 186, 340 
 Delfino, Melchiorre, 234 
 Derby, Mrs., 281 
 
 Devonshire, Elizabeth Duchess of, 
 
 266, 277, 326 
 Didot, 158, 160 
 " Dissidenters," 170 
 Donatello, 251 
 Dugnami, Monsignore, 155 
 Dutens, Abbe, 27 
 
 Elci, Chev. Angelo d', 247 
 Elgin, Earl of, 2 
 Elia, 79,125-129, 137 
 Elphinstone, Miss (afterwards Lady 
 
 Keith), 284, 285 
 Elyot, 129 
 
 Etruria, Louis King of, 239 
 
 Queen of, 267 
 Everett, Mrs., 281 
 
 Fabre, family of, 208-210 
 
 Dr. Edouard, 209, 236, 241, 
 249, 260, 265, 323 
 
 Francois-Xavier, the painter, 
 career of ; birth and paren- 
 tage, 185 ; settles in Flo- 
 rence, 186 ; friendship with 
 Alfieri and Louise, 187, 188 ; 
 influence in Casa Alfieri, 260 ; 
 his relations with L r uise, 
 261-266 ; friendship with 
 Elise Buonaparte, 20; ac- 
 companies Louise o Rome 
 and Naples, 271-273 ; argu- 
 ment with P. L. Courier, 
 273 ; intimacy with Ugo 
 Foscolo, 296 ; constant ill 
 health, 324, 325 ; made 
 universal-heir of Louise, 334, 
 335 ; erects her monument 
 
 353 
 
Index 
 
 in Santa Croce, 338 ; founds 
 the Musee Fabre at Mont- 
 pellier, 339 ; his death, 340 ; 
 M. Garnier's eulogy upon 
 him, 340, 341 
 Musee, 53, 152, 169, 190, 265, 
 288, 323, 339, 340 
 Ferdinand III., Grand-Duke of 
 Tuscany, 228, 229, 239, 240, 
 330 
 
 Fitz-James, family of, 5, 333 
 
 Due de, 5, 8 
 Flahault, Comte de, 155, 180, 
 270 
 
 Comte Charles de (Nene), 282- 
 286 
 
 Comtesse Adele de (Madame 
 de Souza), 155, 156, 270, 282, 
 283, 286, 289, 332, 333 
 
 Flaxman, 250 
 
 Fleury, 232 
 
 Forbes, Bishop, 8 
 
 Foscolo, Ugo, the Poet, 187, 227, 
 234, 247, 260, 277, 286, 291, 
 315-320 
 Louise's letters to, 293-315 
 His Sepolcri quoted, 295 
 Fouche, 268 
 
 Frederick the Great, King of 
 Prussia, 2 
 
 Garnier, Monsieur, 340, 341 
 Gauthier, General, 229 
 Gazzetta di Firenze, 330, 331 
 Gehegan, 59 
 
 George III., King, 162, 163, 185, 
 246, 258, 259, 327 
 IV., King (Prince Regent), 165, 
 
 327 
 Gerard, 340 
 Gerdil, Cardinal, 82 
 Gianfigliazzi, family of, 189 
 Gillies, 232 
 
 Giovannozzi, Ottavio, 338 
 Girodet, 340 
 Gloucester, Duke of, 165 
 Goethe, 296 
 
 354 
 
 Gori-Gandellini, Francesco, 39, 41, 
 4 2 > 57, 8 5> 86, 92, 95, 105, 117, 
 119,157,158, 196 
 
 Gravina, Admiral, 255 
 
 Grimaldi, Duca di, 82, 121 
 
 Gros, 340 
 
 Guadagni, family of, 27 
 Gustavus III., King of Sweden, 
 109-111, 115, 116 
 
 Hag a, Count, see Gustavus III. 
 Hamilton, Lady, 273 
 Hawkesbury, Lord, 258 
 Henry VIII., King, 171 
 Herschel, Sir John, 172 
 Hippisley, Sir John, 213, 258 
 Holland, Lady, 92, 235 
 Homes, Princes de, family of, 1-3 
 
 Princess Elizabeth de, see Stol- 
 berg-Gedern 
 
 Prince Maximilian de, 2, 3 
 Howard, John, 171 
 
 " Iolair Dhearg," 21 
 
 Jamaica, Marquis of, 5-7 
 James II., King, 5, 162 
 
 III., King ("The Old Pre- 
 tender"), 12, 64, 167 
 Jesi, 277 
 
 Johnson, Charlotte, see Stuart 
 Josephine, Empress, see Beauhar- 
 
 nais 
 Josephus, 231 
 Journal des Debats, 326 
 Justinian, the Emperor, 1 
 
 Kaunitz, 9 
 Keith, Lord, 284, 285 
 Knight, Miss Cornelia, 89, 90, 266, 
 277, 281 
 
 Lagenswerd, 275 
 Lamartine, 280, 297 
 Lambertini, Prince and Princess, 
 121, 122 
 
Index 
 
 Lambertini-Bovio, Donna Giulia, 
 
 122 
 
 Lassberg, Baron von, 135 
 
 Laura de Noves, 48 
 
 Lecluze, Etienne de, 37, 323-326 
 
 Legion of Honour, 340 
 
 Leo X., Pope, 72, 78 
 
 Leoni, Michele, 282 
 
 Leopold I., Grand-Duke of Tus- 
 cany, 22, 58, 90 
 II., Grand-Duke of Tuscany, 
 330 
 
 Lerma, Duke of, 4 
 
 Ligonier, Lord, 33 
 
 Penelope Lady, 33, 34, 174, 175 
 
 Livre Rouge, Le, 109, no 
 
 London, Bishop of, 166 
 
 Louis XV., King of France, 164, 259 
 XVI., King of France, 178, 180 
 XVIII., King of France, 260, 
 309 
 
 Louis-Philippe, King, 285 
 
 Louise-Maximilienne-Caroline-Em- 
 manuele, Princess of Stol- 
 berg-Gedern and wife of 
 Prince Charles - Edward 
 Stuart, Count of Albany, 
 career of ; birth and bap- 
 tism, 3 ; education at Mons, 
 3-5 ; betrothal to Charles 
 Stuart, 7-9 ; her marriage, 
 9-1 1 ; arrival in Rome, 12 ; 
 first meeting with Cardinal 
 York, 12, 13 ; first residence 
 in Rome, 13-17 ; her title 
 of " Queen of Hearts," 17 ; 
 residence in Florence, 22-29 '■> 
 first meeting with Vittorio 
 Alfieri, 37 ; opening of her 
 romance with Alfieri, 47- 
 58 ; her flight from Charles 
 Stuart, 59, 60 ; her successful 
 appeal to Cardinal York, 62- 
 65 ; enters a Roman convent, 
 66 ; interview with Alfieri, 
 68 ; her appeal to Pius VI., 
 71 ; lives in the Cardinal's 
 
 official palace of the Cancel- 
 laria, 71 ; intimacy with 
 Alfieri in Rome, 73-80; 
 attends the performance of 
 Alfieri's Antigone, 83, 84 ; 
 belated anger of the Cardinal 
 against herself and Alfieri, 
 84-88 ; her misery after 
 Alfieri's expulsion from 
 Rome, 88 ; her conduct 
 criticised, 89-91 ; her sad 
 life at Genzano, 96, 103-105 ; 
 her legal separation from 
 Charles Stuart, 109-116; 
 she retires to Baden, 117 ; 
 thence to Colmar, 118 ; her 
 reunion with Alfieri, 118- 
 1 20 ; she winters at Bologna, 
 1 21-123 » ner dismissal of 
 Elia, 126 ; settles in Paris, 
 131 ; second meeting with 
 Alfieri at Colmar, 132 ; final 
 rupture with the Cardinal, 
 136-138 ; her lasting bitter- 
 ness against him, 139 ; settles 
 with Alfieri in Paris, 141- 
 143 ; nurses Alfieri through a 
 severe illness, 143-145 ; ren- 
 dered free by Charles Stuart's 
 death, 148, 149 ; but is never 
 married to Alfieri, 151-153 ; 
 her salon in the Rue de 
 Bourgogne, 154-156 ; visits 
 England with Alfieri, 162 ; 
 attends the court of George 
 III., 162, 165 ; travels in the 
 south of England, 169-173 ; 
 visits Flanders, 176 ; returns 
 to Paris, 177 ; escapes thence 
 with Alfieri, 1 78-1 80 ; settles 
 with Alfieri in Florence, 181 ; 
 early friendship with F. X. 
 Fabre, 185-188 ; her home 
 in Casa Alfieri, 189, 190 ; 
 her meeting with Teresa 
 Mocenni, 195 ; retirement 
 with Alfieri to a Florentine 
 
 355 
 
Index 
 
 villa, 229, 230 ; her intense 
 grief at Alfieri's death, 244, 
 245 ; her monument to 
 Alfieri in Santa Croce, 246- 
 252 ; her means and income, 
 254-256 ; her relations with 
 Napoleon, 256, 257 ; her 
 pension from George III., 
 258 ; failure to recover her 
 lost French annuity, 259 ; 
 her daily life with Fabre in 
 Casa Alfieri, 260, 265, 266 ; 
 her enforced residence in 
 Paris, 270, 271 ; visits Rome 
 and Naples, 271-273 ; her 
 salon in Casa Alfieri, 275-278 ; 
 her correspondents, 280-285 ; 
 friendship with Sismondi and 
 Foscolo, 286 ; daily life in 
 Florence, 321, 322 ; her 
 fatal illness, 328 ; her death, 
 330 ; her will, naming Fabre 
 her general heir, 333, 334; 
 her character, 335-337 ; her 
 monument in Santa Croce, 
 338 
 
 Her letters to Alfieri, 123 
 
 Alfieri, Countess Monica, 
 
 107, 108 
 Bonstetten, Carl-Victor, 
 
 21, 23-25, 279 
 Caluso, Abbe di, 230, 322 
 Canova, Antonio, 248, 249 
 Castille, Baron de, 250 
 Cerretani, Chev. Alessan- 
 
 dro, 223 
 Foscolo, Ugo, 247, 297-315 
 Gori, Francesco, 97-103 
 Luti, the Archpriest An- 
 
 sano, 222, 226, 227 
 Mocenni, Madame Teresa 
 
 (jointly with Luti), 17, 
 
 127, 139, 200-221, 231, 
 
 232, 236, 239, 240, 342- 
 
 350 
 
 Mocenni, Vittorio, 198, 
 224 
 
 356 
 
 Mocenni-Magiotti, Qui- 
 
 rma, 226 
 Villoison, Monsieur de, 
 
 244, 245 
 York, Cardinal of (Henry 
 
 Stuart), 70, 75, 87, 88, 
 
 111-115, 121-123 
 Letters from or concerning — 
 Beaumarchais, 157 
 Bristol, Lord, 192 
 Camelford, Lord, 184 
 Flahault, Comte Charles 
 
 de, 284, 285 
 Flahault, Comtesse Adele 
 
 de, 283, 332, 333 
 Hawkesbury, Lord, 258 
 Gustavus III., King, 115 
 Josephine, Empress, 254 
 Maltzam, Madame de, 34, 
 
 270, 271 
 Mann, Sir Horace, 57, 90 
 Martini, Archbishop, 61, 62 
 Sismondi, 251, 287-291, 
 
 293, 323 
 Stolberg-Gedern, Princess 
 
 Gustavine de, 328-330 
 Stuart, Charlotte, 129, 130 
 Walpole, Horace, 164-166 
 York, Cardinal of, 63-65, 
 112, 113 
 Pedigree of, xxiv., xxv. 
 Personal appearance of, 10, 17, 
 27, 37, 8o, 83, 93, 135, 136, 
 154, 165, 166, 187, 188, 275, 
 276, 278-280, 321, 322 
 Published writings of, Notes sur 
 Rubens, 176 
 Souvenirs de Voyage en 
 
 Angleterre, 169-173 
 Souvenirs de Voyage en 
 
 Italie, 272 
 Tragedie d'Oreste . . . di 
 Psipsia, 103 
 Lucchesini, Marchese, 199, 277 
 Luti, the Arch-priest Ansano, 40, 41, 
 117, 139, 190, 196,198,200,208, 
 213, 214, 216, 221-223, 226, 342 
 
Index 
 
 Machiavelli, 32, 318 
 
 Mackintosh, Lady, 292 
 Magiotti, Ferdinando, 219, 316 
 
 Major, 219, 227 
 Maltzam, Madame de, 24, 25, 34, 
 56, 59> 64, 77, 79, 104, 1 18-120, 
 132, 135,137, 144, 2 7°> 271,281 
 Mann, Sir Horace, 14, 18, 24, 26, 47, 
 
 48, 57, 58, 62, 71,89, 90, 109 
 Mansfeld, Princess Isabella of, 7 
 Maria Teresa, Empress-Queen, 2, 
 
 4> 6 > 9, 2 37 
 Marie Antoinette, Queen, 139, 161 
 Marie Louise, Empress, 308 
 Marefoschi, Cardinal, 9, 18 
 Marlborough, Duke of, 5 
 Martini, Archbishop of Florence, 
 
 60-62, 71, 84, 247 
 Masi, Gaetano, 334 
 Mastaing, Comte de, 4 
 Medici, Tombs of the, 251 
 Menon, General, 268 
 Metastasio, 36, 237 
 Mezzofanti, 235 
 Michelangelo, 189, 251 
 Millingen, James, 273, 277, 281 
 Milton, 231 
 
 Miollis, General, 199, 210, 229, 233, 
 
 237, 238, 272 
 Mocenni ; Ansano, 39, 197, 199, 201, 
 218, 221, 222, 227 
 Luisa Vittoria, 197, 207 
 Quirina (wife to Ferdinando 
 Magiotti), 208, 219, 220, 
 225-227, 294, 295, 314-320, 
 342 
 
 Teresa, 17, 39, 40, 117, 123, 
 138, 182, 193-195, 196-227, 
 230-232, 263, 342 
 
 Vittorio, 197, 202, 206, 224, 225 
 Molini, 300 
 
 Mongolfier Balloon, 105 
 Montaigne, 35, 52, 202, 214 
 Montesquieu, 41 
 Moore, Dr., 27 
 
 Thomas, the poet, 277, 326, 
 327 
 
 More, Hannah, 166, 167 
 Morgan, Lady, 326, 327 
 Morghen, 277 
 Morny, Due de, 285 
 Morrochesi, 234 
 Moscherni, 232, 233 
 Mount-Edgcumbe, Lady, 164 
 Murat, Joachim, 303, 312 
 
 Napoleon I., see Buonaparte 
 
 HI. 283 
 Nelson, Lord, 273 
 Nencini, La, 295, 299, 310 
 Nobili of Lucca, 122 
 Nuvoloni, 229 
 
 Odescalchi, family of, 81 
 " Order of Homer," 240, 241 
 Order of San Stefano, 39, 239 
 Orlandini, Madame, 59 
 
 Paoli, General de, 208 
 Pasquale, 326 
 Pasquino, statue of, 17 
 Percier, 338 
 Pestalozzi, 318 
 Petrarch, 36, 48, 54, 124 
 Pindemonte, Ippolito, 135, 157, 159, 
 181 
 
 Pitt, George, Lord Rivers, 33 
 Thomas, see Camelford 
 William, 163 
 
 Pius VI., Pope, 64, 66, 71 , 72, 78, 
 79, 85, 87, 89, 117, 186, 204, 
 220, 272 
 VII., 272 
 
 Pizzelli, Madame, 74 
 
 Plutarch, 44 
 
 Poerio Carlo, 282 
 
 Polidori, Gaetano, 132, 135 
 
 Prideaux, 232 
 
 Prie, Marchesa di, 35, 242, 262-264 
 Priestley, Dr., 170 
 Proly, Count, 129 
 " Psipsio 99 and " Psipsia," 85, 103, 
 118 
 
 357 
 
Index 
 
 Recamier, Madame, 268, 277 
 Rezzonico, Princess, 73, 82 
 Riario, Girolamo, 71 
 Rivers, Lord, see Pitt 
 Rocca, Monsieur, 259, 315 
 Roncioni, La, 295, 298, 300 
 Rose, Mr., 313 
 Rospigliosi, Princess, 82, 277 
 Rossellino, 251 
 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 132 
 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 41 
 Rubens, 176, 278 
 Russell, Lord John, 277 
 Ryan, Colonel, 8, 9 
 
 Salm, Princess Marie of, 4 
 Salm-Kyrburg, Princess of, 2, 7 
 San Clemente, Dukes of, 28 
 Santacroce, Princess, 82 
 Santa-Maria Madame, 216 
 Santarelli, Emilio, 338 
 Scherer, 25, 228 
 
 Sismondi, J. C. L. Simonde de, 250, 
 251, 277, 280, 286-292, 301, 302, 
 308, 312, 315, 323 
 
 Sixtus IV., Pope, 71 
 
 Sobieska, Queen Clementina, 8, 12, 
 64, 67 
 
 Sobieski-Stuarts, the, 21, 22 
 Sobiratz, Chev. de, 281, 286, 321 
 Souza, Madame de, see Flahaut 
 
 Monsieur de, 282 
 Stael, Madame de, 155, 156, 259, 
 
 268, 275, 277, 281, 292, 315, 
 
 326 
 
 Stamford, Earl of, 2 
 Stanhope, Earl, 163, 331 
 Sterne, Laurence, 300 
 Stolberg, family and connections of, 
 1,9 
 
 Stolberg-Gedern, Prince Gustavus- 
 Adolphus of, 1-4 
 Princess of (widow of the 
 above, nee Princesse Eliza- 
 beth de Homes), 1-9, II, 
 60, 91, 176, 207, 328, 331, 
 332 
 
 358 
 
 Carolina Augusta of (Duchess of 
 Berwick and Princess Castel- 
 franco),4-6, 131, 155, 331 
 
 Francoise Claudia of (Comtesse 
 d'Arberg), 155, 181, 183, 255, 
 331 . 
 
 Gustavine of, 2, 176, 255, 256, 
 
 328-331, 333. 
 
 Louise-Maximilienne-Caroline- 
 Emmanuele of, see Louise 
 Stuart (Major-Domo to Prince 
 Charles), III, 112 
 
 Prince Charles - Edward 
 ("Charles III., the Young 
 Pretender, the Chevalier, 
 Count of Albany ") ; mar- 
 riage and meeting with 
 Louise, 6-10 ; position in 
 Rome, 13-15 ; kindness to 
 his bride, 16 ; disappoint- 
 ment at absence of an heir, 
 18 ; decides to quit Rome, 
 20 ; resides in Pisa, 21 ; 
 settles in Florence, 22 ; un- 
 happy life in Florence, 26- 
 30, 47, 48, 56 ; buys Palazzo 
 Guadagni, 28 ; attitude to- 
 wards Alfieri, 49-51 ; his 
 ill-treatment of his wife, 57, 
 58 ; deserted by Louise, 59, 
 60 ; his efforts to regain her, 
 60, 61 ; his severe illness and 
 its results, 84 ; legally sepa- 
 rated from his wife, 108-1 1 5 ; 
 receives his natural daughter 
 Charlotte, 121 ; creates her 
 Duchess of Albany, 123 ; 
 his reconciliation with his 
 brother Henry, Cardinal 
 York, 136-138; his death, 
 148, 149 
 
 Descriptions of, 29, 46, 47, 98, 
 99, 108, 207 
 
 Charlotte (natural daughter of 
 the above and titular Duchess 
 of Albany), 19, 29, 1 21-123, 
 129-132, 136, 146, 148, 149 
 
Index 
 
 Henry Benedict (Cardinal-Duke 
 of York, younger brother of 
 Prince Charles Stuart) ; first 
 meeting with Louise, 11-13 ; 
 his advice to her, 14 ; gene- 
 rosity to the Walkenshaws, 
 19 ; quarrel with his brother 
 Charles, 20 ; protects Louise 
 against Charles, 63-65, 68- 
 70 ; places part of his palace 
 at her disposal, 71 ; warmly 
 champions her cause, 72 ; 
 his blindness to her intrigue 
 with Alfieri, 71, 73, 77, 81 ; 
 attends his brother's sick- 
 bed, 84 ; his indignation 
 aroused against Louise and 
 Alfieri, 85-88 ; his conduct 
 impugned and criticised, 89, 
 90 ; opposes Louise's efforts 
 for a legal separation, 112, 
 113 ; continued kindness to 
 Louise, 122; his attitude 
 towards Charlotte Stuart, 
 1 29, 1 30 ; final rupture with 
 Louise, 136, 137 ; his Memo- 
 rial concerning her misbeha- 
 
 viour, 138 ; Louise's spiteful 
 criticism of him, 138, 139, 
 199, 220 ; bequeaths a 
 legacy to Louise, 140 ; his 
 reported annoyance with her, 
 163, 164 ; his death with its 
 financial consequences, 257, 
 2 S 8 
 
 James, see James III. 
 
 Tasso, 36, 232 
 Theresa, St., 215 
 Torreggiani, 240 
 
 Valperga, Marchese di, 35 
 Venus dei Medici, 48 
 Villoison, Monsieur de, 244 
 Voltaire, 41, 74, 232 
 
 Walkenshaw, Clementina, 19 
 Walpole, Horace, 24, 164-166, 188 
 Wraxall, Sir Nathaniel, 6, 154, 155 
 
 Zagarolo, Duchess of, see Rospi- 
 gliosi 
 
 Zondadari, Cardinal-Archbishop of 
 Siena, 139, 199 
 
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