courtesy which I had to make before every person, but by and by
I grew bolder, and on that day the lessons of my dancing-master
proved to be really useful. The marshal of the court accompanied
me telling the names of the persons we were approaching, and
when the tray grew too heavy he emptied it into a bag carried by
the king's page.
My ears were filled with compliments. The duke told me that it was
fortunate that I begged for money, not for hearts, as every man would
have to give me his. "I would never ask for such a thing," I answered;
"for who would value a heart begged for?" He seemed pleased with my
answer,--I wonder how he could imagine that I should think otherwise.
A woman to beg for a heart--even of the king himself,--why! it would
be a shameful, base thing. To accept it, when it is offered to her,
earnestly and honorably, that is another thing.
But again my thoughts are wandering. To return to my narrative;
the ceremony of the washing of the feet was very touching. I
have still before my eyes the king as he was bending over the
feet of the poor old men, and as he stood behind their stools at
dinner. Moreover, our Augustus III., although no longer young,
is very handsome and stately, and everything he does is done in
a proper manner. The Duke Charles is quite the likeness of his
father.
On Good Friday, we went, dressed in deep mourning, to visit the
Holy Sepulchre. We were in seven churches, saying in each of
them five Paters and five Aves in honor of the five wounds of
Christ; in the cathedral I knelt one hour before the holy
Sacrament.
On Saturday evening there was a grand "Resurrection Service" in
the cathedral; the music by the court orchestra was admirable.
The Easter table in our house was sumptuous, and until yesterday
the tables remained covered with all kinds of meat and pastry.[14]
Who would have thought one year ago, when, on the third day after
my arrival at the boarding-school, I was sitting at the poor Easter
table feeling very melancholy--who would have guessed then that one
year later I would eat an Easter egg with the Duke of Courland?
[14]The Easter dinner, or the "consecrated meal," is
still a special feature in Poland, and an elaborate
affair even among the poorer people. During several
days meat and pastry are prepared, and on Holy
Saturday the tables are set, with the symbolical
lamb in the middle, and every dish garnished with
sprays of boxwood. Then a priest is summoned, who
puts on a white surplice, and saying the appointed
prayers he sprinkles the table with holy water.
In the villages on Easter morning the peasants bring
baskets with eggs, bread, cheese, and perhaps a
sausage, to church, and standing in two rows have
them consecrated.
At noon the dinner begins with hot bouillon served
in cups; all the other dishes are cold. But first of
all, the lady of the house, holding a plate of
hard-boiled eggs cut in pieces, presents them to
every one in turn, wishing a "glad Alleluia." The
table sometimes stays covered several days, hot
dishes being added to succeeding dinners, and the
pastry lasts sometimes several weeks, by some
mystery remaining as fresh as on the first day.
The children always have their own table, with
miniature dishes ornamented with boxwood, a lamb in
candy, colored eggs, etc. They would never forget to
have them consecrated, and the little girls very
earnestly play the hostess, partaking of the eggs
with their own guests.
In olden times, the Polish houses tried to surpass
each other in setting the most sumptuous Easter
tables. In an old manuscript is found the following
description of a festival given by Prince Sapieha,
in the sixteenth century.
In the middle of huge tables stood a lamb of candies
and marzipan, which were distributed "only to
ladies, dignitaries, and church men." Around it,
representing the seasons of the year, stood four
wild boars, each stuffed with hams, sausages, and
turkeys. The prince's chef showed wonderful skill in
roasting those boars whole. Then came twelve deer,
also roasted whole, and stuffed with a variety of
game: hares, woodcocks, partridges, hazel-hens,
etc.; these were for the twelve months of the year.
Around the table, numbering the weeks of the year,
were fifty-two mazourkas, that is, large square
cakes stuffed with all kinds of fruit, and three
hundred and sixty-five babas, for the days of the
year; each was one ell high and on their iced
surfaces were various inscriptions, mottoes,
proverbs, and witty verses, which the invited guests
took pleasure in deciphering.
In the way of beverages there were: first, four
antique silver tankards with wine from "King
Batory's time" (that is, one hundred years old);
then twelve silver pitchers of old Tokai; then
fifty-two silver barrels of Spanish, Italian, and
Cypress wines, and three hundred and sixty-five
bottles of Hungarian wine. For the household there
were 8,760 quarts, as many as there are hours in one
year, of home-made mead. The invited guests feasted
during one whole week. As soon as the morning
service was over they surrounded the tables, and the
entertainment lasted till midnight; the prince's
court band played lively airs, and the young people
were never tired of dancing, nor the elderly ones of
talking of "the good old times," sipping the
Hungarian Malmsey, and drinking to the health of the
prince.
He seemed to have grown thin; it is perhaps because of the long
fast. We also have not had any meat for forty days, and neither
butter nor milk during the holy week; everything was cooked with
oil, and on Friday we fasted the whole day. I did not mind it at
all, but for a man it must be different. Yesterday I was looking
anxiously at him: I thought he would not notice it, as he was
talking with the Prince Woivode, but he thanked me afterwards
for my solicitude. I felt quite ashamed; how careful a young
girl ought to be, not only of her words, but even of her eyes!
_Wednesday_, April 15.
We leave Warsaw to-morrow. The Prince Woivode and his wife are
going to their estate "Opole," and they take me with them. My
honored Father wrote a letter to the princess saying that she
may keep me as long as she is not tired of me. I hope that will
never be; I endeavor to please her as well as I can, and I feel
the greatest awe of her. If I ever live to be old I wish to have
her dignity of demeanor; even the duke is afraid of her.
I am glad that I am not yet going to Maleszow. I have it in my
head that I ought not to return there just as I was, and if I
arrived now there would be no change. No change? Oh! yes, there
is a great change, but not the one I mean. Yet, things cannot
stay long as they are now, something must take place. Will it be
yes, or no? I shall not be surprised if it is yes, and in the
other case--well, I will not bend my head, even if my heart
break. It sounds like riddles, but if when I think of him I am
afraid that some one may guess my thoughts, how could I write
more plainly? As it is I have already said too much; it is
better to stop and put my book under lock and key.
OPOLE, _Wednesday_, April 24.
We have been here for nearly a week; the place is pretty, but I do
not feel very cheerful, and nothing seems to go right. The trees
ought to become green, but they are as black as in mid-winter; it
ought to grow warm, and it is still cold. I wanted to begin some
embroidery, but I have not the necessary silks; I wished to play,
but the harpsichord is most dreadfully out of tune, and they have
to send to town for the organist. There is a large library, but the
princess has the key of it, and I am afraid to ask her for it. The
prince has bought some new French books, the works of Voltaire, the
most celebrated author in France; he paid, before my eyes, six
golden ducats for a few volumes, and not very large ones; but the
princess does not allow me to read them. What is still worse, there
arrived, just fresh from Paris, a novel which is all the rage, the
"Nouvelle Heloise," written by a certain M. Rousseau. I took the
book eagerly in my hand, but the author says in the introduction,
"No mother will allow her daughter to read this book," and the
princess most sternly forbade it to me.
I had still another disappointment yesterday; the physicians in
Warsaw ordered the princess to ride horseback for her health; she
laughed at them, saying that she would never do it, but the Prince
Woivode believed their advice good, and he bought a beautiful mare,
quite gentle, which was brought here. The princess very reluctantly
consented to ride a little in the garden, but I, who am not afraid
of horses, was just dying to learn how to ride, and I said so
yesterday. I got a terrible scolding; the princess said that such
an exercise would be quite indecent for a young lady, and I had to
give up all my plans,--such beautiful plans, of riding and hunting
with--well, with some one.
There are many people coming here to pay their respects to the
prince, who is the Woivode of this province, but they are not
very interesting. The one person whom I like to see is the
Prince Martin Lubomirski, the first cousin of the Woivode, but
much younger, and whom I have already met in Warsaw. He owns
the earldom of Janow, which is not far from here, and he has
invited us very eagerly to pay him a visit; I hope we shall go.
The princess always finds something to censure in him, but I
like him very much; he talks most agreeably, and is a great
friend of the Duke of Courland.
JANOW, _Friday_, May 1.
We have been here two days, and the Prince Martin announced from
the very first that he would not let us go away soon. I do not
think there can be found anywhere a host more generous, gay, and
hospitable than the Prince Martin. The princess says that he
sows his money broadcast as though he expected it to grow. He
has now a new scheme on foot: they are cutting a road through a
beautiful forest near the castle,--from my window I can see the
magnificent trees fall under the axes of at least a hundred
workmen,--and at the end of the road they are building a small
palace, but in such haste that it seems to grow under one's
eyes. There is a wager between the Prince Martin and the Prince
Woivode that the building will be ready in four weeks, and I am
sure the younger prince will be the winner. The whole forest is
to be enclosed with a hedge and serve as a preserve. Men have
been sent to distant places to bring deer and bears, besides the
game which is found around here. There is some mystery about all
that hasty work; I wonder what it is!
This place is beautiful indeed. The old and majestic castle
stands upon a hill above the Vistula, and commands a most
admirable view over picturesque villages, forests, and the
winding river. The halls and rooms are innumerable, the
furniture rich and elegant, and the gallery of portraits is said
to be the finest in the country. But my room seems to me the
most charming of all; it is in a high tower, and it makes me
feel like the heroine of a novel. From each of the three windows
is a different view, each beautiful, but I sit most near the
window looking towards the little palace, the progress of the
work going on there interests me so very much. On the walls of
my room is Olympus painted in fresco. "Venus lui manquait, mais
il la possede maintenant," said Prince Martin, gallantly, when
he brought me in.
_Sunday_, March 3.
I rose before the sun, and I must have looked like a ghost when
I glided through the large halls, on my way to the gallery of
portraits.
The Prince Martin, following the example of our ancestors, who
kept with great care the pictures of their most illustrious
members, and the memory of their great deeds, determined to
gather all such souvenirs of the Lubomirski family in one room.
He brought from Italy a skilful painter, also called in the help
of a very learned man, who knew all about the Polish history,
and after long researches and debates the plan was carried out
in 1746; as the inscription above the door testifies. The
princess says it is a pity that all these portraits and pictures
are not painted in oil on canvas instead of "in fresco," as
they never can be removed, and it is more difficult to take care
of them. In any case the gallery, as it is now, is superb.
Yesterday after dinner our host brought us in and explained the
meaning of the large paintings, relating the facts and the
anecdotes about them. It was so interesting that I decided to
get up very early this morning, before the house was awake, and
come here alone to look again at the pictures, and write about
some of them.
The first picture represents the three brothers Lubomirski,
young and handsome men, who in the presence of the king, and
many lords and witnesses, are dividing the inheritance of their
father. Two scriveners are writing the deed upon a roll of
parchment, and this document, dating from 1088, was the first
historical title-deed known in Poland; it is still in existence,
and the family are very proud of it.
After that picture, comes a row of portraits of stately men and
great warriors, which I must pass over. Then I see a painting
representing a chapel, where, before a miraculous image of the
Virgin, a baby is being weighed, and the other scale is covered
with gold pieces. One Prince Lubomirski, being childless, made a
vow that if a son were born to him he would offer to the Church
its weight in gold, and he kept his promise.
Farther on, I see a nun on her deathbed, with a halo round her
head; sick people touch her garments and are healed; it was
Sophy Lubomirska, who in the sixteenth century was renowned for
her sanctity.
On the other wall is represented an amusing scene: Among young
damsels at work stands a pretty little girl in a very uncomfortable
position, as her foot is tied to the leg of the table. Her aunt,
who has punished her thus for some mischief, is sternly looking at
her. But the naughty little Christina has grown to be a young lady,
and in the following picture we see her kneeling before the altar
in her room, her beautiful eyes full of ecstasy; she has just
pricked her finger with a golden needle, and gathering her blood on
a pen, she writes down her determination always to lead a saintly
life. She kept her word; married to Felixe Potocki, she was as
famous for her virtues as for her beauty. All her accomplishments,
her rare talent for music, her great skill in handiwork, were given
to God's service. She adorned His churches, composed and sang
verses to His glory, founded several convents, and her charitable
deeds were innumerable. Her own confessor wrote her life and called
her a saint.
Next come the portraits of her two brothers. First, Stanislaus,
an eminent writer, surnamed the "Polish Solomon," is surrounded
with books, and Fame crowns him with a laurel wreath. The
second, Jerome, famous for his valor, is represented with the
King Sobieski, when after the victory near Vienna they are
examining the flag of Mahomet, captured from the Turks; in the
distance the Polish army can be seen occupying the Turkish
camps.
Then I stop at a large picture representing a very exciting
adventure. In a forest covered with snow, a man is fighting with
a bear, who seems to have the better of him, when from behind a
woman in a hunting costume approaches, and holds two pistols to
the animal's ears; in the background a horse is seen running
away with a sleigh. The story runs thus: A Princess Lubomirska,
who was very fond of horses, was returning one day from a
hunting party, with only one servant, when an infuriated bear
sprang upon them. The frightened horse threw over the little
sleigh and ran away with it, and the two people were left to the
fury of the beast. The faithful servant having only said, "Your
Grace, remember my wife and children," threw himself forward to
meet the bear, who was advancing on his hind legs, and give his
mistress time to run away. But the courageous Pole did not leave
the brave man to perish; drawing two pistols from her belt, she
stepped from behind and shot the bear on the spot.
But I hear the Prince Martin talking to his dogs, which he loves
and pets as if they were children; his greyhounds are famous in
the whole country. It is time to stop and run back to my tower.
_Thursday_, May 14.
We went to Opole, and returned here again, urged by Prince
Martin to see the villa finished; he won the wager. I asked him
to-day why he wanted another house, and he answered smiling,
"For your ladyship's sake." What does he mean?
_Saturday_, May 16.
The duke is here! And, oh!--I can hardly believe it,--he loves
me! He loves me so much that he could stay no longer without
seeing me, and the two princes, to please him, thought to build
the villa and to give hunting parties, in order to bring him
near the object of his affection. It is fortunate that it was
dark when he appeared yesterday. Everybody would have seen how
I blushed, and he himself might have read in my eyes more joy
than I ought to have shown. How will all this end? Until now I
feigned not to understand the hidden meaning of his words. I
tried most carefully to conceal my feelings toward him; shall I
be able to do it any longer, especially here, where I shall see
him so often,--live almost under the same roof?
I cannot express the state that my heart and head are in. I see
before me either a destiny so grand that I am afraid to think of
it, or so dark and miserable that I shiver. What ought I to do?
I would rather die than ask the princess; she said, not later
than to-day, that the woman who would believe in the love of the
duke would be simply mad, and that his wife would be most
unhappy. The Prince Woivode visibly shuns any confidence.
May 18.
I am betrothed. Is it really true? I, Frances Krasinska, I shall
be Duchess of Courland, and perhaps one day something more!
To-day we went to the little palace. The princess made a false
step mounting the stairs, and was obliged to stay in the room
with her companion, and we four went to the park. The Prince
Martin stopped to show the Woivode some preparations for the
hunt, but the duke said he preferred to walk, and took my arm.
He was silent for awhile, which seemed strange, as he generally
talks a great deal. At last he asked me if I would never be
willing to understand for whom and for what he had come here. I
tried to answer, calmly, that I knew him to be a lover of
hunting, and that there promised to be great sport. Then he put
aside all metaphors, and said plainly that he came for my sake,
"and to find his whole life's happiness." I was stunned, it came
so suddenly; but I composed myself and said: "Monsieur le Duc,
are you forgetting who you are, and what you may be one day? You
must look for a wife among the royal daughters." "You are my
queen!" he exclaimed; "you, who first by your beauty have
charmed my eyes, and afterwards by your modesty and virtues have
won my heart. I am used to having women run to me as soon as I
have spoken one word. But you, although you loved me perhaps
more than any one of them, you shunned me; I could only guess
what you were feeling. You are worthy of the first throne in the
world. If I wish to be one day King of Poland, it is in order to
put a crown on that beautiful brow of yours." How can I believe
that all that was not merely a dream!
I stood silent; no words could pass my lips. Then the two
princes drew near us. "I take Heaven and you for witnesses,"
said the duke, turning to them, "that I will never marry any
other woman but the Countess Francoise Krasinska. For reasons
easily understood, I wish my decision kept secret until the
time comes, and I am sure of your loyalty and discretion." The
princes saluted; they said something about the great honor and
their faithfulness; they whispered in my ear, "You are worthy of
it," and withdrew.
I stood as yet in a dream, but at last I had to answer to the
affectionate words; I had even to confess that I loved him much,
and had done so for a long time. Should I not have made that
avowal to my future husband? My husband! No, it cannot be true.
But then, what means the exchanged ring on my finger? I had from
Basia a little golden snake-ring which she gave me at my last
visit; the duke had observed it, and ordered a similar one with
the words "for ever" engraved inside; he put it on my finger and
took mine for himself. The trees and the birds were the only
witnesses of that silent betrothal. But these rings were not
consecrated; a Father's hand had not given me away, nor a Mother
bestowed her blessing. Oh! yes, now I believe that all is true,
for I feel hot tears on my cheeks.
_Monday_, May 25.
One week has passed, a week of such bliss! To-day for the first
time, I was struck with the thought that my happiness might fly
away. The Dukes Clement and Albert arrived here on Thursday; the
hunt took place on Friday and Saturday, and they leave this
afternoon; perhaps he also will have to go soon! How could I
have so totally forgotten about it? Perhaps I had not time to
think of what would come next, the days are so full--not only
with my heart's content, but also with the duties of the lady of
the house; the princess is confined to her room, as her foot has
grown worse, and I have had to take her place. Or perhaps I did
not want to think at all and spoil my happiness. Now I can think
of nothing else but that departure. What will it be when he has
gone? With what thought shall I awake in the morning? For whom
shall I want to dress? What shall I do with the whole day when
he is not here!
I looked out of the window toward the villa, and saw a white
handkerchief waving from the balcony; it is the "good-morning"
he sends me every day. How early he is,--it is not yet six
o'clock! Now I see a rider galloping along the road. It cannot
be he! No, it is his favorite hunter who brings me flowers, a
message every day from him. Oh! no, my anxiety was premature; I
have not heard yet that he was going away; we may have another
happy week, and a third, and perhaps a fourth,--why did I fret?
_Wednesday_, May 27.
My forebodings were right; he is going. A special courier came
last night with the king's order that he return at once. I saw
him this morning; I shall see him again in half an hour, when he
will come to say good-bye, and then when shall we meet again?
_Sunday_, June 7.
Two weeks have passed. Two couriers brought me short notes under
the Prince Woivode's seal; but what is a letter, written words,
for two people who have been accustomed to talk to each other
for hours, who knew each other's thoughts without even using any
words, only looking into each other's eyes. He left me his
miniature, a fairly good likeness, but it has always the same
expression; I have a better portrait of him in my heart. I do
not answer his letters; it is hard, but I was positive when I
told him that until we were married he would not receive a
single written word from me. I think my hand would be paralyzed
if I wrote a letter without the knowledge of my aunt and my
honored Parents, and I will keep my word, although God knows how
much it costs.
How long the days seemed when he was gone! I felt in a kind of
lethargy, caring for nothing, without will or desire to do anything.
I was aroused by a very sad occurrence: the princess' health grew
worse, her foot swelled, and the doctor for whom they sent to Warsaw
declared her to be in a critical condition. I cannot express what I
felt during the three days of uncertainty. Notwithstanding all that
the duke and the princes have said to quiet my conscience, I know
very well that my silence about what has happened is an offence
toward her. From the very beginning I planned and lived in hopes
that the day would come when I should confess my involuntary fault to
her, and to my honored Parents, explaining how everything happened,
how I could not help it, and I was sure I would be pardoned. But
during those three days of danger my hopes might at any moment have
been crushed, and then what would have become of me? How could I
live without having her forgiveness? It came to my mind also that
my honored Parents are no longer young, and an unexpected illness
may come to them, and I felt utterly desperate.
The Lord be praised and thanked! The princess is better, and we
had good news from Maleszow; both my honored Parents are in
excellent health.
But it is time to return to the princess; she likes to have me
near her, and now I feel most happy at her bedside when I can do
something for her.
OPOLE, _Thursday_, June 18.
The princess felt so much better in health and strength that we
returned here the day before yesterday. I left Janow with
regret; after all, the remembrance of the happy hours spent
there is the strongest.