very house! "He has never seen anybody like you." These words
are still sounding in my ears, as if somebody were repeating
them constantly.
I was so gay at dinner that the princess had to reproach me
several times. After dinner we went again to pay some visits,
but we left the carriage only twice, as all the people were out
for the same purpose. We met in the streets, the carriages
stopped, sometimes several of them at one time, and cards were
exchanged amid much laughing, noise, and confusion. In the
evening it was still gayer when the pages and the torch-bearers
were moving about with their lights and brilliant uniforms.
There were even several accidents, but we fortunately arrived
safe. We returned home quite late. I went to sleep at once,
being very tired, but queer dreams flitted through my head.
The following day at noon, when I sat with the princess in the
drawing-room, beginning a new piece of work on the frame, the
chamberlain announced: "His Royal Highness the Duke of Courland."
The princess rose quickly, and hastened to meet him at the
entrance. I, in the first moment wanted to run away, but my wish to
see him was still stronger than my timidity, and I stayed. As soon
as he entered he approached me and inquired about my health. I
answered distinctly, although I felt very much embarrassed, and
when he sat near my working-frame, I had sufficient command of
myself to thread at once some very fine needles with rather coarse
silk, in spite of my trembling hands.
He praised my skill; stayed about half an hour, and although he
talked most with the princess, still he found an opportunity to
say many amiable things to me. I could thus ascertain that my
different dress did not change me in his eyes. He departed
saying that he hoped to see us the same evening at the ball. I
heard then that the Marquis d'Argenson, the French ambassador,
was giving a ball to which I was to go.
What a reception it was! Why, Basia's wedding was nothing in
comparison. And how highly educated are all these people in
Warsaw! Whenever they open their mouths it is to compliment, but
the duke's compliments surpass them all. He could not talk with
me as much as at the _bal-masque_, neither did I answer as
boldly. But then I was no longer the Goddess of the Sun, and
besides, it always happened that somebody was standing near us
as if to listen to what we were saying. I do not like it; it is
not nice, especially in well-bred people, to be inquisitive.
The princess is in high spirits; she was the only elderly lady
with whom the duke danced last night. The Prince Woivode is
more gracious to me than ever, but he seems to avoid any
questions from me or counselling me in any way. I look forward
with growing impatience to my dear sister's coming.
_Sunday_, January 5.
During the whole of yesterday, the duke, the balls, all my
dreams, everything went from my mind; all my thoughts were with
my sister, although I have not seen her yet. She arrived
yesterday morning and was taken suddenly ill. The princess
hastened at once to her house, but I was not allowed to go. I
spent the whole day in the most dreadful anxiety, and sent to
three churches to have masses said. At last, after midnight the
princess returned with the news that Basia was as well as could
be expected, and that she had a little daughter. This morning I
begged on my knees to be allowed to go there, but they said it
would not be proper, and that I should have to wait several
weeks. The Staroste came here for one moment, very happy to be a
father. The little girl is, they say, beautiful. If they would
only let me see her! She will be named Angela in honor of my
gracious Mother.
This morning the duke sent his congratulations and best wishes
for the little grand-niece. Oh! I am longing to see my sister.
_Wednesday_, January 8.
Basia is still in bed, but the news from her and her little
daughter is the best.
I have seen the duke once only; he was away hunting with the
king, but yesterday he appeared unexpectedly and stayed over an
hour. How good he must be, and how he loves his father! He spoke
about the late queen, his mother, with tears in his eyes. One
can see also that he loves Poland, and that he has a most noble
and valiant heart. Everything I ever heard of him is true; he is
not praised even enough; one cannot well describe the charm of
his voice, his sweet smile, and the look of his blue eyes, so
deep and so soft! I do not wonder that the Russian empress was
charmed with him,--that he carried away the hearts of the
Courland people; and I shall not be surprised if after his
father's death, Poland calls him to the throne. And he likes
me!... Sometimes I think that it cannot be. Still, yesterday his
eyes told me that so plainly; and not only his eyes, but some of
his words too, and the Prince Woivode also seems to think so.
The princess made me feel a little sad when, at table, she said,
with some meaning, it appeared to me, that "many women have
already pleased the duke" and that the last one he sees always
seems to him the most beautiful. But how childish I am! how
should that trouble me?
Am I the only pretty woman in this world? In my eyes the three
Warsaw belles, Mademoiselle Wessel, the Countess Potocka, and
the Princess Sapieha are without any comparison more handsome
than I. And what is more, they know how to enhance their beauty,
which is an art quite unknown to me. The duke says that that is
my great charm, but it seems to me that my complexion is quite
eclipsed by theirs. Especially at the ball in the French
embassy Madame Potocka was ravishing, and the duke danced with
her twice. Well, what right have I to be displeased with that?
_Sunday_, January 12.
I ought to be quite pleased now! At the ball of the Woivode of
Russ, last Thursday, the duke danced only with me. On Friday he
called here again. Yesterday he sent us by his aide-de-camp an
invitation for a new Italian opera, "Semiramide," given in the
court theatre, and there he devoted himself exclusively to me.
There I was also presented to the king, who was very gracious
and inquired about both my honored Parents. Still more, the
Staroste came here an hour ago announcing that the duke wished
to stand godfather to the little Angela, and desires me to be
the godmother,--me, nobody else; he insisted upon that.
The christening will be magnificent, in the royal Collegiate
Church. There were to be more couples invited to assist, but
out of respect to the duke the honor will be left solely to
him; the others will only be witnesses of the ceremony. Many
of the most distinguished persons will be invited. The whole
of Warsaw will talk about the affair, and certainly the
"Courier" will describe it, and our two names will stand there
together.
What will Madame Strumle and the young ladies in the school say
to that, and my honored Parents, and all the people in Maleszow,
and the good Matenko? I am sure he will say that it is because
of his predictions.
Oh, that Matenko! how often his words come to my mind. He is
responsible for all my troubles; but for his hints no foolish
notions would have entered my head. As it is, I do not feel two
days alike: sometimes the happy thoughts crowd around me, life
seems full of hope, and I hardly know that there is an earth
under my feet; then suddenly everything seems to fade, and my
heart feels heavy and so sad!
For instance, to-day when I was so enraptured at the news of
the christening, the princess mentioned,--I do not know
why,--that the law of the Church forbids the godparents to marry
each other, and I shuddered.
But what makes me feel really happy is that at last I shall see
my dearest sister. After the christening we go to her house.
_Wednesday_, January 15.
The ceremony took place yesterday and I have seen Basia, who
looks beautiful, although she has grown a little thin and pale.
She is always as good as an angel, and as happy as a queen.
The duke begged that the little girl be named after me, but
Basia was firm in her first purpose; and she was right, for this
honor was due to our gracious Mother. Thus the little girl was
christened "Angela;" she is a dear little thing, and she cried
during the whole ceremony, which is a good sign that she will
live to be aged. It was the first time in my life that I stood
as godmother; I did not know how to hold the baby, so the duke
had to help me. It seemed so queer to stand with him before the
altar surrounded by so many people, and to write down my name
next to his in the large book. Perhaps it was to this event that
Matenko's predictions referred.
Everybody is congratulating me on the great honor which befell
me. The duke is still more attentive than before, and a little
more familiar; he calls me "my beautiful partner," and the
little girl is always "our little Angela." He presented handsome
gifts to Madame Starostine and to me, and threw handfuls of gold
among the attendants and the poor in the church.
I for my part could not do so much, but the little embroidered
christening robe, my gift to Angela, has cost me more than a few
hours' work.
But I forget to speak about an important affair. The topic of
conversation in Warsaw has for some time been a hunting party
which the Prince Jerome Radzivill, the Hetman of the Lithuania
army, is preparing for the pleasure of the king and the duke.
He is spending thousands in order to make a grand display, and
has had the game brought from the forests of Lithuania, over 500
miles away. The fete will be to-morrow; the weather is fine and
the sleighing excellent. The duke wished to drive his "partner,"
and it shall be so. The four Warsaw belles--for I am counted now
as the fourth--will go in one sleigh, and the duke will be our
driver. All four will have costumes alike, but of different
colors,--long velvet coats, tight at the waist, trimmed with
sable, and small caps with fur to match. The Countess Potocka
has selected blue, the Princess Sapieha dark green, Mademoiselle
Wessel marroon, and I shall wear dark crimson.
It is a pity Basia will not see all this, but she is so happy
with her little Angela that she does not care for anything else.
_Friday_, January 17.
I have never in my life seen anything so magnificent as this
hunting party. We started at nine o'clock in the morning. One
could not possibly count all the horses and sleighs which were
assembled before the king's castle, but ours was the handsomest
of all, and we followed first after the king. The duke, in a
hunting costume of green velvet, looked superb!
We had a long drive far beyond the Church of the Holy Cross, to
Ujazdow. There, coming down the hill on which is built the city
of Warsaw, is a large field usually planted with wheat.[12] This
field was enclosed by a fence with a gate, ornamented with
escutcheons, devices, and inscriptions. In the middle stood an
iron kiosk into which the king and the duke entered. Near the
kiosk was a space covered with bear-skins for the most notable
men, and further on, an amphitheatre with an iron railing for
the ladies. The whole place looked like a forest, for except a
space left around the kiosk, the ground was covered with big
pine-trees planted for the occasion. In the background, one saw
the hills covered with a throng of spectators.
[12]That place is now Lazienki, with a park and a
charming little palace built by the last Polish
king, Stanislaus Poniatowski, for his summer
residence.
As soon as we arrived and took our seats the trumpets and the
horns gave the signal, and the hunters of the Prince Radzivill
let the wild beasts loose from the enclosure. There were bears,
deer, wild boars and wolves; the trained dogs chased them toward
the kiosk, and one cannot describe the howling and the roaring
of the wild animals, the barking of the dogs, the shrieking of
the ladies, and all the noise which ensued. The king himself
shot three wild boars; the duke killed much game, and fought a
bear with the spear, a proof of great strength and skill. The
skin of that bear was presented to me for a rug.
The hunt lasted until four o'clock in the afternoon; we had a
lunch served to us during that time. There were perhaps a
hundred hunters and game-keepers of the Prince Radzivill, all
dressed in red livery and armed with guns and pikes.
This entertainment was given in honor of the anniversary of the
coronation of the king; for the same purpose there will be a
ball to-night given by the Marshal of the Crown, Bielinski.
_Saturday_, January 18.
The ball was splendid. The duke was very gay and happy, as on
that day he received a diamond-star order from the king. I
danced a great deal and my feet are aching; but I am sorry that
I spoke of it, for now I shall have to stay at home and rest for
ten days. The princess fears that the incessant dancing and late
hours will injure my health; really, my cheeks have become
rather pale.
We received letters from Maleszow. My honored Mother deigned to
write to me herself, recommending earnestly that I be prudent
about my health and that I take the greatest care of my
reputation, so as to give no cause for the slightest reproach
for frivolity. She says that I ought not to believe all the
compliments I may hear, that often a young girl is called a
belle through some passing fancy, not because her beauty really
deserves it; and that it sometimes spoils her whole life, for
her head is turned, her expectations aim too high, and she may
be forsaken and laughed at in the end. I am sure that will never
be the case with me. My ambition may be ever so high, but nobody
shall know about my disappointment if it comes. Still I could
not help crying when I read that letter; I carry it with me and
often read it over. Happy is the young girl who never leaves her
parents' home! I often regret the old Maleszow Castle.
_Wednesday_, January 29.
At last the ten days of my retirement are over. There were four
balls during that time, and one of them a _bal-masque_, where I
was to appear in a Scotch quadrille with the three other belles.
But no entreaties of the duke or others could make the princess
relent; when she has said anything she never changes her
decision.
I was sorry to miss the balls, but no one looking at me would
have guessed it. It is true that the duke came here often, and
praised my patience and courage so much that it was a great
comfort. The hours spent in his company are delightful. He talks
about Saint Petersburg, or Vienna, where he also spent some
time; he describes the good people in Courland; and he always
knows how to put in a word the meaning of which, I think,
escapes all other ears but mine.
How well he knows the bad affairs of our country! It is only
through respect to his father that he does not dare to speak
about them openly. What a good king he would make! The princess
says that his extreme amiability has a particular aim,--to gain
partisans for the future,--and that if he were elected king, he
would perhaps not even look at us. I do not believe it. I can
see plainly that the princess is not in favor of him; she would
like rather to see a Lubomirski on the throne.
To-night there will be an entertainment at the Ladies Canonesses'; a
very agreeable house and much frequented. This order was founded by
the Countess Zamoyska, in imitation of the Ladies' Chapter House of
Remiremont in Lorraine. It is said that it originated from the pity
the countess felt for a young girl of a noble family, who was to be
married in spite of her dislike and even despair. She was an orphan
and had no inclination for the convent life, but her high birth
forbade her accepting a situation, so she was obliged to marry,
merely for a home. In order to give a shelter to other homeless
Polish girls, where they could lead a Christian life and be free
to marry according to their liking, the countess bought Maryville,
a large building once belonging to the Jesuits, and had it altered
into small apartments, with a common dining-room and large
reception-parlors; she endowed it and also completed an adjoining
chapel, erected by the Queen Mary Kasimir, the wife of John Sobieski,
in memory of his victory over the Turks near Vienna in 1685.
There are eleven canonesses and the abbess. In order to be
elected, the young girls must be fifteen years old, and prove
their nobility for six generations on both parents' sides. They
are addressed with the title of "Madame."
_Ash Wednesday_, February 19.
Thank God, the carnival is over! I see that one can grow tired
even with entertainments. There have been so many during the
last weeks that I felt in a continual whirl. I could do nothing,
nor think of anything else but dresses, visits, assemblies, and
other festivities. At first such a life seems amusing, but by
and by one feels disheartened, and in my life I have never known
such tedious hours as those I passed in the last fortnight. And
yet so many people think that I am so very happy, and they envy
me.
How beautiful the Countess Potocka looked at the ball last
night, dressed as a sultana! She was the queen of the ball, and
danced the whole evening. I danced only the first polonaise; I
hurt my foot and refused all the invitations. Toward the end the
duke came to ask me for a dance, but I did not care to dance
then. Thank God, the carnival is over!
_Saturday_, February 29.
A few words in haste: I am going unexpectedly to Sulgostow.
There was nothing said about it yesterday when the Staroste and
Basia came to take their leave, but this morning the Prince
Woivode came to my room and said that my sister and her husband
begged me to go with them; that I shall have a good rest there
and probably see my honored Parents, so I ought to go. I believe
that all the prince's advice tends to my good, so I did not
hesitate, but I am sorry the duke does not know anything about
it. Perhaps he will not mind it at all; perhaps he will not even
notice it, as there are so many pretty women in Warsaw; and the
Countess Potocka, she does not go away.
_Sunday_, March 15.
I returned two days ago. My diary was forgotten here in my desk, so
I could not write in Sulgostow. I was away a fortnight, but it seemed
much longer. My honored Parents are expected in Sulgostow in a few
days, but the Prince Woivode, who came for me, did not want to wait
even a few hours; we were almost flying on the road, with fresh
horses waiting at each station, and we reached Warsaw in one day.
The duke came the following morning; he looked pale, almost ill. He
gave me to understand that it was my sudden departure, without saying
good-bye, which made him feel so badly. He said almost bitterly that
"a friend deserves better treatment." I am sorry now that I went
away, and to be sincere, I was sorry for it more than once during
that fortnight, but the Prince Woivode says that it was for the best.
I must confess that often I do not understand him at all, but I obey
him blindly, for I feel that he is interested in my future. The
princess greeted me very graciously.
In Sulgostow I spent most of the time petting the little Angela,
and embroidering a cushion for the Christ's chapel, in order to
propitiate Heaven in a certain direction, which I do not dare
to name here. I worked assiduously; it seemed to me that every
stitch made the fulfilment of my wishes nearer, and now my work
is finished.
They celebrated with great magnificence the anniversary of
Basia's wedding in Sulgostow. How many changes in this one year!
_Thursday_, March 19.
Yesterday was one of the most pleasant days I can remember. The
duke was as gay and charming as at the beginning of our
acquaintance. He came here first in the morning, but only for a
moment, as he was going to a hunt with the king; then in the
evening, when we did not expect him at all, he ran in,--I think
he walked, as no carriage was heard,--and he stayed a few hours.
He is freer now to leave the castle, as his two brothers, Albert
and Clement, are in Warsaw, and they keep the king company.
The Duke Clement is said to be very good and religious, and he
is to enter the Church. It is quite right that the king, having
several sons, wishes to give one of them to the service of God,
but it is as well that it was not the lot of the Duke of
Courland.
_Tuesday_, March 24.
Although it is Lent, I have a delightful time; the duke runs in
as often as he can leave the Castle. He says that he rests here
from the etiquette of the court. But to-morrow will be the end
of all the worldly pleasure. The princess has a few rooms kept
for her in the Convent of the Holy Sacrament, and every year,
before Easter, she secludes herself for eight days in order to
be well prepared for confession. All the ladies do the same, and
I naturally shall accompany the princess. During eight days we
shall see only priests and nuns; we shall read only religious
books, and work for the Church or the poor.
_Holy Thursday_, April 2.
Our retirement is over, Easter confession is made, and I feel so
free in my mind and so quiet in my heart! I had an excellent
confessor, Father Bodue; he is all the fashion, as he is French,
but even in spite of fashion I would always choose him for my
director. He is a saint, and he is so wise! We had many and long
conversations with him. He knew so well how to speak to my heart
and make it humble and full of contrition, he was so convincing
when speaking of the voidness of the things of the world and the
dangers of it, that really there were moments when I wanted to
leave everything and become a sister of charity in his hospital.
I was just pacing my little cell thinking earnestly about it,
when my maid entered and whispered that she saw one of the
duke's hunters passing near the convent. My devout thoughts were
thus scattered and I could not grasp them again.
Still, Father Bodue told me also that one can be saved as well
in the world when living virtuously, and that such a life is
still more meritorious, as it is more difficult. Why, then,
should I shrink from it?
I really regret that this week is over, although we lived in
perfect seclusion. To-day we shall see everybody, as we are
going to the Castle for the ceremonies of Holy Thursday.
_Friday_, April 10.
Easter is over. I cannot say that those days were unpleasant,
but the quietude of thought and heart of one week ago, they are
mine no more. Moreover, my conscience has more than one thing to
reproach me for, so soon after my most earnest resolves!
For instance, that as early as Holy Thursday I was guilty of a
dreadful piece of vanity! Was such a thing ever heard of?
It occurred thus: when I was to put on my mourning-dress, as is
the custom in holy week, the princess entered my room followed
by two maids carrying a magnificent gown of white satin with a
long transparent veil, a wreath of white roses for my hair, and
a bouquet for my corsage. I was amazed, but the princess
explained that on Holy Thursday after Mass, said in the chapel
of the Castle, the king and all the assemblage go to a large
room where twelve poor men are sitting at table, and the king,
in imitation of Christ's humility, washes their feet and serves
them at dinner. During this ceremony, one of the society young
ladies is to make a collection for the poor. The king himself
appoints the young lady; this time he named me, and promised to
give the collected money to Father Bodue for his hospital, which
is being built. I felt overcome with joy hearing this, but it
was not because of the poor or Father Bodue; it was simply
vanity. I saw myself, not in a heavy black and unbecoming dress,
but clad in white, I alone among all the other women,--and thus
the handsomest of all! It was wicked, but my conscience feels
better now for having confessed it here.
The collection was extremely successful; I had over five
thousand ducats. The Prince Charles Radzivill alone, saying "My
love![13] one has to give something to such a fair lady," tossed
down five hundred gold pieces, so that the tray bent.
[13]The Prince Charles Radzivill had the habit of
beginning each sentence with the exclamation "My
love!" and therefore he himself was generally
called, "the Prince My-love." He was the wealthiest
magnate of Lithuania. After the dismemberment of
Poland, when all his estates were confiscated, he
emigrated to Paris and there bought the whole street
between his palace and the market, in order, as he
said, that his Polish cook might not lose his way.
That street, near the Louvre, has still the name of
"Rue Radzivill."