ROYAL HOBBIES
Whether it be Nero constructing his hydraulic clocks, or Prince Rupert
experimenting in his laboratory, or Philip of Burgundy contriving houses
full of _diableries_, such as hidden trap-doors, undermined floors, and
the like, we find the same habit illustrated among rulers of every age
and country. When it was suggested to Dr. Johnson that kings must be
unhappy because they are deprived of the greatest of all satisfactions,
easy and unreserved society, he observed that this was an ill-formed
notion. “Being a king does not exclude a man from such society. Great
kings have always been social. The King of Prussia, the only great king
at present”--this was the Great Frederick--“is very social; Charles the
Second, the last King of England who was a man of parts, was social; our
Henries and Edwards were all social.”
And this is specially the case with the amusements of royalty, which
have oftentimes been of the most rough and arduous nature. But, as Lord
Brougham once remarked, “Blessed is the man who has a hobby-horse;” and
Cæsar wrote, “Under my tent, in the fiercest struggles of war, I have
always found time to think of many other things”--a habit which has
been recognised as a secret of strength.
A hobby which was destined to have an unforeseen result was that of
Peter the Great for boat-building, which manifested itself when he was
sixteen years of age, and was accidental. When wandering one day about
one of his country estates near the village of Ismaílovo with his
companion Timmermann, he espied an old storehouse, on ransacking which
with boyish curiosity his eye fell on a boat that lay in a corner,
turned bottom upward.
“What is that?” he inquired.
“That is an English boat,” replied Timmermann; “and if you had sails in
it, it would go not only with the wind, but against the wind.”
But the boat was too rotten for use, and some time necessarily had to
elapse before the little craft was put in working order with a mast and
sails. The difficulty, however, was soon overcome by Carsten Brandt, who
some years previously had been brought from Holland by the Tsar Alexis
for the purpose of constructing vessels on the Caspian Sea, and under
his superintendence it was launched on the river Yaúza; “And mighty
pleasant it was to me,” writes Peter in the preface to the “Maritime
Regulations,” where he describes the beginning of the Russian navy.
Henceforth his mind was intent upon boat-building and navigation, and in
the year 1691 he went to Lake Plestcheief, where he remained for a
fortnight in a small palace built for him on the shore of the lake. “It
was,” according to Eugene Schuyler,[56] “a small, one-storey wooden
house, with windows of mica, engraved with different ornaments, the
doors covered for warmth with white felt;” and here he occupied himself
with building a ship, and worked so zealously that he was “unwilling to
return to Moscow for the reception of the Persian ambassador, and it was
necessary for Leo Naŕyshkin and Prince Boris Golitsyn to go expressly to
Pereyaslávl to show him the importance of returning for the reception,
in order not to offend the Shah.” The boat which he found at Ismaílovo
has ever since borne the name of the “Grandsire of the Russian Fleet,”
and is preserved with the greatest care in a small brick building near
the cathedral of SS. Peter and Paul within the fortress of St.
Petersburg. In the year 1870, on the celebration of the two hundredth
anniversary of his birth, it was one of the chief objects of interest in
the great parade of St. Petersburg; and in 1872 it was conveyed with
much pomp and ceremony to Moscow, where for a time it formed a part of
the Polytechnic Exposition.
But, as it has been observed, “perhaps one of the most interesting and
extraordinary circumstances in the history of mankind is that the
despotic monarch of a mighty dominion should descend from his throne and
travel as a private person in the train of his own ambassador sent to
Holland. On arriving there, he first took up his abode in the Admiralty
at Amsterdam, and afterwards enrolled himself among the ship-carpenters,
and went to the village of Sardam, where he wrought as a common
carpenter and blacksmith with unusual assiduity, under the name of
Master Peter. He was clad and fed as his fellow-workmen, for he would
not allow of vain distinctions.”
In the following year he passed over to England, where, in the space of
four months, he completed his knowledge of shipbuilding. After receiving
every mark of respect from William III., he left this country
accompanied by several English shipbuilders and carpenters, whom he
treated with great liberality in his naval dockyards, and subsequently
he is said to have written several essays on naval matters.
John Evelyn, in his Diary, alludes to the Emperor’s visit, and under
January 1698 makes this entry: “The Czar of Muscovy being come to
England, and having a mind to see the building of ships, hired my house
at Say’s Court, and made it his Court and palace, new furnished for him
by the King.”
And while the Emperor was in his house one of Evelyn’s servants thus
wrote to him: “There is a house full of people, and right nasty. The
Czar lies next your library and dines in the parlour next your study. He
dines at ten o’clock and six at night, is very seldom at home a whole
day, very often in the King’s yard or by water, dressed in several
dresses. The King is expected here this day; the best parlour is pretty
clean for him to be entertained in. The King pays for all he has.”
Peter the Great was also in the habit of frequenting the different
workshops and manufactories, and among the places he frequently visited
were the forges of Müller at Istia. It was here that he employed himself
in learning a blacksmith’s business, succeeding so well that on one
occasion he forged eighteen poods of iron, putting his own particular
mark on each bar, one of which is preserved at St. Petersburg. One of
his predecessors, Feodor, son of Ivan IV., exercised his strength by
ringing church bells, which was one of his favourite hobbies.
Alexander III. of Russia also took great delight in manual labour, and
one of his favourite pastimes was to fell huge trees, saw them into
planks, plane them, and generally prepare them for the cabinet-maker.
His physique, which was exceptionally powerful, enabled him to indulge
in this hobby. Some idea of his strength may be gathered from the fact
that he could twist and break thick iron pokers and bars with his hand,
render pewter tankards into bouquet holders, whereby he justified his
title of the “Russian Samson.” In his younger days he was able to bend a
bar of iron across his knees, or to burst in a strong door with his
shoulder. In this respect he was not unlike William the Conqueror, of
whom it is said that no one but himself could bend his bow, and that he
could, when riding at full speed, discharge a long-bow with unerring
aim. And Edward I., it is reported, was so adroit and active, that he
could leap into his saddle by merely putting his hand on it. Charlemagne
is reputed to have been so strong as to be able to take a horse-shoe in
his hands and snap it. Augustus the Strong of Saxony was a man of
herculean muscular powers, who could lift weights, straighten
horse-shoes with his two hands, and go through other exercises which
astonished his subjects. And such was the muscular strength of Don
Sebastian that, by the mere pressure of his knees, he could make his
charger groan and sweat; and it may be added that all manly exercises
which required vigour and agility were favourite hobbies of Don
Sebastian. When the “wind blew hurricanes and the waves dashed wildly
over the bar of Lisbon, the inhabitants of the capital watched often
with eager suspense the progress of a small vessel, having at the main
the royal standard, as it ploughed its way through the foaming waters,
for on board that frail ship was the hope of the nation, King Don
Sebastiaõ. ‘There is no bravery, nor merit, nor profit to be gained by
going on board in a calm,’ replied the King to the expostulation of his
Council.”[57] It may be added, too, that Cymburga of Poland, who was
married to Ernest the “Iron,” cracked her nuts with her fingers, and
when she trained her fruit trees, she hammered the nails into the wall
with her clenched knuckles.
The Albanian Prince, George Castriot, better known as Scanderbeg, was a
strong man, for he could cut off a bull’s head at a single stroke.
Mahomed II. invited him to send the sword which had performed so
remarkable an exploit. It was sent, but the Sultan, finding that it
differed not from any other weapon of the kind, expressed his
dissatisfaction. Scanderbeg retorted that he had sent him his sword as
desired, but could not send the arm which had wielded it.
Charles V. of Spain had a decided taste, and, as it would seem, talent
for mechanical pursuits, and when in Germany had invented a carriage for
his own accommodation. After his abdication he would often amuse
himself, with his companion Torriano, in making little puppets--soldiers
performing their exercises, girls dancing with their tambourines, and if
the account be true, wooden birds that could fly in and out of the
window.[58] When he entered Nuremberg, of the many forms of welcome
which he there encountered, none pleased him more than the artificial
eagle which flew to meet him.[59]
He had also a turn for the mathematical sciences, and, like Louis XVI.,
a passion for timepieces; and the difficulty which he found in adjusting
his clocks and watches is said to have drawn from the monarch a
philosophical reflection on the absurdity of his having attempted to
bring men to anything like uniformity of belief in matters of faith,
when he could not make any two of his timepieces agree with each other.
On one occasion the _maître d’hôtel_, much perplexed how to devise a
daily supply of rich and high-seasoned dishes to suit his palate, told
his royal master--knowing his passion for timepieces--that “he really
did not know what he could do, unless it were to serve up his Majesty a
fricassee of watches.” And like her illustrious relative, Charles V.,
Queen Mary had a decided taste for clocks, for they form a prominent
article in her yearly expenditure.
And among the many great and useful problems which Charles discussed
with Torriano, mention is made of a bold and gigantic project, which was
duly accomplished after his death by Gianello, and consisted in raising
the waters of the low-lying Tagus to the heights of Toledo. According to
Bourgoing, the remains of this ingenious machine are still to be seen on
the high rocky peninsula occupied by the city; and, near them, “ruins
still more ancient, which must have formed part of an aqueduct designed
to convey water to the height of Alcazar, from springs seven or eight
leagues distant--a legacy at once useful and magnificent, by which the
Romans have marked their residence in more than one place in Spain.”
Speaking of Louis XVI.’s taste for mechanics, we are told how over his
private library were a forge, two anvils, and a vast number of iron
tools, various common locks, as well as some of a secret and elaborate
kind. It was here that “the infamous Gamin, who afterwards accused the
King of having tried to poison him, and was rewarded for his calumny
with a pension of twelve hundred livres, taught him the art of
lock-making. When teaching the King his trade, Gamin took upon himself
the tone and authority of a master.” The King, according to Gamin, “was
good, forbearing, timid, inquisitive, and addicted to sleep; he was fond
to excess of lock-making, and he concealed himself from the Queen and
the Court to file and forge with me. In order to convey his anvil and my
own backwards and forwards, we were obliged to use a thousand
stratagems, the history of which would never end.”[60]
In his private apartments were his collection of instruments, charts,
spheres, globes, and also his geographical cabinet. And, in addition to
these, there were to be seen drawings of maps which he had begun, and
others that he had finished. He inherited some from Louis XV., and he
often busied himself in keeping them clean and bright.[61]
We may note that amongst the earliest pieces of modern mechanism
associated with royalty was a curious water-clock presented to
Charlemagne by the Kaliph Haroun al Raschid. In the dial-plate there
were twelve small windows, corresponding with the divisions of the
hours. The hours were indicated by the opening of the windows, which let
out little metallic balls which struck the hour by falling on a brazen
bell. The doors continued open till twelve o’clock, when twelve little
knights, mounted on horseback, came out at the same instant, and, after
parading the dial, shut all the windows, and returned to their
apartments.
Another automaton was that of the philosopher John Müller, and most
elaborate, consisting of an artificial eagle which flew to meet the
Emperor Maximilian when he arrived at Nuremberg on the 7th of June 1470.
After soaring aloft in the air, the eagle is stated to have met the
Emperor at some distance from the city, and to have returned and perched
upon the town gate, where it waited his approach. On the Emperor’s
arrival the eagle stretched out its wings, and saluted him by an
inclination of its body.
A piece of mechanism of an elaborate nature was made by M. Camus for the
special amusement of Louis XIV. when a child. It consisted of a small
coach, which was drawn by two horses, and contained the figure of a lady
within, with a footman and page behind. When this machine was placed at
the extremity of a table of the proper size, “the coachman smacked his
whip, and the horses instantly set off, moving their legs in a natural
manner, and drawing the coach after them. When the coach reached the
opposite edge of the table, it turned sharply at a right angle, and
proceeded along the adjacent edge. As soon as it arrived opposite the
place where the King sat it stopped, the page descended and opened the
coach door, the lady alighted, and with a curtsey presented a petition,
which she held in her hand, to the King. After waiting some time, she
again curtsied and re-entered the carriage. The page closed the door,
and having resumed his place behind, the coachman whipped his horses and
drove on. The footman, who had previously alighted, ran after the
carriage and jumped up behind into his former place.”[62]
Louis XIV. had an inordinate passion for jewels. His most costly
possession was the famous crown of Agrippina, a work of consummate art,
composed of eight tiers of immense brilliants in a transparent setting.
In his private cabinet Louis XIV. “had two immense pedestals of
rosewood, in the interior with shifting shelves, in which he kept the
most precious of the crown jewels, in order that he might examine and
admire them at his ease, an occupation in which he took great delight,
nor did he ever hear of a gem of price, either in Asia or Europe,
without making strenuous efforts to secure the prize.”
But this crown was the cause of a tragic and apparently mysterious
occurrence. When the Princess of Modena passed through France on her way
to England, where she was about to become the wife of the Duke of York,
Louis gave her a costly reception, nothing on his part being left undone
to make her brief sojourn at his Court as enjoyable as possible. It
happened that the conversation turned on the forms and fashions of
jewellery, which prompted the Marquis de Dangeau, who prided himself on
his antiquarian knowledge, to observe that it was in the time of Nero
the imperial crown was first arched, whereupon Louis added that he
possessed one himself, and which the Marchioness de Montespan would
produce. In due time the glittering circlet was brought forth to excite
universal admiration; but when Louis obtained a close view of it, he
exclaimed to the Marchioness, “How is this, madam? This is no longer my
crown of Agrippina; all the stones have been changed.” The setting was
intact, but the brilliants had been replaced by paste.
The mystery was before long solved, it being proved that the maker of
the casket had affected an attachment for one of the waiting-women of
the Marchioness de Montespan, who during his visits, having free access
to where the crown of Agrippina was kept, had substituted the mock for
the true diamonds. He was convicted and hanged, upon which occasion
Louis XIV. remarked to the Duchess, “He has at least left us the
setting, but Cromwell would have seized it whole.”[63]
The Elector Frederick, surnamed “the Wise,” was an indefatigable
collector of relics. After his death one of the monks employed by him
solicited payment for several parcels he had purchased for “the wise
Elector; but the times had changed. He was advised to give over this
business. The relics for which he desired payment, it was argued, they
were willing to return; that the price had fallen considerably since the
Reformation of Luther; and that they would be more esteemed and find a
better market in Italy than in Germany.”[64]
The only expensive personal fancy, it is said, of Frederick the Great
was for collecting snuff-boxes, of which he left as many as one hundred
and thirty, valued at one million three hundred thousand dollars. Lord
Malmesbury says that “one could hardly approach the King without
sneezing.” Two thousand pounds weight of Spanish snuff had always to be
kept in store. Smoking, on the other hand, says Vehse,[65] “was an
abomination to Frederick ever since the tobacco in his father’s time.” A
female sovereign who indulged in this habit was Catherine II. of Russia.
And in the reign of Alexis the penalty for a man who smoked a pipe of
tobacco was to have his nose cut off. This sovereign seems to have had a
great dislike of tobacco, but times were to change, and a well-known
portrait of Peter the Great represents him sitting in a sailor’s dress
enjoying a pipe.
Augustus the Strong of Saxony was a great china fancier, and his
credulity in the transmutation of metals was accidentally the cause of
the discovery of the celebrated Dresden ware. An apothecary’s lad, named
Böttiger, composed a tincture that was supposed to be capable of being
transformed into gold. But the reputation of a successful alchemist was
fatal to his liberty, and the lad of seventeen was by order of Augustus
placed under lock and key, with a complete laboratory at his disposal--a
restraint which almost made him mad. The Governor of Konigstein reported
on the 12th of April 1702 that “he foamed at the mouth like a horse,
roared like a bull, knocked his head against the wall, and trembled so
violently that two soldiers could not hold him. He considered the
commandant to be the Archangel Gabriel; he blasphemed, and drank twelve
cans of beer a day without getting drunk.”
Accordingly, the lad was removed to Dresden, where he was allowed a
certain liberty, and owing to his flow of animal spirits he had the art
of enchanting every one he met. Augustus himself sought his
acquaintance, without giving him full liberty. It was whilst pursuing
his experiments that Böttiger discovered the Meissen porcelain--commonly
called Dresden china--which to Augustus, who, as already stated, was a
great china fancier, was as welcome as gold itself, for he had expended
vast sums on what is known as the Japan Palace. Many workmen were
engaged from Delft to work the new ware, and in 1710 the manufactory of
Meissen commenced the supply of the demand, which soon became European.
Böttiger’s fortune and reputation were made, for henceforth he had
access to the King as often as he chose, who gave him a ring with his
effigy, a young bear, two apes, and credit with the royal banker. And in
1715 he not only obtained his full liberty, but the profits of the
porcelain manufactory for life. But he proved himself unequal to
success, and he died of his excesses at the early age of
thirty-four.[66]
Ludwig II. of Bavaria was a most inveterate builder, and in the course
of a few years he built the castle of Neuschwanstein, and the palaces of
Linderhof and Herrenchiemsee, the last intended by him to be a monument
to Louis Quatorze, “who was the supreme God of his mad Olympus.” True to
his love of nocturnal expeditions, Ludwig arrived at Chiemsee at
midnight, but in spite of all its splendour he failed to find much
comfort there, set down as this gorgeous castle was in a wilderness far
away from everywhere, and at last he only spent nine days in every year
here.
Another sovereign who became a great builder was Stanislaus Leczinski,
who, to gratify his hobby, demolished churches, chapels, ducal palaces,
castles, towers, and town-houses. According to some, his greatest glory
is the Church of Notre Dame de Bon Secours, in which he and his consort,
Caroline Opzinska, were entombed. But, writes Dr. Doran, “antiquaries
see in this building the ex-king’s greatest crime; for in order to
construct it, he demolished the famous old church of the same name,
erected by René II., Duke of Lorraine, in gratitude for his victory over
Charles, Duke of Burgundy, in 1477, won on the very spot.” The story
goes that an honest plasterer, who lived in sight of the old church, was
so indignant at the profanation that he walled up his windows that his
eyes might not be offended by the continual sight of what was going on.
Then there was Henry IV. of France, whose taste for building conduced
much to the improvement of his capital.