composed all his retinue. He
shunned expenditure, more however from inclination than economy. He
avoided all kinds of dissipation, and up to the age of thirty-five years
had resisted the numerous allurements of this voluptuous city. To the
charms of the fair sex he was wholly indifferent. A settled gravity and
an enthusiastic melancholy were the prominent features of his character.
His affections were tranquil, but obstinate to excess. He formed his
attachments with caution and timidity, but when once formed they were
cordial and permanent. In the midst of a tumultuous crowd he walked in
solitude. Wrapped in his own visionary ideas, he was often a stranger
to the world about him; and, sensible of his own deficiency in the
knowledge of mankind, he scarcely ever ventured an opinion of his own,
and was apt to pay an unwarrantable deference to the judgment of others.
Though far from being weak, no man was more liable to be governed; but,
when conviction had once entered his mind, he became firm and decisive;
equally courageous to combat an acknowledged prejudice or to die for a
new one.
As he was the third prince of his house, he had no likely prospect of
succeeding to the sovereignty. His ambition had never been awakened;
his passions had taken another direction. Contented to find himself
independent of the will of others, he never enforced his own as a law;
his utmost wishes did not soar beyond the peaceful quietude of a private
life, free from care. He read much, but without discrimination. As his
education had been neglected, and, as he had early entered the career of
arms, his understanding had never been fully matured. Hence the
knowledge he afterwards acquired served but to increase the chaos
of his ideas, because it was built on an unstable foundation.
He was a Protestant, as all his family had been, by birth, but not by
investigation, which he had never attempted, although at one period of
his life he had been an enthusiast in its cause. He had never, so far
as came to my knowledge, been a freemason.
One evening we were, as usual, walking by ourselves, well masked in the
square of St. Mark. It was growing late, and the crowd was dispersing,
when the prince observed a mask which followed us everywhere. This mask
was an Armenian, and walked alone. We quickened our steps, and
endeavored to baffle him by repeatedly altering our course. It was in
vain, the mask was always close behind us. "You have had no intrigue
|