DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61284#0201
ARRIVAL IN ITALY
95
of the Revolution, he would have been classed by her with the man from
Grenoble !
When, in crossing the Alps, Madame Lebrun got out of the carriage
to see the glorious view more easily, she had two strange experiences. The
first was that, without any warning, a mass of rock was blasted out with
gunpowder, making a deafening noise which, echoing from rock to rock,
seemed to her “ truly infernal.” Later on, when, with some other travellers,
she was on the Mont Cenis road, a postillion came up to her and said,
“ Madame ought to take a mule. Walking here is too fatiguing for a lady
like yourself.” She answered that she was a workwoman, and quite accus-
tomed to walk. The man laughed at this, saying, “ Ah ! Madame is not
a workwoman; one knows who she is.” “ Well, and who am I, then?”
“You are Madame Lebrun, who paints to perfection, and we are very
glad to know that you are far from those wicked people.” It is possible
the Lyons coachman may have discovered the identity of his fare. If
not, the Paris Jacobins would appear to have known all along that a
“workwoman” who had started a few minutes after midnight on the
6th October was a distinguished woman whose chief work was painting
the portraits of the ladies of a now disbanded Court.
The first night at Turin was spent in a wretched inn, where there was
little or nothing for supper. However, the travellers were very tired, and
made up by sleep for want of food. Early the next morning Madame
Lebrun sent a note to Porporati, the engraver, who soon replied in person,
and insisted on her going with her child and governess to his house, where
he and his daughter of eighteen did everything possible to make them
comfortable. They also showed her the art galleries of the city, and took
her to the theatre, where she had the delight of seeing the Due de Bourbon
and the Due d’Enghien in one of the boxes. After a week’s stay at Turin
she went on, by way of Parma and Modena, to Bologna, at which place
she was, for a moment, thrown into despair. At the inn where she
intended to stop for a week or ten days, she was unpacking her scanty
luggage when the landlord saw her, and said, “You are taking a useless
trouble, Madame, for, being French, you cannot stay more than one night
here.” Just then a tall man, of very serious aspect and sombre costume,
came into the inn, bearing a paper which she supposed to be an order to
quit the town within twenty-four hours. Happily her fears were more
than groundless, for the paper was a permit to stay in Bologna as long as
she pleased.
95
of the Revolution, he would have been classed by her with the man from
Grenoble !
When, in crossing the Alps, Madame Lebrun got out of the carriage
to see the glorious view more easily, she had two strange experiences. The
first was that, without any warning, a mass of rock was blasted out with
gunpowder, making a deafening noise which, echoing from rock to rock,
seemed to her “ truly infernal.” Later on, when, with some other travellers,
she was on the Mont Cenis road, a postillion came up to her and said,
“ Madame ought to take a mule. Walking here is too fatiguing for a lady
like yourself.” She answered that she was a workwoman, and quite accus-
tomed to walk. The man laughed at this, saying, “ Ah ! Madame is not
a workwoman; one knows who she is.” “ Well, and who am I, then?”
“You are Madame Lebrun, who paints to perfection, and we are very
glad to know that you are far from those wicked people.” It is possible
the Lyons coachman may have discovered the identity of his fare. If
not, the Paris Jacobins would appear to have known all along that a
“workwoman” who had started a few minutes after midnight on the
6th October was a distinguished woman whose chief work was painting
the portraits of the ladies of a now disbanded Court.
The first night at Turin was spent in a wretched inn, where there was
little or nothing for supper. However, the travellers were very tired, and
made up by sleep for want of food. Early the next morning Madame
Lebrun sent a note to Porporati, the engraver, who soon replied in person,
and insisted on her going with her child and governess to his house, where
he and his daughter of eighteen did everything possible to make them
comfortable. They also showed her the art galleries of the city, and took
her to the theatre, where she had the delight of seeing the Due de Bourbon
and the Due d’Enghien in one of the boxes. After a week’s stay at Turin
she went on, by way of Parma and Modena, to Bologna, at which place
she was, for a moment, thrown into despair. At the inn where she
intended to stop for a week or ten days, she was unpacking her scanty
luggage when the landlord saw her, and said, “You are taking a useless
trouble, Madame, for, being French, you cannot stay more than one night
here.” Just then a tall man, of very serious aspect and sombre costume,
came into the inn, bearing a paper which she supposed to be an order to
quit the town within twenty-four hours. Happily her fears were more
than groundless, for the paper was a permit to stay in Bologna as long as
she pleased.