May 7, 1838.—Dined yesterday at B——’s
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The other anecdote related more immediately to the Duke himself, and is of great interest and
importance, as his own life or death was involved in it. He had been persuaded
to try a beautiful white charger, which he proceeded to
do, attended by one person only (an orderly, I think B—— said); and, without much thinking where he was riding, he
suddenly came right in front of the French piquet, who, seeing the white charger, and supposing that it was some one of
consequence, and that they were part of a larger
| LAMAN BLANCHARD. | 247 |
B—— then related another story arising out of these
military recollections. When he was at Naples, three or four years ago, he was
introduced personally to the King, who has not an idea in his head but of military matters, and who delights in nothing but in
“playing at soldiers.” And not supposing that it could be deemed
worth while by the people about him to present any foreigners but such as had
distinguished themselves in a military way, he took it
for granted B—— was a military hero, and treated him
accordingly. “You are very young, Mr.
B——,” he said, “were you at Waterloo?”
(Mr. B. was about ten years old when Waterloo was
fought.) “I do not recollect your name in connexion with any
remarkable events,
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On hearing this anecdote, Hunt said, “We’ve heard of some one who was said to have abused the privilege which his countrymen had of being ugly. This gentleman seems to have abused the privilege which kings have of being ignorant.”
B—— said some one (at the party where he met the Duke, whom he described as having been singularly pleasant and communicative) asked him whether he observed anything in the tactics of Napoleon at Waterloo, the only occasion where he had met him, which indicated any of that vast superiority which was attributed to his military talents by many. He said—no, nothing whatever; and he expressed his distinct opinion that Napoleon was a very clever commander, but nothing
* His Majesty, we must suppose, did not mean to pun. |
| LAMAN BLANCHARD. | 249 |
The talk after dinner was chiefly learned—a great deal too much so to be either amusing or clever. It was begun by ——, who dawdled out some question to B—— about the mode of pronouncing Greek, by the modern Greeks, who seem to Frenchify it (so to speak), getting rid of all the richness and grandeur—in other words, all the mouthings of it.
In the course of this conversation, Hunt referred to some of the crotchets of the Greek and Latin poets, or rather versifiers; and to one in particular, who wrote a Latin poem, consisting of three hundred lines, every word of which begins (for it is extant, I think he said) with the letter P. He repeated two or three of the lines. * * *
The talk up-stairs, which formed itself into little committees
of three and four, was very
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There was also another very interesting discussion, in which
he took a leading part, namely, on the character of Lord Bacon—the bad parts of which he defended nobly and
beautifully, as did B—— also; he (Hunt), however, contending that Bacon
never went beyond the point of being able “to
justify his deeds unto himself;” whereas B—— held
that he stuck at nothing to gain
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Hunt started a theory about poetry,—that it was the result of immediate feeling, and nothing else; that there was no such thing as a poetry of thought. Thought, he said, was merely the reflection of feeling—feeling at second hand; and, in illustrating his theory, he went on as follows, giving it as an instance of the poetry of feeling:—“One of my boys had been out walking, and on his return he could not get in; for we (meaning all the rest of the family) were out, and the servant, it appeared, was asleep. At last, he got in—[at the window, I suppose, for I did not understand exactly how, she being asleep and nobody else at home] and there he found her, as he said, lying asleep on a sofa, crouched up, looking hot and furious.” This was what he gave as an instance of the poetry of feeling.
Another little incident I had almost forgotten.
—— and —— were expatiating
together on the bust of Dante, tracing very
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I would have refrained from putting down this little anecdote, if it were not that I look upon it as a very curious and valuable instance of the power of the imagination in cases of this nature. In fact, with a thorough knowledge and an intense perception of any human character, you rosy fancy you see the traces of it in almost any face.
