Prince Charles’s Will--Hélène receives the news of her husband’s
death--Departure for Werky--Hélène marries Count
Potocki 257
IV
Arrival of the Prince-Bishop in Paris--Letters from Madame de
Pailly--Letters from the Princesse de Ligne-Lichtenstein--The Abbé
Baudeau at Bel Œil--Arrival of the de Lignes in Paris--Marriage of
Hélène and Prince Charles--Their departure for Brussels.
The Prince-Bishop at last decided to start for Paris. He had hardly
arrived when he received a visit from Madame de Pailly, who informed
him of his niece’s inclinations, and explained to him the progress
of affairs. The Bishop earnestly requested to see the Princesse de
Ligne-Luxembourg herself, but at that moment she was staying with
Madame de Brionne at her country place of Limours. Madame de Pailly at
once resumes her pen:--
“The Prince-Bishop, Madame, is always inquiring whether you have
returned; he is extremely desirous to have the honour of seeing you,
and I should be very glad if you could seriously discuss the matter
with him.
“Occasions on which I can prove to you my zeal and entire devotion will
not be wanting with so vacillating a mind; you will be able to say
through me anything you please. I will see to everything, and render
you a faithful account of what happens. But it seems to me that we must
settle between ourselves what is to be the point of departure. He has
referred several times to the question of settlements, especially with
regard to the present. Would it not be better to present him with a
copy of the deed of property? It would hurry on the transaction, and be
a wise measure.
“The Prince de Salm’s agents are very active; he constantly alludes to
him, and he listens to my replies as if they were quite new to him; he
goes on confiding to my ear all the proposals that are made to him.
We have three fresh rivals, who, for the present, however, give me no
anxiety.”
The desired explanations at last arrived from Brussels, in the
following letter:--
THE PRINCESSE DE LIGNE-LICHTENSTEIN TO THE PRINCESSE DE
LIGNE-LUXEMBOURG.
“I trust, Princess, you do not doubt the tenderness of my feelings
towards you; the gratitude I now owe you can only increase it.
“I have the honour to enclose the paper concerning M. de Ligne’s
property. For the last year he has put all his affairs into my hands,
and as I sign everything and collect all the revenues, and M. de Ligne
even gives me the receipts for the money he draws from the estates, I
can guarantee the exactness of the document.
“I am too sure of my husband’s affection for you, Princess, and the
confidence he has in your judgment, not to feel certain that he
will agree to any arrangement you may choose to make for his son. I
beg to entreat you, Madame, in case you should think an income of
twenty-five thousand livres[1] not sufficient for the present, to
fix the sum yourself, for I only require one more year to settle the
affairs of our house (public opinion having kindly reported that they
were in a much more confused state than I found them to be). I can
promise you to honour any arrangements and liabilities that you will
undertake for our young people. All they will have to do when they
draw their income every three months will be to sign their names. I
have made it a rule in business to consider as sacred the dates on
which income or pensions fall due.
“The affection I bear towards my children leading me perhaps to
overlook their faults, it would ill become me to praise our son, but I
must believe the testimony of those who knew him at Strasburg during
several years; and at the present moment we have every reason to be
satisfied with the character he bears in the army.
“Pray, therefore, do not relax your kindness towards him, and let
your efforts conduce to his happiness. You will also be contributing
towards mine, for to see him settled and to be surrounded by my
children will be my greatest joy.
“Receive, Princess, the assurance of my deepest respect and esteem,”
etc. etc.
This letter had a wonderful effect on the uncle, but did not move his
niece.
“The young lady,” writes Madame de Pailly, “is infatuated with M. de
Salm; he has some emissary about her whom we do not know, and who
demolishes beforehand all we can say against him. Even the Comte de
Horn’s name has been brought forward as an honour, on account of the
Regent’s phrase[2] about him.
“The good uncle feels his own weakness, and carefully endeavours to
hide it; he has agreed to everything with me, and, as I have been
fortunate enough to persuade him, he fancies I shall have the same
success with his niece, as if they were in the same frame of mind.
To-day he is going to use all his influence, and at the same time
inform her of the visit he wishes me to make, and of the entire trust
he desires she should have in me. I shall lend myself to all his
wishes, and shall have the honour of sending you a report of this
interview. Receive, I pray,” etc.
The uncle did not meet with the slightest success in his efforts to
overcome his niece’s resistance. Madame de Pailly was obliged to
confess it to her correspondent: “There is one point, Madame, on which
I think you will be obliged to give way; the Bishop asserts that he
can only overcome his niece’s passionate wish to be married in Paris
by pledging his word that she shall spend three winters there under
your guidance, so as to get accustomed to the fashionable world. He
appears to attach great importance to this promise; for he feels the
great advantage it would be to his niece. You still have time, Madame,
to think over this matter, for we can discuss the other points in the
meantime; I will tell you what they are when I see you....”
The Princesse de Ligne kept her nephew informed of all these
negotiations; as for the Prince’s father, he was still detained with
the army, waiting for peace to be signed. Prince Charles wrote a
short cold note to his aunt, in which he did not even allude to his
marriage:--
“MY DEAR AUNT--Although peace has been declared the Congress is
not yet over; my father is very displeased at it; he is still in a
wretched village, feeling very dull, with nothing to do.
“He will certainly go to Paris as soon as he can; I envy him the
pleasure he will have in seeing you, my dear aunt.
“Allow me to assure you from time to time of the feelings of affection
and respect with which I remain all my life,” etc. etc.
The coolness the Prince displayed will be easily understood when we
learn that he already felt for a friend of his childhood a love which
was never completely effaced. But, accustomed as he was absolutely to
respect the paternal or rather the _maternal_ will, it never entered
his mind for one moment not to obey.
His mother had eagerly agreed to their cousin’s plans. Hélène’s large
fortune, the isolated position of the young girl, which would tend to
make her adopt her husband’s family as her own, had quite won over
the Princess, who ignored or pretended to ignore her son’s secret
affection. She therefore persevered in her efforts, hoping to succeed,
though the object in view was not easy to attain.
The Bishop of Wilna had been won over to the de Lignes, but he had
many a hard battle to fight, for an unforeseen circumstance had
strengthened Hélène’s resolution not to leave Paris. Her friend,
Mademoiselle de Lauraguais, had married the Duc Auguste d’Aremberg,
cousin of the de Lignes, who, like him, resided for part of the year
at the Court of Brussels. The young Duchess returned to Paris for some
time, and at once visited her former companions at the Abbaye-aux-Bois.
She had heard of Prince Charles’ proposed marriage, and gave Hélène a
most gloomy description of life in Brussels. The latter immediately
repeated this to her uncle, making the picture several shades darker.
The poor Bishop did not know who to listen to; in the midst of his
perplexities he determined to despatch the Abbé Baudeau, who was always
at hand, to Bel Œil,[3] giving him instructions to confer verbally with
the Princesse de Ligne on the delicate subject of a residence in Paris,
as well as on the money question. He was allowed great latitude on
this latter point, and accordingly set off.
Madame de Pailly lost no time, and again wrote to the Princesse de
Ligne-Luxembourg: “We have had news of the envoy, Madame, and we hear
he is much pleased with everything, but he sends word that Madame la
Princesse de Ligne will not hear of a three years’ residence in Paris.
“The Bishop appeared to me very much disturbed at the effect this would
have on his niece, as she had always held to this condition. You know
there is nothing more difficult to overcome than the fancies of a young
person, and unfortunately she has been confirmed in this one by all
that Madame d’Aremberg de Lauraguais has told her. The Abbé will arrive
perhaps to-day; I shall be there, and we will first work upon the
uncle, so as to make him work upon his niece.
“M. de Salm will not give way; he has sent his picture to his friend at
the Convent, and she has invited the Princess Hélène to a collation,
given in a room of which this portrait forms the chief ornament.
“I was at the opera with a lady who is much interested in this fine
gentleman, and she said: ‘What does it signify whether you are a scamp
or not when you have a name and a large fortune? Look, for instance, at
so and so,’ etc.
“God forbid that such morality should enter the head of our prelate
and his niece. In the meantime I amused myself last night by quietly
challenging my free-spoken young friend to tell me all the naughty
stories about this charming Prince. The good Bishop bore it with a
slightly embarrassed air, which quite amused me.
“I shall have the honour, Madame, to give you an account of the envoy’s
return, and of all its consequences. I beg you not to be impatient, and
to rely on my zeal and my intense desire to do all that is agreeable to
you.
“Receive,” etc.
It was not long before the Abbé returned, and, though he had not
succeeded in obtaining the promise of a residence in Paris, he had
done much to push the matter forward. He brought magnificent fruit and
flowers to the young Princess from Bel Œil, and in the description he
gave of the almost regal magnificence of the place he neglected none of
the details which were likely to charm and flatter her vanity. He had
granted handsome pecuniary conditions, and the Princess, on her part,
had seemed disposed to accept the marriage-contract proposed by the
Abbé.
MADAME DE PAILLY TO THE PRINCESSE DE LIGNE-LUXEMBOURG.
“All is going on wonderfully well, Madame; you will find the Prince
and his envoy very well satisfied. At dinner we had a melon from Bel
Œil, and peaches were sent to the Princess Hélène. I proposed the
health of the giver; but they will tell you the rest. I am rejoiced
at the position of affairs.
“The Abbé may have every possible fault, but he confirms me in my
opinion that one can do nothing with fools and everything with
intelligent people. The young Princess is converted, and her good
uncle, agreeing to the Abbé’s expedient, says: ‘It will cost me thirty
thousand livres[4] a year more to make my niece happy. I will do it,
Madame, if only you are satisfied.’”
The Princesse de Ligne-Luxembourg wrote to her cousin to give her this
good news, and to urge her to come to Paris as soon as possible; but
she was in no hurry, and, like a prudent mother, wished above all, to
settle everything relating to the income and household arrangements of
the future young couple, for whom she dreaded certain temptations, from
which she herself had suffered. She again sent her steward to Paris
with two letters, one of which was a confidential one to her cousin.
BEL ŒIL, _19th January 1779_.
“I despatch you my steward, Princess; he will have the honour of
handing you this letter, and I have instructed him to carry out
exactly whatever you are kind enough to order.
“The Prince arrived at Vienna on the 5th of June; I therefore think he
will soon be home again, in which case I should only go to Paris with
him, or even a couple of days later, if I can possibly avoid going
before.
“In any case, Princess, I shall await your orders. I reserve myself
the pleasure of assuring you personally of all my gratitude. I have
never doubted the success of anything which you were good enough to
take in hand.
“As our young people will not have to receive, and as the ordinary
expenses of the household cannot possibly absorb all their income, I
fear that too large a fortune may be hurtful to them, and lead perhaps
to gambling, or other extravagances, which would do them harm, and
which they would always consider themselves obliged to increase in
proportion to their income; especially when they will come into their
respective fortunes. I look at this matter from a mother’s point of
view. Pray do not let it go beyond the family.”
The Princesse de Ligne-Luxembourg told the Bishop of her cousin’s wise
advice, but no attention was paid to it. The Congress of Teschen was
over, and the Prince de Ligne was returning home slowly, for he always
found much to delay him on the road. We will not inquire into the
nature of these delays; he, however, found sufficient time to write a
few lines from Vienna to his cousin, and to the Bishop of Wilna, which
he had neglected doing for the last two months.
TO THE PRINCESSE DE LIGNE-LUXEMBOURG.
“I am told, Princess, that, thanks to your kindness, all is going on
well, also that you have done me the honour of writing to me.... I
have not received anything. They say I must write to the Bishop. I beg
you will give him the enclosed letter.
“If you have any commands to give me, address them to the Post Office
at Munich; I shall find them in passing through.
“All the information I receive from Poland appears to coincide with
our views.
“I place myself at your feet, Princess, and beg to assure you that my
gratitude is equal to my tender and respectful attachment.
“LE PRINCE DE LIGNE.”
A few days after the receipt of this letter they had agreed upon all
points; a draft of the settlement was drawn up, and the Princesse de
Ligne and her son announced their arrival.
In spite of the very small inclination the young Prince felt for this
marriage, he experienced a certain curiosity to see his future bride.
As for Hélène, she was far more interested in her outfit, her presents,
and her diamonds than in her husband. Among other things, she had been
promised “certain girandoles[5] and diamond bracelets of wonderful
beauty--old family jewels, that she was most impatient to see, and she
was in a great fright lest they should be left behind at Brussels.” Her
future aunt undertook to explain this childlike anxiety to the wife
of the steward, so that she might remind the Princess to bring these
precious trinkets. She answered as follows:--
“On my return home I found a letter from the Princess, announcing
her immediate arrival, and adding that she is bringing with her the
girandoles and the bracelets; so the Princesse Hélène need have no
cause for anxiety. I shall have the honour of paying her my respects
on Monday. We have also heard, through M. le Comte Tasson, that M.
le Prince de Ligne will reach Brussels, at the latest, on Monday. I
hasten to apprise your Highness of the fact, and beg she will accept
the assurance of deepest respect,” etc.
The Princesse de Ligne’s first visit was to her cousin. She there found
the Prince-Bishop awaiting her arrival. After a long conversation and
endless compliments on either side, it was settled that the Bishop
should escort the Princess and her son to the Abbaye-aux-Bois.
Hélène, who had been warned the day before, was very much vexed at
having to make her first appearance in her school dress; but no
exception could be made to the rule. She went down to the parlour
accompanied by Madame de Sainte Delphine, and very soon perceived that
the plainness of her dress did not prevent the Prince from thinking
her very pretty. Though she pretended to cast her eyes modestly down
during the visit, she took care to see enough of her future husband to
be able to say to her companions on returning: “He is fair, has a tall
slight figure, and resembles his mother, who is very handsome; he has a
noble mien, but he is too serious, and there is something German about
him!”
The Prince’s father arrived three days later.
“I abandon M. de Ligne to your indignation, Princess,” his wife writes
to their cousin; “you may prepare her for his arrival, which will
certainly be either to-day or to-morrow; it fills me with the greatest
joy!”
The Prince-father had his head completely turned by his future
daughter-in-law, who did all she could to please him, intuitively
feeling that he was the one with whom she could best sympathise.
Having no family in Paris, it was decided that Hélène’s marriage
should be celebrated in the chapel of the Abbaye-aux-Bois, to the
great delight of the pupils. The Bishop gave his niece an outfit
worth a hundred thousand écus;[6] the wedding casket, offered by the
Lignes, was provided by Léonard; the laces, ordered at Brussels and
Mechlin, were real masterpieces of work. The jewels offered to Hélène,
besides the family diamonds and the famous girandoles, were chosen by
herself at Barrière’s and at Drey’s. She gave a trinket to each of
her companions in the red class, and a magnificent luncheon, _with
ices_, was given by the Prince-Bishop to all the pupils, including the
_little blues_, who each received in addition a bag of sweetmeats.
The marriage-contract was signed at Versailles by their Majesties and
the royal family, the 25th of July 1779. The wedding took place on the
29th at the Abbaye-aux-Bois.
It is needless to add that Hélène’s nurse, Mademoiselle Bathilde
Toutevoix, took part in the festivities. She adorned her pretty
mistress to the very best of her ability, and the poor girl’s head was
so completely turned with joy that she even forgot her cockades.[7] She
came down to the parlour after the bride, and modestly hid herself in
a corner. Prince Charles approached her, and slipped into her hand his
wedding present--an annuity of six hundred livres.[8] Hélène was much
touched with this attention. “I thanked him,” she says, “by a smile and
pressure of the hand, the first I had granted him.”
The bride was led to the altar by her uncle, and by the Marquise
Wielopolska, who took the place of her mother. The Duchesses de
Choiseul, de Mortemart, de Châtillon, de la Vallière, etc., were
present at the ceremony. The young Princess, exquisitely lovely in her
bridal dress, fully satisfied the company by her “decent attitude,
which was full of feeling” (style of that day). After receiving the
congratulations of the brilliant assembly, Hélène went up to her
apartment to change her costume; but, instead of returning immediately
to the parlour, she quickly made her way to the choir chapel, where
Madame de Rochechouart was buried, and kneeling on the tomb of the
one who had been to her as a mother, she offered up to God her last
girlish prayer. When she returned to the parlour she was rather pale,
and her eyes showed signs of tears; but at the gates of the Abbey a
post-chaise, drawn by six chafing horses, was awaiting; the postilions,
in the pink and silver livery of the Prince, being scarcely able
to hold them; Hélène, after a rapid farewell, was hurried into the
carriage by her young husband, and they started at full gallop for
Brussels.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] One thousand pounds sterling.
[2] The Comte de Horn, a connection of the Regent through his mother,
the Princess-Palatine, was condemned to death for murder. The family
implored his pardon, appealing to the Regent on the ground of
relationship. “When I have bad blood,” the Regent coldly replied, “I
have it drawn,” and the pardon was refused.
It is probable that they boasted to Hélène of the connection between
the Horn and Orléans families without mentioning the Count’s crime.
[3] Bel Œil was the summer residence of the Princes de Ligne, and will
often be referred to later on.
[4] Twelve hundred pounds sterling.
[5] Large diamond earrings that were worn with the Court dress.
[6] The Princesse Hélène received as her marriage-portion Mogylani,
an estate with a residence and country-houses, two palaces at Cracow
and one at Warsaw. Prince Radziwill owed the Massalski family a sum of
one million eight hundred thousand Polish florins, inherited through
Hélène’s mother. He had given them as interest three important estates,
of which half the income belonged to Hélène, and the other half to her
brother. The Prince-Bishop promised to give and guarantee the Princess,
from her wedding-day, a clear income of sixty thousand livres, payable
in Paris, and to pay all their expenses in the event of their remaining
in that city.
On the other hand, the Prince de Ligne promised to give his son, on
his wedding-day, a revenue of thirty thousand livres, and in addition
to lodge the pair at Brussels, or Bel Œil, or Vienna, in one of his
palaces or residences. If they had any children, at the end of four
years the Prince promised to double the sum of money.
[7] She was in the habit of bedizening herself with them, and Hélène
does not forget to mention in her memoranda that on that day she forgot
them.
[8] Twenty-four pounds sterling.
V
An entertainment at Bel Œil--The Ligne family--The Court at
Brussels--Prince Charles of Lorraine--The ladies at Court--Letter
of the Chevalier de l’Isle--The Prince de Ligne at Versailles--The
Prince’s letter to his son Charles.
The young couple first established themselves at Bel Œil, the
magnificent summer residence of the Prince de Ligne. The Marshal was
passionately attached to this regal abode, on which his father had
lavished several millions. The property was composed of a succession of
gardens, forests, parks, mansions, and shooting boxes, which the Prince
de Ligne had designed with the most perfect taste. It was here that he
preferred receiving his guests, and that he successively entertained
the Prince de Condé, the King of Sweden, the Comte d’Artois, Prince
Henry of Prussia, etc. Hélène was dazzled by the splendour of her
new abode. A brilliant reception had been prepared in her honour. On
the very day after her arrival, which had taken place in the evening,
the young Princess, on opening her windows, perceived an immense park
full of villagers elegantly attired as shepherds and shepherdesses,
their dresses more like those of Watteau and Lancret than those
commonly worn by the Flemish peasants. The Prince’s dragoons were
making merry at tables on the lawn; and a little farther off, in a
grove, might be seen puppet shows, in another tight-rope dancers; a
rural ballroom was established on a green sward; under a leafy bower
a magician was distributing sham ointments in little boxes, which
contained sweetmeats and trinkets. In another spot a bard was gaily
reciting verses, composed by the Prince in honour of the newly-married
pair; and if the composition was not brilliant in versification, it
yet could boast of grace and art sufficient to compensate for its
defects; finally, Aufresne and Préville, who had arrived that same
morning from Paris, were playing improvised proverbs in the private
theatre of the residence. The festivities lasted the whole day;
after dinner the proverbs were replaced by a comedy in one act, with
interludes of song, entitled, _Colette and Lucas_, composed by the
Prince de Ligne in honour of his daughter-in-law.[9] The audience was
composed of brilliant officers and fine ladies, who had come expressly
from Brussels and even Versailles for the occasion. The play, though
worthless, was courteously applauded; but another had been prepared
in order to compensate the spectators. Night having come on during
the representation, sudden floods of light springing up in brilliant
sheaves between the trees greeted the guests as they emerged from
the theatre, and in the thickets fairy-like illuminations lit up the
arbours; it was impossible to see the lamps, cleverly hidden under the
foliage. “It was not night,” says Hélène: “it was silvery daylight.”
The married couple appeared enchanted one with the other, with a shade
more of tenderness on the part of the Prince. Hélène’s beauty, grace,
and intelligence surprised and charmed him; he had not expected to find
these qualities united in the person of a child of fifteen. Every one
was under the same impression, and the Dowager-Princess herself, who
was not easy to please, wrote as follows, some time after the wedding,
to the Princesse de Ligne-Luxembourg:--
BEL ŒIL, _20th August 1779_.
“Again I renew my thanks, Princess, and reiterate the expressions of
gratitude I owe you. Our child is most charming, docile, and gentle,
having no will of her own, and amused at everything; in fact all that
could be desired in a daughter-in-law if she were moulded by one’s
self. She has been quite a success with all who have seen her in these
parts.
“As our children have both had the honour of writing to you, I will
not, for fear of repetition, give you the details of our journey.
Moreover, his Grace the Bishop of Wilna will have told you all;
he appeared himself very well pleased with our country. Do try,
Princess, to make him send my son his niece’s portrait, in whatever
style he prefers, even if it be that little pencil drawing we saw
at the Abbaye-aux-Bois; and do not doubt, Princess, of the tender
sentiments,” etc. etc.
The Prince-Bishop had indeed been delighted with his stay in Flanders;
the amiability of the family of Ligne, the harmonious relationship
existing between its members, the distinguished intelligence and the
kindness of Prince Charles in particular, all contributed to assure him
of his niece’s future happiness. He left her thoroughly satisfied.
For the first time Hélène was going to be acquainted with family
life; she could not have had a better beginning, for the Lignes lived
together with an intimacy full of ease, gaiety, and tenderness. In
her convent life the little Princess, with the selfishness natural
to children, had only thought of herself, and was not accustomed
to the daily sacrifices made by brothers and sisters, which are
made easy and rewarded by a mother’s approval and kiss. She had a
serious apprenticeship to undergo. She preferred her father-in-law
and the Princess Clary, her sister-in-law, to all the other members
of her family. The Princess Clary, the Prince’s eldest and favourite
daughter, “his masterpiece,” as he called her, was kindness, grace, and
affability itself. Married some four years, gifted with sound judgment
and perfect tact, she would have been an affectionate and charming
guide to her young sister-in-law at the outset of her married life; but
it was not possible for her to assume this position, which naturally
devolved upon the Princess-mother, who, jealous of her rights, would
have ceded her authority to no one.
The Princesse de Ligne played an important part, if not in the heart of
her husband, at least in his household. The Prince willingly rendered
justice to his wife’s qualities; he was full of consideration for her,
and treated her always with amiable deference. “My wife,” he said,
“is an excellent wife, full of delicacy, feeling, nobility, and in no
way selfish. She is often in a pet, but her temper soon passes away,
melting in tears and leaving no trace, for my wife has an excellent
heart.” It was not difficult for the Prince to resign himself to
his wife’s temper, for it affected him very slightly. Such was not
the case with her children; it must, however, be admitted that she
had often good cause for her unevenness of temper. Not only was her
husband constantly and openly faithless to her, but he also squandered
his fortune, and in spite of the large revenues he possessed would
often have been involved in serious difficulties had it not been for
the watchful care of the Princess, who by her clever administration
established a proper balance between their income and expenditure.
However, in spite of the Princess’s rather uncertain temper, the
unvarying cheerfulness and good humour of the Prince made it a
delightful home, for he possessed the rare quality of being as charming
at home as in society.
Hélène thoroughly enjoyed her new life, and eagerly threw herself into
the pursuit of pleasures entirely new to a little schoolgirl. She
at once learnt to ride. Dressed in an elegant riding-habit, made to
display her delicate and supple figure to perfection, and accompanied
by her husband, she would spring into the saddle the first thing in
the morning, as light as a bird, and as pleased with her liberty; then
three or four times a day, with childlike glee, she would array herself
in new dresses from Léonard or Mademoiselle Bertin; and we may be sure
that they in no way resembled the little black convent-frock. At all
the entertainments given in honour of her wedding, she fascinated
everybody by her grace and liveliness; she danced with such spirit,
acted so naturally and with so much animation, sang with a voice so
youthful and fresh, that her husband, though not sharing her worldly
tastes, was happy in her pleasure, and allowed her to give herself up
to it without restraint.
Immediately after her arrival Hélène was presented at the Court of
the Netherlands. The Ligne family possessed a magnificent palace at
Brussels, near the Cathedral of Sainte Gudule, and often resided there
during the winter. At that time the Viceroy was Prince Charles of
Lorraine; he had married the Archduchess Marie-Anne,[10] sister of
Marie-Thérèse, and was now a widower.
The Prince of Lorraine often came to hunt at Bel Œil. “He could not
help being kind, even in his fits of temper, which were rare. One day,
for instance, while hunting, on which occasion he gave himself the airs
of an old huntsman, enraged at a number of people who disturbed the
hunt by overrunning the forest at Bel Œil, he called out: ‘Go to the
devil!--if you please, gentlemen,’ he added, taking off his hat.”
The liveliest, wittiest, and most fashionable man at the Court of
Brussels was certainly the Prince de Ligne’s father, and he enjoyed
his life there extremely. “It was,” he says, “a nice Court, gay and at
the same time secure, idle and agreeable, with plenty of drinking and
hunting.” However, when the Duke held a levee, and invited ladies,
nothing but the most inoffensive gaiety was permitted, for the Prince
hated all license and bad taste.
Prince Charles’s palace at Brussels was an immense and ancient
building. Brussels reminded one somewhat of Paris, the town offering
every kind of resource. The _cours_ was the favourite promenade, and
there the grandest equipages were to be seen. The coachbuilders of
Brussels were famous, and the Duke was anxious that the nobility should
possess the most elegant specimens of their work. Hélène made her
first appearance on the _cours_ in a superb gilt coach made by Simon;
all the panels were delicately painted, in the most beautiful _vernis
Martin_,[11] by clever Viennese artists.
In spite of his love for the Court of Brussels and his passion for Bel
Œil, the Prince never stayed very long at either; he generally started
off at a moment’s notice. “What a charming existence mine was, in my
dear and delightful Bel Œil. In twenty-four hours’ time I could be
either in Paris or in London, at the Hague, at Spa, etc. Once I went
to Paris to spend one hour there, and another hour at Versailles,
after the Queen’s last confinement: _I saw her on the fourth day_,” he
carefully adds.
“On another occasion I took all my company there to the opera in a
coach of my own.”
It was natural that the Prince should like Paris and Versailles, for he
was the soul and life of the little intimate circle around the Queen;
his presence gave animation to everything, and his invariable good
humour and sallies of wit always secured him a smiling welcome. He was
to be seen everywhere, arranging or disarranging the gardens; presiding
at entertainments and directing the illuminations: he took part in the
Queen’s lansquenet, Mesdames’ cavagnole, Monsieur’s whist, the Prince
de Condé’s quinze, the King’s game of billiards, and the Prince de
Conti’s pharaon.[12] He said everything that came into his head; but
although he gave way to much exaggerated merriment, from time to time,
under cover of a joke, he would make many serious truths acceptable.
His great friends were the Polignacs,[13] whose intimate society
consisted of the Coignys, the Conflans, the Comte de Vaudreuil, and
the Chevalier de l’Isle. He always defended the Polignacs against the
numerous accusations which were brought against them.
He writes: “There is no one more virtuous and more disinterested than
all these Jules, but their company was sometimes monotonous, so great
was their fear of giving rise to prating and gossip; the Comtesse Diane
was the only one whose conversation was at all lively.”
The Prince was particularly intimate with the Chevalier de l’Isle,[14]
the least known member of the little circle. The Chevalier was an
excellent officer, an encyclopedist, and a poet, a correspondent of
Voltaire[15] and also of the Prince de Ligne, who held him in great
esteem. He was a master of song, and reigned supreme in the art of
letter-writing. He had never composed a faulty verse, or written a
letter that was not both witty and in excellent style; however, in
society he was wanting both in good taste and breeding, giving way
to ill-temper and familiarity. So as to make believe that he dined
with the Queen at the Polignacs on Sundays, he would arrive the first
after dinner, that those who came after him should be deceived by this
manœuvre. He wrote regularly to the Prince about all that went on at
Versailles during his absence. The following is an example of his
letters:--
_16th January 1780._
“What a turkey we have just eaten at the Comtesse Diane’s! My
goodness, what a fine bird! M. de Poix had sent it from the
poultry-yard. There were eight of us round it: the lady of the house,
Madame la Comtesse Jules, Madame d’Henin, and Madame de la Force; M.
le Comte d’Artois, M. de Vaudreuil, the Chevalier de Crussol, and
myself.
“While we were eating the turkey, but without reference to it, some
one mentioned you, my Prince. Stay, let me recall who it was? A
lady----no; a man--yes, certainly a man, for he said _Charlot_, and
our ladies are not given to such familiarities. It was the man who was
on Madame la Comtesse Jules’ left hand. Let me see; I was next to the
poet; here sat the Chevalier de Crussol, and there M. de Vaudreuil,
and then----Ah! now I’ve got it, it was M. le Comte d’Artois; yes, I
am sure of it now. He said: ‘By the bye, who can tell me if Charlot
has arrived at Brussels?’--‘I can, your Highness, for I have received
four lines in his own handwriting, and am myself going to write to
him; who has any message to send?’ All immediately answered in a
chorus: ‘I have, I have, I have.’ In the confusion I could distinguish
these words: ‘I embrace him, I love him; tell him to come, we expect
him.’ When the hubbub had subsided the soft voice of Madame la
Comtesse Jules commenced more audibly: ‘Tell him that if he had dated
his last letter more distinctly, I would not have failed to answer
it; but that, although assisted by several experts in the art of
deciphering, it was impossible for me even to suspect from what place
it had been written, and consequently to what place I should direct my
own.’
“Thereupon we conversed about you, and then about Admiral Keppel,
then of the turkey, then of the capture of our two frigates, then
of the Spanish Inquisition, then of a large gruyere cheese which
our ambassador in Switzerland has just sent his children, then of
the strange conduct of the Spaniards towards us, and at last of
Mademoiselle Théodore, who, upon my life, dances better than ever, and
who pleased us yesterday as much by her talent as Mademoiselle Cécile
by her youthful charms. To-morrow the Queen will receive for the
first time; till now she has only seen those who have the ‘_petites
entrées_’; she is rather thinner, but otherwise her health leaves
nothing to be desired. The King is still the good husband, the good
father, and the good man he has always been; it is impossible to
be near him without admiring him as the personification of honesty,
and without being sincerely attached to his person. I assure you we
are fortunate in possessing such a royal couple: may God preserve
them on the throne where His goodness has placed them!... We are all
going to-morrow to Paris to inaugurate the charming little house M.
le Duc de Coigny has bought, and in which we shall have----What do
you think we shall have?----Our first grand entertainment--a regular
house-warming. We shall have farces, proverbs, verses, songs, and
pleasures of all kinds; it will be a beautiful ceremony.
“_À propos_ of verses: you have not seen those I wrote the other day
for the Queen, threatening to play her the trick she most dreads--that
is, to name her at the opera ball. Here it is:--
“Dans ce temple ou l’incognito
Règne avec la folie,
Vous n’êtes grâce au domino
Ni reine in jolie.
Sous ce double déguisement
Riant d’être ignorée,
Je vous nomme et publiquement
Vous serez adorée.[16]
“I implore you, Prince, my very dear Prince, do not massacre my song
in honouring me by singing it yourself; leave that care to my cousin,
who will give it its full value; love her for me, and tell her I shall
go to Brussels, on my head if necessary, to see her; you must love me,
both of you.”[17]
The Queen was an object of devotion to the Prince de Ligne. “Who could
see the unfortunate Marie Antoinette without adoring her?” he writes
thirty years later.[18] “I only realised it the day she said to me:
‘My mother is displeased at your remaining so long at Versailles; go
and spend some days at your post; from thence write letters to Vienna,
in order to show where you are, then come back.’ Such kindness, such
delicacy on her part, and still more the idea of having to spend a
fortnight without seeing her, drew tears from my eyes; but the charming
heedlessness, which preserved her from all coquetry prevented her
noticing my emotion.
“As I do not believe in a passion which cannot be reciprocated, a
fortnight was sufficient to cure me of a sentiment I now admit for
the first time, and which, for fear of ridicule, I never should have
confessed to any one else.... Have I ever seen in her society anything
that did not bear the impress of grace, kindliness, and good taste?
She intuitively knew an intriguer miles off, and hated every kind
of deceit; that is why she preferred the society of the Polignacs
and their friends--that is to say, Valentine Esterhazi, Bésenval,
Vaudreuil, Ségur, and myself.”
If the Prince worshipped the Queen, on the other hand he had little
esteem for the King. He writes: “The King--in whom I hoped to find
some good qualities, whom it may be said I have protected, whose mind
I have endeavoured to elevate by interesting discourses, instead of
his hunting topics or idiotic conversation--cares for nothing but
tomfoolery. His practical jokes are always aimed at Conflans, Coigny,
or the Polignacs’ friends. The Queen has managed to cure him of this
habit. It was at bedtime that his Majesty liked to worry us. He
possessed, however, a certain tact in the midst of his rough jokes. One
day, when he was threatening us with his blue ribbon, which he tried
to throw at some one’s head, the Duc de Laval withdrew. The King said:
‘Do not fear, Monsieur; it has nothing to do with you.’... Coigny,
the eternal fault-finder, said to me one day: ‘Would you like to know
what these three brothers are? A fat locksmith, the wit of a country
public-house, and a street fop.’ The two last epithets applied to
Monsieur and the Comte d’Artois.”
When the Prince returned to Bel Œil he delighted his youthful
daughter-in-law with these tales; for although she liked Flanders
fairly well when not there alone with her mother-in-law, she could not
help regretting Paris, when her husband’s duties recalled him to the
army, and her fickle father-in-law went off on his incessant travels.
It will be remembered that the Dowager-Princess had absolutely refused
to consent to a residence in Paris during the winter months. She was
right, for although the officers generally returned to their respective
capitals during the bad season, the military profession did not allow
much leisure time, and Prince Charles, being in the Austrian service,
would scarcely have been able to spend his leave in Paris. The young
Princess would therefore have been left to the care of an aunt, who had
no authority over her, or to that of a father-in-law, more absorbed
in amusing himself than acting as mentor to his daughter-in-law. This
delicate and dangerous position had naturally alarmed the Princesse de
Ligne, but Hélène had not such foresight; the pleasure she anticipated
of appearing in the brilliant society of which she had only just caught
a glimpse outweighed any feelings of prudence, and she quite hoped to
obtain her husband’s consent in the matter.
The first step consisted of her presentation at Court. Hélène had
gained an ally in her aunt the Princess, who was quite ready to conduct
her pretty niece to Versailles; but the latter wished to make her
appearance there with all the honours of war--that is, with those of
the _tabouret_.[19] This could only be obtained by virtue of certain
rights. The rank of grandee of Spain was a sufficient title. The Prince
de Ligne possessed this rank, and Hélène persuaded her husband to ask
the Prince to make it over to him. Such a request was not a small
affair. The young Prince was rather embarrassed, the more so that this
request would entail another, that of a grant of money. Magnificent
costumes and jewels, etc., had absorbed the largest part of the young
couple’s income. However, incapable of refusing any wish of his wife’s,
Prince Charles took heart, and decided upon writing. He immediately
received from his father, who was then at Versailles, the most charming
reply:--
VERSAILLES, _10th September 1780_.
“Is it not, my dear Charles, a droll thing to be married? You will
manage to get on, for, after all, one is bound more or less according
to circumstances. It is only fools who do not know how to turn the
position to account: meanwhile you have a very pretty little wife,
whom without false shame you may love. Although from father to son
we have been called Lamoral, without knowing whether he is a saint,
I am neither moral, moralist, nor moraliser enough to preach, and I
make fun of those who do not believe in my morality, which consists
in trying to make all around me happy. I feel quite sure that this
is your case also; without having a whole array of principles, this
is one of the four or five I have adopted as a second education: my
first, as I told you, is, that to be a liar or a coward would bring
me with sorrow to my grave. Certainly, my dear fellow, you have well
understood this short lesson.
“And now, let us come to business. Take as much money as you require;
my men of business must have it or obtain it; that is one subject
done with.... The Queen said she will make my affair de Kœurs[20]
a success, and, when I told her that my _affaires de cœur_ (love
affairs) were successful, she said _I was a fool_. Kœurs settled,
that makes two affairs done with. Your uncle, the Bishop of Wilna,
who fancies that you or I may some day be King of Poland, wants us
to obtain the _indigénat_; we shall get it, that is another affair
terminated.
“Our aunt of the Tuileries wants your wife to have the _tabouret_; she
has a fancy for going to Versailles, and for that purpose wishes me
to cede to you the _grandezza_. I have already written to the King of
Spain and to the minister on the subject, and have spoken of it to the
ambassador. Fourth affair concluded, leaving me the prospect of taking
cold, by being obliged to get down at the gates of the Court, where
only the coaches of the grandees of Spain are allowed to enter, as in
the Luxembourg and elsewhere.
“Here are two sources of economy for me!--the King’s play and
_coucher_, which no longer cost me anything.
“What annoys me is to hear clever people say foolish things; to hear
war discussed by idlers, who have never seen anything but military
exercises, and those badly done; disinterestedness proclaimed by
women who manage to get pensions by dint of tormenting the ministers
and the Queen, who is a thousand times too kind; to hear sensibility
professed by those who have had at least twenty lovers. And then, the
intriguers! the obtrusive! and the wicked! How often this makes my
blood boil, but a quarter of an hour later I forget it all.
“Shall I tell you a foolish saying of mine, considered as such by all
the royal family? You know that at the town theatre I am under the
King’s box, amongst the public; you will remember the mirror in _La
fausse Magie_.[21] At the close of the play it was dreadfully cold,
and the King complained of it, as well as of the coldness of the
acting. I said: ‘It is because the _dénouement_ is _à la glace_.’[22]
The two brothers[23] hooted me out loud for this pun. This existence
at Versailles is delightful; it is like life in a country-house. I
embrace your wife and your mother for having had wit enough to make me
a Charles like yourself.
“_P.S._--By the bye, I had already planned in my head a grove for my
Charles, a fountain that will bear the name of Hélène, and a bower for
their children.
“I shall work at it as soon as I leave Versailles, to go and tell you,
_tutti quanti_, that I love you with all my heart.”
FOOTNOTES:
[9] This comedy was printed in the private press at Bel Œil in 1781.
The only copy known to be extant is in H.R.H. the Duc d’Aumale’s
library at Chantilly.
[10] This brave and clever prince was a most unfortunate general.
Beaten by the Prussians in 1742, while commanding the Austrian army in
Bohemia, he was again defeated in Alsace in 1745. The affability of
his manners, his artistic and literary tastes, his kindness of heart,
endeared him to all, and his paternal rule is still remembered in
Belgium. His generosity was boundless, and the considerable income he
received (six hundred thousand florins of Brabant) did not suffice to
cover his expenses. He ruined himself by his prodigality, but science
and art prospered under him, and schools of paintings and colleges were
established in every town. New roads were made; trade, then at a low
ebb, received a fresh impulse; and a transport service was organised
between the Flemish ports and those of Germany and France.
[11] A species of lacquer painting, at present revived in France.
[12] All different games of cards, in vogue at that time at the French
Court.
[13] The Duchesse de Polignac, Gabrielle-Yolande-Martine de Polastron,
an intimate friend of the Queen, was both amiable and beautiful.
Expressive blue eyes, a high forehead, a nose very slightly turned up,
a lovely mouth, with pretty little white teeth which were beautifully
symmetrical, formed a most agreeable physiognomy. Her features bore the
stamp of sweetness and modesty. At the age of seventeen she married the
Comte Jules de Polignac.
[14] The Chevalier de l’Isle was a brigadier in the King’s cavalry,
having been appointed on 25th July 1762. Very intimate with the
Choiseul family and Madame du Deffant, he is mentioned in the latter’s
correspondence.
[15] It was he who wrote a letter to the patriarch of Ferney about a
badly-executed commission commencing as follows: “You must, sir, be
very stupid,” etc. This beginning threw Voltaire into an ecstasy of
delight.
[16]
In this temple, where incognito
Reigns as well as folly,
You are, thanks to the domino,
Neither queen nor beauty.
Under this twofold disguise,
Laughingly unknown,
Should I name you, then at once
You will be publicly adored.
[17] In order to elucidate this paragraph, we must explain that the
Prince sang dreadfully out of tune, and that the pretended cousin was
the lovely Angélique d’Hannetaire, daughter of the director of the
theatre at Brussels; she sang beautifully, and was very intelligent;
the Prince was madly in love with her at that time.
[18] See _Fragments of unedited Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne_,
published in the _Revue Nouvelle_. Paris, 1840.
[19] To have the right of sitting down in the King or Queen’s presence.
[20] An estate of the Prince de Ligne in France, and about which he had
a lawsuit; the name of the estate is pronounced like _cœurs_ (hearts),
hence the Prince’s pun.
[21] _The false Magic_, a comic opera by Grétry.
[22] A pun on the word _glace_, which in French means either ice or a
looking-glass.
[23] Monsieur and the Comte d’Artois.
VI
The two Princes journey to Berlin--Portrait of Frederick the
Great--Journey to Saint Petersburg--Portrait of the Empress
Catherine--Return journey through Poland--The Bishop’s residence at
Werky--The Diet at Warsaw--The _Indigénat_--The return to Bel Œil.
The Prince had not spoken lightly when he said to his son that they
would go to Poland for the _indigénat_.[24] In the midst of all
the pleasures and amusements of Versailles he suddenly departed.
“Family interests,” he says, “obliged me to undertake a long journey.
My son Charles has married a pretty little Pole, but her family
has given us paper in lieu of hard cash. Their claims were on the
Russian Court; it was necessary to go and present them. In June 1780
I started for Vienna, Prague, Dresden, Berlin, Saint Petersburg,
Warsaw, Cracow,--where I had much to do,--Mogylani,[25] Léopol, and
Brunn,--where I was in love. I must not forget to add that I started
from Paris and the Rue de Bourbon, from the house of the Duchesse de
Polignac, who had just been confined,[26] and where I had dined with
the Queen. I promised to return at the same hour in six months’ time,
and ordered my livery coach and courier in consequence.”
The sum of money the Prince de Ligne claimed in the name of his
daughter-in-law was considerable. It amounted to four hundred thousand
roubles, which were well worth the trouble of recovering. However, we
incline to the belief that these family affairs were merely a cloak
for political designs; the journey was probably intended to carry
on the preliminaries of a negotiation begun by Joseph II. and the
Empress Catherine in their interview at Mohileff. The Prince started
from Vienna, whither he had gone to receive his final instructions.
His companions on the journey were his son Charles, and his friend the
Chevalier de l’Isle.
“I made de l’Isle a colonel,” he says, “by simply saying when in
Austria, Prussia, Poland, and Russia that he was one, and buying him a
pair of epaulets. I was also obliged to knight him,” he adds, “in order
to distinguish him in foreign parts from the Abbé of the same name.”[27]
The Princes started on their journey a year after the war of the
Bavarian succession had ended. “This war entailed on the King of
Prussia a large expenditure of men, horses, and money; it procured him
an appearance of honesty and disinterestedness, and some political
amenities, but it brought him no military honour, and caused him to
entertain very bitter feelings towards us. Without any apparent reason
the King forbade Austrian officers to enter his dominions without a
special permit signed by him. The Austrian Court retaliated by making
the same rule with regard to Prussian officers. This gave rise to
mutual discomfort without reason or profit. Being of a confiding
nature, I thought I could do without a permit, but the desire to have
a letter from the great Frederick, rather than the fear of being badly
received, induced me to write to him.”
Instead of one letter the Prince de Ligne received three, all charming.
For fear of missing him the King had written from Potsdam to Vienna,
Dresden, and Berlin. The travellers arrived at Potsdam on the 28th of
June.
“Having to wait until twelve o’clock, at which hour I was to be
presented to the King, together with my son Charles and M. de l’Isle,
I went to the parade ground, and was soon surrounded and escorted by
Austrian deserters, especially those from my own regiment, who tried to
fawn upon me and ask my forgiveness for having left me. The hour for
the presentation arrived, and the King received me in the most charming
fashion. The military stiffness of headquarters was exchanged for a
tender and benevolent welcome. He said he did not know I had so old a
son.
“‘He has even been married a year, Sire.’
“‘May I ask to whom?’
“‘To a Pole--a Massalski.’
“‘What, a Massalski? Do you know what her grandmother did?’
“‘No, Sire,’ replied Charles.
“‘She fired off the cannon at the siege of Dantzic,--she fired, and
made them fire, and defended the place, when her party, who had lost
their heads, only thought of yielding.’
“‘Women are unaccountable creatures,’ said I, ‘strong and weak by
turns, cautious and dissimulating, they are capable of anything.’
“‘No doubt,’ said M. de l’Isle, annoyed at not having been spoken to,
and he added, with a familiarity which met with no success, ‘See, for
instance----’
“The King interrupted him at the end of half a second. In order to
satisfy de l’Isle I told the King that M. de Voltaire had died in his
arms; so that the King asked him a few questions. He answered rather
too lengthily, and went away. Charles and I remained for dinner.
“Every day the King had long conversations with me, often of five hours
at a time, and completely fascinated me: fine arts, war, medicine,
literature and religion, philosophy, moral philosophy, history and
legislation, were all reviewed in turn. The great eras of Augustus and
Louis XIV.; the refined society of the Romans, the Greeks, and the
Franks; the chivalry of Francis the First; the frankness and valour
of Henry the Fourth; the revival of learning; anecdotes of clever men
of former days, and their failings; Voltaire’s errors, Maupertuis’s
irritability, and I know not what else. In fact, anything and
everything. The most varied and wittiest things were said by the King
in a soft, low, and agreeable voice, with an inexpressibly graceful
movement of the lips. The charm of his manner was, I think, the reason
why one did not notice that, like Homer’s heroes, he was rather a
babbler, though certainly a sublime one. His eyes, always too hard in
his portraits, although strained with work and the fatigues of war,
softened in their expression when listening to or relating some noble
deed or trait of sensibility....
“One morning, as I arrived at the palace, the King came forward and
said: ‘I fear I must be the bearer of bad news; I have just heard that
Prince Charles of Lorraine is dying.’ He looked to see what effect
the news would have on me, and seeing the tears fall from my eyes, he
gradually and gently changed the conversation. The next day, the moment
he saw me, the King came up, and said with an air of the deepest
concern: ‘Since you must hear of the death of a man who loved you and
honoured mankind, it is better that it should be through some one who
feels it as sincerely as I do; poor Prince Charles is no more!’ He was
deeply affected as he said these words.”
After a conversation during which the King had spoken unceasingly
for nearly an hour, the Prince, finding the part of listener rather
monotonous, seized upon an allusion to Virgil, and said:--
“‘What a grand poet, Sire, but what a bad gardener!’
“‘How true! Did I not try to plant, sow, dig, and hoe, with the
Georgics as my guide? “But, Sire,” the gardener used to say, not
knowing who I was: “You are a fool, and your book also; it is not so
that one sets to work.” Good heavens, what a climate! would you believe
it, God and the sun refuse me everything! Look at my orange, olive,
and lemon trees, they are all dying of hunger.’
“‘Laurels, I see, are the only trees that will grow for your Majesty.’
“The King gave me a delighted look, and to cap my insipid remark with a
bit of nonsense, I quickly added: ‘And then, Sire, there are too many
grenadiers[28] in this country, they swallow up everything.’ The King
laughed, for it is only nonsense that makes one laugh.”
The Prince knew that the King could not bear M. de Ried, and that it
was because the latter had mentioned the taking of Berlin by Marshal
Haddik that the King had conceived such a dislike for him; therefore,
when Frederick asked him if he found Berlin much altered, he took care
not to remind him that he was one of those who took possession of it in
1760. “He was pleased with my reticence, for he was an old wizard, who
guessed everything, and whose tact was the finest that ever existed.”
The Prince asked him a bold question when speaking about France.
“There is everything, Sire, in that country, and it really deserves to
be happy; it is reported that your Majesty had said that if one wished
to have a happy dream, one ought----”
“Yes,” interrupted the King, “that is true--one ought to be King of
France.”
After spending a delightful fortnight at Potsdam, the Princes took
leave of the King of Prussia with regret, and continued their journey,
arriving at Saint Petersburg in the month of August.
The Empress received the Prince de Ligne with the greatest distinction;
she was already acquainted with him through Voltaire’s letters and the
accounts the Emperor Joseph had given her at Mohileff. Catherine found
him worthy of all the praise she had heard of him, and writes:--
“We have also the Prince de Ligne, who is one of the most amusing and
easy beings to get on with I have ever seen. Though an original and a
deep thinker, he yet has all the gaiety of a child. His company would
suit me very well.”
On his part the Prince was charmed with Catherine the Great, as he
called her, and, thanks to his account, we have a living portrait of
the Czarina.
“It was easy to see that she had been handsome rather than pretty; the
majesty of her brow was softened by a pleasant look and smile, but
it showed all the force of her character, and revealed her genius,
justice, judgment, courage, equanimity, gentleness, calmness, and
firmness.
“Her chin, though rather pointed, did not exactly project; nor was it
a receding chin, but one nobly proportioned. The oval of her face was
not good, and yet it was pleasing, for the expression of her mouth was
full of frankness and mirth. She must have had a fresh complexion and
a fine bust, which, however, she got at the cost of her figure; she
had been almost too slight, but one becomes very stout in Russia. She
was clean, and if her hair had not been drawn so far back, but allowed
to surround her face, she would have been better looking. One did not
notice she was small; when she told me, in a slow manner, that she had
been very vivacious, it seemed impossible to realise it. On entering a
drawing-room she always made the same three bows, like a man, in the
Russian style; one to the right, one to the left, and the other in the
middle. Everything about her was measured and methodical.”
The Prince had already become very intimate with Catherine at the end
of a few days.
“‘What did you suppose I would be like?’ she asked me.
“‘I fancied your Majesty tall, stiff as a poker, with eyes like stars,
and a large hoop. I thought also I should only have to admire, and
constant admiration is very fatiguing.’
“‘Is it not true that you did not expect to find me so stupid?’
“‘In truth, I thought it would be necessary to have all one’s wits
about one, that your Majesty allowed yourself all license, and was a
perfect firework of wit; but I infinitely prefer your careless style
of conversation, which becomes sublime when treating of noble passages
of history, or examples of sensibility or greatness.’ And the Empress
heartily laughed at this clever mingling of frankness and flattery.
“It was this contrast of simplicity in what she said with the great
deeds she performed that made her interesting. A trifle amused her; she
was pleased at the smallest joke, and cleverly turned it to account.
One day I told her that to silence the reproaches of a lady who was
displeased with my scarcity of talk, and looking bored in her house, I
replied that I had just heard of the death of an aunt who had brought
me up. When the Empress was bored on the grand reception days, she
would say to me: ‘My uncle is about to die.’ Then I would hear it
murmured: ‘We are going to have a mourning.’ And all the Court would
search up the uncle in the almanac, and of course not find him.”
However great the fascination Catherine exercised over the Prince, she
did not make him forget Marie-Thérèse, and towards the end of his stay
he wrote: “The Empress Marie-Thérèse had certainly much greater charm
and fascination. Our Empress carried one away: the impression made by
the Russian Empress was much weaker at first, but gradually increased.
However, they resembled each other in this, that if the universe had
crumbled away they would have been found _impavidas ferient ruinæ_. No
power on earth would have made them yield; their great souls were proof
against adversity; enthusiasm preceded the one and followed the other.”
It was, however, necessary for the Prince to tear himself away from
the delights of this charming abode. But before their departure the
Empress, laughing, said to the Prince-father: “As you told me that you
would either sell, gamble, or lose any diamonds I should give you, here
are only a hundred roubles’ worth round my portrait on this ring!”[29]
To this present Catherine added jewels for the Princesse de Ligne and
her daughters; Prince Charles received a rich casket for Hélène, and
the Princes left for Poland, having forgotten only one thing, viz. the
claim of four hundred thousand roubles, for which they had undertaken
their journey. “For,” says the Prince gaily, “it seemed to me a want
of delicacy to take advantage of the favour with which I was received
to obtain favours.”
The Bishop of Wilna received the Prince at his residence of Werky,
a short distance from Warsaw. “Werky,” writes the Prince, “was a
fortunate child of nature,--a large river, three smaller ones, and a
chain of mountains, separated two valleys. Four or five waterfalls,
three islands, manufactories, castles, a windmill, a port, a ruin,
two convents of handsome appearance, natural undulations, temples to
Vulcan, to Bacchus, and one to Unity, which is to be erected upon
piles, and a kind of bridge at the meeting of three pretty rivulets,
an obelisk, a fisherman’s and a workman’s hut, bridges, some ornate,
others rustic, complete the attractions of this magnificent estate. I
advise and direct everything.”
The Dietine (sub-Diet) of Wilna had assembled to elect deputies for the
Diet of Warsaw. The Bishop gathered round his table eighty-four Polish
gentlemen, nearly all wearing the national costume, and having their
heads shaved after the Polish fashion. Before dinner each of them came
up to salute the Bishop by respectfully kissing the hem of his robe.
At the end of the repast healths were drunk; the Bishop proclaimed the
name of the person whose health was proposed; then he filled an antique
cup, beautifully chased, emptied it and turned it over, showing that
he had drained it to the bottom. He then passed it to his right-hand
neighbour, and in this way it went round the table. These toasts were
always celebrated with champagne or Tokay. After an interesting sojourn
at Werky and Wilna, the Princes, accompanied by the Bishop, started
for Warsaw. We have seen that in the negotiations for the marriage
of the Duc d’Elbœuf with Hélène the Prince-Bishop and the Marquis de
Mirabeau had dreamt of the Polish throne for the young Princess’s
future husband. This idea had taken possession of the Bishop’s brain;
and the accounts that were given to him of Saint Petersburg, and the
peculiarly cordial reception that the Princes had received, confirmed
him in it. Persuaded that the Prince was far advanced in the Empress’s
good graces, and convinced that the King Stanislaus-Augustus was no
longer in favour, the Bishop, ever ready to throw himself into a new
adventure, took advantage of the opening of the Diet to propose the
Marshal as candidate for the _indigénat_.
“You will one day be King of Poland,” said the enthusiastic Bishop;
“what a change will come over European affairs! what good luck for the
Lignes and Massalski!” The Marshal laughed, but, although he ridiculed
these sayings, he allowed matters to proceed. “I had a fancy,” he says,
“to please the nation assembled for the Diet, and accordingly presented
myself.”
Twenty-five candidates came forward to obtain the _indigénat_;
twenty-four of them were set aside, the Prince alone was retained; but
it required a unanimous vote, and three opponents came forward. “They
were nearly cut down, and the violence of one of the nuncios,[30] who
laid his hand on his sword, uttering very threatening words, nearly
broke up the Diet, and my too zealous partisan had a narrow escape of
losing his head.
“I sought my opponents; I succeeded in overcoming their prejudices, and
that so thoroughly that they said, with a grace and eloquence worthy
of their country, that, in favour of an acquisition they considered
so honourable, they would, each in turn, solicit the vote of one of
their friends. Against all custom, I rushed into the nuncios’ hall, and
embraced the mustachios of these three orators. It electrified me, for
I began an oration myself--in Latin too! then I took them by the hand,
and my advances resulted in a general _sgoda_,[31] which rang three
times through the hall, nearly bringing it down, so great were the
universal acclamations.”
After having obtained the good graces of the Empress Catherine, laid
out the Bishop of Wilna’s gardens, gained the _indigénat_, and become
almost as popular at Warsaw as in Brussels, the Prince de Ligne,
faithful to his word, arrived at Versailles to the very day, six months
after having left it.
FOOTNOTES:
[24] The _indigénat_, though differing from naturalisation, conferred
on those who obtained it all the privileges belonging to those
indigenous to the soil.
[25] An estate belonging to the Princesse Charles.
[26] The Duchess had given birth to the Comte Armand-Jules de Polignac
on 14th May 1780.
[27] The Abbé Delille, born at Aigueperse on 22d June 1728, died in
Paris on 1st May 1813. He was a member of the French Academy, and as a
poet enjoyed European celebrity. Though spelt differently the name was
pronounced in the same way.
[28] _Grenadiers_ in French signifying both the soldier and the
pomegranate tree.
[29] It is said that Catherine’s _friendship_ for the Prince de Ligne
became a warmer sentiment, and we are disposed to believe it when we
read the sour letters that Grimm wrote to the Empress about the Prince,
of whom he was jealous. It will be seen later on that he excited
Potemkin’s jealousy as well. Be this as it may, the Prince was very
discreet on the subject, as also on that of the political conversations
he had with the Empress, for he relates nothing about them, not even
in reference to Poland. We can hardly believe, however, that he did
not touch upon the subject; the Princesse Charles was Polish, and
Catherine might well suppose that her father-in-law and husband took
some interest in that unhappy country.
[30] The Polish deputies were called nuncios.
[31] The _sgoda_ was the cry which announced the unanimity of the vote.
VII
Life at Bel Œil--The Archduchess Christine, Governor of the
Netherlands--The Comte d’Artois at Bel Œil--_Le Mariage de
Figaro_--The Comtesse de Sabran and the Chevalier de Boufflers.
Hélène awaited her husband’s return with the greatest impatience, for
during his absence and that of his father her life had not been an easy
one.
The Dowager-Princess generally took advantage of her husband’s absence
to reduce the expenses of her household, and reestablish, as much as
possible, a condition of things too often upset by the Prince, who,
like the amiable spendthrift that he was, gaily threw millions out of
the window. Hélène would gladly have taken her share in superintending
the household; for she had learnt at the Convent how to keep house,
and was naturally proud of her acquirements. She gracefully proffered
her services to her mother-in-law, anxious to display her domestic
qualities, but the Princesse de Ligne was not disposed to share her
authority with any one, and coldly refused her daughter-in-law’s
offer. Hélène, rebuffed and humiliated, did not complain, but it left
a feeling of rancour in her mind, and from that moment the relations
between mother and daughter-in-law became more strained. At last the
Prince’s six months’ journey drew to a close, and it was with twofold
joy that Hélène hailed her husband’s return, and the end of the harsh
tutelage under which she had been living.
The Princes found their family at Brussels, and in the spring went
to Bel Œil, where they spent the summer together, with the exception
of Prince Louis, who was detained by his service in Paris, and could
seldom be with them. The life at Bel Œil was extremely gay and
animated; the stream of visitors was incessant, and poured in from
all sides--Brussels, Paris, and even Vienna. The officers of the de
Ligne regiment came to stay in turns. Not only did the Prince keep
open house--that is to say, that people could come and spend the day
there without any previous warning, but there was also a certain number
of apartments kept in readiness for any unexpected guests who might
come for a longer visit. Among the intimates at Bel Œil were the most
charming women of the Court of Brussels.
Although the de Lignes provided ample entertainment and amusement
for their guests, a due part of the day was devoted to more serious
occupations. The mornings were given up to study. Music, literature,
drawing, etc., were cultivated in turn. “Christine pastes and
unpastes, Hélène sings and is enchanting,” wrote the Prince. As for
him, he was no sooner up than, book in hand, he went to his island
of Flora, or worked in his library, or else inspected the gardens.
He already possessed a private printing-press in his house at
Brussels; he installed another at Bel Œil, which was a source of great
amusement.[32] Prince Charles in particular busied himself with it, but
he confined himself to publishing the works of others; his father, the
Chevalier de l’Isle, and the Abbé Payez, provided ample material for
the small presses of Bel Œil.
Prince Charles, who was an enthusiastic admirer of pictures, had
found time, in spite of his studies and military duties, to make a
magnificent collection of original drawings, both of ancient and modern
masters.[33] He was a thorough connoisseur, and drew well himself,
he even undertook to engrave some of the drawings in his collection,
and sent for the celebrated Bartsch to give him lessons at Bel Œil.
Hélène interested herself in her husband’s occupations, and, while he
was engraving, put the drawings in order, studied under his guidance
the different styles of each master, and became quite an enlightened
amateur. These intellectual occupations took up the first half of
the day, after which the family and numerous visitors assembled for
dinner. After an hour’s rest they all went into the gardens, where they
wandered about, or indulged in reverie, or gathered together according
to taste. There were a hundred different pastimes, and a hundred
different ways of enjoying one’s self; the Prince had anticipated every
taste and every wish. Sometimes they went long excursions on horseback
or in carriages to the beautiful forest of Baudour, adjoining the
woods of Bel Œil, or they sailed on the large lake which was connected
with the canals, rivers, and smaller lakes of the park. The boats were
decked out with streamers, and manned by small boatmen dressed in the
Prince’s livery. “During the lovely summer evenings,” he writes, “our
excursions on the water, with music and a bright moonlight, were most
agreeable to the ladies.”
The Prince never forgot them in his rustic arrangements; well
beaten-paths, so that they might not wet their pretty feet, bowers
of roses, jasmine, orange trees, and honeysuckle, led to the ladies’
baths. They found shaded benches and rustic cabins, and also “their
embroidery frames, their knitting, their netting, and, above all, their
black writing-books. Sand or something else was often wanting, but they
contained secrets unknown both to lovers and husbands, and, used as
desks by their owners, served to write many a pretty little lie.”
At this period Brussels presented the most brilliant and animated
aspect. Prince Charles of Lorraine had been succeeded by the
Archduchess Marie-Christine, formerly Regent of Hungary, where she had
enjoyed the privileges of a queen. She held her court on a grand scale,
and did the honours of it with grace and affability. The Archduchess
was considered the handsomest of Marie-Thérèse’s four daughters. She
danced so gracefully and so lightly that, directly she began, every one
stopped to admire. Although pretending to be annoyed, she was, on the
contrary, far from displeased at the admiration she provoked. She had
married the Archduke Albert of Saxe-Teschen,[34] who was entirely under
his wife’s influence, and, unlike Prince Charles of Lorraine, never
gained the hearts of the Flemish. Nevertheless, the Archduke’s gentle
and easy character made him beloved by all who approached him. He was
an intelligent connoisseur in pictures, and formed two magnificent
collections of paintings and drawings.
The Archduchess and her husband took pleasure in encouraging art and
literature, and Brussels soon became a lively literary centre. All
that appeared in France--novels, poetry, travels, etc.--was eagerly
read. Several reviews were started. The Prince de Ligne welcomed young
Belgian authors, and helped them in every way to the best of his
ability. Happy to avail themselves of the lordly hospitality he so
graciously offered, they constantly came to submit to him their essays.
It is needless to say that they extolled the beauties of Bel Œil and
Baudour in verses which were reproduced in the gazettes of the day.
If Belgium had not become the scene of political events, it is probable
that the Prince would have founded a school of literature and good
taste, for he occasionally evinced in his writings talent of the
highest order. Ideas flowed in abundance from his fertile pen, and he
seemed merely to jot them down on the paper at haphazard. His style,
which is capricious, incorrect, and even obscure, is always lively and
descriptive; each word seems to fall naturally into its place under his
pen; wit abounds, unexpected, satirical, and sometimes most daring. He
has the greatest contempt for grammar; but this very negligence, this
lordly indifference, gives to his writings a most original style.
Moreover, he possessed all the requisites of an excellent critic, but
it must be acknowledged that he was blindly indulgent towards his own
poetry. Unfortunately gifted with deplorable facility, he never missed
an opportunity of rhyming. One evening, when they had all gone for a
long walk in the woods, they wandered so far into the forest that they
completely lost their way, and only found it, thanks to a star Hélène
had noticed. On the following day her father-in-law brought her a
ballad, set to a tune then in vogue, and perhaps among all those he
has written, it may be considered as one of the best:--
À HÉLÈNE.
_Air: Sous la Verdure._
Un sombre voile
Nous dérobait notre chemin;
Nous errions à la belle étoile,
Mais nous arrivons à la fin
Grâce à l’étoile.
Est-ce l’étoile
Qui jadis guida vers un Dieu?
Ou de Vénus est-ce l’étoile?
Je penche beaucoup en ce lieu
Pour cette étoile.
Auprès d’Hélène
Conduit l’étoile du berger;
Trop heureux celui qu’elle amène
Tout juste à l’heure du berger
Auprès d’Hélène.[35]
And so the days passed quickly and pleasantly, the only drawback in
this happy scene being the state of Hélène’s health, which required
an amount of care her youth and love of pleasure made it difficult for
her to take. Two accidents had successively destroyed a hope dearly
cherished by her husband, and even more by her father-in-law, who was
anxious that his beloved Charles should have a son. The waters of
Spa, then very much the fashion, were recommended. Hélène went there
in the month of May 1782, accompanied by the Chevalier de l’Isle, and
her convent friend, Mademoiselle de Conflans, who was now Marquise de
Coigny,[36] and on intimate terms with the de Lignes. Hélène wrote to
appoint a meeting-place. The Chevalier de l’Isle, who had a ready pen
and familiar style, answered as follows: “Madame de Coigny embraces
Mouchette,[37] and exhorts her to wait for her to go to Spa till the
fifteenth of next month.” Hélène waited for her, and they started
together with the Chevalier; he only remained a short time, and on his
return wrote to the Prince de Ligne: “I did not write to you from Spa,
my dear Prince, because I hoped to see you there, and then because
I intended stopping at Brussels, at Bel Œil even; I had begged the
Princesse Charles, who talks much better than I can write, to speak to
you of me in her spare moments. She has none? So much the better for
both her and you, and so much the worse for me. But I had my turn at
Spa; twenty times I was on the point of writing, if only to tell you
how charming your daughter-in-law was, and then I reflected that you
were not the man to ignore it, and that when one has nothing fresh to
say, one had better hold one’s tongue.”
Shortly after the Chevalier’s departure the Prince rejoined his
daughter-in-law at Spa.
A watering-place at that time was very much like what it is in our
days, but the Prince describes it in the most spirited manner: “I
arrive in a large hall, where I find the maimed showing off their arms
and their legs; ridiculous names, titles, and faces; clerical and
worldly animals jumping and running races; hypochondriac _milords_
wandering sadly about; females from Paris entering with roars of
laughter, to make one believe they are amiable and at their ease, and
hoping thereby to become so; young men of all countries, counterfeiting
the English, speaking with their teeth closed, and dressed like grooms,
their hair cut short, black, and greasy, with a pair of Jewish
whiskers surrounding dirty ears.
“French bishops with their nieces; an accoucheur, decorated with the
order of Saint Michael; a dentist with that of the Spur; dancing and
singing masters in the uniform of Russian majors; Italians in that of
Polish colonels, leading about young bears of that country; Dutchmen
scanning the papers for the rate of exchange; thirty so-called Knights
of Malta; ribbons of all colours, to the right and the left, at the
buttonhole on both sides, orders of all kinds, shapes, and sizes.
“Old duchesses returning from their walks armed with tall canes _à
la Vendôme_, and three coatings of white and rouge; marchionesses,
cheating doubly at cards; horrible and suspicious faces, surrounded by
piles of ducats, and swallowing up all those that were timidly put on
the large green cloth; two or three electors in hunting-dress, striped
with gold, armed with hunting-knives; a few princes incognito, who
would not produce a greater sensation under their own names; some
old generals and officers retired on account of wounds they never
received; a few Russian princesses with their doctors, and Palatines
and Castilian ladies with their young chaplains.
“Americans and burgomasters of the neighbourhood; convicts escaped
from all the different prisons in Europe; quacks of every description;
adventurers of all kinds; abbés of all countries. Twenty sick people
wildly dancing for their health; forty lovers, or pretended lovers,
sweating and agitating themselves, and sixty feminine waltzers of more
or less beauty and innocence, cleverness and coquetry, modesty and
voluptuousness. All this combined is called a dancing breakfast.”
After leaving the establishment of the mineral waters, the Prince
takes us to La Sauvetière, an elegant meeting-place for bathers: “The
noise, the buzzing sound of conversation, the uproar of the music,
the intoxicating rhythm of the waltz, the passing and repassing of the
idlers, the oaths and sobs of the gamblers, both men and women, the
weariness of this magic-lantern made me leave the hall. I sit down, and
I see some water drinkers religiously counting their glasses and their
steps, and congratulating themselves, perhaps rather sadly, on the
improvement of their digestion. Some ladies join their group.
“‘Do you digest the waters, Madame?’
“‘Yes, sir, since yesterday.’
“‘Does your Excellency begin to digest?’ she says to the minister of an
ecclesiastical court.
“‘I have the honour to inform your Excellency,’ he answers, ‘that I
perspire from eight o’clock in the evening till ten, and that I sweat
completely from ten till midnight. If I had not so much business to
transact for his Grace, I should be entirely cured by the treatment.’”
Hélène returned to Spa in 1783, and met there Madame de Sabran, born a
d’Andlau,[38] who became later the Marquise de Boufflers. She was one
of the most charming women of her time, and pleased every one who saw
her by her appearance, her elegance, and the kindliness of her nature.
She was accompanied by her little son, Elzéar de Sabran, who little
thought of the part he was destined to play in politics later on; for
the present, he contented himself with learning the part of Chérubin in
the _Mariage de Figaro_, the Princesse Charles studying Suzanne, and
Madame de Sabran the part of the Countess, for after the return from
Spa the play was to be acted at Bel Œil.
Just at this time they received news of the Comte d’Artois’ arrival in
Flanders,[39] and the Princes de Ligne started off at once to receive
and accompany him on his progress through Rocroi and Spa, bringing him
back with them to Bel Œil.
The Princesse Hélène returned to Bel Œil before the Princes, in order
to prepare for the Comte d’Artois’ reception; but he had barely arrived
when he fell seriously ill. The Prince had prepared festivities which
cost him over fifty thousand francs; he never even spoke of them to
the Count, who was not in a condition to enjoy them. Only one thing
took place, a fairy-like illumination of the park, which the Prince,
however, did not see, for he never left the Comte d’Artois’ side, and
started with him for Versailles.
After the departure of the Comte d’Artois, the Chevalier de Boufflers
and Madame de Sabran came to Bel Œil. Hearing that the Chevalier was
garrisoned at Valenciennes, the Prince wrote and proposed his joining
him at Tournai, and from there returning with him to Bel Œil. The
Chevalier replied: “I am very much tempted, my dear Charlot, by all
you suggest; but on closely examining your marching orders, I believe
that my regiment is the very thing I should miss. Tell me when you go
to Tournai; I intend going there, and defying you at the head of your
army, and if I find it on two _Lignes_ (lines), I shall try to break
through them.
“Dear Prince, I love you as if I saw you every day of my life. After
yourself there is nothing that gives so much pleasure as the impression
that you leave. Send me your marching orders, so that we may meet
somewhere, and that, if possible, we may part nowhere.”[40]
The Chevalier arrived at Bel Œil in time to take part in the
representation of the _Mariage de Figaro_, which was given with great
success in the pretty theatre at Bel Œil. Hélène took the part of
Suzanne; Madame de Sabran that of the Countess; Elzéar, Chérubin, and
Boufflers, Figaro; as for the Prince-father, he had to content himself
with the modest part of Doublemain, the notary’s clerk; we must confess
that, though he gave others[41] good advice, he acted very badly
himself. He was generally given the part of the notary who draws up the
marriage-contract, or that of the lackey who brings in a letter, and
would invariably come in at the wrong moment; but on the other hand,
once on the stage he would not leave it, but say in a supplicating
whisper to the other actors: “I am not in your way, am I?”
Hélène acted with an archness and vivacity which recalled the merry
schoolgirl of the Abbaye-aux-Bois, tempered by a little experience; the
little Elzéar was charming as Chérubin, but the Chevalier carried off
the palm by the zest and spirit with which he threw himself into his
part. It was a curious sight, and a sign of the times, to hear Figaro’s
soliloquy recited by a nobleman, and applauded by the aristocratic
audience of Bel Œil.
Prince Charles willingly lent himself to his wife’s amusements,
though he took no active part in them; but his serious mind required
occupations of a different order. He took a keen interest in all
scientific discoveries, and at that moment was much taken up with the
new process of aerostation invented by Charles Pilatre de Rozier and
Montgolfier. He witnessed the first experiments made in Paris, and
among others the ascension of a fire balloon, in the gardens of La
Muette, on the 21st of November 1783, made by Pilatre de Rozier and
D’Arlandes. The aeronauts were in the greatest danger, their balloon
having caught fire; they managed to extinguish it, and made their
descent at Gentilly in safety. At that time a balloon ascension was
looked upon as a most daring undertaking, and no one cared to accompany
the aeronauts. But Prince Charles, whose courage and coolness were
proof against everything, determined to take part in the third ascent,
which took place at Lyons on the 19th of January 1784. The seven
passengers were: the elder Montgolfier, Pilatre de Rozier, Fontaine,
Prince Charles, and three other persons who at the last moment wished
to ascend. Although the balloon was of enormous size, the number of
passengers was too great; De Rozier had foreseen this, and did not
wish the two last persons to enter the car. Montgolfier persuaded him,
however, to let things be; but they were hardly off, and had only run
about five hundred fathoms, when the balloon began imperceptibly to
tear, and they were obliged to make a hasty and perilous descent at
a distance of about a league from the town. On their return to Lyons
they were received with acclamations by the whole population. In April
1784 Prince Charles sent off from the public square in front of the
hôtel des États, at Mons, a magnificent balloon, constructed at his own
expense. He had invited the Duke and Duchess of Aremberg and a great
many distinguished personages of the Courts of Brussels and Versailles,
who, after the ascent of the balloon, all returned to Bel Œil.[42]
FOOTNOTES:
[32] The volumes printed at Bel Œil are extremely rare and much in
demand. M. Adolphe Gaiffe is in possession of one of the two known
copies of the Chevalier de l’Isle’s poems. From a memorandum left by
the Princess, we believe that part of her childhood’s _Memoirs_ was
printed by her husband at Bel Œil.
[33] A catalogue of them was made by Adam Bartsch in 1794; it contained
six thousand numbers.
[34] Son of Augustus III., King of Poland; and Field-Marshal in the
Austrian army. He was born on 11th July 1738, and married, on 8th April
1766, Marie-Christine-Josepha-Jeanne-Antoinette, sister of the Emperor
Joseph, born on 13th May 1742. She died in 1798, and the Archduke
Albert in 1822.
[35]
TO HÉLÈNE.