We had a constant succession of merry-makings.  There was a state performance at the San Carlo, with a ballet danced by very pretty figurantes, whose tights were pink to below their knees only, the rest was apple-green.  This detail was insisted on to spare the modesty of the management.  I am not aware whether the genuine article profited in any way by the rule.  When the San Carlo was over, we had San Carlino or Pulcinella.  This character, peculiar to the local stage (who is supposed to have originated in Acerra, as Arlequino did in Bergamo), supported by his inseparable companion Pancrazio, poked fun to his heart’s content, and in the raciest of burlesque, at all the latest Neapolitan occurrences and fashions, in a piece entitled Pulcinella alia Strada Ferrata.

There were balls to go to, when the theatres were over, at the palace, at the academy, and at our embassy.  In the daytime there were shooting parties at Capo di Monte or Caserta.  Those Neapolitan shooting parties are a thing of the past.  I have heard my brother-in-law, King Leopold, tell how once, when he had been invited by the King to a shoot of large and small game at Mondragone, at which, in the course of a few days, three thousand woodcock had been killed, besides other game, he stayed on for a day longer than the other sportsmen, and in one morning he brought down sixty woodcock put up by his dog, on the very ground that had just been shot over.

To wind up our stay at Naples we christened one of the Due de Montebello’s sons.  The ceremony was performed after the Italian fashion in a drawing-room belonging to the Prince of Salerno, himself a thorough Neapolitan, with his wit and exaggerated drolleries, and the uproar he made and caused wherever he betook himself.  This same uproar had already terrified the baby, when out of a sort of cupboard chapel a worthy chaplain, an old friend of my mother’s, Monsignore Corbi, was seen to advance.  The monsignore, who was exceedingly ugly, and very short in stature, had a huge mitre on his head, and looked so diabolical altogether that the child writhed in terror at the sight, and screamed in the most unearthly manner, while to quiet it the dignitary yelled in a squeaky voice, Bello, bello! ("Pretty, pretty!"), which only terrified it all the more.

On our way back from Naples we were caught in a violent gale outside the Straits of Bonifacio, which did some damage to the ship and demoralised the ladies.  In consequence of this, instead of going straight to Marseilles, where a brilliant reception was awaiting the Duchesse d’Aumale, we put in at Toulon.  There the Duchesse landed and went on to Marseilles by land, while I went round by sea.

But this did not suit the official masters of the ceremonies, and put out all their preparations for an ovation.  The arrival had been planned to be by sea, and by sea it must be, or everything would be spoilt.  So the poor Duchesse was taken quietly by a roundabout road to the old wet dock, where she was put on board, and after a slight detour, she arrived in approved nautical fashion, and disembarked at the foot of the Cannebiere “amidst a scene of indescribable enthusiasm,” as the official descriptions would say.